Held prisoner in an SS Castle!

She was a prisoner in an SS castle!

But, brave lass, she didn’t tell the evil, gloating von Mortimer anything. Course, it’s easier when SS stands for Sinful Sunday.

Note

The text is kinda schlocky, I know. Though the model is anything but schlocky. It’s taken in the castle, of course. The light is just beautiful, as always. As is she.  

Click on the lips to see other Sinful Sunday entries!

 

Cunt as “a nasty word for a nasty thing”: a thought

The Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Captain Francis Grose.

In 1785 Captain Francis Grose published the first edition of his “Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue”. The book’s a useful collection of old, outdated slang. Gross claims he got most of the words by hanging out with soldiers.

The Dictionary is best remembered these days for Grose’s listing of “Cunt” and his definition: “a nasty word for a nasty thing”. 

That looks horrifically misogynist, and it’s always quoted as an example of Grose’s, or more generally of male, misogyny.

 

I’ve started to wonder, though. The first issue, for me, is that the Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue doesn’t really have anything else that comes close to the level of fear and hate of women, or at least their genitals, that definition seems to demonstrate. And it gives more space to thieves’ cant (language used by criminals) than to sexual words, So could Grose have been saying something else?

Nasty as she wants it to be.
(Drawing: Betty Dodson)

We know the word “nasty” has a strand of sexual meanings. It’s everywhere in rap. “Do the nasty”, meaning, “have sexual intercourse”, anyone? But “nasty” has sexual meanings in blues, too. Which takes it back to the 20th century, and maybe the 19th, in US black culture.

But it’s older than that. The sexual use of “nasty” may have re-entered non-black English from its preservation among black culture. It’s not uncommon for words to survive in one cultural group while they disappear elsewhere.

So we go back in time looking for early uses, and we don’t find much, because sexual words seldom made it into print, before the 19th century.

But it turns out that “nasty” meant “lewd” from the 17th century.

Francis Grose: Geddit? Just kidding, folks!

“Lewd” means something like “overtly sexy”, with a connotation of “slightly more overtly sexual than the speaker is comfortable with.” But the sexual meaning is clear. “Lewd” is always a compliment, in my book. 

So, remembering that this meaning of “nasty” was in use from the 1600’s, and that Grose’s Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue was published in 1785, it’s possible to see his definition in another way. 

Was Grose making a sort of joke? “Cunt:  a sexy name for a sexy thing”?

If so, he was Winding Up The Straights. And We Fell For It.  

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s virginity (last hours 9)

Maddie lay beside me on our mattress in the storeroom. Her head in my shoulder, staring at the ceiling, she told me the story of the end of her virginity.

She’d just told me that after being spanked by her headmaster, she’d sucked him off. Once he had his cock back in his pants, he’d said “Good. Now, stand up, Maddie.” 

I’ll let Maddie tell it, from here. 

Maddie’s story

I said, “Yes, sir.” I had to put my hand on the floor to steady myself. But I stood in front of him, my eyes at his chest. He was so close to me, and I wanted to hold him. But I waited for orders. He smiled at me. 

“You’re such a very good girl. You know you have to come back here after school.” 

It was a statement, but I said, “Yes, sir.” 

“And why do you have to come back?” 

“I was late, sir. And you’re going to punish me.” 

“How am I going to punish you, Maddie?” 

“You’re going to cane me, sir. Cane my bare bottom. Like that boy.” 

“That’s right, Maddie. Or nearly right. I didn’t undress him, not completely. You, on the other hand …” 

I’d hoped that. It seemed so daring to think I’d be naked in front of him.

I’d already been more daring than that, but being naked for him would be a new thing too. My legs trembled. It wasn’t fear. “Oh, sir…” 

“And you just made me feel extremely good, Maddie. Would you like to feel good after I’ve caned you?”

“Oh, please. Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Then ask me. Say: Please cane me. And then please fuck me.” 

I opened my mouth. Then I hesitated. It felt like he could already see me naked. I felt so shy.

E[lust] 96: What’s 69 backwards?

