Sinful Sunday: Shake it all about

God! It’s huge!

Uncomfortable?

Master! You should bloody try it and see.

Actually, I don’t think I will, girl. Who’s Master?

The man who just shoved a plug up my bum? 

The same. Ah, would you like me to take it out?

Er, no. It’s kind of ok. I think I could get used to it. Thank you. No.

Click on the lips for more Sinful Sunday goodness!

Sinful Sunday: Consolation

Arethusa said, Oh, Master. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Master. I – 

No, it’s over, darling. And you were brave and good. And your – the fault’s forgotten. You’ve paid for it, the slate’s clean and you’re a good girl again. I’ll never mention it again. 

[I was telling the truth. I’ve genuinely forgotten what the fault was that led to the stripes in this picture. It would be something that I felt harmed her interests, and that I’d warned her about. And that she’d repeated anyway. It’d be laziness or carelessness, because she doesn’t wilfully disobey.]

But I hate disappointing you. I feel … [She shook her head, still on all fours on our bed.]

Shhhh, love. You’re a good girl. Wonderful fucking girl. You’re a good girl with a sore arse, right now. But I do know how wonderful you are. I know that I love you, little one. 

[Arethusa isn’t a brat. She likes to be good. The worst thing about being punished, for her, isn’t the pain, which happens often enough for purely sexual reasons, but having to feel bad because she’d disappointed her master and lover.]

I know that too. And I love you, Master. But I let you down. 

Here. Relax, ‘thuse. You’re the world to me. And …

Ahh… Yeah, yes…

[And that’s when I took this photo, left-handed. Just before I put my right thumb where any person of sense, in love with the woman on that bed and wanting her to feel good, would put their thumb. And hold her firmly and begin to stroke, and then pump. There was no more conversation for some time, and no more talk about feeling guilty. Eventually, cuddled in spoon position on the bed, we slept the rest of the afternoon away.]

Click on the lips for more Sinful Sunday goodness!

Wicked Wednesday 240: Jennifer’s pleats and pleas 13: A fresh slate?

Maddie had asked me if she could suck my cock. It was true that she enjoyed giving head, and under some circumstances she could come from it. More or less. Actually she could come if she could find something she could press her pussy against, like her ankle, in some positions, or my leg. Still, she certainly enjoyed it, and was rightly proud of being good at it. 

A good girl: Maddie at 4.30, Version 1

But this time she’d probably offered because she was worried I was annoyed with her for being free with her advice, and for the shambolic condition of the photocopy room. And I had the cane in my hand.

So she  hoped that her lips around my cock would distract me from giving her more of that cane.

But I’d fucked her only a few minutes earlier. Probably I would get hard once she took me in her mouth, and even come, because she really was skilled and enthusiastic. But the urge was no longer urgent. And I knew it’d be an urgent need later today. 

So I stepped back and zipped up, while she watched warily. “No.” 

“As you wish, sir.” Maddie sounded dismayed. She watched, with alarm, the hand that held the cane. 

Erwin Schrödinger: famous for thought-experiments involving pussies

“Get Jennifer into my office after school, giving me a good reason to have called her. And have this room tidy and spotless. If you do both of those things, to my satisfaction, then you can suck me off.” 

She nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Stand up.”

Maddie stood, her skirt still around her hips. I smacked her pussy, hard, with my hand. She grunted with the impact of my palm on her most sensitive skin.

Her eyes seemed to glaze. I liked the feel of her pussy against my hand while I hurt her, so I smacked her again. And again, while Maddie kept herself open, and still. Then I smacked her left inner thigh, hard, and she spread her legs wider for me. I put the cane against her labia. “Step forward.”

“Sir.” Maddie obeyed, so that the cane, where it had been touching her, disappeared between her lips. There was both excitement and fear in her eyes. She wanted to ride it, press the bamboo deeper into her and slide wetly back and forth on it, but she didn’t dare.

I nodded at her. I’m not sure if she saw me. All her attention was focused on her pussy, and the effort to keep still. I said, “Fail at either task, and what do you think happens instead?”

