Sophia is not the most trusting submissive in the world. She knows what that frame is for, and what the cane is for. The cane, in fact, is for her.
But though she’s been told to look straight ahead, she hears the sounds of her Sir getting undressed. This one glance will cost her bottom dearly, but it also shows her that the frame she’s bending over has two uses.
Sir is blatantly enthusiastic about both uses.
Sometimes it’s the Master who’s the brat. “Come on, Arethusa, I wanna play!”
“Mmmph. I’m not.”
Master goes off, makes a cup of tea. It turns out not to be as good as sex.
Master picks up the cane. He knows how to wake Arethusa.
But at this last second he takes this pic, of resting peace. Then …
The greatest scene in the history of movie-making (I’m with Noot, who said, “Oh, I am enjoying this!) is the one that ends with a zillion Scots girls pretending to be virgins, who shout, “And after the Spanking … the Oral Sex!”
But while that’s generally a sound approach to life, you need to have just one thing intervene between the two: the comfy bed!
(Thanks as always to my model the lovely Zoë.)
Keli had not, in fact, ever been spanked before. Or given commands by someone who expected her to do as she was told. She contacted me, through this fine website, to point out this tragic fact and see if I might help.
So we talked. It turned out that she lived over seventy miles away. The rules of first meetings, in bdsm, are black and white: I gave her my details and told her to check them, and give them to a friend, and proposed that we meet for the first time in some safe public place. Then, if all went well, I could take her to my place or hers. That second rendezvous probably to be at a later date.
But Keli wasn’t interested. She gave me her address, said she was alone and that I should get there, now. It was an emergency!
So I packed a basic tool kit and drove. When I found the place (I mean her house), we were both a little on the impatient side. This photo was taken within about three minutes of our meeting for the first time.
People don’t always act sensibly. Neither of us were. Still, sometimes, not being sensible turns out wonderfully. Like here.
Arethusa enjoyed a good spanking and a good flogging. But best of all was getting both, over the space of an hour or so. That sensation, the stimulation and the warmth, and the mental satisfaction of sinking into submission and knowing that nothing that happens is her choice: those things are hot, and luxurious.
But sometimes she’d cheat a bit, reach down and help herself to even more pleasure.
The indulgent Master doesn’t mind. Just keeps those smacks coming.
The lovely Zoë, in submissive mode, and perhaps mood.
There’s quite the pile of implements for improving the colour and temperature of her bottom, and perhaps her moral character, though in truth that can’t be improved.*
Mostly they’re hidden under her body. Perhaps she hopes I won’t see them.
Ha! That’s the first place I’d look!
* Because of its existing excellence, I should clarify.
A lovely girl, especially if she is Zoe, should be:
(1) regularly spanked;
(2) loved and cherished, and have every input to make sure she knows it; and
Sound advice from The Junior Woodchucks’ Guidebook section on Domming.
Disobedience should be severely punished. It wasn’t the first time I’d disciplined Arethusa for not telling me about university assignments, and not getting them handed in. I’d caned her for that before.
But it had happened again. I felt it was time that stopped. So this was real; it wasn’t a sexual game, even though anything between Master and slavegirl is inherently sexual. But I genuinely was disappointed in her, and I felt the duty to give correction and change her behaviur.
So discipline had to be memorable and painful. But it’s still true that anything that passes between Master and slavegirl is inherently sexual. She was sorry and embarrassed, and I was cross and certain I was doing the right thing. But it’s still sexual. Without the sexual power that comes when a Dom is being very dominant and a submissive is very submissive, this discipline wouldn’t happen.
It’s as though both of our minds divide into two tracks: for me one track is duty, and for her one track is atonement, and for both of us the other track is lust.
And, of course, Arethusa’s obedience during punishment will eventually be rewarded, with proof that she’s loved and wanted. A Good Girl. Really.
But before we get to there, on the other side, there’s a Bad Girl to deal with. The prolonged waiting, the corner time facing outside instead of nose-to-the-wall, and the sign are all new, at least between the two of us. They’re humbling in themselves, and they warn that today, punishment is going to be a long, slow journey to expiation and forgiveness. And eventually, of course, getting your ass carefully soothed, in bed.
Even in a simple one-subject photo, there is information. There’s the hand, that can’t help but be there, in possession.
There are the vertical stripes on that arse, that tell the expert eye that Arethusa was getting the cane, recently, while giving head for her Master.
There’s the fact that the stripes aren’t very hard, that indicate that she was really very good at giving head.
“Yes,” said Holmes. “Apart from the obvious facts that the girl has superior fellatio skills, is sexually submissive, left-handed, likes red rather than white wine, and frequently gasps when she sits down, I can tell you nothing whatsoever about her.”
When a girl isn’t going anywhere, for a while, she needs cuffs to keep her warm.
These are official police cuffs, that a Domme from an Aussie cop. She later gave them to me, which was a nice present.
They are cold and utterly inflexible, in feel. They say, “you are held”, in the plainest language possible. The warmth is in the our hearts, and in my hands.