Elust 96

The other livvy header image Elust
Photo courtesy of The Other Livvy

Welcome to Elust 96

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #96 Start with the rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

The Loop

Yellow Cab Service

Pammy Corrigan Gets Her Wish

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Luring Him Back

Date Night

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

International Chocolate Day 2017 (it was fucking brill)

Erotic Fiction

Good Example – Part II
The Legend of Lyonesse
Broken to Be ~ Part 6
Star Talker: Part 1: Attack
Sex Magick

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

What gets me going
Top Ten Tips For Finding A Dominant Woman

Erotic Non-Fiction

BIG BOYS DON’T – Breaking down
Wank Bank Deposits
To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before – Thankyou
Erotic Transference. Falling For My Therapist
All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go

Body Talk and Sexual Health

A change would do you good…
Well in Hand

Events

A Memory of Master Aryn

Poetry

-04.07.17_20:26-

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Good news for elderly: Sex robots in nursing
Reasons not to work for News Corpse

Thoughts &Advice on Sex & Relationships

Elegance


Elust 88

Sinful Sunday: A moment’s peace

There’s a moment of peace after her Master puts the cane down, and tells her that it’s over and she’s been a good, brave girl. 

Her mind is at peace. She was caned for her Master’s pleasure, and hers. There was nothing for her to forgive herself for, nothing for him to forgive. He’d just woken up needing her submission, urgently, and he’d cuffed her to their bed, and reached for the cane.

His strokes hurt as they fell on her, of course. But how quickly those individual flashes of pain turn to warmth, to a kind of sensual glow, and then to sexual longing. She watched him as he raised the cane. His cock lifted with that movement: caning her turned him on. 

He takes photos for her to admire later, and then puts on a condom. And he leaves her cuffed, wrists and ankles spread for him, while he poises his body above hers, ready to take her. And then that moment of peace is over. 

Click on the lips to see other Sinful Sunday entries!

Novel excerpt: Out of the closet 3

Amy, still in the broom closet, my cock still in her, said, again, “Idiot.” But her tone was affectionate. It was, apparently, cute to be a jealous dickhead. Conditions probably applied, but this time I was being allowed to get away with it.

She reached back and dislodged my cock from its immensely comfortable place. She bounced on her toes, getting her knickers back in place and her dress down to cover her ass. So I dropped the condom in the pail and put my cock back into my pants and zipped up. Amy straightened, grabbed at the shelf above us for balance, and turned to kiss me. There was a sound from above.

Bad advice, as always from these things. I’m here to tell you: you don’t need to have sex in a closet.

I kissed her. We kissed. She said, “You’re my idiot.” Something heavy wobbled on that shelf above our heads. I heard it fall on its side, then roll, then nothing more.

I pushed Amy against the back wall of the closet for safety, and tried to duck whatever was coming down.

My sudden movement pushed the closet door open, and I toppled, clutching Amy, and anything else I could grab hold of, trying to stop my fall. So my fall became our fall.

Suddenly we were on the gallery floor, in a confused pile with brooms and mops and coats and mobcaps, and Amy’s body and mine. And the rusted tin of paint thinner that had tried to brain me. I looked up, confused and aggrieved by life, and a second later light exploded.

Flawed, me. And floored.

Someone, no, several people, were taking photos. Amy was turned away, looking for her shoes.

So it was portrait of me, bewildered and resentful, with Amy’s hair and most of her legs visible. But I hadn’t thought about the media yet.

Instead I found I was staring up into the eyes of the gallery’s guest of honour, Rico, the Minister for the Arts. Rico was in the Lega Nord, and a fascist in the seldom-used literal sense of the word.

He looked down on us, aghast. He thought this was done deliberately to humiliate him. He shouted, “tu puttana!” He meant Amy was a whore. Sexual insults directed at women were always ready to hand.

It took a few seconds’ thought to come up with something for me. “Tu malvagio disgustoso! Morta cristo ebreo!” I was surprised. I didn’t think I looked especially Jewish. But I suppose anyone who made him angry gained honorary Jewish status.

Frankly, I’d rather fuck in Compton

So the cameras switched from me to Rico. He was still shouting at us. Although there was a moment when he paused, realizing that his bizarre antisemitism was going to be get him bad headlines. All the bad headlines.

Instead he shouted that we were foul, disgusting sexual degenerates, and how dare we fuck, fuck of all things, in this sacred place for the arts!

I looked up at him. Amy was still dazed by the fall. I shouted, “We weren’t fucking!” The lie absolute. I decided to go for the lie surreal. “This is art! Performance Art, you fucking moron

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s virginity (last hours 8)

I stayed on my knees [Maddie said], suckling the headmaster’s cock as it softened in my mouth. His hand in my hair no longer gripped me quite so tight.

He’d meant it to hurt while I pulled my head forward to take all of him into my mouth. Now it was a caress.

