Wicked Wednesday: Lucy’s face

The previous episode is here

 

Sir, the cane in his hand, said, “All right Lucy. Now bend over the desk. Good girl.”

I watched Lucy, her eyes fixed on mine as she bent lower, her lovely breasts descending, and then flattening as her body touched the table. Now I could only see her back, and the upper slopes of her bottom.

“Put your hands under your Mistress’s thighs. Good. Hold her, and don’t let go or you’ll get extra. And where does your face go?”

“In Mistress’s pussy? Sir?”

“Clever girl. Bend a little tighter now, so you can reach.” Lucy wriggled forward. I felt her hair against my thighs, and then her nose and mouth.

Then she kissed my cunt. I sighed. The joy of it was so intense I nearly fell backwards.

“Now pleasure your Mistress, Lucy. Have you licked a girl before?” She couldn’t speak, and the head between my thighs turned, side to side, as if she was burrowing in: No, she hadn’t.

Sir caught my eye. He smiled. “Well, Lucy, this may be your first time. But I think you know what to do. Put your tongue out, and keep it busy. The cane will do the rest.”

Sir lined the cane against Lucy’s bottom, across the fleshiest part. I wished there was a mirror, so I could watch it land. But I’d know, of course, every time Lucy jolted. “Maddie, I expect you to keep Lucy behaving, and obedient. If she stops pleasuring you, even for a second, I want you to tell me. Is that understood?”

Lucy was already tonguing me. I had trouble speaking. “Yes. Hrrrm. Yes, Sir, I – Uh! – will.”

“Good girl. Mind you do.” He tapped the cane twice against Lucy’s bottom. “All right. we begin. Be a good, brave girl, Lucy, for me and your Mistress. We’ll make sure you come to no harm, little one.” I felt her nod. Every movement she made felt good.

Sir stepped to Lucy’s left. Poor Lucy sensed that, and she licked me harder. Our good girl.

Sir raised the cane over his shoulder. 

Masturbation Monday: Favours and flavours exchanged

The previous episode is here.

 

Seconds later Maires yowled her own cry, and I felt her cunt seem to clutch at my cock. There was a series of fluttering contractions, and I gasped with the pleasure of it, which was almost too intense to bear. I said, “Ahhhh, uh,” while Maires screamed.

I reached under her and squeezed her breasts, with my thumbs and forefingers squeezing and hurting her nipples, and rode her ass hard, and fast, until she screamed again. 

There seemed to be finality in that second orgasm. Maires had no more left, for a while. So I slowed, growling like a bear, and then stopped.

Maires rested her head on Stephanie’s right thigh. Her hair was wet. 

“Two happy girls. I think this is the best thing there is.” That was inane. Neither Stephanie nor Maires answered. It was true, though.

I’d held off my own orgasm when Maires came because I’d already come in Stephanie’s mouth, when we were in the playground across the road, and that gave me the control to hold myself back. I wanted my next orgasm to be… later.

This has never seemed like a bad idea

I could come in Stephanie’s mouth again. Or in Maires’s. Or both. Maybe I just wanted to fuck Stephanie again. Or both of them. The next time I came, it would take a while to recover. And this was no time for down time. Still, I thought, maybe I could lie on my back, while Stephanie sat on my cock, riding happily, and Maires was on my face where I could tongue her.

On the other hand, maybe the next person to do Maires with their mouth should be Stephanie. Anyway, there was no such thing as a bad choice.

Still undecided, I smacked Maires’s arse again. “Keep very still.”

Maires froze obediently, and I pulled out of her cunt, very slowly. And very carefully; it would take very little to make me come, just then. I rolled Maires over onto her side, and we kissed. Then, without needing to speak, we both moved up the bed, where Stephanie held out her arms, welcoming both of us.

We kissed, the three of us, the two women side by side like the base of a triangle. I was the apex, above them, my cock comfortably held between their hips. Stephanie kissed Maires, and looked at her. Some understanding passed between them, though I didn’t know what it was.

But Stephanie put her hand on my cock. She squeezed, and I gasped again: her cock-puppet. Then she opened her legs again. “You said you’d be in me, once I got onto the bed.”

“Oh. I did, didn’t I?” I slipped my cock between Stephanie’s thighs, the head just touching her cunt. It was a good promise, and I wanted to keep it. But I didn’t push forward. Not yet. Stephanie gazed up at me, puzzled. What was keeping me? 

