I’ve only known one girl who genuinely, without mixed feelings, loved the tawse. That is, applied hard. 

The deterrent effect was somewhere below zero. When it came to cheek, mischief and disrespect, it somehow seems to have been some sort of incentive. 

So the wise Master wouldn’t use it, would he? Except that the tawse makes a wonderful sound on impact, and leaves a warm, increasingly lusty girl with a fresh, beautiful stripe.   

Also, he’s quite fond of her mischief, and he’d never want to turn that off. So the tawse doesn’t keep this household in order, but it does a pretty good job of keeping it happy.

So I said, “I want to you stand there and think about what you’ve done. I’ll be back to deal with you.”

What she’d done, as far as I was concerned, was be too ridiculously cute not to spank firmly before boarding. But from her point of view, well, she had been late to work, for the third day in a row, and that was bad.

Though it was largely my fault. I found it possible to order her to get up and shower and get dressed, but actually kicking her out of bed was more than her Master had had the will-power to do.

So she was standing obediently and waiting, but I expect she knew that this wasn’t going to be one of the world’s most successful disciplinary interventions. Instead it was going to get us both back in bed in no time flat, once I’d re-entered the room. 

Ah, the Master/slave dynamic. It can be a terribly, terribly, tough life.

Arethusa tied to the table, her bottom stripy and very warm to my touch. It feels hot to her too, in both obvious senses of the word.

Usually we’d fuck very soon – seconds – after I’d put the cane down, but this time I left time for her to savour the afterglow while still tied down. And the expectation of sex, also still bound over that table.

 It took Arethusa far too long to get her Master to fully understand just how much she liked being bound. By which I mean I was shamefully slow to realise it.

I love the warmth of another body. Sometimes I can’t help making it warmer.

That’s I have to say, today, except: 

Thanks to my model and victim – actually warmth co-celebrant – the beautiful Zoë.

(Also acknowledging a special guest appearance by part of my left foot.)

This one’s me for a change, running naked round a fire. The original pic is my Twitter avatar. This version has been tormented by the person who took that photo. Very Burning Man! 

If passengers will turn to the left (and you should; America, we’re counting on you! Dump Trump’s Rump!), you’ll see a thumbnail of the original pic. 

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!” 

“I’m sleepy.”

“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 …