Sinful Sunday: Sleeping in sideways socks

A slave girl can too get a moment’s peace. And when she’s tired because you made her tired, and she sleeps because you made her calm and safe, a Dom’s heart gets all warm and gooey. It’s just how it is. 

But there’s something about those socks with the horizontal stripes. I’m not sure why this is so strongly true, but sideways socks are sinfully sexy. On… Sunday.




Wicked Wednesday: Her daughter’s punishment 2

Claire had just agreed that her daughter, Tara, would be caned in front of the school, probably naked. Her consent wasn’t actually necessary, since it was a school matter, but it was good to have it. 

I said, “I’m glad I’ve got your support. This hasn’t happened in this school before. Well, I’m sure it has, but not while I’ve been here. But it has at other schools I’ve taught in. And parental support does help to get the best outcome for the student concerned. You won’t be allowed in the assembly…”

“Thank god. I’d have to watch her take her caning if I was allowed in, but I’m glad I don’t have to.”

“You can wait in my office while Tara is punished. Afterwards she’ll put the robe back on and we’ll take her straight to you. Her clothes will be here too, so you can help her dress. She’ll have the rest of the day off.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’ll be a time when she really needs her mother’s support and love.”

She smiled a little sadly. “I love the poor girl. But she hasn’t thought she needs anything from me for some time.”

“She will need you then, and she’ll know it. If you think you need another day with Tara, to re-establish the connection between you, take it. But I expect her back after two days. She should return to ordinary, everyday life as quickly as possible.”

Claire un-crossed her legs and crossed them the other way. “Thank you, sir.”

Then she noticed she’d called me ‘sir’, and looked briefly flustered. “I shouldn’t say this, considering my daughter is about to undergo an ordeal, at least from her point of view. But this is all a great weight off my mind.”

I said, “I’m sorry, Mrs O’Donnell, but I do need to know a little more about what happened and why. When did Tara start acting out?”

“It was after my husband left. That was two years ago. Tara was upset at the time, and then she started to accept it. Or I thought that she had. But now she thinks it’s my fault  that she doesn’t have a father.”

“Doesn’t he visit? Or have her to visit him?”

“He’s gone. He just disappeared one day, as far as I know. I had no warning, and no new address. And he stopped sending money. I don’t know what I did to make him leave me. I don’t know how I fucked it all up.” Now she was crying again. As she shook, the crying became wilder. She was sobbing, distraught. “Fucked it up for me. And … for Tara.”

Masturbation Monday: Masturbation, on a Monday

Ngaire lay naked on her own bed. She had her thighs wide, and her own fingers, no toys, in her cunt. Her thigh muscles and her stomach muscles were taut. She was getting close. Her mouth opened, though she didn’t want to risk waking Melinda, her daughter, asleep – she hoped – in the next room. But she moaned, and then, when a fresh wave of pleasure took her, hard like a punch in her stomach, she grunted.  

Freddie had been lying beside her, but now he sat in her chair at the end of the bed, watching her.

An hour ago they’d lain together, having fucked more less continuously through their evening, and then, some time in the early morning, they’d lain, happy and relaxed with the other. Ngaire had stroked his cock lightly. It was down to semi-hard, and wet with her own fluids. She ran a finger nail along the underside of his cock and he’d grunted. His cock had jumped, and it stayed lifted, free of his body. Not erect yet, but on the way back.

She’d said, lazily, “I like to wank boys. I did it a lot when I was a kid.”

“To avoid getting pregnant?” 

“Partly. That was the reason at first, I guess. Then I got to like it.”

“A man with his cock in your hand is a bit like a bull with a ring in his nose. So long as you hold that, you’re in control.” 

“No! Well, all right, yeah, that’s true. And as an teenage girl, it’s always nice to feel safe around boys. But I got to enjoy it in its own right. I like the way men respond, how their cock takes them over, when you give them pleasure. I guess I still do like that. Would you like me to wank you off?”

“Ahh. Look, while I can still get it up, I mean this morning, I’d much rather fuck you. I love your cunt. And I’ve got designs on your ass.” 

“Daphne said you like to leave marks on her arse.” 

“Yeah, I do. But I meant I plan to fuck your ass. My cock. In your rectum. Me in control, you out of control. Out of your control, anyway.” 

“Yeah, I think you might be allowed to manage that. Hmm. No wanking you off. Would you like to watch me wank?”