I said, “Maires? When was the last time Stephanie licked you?”

Maires grinned, while Stephanie looked briefly apprehensive. The answer was ‘never’. I’d be willing to bet that Stephanie had never used any part of her body to pleasure another girl in her life. I kissed Stephanie, then. “Maires just made you come. Do you think you can return the favour?”

“I’ll try.” Then Stephanie looked across at Maires. “Maires, if I’m doing it wrong, please tell me. And tell me what to do. I’m not very – Well, I’m not even slightly experienced.”

Maires hugged her, one hand on her breast, her cunt pressed firmly against Stephanie’s hip. “The only thing you can do wrong, darling, is not enjoy yourself.”

Stephanie’s experience of my belt was still hypothetical. But all three of us knew it was going to happen. Though we didn’t know when.

I said, because it seemed time to reclaim one particular kind of erotic tension, “Or not try hard enough. You’ll show enthusiasm, Stephanie.”

Stephanie grinned and squeezed my cock again. She weren’t afraid of no doms. So I put growl back into my voice. “My belt is on the floor, at the moment. And you haven’t felt it across your arse, yet. Both of those things can change, girl.”

Stephanie only stroked my cock. But Maires knew what was happening. She said, “Sir, I think she does need the belt. And I really want to watch while she gets it.”

Stephanie raised her eyebrows at that, but I could feel her mood changing back. I was in command again. I said, “Onto your back, Maires. And Stephanie, onto your knees. You know what to do.”

Same as before (but the women have swapped positions)

Maires rolled out from under me, and held out her arms for Stephanie. She wanted her. I thought Stephanie would like the new experience, and feel proud of herself when Maires came. But Stephanie didn’t move. She said, “What about you?”

“The first time we hear Maires moan, you’ll get my cock back. Where it belongs, pretty girl.”

So Stephanie rolled onto her tummy, head between Maires’s thighs. Slowly, and spectacularly, her ass rose.

 

 

 

Sinful Sunday: Zoë Keeler

This reminds me of Christine Keeler’s famous chair photo. The Tories were in at the time, so it’s to my right —>

Except that Ms Keeler had a significantly smaller chair. And my lovely model, being a dancer, has better legs.

And my model is leaning back, as if that chair is a bucking bronco.

She is, in fact, rocking that chair. (Only in the fashion sense, of course.) 

 

 

E[lust] 107: All bad children live in heaven!

Photo courtesy of Cammies on the Floor

Welcome to Elust 107

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

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Baby making…

I thought of GotN while fucking

Man-struation

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Room 401

Compost

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

The Shadows Fall Behind You

Blogging

How and If to Continue

Erotic Fiction

Conference
driving lessons
Elegant is as Elegant does
Naked in the Rain
I’ll Watch
The Muse
Underdog
On the Dark Side
Cosmic
The Shadows Fall Behind You
The Key to Room 237 – The Embrace.

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

On Letting Go
Not Bad, but Not Good
His Voice (and other things)
Compersion and the Green-Eyed Femdom
Kinky Fuckery

Erotic Non-Fiction

Our Largest Organ
The lovers joined
The Comfort of Familiar Sex

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Outside the Bubble
Are you on Collarspace.com? Read this
Selling Worn Knickers
My naked Mistress

Wicked Wednesday: Maddie’s tale

The previous episode is here

Sir had said I was going to enjoy helping him to give Lucy her first caning. I felt a little guilty about that because Lucy was only going to get the cane because she’d been told to hold me down, and I’d deliberately got up, just to get her into trouble. I planned to start disciplining Lucy myself, soon, but I didn’t want to hurt her just now. So I said, “Sir?”  

“Maddie, I want you to sit on my desk.”

“Yes, Sir.” I rested my bottom on his desk and swung my legs. “No, not perch on my desk. I want you to get right up on top. And right over to the other side of the desk.” 

“Ok, sir.”

And I clambered up, aware of both Lucy and Sir watching me. So I sat in the middle, my knees up, arms over my knees, looking at them. 

“Good girl. Now skootch a little further back. So you’re on the far side of the desk. When my chair is.” 

I skootched. His desk was oak. The wood was so hard and cold, under my bottom and thighs. “Sir?” 

“Good girl. Now spread your knees, wide apart as you can. Good. What do you think, Lucy?”

