Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 4

So the four of us swayed together, Arethusa and Cash, Delores and me. Arethusa was my current slave, Cash had never been a slave, but I’d introduced her to bdsm, in a relationship that lasted one night. We’d both wanted more, but circumstances were against us. It seemed we were about to have more. And Arethusa and Cash were new to each other, and fancied each other with all the power that comes from newness. 

Delores was my ex too, but she didn’t fancy girls at all. So she wasn’t for threesomes, or foursomes. Anyway, she wouldn’t fuck a man who wasn’t single, and I clearly wasn’t that. So our kiss was more affectionate. I had lots of things to ask her about how she’d been since we’d last met, which was a few months ago now. 

But it was Cash who broke the foursome. The dj had put on Daft Punk’s Get Lucky, and her ass needed to bop to it. She tried to drag Arethusa and me onto the floor, but Arethusa didn’t like electronica much, and I liked staying with Arethusa. So Cash raced back into the mix of dancers. 

So we watched Cash go, until she was on the dance floor, moving to a rhythm exactly twice as fast as Daft Punk, and I bought champagne for Arethusa, Delores and me. They keep the area around the bar in near pitch-darkness so you can’t see your change. You measure it by weight. They didn’t leave me much to carry, apart from the champagne. 

We talked for a while, the three of us. Delores and Arethusa were very different people, and they didn’t find much in common. Except me, I guess. I got the latest news from Delores, about her family, and whether she’d found a good dom yet. She hadn’t. I made encouraging remarks, but I didn’t have any dom friends I could recommend.

She told Arethusa an anecdote about the time I’d punished her for losing her purse, and how she’d finally stopped being careless after that. 

Arethusa smiled. “He’s good at that.” But I could tell she was finding Delores a little boring. That was a pity.  

Delores hugged me, and shook Arethusa’s hand. “Lovely to meet you. But I’m going to get fucked and bruised tonight. So I’d better do some circulating. See you soon.”

She went into the darker areas on the far side of the dance floor. I looked at Arethusa. “That was rude.” 

“I’m sorry, Master.” She looked down. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s a nice person. I just wanted time with you. On your own.”

“Don’t you want Cash?”

“Um.” She smiled. “Oh yes. She’ll be an ornament to our bed.”

“So what you just said, about just wanting me was bullshit, wasn’t it?”

“Um. Yes. I’m sorry, Master. I suppose I was being a snob.”

“I suppose that too. Hold out your hand.”

“Here?” Then she thought better of protesting. She held out her hand, palm flat upward, while I fished a narrow strip of leather, about a centimetre across, from my pocket. I gave her four strokes on her right hand. It’s a bdsm club. She had quite an audience by the time she got her fourth stroke. Her face clearly showed they’d hurt.

Arethusa isn’t an exhibitionist, but she liked being held in strict control. I said, “Other hand.” 

This time she obeyed quickly and properly, holding out her left hand palm up with a “Yes, Master.” I watched her eyes, and she watched mine while I gave her the next four strokes. 

She waited for permission. I nodded, and she shook her hands, as if she could waggle the pain into the air. Finally she gasped and said, “Thank you, Master.”

“That’s better. Good girl. Now come with me.”

I led her into the seats and tables in the dark. There was a space by the slavegirl who’d been surreptitiously sucking her Master’s cock. She was sitting up now, her task completed. She was immensely proud of herself, and introduced herself cheerfully, and mentioned that she’d caught the last few seconds of Arethusa’s punishment. So they were two good girls together.

They seemed to get on better than she had with Delores. I’d have to ask her later what that had been about. I didn’t think it was jealousy.

Her Master and I congratulated each other on the excellence of our good girls, so that they could hear it. And we talked about where we were from, and he made the joke about the lights around the bar that I used above. After a while, he sent his girl to get more champagne, and we sat back. Arethusa climbed onto my lap. I kissed her. She kissed me. She was happy again. 

In the meantime, Delores about to have a complicated night. So I’m going to leave Arethusa and me in comfort, and follow Delores’s adventures for the next episode or two. 

