Monica meets the wooden spoon

So we lay in Monica’s bed. Danny the cat had looked death at me as my foot blocked the way just before the door closed. But I was happy with his absence even if he wasn’t. Monica might have lost a smidgeon of protection but she didn’t seem to mind.

Monica had already been nearly naked before I tipped her onto her bed, but I had to pull off my shoes and socks, jacket and shirt, and pants before I joined her. While I was undressing Monica turned over onto her hands and knees and waggled her arse at me. She was right: I was hard again, wanting her, only about ten minutes after I’d come in her mouth.

So I lay down beside her, on my back, and pulled her over my lap, her hard little arse jutting gloriously upwards, Monica looked up at me.

“I know what this is! I’ve never actually been in it before. But this is the Famous Spanking Position!” I could hear the capital letters.

“Yeah.” I slapped her bottom lightly, then caressed her. She felt wonderful, firm and soft.

She said, “And you’re happy.” She meant she could feel my cock, hard, under her belly. I reached my fingers into the crevice between her lower buttocks and ran them further down, spider-walking with my fingertips until I touched her cunt. She jerked at the contact, my fingertips now a little wet and slippery, and then relaxed as I stroked her, very lightly. Her knees and her forehead dipped and rested on the sheet, all her consciousness, I expected, focussed on her cunt and my fingers.

Then, without warning I suddenly smacked her left cheek, hard. She sang, “Yiii!” But she looked alarmed only for a microsecond, then she grinned. It hadn’t hurt. Far from it.

I said, “‘Thank you, Sir; may I have another?'”

She looked at me, again with only a microsecond of disbelief before she nodded. “Thank you, sir. May I have another one? Just like that?”

She got another, and asked for more. And we continued, Monica learning that the Famous Spanking Position works, until her lower bottom, where I’d concentrated the smacks, glowed red and nicely warm. After the twelfth smack I stroked her cunt again, finding her comfortably relaxed and even wetter.

She sighed under my hand, and raised and turned her head to look at me. “Why is that so fucking hot?”

I considered not answering, because the explanation I knew wasn’t as sexy as it should be. Not as sexy as getting her even hornier and then beginning the promised hundred strokes from her wooden spoon. But it had been a serious question, so I said, “Have you ever manually tuned a radio? Or a TV?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, just before you reach the station, you get a loud burst of white noise, right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That’s the carrier wave. It carries and boosts the signal.” 

“OK.”

“Inside the carrier wave, when you tune the receiver closer, you get the signal, all the creative stuff, the words and music, plus vision if it’s a TV. That’s the content. But without the carrier wave the content isn’t very powerful. I mean it probably wouldn’t reach your set, or only very weakly.”

“OK.” 

“Arousal works the same way. I smack your arse. Stimulation, right? Your body reacts, strongly. That’s the carrier wave: arousal. But on its own the arousal is just loud white noise. It’s the signal that gives it meaning. So if you’re already turned on, and the context is sexy, then each smack boosts your arousal and boosts the signal, makes it sexier. You’re creative too: you create a lot of the sexiness of it.”

Monica reached for and kissed the hand that had just spanked her. “Yeah, I see that. If I was at work and you were my supervisor and you slapped me on the arse: same stimulation but the meaning would be different, and it’d make me fucking angry.”

“Exactly. Of course it helps that every smack on your arse, your cunt feels it too. And, um, some people, they like to let go sometimes and have things just happen to them. They like to issue a good, helpless, sexual surrender. Not that you’re like that,” I lied, politely. 

“It’s not hypnosis,” Monica said, “but it’s still a mind game. And you still need the subject’s cooperation, just like I do.” She nodded. “I have to be turned on. And feeling a bit surrendered.” 

I pressed two fingertips into her cunt. She moved, trying for more, and captured my fingers to the first knuckle. I pressed further then withdrew a little, hoping it was good but still frustrating. Monica flopped up and down on my cock, in response, like a fish on the bottom of a boat.

I said, “Yeah.” I took the wooden spoon. “Now we’re going to make the signal … stronger.”  

I let the convex side of the spoon land, hard, on the crown of her right buttock, where – so far – I hadn’t warmed her with my hand. Monica yelped.

I struck her again, on her left cheek, so she knew this was going to be hard. And relentless.

Monica yelped and sighed, not at all unhappy. She said nothing more, but began to rock as the blows fell, using my cock as her fulcrum.

 

Sinful Sunday: The comfy bed

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.)

