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!”

 

Maddie, consent, and throat-fucking

In the last episode of the Maddie saga the Wicked Headmaster character throat-fucked Maddie.

Oddly, that’s not a thing of mine, really. I do it if a submissive has told to me that that’s a turn-on for her. I don’t like to have to think of my cock as a choke hazard. 

Drop this, and it won’t break. Fact!

When I do want to deliver my best hard, fast and ruthless fuck, I prefer to be doing penis-in-vagina sex, because cunts are tough and evolved to take some fairly rough treatment. Much more so than the throat or the anus. I love having my cock sucked, and I’m charmed when a woman wants to show me clever things she can do. So I prefer having my cock sucked where my partner has some freedom of action. I also love anal sex, but there’s a definite limit to how rough you can be. 

So I didn’t want to write some throat-fucking erotica because that’s one of my key turn-ons. It came out of the characters. The Headmaster character was extremely turned on and wanted to come, quickly. That’s the reason that Maddie’s aware of, and she liked that sense of being used by him for his pleasure. 

I think that he also had a sense that Maddie would like that sensation of being helplessly taken. That’s already part of the vibe between them, so he stepped outside real-world bdsm rules but not the feelings and desires both characters have.

There’s a sense of care there, even when he’s apparently using her as a masturbation device. The way he pulls out after she gags and gives her time to catch her breath is a hint towards that. Though he doesn’t stop till a little bit after she gags, so she never has that unwelcome feeling that she’s in control.

So in their universe (which is absolutely not ours) he’s doing the right thing. There’s a kind of unspoken understanding between him and Maddie, and he keeps his end of the bargain.

I have a fairly 3-D sense of who Maddie is. She’s being very sexual and sexually driven, but she feels like a real person, to me. Partly because she’s based on real people, one in particular, who told me about acquiring an older Master when she was about Maddie’s age. (He wasn’t her Headmaster, though. No laws were broken, even in our world.) 

The headmaster at home, alone. relaxing In casual dress. Don’t panic!

The person who’s closer to a fantasy figure, I think, is her Headmaster, who has no doubts, is always sexy, and miraculously always knows just how cruel to be, in order to be kind.

Obviously, relying on “the vibe between us” wouldn’t be enough of a precaution, or enough consent, in the real world. I don’t think, in the real world, you get any points for introducing some new and challenging bdsm practice, and yelling, “Surprise!”

But fiction is a different thing. Characters can act on extreme emotional needs (as well as sexual needs) and we can enjoy their stories.

But we’re in our universe, which has all sorts of potential consequences, and they’re in their universe, which has fewer.

So long as we can tell their world from ours (and don’t do things like believing the Transformers movies are documentaries), I’m prepared, as Maddie’s narrator, to give them their heads and let them go where they like.

They just worry me sometimes, that’s all.

 

BTW: This post started as a response to a comment by Indigo Bird, here. Thanks for your comment! Indigo’s excellent blog on Art, Sexuality and Death, in later life, is here.

Sinful Sunday: Women and swans

This is going to be a series, about the weird sexual mythology surrounding swans and humans. There’s the swans in Swan Lake, who finally take on human female form. 

But the most famous shape-shifting swans are male. They include Zeus, with Leda, and Gottfried, brother of Elsa von Brabant, who in swan form carries Lohengrin, knight of the Grail, from Montsalvat in Northern Spain to one of the rivers that passes through Brabant in what is now Belgium. (Frankreich, back then.) That’s an epic journey for a river-based creature, and someone should write an opera about it. 

One interesting thing about swans is that they have penises, unlike most birds.

Anyway, with the help of my lovely model, and Amazing Special Effects, my Sinful Sundays are going to be taken up for a while with stories and poems about the whole human-swan connection.

 

Take it away, Mr Yeats!

A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
                    Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Maddie, consent and roller coasters

In the last episode of Maddie’s story, she expects and is keen to give a blow-job, and finds herself throat-fucked hard instead.

I had my doubts about writing it that way, because our Headmaster character hadn’t given warning, let alone asked for consent: “Now, girl, are you up for a nice hard throat-fucking?”

And leaving the action waiting while she considers her right to say, “No way, buster! I’m a fictional girl and I absolutely do not do that sort of thing.” Or, “Yes, please!”

But I decided not to include discussion between them on those lines because:

(1) it’s erotica. It’s meant to be sexy, and not necessarily to provide sensible, followable role models; 

(2) it’s understood by both of them that Maddie wants to learn and experience bdsm things, and in that sense she’s already shown her enthusiastic consent to anything short of damage/harm he does; and

(3) both characters, as well as most readers, would find it hotter with the consent conversation left out. 

