Masturbation Monday: Lunch with a caned girl

After making omelettes and warming bread I put the tray in front of Emily, who lay on our bed, on her front. I sat beside her, my back against the headboard. Emily demolished her omelette at speed, and helped herself to some of mine. Healing is hungry work.

She passed me her plate, for me to put on the floor beside the bed. “So. I’m supposed to obey you. Like take orders, from now on. But what happens if you tell me to do something really stupid?” 

“Well, I’ll try not to. I don’t want to do you harm.”

“Oh that’ll work. Because your judgement is always better than mine.”

I put my hand on her well-welted left buttock and squeezed.

“Yeech! Well, all right: mostly it is, come to think of it. But not always, Jaime.”

“That’s true. I can say really stupid things.”

Emily nodded. “How about if sometimes I say, ‘excuse me, but what you just told me to do, um, putting this nicely, was stupid and it would do me harm because’. And then I’d explain that it’s a bad idea because of whatever it is.”  

“That’d be fine. Except you have to be even nicer than that. I’d suggest speaking respectfully. Or.” I put pressure on the hot skin under my hand.

“Yii! That hurts!” It wasn’t a complaint, or not entirely.

“But if I tell you to do something that would actually be bad for you, then you can trust that I’ve made a mistake. So if I give you an order that seems stupid, tell me. I’ll listen to what you say. Always.”

“Okay. You’ll always listen to me. Then what?”

“Then I re-consider it. Then I decide.”

“I don’t know, Jaime. I want you to be in charge. But if there’s a risk, it’s to me. I know you don’t want to harm me, but what if you told me to do something that would fuck me up at work or something?”

“Well, I’m going to be careful. And I’ll never mind you telling me when I’m wrong. Ever. And I’ll hear you and decide. Carefully. I know what you’re worried about, but I’m asking you to trust me. I have to have the final say, or this doesn’t work.”

“Trust you? You sure? You seen the state of my arse lately?”

“You can trust me to keep your arse in that state. Your arse looks great.”

“Feels warm. Makes me feel horny. Which is weird, I know. Glad it looks good.”

“Oh fuck. Emily, that ass looks fantastic.”

“This is good.”

“But we were talking. You can trust that I’ll only overrule you when I know you’re wrong. Like if you’re trying to get out of doing something you really need to do. That’s when you’ll do as you’re told whether you want to or not. You obey orders, and you accept punishment when I say you deserve it. The final say is mine. That’s how we are, now.” 

I watched her face carefully. She was frowning.

Research finds that spanking children as punishment is a bad, bad practice

New international research by Michigan University used data collected by UNICEF in 62 countries—representing nearly one-third of the world’s countries—and demonstrated that caregivers’ reports of spanking were related to lower social development among 215,885 3- and 4-year-old children.

This map shows only the countries where hitting children has been banned.


They found that children who had been physically disciplined within the last month were:

  • less likely to get on well with other children
  • more likely to hit, kick or bite others and
  • more likely to get distracted easily

A child’s social development suffered in both cases in which he or she was spanked or during times when a sibling had been spanked, the study showed.

Garrett Pace, the study’s lead author and a doctoral student of social work and sociology, said, “It appears that in this sample … spanking may do more harm than good.” Apparently he already has a doctorate in understatement. 

Pace also noted that “reductions in corporal punishment might do a great deal to reduce the burden of children’s mental health and improve child development outcomes globally.”

He called for more effort to create policies that discourage spanking internationally, noting that 54 countries have now banned hitting children. 


(Spanking consenting adults, of course, is a whole different thing. But the thing is, in other contexts we know that you should never inflict sexually charged practices on scared, non-consenting children.)

Wicked Wednesday: Cry if I want her to

Jennifer stood there in my office, little tartan skirt lifted at the back, panties down to her mid-thighs, waiting for Maddie to smack her with the ruler. She’d agreed she deserved this encounter with the ruler, and now there was only the agony of anticipation.

I said, “Good girl. You’re right; you do deserve it. Now, today’s going to be a little different from our earlier sessions, Jennifer. The first difference is that you’re going to count, today. You can treat this little ruler-spanking as a practice. After each smack, you’ll count it out loud, and then you’ll say thank you, to Maddie, and to me. Understood?”

Jennifer had her arms round my neck as I held her still. She looked into my eyes. Something in this situation was making her smile. “Yes, sir. I count, and I say thank you, to both of you.”

“Good girl. That’s a good girl who wants to learn.” Jennifer beamed, a very happy girl, about to be spanked. “Now, you make sure you count out loud as I’ve told you.”

