Bedroom Eyes 32

Stephanie, now blessed with the slave name scallop, stood naked with her feet apart, her hands on her head. She watched, because I’d allowed it, Maires, who was both her Mistress and her sister submissive, sucking her Master’s cock.

As that Master, it felt good being in Maires’s warm, wet and busy mouth, but I’d already come in both of them, more than once, in that long and eventful evening and night. My cock was not rising to the occasion. Finally, I took a handful of Maires’s hair, pulled her head up to mine and kissed her.

She straddled my thigh then, and rubbed her wet self on me. She was a horny slavegirl, stuck with an exhausted Master.

I smiled at her, and glanced at Stephanie, only my eyes moving, not my head. She caught that and nodded: “Yes, what about her?”, her look meant.

I said, “Don’t stop, Maires. You have my permission to come on my thigh whenever you’re ready.”

She closed her eyes and worked harder. “Thank you, Master.”

I looked at Stephanie. “Scallop.”

“Yes, Master?” There was hope in her voice: she was going to be included at last!

“I want you to go to the kitchen and make a two-egg omelette for Maires and me. With two pieces of toast. One plate, two sets of knives and forks. And two glasses of OJ. You are not allowed to have food or drink yourself. You’re not to sneak a drink or, I don’t know, a biscuit. Nothing for you.”

Her face became very serious. She thought that idea, especially the words “nothing for you”, was hot.”Yes, Master. May scallop leave the room?”

“You’ve been given an order, scallop. Try to use your brains. Hurry up!”

“Yes, Master.” Stephanie turned, hands still on her head, and opened the door, which was slightly ajar, with her foot. She left. Shortly I heard cupboard draws and the fridge opening and the start of food-assembly noises.

Maires looked at me, still undulating on my thigh. “Are you going to fuck Stephanie – I mean Scallop – again tonight?”


“Is she going to be allowed to come?”


She paused, then pressed against me harder. “God. She’ll feel that worse than the cane. Or the crop. Are you punishing her?”


“You think this is what she wants. I couldn’t stand being ignored. You’re being cruel.”

“Thank you! She’s a different kind of submissive from you. You, you like surrendering, you like some carefully applied pain, and you like to serve.”

“Get all that in one package, and I’ll call him Master.”

“I’m very, very lucky and happy to have you, But she needs something different.”

“I can feel it. When I rode her and made her do me in the bathroom, I was playing. At least I still had the part of my mind that watches and makes sure everything’s safe. But she was a hundred per cent into it; she didn’t hold anything back. She really does want to be your possession. And mine too.”

Having said that she sped up. Her face took on an expression I knew: she was close to coming. I said, “This is a longer-term game, and I’ll need your help. But until tomorrow evening Stephanie is nothing, nothing to you or me except a useful slave. Then we’re going to take her really hard, and she’ll scream the house down when she comes.”

Maires grinned then. “I suppose she’s a lucky girl then, even if I’d go mental if you treated me like that. What do I do to help, Master?”

“You don’t touch her. No punishment, no pleasure, no affection. Keep your hands off her. But you can use her like a slightly useful, not at all sexy robot. If you’re reading, you tell her to come and turn the page for you; things like that. In the morning you’ll tell her to scrub the bathroom, from floor to ceiling.”

“Then I have to find something she did wrong? So I can punish her?”

“It doesn’t have to be fair. Just tell her it’s not good enough. Then cane her till she cries, and a bit more after that.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“Not fucking her after I punish her: that’s going to be hard. Scallop gets so yummy, just so turned on and confused and hot when she takes discipline. But then I’m the shallow slavegirl; she’s the deep one. After I’ve caned her I unleash her on the kitchen, right?”

“Yes. I’ll set her some tasks too. But she also has to spend some time just watching us have fun, without being allowed to join in. Then at seven we lovebomb her. Lots of love and fucks. And we can tell her the truth about how wonderful we think she is.”

Maires, still using my thigh as her sex toy, stared into my eyes, puzzled at first, but her expression slowly cleared. “Did you plan everything with me like that?”

“I had to get an idea of what you like first. But pretty much. Yes.”

“God.” Then she closed her eyes. Her pussy pressed hard on my leg, and she stopped moving. Her knees and feet were in the air. her hands clutched my shoulder while she lifted her face and upper body. She yowled into the air, then said, “god. Fuck. Thank you, Master.”

There was an oddly flat sound at the door, as if Stephanie was using an object to knock on the door. “Master? Mistress? May scallop enter the room?”