 

The story itself is utterly implausible, in the sense that it couldn’t happen. No teacher could do that, even to willing age-of-consent girls, without getting caught. He’d be in court and in the front pages of newspapers in no time, and then he’d be in prison. Also, the only part of the world I know of where girls of 18 are subject to corporal punishment, which can be delivered by a male, is Texas.

And probably Alabama, come to think of it, though I’m not going to look it up in case I see a photo of Roy Moore. He brings me out in technicolour yawns, that hagfish. (Look them up.) Not even the Islamic states are as fucked up as some States in the good old US of A, y’all. 

Anyway, the way I see it is that the story takes place in a sort of alternate universe, one more ruled by sexual desire than ours is. Think of it as science fiction. 

 

That said, I think Maddie is perfectly psychologically plausible in our universe. She’s based on women I know, and things they’ve told me about their early bdsm experience. And shown me. (Those experiences didn’t involve headmasters, I should say.)

Maddie is excited by her submissive experiences because they’re coming at her like the loop the loops and hairpin turns of a roller coaster.

She hasn’t consented to each individual turn and loop, but she consented to getting on the roller coaster (she bought a ticket, even), and she’s on for the ride, letting it go where it wants: wheeeee!

Maddie’s a person, though she’s just a fictional one, and she is making choices.

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.”

 

Defending the politics of bdsm 2: Bdsm and the state

The puritan feminist argument against bdsm includes the claim that bdsm works as part of the support for patriarchy, or male control of institutions and, of course, women.

Patriarchy in action? It doesn’t really look like it

The puritan case is partly based on the claim that bdsm is men dominating women. To make this claim you have to ignore the existence of lesbians and gays, and women dominants and male submissives. You also have to ignore the fact that we now know that the majority of both men and women involved in bdsm are switches, and will take either the dominant or submissive role according to mood and desire.

Some in the puritanical faction are aware of this, and try to wish it away by waving a sort of verbal wand at it: any “eroticising of power differences” supports patriarchy because, well, because.

One way of testing this is to look at what actually happens in most Western states.

We see that the institutions that do most to promote patriarchy and the subordination of women get encouragement from the state in every English-language-speaking country in the world, as well as most of the non-English-speaking Western states.

The Catholic and Baptist churches in particular, with their long-standing and still current opposition to having women in leadership roles, and opposition to women having control of their own bodies, particularly in relation to reproduction, get extensive funding from the state. That funding comes in the form of direct grants, in the form of tax-free status, in the form of (usually historical) gifts of land, and in the form of favored status when it comes to bidding to provide Government services. 

Church naming rights and livery; 100% tax-payer funding

Something that’s not understood by most people is that when Catholic spokespeople talk about providing hospitals the Catholic Church doesn’t provide those services with its own money. Those institutions are 100% funded from government health spending, even though they don’t offer all the services (eg abortion, and contraceptive information) that a publicly funded hospital should be offering.

In many countries the churches have special dispensation overriding laws relating to discriminating against people based on their religious belief or sexual orientation, particularly in employment. 

The point is that this is an example of how governments in the West endorse and support organisations that promote patriarchal power. That’s nothing like how governments treat bdsm, and people who take part in bdsm.

Bdsm erotica, the stories we tell and the media we tell them in, is banned in many jurisdictions. Bdsm clubs and premises are frequently raided. Consenting bdsm is still a crime in many countries, most notoriously the UK. People have gone to jail for practising consensual bdsm, and others have lost custody of their children. 

A bdsm master or mistress’s authority is never backed by the power of the state. I’m not arguing that it should be (of course it shouldn’t); I’m making the point that governments support and endorse institutions that help uphold male power and control, and they don’t support bdsm that way.

If bdsm really were a part of the ideological support for patriarchy, it’s puzzling that institutions upholding patriarchy, like police services and other law enforcement agencies, the judiciary, the mainstream media, the churches and so on, all seem to be unaware of the fact.

Instead bdsm practitioners, media and organisations (eg clubs) come under surveillance, police harassment, mainstream media shaming, and direct legal bans. 

Bdsm does not promote male dominance (generally, though a few Goreans and domestic-discipline Christians may), and it is certainly not an ally of patriarchy. We like our dominance consensual and our dominants to be sexy. 

Defending the politics of bdsm: power at the mercy of pleasure

Inequality in bdsm works very differently from the real power imbalances imposed by patriarchy. In bdsm, people choose their roles according to their own sexual desires, not their gender. A woman or man doing bdsm may choose a dominant or submissive role, or switch from one to the other, purely according to what pleases them. In bdsm “power” is erotic and fluid.

We are powerful guys, and we are Serious

The arbitrariness of “power” in bdsm contrasts with the seriousness with which power is held in patriarchy. By turning the symbols and even the idea of power into sexual playthings that may be taken seriously but may also be picked up, swapped or put down at whim, there’s a sense in which bdsm mocks and undermines real power.