Lucy stood beside Sir. Her thighs were trembling. She said, “She – Mistress. She looks very hot, Sir.”

Sir put his arms round Lucy and turned hewr to face him. He cuddled her, and whispered, “Don’t be afraid, Lucy. The cane hurts, but you’ve known it was going to be part of your life since this morning, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes, Sir. I have. But I’m still afraid.” She leaned in against him, put her arms round him. I knew how lovely and luscious Lucy felt. I wished it was me, in her arms. 

“Lucy, what you’re afraid of, lovely little one, is mostly the unknown. All the terrors of your imagination. You’ll find this is going to sting, and it’ll mark for you a few days. But it’s not as terrifying as you think. You’ve got Maddie to thank, for you being just about to get your first caning. You know that, don’t you.”

“Sir! I let her get up when you told me to hold her down. I failed, Sir.”

Sir smiled and smacked Lucy’s bottom lightly, then let his hand stay there, squeezing. Lucy wriggled.

“Yes, but she got up, Lucy, darling. She wanted you to get the cane today. She was turned on and she wanted to watch you be punished too. But she also did you a good turn. It’s better to get the cane early, than to fear it and let the fear build up until it becomes something terrible. So I want you to turn now, and thank your Mistress for getting you caned.”

“Sir!?” Lucy sounded shocked. Then she thought, and nodded. She looked at me. Her tongue came out and wet her lips. I felt it in my cunt, when she did that.

Lucy swallowed, then spoke firmly. “Maddie. Mistress, thank you for making sure I got the cane today. It is better if I don’t have to wait. So thank you.”

Sir smacked Lucy’s bottom again. A little harder, leaving a pink print this time. But he said, “That’s good, Lucy. Well done.”

Lucy smiled and cuddled in again, her breasts heavy and so pale, crushed against his jacket. Sir kissed her forehead, then looked at me. “Good girl, Maddie. Now lean back. Put your hands on the edge of the desk, behind you. And push your pussy forward a little. No, more. That’s good. Don’t move out of that position until I say.”

He stepped back from Lucy, then picked up the cane again. She was being brave, but now her caning was about to happen I could see tears glistening in her eyes. He whispered something to her. I couldn’t catch it but it was loving, encouraging.

He held the cane under her chin, to lift her head. Then he touched it to her mouth, and she kissed it. Slowly, almost reverently.

Masturbation Monday: A seagull’s cry

We were in one of the classic threesome line-ups, with Maires on her knees, ass up, getting fucked by me, with her head down between Stephanie’s thighs, her nose, lips and tongue deep in Stephanie’s centre. Stephanie lay back, slowly writhing, eyes closed.

She’d let go of Maires’s hair, and her fingers were clenched on Maires’s shoulders. There was a little smear of blood on Maires’s right shoulderblade, where Stephanie’s nails had dug into her skin. I doubt that Maires had noticed.

I’d promised Stephanie that she’d still be feeling me while I fucked Maires, and so I smacked Maires on her right thighs. Then again, so I had her attention. “Slow down, Maires. I told you to follow me. You do Stephanie at the speed I’m doing you. Remember?”

“Yes sir. Sorry, sir.” Maires raised her head from Stephanie and looked at me for a second. Beseeching.

She seemed to have forgotten her embarrassment about calling me “sir” in front of Stephanie. But she knew that she’d just been slightly disobedient, and disobedience usually got her caned, and she probably didn’t want me to cane her in front of Stephanie.

Though, dangerously for her, that idea turned me on as soon as I’d had it. So she wanted to show me she was good. She dropped her head again and kissed Stephanie’s cunt gently. She slowed down.

She put three fingers into Stephanie’s cunt, pressing upwards, and began a series of long, slow licks, from the softly creased skin below Stephanie’s cunt, slowly upwards, then around her fingers until she lapped at Stephanie’s clitoris.

Then, as I drew back from Maires, as slowly as I could, she’d lick downwards, and then reverse when I thrust forward and deeper into her. So that was our rhythm. Stephanie spread her thighs wider and lifted her knees a little. She was being a helpful girl, in case Maires needed better access. She put both hands on Maires’s head, holding handfuls of hair, and pulled her in closer. She wasn’t being dommy; just greedy.

I sped up slightly, and Maires picked up her pace, her face pressing into and pleasuring Stephanie’s cunt. She moved her fingers, thoroughly wet from Stephanie’s cunt. to press against her little asshole, and slowly enter.