I said, as if I was angry, “You were told to bring us food, scallop. Can you do that without coming in?”

“Of course not, Master. Sorry, Master.”

“Stupid girl.”

The door opened, and scallop – I suppose I should call her that when she really isn’t being Stephanie – entered, with an omelette place, glasses, knives and forks on a tray. I bit back the urge to smile or tell her she was a good girl. “Put the tray on the bed, scallop.”

“Yes, Master.” She put the tray down and looked at me, hoping for praise. Or punishment. Both would be welcome.

“Get down on all fours, scallop. Hands and knees. Keep your back straight. Don’t move.”

Her eyes showed that she’d worked out that she was about to be our table. “Yes, Master.” She dropped to the floor, and presented her back as a slightly curved but, after adjustment, essentially horizontal surface.

Scallop’s bottom and legs were red, with stripes from cane and crop emerging from the generalised blotch left by her spankings. Some of the riding crop stripes Maires had applied to her legs while the two girls were playing horsey would probably bruise. But she was beautiful furniture.

Maires left the bed and picked up the tray. She set the dinner things out on scallop’s presented back. I nodded at her, and she sat herself cross-legged at scallop’s side, facing me.

She touched nothing, not food and not scallop. She said, “Dinner is served, Master.”

Bedroom Eyes 31

I entered Maires’s ass, easily. Maires was turned on and relaxed, and Stephanie was trying to show she was a good girl: told to lubricate Maires’s ass, she’d been diligent. I pressed forward, less abrupt than I sometimes am. I was in a gentle, loving mood.

Maires usually prefers me to be a Dom who makes things happen, and if some of them hurt, that’s more than OK. Steph also seemed to prefer me to be a hard man, not just in terms of my cock, but in my conduct towards her.

Being loving was self-indulgence, and too much would make them both unhappy.

So gentleness is not an unmixed blessing, but I felt loving towards them both. Slowly and reprehensibly gently I fucked Maires’s ass, my hands on hers as she grabbed a handful of the bottom sheet and some mattress protector, my cock hard but moving comfortably, I hoped comfortingly, in her rectum. 

Maires put her calves and ankles on mine as I buggered her, so I knew she was starting to feel the emotion behind this. I kissed her shoulderblade, and reached back and smacked the side of her ass, so that she could know all was well in the world. We moved together after that, Maires tightening her rectal muscles as I withdrew and relaxing as I pushed forward. I’d trained her to do that, long ago, with a lot of use of the riding crop and cane, but she knew what was right, now. We made love.

Stephanie watched us fucking. I’m sure she desired us both, and we made a stirring, hot, sight: a gentle, sensual buttfuck. But she was left out.

This was an odd thing. I wanted her to feel excluded and only a spectator to pleasure, because I believed she would discover that that sensation confirmed her deeply enslaved status, and therefore it’d be sexual for her.

That was my goal, but doing that sort of thing is always a risk. I desperately didn’t want to make her genuinely unhappy. I just wanted her to find an even deeper level of submission to fall into and occupy.

Ignoring Stephanie’s sexual wants was my way of giving her love. I don’t say that to make excuses: it was what I hoped I was doing, and that she’d take pleasure in. She’d showed herself to be more deeply submissive than Maires was, and I was trying to make her happy by putting her in a position that objectively seemed miserable. BDSM is about emotion, and it’s rarely simple.

Maires said, “Fuck, fuck me, fuck,” low and gutteral in her throat. In answer I smacked her again, harder, and sped up. Now we were fucking like a Master and slave, faster, and she began to squeal, while I made deeper, bear-growl noises.

Maires gasped, “Can I come, Master?”, and I shook my head, then remembered to say no.

Eventually, when I was ready to come in her, I said, “Yes, girl: now!” and she was wailing, beautiful and distraught, before I’d come.

Afterwards we were both out of breath, and Maires rolled onto her side, dislodging me. She was still puffing when she said, “I really want your cock, Master. Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

I said, “Jesus, Maires. I mean, yes, but I doubt if I’ll be up again for …”

Then I remembered Stephanie. I was being cruel to Stephanie, and I hoped she was enjoying that, even though I wasn’t touching her. I said, “Scallop.” That was her new slavename, given her no more than half an hour ago.

“Yes, Master?”

“Your Mistress wants to suck my cock. So clean my cock first, Scallop. Warm wet cloth. Fast!”

“Of course, Master!” She meant, I can do so much more than that: why don’t you tell me to? But she hurried to the bathroom, Maires and I both watching her cane-striped bottom as she moved.