Bdsm’s mild subversiveness is reinforced by the paradox of how power relationships work in bdsm.

The person who holds the outward signs of power, in bdsm, is not so powerful in reality.

The submissive holds the chain

A dominant may wear lots of black, carry a riding crop and snap out orders, but he or she is still subject to the submissive’s power. In the orders they give, the bonds they arrange and the services they demand, dominants must remain within a range defined and consented to by the submissive.

If the dominant goes far or repeatedly outside that circle of consent, the submissive is likely to end the dominant’s illusory power without notice.

People sometimes use the term “power exchange” to describe bdsm relationships, but not as much power really changes hands as may appear on the surface. Whether they are male or female, submissives retain more power than they and their dominants pretend.

Similarly, the economics of bdsm relationships differ from those of traditional marriage. In traditional relationships the person with the higher income holds more power, and that person is still likely to be a man. In bdsm the dominant partner is not necessarily a man, nor the person with the higher income. In bdsm, “power” is never what it seems on the surface. It does not follow gender. Nor does it follow money.

It follows desire. It follows love and lust.

Wicked Wednesday: Will Sir cane us together?

Sir looked at me, dancing about clutching my arse. He looked concerned for a second, Then he smiled, though that was gone before Lucy saw it. He understood. And I was sure he wanted Lucy to undress for him so he could cane her. 

I think both of us hoped he’d cane us together

I don’t understand why I wasn’t jealous of Lucy. But what she had from him wouldn’t take anything from me. They’d both have a wonderful time, and I liked both of them – maybe I loved Sir a little, or a lot – and I wanted them both to be happy.

Somehow I was sure that I’d still be Sir’s Number One. And maybe he’d let me play with Lucy too, while he was punishing her. Or he could cane both of us at once: all of that was up to him.

“Maddie girl, stop making an exhibition of yourself.” He sounded furious, but I wasn’t worried at all. I knew he was happy with me. “Be quiet, girl. Go to the corner, and put your nose to the wall. Kneel down, and stay there. And put your hands on your head!”

I said, “I’m so sorry, Sir!” He’d know I was lying about that, but he’d keep my secret. Then I added, “Yes, Sir,” and dropped to my knees in the corner. God, my bottom was burning.

There was silence. Sir and Lucy would be staring at each other. “All right, Lucy. I asked you to hold Maddie down. How do you think you did?”

She had to sniff and clear her throat before she could answer. “I – Uh. I failed, Sir. I’m sorry.”

Another pause. They’d be looking at each other. “I’m afraid you did, Lucy. What did I promise you, if Maddie got up?”

Or I could stand behind Sir and watch

“The same as her. Twelve strokes, sir?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Lucy girl. And what will you be wearing while I cane you?”

Kneeling naked in the corner, I felt their glances on me. I blushed. Lucy cleared her throat again. I imagined the tears running down her sweet face. “Nothing, Sir.”

“That’s right, Lucy. Then you’ll be a good girl again, once you’ve taken your punishment. I’m sure you’ll take your strokes well. You want me to be proud of you. And you want to be proud of yourself, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.” Lucy’s voice sounded stronger. “Should I… get ready now, Sir? Take my clothes off and bend over your desk?”

Sir let the silence stretch. He was enjoying himself, I knew. I wondered if his cock was hard. I wondered if I’d be able to suck him after Lucy left. He was going to fuck me for the first time, when I went back to his office after school, But I suspected he needed me now. “Come here, Lucy.”

There was a sudden happy sound from Lucy. So Sir had held out his arms, and Lucy had rushed into them. There was a light smack. Lucy was still bare-bottomed from her spanking. She squealed, but I recognised that sound, since I’d made it myself. She was happy to be turning him on.

“All right, Lucy.” Another smack, and another happy squeal. “I don’t have time to deliver two canings right now. Off to class, girl. But come back… after school. Four o’clock.”

Lucy almost sang her “Yes, Sir!” She’d reached the door before Sir coughed. “Sir? Oh!” She scrambled back to the desk to pick up her discarded panties and skirt, and hurriedly put them on. 

His cock would be Lucy’s soon, sometimes and in a way. But it would always be mine

I risked a glance as she skipped to the door again. Sir was beside me when the door shut after her, and he reached down to take a handful of my hair. I tried to get up, but he twisted my hair till it hurt.

“No, Maddie. Just turn around, on your knees. We’ve got some things to talk about, but you’re not going to be using your mouth for speaking. Not for a few minutes.”

I pressed my face against the front of his pants, then, hesitantly because he’d hadn’t told me what to do,

I pulled down his zip and reached inside his trousers. His cock jumped when my hand touched it. It was so hard.

Sir breathed, “Good girl.”

I opened my mouth.