Eventually it was soft. It still felt huge in my mouth. I kissed it one more time, as he finally withdrew. I knelt before him still, not knowing quite what to do.

His taste was still in my mouth. I wondered if, back in class, people could smell it only breath.

He smiled down at me.

“Good girl, Maddie. That was very well done. I’d never have guessed it was your first time. I think you were made for this too, don’t you?”

“Oh my god. Yes, sir.” I liked that he thought that. For him I’d stay on my knees forever. I was in my place, where I’d always longed to be, even before I knew it. And I liked that I was the place he wanted to put his cock. 

“Oh, yes, sir!”

When I was a little girl I’d always enjoyed chances to please my teachers. I’d clean blackboards, But it made me feel singled out. I took his cock, kissed it reverently one last time, and tucked it back into this underpants.

It showed signs of life again. I smiled up at him. This cock: it was going to be properly in me this afternoon. After school. After he’d caned me for being late.

He smiled back. I zipped him up, and rocked back a little, still on my knees. I felt special. His helper.

Novel excerpt: Out of the closet 2

In that broom closet, as I entered her, Amy said, “You.” I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but it wasn’t hostile. I pushed my cock further into her, thumbs still digging hard into that crease between her buttocks and thighs.

She said, “Idiot.” But it seemed that at moment she liked idiots. We began to move together, Amy’s ass beautifully firm in my hands and beautifully soft to the pressure of my cock.

We moved faster, and I felt her elbows slipping. She’d stopped holding her hands out.

Amy fell forward, her breasts and face pressed hard and helpless against the closet wall. She scrabbled at the closet wall for a grip, with nothing to grip. We fucked harder. 

It was pitch black in there, but I felt sure I knew her facial expression at every second, at every movement. I believed she knew the same about me.

I could feel her body tense, and that was no reason to stop or ask how she was. I pumped her, my stomach pressed against her ass.

In a while – my sense of time is never good in these moments – she said, “Nggggh. Fuck!” And, a few seconds later, “fuck me!”

I already was. I did. I smacked her bottom, as much of it as I could reach. It was a moving target. And again. And in a few more seconds Amy gasped for breath, and her body shook.

I wrapped my arms round her stomach, holding her tight against me. We came, more or less at the same time. It was hard to be quiet when we came, but we managed.

Eventually I released my grip on her stomach and raised my hands to hold her breasts. Amy tried to turn, to kiss me, but at that moment I wasn’t going to let her move. 

I smacked her bottom again. I said, “Yeah, girl. You are not to- Look, just no fucking fucking art critics.”

Novel excerpt: Out of the closet 1

So we were together, Amy saying thank god I’d rescued her from Mr Suave. I didn’t say how jealous I’d been, because that was discreditable. But jealousy and idiocy were still driving me. I walked her into the crowd, which had grown since the Minister’s speech, such being the power of free wine and food. And I pulled her towards me, and opened a door I’d noticed before, hoping it led to another room, possibly an unoccupied one.

Amy said, “Are you serious? The broom closet?”

I said, as if I’d known it was a broom closet, “Yes!” I spun, with my hands on Amy’s hips so that we both disappeared inside.

There was total blackness once I pulled the door closed. Then light; Amy had turned on the torch on her phone. She held it for me while I carefully moved mops and brooms, a metal pail with rollers to squeeze mops, and an upright vacuum cleaner to one end of the closet. “Put your damn hands on the wall, like your fucking friend,” I said.

There were things Amy could say to me about that, and I knew it, but she complied. She was being a good girl: that had mostly proven to be fun. I took her phone from her hand and slipped it into my jacket pocket.

We were back in total blackness. I pulled the little black cocktail dress up at the back and lifted it, Amy wriggling to help, and arching her back so her ass was poised for me.

I still had jealous anger driving me, and lust with it, though I’d started to realize I hadn’t broken up a romance between her and the critic; more heroically, if inadvertently, I’d rescued her. But that spurious sense of justified anger propelled me, and I smacked Amy’s right buttock and pulled her little knickers aside. I shook out a condom from my wallet, unzipped and put it on. I held her hips with all my strength, and pushed, cock hard and righteous, into her. Amy sighed. “Yeah.”

I slid my hands down to hold her lower buttocks, interested in the creased skin at the meeting of her buttocks and thighs. I said, “Creases.” Suddenly the word seemed to have intense sexual significance. And I sank into her, so our bodies met, my cock fully buried in wet, warm Amy. Ensconced.

 

[To be continued, after Sinful Sunday.]