Stephanie’s head fell back onto the pillow, and she moaned. I liked that sound, and wanted to hear it again, but with my cock entering her little asshole. I wanted to lean forward and kiss her, but I couldn’t just then without withdrawing from Maires.

And I needed to be in Maires just then, and she needed me.

So we picked up speed again. I fucked Maires a little harder and faster, which Maires in turn passed to Stephanie. Stephanie wailed, and that became continuous. She was going to come soon. She raised her head, and we looked at each other.

I said, “Good girl, Stephanie. I want you to come, now. Be a good girl and come, now.” Stephanie grunted, her mouth opened as if she was about to scream, but no sound came. Maires sped up again, not quite on cue from me, but unable to stop herself, her fingers and tongue working as fast as they’d go.

Stephanie stared at me, as if she was in anguish and the most terrible thing in the world was being done to her, and then she closed her eyes tight and wailed again. Her knees lifted while she cried out, a high, lost sound like a seagull’s cry, and she took her hands from Maires’s head and clutched her own breasts, squeezing tight. Then she lay back, arms fallen to her sides, gasping for breath. 

Janie’s drop, part 1

She’d kind of hoped he’d take her with him

“Why do you have to go, anyway? Can’t I come with you, Master?”

Janie knew she only sounded querulous. No one likes a whiny sub, she’d been told. She knew, too, that Paul had little choice about this trip. It was work. But Paul had never punished her for needing him.

Paul smiled. “You won’t be missing me much, Janie. You won’t have time.”

Huh? “Master?”

“You’re meeting my friend Monica. She’s in charge of you this weekend. You’ll address her as Mistress, and you’ll obey her just like you obey me. Until I collect you on Monday. Understood?”

Janie felt near-terror. She’d never obeyed, or served, anyone but him. “Yes, Master?”

This was her calm space, and they were both leaving it

Yes, Jane.”

“How can I- ?” She wanted to say, “serve anyone but you?”, but she knew this was already decided. And although this frightened her, she didn’t want to displease Paul. “How do I get to her place? Do you have her address?”

“I will deliver you, little love, and I’ll come to collect you when I’m back. And we’re leaving right now.”

Panic! She felt the sudden jolt, the lift in her heart rate. “Master! Please! I, I have to pack!”

“You’re wearing your collar. You won’t take that off, and you won’t need anything else. Now, girl.”

Wicked Wednesday: Darkness and light

I’m a dom. When I go to meet a bunch of people who also do bdsm, I’m likely to wear black: black boots with metal rings, black jeans with zips all over the place, black t-shirt, black jacket.

That’s traditional. It’s probably only thirty to forty years old, as traditions go, but I tend to go with traditions where they’re harmless. But in general I’m not an enormous fan of black or darkness.

Dr Frederick Wertham was quite right to say there was a strong fetishistic streak in comic book characters. (That’s Superman and Power Girl, by the way.)

For example I always preferred Superman to Batman; Superman’s story is about optimism and ethical issues, while Batman’s story is about poor Bruce Wayne being psychologically messed up because he saw his parents murdered in front of him.

Superman’s problem is essentially that he’s a god, and he has to work out ways of using his powers to help humanity without getting in their way too much. To me that’s more interesting and actually far more relatable that Batman’s dead-parents-bitterness problem.

Because we all have some power, and we all need to work out how to use our allocation of power to make things better.

 (Don’t get me wrong. I like the Batman mythos and I ain’t dissing Bruce Wayne. I just prefer Superman’s world. And worldview.)

Wertham’s mistake was in thinking there’s anything wrong with that. (Batman with Catwoman.)

Similarly, I’m not really interested in the problems of the traditional powers of darkness. I could never take vampires, werewolves, ghosts, demons and devils seriously. I don’t just mean that I don’t think they’re real. It’s that as story elements they seem kind of silly, rather than sexy or stylish or chilling or whatever. I can’t be scared by a vampire story or movie, because they just don’t feel real. 

Darkness, when I’m writing, tends to come in the shape of a corrupt or authoritarian politician, a racist cop, a violent husband.

Or just malign chance, like disease or car accident. 

Most of the people in stories I write, including the erotica, are well-meaning. They may get ratty, and thoughtless, but that’s because they’re under stress. Given time to relax and think, they behave better. I write that kind of interaction not because it’s a fantasy world I want to live in: it’s actually the way that most real people actually do behave. I also think it’s more interesting: the struggle people have, in trying to find and make themselves do the right thing. And conflict between people who both think they’re doing the right thing, and are well-meaning, is more interesting that struggles between “good” and “evil”. 

