Wicked Wednesday: Punishment robe

I’d just ordered Claire back to her position, nose to the wall, striped ass displayed. She’d hurried to obey, but was slower to remember what she had to say, if she didn’t want more of the cane. “Yes Master!”

“Just in time, girl.”

Claire would need to wear something while she came home with me, and making her put her panties and dress back on would be cruel, now her ass was so sore and sensitive. I turned to Maddie.

“Maddie, this school has had five years without corporal punishment, before I arrived. But when a student is going to punished in front of the school, it seems that they would have had something loose they could wear when they first arrive in front of the assembly. Until they have to take it off and bend over the bench.  I know it’s been a while since that happened, but there must be a robe or something, somewhere, that we can use?”

Maddie didn’t answer immediately. She was staring at Claire, naked, hands on head, nose to the wall, with thirty-six fresh cane stripes across her bottom and upper thighs, red across delectable lightly tanned skin.

I said, “Maddie.”

Maddie was having trouble focusing on important matters. She closed her eyes for a second. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry. That girl there, Claire, those welts are so sexy on her. She looks so beautiful, standing there in disgrace. I see why you like to look at me when I’m like that. Claire, you’re a sight that attracts the eye.”

Claire said nothing, and didn’t move a muscle. I said, “Maddie, you’re about five seconds away from getting the same.”

“Sorry, Master. I think there’s a sort of robe in the storeroom, I think it’s satin, that must have been used for that. Should I bring it now, Master?”

I nodded. “Of course, Maddie.”

“Just a moment, Master.”

Sounds of shuffling and thumping of boxes came from the storeroom.  Maddie emerged, triumphantly, holding a slinky beige robe. “This is probably it, Master. They must have had the naughty students come out in this! For public punishments.” She held it up.

It seemed to be a garment designed for humiliation. It was sleeveless, and it would come about halfway down the thighs of most people who wore it. The hang of the fabric meant it would hug the figure of the wearer. The beige colour was neutral, neither flattering nor ugly. I nodded. “Put that robe on the hook on the clothes rack, Maddie. And take all Claire’s clothing and put it into a bag, would you?”

Claire, nose to the wall, straightened up when she heard that, but she already knew better than to protest. Three dozen cane strokes, and the two extra strokes to come, that meant that three dozen is not the limit, will teach any submissive that lesson.

Maddie gathered the clothes Claire had shed, panties, pantyhose, shoes, skirt, blouse and jacket, and put them in a blue velvet bag, which she left on my desk. She hung the flimsy robe on a hook near Claire. She looked at me. “She looks perfectly delightful, Master. And she’s being a good girl, now. But may I smack her one more time, Master?”

 

 

Masturbation Monday: Arguments for anal sex

Teresa kissed Roland, post-coitally lazy. “You know, if you fed your vampire girl, regularly, with your come, into my body and not into little bags that you throw away, I don’t think I’d have the urge to bite you. And then you could fuck me, face to face, without pushing my face away or tying me down.” 

“I like you tied down.” That was a compliment, one of the odder ones she’d ever been given, but she knew he meant it.

He bit her breast lightly. “And I think you like being tied down, too.”

“Yes, I do. But maybe not every time? You can tie me whenever you like, but it’d be nice to think you trusted me. That you don’t trust me – and I know you’re not completely wrong, given my record – but that’s still … kind of hurtful. ”

“Ok. Then get on the pill tomorrow. And the deal seems to be, at the moment, that we neither of us fuck anyone else. Except with the other’s permission, and then with a condom. All right?”

“Sir!” She said it like a soldier acknowledging an order. Teresa realised she only called Roland sir when she was asking for something, or she was happy with something he’d said. She knew he liked hearing it. In her own way, she thought, she was training him.

“So will you fuck me now? Without you wearing a stupid bag on your cock? I want just your skin and mine together, nothing between us, and your seed when you come in me. Sinking into me. Letting me absorb it. Feeding me. I mean, I’d kind of like that right now, sir.”

Roland shook his head. “I’m still not going to risk you getting pregnant, little Teresa. We’ll still have to wait.”

Teresa kissed Roland’s collarbone, still not quite healed from her bite. “Sir, I can suck your cock. I can swallow your come, taking it all down into me, and it goes through my body. I extract its energy while it’s in my stomach, and what I can’t use passes on into my alimentary canal. And out.”

“You want to suck me off? So that I come in your mouth? And that would feed you? All right.”

“No. I mean, yes, but not right now. That’s not what I want us to do. I’m just pointing out that you don’t have to think only of my cunt. You can fuck me hard, come in me and not get me pregnant. I’m amazed you haven’t taken my arse so far. You obviously like it.”

“I like your arse a lot.”

“So we’ve got the answer, sir, haven’t we? Fuck me up the arse, and I won’t feel I have to feed on your blood. And I won’t keep biting you. Your seed, my lover and my sir’s seed, that’s got to be even stronger than blood.”

Roland stared at her, as if she’d said something strange. Perhaps she had. She could see him waking up from his post-orgasmic stupor.

He said, at last, “You know, you’re right. I come in your perfect arse, and you won’t bite me. So that’s how it’ll be, the very next time.”

“No. Idiot.”

He said, “Idiot?” She glanced at his cock. It was still mostly down, but it was becoming engaged again, starting to take notice and thicken. He noticed her glance.

Teresa still looked at him as if he were a slow child. “Roland, I’m not talking about the future. I’m saying, fuck me up the arse. And come in me. I mean now, sir.” She rolled over and lifted herself onto her hands and knees. As she’d expected, the sight of her, presented, her arse up, inviting and demanding his desire, made the difference she wanted. He woke up.

“Your arse,” he said, “is perfect. And perfectly poised. And you’ve just made the weirdest argument for buttsex I’ve ever heard. But I endorse the no-biting project. Also, your arse has the sexual pull of about a thousand ships, I’d say.”

“So?” Teresa shook that arse at him.

Sinful Sunday: Good girl, bad girl, trick or treat

She’s been a perfectly good girl. And yet, she is there, and stage one has just ended. 

But good girl, bad girl, trickster or treat: who cares? She’s got a gorgeous arse, and she colours beautifully.

Is this a trick or a treat? If you could hear the squeaks while we built up the heat for this photo, you’d probably guess. 

Either way, trick or treat always starts here. Never where it ends, though.