Don’t do that! 3

Remember: those knickers only count as consent if she’s signed them

Gavain thought. What had he learned about himself, from smacking Cassie’s bottom? “Spanking you felt good, I mean as a sensual experience. There’s that.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Gawain. That’s so appalling I can’t even tell whether you’re trying to talk your way out of trouble. I tell you what, though.”

“What?”

“I know you. We’re friends. I know you’re not a psycho or a misogynist. But that pat on the ass thing, that gets harder when I’m getting closer to coming: I noticed that.”

“Didn’t feel subtle, then?”

“No woman wouldn’t notice. Thing is,not everyone knows you’re not a nutcase. So there are a lot of girls, probably the majority, who aren’t going to all that delighted when a man offers to hit them. Even if he means it in a nice sexy way. Cause they don’t think there is a nice way or a sexy way. So your chances of getting them back into your bed are close to zero.”

Gavain nodded, considering that. It seemed likely to be true. He said, “Yeah.”

There’s no sneaky way of spanking someone. They will notice.

“You know, even for girls who aren’t shocked, maybe even girls who’d like to be spanked more than me, it still feels like you’re trying to be sneaky. No one likes that.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re an ok person, and you pay attention when you’re fucking. I like the way you fuck. I bet lots of girls like fucking you. Or they would. So I’m not getting at you.”

“Yeah.”

“No! You don’t get to sulk! You’re the one who smacked my ass.”

Don’t do that again! 2

NOTE

This is Episode 2 of a short story. Well, it’s short by my standards: I expect it to take only three or four episodes. Episode 1 is here. Read it if you haven’t and you feel like it, then come back. 

Don’t Do That! 2

Gavain groaned. He had, indeed, spanked Cassie without her permission. He said, “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I mean, truly: I apologize.”

“God, you’re fish in a barrel. I was teasing you. You’re easy. Truth?”

“Ok.”

“It was mildly pleasant. It’s not one of my turn-ons, particularly, but I didn’t hate it. How, um, I suppose I should ask, how was it for you?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, your ass always feels good to me.” She looked irritated, so he corrected course.

“I don’t know,” he said. “When I had the thought about my, uh, client, I mean, when it occurred to me to spank her, I had a kind of flash, like a vision of what it’d be like. It was hot as fuck. I went, full on, this-is-awkward, unwanted erection. In about five seconds. Took ages to get it down again.”

“Did she notice?”

“Oh yeah. She laughed at me. A lot.”

“Oh, poor you.”

“God no. I was relieved. Could have been much worse.”

“I suppose. Anyway, what’s that got to do with how hot it was to spank me? Or not?”

“Because when I imagined it she was really into it. That’s what made it so hot.”

“So my reaction was… disappointing?” Cassie didn’t look sorry.

“I wasn’t sure if you hadn’t noticed, or you were putting up with it, or it was sort of okay but nothing special. So that wasn’t so hot.”

“On behalf of all womanhood, I apologize for not being a porn star. You’ll just have to put up with real girls.”

“You got a porn star’s ass. Very superior ass.”

“Huh.” But she waggled her ass, just the same.

Don’t do that! 1

Cassie astride and above him, jockeying vehemently with her eyes closed, was focused on her orgasm. She had no notion that he, specifically, was there. Gavain, providing her fulcrum, knew she’d reached her point of no return.

He moved his hand down from her hip and smacked her bottom, experimentally. There was a small sound, a slap, but she didn’t open her eyes or change her rhythm. Gavain considered the sensation. His handful of her ass felt great, of course, but it always did, whether she was still or bouncing, whether his hand arrived hard or soft.

But did he get off on spanking her? Did it add an edge to the already excellent experience of having sex with Cassie? He smacked her again, on the other side, a little harder. Cassie still didn’t open her eyes, but she expelled her breathe, once, hard, through her nose, and lowered her body so her breasts touched his chest and his cock slipped further into her. She sped up, frantic for speed.

By way of encouragement he smacked her in time with her movements, until she arched her back, all muscles clenched, and made her orgasm noise, low and loud. It sounded to Gavain like an engine racing between gears. He thought that was her, her enjoyment celebrated lustily with no concern for whether she sounded beautiful. He’d got over loving her, after she’d left him. But he still loved that.            