Maires put her hand on Stephanie’s face when she returned, rubbing my cock with the toweling cloth in a way she hoped I might find worth my attention. When she’d finished the cleaning part of her task, though she showed no desire to stop, I knocked Maires’s hand away and said, “Back to your place, Scallop.”

She was disappointed, I knew, but she obeyed. “Yes, Master.” She stood alone, naked, legs parted, hands on head. Of course she was beautiful, and Maires and I were both in love with her. But Maires had begun to understand what I was doing. She ignored Stephanie, and lowered her head to take me in her mouth.

Two lovers made love. Stephanie, the third, stood apart, alone. Neglected, though she was the centre of my attention and perhaps Maires’s. I had to take it on faith that this was hot for her.

But her ordeal would have to last a while yet.

Bedroom Eyes 30

I said, “Good.” Stephanie was still breathing hard from my fingers in and then clasping her cunt. I hadn’t been trying to give her pleasure, but she was in a state where it would be impossible for her to take any contact as anything but sexual, and welcome. “There’s something else you need to learn.

“Yes, Master?”

Maires had shown me that Stephanie wanted to go much further and deeper into submission that Maires wanted, or I had expected from her. So it was my job to help her drop. “You’re not to call yourself Stephanie any more. Understand?”

She was puzzled. “Yes, Master?”

“I’m going to name you after your cunt. That’s the most interesting thing about you, little slave, so it can be the whole of your new identity.” I slipped a forefinger into that interesting organ and said, “Tighten. Hard as you can.”

“Yes, Master.”

She obeyed as best she could. I said, “Reasonable control. I’m sure we’ll teach you better in future. Nicely wet, as you’d expect from a worthless girl who needs whipping. But you’ll get the whipping you need often, won’t you?”

“Stephanie was pleased to be promised that. “Yes, Master.”

Often. I promise you. Your vaginal muscles are strong, though your Master and Mistress, we’ll both train them. So … we’ll call you -“

From the wall Maires said, “Permission to speak, Master?”

“Denied, Maires. If I want to hear from you I’ll ask you to speak. If I have to tell you that again, you’ll find your arse matching this slave’s.” Maires closed her eyes. Then she nodded.

This was to happen without her input, as so much of what she’;d done with Stephanie had happened without mine. I turned my attention back to Stephanie, and smacked her cunt hard with the tip of the crop. She gasped, but did not speak.

“Yes. Your name is Scallop. You’re named after your cunt. From now on, with Maires or me, you will call yourself only Scallop. Not ‘Stephanie’, obviously, but no ‘I’ or ‘me’ or ‘mine’ either. In your mind you are Scallop, when you’re with either of us. You use that name and no other, and no pronouns. Understood?”

“Yes, Master. Scallop understands.”

I wanted to smile, hug her and tell her she was good, and beautiful, and loved. But I knew that would break a spell, and this spell shouldn’t break: not for Stephanie.

“Good. You can be Stephanie in company. But if I hear any name but Scallop from you when we’re together, you’ll find that Maires has quite a gentle touch with the riding crop, compared to your Master.”

Wide-eyed, Stephanie nodded. “Yes Master. I am Scallop.” Then she looked shocked and put her hands to her mouth, hoping to take those words back. “Scallop is sorry, Master. Scallop meant, Scallop knows her name. It’s a good name, if Scallop is allowed to say so.”

I took her nipple and pinched it until pain showed in her face. “Maires?”

“Yes, Master?”

“Give Scallop six of the best. With the cane, please.”

Maires came away from the wall and took the cane from its place on the bed. She looked at Stephanie. “Scallop, you know what to do.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Stephanie turned so her back was to me, and bent over, grabbing her ankles.

“Sorry, Scallop, that won’t do. From now on, when you bend over for punishment you touch your toes.”

Stephanie had to grunt and bend her knees very slightly to adopt the required position. I said, “You’ll practice every day till you can do that properly.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Maires.” Maires applied the cane hard, and drew a loud squealing cry from Stephanie with every stroke. When the punishment was delivered I said, “Scallop, that wasn’t a punishment, it was just a warning. You don’t have the right to use your old name, or pronouns with us. Don’t get that wrong again, or it’ll be me who deals with it.”

“No, Master.” A tear, shed during her caning, had reached her lip and she caught it with her tongue. “Thank you for my lesson, Master and Mistress.”

It was hard not saying she was a good girl. But I said, “Put the cane in the wardrobe, Scallop, and bring me the lube. I’m going to buttfuck your Mistress. Would you like to watch?”

