Wicked Wednesday: The shoplifter’s mother 3

Claire was sobbing, overcome by guilt because her husband had abandoned her and her daughter. I got up, and walked over to take her hand. “Claire. Mrs O’Donnell, I doubt very much that you did anything wrong. He walked out on his family. He found a new, more gullible woman. Or he just ran away from his responsibilities. Please know this: it isn’t your fault.”

“But it is! I fucked– I fucked– His friend. I was lonely. I just wanted to be touched, and held. I wanted, well, a man. And he found out about it! Of course he disappeared!”

I took a guess. “But … hadn’t he already left you, when that happened?”

“Yes, of course. But I shouldn’t have! I ruined everything.”

“Claire. If he left you, he has no say on your life. That includes whether you have sex, and who you have sex with. He had no say in that at all. And if he disappeared when he found out you were having sex, that’s absolutely not your fault. It’s not your doing at all”

Claire shook her head. She was still sobbing. “Yes, he’d left me. But he disappeared completely when he found out!”

“Claire, he might have used it as an excuse, but he went missing because he didn’t care enough about his daughter. Or about his other responsibilities. One sexual incident, I mean one fuck, doesn’t cancel that out.”

Though she shook with emotion, she spoke firmly. “I ruined my daughter’s relationship with her father. I ruined everything. She was doing these stupid things because she was upset. She loved her Daddy. I deserve that public caning more than she does.”

“No. She might be upset, but that’s not a license to steal. I’m sorry, but if we find she shoplifted, we’ll cane her. That’s decided. Not you.”

“I was thoughtless.”

“Claire, you were lonely. You’re human.”

“You should punish me.”

“I’m sorry, but if Tara shoplifted she’ll have to pay for that, and she will. You have done nothing wrong. At all. You’re absolutely not at fault, and I’m not going to punish you.”

Claire sniffed, loudly. When she looked up at me, her face streamed with tears.

“Please.”

Masturbation Monday: Masturbation, on a Monday 2

Ngaire’s fingers touched the grooves between her plump labial lips and her inner thighs, and she gasped. 

She said, spitting out the words in short bursts as she squeezed her lips, lightly hen hard, with her fingers and thumbs. “Tell me. About fucking me. Up the arse.” 

She pressed one finger between her lips, now soft and puffy, and pressed downwards. Inwards. Freddie said, “Uh.” He was reacting to her actions, or trying to think of a story.

Ngaire didn’t care which. She put a second finger into her cunt, her two middle fingers, and let them enter all the way. Her palm pressed hard against her cunt. Freddie said, “I walk into your room. You look like you’re asleep. On your stomach. Your ass is up. You are so beautiful. I smack your ass lightly, because I can’t not, and anyway I know you’re only pretending to be asleep.” 

The fingers inside her hooked, to press upwards at spongy skin. She’d once fucked a doctor, who’d told her that spongelike skin was called the anterior vaginal wall. 

It had seemed incongruous; such a technical name for something so live and blooming. She grunted, raising her arse slightly from the bed. Still, men who know words like “anterior vaginal wall” make better lovers. Probably. She wanted to ask Freddie if he knew. But she couldn’t form or speak the necessary words now. 

“I take lube, that lube right there in fact, from beside your bed, and I pour some into the cleft of your ass, so it starts to run down to your little opening. I press my hand against your cunt while you feel the lube running down, and the first drops find your asshole, and gather there. It feels so innocent, but you know it’s to make it easier for you to take my cock.”  

The words reached her. She imagined that, that first entry, not by him but by oil. He probably wouldn’t guess she hadn’t had a cock in her arse before. She’d have to tell him. He’d be all blokey and proud about it, which would be annoying, but he needed to know: “be gentle with me!” She felt the muscles in her legs tautening, and she pressed her palm harder against her sweet, god, so alive, clitoris. She fucked herself harder and faster with her fingers. 

“I lube my forefinger so it’s nice and slippery, and then I slip it into your ass. You’re so tight, and I love thinking about how you’ll feel, those muscles round my cock. We’ll fit so well, my honey, beautiful Ngaire, you on your hands and knees, me covering you, my cock sliding slowly into your asshole.”