Sinful Sunday: Life is not black and white

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. 

 

Sinful Sunday: Little Pleasures

 

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. 

 

Wicked Wednesday: In the Realm of the Sensei 23

Yua looked at him, holding his eyes with hers, while she slowly undid the buttons of her shirt. She shrugged the shirt off and let it fall behind her, standing naked before him. 

Seamus knew he’d made a tactical error, if he didn’t plan to have sex with this girl. It was obvious she would be, as his friend Amida had told him, a luscious fuck. She was smiling, partly to entice him, and partly because she couldn’t help but feel triumphant. Her naked body, smoothly voluptuous, was the strongest signal and the most powerful argument in this room, and she knew it. 

He swallowed, and only then could he speak. “Yua, I am going to cure you of laziness. And disobeying rules. And maybe even your silly, childish game-playing.” 

Her smile flickered when he said “childish”. She was womanly, and she wanted to be treated as such. He was the only male hold-out among the staff, and she’d also made an impressive set of conquests among the younger women teachers.

That helped Seamus decide his next move. He reached for her wrist and pulled her forward, dumping her face-down over his knee. “So we’ll deal with your silly, childish behaviour. Now.”

He raised his hand, flattening his palm and brought it sharply down. Yua’s bottom was soft under his hand, and moon-pale. She was the first student to receive this treatment, as a student, though of course he had spanked Asuka many times.

A few seconds later that delectable bottom was still femininely soft, but not quite as pale.

He applied another smack, on her other cheek, and then began a hard, brisk spanking, leaving her no time to absorb the pain. But he gave her a short pause, her bottom already a deep pink, after a dozen spanks, and then began again, a little harder.

Seamus wasn’t counting the spanks, but after many pauses Yua began to gasp. He continued, spanking her sweet, distinctly red bottom for another ten minutes. By then the gasps of discomfort had became a low, continuous noise, part wail and part growl. She found his cock was hard, beneath her, and she rocked herself against it as she writhed under his smacks.

The little room echoed with the sounds of spanking, and of a girl getting off on being spanked. He could smell her arousal and, he had to admit, she would be able to smell his. But he continued while she writhed under him, until he heard her sniffing, along with that sexual, big cat’s growl. He’d made her cry, perhaps the first time he’d really done so.

But suddenly she raised her upper body and her legs into the air, making a series of inarticulate, blissful cries as she ground herself on his hard fulcrum. At last she stilled, her body relaxed over his knee. She said, “Oh, Seamus, thank you, thank you, Sensei.”

Seamus said, “You’re not very easy to punish, are you?”

She said, “Oh, yes I am. Very easy, for you.”

“Hah. Next time I think I’ll use a thumbscrew.”

“Is that something Western? For schoolgirls? I’d like that!”

He smacked her bottom again. “I wouldn’t put it past you. But get dressed now, Yua. And for god’s sake wear your uniform and do your homework.”

“Or you’ll spank me and make me come again. Hai, Sensei.”

“Ok, you’re done. Get up and get dressed, Yua.” 

She slipped off his knee, but crouched before him, looking at the erection she’d recently made use of. “But … I’d like to please you too. You pleased me very much.” 

Seamus shook his head. “Next class, girl.” 

So she dressed, wiggling slightly more than that process really required, kissed him, and skipped away.

Seamus was still seated. He stood up at last, willing his cock to go down. He wasn’t sure he’d won that round.

 

  

Masturbation Monday: I endorse this plan

Roland put his hand on Teresa’s back. His cock pressed against her right thigh. He was very hard. Most of his mind had turned off, too, she expected.

He said, “Of course this is going to hurt. If it didn’t it wouldn’t be real, and it wouldn’t be sexy. So I mean to hurt you, Teresa O’Sullivan. Hurt you personally and particularly and deliberately. If I went lighter it’d just be mildly painful and feel kind of annoying. But if I go harder, your body responds to it. You won’t feel it as pain at all. Ok?”

He let her see his hand, suspended until she replied. She frowned. “That… might be right.” 

He held eye contact with her while his hand landed again across her arse, which was – if his phone camera hadn’t lied – already a blazing red. She could feel its heat. He leant down and kissed her ear.

He whispered, “So don’t you bother complaining that it hurts. Unless you want to turn me on.”

“Mmm. You’re such a cruel boy.”

He put his hand on her back to hold her down, and smacked her hard on the tops of her thighs, adding eleven very fast, very hard smacks while she wailed and squirmed.