He let her rest, happy, without coming himself because she knew she’d want more in a few minutes, and it’d take him about twenty minutes to half an hour to recover if he came. He kissed her forehead and her ear, and she opened her eyes. “Hello you.”

Gavain said, “Hey you.” He put his hand back on her left buttock where he’d smacked it. There was a tiny glow of warmth.

Cassie frowned. “Um. Gavain, that was new. New for you, anyway. Were you trying to spank me?”

Gavain felt himself blushing. “It was… sort of an experiment. Did you mind? Or did you like it?”

“Um. It was ok. I didn’t mind. I suppose I wondered how come. Have you got some new girl who likes that?”

“Er, not exactly. Or not at all. There’s a girl, and I found myself thinking it’s be a really good idea, and amazingly hot, if I spanked her. And it wouldn’t be a great idea. It’d be a really stupid, unethical, terrible idea. To do anything with her. But I don’t think I’ve ever thought that about someone before.”

“Ahhhh huh.” Cassie wriggled very slowly on his cock, still inside her, but down to half hard. “So. This girl’s a client, yes?”

“Ump. She is.”

“She has that honor, my lord. And she probably does need spanking. But I can see that you can’t. But what were you doing with me?”

“I, uh, haven’t spanked anyone. I wanted to see if I thought it was hot.”

“So you conducted experiments with my ass. Non-consensual experiments.”

Gavain said, “Um…”

Wicked Wednesday: Moral support

Sir’s cock was inside my mouth, but he wasn’t moving any more. His hands released my hair and stroked my head gently. At last he said, “Good girl, Maddie.”

I moved my lips along his shaft, and kissed the head, all velvet even when it was hard. He said, “Good girl,” again, so I was doing the right thing. “Suck me clean, girl.” I slid my tongue around his cock, to show I’d been reading, but mostly I used my lips. Eventually I nodded, mouth still on his cock, which wasn’t quite as hard as it had been.

He pulled out at last. He put his cock back into his underpants and zipped up his fly. “All right, little Maddie. You’ve been a very naughty, manipulative little brat, haven’t you?”

I should have been terrified, but he was smiling. I hung my head, pretending to be ashamed, and said, “Yes, Sir, I’ve been a very naughty and manipulative little brat. I bet I deserve… anything, Sir.”

“Ha. Well, I bet you deserve everything. But there’s plenty of time for that. Now, you heard me tell Lucy she’s going to get her first caning in this office at four o’clock.”

“Yes, Sir.” I was still on my knees.

“And you’re going to be here too. And I’ll either cane you both side by side, alternating strokes, or we’ll have it that you hold her down with her head between your thighs while I cane her, and then she holds you down. Lucy seemed to quite enjoy that. So did you, of course. Which would you prefer?”

“I don’t know, Sir. I suppose side by side. We could hold hands.”

He gave me the look that said, Maybe.

He wasn’t asking me what to do; he’d never do that. He was just getting my preference, for information. “Well, we’ll see. And after I’ve caned both of you, I’m going to take you home. To fuck you.”

“Oh yes, Sir.”

“You two seem to have become friends. I’m not going to fuck Lucy. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight is yours.”

“Yes, Sir. But I might like to have Lucy with me. She could watch me getting fucked?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. I suppose she could fetch things for us. Help out, do as she’s told, give you moral support. And yes, if she wanted she could be there when I fucked you. If that’s what you want. She’d have to want that too.”

I thought. In one way I wanted him all to myself. Especially tonight. But I was going to have exclusive use of his cock tonight, and that was the important thing. “This sounds weird, Sir, even to me. But yes, I’d like her to be with us.”

“All right. Then sound her out, without giving her too much information. Just to sat you’re getting special lessons, tonight. If she sounds positive about that, then you can see if she’s agreeable. But if you both want then she can come too. Except she won’t come. Well, not by my doing, anyway.”

“Does this mean, Sir, I can watch when you fuck her? Later?” I took it for granted that he would, not tonight but soon. It felt like forming a family, in a way. I felt that I was being warm and generous.