Ngaire grunted. Her mouth had opened, though she couldn’t speak, and she felt her stomach muscles tighten. Something was building. Inside her. She brought in her left hand, to rub against her clitoris while her right hand finger-fucked herself. She felt herself slowly fall back to the bed.  

“But you admit me easily, no qualm, no pain, all the way to the first knuckle. Then I press deeper, to the second knuckle. I move my finger inside you, to let you strip lube off it, and slowly withdraw. I put more lube onto my fingers. And I lean down and kiss your sweet ass. I can’t help that, any more than I can help smacking it. Then you feel two fingers at your entrance, slowly pressing, and you suddenly give, you give yourself to me, letting me in. And -“

But Ngaire had rediscovered the power of speech. She said, “Jofff! Ah! Fuuuuck! Fuck! Fuck me!” And that power that had been building inside her burst, from somewhere between her belly and the small of her back. A wave of pleasure and power took her. Shook her. Her face and throat in rictus. She screamed. Oh fuck.

She didn’t stop working at herself, her cunt. She screamed again. And then, a few frantic seconds later, again. She looked up at last, almost embarrassed, to see what Freddie thought.

He was still in his seat, but leaning forward. His face seemed fierce and gentle, at once. He’d been moved. Then he came forward, onto the bed, his body between her thighs, now fallen, spread and relaxed. He kissed her cunt. As though he was in love with it. He babbled, “Good girl, good girl, good girl, oh good girl…”  

Ngaire put her hand, smeared and wet with her own fluids, on the back of his head. 

E(lust) 117, on the way to heaven

Photo courtesy of Master’s Eye

Welcome to Elust 117

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 #118? Start with the rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A dominant presence

He Gripped Her Hand and Centered Her

Being alone together.

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

What the fig?

Mind and body

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

O! or, errr… NO!: Orgasm Control in an F/m Dynamic

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Fantasies Never Let You Down
My First Love
New Fun with Old Friends
Sometimes coming joint second
emotional disconnection, sex and loneliness
People Don’t Talk about This Sh!t

Erotic Fiction

Waking the Fallen
Daisy
opera seria
Catch the Catcher
Club Dress Extended
Dreams … (the Second : Arabian Nights)
The orgasmic arch

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Five Senses of Sex
A public beating
Rope Dreams

Poetry

-01.04.19_00:22-

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Primal Regression and Submission
14 Qualities of a “Good” Dominant
Balance in F/m voices

Events

Do I want you to hold my hand?

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Sex in Class
That’s My Kink – All Hail The Nipple Clit

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Why I’m not smiling for IWD

Elust

Wicked Wednesday: With a breadknife?

Jennifer had just responded to my warning on language by asking me to fuck her up the arse. It hadn’t been an entirely ladylike way to speak. Heartfelt, though.

I couldn’t help laughing, though she’d also shocked me. “May as well get the strap for a sheep as for a lamb, huh? All right, you’re coming here, not tomorrow but the next day, and you’re going to get the strap hard across your hands, and your bottom.”  

“Thank you, sir.”

“My god. I had no idea you were such a handful. And yes, Jennifer, I would love to teach you to… suck my cock. Among other things. Many other things. But how about we wait a bit, girl? Get to know each other better. And then we’ll decide, all right?”

“I’ve decided, sir. I’m not going to change my mind. I know what I want.”

“All right. You’re coming here to get the strap, after school in two days’ time. You will bring with you an essay on today’s punishment. Think of it as creative writing, but you have to tell the truth. I expect two thousand words. You’ve got two days.” I smacked her bottom again, and then kissed her pouting mouth.

She kissed me back. “I just wish you’d…” But she decided she was in enough trouble.

“We’ll see, Jennifer. To have any chance, you’d best be a good girl. Well, for a while. As much as you can.” Her face fell. “I’m sorry. I was teasing you. You are a very good girl, and I know you try hard.”

“You’re giving me the strap, just for saying I want you.” I smacked her bottom again, but she added, “Want you in me, nice and slow, sir. Then hard and rough and fast.”