A bad girl: Maddie at 4.30PM, version 2

She shook her head, trying to concentrate. “I’d have to undress and bend over your desk. And you’d cane me. Sir.” You could hear it in her voice: I was a monster.

“We’ll discuss your recent behaviour, yes. For a very long, painful time, Maddie.”

She nodded. She knew that was true.

“And when we’re dome you’ll find driving home very uncomfortable. And you’ll be standing up or lying on your tummy for the next few days. That’s a guarantee.”

Maddie looked at my shoes. “Sir.”

I took the cane away from her pussy, and smacked the top of her right thigh. Then I held it so she could hold the middle. “This has got you all over it. Clean it, and put it away.”

“Yes sir.”

“I hope I do have to cane you, Maddie. It wipes the slate clean. It’s always a new start for you, whenever you’ve been punished.”

“That’s true, sir. I hope Jennifer comes to learn that.”

 I stepped back. “Right. We’re done for now. You may leave.”

“Thank you, sir.” She stood and tucked her top back into her skirt. She retrieved her panties from beside the photocopier and lifted her foot to put them on.

“No. Put them in your drawer. However today ends, you won’t be needing those.”

Maddie blushed. That meant she expected to pass both tests. If she’d expected to get the cane instead of the cock, she’d have paled.

I knew she was happy as things were, so I resisted the urge to smack her bare bottom fondly, or to say something approving or reassuring to her. I turned without a word and walked through the door into my office.

 

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 136: Ambiguity and the cane

Lynette had watched Lynette’s struggles, now with extra red stripes across the tops of her thighs, and Dorabella’s breasts while she fought to keep Raylene in place across her desk.

She stepped closer to me so we watched together, breathing in unison. Lynette whispered to me, “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah. They’re hot.”

“But you’re not doing that to me. You’re not going to cane me.” 

I kissed her. She put her hands on the back of my head and kissed back. She meant it, as did I. So we were engrossed for a time.

Lynette did nothing to keep her body away from my erection, even when I slipped my free hand under her skirt, to cup and then squeeze her ass. Eventually I took a breath and smiled. “Well, that’s up to you.” 

William “Neckbeard” Empson, of Seven Types of Ambiguity fame. I’d used Type 3: the same word or phrase expressing two conflicting ideas

“Ah. That’s one of the types of ambiguity.” She was right.

At surface level it meant I wouldn’t cane her unless she asked me too. But I’d also meant that I wouldn’t cane her if she behaved herself, but I might if she didn’t: and how she behaved was up to her. 

“Can’t have play if you don’t have ambiguity,” I said, which can’t possibly be true, so I distracted her, reaching my fingers under her ass to stroke damp, soft, perineal skin. Lynette closed her eyes, still kissing me.

So there was no more discussion, even though the topic was interesting and all. 

Dorabella made an unconvincing cough noise. She hadn’t let Raylene get her body off the desk, so she’d been good. And Raylene was back under her own control, her body still and expectant, her feet well parted and her bottom posed and poised for the cane.

So I gave Lynette the look that means duty calls, and she nodded. But my fingertips reached, and pressed against, the outer folds of her cunt, and she made a sweet, soft sound. But I withdrew my hand after a few seconds, shaking my head. “We’ll want you here one minute past twelve, Lynette. Don’t you be a second late.”

“Is that a threat?” But she was bright-eyed, amused by me again.

“Well, it could be. But mainly it was desire. Um, extreme desire.” 

“Ok.” We looked each other in the eyes. We were both going to fuck Raylene after midnight, and then each other. And so the night would pass. But right now… 

I picked up the cane, looked into Dorabella’s eyes for a few seconds, and said, “That was well done.” She glanced for a second at the cane in my hand, but said nothing. Silence is another type of ambiguity.

I tapped the bamboo across Raylene’s upper thighs. She’d already taken a few strokes on that most sensitive flesh, but now I was going to mark them properly.

She said, “Oh fuck…” She knew what those taps meant.  