“Oh yes, sir.”

“Maddie, not too hard, for these. Just make sure she feels them. Go.”

A second later there was the characteristic SNAP of wood on flesh, and Jennifer jolted in my arms. She pressed against my cock, and felt the involuntary movement I made in response: a pelvic thrust, for Jennifer. She held me tighter, and lowered her head to rest against my chest.

“Oh, sirrrr:” it was almost a purr. Then she remembered and said, “One! Thank you, Maddie! Thank you, sir!” A moment later, after a few seconds’ thought, she said, “May I have another?”

“Maddie, oblige the girl.” Maddie did, and the girl jolted again, in my arms, pressed against my fully erect cock.

“Two! Thank you, Maddie! Thank you, sir! May I have another?”

I had to laugh at Jennifer’s earnestness, in times of physical punishment. She was such a sweet girl. “A little harder, I think, Maddie.”

Maddie said, “I have to agree.” The third smack was possibly twice as loud, and this time Jennifer had to breath a few times, before she could count and thank. She had the sense not to ask for another.

I said, “Good girls. Both of you.” Jennifer, who was nobody’s fool, shot a look at Maddie. Maddie was a good girl too?

“All right, Jennifer. I told you today is going to be a little different. Take your clothes off, and hang them up, please.”

She glanced at Maddie, and looked at me. “Sir? Everything?” She hadn’t been naked in front of me before. 

“Do as you’re told, Jennifer. Maddie will help you, if you need it. But if you take too long about it, Maddie can show you that that ruler isn’t always a toy.”

She blushed. “Um.” She turned to face the wall, and took her blazer off. She unbuttoned her shirt, and took it off, revealing her bra strap, crossing a pale, slender back. She reached for the catch.

“No, Jennifer. Skirt next.”

“Yes, sir.” She unclasped and unbuttoned the skirt, and hung it up. Then she took her shoes and socks off, putting her socks inside the shoes and placing them neatly on the floor under the rack.

Then she turned to face me, in her bra and panties, arms still protecting her modesty. That, of course, would not last.

Jennifer was beautiful, with just a little puppy fat at the tops of her thighs, a very appealing dome to her tummy, and her breasts just a little fuller than I’d expected. She looked every inch a girl who was about to get the slipper. She was very aware of her situation: this was her party, and she’d cry if I wanted her to. 



Masturbation Monday: What is submission for?

Emily had just confirmed that I was in a position that I could order her to stop smoking. And she’d obey. Sort of. As best she could. Until I made it so, through perseverance and discipline. I decided to accept that gift. “Yes. You quit smoking, for good, on Monday. After you’ve had the third instalment.”

Smoke spurted. “Instalment!”

“Well, you know.”

“All right. I’ll try. No, of course I’ll stop. If you help me.” She saw my face. “Not just by caning me, you bastard. I mean, I’ll need you to help. In other ways. But all right.”

This was more, and easier, than I’d expected. I said, naively, “Good. That’s settled.”

Emily stubbed out her cig and turned to me. I hated tobacco, but it was never the only thing she tasted of. Just then, she tasted of milk and sweat. She said, “Yeah… this is good.” I almost patted her welted and super-sensitive bum. I remembered to stroke the small of her back instead.

“We’ll be all right. Well then. Brush your teeth and come back to bed.” And Emma obeyed. I pretended to be nonchalant. I was jubilant.   

 We slept through the morning, and greeted each other across the pillows in the early afternoon. Emily had slept on her stomach. I kissed her, and inspected the damage. The stripes were bright and her skin was flushed red, even where the cane hadn’t touched, but there was no swelling. Her body was impressively efficient at repairing itself. I kissed each rounded hillock, which drew a sigh rather than a yelp, another sign of healing. I gave Emily a progress report, took a photo of her ass and showed it to her, and got up to make lunch. 

Emily said, from the bed, “Shouldn’t I do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“Well, make lunch. Things. Now that I do what I’m told, shouldn’t I make lunch?” 

“Well, you can do the vacuuming. So long as you’re naked. And dusting, I completely hate dusting. But I’ll watch you dust. I’ll get you a feather duster.” 

“Will you test the surfaces with a white glove? And beat me if the glove gets dirty?” 

“Okay, a feather duster and white gloves. And I’ll definitely beat you. One moment.” 

In the kitchen I put rolls in the oven and made omelettes. It was a gesture, to show that certain things would go on as before. We’d shared chores and making meals, and we still would. I reflected, pouring out orange juice, that I could make Emma do all the housework.