“Jennifer, sometimes your steak of mischief will get you into trouble. Another time I might cane you for saying something like that.” She nodded, wide-eyed. “But don’t ever think I don’t like your cheekiness. It’s part of you: I’ll punish you when you go too far, but I’d never want you to lose your mischief. I think it’s very charming.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“That said, your strapping is going to include four across the backs of your thighs, now.” 

“I must be what they call blissed out, sir. I’m sure I’ll be scared when I come to you, to get the strap. But right now, in your arms, sir, everything just feels lovely. You could say you’re going to saw my arm off with a breadknife, and I’d think, oh, that sounds nice.”

I smacked her again, and kissed her. But it was a goodbye kiss. “Off with you, girl. You can get dressed now. And remember, you’ve got two days to write a two-thousand word essay, so you’d best get started as soon as you get home.”

“Can I include this discussion, sir? And what I’m feeling now?”

“Whatever you like. I’ll be marking it for clear, grammatically correct writing. You get points for style. I punish for typos, grammatical errors, and untruth. So… get writing!”

“Sir!” That was an acknowledgement of the order, not the beginning of fresh mischief. She almost fell, getting off my knee, and Maddie darted forward to steady her and lead her over to the clothes rack. 

Two minutes later Jennifer was gone. Maddie looked at me questioningly.

Wicked Wednesday: So do you

Jennifer said nothing, but she raised her bottom further for me. She wanted more stroking and soothing, but more than that as well. Her thighs were as far apart as she could manage, her pussy wet and undeniably wanting.

She’d been close to orgasm for most of her punishment, and though those six last strokes had been challenging they hadn’t overridden the sex, the need of it. So I coated and rubbed her bottom, not gently but firmly, and she gave herself into my hands, sometimes sighing with the sensations she was processing.

At last I touched her pussy again, thumb inside a wet, sopping girl, and my palm against her clitoris. It took her a minute to find her place, where she’d been before the last six strokes, and another thirty seconds of writhing on my hand before she stopped suddenly. I said, “Jennifer, it’s all right, you can come now.”

Her scream was louder than the loudest noise she’d made while being punished. I kept working my thumb and palm. In another minute she came again, at the same intensity. Then her head dropped, hitting the table audibly.

I kept on stroking her, but she was done for now, and exhausted. I let her lie across my desk for a minute, then patted her bottom. Jennifer was extremely sensitive, after eighteen of the best with the slipper, but she was unable to feel any touch as pain. Everything, it seemed, was dreamily erotic.

I said, “Jennifer, I’m going to pick you up. So I have to roll you over.” That was to let her know what I was doing. She was incapable of helping, for the time being. So I rolled her onto her back, and put my arms under her shoulders and the backs of her thighs, and lifted.

I carried her to the leather arm chair and sat down, holding her cradled in my arms. She looked at me with a slight smile, so I kissed her. I hadn’t expected her to respond but she did, not urgently but lovingly. I said, “Maddie, bring a blanket.”

Maddie nodded and opened the door into the storeroom. While she was gone I looked down at Jennifer, naked, dreamy, and beautiful in my arms. “How’s your bottom?”

She pulled a face and then smiled. “It’s weird. I know it’s sore, and very hot. But it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the slippering you gave me yesterday. In fact I’m not even sure that it hurt at all. It’s warm. And it sort of buzzes. But it’s like it’s got a hotline to my cunt. Oh! I shouldn’t say that word! Sorry, sir.”

I smiled. “I don’t think you’ve got room for any more smacks just at the moment. But use language like that again, and I’ll punish you.”

“Can I say pussy? Because I stroke it sometimes.” She looked at me, suddenly pretending to be shy. “And so do you.”

Sinful Sunday: A severe lesson, but not the right one

Six, thank you, Master!

Now! Girl, I am sick of these last-minute panics! Are you going to get your next essay in on time?

Well, maybe, Master. I can only see what happens… 

Ah fuck! You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? 

Mmmm maybe a bit…

All right. [Picks up cane again.] I think we can fix that. Don’t move. 

[But pleasure persists, the way grass can break concrete. He tried, but he didn’t fix that. Not at all.]