Those stripes would still be burning when I fucked her, whether I put her on her back or took her from behind. And I was certain that Raylene wanted that pain as much as I did. 

I said, “Ready?” She laughed. I raised the cane. 

 

Wicked Wednesday: Jennifer’s pleats and pleas 12: She’ll be coming when she comes

Maddie was on her knees before me, skirt round her waist and her panties on the floor near the photocopier. She had her hands on my shoes, the taste of my come in her mouth, and a fresh, vertical cane stroke running down her left buttock. 

And she had a plan to tell me. She said, “You know Jennifer wants to give herself to you.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“It’s silly to pretend you don’t know that. She wants you to take her under your wing. She wants to be disciplined, so long as it’s by you, and she wants you to steer her to achieve what she’s capable of. And she wants you to steer her sexually. Learn from you, but also give you pleasure.”

“You know this just by listening to her getting spanked?”

“I know where she is, sir. I was a girl like her, once. Come of age, but no idea what to do. I was doing a lot of acting out, sexually. But I wanted an adult man to teach me. Not schoolboys. So does she. She nearly came when she was over your knee. And she was giddy afterwards. Happy. Wanting you. God, the things that men don’t notice.”

I knew that Maddie was talking about herself at 18 as much as she was talking about Jennifer. Still, calling me obtuse, and her earlier use of the word ‘silly’, had pushed her over the line. I raised the cane and brought it down on her pale and round right cheek. “Ahhh!”

She wriggled and breathed through the pain, keeping her eyes on mine, the way she did when she sucked my cock. Because she was watching, I raised the cane again, and – when the alarm was clear in her eyes – slashed it down again, onto the reddening, slightly raised trail of the previous stroke.

Maddie waggled her delicious bottom harder, like a duck leaving the water, fighting to stay in her position while the pain ran through her. “Ahhh-Hooo! Oh, sir!” 

“Insolence, Maddie. Try to keep it to a minimum. Even when you’re telling me what you think I should do.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect, sir. First, I think you need to let her wait for a bit, and want you. She’ll give you a reason to punish her again soon. She’ll make sure of that. But let her wait till she’s feeling brave, and horny, again. It won’t be long.”

“All right.”

Who doesn’t enjoy aftercare?

“And when she does misbehave, you should punish her, certainly. Over your knee. Nice and slow. Let her enjoy herself. But this time you should let her come.”

“And then punish her for being a filthy girl?”

“You may, sir, but I hope you don’t. I hope you pretend not to notice, to spare her any embarrassment. But you should give her a lot of affection afterwards.”

“Rub her. Kiss her. Stroke her. Praise her?”

“Absolutely. A lot. She’ll need it. She’ll be dazed. It’ll be her first orgasm with a man. It should be happy.”

I thought about that. All advice is autobiography. Something bad had happened to Maddie in her transition from girl to woman. She was telling me to do what she thought would have been best for her. But I had no better map for how to lead Jennifer. I said, again, “All right.” 

Maddie kissed my cock, through my trousers. “And she’d love you to fuck her. and to teach her how to please you. Eventually you will. But in the meantime you should wait, and make her wait. Spank her, make her undress completely and bend over your desk naked for the cane: whatever you think she deserves. Then comfort her until she comes. But don’t take her yet. Let her make the move when she’s ready. She will.”

“Hmmm.” If Jennifer had come, there’d have been no stopping us. I’d have tipped her onto her back, on the floor of my office, and taken that virginity. That was why I’d had to stop so suddenly. On the other hand, Maddie’s approach seemed likely to introduce Jennifer to some of the wilder pleasures, while imposing frustration on me.

Maddie applied her tongue to where the tip of my cock was. “And then when you’ve shown her out the door you can take that nice hard cock of yours into the photocopier room. I’ll look after it.”

“Ah, I see. Motives. I’m sure you will.”

“May I suck your cock, sir?”