For the first time since she’d crawled into the room she smiled. “Yes please, Master.”

Maires grinned. “You’d rather get buttfucked yourself, wouldn’t you, little Scallop?”

Stephanie had to think. This was a complicated sentence, with many chances to accidentally use a forbidden word. “Scallop would like Scallop’s Master’s cock, wherever he wants to put it. In Scallop. Up Scallop’s arse would be … Yes, please.”

I said, “From now on you only get pleasure when you’ve deserved it, Scallop. So you may have to wait.”

“Yes, Master. Scallop understands.”

“But Maires, hands and knees on the bed. Scallop, lube your Mistress. Thoroughly.”

So Maires took her place, aiming her ass at me, and made a sound that was almost like purring as Stephanie squeezed out lube and worked it inside her rectum, coating those muscles thoroughly, over and again.

“All right, Scallop. Step back a metre, and you’re not to touch yourself. In fact, hands on head.”

“Yes, Master.”

I crawled forward on the bed, cock pointing at Maires’s arse. I put my hand on her hip.

[To be continued]


Wicked Wednesday: Jennifer learns about Maddie

Two women, one younger, one older, recognise each other and their complicated but urgent desires.

It’s a hot scene, but it’s published now, and publishers don’t like things they publish to be also be available free on the internet.I’ll put up a link to where you can buy a book with this hot scene in it, shortly. 



Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 7


The previous episode is here

The story so far is that I took my slavegirl Arethusa to the local bdsm club, Club Bento, after months of begging.

I’m running this “Arethusa and the late essay” pic again, because I’m quite proud of my aim and spacing.

It took months because I was monitoring her university work, and she kept fucking up and having to be caned, and then grounded. Finally, she was good, handing in all essays and studying for her tests, for a whole month! A Master’s life is hard, but at last I could reward her! 

We met Delores there, an ex of mine, who was showing the club to a girl called Cash, who turned out to be yet another ex. 

Cash was Qing, when I’d first known her, and she was still dressing like a mainlander Chinese girl from a small city. Because back then she was. (You should hear what diaspora Chinese say about mainlanders. Hollywood writers being rude about the deep South doesn’t even come close.) 

In the years since we’d lost touch she’d transformed herself into a zippy, leatherette, platinum blonde bobbed style icon, who moved at twice the speed of everyone else, though I bet she had less amphetamine in her system than most people there. 

They hadn’t actually kissed yet (they would later, in Arethusa’s and my kitchen and bed), but this was on their minds five or so seconds after they’d met

So we all met, and I introduced Arethusa to Delores and Cash. Cash and Arethusa contracted a case of lust at first sight, while Arethusa and Delores didn’t hit it off.

I took Arethusa into the dark part of the club, to feed her champagne while fingering her under her tutu, keeping her close to coming but not giving permission.

Delores went looking for a man to bruise and fuck her. Cash picked up a girl on the dancefloor, and dragged her off to the women’s toilets to facefuck her up against the wall. Then Cash went back to gthe dancing, followed by the girl, who was smitten, and then by the girl’s master, who sensed a threesome.

Cash didn’t want any part of his body anywhere near her body, but she wanted to be polite, for the girl’s sake more than his. So she said she’d love to, but she’d have to get permission from her Mistress.

Now read on.

The Kiss 7

Delores (now we’re following this story from her point of view again) was also a girl who’d come from a small town, but she’d never re-packaged herself as a big-city girl the way Cash had.

She still thought it weird that girls might want sexy stuff with girls, when there are men around. She had many lesbian and gay friends, who loved her and who she loved. She genuinely was not a bigot. It was just she had no perspective from which same-sex desire made any sense to her. 

Similarly, she was submissive and that’s that. She was assertive in her life, with her children and her work and so on, but in a bdsm context she couldn’t switch to save her life. She could no more spank another submissive, or give one an order, than she could flap her arms and fly.  

Cash kissing Delores (Cash’s perspective)

So she was a bit taken aback when Cash raced up to her, kissed her passionately on the lips, and whispered, “I’m going to call you Mistress and ask you for something. You have to answer no. Save my life. Ok? Just say no!” 

So Delores wiped the girl-kiss off her lips, and said, “Just say no… What? To drugs?” 

But the dazed girl and her Master arrived. Out loud, Cash said, “Mistress, darling Mistress, can I please go off with these two tonight?” 

So Delores, still thoroughly confused, saw the girl and her Master, there waiting for her permission, which gave her an inkling of the problem. So she gathered up all her wits, and said in the most Dommely voice she could manage, “No.”