Though I wanted to hear Lucy’s orgasm cry. I really desired that.

I’d never felt anything for a girl before, but there was something about Lucy. I wanted to worship her body. And I wanted to cane her till she screamed, and to force her to lick my cunt while the tears ran down her face. It felt so strange wanting that. And it felt good knowing that it was now a real possibility.

Sir watched me, then nodded. He took a handful of my hair and pulled me to my feet. “Time you went to class, Maddie. I’ll give you a note saying you’re late because you’ve been caned. But…” He held out his hands, and I rushed forward, pressing my body against his. We cuddled, holding each other so tight. I kissed him, though my mouth still tasted of his come, to me, but he didn’t seem to mind.

At last he smacked my bottom. “Put your clothes on now, girl. And go to class. You’ll talk to Lucy at lunch. And you’ll see me after school. Now: Go!”

 

Wicked Wednesday: The joy of being used

Sir pushed his cock into my mouth and put his hands on the back of my head, grabbing a handful of my hair in each hand so I couldn’t move my head back. I’d been reading up on techniques for driving a man crazy while I’m sucking his cock, but Sir wasn’t interested in me being clever.

His cock pushed into my mouth and into my throat, iron and insistent. He held me still while his hips pumped, driving into my mouth, into my throat. I’d read about this: he was fucking my throat, hard, for his own pleasure.

I felt utterly helpless, used, my mouth battered. It seemed to go well with the burning cane stripes across my bottom. I was still naked. He could see my stripes when he pulled me forward. The thought that I didn’t matter except to give him pleasure was so hot.

I gagged sometimes, when he went as deep as he could, cock down into my throat, but I couldn’t feel anything but the hotness of what he was doing to me.

I wasn’t doing anything: I was being done to, being fucked in the mouth. I liked that feeling. It said that I was his and it seemed so right.

It was only later that I realised that when I gagged he’d carry on pumping his cock into me, like a piston, for a few more strokes while I gasped for air.

But then he’d take his cock out a little further to let me catch my breath, and though he’d push back into my throat as deeply as ever, he’d be slower for one or two strokes before going back to his usual speed.

At last he smacked my face, once, twice, hard enough to echo in the room, and I felt his stomach muscles harden. Then his cock moved in me faster than I’d thought possible, and with one more smack – I was sure my right cheek must be as red as my bottom, or Lucy’s – he spurted a great gush of his come into me.

I swallowed as fast as I could because I already knew that’s what good girls do. He growled like an animal, and I was exhilarated by how happy and content with me he sounded.

His cock was still hard in my mouth, but no longer moving. His hands released my hair and stroked my head gently.

His cock felt so heavy in my mouth now he’d relaxed a bit. So fat, and happy. At last he whispered, “Good girl, Maddie. My good girl.”

 

A good man, with a belt 9 (final!)

I got up and checked my back in the mirror. It did look dramatic. More importantly, I couldn’t tell Fliss’s scratches from the ones Maureen had inflicted.

“It’s all right, love, I didn’t even feel it. Hot blood, and all. And it doesn’t hurt now, either.” This was true. “And you can get as carried away as you like.” I got back in bed, and kissed her. “My fiery little slut.”

Fliss smiled now, rather proud of herself. “Fiery little slut. Yes, I suppose.”

She looked over my shoulder. She said, “Can I see?”

I rolled onto my stomach, and let Fliss run her fingertips gently over her and Maureen’s handwork. “Wow,” she said again. “I have been a bad girl.”

I said, “Oh. Not really. I mean … ” And there was nothing further that I could say about that.

“Haven’t I?”

My belt was still in bed with us where I’d dropped it, when I pulled her mouth off my cock and hauled her forward, to get her cunt against my mouth. Usually I spanked her with it when she was sucking me, but this time I hadn’t. Dominance requires a certain purity of self-belief, which I had not felt, for very sound reasons.

Still, what Fliss knew was that she had not been spanked. It had been a good fuck, but it had been an egg without salt.

So I picked up the belt, and the powers, rights and duties that it implies. “Well. Now you mention it…” And Fliss slid over my lap, hard little bottom arched in mock-repentance and sexual greed.