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 135: Raylene’s second dozen

Note:

This is a story about something that happened relatively early in my bdsm career. But I’d been doing wicked things long enough to learn that submissive women, though wonderful, aren’t made of porcelain, and that it’s not necessarily bad if I made a submissive woman cry. In the right way, not because of emotional hurt.

Also, I was about half-way out about bdsm, not through my own choice but because I had ex-girlfriends who gossiped with their friends that – with their consent – I spanked them and told them what to do. That meant that some women avoided going to bed with me, while others would pop round to see me, precisely because of that.

It was Raylene, heroine of our story, who made me realise that my interest in bdsm wasn’t so much a secret as a reputation, at least in the circle of women I knew, and that there was a good side to being a safe, non-scary bad boy.

(I could’ve been the centrefold for Lisa Simpson’s guilty subscription: “Non-threatening Bad Boys”.)

The last episode of this story was posted back in October. We left Raylene naked, with a sore ass, bent over her bedroom desk and about to get her second dozen, enjoying the sexual admiration of two girls (one of them her half-sister, so that didn’t entirely count, except that in complicated ways it did count) and the intense sexual appreciation of one man: me.

A lot of things had happened very quickly between Raylene and me, once I recognised who and what she was. It helped that Raylene already knew about me, and steered things in the direction she wanted to go. I was following, while thinking I was leading.

Anyway, she liked submission, and she was no end of an exhibitionist, so she was brightly striped and giddily happy. If you want to see where we are and how we got here, that post is here.

 Episode 135

We were all in position. Lynette taking video with my cellphone, Dorabella pushing Raylene’s shoulders down, under threat of getting a share of Raylene’s extra strokes if she let Raylene get up, and me, holding the heavier cane and visibly pleased about the while situation.

I’d tapped the cane against the tops of Raylene’s thighs, to let her know that was going to be a target area. Still, it was a new cane, a bit thicker than the one I’d given the first dozen with, so I swung it medium-hard, against the most excellenty padded part of her bottom.

Raylene jerked under the impact, so that Dorabella tensed, ready to wrestle her down. She grunted, than arched her ass up for the next stroke. 

There was nothing Raylene could do that wouldn’t have the effect of turning me on, but I realised I missed the soprano pain-sounds she’d been making during the first dozen strokes. To get those sounds I could go a little harder, and I would, but there was another option. 

“Open your mouth, Raylene.”

“Yes, master.” I couldn’t see her face, but she was being a good girl now. An ostentatiously good girl. So I was sure she’d be looking as if she was at the dentist. 

“Good. You’re not to close your mouth again until I say you can.”

It’s hard to speak without closing your mouth at all. I heard something like “Ess, ‘aster.”

Then I applied the second stroke, a little lower and a little harder. Her whole body jerked under the impact, with a flurry of blue-green hair. Her breath hissed out, then she drew a fresh breath. She said, “Uh, uh, ahhhh…” before she had herself back under control.

It took two more strokes, each lower and harder than the last, before Raylene resumed soprano voice, and her pain-song.

I wasn’t sure why I liked that sound so much, I mean liked it so very, very, much. But it was at once the hottest and most tender sound in the universe.

And once we’d reached that place, I gave Raylene two fast hard strokes across the tops of her thighs.

That made her all activity, legs kicking, arms waving, trying to get purchase on her desk, while she sang that sweet, incoherent song.

Dorabella had to push down with all her strength. Her robe fell open, and both Lynette and I watched their struggle. Lynette’s mouth fell open too.

I said, “That’s six, Raylene. You’ve been good, and brave. But there’s six to go, plus the one penalty stroke.”

Raylene moaned. You can do that with your mouth open.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 134: Running on the spot 3

Lynette was first in the room. She stood at the door for a while, watching Raylene’s ass as she joggled and ran on the spot, lifting her knees high. Then she looked at me. 

“That’s to prevent bruising, is it?” 

“Yeah. And reduce swelling.” 

“Hah!” That was Dorabella, looming up behind Lynette. She was looking at my cock.