I could sit on a couch and have her do all the work while I wore me a wifebeater singlet and shouted at the sports game. But getting out of housework still seemed a petty use of something as grand as Emily’s submission. It’d be a quick way to have her fall out of love with me. Anyway, I didn’t watch sports.

Running a Munch for Preverts

I organise a munch for perverts in my mountains. It’s just for people to meet and chat.

I got a message after yesterday’s Munch, the sender asking me if it was a great party and if I’d got any sex. Which suggests that if he ever does get to one off my munches, or anyone else’s, he’s in for mild disappointment.

I guess he was thinking a munch is something like
<– this.

Anyway, it came to about eight hours work. A couple of hours to tidy the space and provide food and wine.

Then I chatted with two guys who turned up more or less on time. They left after a couple of hours, and I went and did other things.

A woman turned up about three hours after start time, so I was back in host mode. We chatted very pleasantly for 90 minutes or so, and I could say with complete sincerity that it was nice to meet her. Then she left. 

I thought I was done, but another woman turned up shortly after the first one had gone. And she was nice too, and we chatted away very happily. 

But five people came to that munch, counting me, but there were never more than three people in the room at a time. So in the end I was performing hostly duties for about seven hours. Which is not a whinge, though I do wish everyone had come a little closer to the advertised time. It’s more about it having been a surprisingly tiring day. 

But, at its hottest, a munch is more like <— this…

This is just a slice of life thing. That was my day, working as a humble servant of the bdsm community.

Fortunately, (it’s probably a good thing in a dom) I am immensely patient.




Wicked Wednesday: Jennifer learns about Maddie

Note re Wicked Wednesday prompt: If I ran an erotic site, it would feature content a little like… this.


That afternoon Maddie had discussed what would happen when Jennifer arrived after school, for the second half of her slipper spanking. I told Maddie that when Jennifer arrived she was to bring the girl in, and remain in the room to provide assistance.

“Like, holding her down while you give her the slipper?”

“Yes. Also, I think it’s time she knew that she’s not the only girl who gets in trouble here. And maybe it’s time we made it clear that we’re not just headmaster and secretary.”

“So, I call you Master in front of her, and you threaten me with the slipper too? Or even give me me some while she’s there?”

“You won’t call me Master in her hearing. It’s too soon for that, I think. And I won’t punish you in front of her, unless you misbehave.”

Maddie smiled. I’d removed an important part of her privileged status. It was possible for her to be punished while Jennifer watched. 

“But I hope you’ll behave yourself, Maddie, so I don’t have to. But you might tell her you get the slipper or the cane too, when you misbehave. I think that’d help her, if she can feel that there’s someone else who knows what she’s going through. And that she can talk about things with you.” 

Things. Did you mean feelings? Master.” Her voice was so innocent.

“Careful, Maddie. But yes, Jennifer’s going through experiences she hasn’t had before, and of course she’ll be confused about her response to it. It’d be nice for her, I think, if she’s got someone to talk to, about her feelings.” 

“Does she get to find out that you fuck me, every time you’ve dealt with her, the moment she’s out the door?” 

I thought. Part of me resisted the idea. But Jennifer’s responses to her own submission were obviously and beautifully sexual. She should know that those rewards were there ahead of her, waiting. When the time was right. I nodded at last. “Yes, she can learn that.” 

“Wise Master.” Maddie kissed my nose, and caught a solid swipe with my hand on her bottom as she skipped out of the room. School would end in about twenty minutes. In about twenty-five minutes Jennifer would be in Maddie’s reception, waiting to be taken through to my office to be punished.

Jennifer was on time. Maddie opened the door and ushered her through into my room. Jennifer stepped inside, aware of Maddie following her. She smiled at me, wanly. She’d have rushed me and kissed me, if Maddie hadn’t been with her. But she wasn’t sure what she could do or say, in front of a third party.

“Hello, Jennifer.”

“Hello, sir.” She was almost sullen. She didn’t want Maddie here. I smiled at her, and beckoned with my finger. She came warily closer, and stood up straight, in front of me.

I laughed. “Oh, don’t be a silly girl. The slipper is your problem for today. Maddie really isn’t.” Jennifer didn’t look at all convinced of that. I smacked her bottom, and kissed her.

She lost her resistance in three stages: first, submitting to be kissed, then, a few seconds later, relaxing and enjoying being kissed, and after about twenty seconds she put her arms round me and kissed me back.   