Once we’ve got our black gears on, all male doms think we look like this. In our dreams…

As a dom, I give control, restraint and certain kinds of pain to women who want that, to be controlled, held tight, bound, given carefully measured touches of pain, while knowing that they are loved and looked after.

That doesn’t seem to me to be “dark”, or enhanced by pretending that it is. It’s colourful, the colours of blush and arousal, which vary with different skin colours, but are seldom really “black”. Sex, and especially bdsm, is not at all monochrome. 

It’s an exchange, for love, or at least affection, and pleasure on both sides. We give each other things that the other fiercely needs, while receiving the equivalent from them.

So I don’t deal much in darkness, or in black. Except for the clothes. 

 

I’ll be back to Maddie’s saga next week. 

 

Masturbation Monday: Follow me

This is turning into a saga. The previous episode is here

 

Maires and I licked and nibbled our way down Stephanie’s thighs, she writhing slowly and smelling beautifully, headily, aroused. Eventually, when Stephanie would expect at least one tongue to touch her glorious, shiny centre, I stopped and kissed Maires.

Mouth to horizontal mouth, while Stephanie’s vertical mouth leaked, and she tried to move down the bed so her cunt touched our faces. I smacked her leg, and she stopped, making piteous, disappointed sounds. After a while, Maires stopped kissing me. She looked at me, eyebrows up, and I nodded.

Maires turned her head, and pressed forward, delicately, her mouth softly touching Stephanie’s cunt. Stephanie said, “Hooo”. 

Then Maires licked, firmly upwards, touching and tongue-bathing Stephanie’s clitoris. Stephanie’s whole body clenched, and she was silent, legs apart, abandoned, waiting for whatever we might make happen to her. 

I slid, snakelike, up the bed while Maires was busy with Stephanie’s sweet centre. I kissed her, and she opened her eyes. We smiled at each other. I said, “I’ll be fucking Maires next.” 

Stephanie nodded solemnly. A host had his responsibilities, and she knew it was Maires’s turn. She sighed, in response to something Maires was doing, then touched my face. She pulled me down to kiss her again. For a long time Stephanie was the centre of our tiny world, on my bed, having her cunt explored and kissing the man who’d just – finally, after too many years – fucked her.

I said, “but when I’m fucking Maires, I promise you’ll still feel me.” 

I know; that sounds egotistical. But we all live in a culture, and because of that culture Maires could lick Stephanie’s cunt because I was there. If I wasn’t present this wouldn’t be happening. My male presence, and I guess things about me specifically, made it possible for Stephanie to accept my girl’s tongue on her cunt, that female to female pressure. But Stephanie was having a threesome with a man, for the time being her man, not lesbian sex. From her point of view.     

I whispered, “Maires likes it if you hold her hair while she’s doing you.” And kissed her again. And a few seconds Maires made a lust noise; she was having her hair pulled, and she was serving. 

I kissed Stephanie goodbye for the time being. Maires was on her knees, her head down deep between Stephanie’s thighs. Her position was close to the one I’d enforced on Stephanie on the carpet. I clambered back until my knees were between Maires’s. I held her hips, Maires’s head still bobbing and bopping energetically, one of Stephanie’s hands in her hair.

My cock pressed forward, between her buttocks. The head touched Maires’s cunt. She was distracted, with her own duties, but she said, “Yer, ye.” I pushed forward. She said, “Ah fuck!” as I entered her. She lost her rhythm, for a few seconds.

I saw Stephanie dig her nails into Maires’s shoulders. Blood was going to be spilled, and soon. I pushed forward, into Maires in one thrust, tightly held in the most perfect world there is, wet, warm, and needing more of me. I smacked Maires’s arse, which I possessed utterly and without reservation from either of us. I said, “I’m fucking you. You’re doing Stephanie. So, follow me.”  

Maires made a sound that wasn’t a protest. It was acquiescence mixed with the knowledge that she shouldn’t take that sort of order. But she liked being given orders, and obeying, as Stephanie did. I wondered which of them would get to surrender to the other. And I pressed forward, and back, in Maires’s clasping wet cunt, riding her high and slowly. 

 

The next episode is here.