“Actually, yes. I’m still going to fuck you up the ass, if that gives you something to think about while you’re wanking. But yes, I’d like to see you get yourself off.”

“It’s funny, there aren’t many women who want to watch men wanking. But all men want to watch women wank.” 

“You’re more beautiful. I think, anyway. And there’s not much mystery about men wanking. The cock’s sort of out there. But cunts are more inwards -“

“So profound, this man.” 

Freddie put his hand on her left inner thigh, and smacked her, just missing her cunt.

Ngaire knew that wasn’t the last time he was going to smack her, though he was hiding the side of himself that Daphne had told him about. “Ok. Freud: Off! But I think men generally all wank much the same. But women do different things. I’ve had girlfriends who wank lying on their front, others who lie on their backs. Which are you?” 

“I’m an on-my-back girl. And I’m going to wank while you watch. Do you want to see me actually working to get myself off, or do you want me to put on a show?”  

And he’d said the right thing. Ngaire had made herself a pile of pillow to lean back against, and began to stroke her inner thighs, not touching her cunt at first. As if she was teasing herself. 

Sinful Sunday: Clearly an out-take

This is a nice image of a girl, Arethusa, well paddled, her ass and thighs glowing, warm and buzzing, bending over the bed, about to be fucked. It’s clear, and warm, and it’s the out-take. Why? 

Because the one I used, a fuck-up from a photographer’s point of view, better captured the sense of movement, the rush of heated red sex. Here it is again.

I liked the “mistake” much more. So the well-taken photo became the out-take. 

#sexTheoryThursday: History of BDSM Literature 2: Defining BDSM


If you’re going to attempt to provide a History of BDSM literature, you’d best begin by defining your terms. 

There are a number of definitions available, but I think they are mostly flawed by the assumptions the writer has made before trying to say clearly what they mean. 

Definitions by older psychological writers and practitioners, not to mention pseudoscientists like psychoanalysts, tend to build in the idea that bdsm is pathological. On the other hand, some more recent writers have assumed that bdsm is necessarily Safe, Sane and Consensual, so that activities that don’t fit into that ethical frame can simply be excluded and discounted. 

This is my definition, and I think it’s the most accurate, with the fewest unstated assumptions, on the intellectual market. So it’s the definition I’m using when I discuss writing that expresses bdsm desires.



Wicked Wednesday: Her daughter’s punishment

“Thank you. It’s such a relief. Can I ask what Tara is likely to, well, get?”

“Shoplifting affects everyone in this school. It brings down our reputation, and means that our pupils are less trusted, whenever they go shopping. So Tara will be caned in front of the whole school.”

“I know that corporal punishment is back, here. And I’m glad. I believe it’ll help her settle down again. She’s been acting out, I think they call it, lately. Going wrong. Caned in front of the school? Is there a procedure for that? What happens, exactly?”

“There’ll be a wooden bench at the front of the assembly, with straps for her wrists and ankles. Tara will be at the back of the assembly stage, behind the teachers, while I explain that that a girl has been caught shoplifting, and because that affects everyone, everyone will watch it be dealt with.”

“Oh.My poor silly girl, she’ll hate that. But I can see that she”s let everyone down.” 

“I’m afraid she has. Her example will have some good effects. It’ll scare the daylights out of some of them, mostly girls, and I think there won’t be any more shoplifting for quite a while afterwards. Tara will be called forward. She’ll be wearing a robe, and when she gets to the bench, she’ll take it off.”

“A robe. You mean only a robe? Nothing underneath?”

“Most likely. If Tara owns up quickly, and she’s fullly contrite early, she might get to keep a bra on, possibly even a shirt. But if she lies to me, then, yes, she will be quite naked.”

“Oh. She’s very modest. The boys will see her body. She’ll never forget that.”

“I should tell you that this is the school’s decision, not yours. I don’t need your consent. But do you object to that?”

Claire puffed her cheeks and blew. “Mr Beecham, the truth is that it’s a relief. I’ve been worried sick. I–” She shook her head, distressed. “I don’t know why that girl has done this. But if you can give her a very harsh lesson, that won’t be something on her record, that follows her round for the rest of her life, I’d–”

She put her hand, suddenly, to her face. Her shoulders shook. Tears are not a rare occurrence in this office, and I took out the box of tissues and passed it over.

She smiled, while still crying. “Of course you should do what you think best. And it’ll do Tara the world of good. I’d be so grateful to you. I am now.”

She wiped her eyes then, and blew her nose.