E[lust] 115: Hot reads! From the warm, pink heart of the net!

Elust 115 Header Image of Kaetteroo in a steamy mirror nude

Photo courtesy of Katteroo

Welcome to Elust 115

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 #116? Start with the rules, come back March 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Your Loss

Ask for It

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Two Explorers

Sweet Child of Mine

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

{Na}Scent Traces

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Long Shadow
Asleep on the job
Self-care: am I dating myself?
Love, Lust & Living with the Man of my Dreams

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Space Between
Australia Day Bukakke
In Her Panties
Sensuality and the senses
Happy New Year
Technical Sex: Control
Give and take

Erotic Fiction

Brat
Worth the Trouble
Panty Thief
Twisted Fairy Tale #4 Hans & Greta
PJ’s Horseshoe
I Lay Beside You

Poetry

The Rider

Body Talk and Sexual Health

What is normal?
Less Sex, Less Drive

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Not Micromanaging My Pleasure
The bdsm baby blues
Meeting a sub… or not

Writing About Writing

5 Things to Do When You Feel Overwhelmed

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

UK law removes anti-bdsm rules

Elust

Elust 114! Collected works of hotness!

Elust 114 Headr image Rebels Notes naked bottom
Photo courtesy of Rebel’s Notes

Welcome to Elust 114

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 #115? Start with the rules, come back February1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

The Painful Truth…

As Wet As I Get

Three, in the end

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Pachelbel

Window

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

FemDom {T}ropes

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Mx Nillin Fucks… Socks!
Knight Attire
Seven years of comments
Erotic Massage

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Gifts?
Our Dynamic
Switch!
Collar me kinky

Erotic Fiction

Marking Time
Coffee-shops and painsluts
The Storm
This belongs to me
Backstage Girl
floral

Writing About Writing

Smut Marathon ~ My Journey
3 Downloadable Tools to Track Your Income

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

#SoSS – Sharing Taboo Topics!

Blogging

End of Year Round Up
Caring too much about the wrong thing.

Erotic Non-Fiction

On Fucking and Being Fucked
Vignette – Pictures of Us
Lunch with a caned girl

 

 

 

Elust

Masturbation Monday: Going easy

Sometimes Emily, who’d been caned hard, two nights in a row, moved against me in a way that usually meant she wanted sex. Sometimes my cock was hard, pressed against her belly. But long after midnight she turned on her side and slept with her back to me. I curled up behind her, careful not to touch her bottom, and slept too. I’d forgiven her ages ago. I knew she’d forgiven me.

I’d promised her a third caning, and I delivered it. But this time I gave her less pain and more ceremony.

I tied her to the bed, but when her caning began I made sure the strokes were a little lighter than they had been for her first two punishments. I’d lost the feeling of righteousness that had powered her first two canings.

Afterwards, Emily knew that I’d gone easy on her. She was grateful in a way, but also disappointed.

So I stroked her until she wept and squeaked, expecting to be stroked to orgasm, and then stopped and warned her not to come. I left her on the edge, and still tied fast across the bed. She could assure herself that this was punishment.

I sat with a book, where I could watch her and she couldn’t watch me. If you tie your partner, you stay and watch, for their safety. Anyway, watching Emily was no hardship. It was starting to feel real. Emily really had given herself to me, as a possession, an owned woman, who was accountable to me.

I thought, while trying to read, about our future. We couldn’t just spend all our time with Emily being tied to our bed. Or me spanking and caning her. I’d have to find other ways of letting her feel herself owned and submissive, while giving us room and time to get on with our lives and careers.  I had no idea how to achieve this. Was there a submissive way of watching a movie? Or doing the dishes? Was there a dominant way? I didn’t know.

I shut the book and joined Emily on the bed, and used a buzzy thing to help her to pick up the threads of that dropped, stopped, orgasm. Then I undid her bonds and fucked her again. Emily came again, clamorously, and she was giggly talkative afterwards.

But I fell asleep, most of my weight on her back .Emily woke me an hour or so later, in ghostly night, asking me to move so she could get to the toilet. She came straight back. After all, she no longer smoked.

{The end]