“Yes,” I said. “You have been a very bad girl.”


The end.

A good man, with a belt 8

 

Note

This is the near the end of this story. If you missed earlier episodes, the jist is that I had girl-scratches all over my back that my current girlfriend, the extremely assertive submissive Fliss, hadn’t put there.

She was likely to resent these when she became aware of them. I’d managed to start having sex with her without her noticing them, but I expected exposure as a Bad Boyfriend at any second. 

Now Read On

So Fliss, eyes closed, had squirmed her way deliciously down to her mammal brain. I liked that state myself when fucking. I tend to go bear-like when she goes there, carnivorous and very grunty, and not at all analytical. But I couldn’t go that way this time. I had too much to think about.

And then I smiled down at Fliss, kissed her, which she accepted, purring pleasurably, but without opening her eyes. And I brought my hands in under her back, made the best claws I could with my blunt nails, and dragged them down her back, scratching as hard as I could.

Fliss’s eyes opened wide. She grunted, “Ubf!”, tightened her thighs on mine and let fly with her nails, scrabbling and flaying at my back while she writhed determinedly beneath me. She continued shredding, my excited minx, until I felt she’d done enough.

I grabbed her hands and held them together over her head, trapped in one hand of mine, and increased our speed. And Fliss made the noise she made when she was going to come, a sort of gurgling, close to laughter but more musical, that rose and fell in cascades and made me think of fountains, and aspens.

And she came and I came, and afterwards I accepted loving words that I didn’t entirely deserve, and gave loving words that she did deserve. And later still we lay side by side, on our backs, legs and arms twined, well pleased with each other.

Eventually I got up to get us both water and wine. There was a slight gasp as I walked, naked, out of the bedroom. When I returned Fliss took her drink, and then looked contrite.

“Jesus, Jaime, your back’s a mess. Wow. Sorry. I didn’t realise I’d got so carried away.”

A good man, with a belt 7

Once I’d hauled off Fliss’s jeans and panties, and smacked her bottom because it was too adorable not to (could this be the last time, I wondered?) I lay back against a stack of pillows like a pasha, took my belt off and kept it in my hand.

Dab dab dab, dib dib dib

Fliss got up on her knees, leaned forward, and extracted my cock with her hand, and began dabbing at it head with her pink little tongue.

I was aware that I wasn’t being a good boyfriend at that moment. But Fliss didn’t know that, so she was happily serving.

I wasn’t quite comfortable, ethically, but my cock wasn’t interested in that kind of issue. Fliss was smaller, more compact than Maureen, slender, with small breasts and a little hard arse like a pair of apples. Cock, once it’s excited and being pleasured, has as much conscience as cunt, or, for that matter, as a brick.

After a time Fliss stopped playing, and took me deep in her mouth. And I held her head with the hand that held the belt, and she started to mouthfuck me, rather fiercely, while I held her head. I let the belt press against her face so she could feel the leather and imagine she would be punished if she didn’t serve me properly.

Usually I would smack the belt down her back, letting it impact and curl around her arse, usually not hard enough to hurt, but with occasional harder lashes, while she sucked my cock. But on that occasion I didn’t quite feel that I had the moral authority. She went unleathered. 

But I was in danger of coming, and I wasn’t sure what my recovery time would be like, after having already come in Maureen that evening. So I hauled Fliss off my cock, and pulled her up the bed and forward until her cunt was pressed down against my mouth.

I dropped the belt to get both hands on her buttocks, holding her against me while she leaned forward to rest her face and arms against the wall. Fliss tasted of cinnamon, for some reason, also soap and faint urine tangs, but her basic cunt taste was bland, a little sweet and salty.

The was also a faint hazelnut taste. Fliss’s older sister made oils and unguents as a sort of household industry for her and her kids, and it was probably some sort of hippie-ish health thing. Anyway I liked her tastes, and worked at her cunt until Fliss was squirming and squeaking and demanding to be let down.

Eventually I released her, and she scrambled down to drag my pants off, while I pulled my shirt off over my head, keeping my back and its collection of Maureen’s clawtrails against the pillows.