At last I pushed her back a step. She looked happier and her mischief was back.

“How’s your bottom?” I asked.

“You’re going to see for yourself in a moment, sir!”

“Maddie, could you fetch a ruler from the cupboard, please?”

“Yes, Mr Beecham.” 

“Jennifer, I asked you a question. I meant, how does your bottom feel? Is it still sore?”

“Yes, it is, sir. And it is hard to sit down still. But… it’s not as bad as it was yesterday. Or as it’s going to be after this.”

I held her again, and she nuzzled, then kissed my neck. I said, “Thank you, Maddie. Could you lift Jennifer’s skirt at the back, please? Good, hold it there. And you can take her panties down to her knees, now.” Jennifer shook a little, as her panties slid down and her bottom was bared. She hadn’t been prepared for punishment by anyone but me.

I held Jennifer and looked at her while I spoke. “Now, Maddie, you’ll give Jennifer three smacks on her bottom with the ruler.”

Maddie smiled at me. She was always submissive with me, but I knew she sometimes enjoyed the other role.

She took the ruler from the desk, looked at Jennifer’s paled, shocked face for a moment, and smiled brightly at her. She stood behind Jennifer and drew her arm back. I said, “Just a moment, Maddie.”

I kissed Jennifer again. “Why are you about to get a tiny little spanking?”

“Because you asked me how my bottom was, and I was cheeky, sir.”

“So you deserve it, don’t you?” 

Jennifer frowned. She hadn’t expected or wanted to be spanked by someone else. But at least I was holding her. She looked down. “Yes, sir.”

Masturbation Monday: All care, all responsibility

We fucked after Emily’s punishment. We were making certain assurances to each other. Emily still hurt, and she needed to know and trust that I hadn’t hurt her because I despised her, and she also needed to know that I didn’t think less of her for allowing me to hurt her.

I needed her reassurance just as much, that I hadn’t done a wicked thing, that she still loved me and trusted that I loved her and was vehemently on her side. Our gentleness said that I held Emily in awe, and I thought she was braver, more honourable and desirable than I could have imagined.

Our gentleness said that Emily, somehow, still loved me. So we were comforted and reconciled.

Hours later, Emily slipped out of bed, taking care not to wake me. I hadn’t been asleep. It was after midnight. I heard the toilet flush, but she didn’t return. I listened, thinking of Emily in the house without me.

Was she unhappy? If she was unhappy, why didn’t she come to me? She must be brooding, thinking bitter thoughts. Bitter thoughts about me. I told myself this was paranoid and self-obsessed, and to relax. I lasted, sane, for about a minute. Then I got up.

I found her on the balcony, watching the motorway below our apartment. Emily usually wore a robe for her balcony appearances, but her skin was both sensitive and warm.

She drew on a cigarette, her breasts and arms resting on the balcony wall, absently gazing down at the ribbons of car headlights and the nightworld below. She hadn’t noticed my arrival.

I gazed admiringly at the welts I’d given her, which were now a darker red with some black where the last couple of strokes had crossed.

So long as Emily was pleased with this, then I could be proud of giving it. I thought those marks were utterly beautiful and headily sexy. Politics could wait. 

Emily sensed me behind her and glanced back. With no time to compose her face she looked pleased by my presence. My heart lifted. A second later she made a guilty grab at her cigarette pack, then stopped. I’d seen it. But I’d never told her to stop smoking. I’d only advised it. We spoke simultaneously. I said, “you look lovely”, which was true but boring, and Emily said, “I suppose you’ll make me stop smoking, now.” 

Ah. There are many possible reactions to those words. I’m afraid mine was to get a rush of blood to my cock. Emily had given me more power over her than I’d realised. I stepped forward.

I knew her well enough to know she’d probably like to kneel and suck my cock, at that moment. That would let her feel she was serving, she was so owned.

But I wanted out bodies to be pushed closer than that. I was going to fuck her from behind, bending over that balcony, and that was probably going to hurt her hotly welted ass. At least, in that moment, I hoped so.

Sinful Sunday: Time and a blur…

I had to fight, with this one. My girl is not here. 

So I had to use an older image, not of her. In this case the original image was very clear, and I’d rubbed oil into the woman’s skin before I caned her. That makes for shining skin and very clear lines.

But losing that clarity in the filtering process, I finished up with just the curve of her ass and the marks of the cane, reaching red-fingered across her skin. And just a hint of her cunt, offered to that brutal man with the cane. 

The blur makes for simplicity, stripping everything down to those basics.