Wicked Wednesday: In the Realm of the Sensei 32

Yua and Asuka turned to face each other. It was Asuka who put her arms round Yua, surprising Seamus, who’d expected Yua to be first to take advantage of their intimate position. 

He said, “Yua, put your thigh between Asuka’s; Asuka, let her. Good girls.” After a little graceful shuffling, the girls were pressed close, pussy to pussy, breasts pressing, holding each other tight.

Yua kissed her friend.  

Seamus waited for the first press of pussy against pussy, the first swing of hips. Asuka’s bottom arched back, in response to Yua’s slow thrust. Seamus swung the cane and stung his girl, just a little. When Asuka moved back at her friend, impelled a little by the new sting in her rear, and Yua retreated, he caned Yua, again lightly.

The girls fucked, standing, eyes wide, mouths open and exploring, with Seamus’s cane helping to choreograph and set the timing for them. They were beautiful together, and Seamus kept the pressure on till their bottoms were well, though lightly and pinkly, striped. 

Eventually, as he knew had to happen, Asuka lost concentration, at least concentration on matters like standing up, and she sank to her knees. Yua followed her down, pushing Asuka onto her back on the atami living room floor.

Yua knelt between Asuka’s thighs, her hands under Asuka’s buttocks, licking her intently while Asuka shook her head desperately, and muttered soft, high-pitched nonsense syllables.

Seamus gave Yua two harder strokes across her bottom, for reasons he could not have explained, but it helped increase Yua’s dedication to her task. Until Seamus knelt behind her, and entered her sweetly wet pussy. Yua raised her head for a second to squeal happily, and then returned to her task.

His hands gripping Yua’s hips with all his force, so he controlled her movements, he fucked the girl, slowly, savouring each movement. Seamus watched Asuka’s face as Yua industriously pleasured her.

He’d hoped to have eye contact with his love while he fucked her friend, but Asuka’s eyes were shut tight and she was lost, breathing in hard through her nose and mumbling sweetly with her out-breaths. Eventually Asuka reached up and put her hands on Yua’s shoulders, then reached under to hold her breasts. Yua yelped, happy, and Asuka squeezed, trying – not very successfully – to be cruel.  

But even the effort hit Yua, and in response she she thrust back at Seamus, needing all of his cock in her. Suddenly their fuck became hard and intense, and he had to hold Yua tight to keep her from bucking him out of her.

He smacked her with his hand and she growled, nose still deep pressed in Asuka’s cunt. Seamus wanted to slow down, prolong this, but Asuka suddenly opened her eyes and cried out. He hadn’t expected her to be the first to come, or to come so fast. She looked up and saw Seamus then, his face over Yua’s back, and smiled at him, still coming. 

Seamus didn’t smile. He was too focussed. Yua said, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sensei!” He felt the flutter of her cunt contracting and releasing on his cock, and he pumped her in earnest, without holding back. They came more or less together, or at least in overlapping waves. “Oh, fuck me. Fuck me,” Yua said, though it seemed to him that it was a little late to suggest that. She slowly fell forward till she lay on her stomach, face on Asuka’s midriff, Seamus still hard in her.

Asuka smiled up at both of them, obviously still a little dazed. She put one hand on Yua’s mouth, and the other on Seamus’s. He saw Yua bite his girl. He kissed the hand at his mouth.


Sinful Sunday: Goodness! Such badness!

Sometimes Arethusa misbehaved. She didn’t enjoy the micro-second of contact between the cane and her skin, but then the next second it was warming and thuddy. Ties in place, she felt wonderfully submitted. In every sense of the word it was hot

Eventually it dawned on her poor, gullible Master that the cane didn’t have any deterrent effect, whatsoever. Oddly, because he was a kind and indulgent sort of Master, “strict” canings still happened anyway. 

 

 

Sinful Sunday: Consolation Prize

It didn’t happen every time. But usually he gave her an orgasm, one way or another, before she got up from her punishment place and position. 

So much of the rhetoric about life between a willing slave and her chosen Master comes down to this: he has to make himself useful, and keep his possession glad that she has a Master.

Arethusa was, in a sense, easy to please, after punishment. She felt especially sexually needy and urgent after he’d caned her. Partly, he believed, she wanted to distract herself from the fire in her ass, but also… she was fiercely aroused. Hungry.

So was he.

Sinful Sunday: The Light

It was bright daylight outside, and there was darker, more intimate and comforting light inside.

My loveslave, Arethusa, was getting the cane. Not for any misconduct, but for her Master’s pleasure, and, though she’d only admit that afterwards, hers. She’d feared it once, but since then it became her favourite instrument. The line of pain was so intense and so clear, like the mark it left for days after. 

But she wanted comfort, which is darkness. I wanted her pain, which is bright. 

So we did what we wanted together. And we took what we most needed. How, how much I needed her.

Wicked Wednesday: Message received

Claire said, “I wish… I wish you’d be mine. I mean my Master. Even if only for a while. But I need someone guiding me at the moment. Standing behind me. For me. I’ve gone so wrong.”

I said, “Then you’re under me, until further notice. You may call me Master. And your first order is to remember that your past is paid for. In full. If I hear you express any guilt about fucking that guy, ever again, we’ll go through this once more. Understood?”

Claire closed her eyes. At last she said, “Understood. Master.”

Wicked Wednesday: Claire, paid in full

So I kissed her mouth, and we held each other like lovers. She could feel me hardening for her. Because the sexiest thing, between her and I, as the punished and the punisher, was not her beautiful naked body.

Nor her helpless presentation over my desk, or her gasps and stripes as the cane did its work, wonderfully hot though those things all were, but her acceptance and submission. We were going to take each other, fiercely, s soon as possible after this had finished. I knew she felt that desire too, that powerful sexual heat from her own submission. We didn’t speak about it.

Sinful Sunday: Comfort and the cane

Arethusa got this caning for missing a doctor’s appointment. But the first thing I did was put down not one but two pillows for her to rest on, so she didn’t hurt herself, bending over my table.

It didn’t strike me, until I looked at the photos I took, what an odd mix it was: caring so much about her comfort, and then taking the cane and making her as uncomfortable as I possibly could. 

Sinful Sunday: Canes, kisses and warmth

The end of the caning. I’m quite proud of those closely spaced marks, and the story they tell.

But I like the combination of those hot stripes and the warmer blush surrounding them, and the warmth of the light. Which was more luck, for me as photographer, than good management. But warmth, in every sense, is right.

 

 

 

Sinful Sunday: Wild justice


Revenge is a kind of wild justice, but not all wild justice is revenge.

Generally, when I’m laying on the cane for disciplinary purposes, I like to make the cane stripes straight, close but not overlapping, and neat. That seems to go with the word, “discipline”. 

But on this occasion the girl Arethusa was being punished for chaotic behaviour. I won’t say what it was, but it was the general equivalent of getting drunk at a party and screaming abuse at her best friend, before kissing said friend and insisting that she loved her, then throwing up on her. It was that level of public chaos. 

So I deliberately laid on the strokes from many different directions. It wasn’t really chaotic, but it was as chaotic as I get. I never caned her in quite that way again, because chaos wasn’t really something she perpetrated often. But I just love the marks that caning left.


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.