So we were both naked, and I held Fliss’s hands while she straddled me and lowered herself, very quick and greedy, onto my cock. Usually there was a long, slow section at the beginning of our fucks, but we skipped that. The thought occured to me, pounding up into her, watching her little tits bounce, that it was probably a good thing that I’d already come in Maureen, because otherwise I wouldn’t have lasted long. Though I didn’t expect that I could introduce that as any sort of argument.

Anyway, after a while I pulled Fliss down against me, and rolled us over so she was on her back and I was on top of her, holding her, slowly pumping in her sweet wet cunt, while she held her breath and spread for me. The scratches on my back were in the open air, though Fliss couldn’t see them. 

And it was in that moment, staring down at Fliss, her eyes closed, intently working on her pleasure and utterly carried away with getting fucked, that I realised that there was a way out. I might just get away with this.

A good man, with a belt 6

So, home alone, with a few minutes to spare before Fliss arrived, I dropped my blood streaked shirt in a bucket, with oxygen bleach. It was safe there. My older brothers had had girlfriends who would come round and do their washing for them, but somehow those didn’t seem to be the women I was interested in. Unless they were doing it for pervy sexual reasons.

 Certainly Fliss was not a woman to show any interest in doing my laundry, so there was no chance my bloody and incriminating shirt would be discovered. I took a shower. Afterwards I checked the mirror, hoping that the clawmarks Maureen had left on my back would have faded. But though I could see that they had stopped bleeding, they were still raw and very bright. There was no way of disguising them.

Werewolves: no market these days She wouldn’t believe vampires, either

It occurred to me that I could come up with a story about how I’d acquired my wounds while saving a sad-eyed little child from an enraged grizzly bear. Except that the nearest grizzly was thousands of miles away. And I didn’t think she’d buy werewolves.

Maybe I’d fallen asleep in long grass and someone had run a lawnmower over my back. Maybe I’d run backwards through a thorn bush, though I couldn’t think of any reason why I might do that.

Maybe I’d been juggling cats, and had flubbed the triple-tabby behind the back parabola, so they’d taken their hissing, screeching revenge.

Maybe I could just explain that Maureen had been nostalgic, horny and very fuckable.

I considered this again, and came to the same conclusion I’d reached when I’d been riding home: there’d be unhappiness all over the place, and we’d possibly break-up. I knew I was in the wrong, and I might deserve bad things, but these weren’t remotely good outcomes. I heard Fliss’s car outside. I put on a fresh shirt and pants and went out to meet her.

Not usually a strategic mistake.

She slipped her hands inside my shirt to embrace me, which made me wonder if the gouges would be noticeable to the touch. The best defence was distraction, so I put my own hands inside her jeans, and lifted her up. Fliss wrapped her legs round my waist. I realised I’d made a slight strategic mistake.

We were in the beginning of twilight, and I had thought I’d be better off if I gave her a glass of wine and we talked about our day, and so on, so that it would be dark when we took our clothes off. We’d still turn the light on, during or afterwards, and there I’d be. But at least it would have delayed things and I could have thought of something.

Instead I had Fliss wrapped round my waist, rubbing herself against my cock and riding me cowgirl, and under those conditions, pilgrim, there is only one direction you can go.

So I took her to my bedroom, held her high while she laughed and licked my nose, and dropped her onto the bed. As I’d done with Maureen not two hours earlier. I pulled the curtains, explaining that I’d seen the old woman who lived next door out in her backyard. There was still too much light. Then I joined Fliss on the bed, and we kissed and rolled around, over and over each other, rubbing our faces into each other while I took her clothes off. 

But not mine.

So far so good

It wasn’t so odd that I pulled Fliss’s shirt off without undressing myslf, because she liked to kneel, naked, take my cock into her mouth and pleasure me while I was still clothed.

It helped her to move herself from her outside world persona into her bedroom self, to feel that she was serving and submitting. It was how I’d first suspected – something neither of us had known before – that Fliss was submissive.

But being submissive didn’t matter. When there was hell to pay, she could raise hell.