I glanced down. I was in swollen condition, that was pretty obvious even through my jeans. “Okay. I meant reducing swelling for Raylene’s ass.” Raylene glanced at me. It seemed to be some sort of warning. Maybe I was saying her bum looked big, wearing nothing but cane stripes. “But it’s not universally effective, no.” 

Lynette said, “It affects me. I – No, never mind. This conversation has gone south. Really south.” 

Dorabella was still staring at my cock. I’m a short stocky guy, and that’s about the best you can say for my looks. But for now I was a sex object. That doesn’t happen enough for me to get sick of it. So I smiled at Dorabella, and at Lynette. No reason. Just happy. 

A reminder should be given, every so often, that at the time Raylene had blue-green hair

A reminder should be given, every so often, that at the time Raylene had blue-green hair

But Raylene, still jogging on the spot obediently, was starting to breathe hard. I said, “Raylene.”

She stopped. Her breasts stopped a couple of seconds later. I waited that couple of seconds, because that was beautiful and distracting. “Good girl. You’re doing well, Raylene.” She nodded, knowing that praise, though good, wasn’t where I was going. “But I’m going to give you your second dozen now. Well, a dozen, and one penalty stroke. Baker’s dozen.”

She nodded again, face serious, as if some part of her believed this was fair and right. I said, “So I want you to bend over the desk again now. Same position. Same conditions: don’t get up or you’ll be in trouble.”  

Dorabella and Lynette walked all the way into the room while Raylene said, “Yes, master,” and pressed the tops of her thighs against the edge of the desk before leaning forward and lowering her body to rest on the cold, cold wood.

Dorabella looked to me, once her sister was back in place. “I still hold her down?”

“If you know what’s good for you.” Dorabella sniffed, not sure if I was kidding. Nor was I.

cane-for-2Then I decided that I wasn’t kidding. If I gave Raylene extra strokes for getting up, I’d tell Dorabella she was getting the same, and to drop the robe and bend over on her side of the desk, facing her sister.

I’d had hints from Dorabella, and maybe it was time to put her on the spot.

I’d look stupid if she refused, and I’d just have to back down as gracefully as I could. But I figured I should try, and leave Dorabella to flip the coin. If she obeyed, she’d get three strokes and then the attention would go back to Raylene. But that would give her plenty to mull over until our time tomorrow. Anyway, Dorabella wasn’t going let Raylene get up, so it was likely to be a hypothetical problem. 

While Dorabella took her place at the other side of the desk, hands pressed firmly down on Raylene’s shoulders, I passed Lynette my phone again. “Filming duty.” 

“Yes, sir!” The “sir” was mockery, still, but I didn’t mind. Irony isn’t as powerful as some people think. Lynette took the phone, activated the camera, and then filmed the front of my jeans. I snorted laughter, and after a second so did she. She switched to focus on Raylene’s ass. 

thighsI tapped the cane against the tops of Raylene’s thighs. This second dozen would give more attention to her thighs. It seemed only fair.

“Straighten your legs, Raylene. Bit further apart. Better; good girl. Now get your ass arched up.”

While she complied I tapped the cane against the same place at the top of her thighs, but a little harder so that she winced, and a new, pinkish stripe formed. 

Then I raised the cane. “Okay. Second dozen. We begin.” 

Terror of the Cane! (Or: How to make a caning sexy)

I’ve been meaning to write about the cane, and how it can be used in ways that make it just the right amount of scary. It should be a bit scary, and there should be a sense of milestone and achievement about taking the cane, but it shouldn’t be so scary that it gets in the way of it being sexy.  

No really, you can always trust a man with a cane in his hand...

No really, you can always trust a man with a cane in his hand… (From Restrained Elegance )

The truth is that the cane’s reputation is somewhat more fearsome than the reality. I know it’s all very well for a dom to say that, since I’m never going to be at the receiving end of a caning. But doms learn by paying attention. 

What I’ve learned about making the cane not too scary is that you talk about it first.