“I don’t need to hear from you again, Teresa, until you thank me for your spanking when I’m finished.”

Teresa nodded, bowing her head. The explanation of why a hard spanking hurts less than a mild one was, she knew, Roland’s style. He liked a well informed submissive. But now he was being sexy billionaire Julian again, a man who never apologised and never explained. He pressed one hand just below the nape of her neck, holding her down across his desk while he resumed her spanking.

For a long time the room echoed with the sharp sound of Roland’s hard hand on Teresa’s soft, rounded, flesh and her laboured breathing and her occasional mews, which might have been little cries of pain, or pleasure, or both.

At about what she judged – she wasn’t counting – was the ninetieth or possibly hundredth spank he stopped.Teresae said nothing. She’d found herself, at last, in a strange, floating world of her own, an erotic world in which there was only a continuous heat and knowledge of her own acceptance of that.

It seemed an far away and unimportant fact, that he’d stopped spanking her.

She was aware of events – he pulled out the top drawer of the desk and took out a bottle of lubricant, pouring the gel liberally onto his forefinger and index finger – but she hardly thought of them as having importance to her. Until he pressed against her anal ring, and after a pause and a little more pressure she opened and admitted his fingers. She was still floating after her spanking, and very relaxed.

It felt pleasant and oddly comforting, though in a sense it was far away, barely connected to her. There was nothing Roland could do, just then, that she wouldn’t accept. She had abandoned herself to trust in him. He let the two fingers enter to the second knuckle, spreading the lube inside until she was slick and his fingers moved easily. Then he removed them, coated them again, and re-entered her.

This time Teresa’s eyes opened, and she made a languorous sound. “You’re going to fuck my arse. And give me your come. I, uh, endorse this plan. Oh! And thank-you-for-my-spanking, sir…”

Masturbation Monday: Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream

Something clicked in Teresa’s mind as she bent over her desk. She opened her eyes and mouth. In the book beside her bed, Tessa’s Duties, by Cerise Nates, the dominant billionaire Julian had called virginal secretary Tessa ‘little minx’, just like Roland had called her now. And that phrase, ‘Stretch your arms out sideways, and don’t move them’: that was word for word from her favourite passage.

She glared back at him, but without rising from his desk. “Hey! You bastard, you did read my books! You read Tessa’s Task! Are you being Julian?”

“I haven’t read Tessa’s Task.” She suspected that’d be true, though misleading. He’d only had have time to read a page and a half of it.

But it was her favourite page and a half. She guessed that Roland wanted her to have the experience of something she’d thought of, magically coming true. So she was generous to him, and didn’t call him on it. He smacked her again, harder. “It’s time you had a proper spanking, girl.”

“I’ve already had one! You just spanked me, remember?” It was odd having this defiant conversation with her nipples and nose obediently pressed against the wooden desktop. “And that was on the most tenuous excuse I’ve ever heard.” 

“Teresa, I said a proper spanking. You’ve had the first half. When you’ve had the second half, then you can say you’ve had a proper spanking.”

But he followed that nonsense by putting his hands back on her bottom, and dug his thumbs into the balled muscles, reaching and pressing into tension spots.

Teresa said, “Oof”, then moaned softly. The nonsense he sometimes spoke was only nonsense, but his touch was real and it felt good.

After a couple of minutes of firm massage he stroked in the deep valley between her buttocks, very lightly touching her cunt. Teresa closed her eyes and moaned while he ran his fingertips along her lips, getting them wet. She was wetter. She asked, “Is this the proper spanking?” She tried, for comedy purposes, to make it sound as if she hoped so.  

Roland only smacked her, hard, making that pistol-shot sound of palm on flesh. “This is a proper spanking.” He smacked her again, still hard, on the other side. “Now keep your arse up, Teresa. You look hot like that, and you know it. Also, you want to give me a perfect target.”

“Please don’t hurt me. Not … too much. Sir.” Her voice was little. Her voice sounded little to her, and she was surprising herself. Teresa didn’t know, just then, whether she was play-acting or if the spanks she’d already had, and the commands she’d already obeyed, with the promise of many more of both to come, had let her drift into a smaller, less powerful state of mind. There are pleasures in helplessness. Teresa decided to let go, turn off her mind and float, discovering and exploring downstream.