Cash whined, “Pleeeeease?”

“No. No, you may not go off with… these two tonight.” It was the most unconvincing domme voice ever heard, according to both Delores’s and Cash’s account, but it was enough to disappoint the dazed girl and her Master. They were sad, but they knew they’d won Cash over, and their threesome had only been thwarted by the despotic and arbitrary rulings of a jealous and mean ol’ Domme.

At least, they thought they knew that, and that made them feel better. So they slunk back onto the dancefloor, and paid more attention to each other. They’d both just been certified sexy, by an independent party. The girl more than her Master, but his honour was satisfied. 

Meanwhile Delores was still giving Cash the thousand-yard stare. “What,” she asked, “the buggering hell was that about?” 

Cash kissing Delores (Delores’s perspective)

So Cash explained, the pick-up on the dancefloor had led to Cash fucking the girl with her face, in the women’s toilets, and the girl’s Master wanting Cash to go off with them, and she didn’t want the Master to get shitty with his girl because she’d scored with Cash and he hadn’t.

So she’d done the right thing to get everybody out of a difficult situation.

And hey, thanks for your help, Delores, that “no” of yours was really powerful, just like the real thing. 

But Delores hadn’t got past the “face-fuck in the toilets” part of Cash’s story yet. “And… you kissed me with THAT mouth?” 

[The End.]


Another note:

Obviously, that’s where that story has to end. More events happened, when Arethusa and Cash and I went off together a bit later, and our night together. That was a steamy night, and some time it’ll make a good story too. In a different way. 

But next Wicked Week, I’m going back to fiction, and Maddie’s saga with her Wicked Headmaster. 


Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 6


The previous instalment of this story is here. But we finished with Cash having girl on girl sex kisses with another girl on the dancefloor, then racing her off into the Women’s toilets. 

Because Delores didn’t go in after them, we’re going to switch to Cash’s point of view for the next half hour or so of this story. 

Cash in the Women’s

Cash had a starry-eyed girl in tow, hand in hand. The wide-eyed girl had never done anything girl on girl before, but music, dance, alcohol and Cash’s irresistible energy had turned her on, massively, and she was very keen to experience whatever happened next.  

Cash had liked Arethusa, and fancied her. The knowledge that she was invited into Arethusa’s and my bed, some time early in the morning, or later that night, was exciting too. But in the meantime she had a pretty girl, obviously submissive, wanting her attention. So she grabbed the girl’s hair at the back of her head and kissed her again. 

There were other women passing, so the couple pashing near the door were a bit on display. A sort of tasteful centerpiece.

Club Bento isn’t the sort of place where anyone, including straight women, will mind the sight of two pretty girls making out. So the starry-eyed girl got compliments for being a good girl for her Mistress.

Cash never even asked that girl’s name, and never knew it, but she did know that the girl was finding the compliments mildly humiliating and hot as fuck, all at once. So she upped the ante and pushed her up against the wall. She flipped up the girl’s little tartan skirt, and pulled her panties down. The girl closed her eyes. Once the panties were at her knees, Cash pushed them down to her ankles with her boot, and kissed her again, with her hand on, and then partly in, her cunt. 

Club Bento isn’t a sex-on-premises venue, by the way. If a bouncer had found them they’d have been thrown out for putting the club’s licence at risk.

But the bouncers didn’t go into the loos, or the seating in the dark where the girl next to me had just sucked her Master off, and I was using Arethusa as my cunt-puppet, still at the edge of coming with three of my fingers in her, but not allowed to come. Or make a sound. 

Cash stroked the girl, who was now wild-eyed and trembling, until she was nearly ready. At the last second she dropped to her knees, and finished the girl off with her tongue and lips, getting her face quite thoroughly wet. Eventually the girl moaned, then shouted, her arms flat against the wall as if she were being crucified, and she fell forward, onto Cash’s back, moaning, stroking her and calling her mistress. 

But Cash was done, for now. She stood up, kissed the girl, face shiny-wet with her fluids, and helped her with her panties. She said, “You’re really cool! And fucking pretty! But I’ve got to dance now.” 

Cash left, and the girl followed her out: she was a bit dazed, and she wanted more of that sort of thing. And she, the girl, bumped into her Master, who’d seen her go into the toilets with another girl, and knew something good was happening that he wasn’t part of. But now the two girls were out, and one of them was his submissive, and there was another girl with her. He knew he had a threesome lined up. 