A dom about to introduce someone to the cane should mention that it doesn’t have to be as scary as it’s made out to be. The dom should say – and they’d better be clear on this in their own minds – that they’re going to take care. There are rewards for the submissive, like the hotness of the “you’re going to get the cane” scenario, the sharp clear sensation of a cane-stroke, and the beauty of the cane stripes afterwards. 

How getting consent works depends on your relationship. With Arethusa and I, there wasn’t any prior discussion because it wasn’t that kind of relationship. I was her master and (conditions applied) consents had already been given. It was a punishment caning and not for pleasure. Well, not hers, anyway. I’d warned her that I’d cane her if she missed another assignment deadline, and she did. So there was nothing to discuss.

Instead I told her how disappointed I was, produced the cane, flexed it in an alarming manner and told her to get her clothes off and bend over the table. She could have used her safe word or said it was a hard limit, or she could obey. She chose to obey. Neither of us had any doubt that she would.

In other relationships I’ve talked about it first, and introduced the cane in a sexual context rather than a punishment one. Of course  a punishment scenario is a sex scenario too, just a couple of layers of rhetoric deeper down. Anyway, the wise dom goes at the submissive’s speed, and doesn’t just get driven by their own desires. Or not completely.

Anyway, once they’ve got informed consent, the dom should usually start with a slow warm-up before introducing the cane. The idea is to focus on things that the dom knows the submissive enjoys. Usually, that means using hand-on-skin at first, and some of the more familiar instruments that the submissive partner already likes.

At some stage the dom switches to the cane, but it should be with continuity, not with a sudden “and now we’re going to get serious!” change of pace and mood.

caned-russianThe idea is to keep the intensity of the cane low, at first. I like to give four or five light strokes, like a drummer using brushes on his drums, and then one stroke a bit harder. Repeat, and repeat, for a long time. Without going harder. Usually, the submissive getting the cane will find that quite pleasant, in a floaty way.

Stay there for a while, with lots of stroking in general and cunt-stroking (or cock-stroking, if that’s your submissive’s equipment) in particular, and the submissive and the cane will settle down together. After a while – the dom should be watching his or her submissive very closely – it may be time to increase the intensity and make the strokes a bit harder.

The dom’s job is to watch the submissive and back off any time it looks or feels like it’s hurting too much for it to be sexy, and take it back to the level the submissive was enjoying before. Towards the end the intensity should increase, and the strokes should get harder. But the aim is to get pink stripes, not red, or raised (much) or bruising.

The dom shouldn’t be too ambitious the first time, but the next time, taking and applying all the things that worked best the first time, it can probably be taken all the way up to leaving marks that outlast the caning by a few hours and have it be sexy, at least for submissives who like impact play at all. 

By the way a hard caning leaves marks that last over a week. That’s not a good idea for a first time, though you will know your own relationship. Usually, with a first, pleasure-focussed caning, a few hours is fine.  

caneThe stripe in the First Strike picture is unusual, because it was Arethusa’s first, and it’s a punishment stroke. There was no warm-up and it was a firm to medium hard stroke. The marks of that caning lasted about four days.

It’s not the stroke you’d deliver first if you were wanting to demonstrate that the cane is good, sexy fun. What I wanted to demonstrate was, “You want to graduate? From now on do your assignments on time, or you’ll do them standing up!”

But even then, as I said, she finished up liking the fact that she was a girl who got the cane, though not exactly loving each instant of impact. 

The point is, based on reactions and comments from submissives, there’s ways of making a caning pleasurable, and the cane probably is worth exploring some time, Especially for submissives who like impact play but are freaked out by the cane’s reputation.

I'm nerd enough to have three canes. The bamboo, the lighter rattan (whose effect can be seen above) and the heavier dragon cane, also rattan. But the point with a cane is not the implement but how it is used.)

I’m nerd enough to have three canes. The bamboo, the lighter rattan (whose effect can be seen above) and the heavier dragon cane, also rattan. But the point with a cane is not the implement but how it is used.)

Those submissive should make sure they explore it with someone they really trust and who knows that they find the idea scary.

The dom has to get the set (the emotional and physical expectations), the setting (the place where it happens and the submissive’s position while being caned) and the emotional flow just right.