Masturbation Monday: The orgasmic arch

Philip laughed. He wasn’t mocking her, as she was mocking him. He was just happy. He pulled her a little higher in the bed, so her face was in kissing range of Chetana’s cunt. He shuffled with her, so he still had his thighs under, positioning her bottom up and posed. Chetana put her hand on the back of Jayavardhini’s head, then took her ears. “Come on, little one.”

Jayavardhini wriggled her arms out of Philip’s grip and brought them forward to slide under Chetana’s ass. She lowered her head and touched her tongue to Chetana’s cunt, just touching her lips. Then she took her tongue away, so that Chetana opened her mouth and let her head fall back, and then pressed forward, tongue touching her lover again. 

Jayavardhini smiled when Chetana gasped, and Philip’s hand landed on her bottom, again. This was a good game: she was pleasing Chetana, her lover, and Philip, who she expected to call her lover soon. And in her apparent submission she was the centre of attention in that bed, and she held more than her share of the power.

Chetana sighed, pleasured, and Jayavardhini rewarded her, licking along the outside of her cunt, from bottom to top. Then she pressed her tongue a little harder, opening her lover and tasting her. She could taste Philip too, it seemed. She supposed she’d have to get used to thinking of Chetana as one of her lovers. Plural.

Philip had his hand on her ass, squeezing firmly where he’d smacked. He smacked her twice, left side then right, his hand hard. And good. She lost her rhythm with Chetana, but gained in passion. He set up his own rhythm now, spanking her slow and long, the impacts but not getting harder, nor faster. She was being taken on a ride.

Chetana, under her mouth, was wet and soft, a surrender of a different kind. She kissed Chetana’s cunt, wanting her to feel her love as well as her desire to please her, then licked her sweet, opened flesh, moving a little faster.

She felt Philip’s hand on her ass, hurting her in the knowledge that that she would turn any pain he gave her into sex. Chetana gasped again, under her tongue. Philip smacked Jayavardhini’s ass a little harder, and then again. She surrendered her body and part of her soul to him, letting him do what he wanted, trusting that she would love it whatever it might be.

Chetana leaned back, caressing Jayavardhini’s face with her thighs, as she worked. Philip increased the speed, though not the severity of her spanking. He must be watching the two of them; she could feel his erection pushing into her hip.

She knew that if she were not so aroused, his spanking would be hurting by now. He was spanking her smartly, the way he might if he ever intended to punish her, and she let him. But the blows brought her no pain. Only a long, continuous wave of lust.

Her fingers tightened on Chetana’s muscular buttocks, digging into her flesh, intending to hurt her. Chetana gasped in response, then stayed vocal, cooing her pleasure. She was going to come soon.

Jayavardhini focussed her tonguing on her lover’s clitoris, pulling her right hand from under Chetana’s ass to insert two fingers into her cunt. They entered easily; Chetana was so soft, so wet. Jayavardhini pushed those fingers upwards, and pressed and lapped her harder with her tongue.

Philip was landing his hand on her ass hard and fast now, and the rhythm was right for Jayavardhini to stay with it as she face-fucked Chetana. She increased the pressure on Chetana’s clitoris, and felt her tense suddenly. Chetana’s back arched, so Jayavardhini had to follow as her bottom lifted from the bed. Chetana screamed, her pleasure sounding like the darkest grief, as if she were being tortured.

Jayavardhini kissed her cunt and said, “Ooh, my love.”

But Philip’s hand landed again on her ass, much harder than before, and she yelped. The sound of his slap echoed in the cabin, and he growled, “Don’t you dare stop.” Jayavardhini returned to her task, tonguing Chetana, and slipped two fingers into her ass. Chetana screamed again, then her head fell back and her body slipped forward, relaxed. Jayavardhini kissed her navel, then the ribs between her breasts.

Chetana opened her eyes at last and stretched, then wrapped her legs round Jayavardhini and held her hair in her hands. “Thank you. Thank you, both of you. I love you. Both of you.”

Wicked Wednesday: The desk warmed by Jennifer’s body

This is episode X of what evolved and expanded to become that very erotic and engrossing ebook, Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 3: Trying to be a Good Girl.

In this episode, something incredibly steamy happens, but I’ll tell you what it is later. (Tech issues to fix first.)

Unfortunately, I’ve had to remove the actual text, because this excellent and very sexy book is about to be submitted for sale through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple Books, 24symbols, Angus and Robinson, tolino, Rakuten Kobo and Vivlio. Very soon I’ll give you a link to a page where you can choose your favoured book supplier. Come back now!