His idea was on these lines, except he’d need a bigger shirt

But he didn’t. He was a little softer-bellied than Cash liked, and he had unfashionable hair. So this dom spanked his submissive, standing up, for going off without him. And then he said to Cash, “Come with us.” He was using the command voice to someone who hadn’t submitted to him, and for Cash that absolutely confirmed his complete unfuckability.

The scene in the toilets may make Cash seem a little heartless, but she’s not that at all. She was just living in the moment. So she knew that if she turned the guy down, he’d take it out on his girl, and she’d have a horrible night instead of the brilliant one she’d been having until then. 

She remembered seeing Delores, just before going into the toilets. “Yes, that’d be great,” she said, politely. “I’ll just ask have to ask my Mistress for permission.” 

[To be continued]

Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 5

The story so far…

I take my loved slave Arethusa to Club Bento, a bdsm nightclub. I meet an ex-submissive of mine, Delores, who is showing the club to Cash, who turns out also to be an ex of mine. 

(If you spend enough time being a really dedicated slut, as I had been before Arethusa, then the chances of you having had sex with at least two or three people in any given nightclub in your city starts to approach 100%. The same applies to bdsm sex and bdsm nightclubs.) 

Eye contact? Not _always_

Arethusa and Cash eye each other off, and it’s agreed, non-verbally, that Cash, Arethusa and I are bound for my bed, some time in the early hours of the morning. But Cash goes off dancing, then Delores goes looking for a dom to bruise and fuck her that evening. Arethusa and I go and get lovey-dovey in a dark area where there are seats and, in our case, champagne. 

But now this story will follow Delores for a while.

Now read on…

Delores still had her glass of champagne, because she wasn’t really much of a drinker. Still, it made her look elegant, and gave her something to do with her hands while she looked around. 

Bedroom eyes. Leather panz. What more do you want?

A young man came over, dressed in tight leather pants that squeaked when he walked. His name was Marty, and he’d wanted to be her Master once. She’d been interested, until he’d tied her up and flogged her far harder than she’d agreed to. When she’d told him to stop, he’d said he was punishing her, so safewords didn’t count. When he released her, he told her she’d been a good girl. She’d slapped him hard, and told him to fuck right off. 

But here he was, with one hand on her shoulder, turning her round. “Hey, Delores!” He made to kiss her. 

Arethusa isn’t afraid of men, because she’d never been with one who’d wanted to harm her. But Delores has had a different life. She isn’t afraid of men because she’d experienced the worst, the very worst, they can do. She said, “I haven’t told many people what a pathetic, sick little fuck you are. I need to fix that. And if you don’t get your hand off me and fuck off in two seconds, you fucked-up little coward, I’m calling a bouncer.”

He went from scowl to smile in about a second. “Jesus, Mary-Jo, chill out for god’s sake. I’m just sayin hello.”

Mary-Jo was her given name, which she’d rejected. Marty was insulting her by using it, but in a deniable way. He was a passive-aggressive, whiny little sadist. When the two seconds were up and Marty was still there, she shouted, “Hey, Ron!” Ron the bouncer, not a small man, headed her way.

Marty snarled, “Crazy fucking bitch” and disappeared into the crowd in the dark.

Ron arrived. “”Hey, Delorry, you ok?” 

“I’m ok. Keep an eye on that little shit who was pestering me. And…” 

“Yep?” Ron, a sensible man, remembered Delores, liked her and trusted her judgment. 

“He’s a non-consent player.” Ron bristled. They give bdsm, and doms in particular, a bad name. But he said nothing, waiting. “If you see him getting lucky with anyone, it’d be a favor to all womankind if you fucked up his night.” 

“Ok. Done. Thanks for the tip. I don’t think he’s coming in here again. I mean, he can do what he likes, but he’s not getting in the door.” 

“Good.” Delores tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek. He clutched the spot, as if overcome. He smiled and, as he was walking away, turned and blew her a kiss.

Scuse fingers. (And no orgasms allowed.)

So that was a good outcome, she thought, but Marty had fucked up her mood for a bit. She looked for me, but I was kissing Arethusa with my hand under her tutu, and Arethusa was squirming nicely. She wasn’t allowed to come, and she was wondering about begging, with another Master and his slavegirl sitting so close. I slipped a third finger into her.

So Delores looked for Cash, instead. She turned around (I hadn’t seen her), and went to check the dancefloor. 

Girls, eh. What can you do?

And so she saw Cash on the edge of the dancefloor, kissing another girl, with the girl pushed a little back and Cash’s hand on her arse. Cash had kissed many girls; the other girl hadn’t. This was new for her: twenty-one and never been kissed. Not by a girl, anyway. But it was an intense, sex kiss. 