The dom has to take care of the submissive before, during and afterwards.

There’s much more to be said, but on the day lust and love should do most of what’s needed. 

Note:

This post began as a reply to sub-bee (so hat-tip to her), when she commented on the First Strike post.  

Sinful Sunday: First strike

cane

She’d failed to get university assignments in before. But that stripe was the first she’d ever had in her life. It was the first time she’d ever felt the cane.

I’d warned her that I’d cane her if she didn’t get the work done and handed in. But it turned out that the warning wasn’t enough.

She knew there were 11 strokes to go, and that she deserved each and every one of them. But with that first strike, and that first stripe, her life changed. 

Notes

I haven’t written about this woman often, but her name, for blog purposes, is Arethusa. That really is her first ever cane stripe, and that’s the reason she got it, even though it sounds like a cliché. Her motivation went right up.

In the short term, anyway. She started liking the cane, or at least she liked being-a-girl-who-gets-the-cane because her Master cares, and she liked just-having-been-caned so the slate is clean, and it’s sexy. So it stopped having the same behaviour-modifying effect. Oh well. I helped in other ways. 

Anyway, the photo. I took several shots of this moment, because she’d want a record, but I like this one best. She stayed in position, so this is just a few seconds after the stroke. I suppose it’s the way her lovely bottom rises, freshly decorated, with the promise of more: including a change in our relationship.

It represents a new dawn. 

For more Sinful Sunday entries, click here.

sinfulsundaylips150-1

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 133: Running on the spot 2

She laughed again. “You! You’re not making it up as you go along. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

I decided to leave that unchallenged. It wasn’t remotely true, but it was good that she thought so. So I shrugged, I hope ambiguously. “Anyway, I’m falling in love with you. And, you don’t have to fall in love with me. I just blurted.”

“Yeah. It’s okay. Seriously, it’s much better than okay. Just .. give me time, ok?”

“Yeah.” To mark of the end of one sensitive conversation, and to remind her of other sensitivities, I smacked her ass, hot and welted under my hand.

Raylene jolted. “Yah fuck!”

hands-on-head-canedSo I smacked her again, then let my hand stay, stroking her. Firm, beautifully rounded, a little rough where the cane had directly landed, and blazing heat.

She said, “Jesus, my arse is sore. How long does it hurt for?”

“Well, this is peak hurt. It lasts maybe half an hour from the last cane stroke, though it’ll keep on hurting quite a lot, slightly lower level, for a couple of hours. Especially after I’ve given you the second dozen.”

“Yuh. I haven’t forgotten. Master.”

“Good girl. It’ll maybe hurt most of today. Though it’ll be at a lower level. You’ll feel it, but it’ll be background. And you’ll probably like it. A nice, sexy, buzzing feeling. And I’ll be looking after you. And for the next couple days you’ll get a reminder any time you sit down. Or, I don’t know, walk backwards into anything. And don’t forget I can bring you back to peak hurt anytime, just by smacking you hard with my hand. And I won’t hesitate, if you’re out of line for a second. You put the Me in Master.”

She frowned. “And without the ME it’s a-s-t-r. Star! Ah! You’re a star Master!” 

“Yeah, it was really stupid when I said it. Now it sounds cool.” 

“You’re going to hurt me when you fuck me.” That was a demand.

“Promise. That’s a promise. Not accidentally.”

Her eyes shone. She might not be in love with me, but we were perverts. “Yeah.”

I heard the bathroom door open. “Yeah indeed. Now. Running on the spot, Raylene.”

“What?”

running-on-spotI put the cane in her mouth, for her to hold. And I put my cock all the way back inside my jeans “On the spot. Running. Get your knees up.”

“Ub.” Raylene took her hands down from her head, and shambled into action.  

“Knees higher or I’ll beat you. Girl.”

Raylene lifted her knees. I could hear Dorabella, still talking, in the corridor. Raylene jogged and jiggled, with her spectacular back to the door.

I’m a good host.