Delores, for all her many virtues, doesn’t really see that girl-on-girl can be a real thing, so she approached them instead. But before she’d got in range, Cash had grabbed the girl’s hand and was pulling her, she following very willingly, into the women’s toilets.  

[To be continued.]


Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 4

So the four of us swayed together, Arethusa and Cash, Delores and me. Arethusa was my current slave, Cash had never been a slave, but I’d introduced her to bdsm, in a relationship that lasted one night. We’d both wanted more, but circumstances were against us. It seemed we were about to have more. And Arethusa and Cash were new to each other, and fancied each other with all the power that comes from newness. 

Delores was my ex too, but she didn’t fancy girls at all. So she wasn’t for threesomes, or foursomes. Anyway, she wouldn’t fuck a man who wasn’t single, and I clearly wasn’t that. So our kiss was more affectionate. I had lots of things to ask her about how she’d been since we’d last met, which was a few months ago now. 

But it was Cash who broke the foursome. The dj had put on Daft Punk’s Get Lucky, and her ass needed to bop to it. She tried to drag Arethusa and me onto the floor, but Arethusa didn’t like electronica much, and I liked staying with Arethusa. So Cash raced back into the mix of dancers. 

So we watched Cash go, until she was on the dance floor, moving to a rhythm exactly twice as fast as Daft Punk, and I bought champagne for Arethusa, Delores and me. They keep the area around the bar in near pitch-darkness so you can’t see your change. You measure it by weight. They didn’t leave me much to carry, apart from the champagne. 

We talked for a while, the three of us. Delores and Arethusa were very different people, and they didn’t find much in common. Except me, I guess. I got the latest news from Delores, about her family, and whether she’d found a good dom yet. She hadn’t. I made encouraging remarks, but I didn’t have any dom friends I could recommend.

She told Arethusa an anecdote about the time I’d punished her for losing her purse, and how she’d finally stopped being careless after that. 

Arethusa smiled. “He’s good at that.” But I could tell she was finding Delores a little boring. That was a pity.  

Delores hugged me, and shook Arethusa’s hand. “Lovely to meet you. But I’m going to get fucked and bruised tonight. So I’d better do some circulating. See you soon.”

She went into the darker areas on the far side of the dance floor. I looked at Arethusa. “That was rude.” 

“I’m sorry, Master.” She looked down. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s a nice person. I just wanted time with you. On your own.”

“Don’t you want Cash?”

“Um.” She smiled. “Oh yes. She’ll be an ornament to our bed.”

“So what you just said, about just wanting me was bullshit, wasn’t it?”

“Um. Yes. I’m sorry, Master. I suppose I was being a snob.”

“I suppose that too. Hold out your hand.”

“Here?” Then she thought better of protesting. She held out her hand, palm flat upward, while I fished a narrow strip of leather, about a centimetre across, from my pocket. I gave her four strokes on her right hand. It’s a bdsm club. She had quite an audience by the time she got her fourth stroke. Her face clearly showed they’d hurt.

Arethusa isn’t an exhibitionist, but she liked being held in strict control. I said, “Other hand.” 

This time she obeyed quickly and properly, holding out her left hand palm up with a “Yes, Master.” I watched her eyes, and she watched mine while I gave her the next four strokes. 

She waited for permission. I nodded, and she shook her hands, as if she could waggle the pain into the air. Finally she gasped and said, “Thank you, Master.”

“That’s better. Good girl. Now come with me.”

I led her into the seats and tables in the dark. There was a space by the slavegirl who’d been surreptitiously sucking her Master’s cock. She was sitting up now, her task completed. She was immensely proud of herself, and introduced herself cheerfully, and mentioned that she’d caught the last few seconds of Arethusa’s punishment. So they were two good girls together.

They seemed to get on better than she had with Delores. I’d have to ask her later what that had been about. I didn’t think it was jealousy.

Her Master and I congratulated each other on the excellence of our good girls, so that they could hear it. And we talked about where we were from, and he made the joke about the lights around the bar that I used above. After a while, he sent his girl to get more champagne, and we sat back. Arethusa climbed onto my lap. I kissed her. She kissed me. She was happy again. 

In the meantime, Delores about to have a complicated night. So I’m going to leave Arethusa and me in comfort, and follow Delores’s adventures for the next episode or two. 

Don’t do that! 4 [The End]

Cassie put her finger on his nose. “I’m just saying,” she said, “if you want to spank some girl, you ask her, or you let her ask you. Because if she’s into it she probably will ask. One way or another. But remember there’s lots of people who aren’t into it. I just don’t want you to make an idiot of yourself.”

Gavan’s erection still existed, but in a pliable, squishy way. Cassie’s waggle had reminded him of things he’d rather be doing. “So, would you mind then, if I smacked your ass, oh, right about now, probably a little harder?

“Well, not too hard. But sure.”

Though Gavan’s cock had slowly shrunk during this conversation, he was still inside her, just. He reached down and smacked her, six times, slowly, with a lot of caressing and kneading that balled, muscled flesh.

Cassie began to move on him. He would be getting hard in those circumstances in any case. But while his hand on her ass, impacting her, wasn’t as incandescent as the desire he’d felt for Ana, he had to admit it was one of the reasons he was getting harder.

That complicates a lot of things, he thought, like life. Did this mean he’d have to choose his girlfriends by their spankability from now on? But he was ready to thrust hard into Cassie, who seemed happy about that, and he smacked her bottom again. It felt good.

For science! he thought, and then stopped thinking.

[The End]

Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 3

So I was at Club Bento, with my slavegirl Arethusa, with whom I was madly, passionately, in love. I was holding a tiny platinum blonde Chinese girl who’d jumped up on me with her legs round my waist and, because she wasn’t taking much care while she rocked against me, I’d put my hands on her ass to support her. She’d realised by then that I hadn’t recognised her, and that seemed to be hilarious as well. She was still beaming at me.

I looked her. It was her eyes and her mouth that did it. I said, “Qing!”

She kissed me. “Where’ve you been, stranger?”

“I’ve been here. I kept trying to call you, at your house. And I kept getting through to your housemates. Who were grumpy as fuck. And I left messages. Did they get through?”

“Not to me. They were stupid bastards, those people I lived with. And they thought you were that other guy, your asshole friend. So they probably thought they were doing me a good… Anyway, that’s a pity, but… Here we are!”

Er, artist’s impression. Cash still had her knickers on, though tugged down considerably

She fell forward, and we kissed. Eventually, because it seemed like a good idea I pulled her tiny skirt up, and tugged her knickers as far down as they’d go, on a girl who was straddling me. That provided a space of bare bottom that was tempting in every possible way, and in easy reach. I spanked her, hard, six times, while she squealed and hung on.

It seemed like a good idea to set the mood. Before she’d been my possession, Arethusa had been in a relationship with a lucky guy and another girl, and she liked threesomes.

I hadn’t delivered one for us yet. But it seemed likely that this would work out.

Finally I dropped the girl to her feet. “How come you’re calling yourself Cash?”

Cash, as I was getting used to calling her, tugged at her skirt. I smacked her bottom again, and said, “Leave it.”

She dropped her hand, skirt still round her waist, half her bottom bare. “Nickname, darling. Too many people couldn’t pronounce Qing. So they started calling me K-Ching, like a cash register. Then I changed it to Cash. I liked it, so it’s my name.”

“I like it too. Cash, this is Arethusa.”

The two girls looked at each other. Cash pointed her head at me. “You’re with him?” 

Arethusa said, neutrally, “Yes. I’m his property.” 

So Cash hugged her, and said, “Cool! Lovely to meet you! How long have you been together?” 

“About a year. When did you..?” 

“When I was an accountancy student. We’d known each other for about an hour, and by then he’d tied me up, whipped me, fucked me, and then taken my anal, uh, girlhood. So it was just one night, but it was memorable.” 

Arethusa looked at me. Our first night had been roughly similar, except that she’d preserved her anal virginity for another month. I’d taken it with more ceremony than I’d allowed Qing. Arethusa said, “That’s Master, all right.” 

I looked at her. She smiled at me, thank fuck. I pointed at Cash. She nodded.

Strictly, we’d agreed that she was property, and it wasn’t her decision who came to bed with us, or what she did with her body. There was a piece of paper that said that, among other outrageous things, signed by both of us. In reality, of course, a slavegirl is the most wonderful person in the universe to her owner, and no master with a clue wants to make his girl unhappy. 

I said to Cash, “Do you have, um, an owner of any sort?” 

This doesn’t represent reality. It’s a pretty good indicator of what I was thinking, though

She was still looking at Arethusa. They’d reached some sort of understanding. But she shook her head. “I’m more of a top these days. So…” 

I considered that, disappointed for a second. On the other hand, Cash still hadn’t pulled her skirt down, after I’d told her not to. So I pulled her and Arethusa into a hug. And then, though I didn’t expect her to come to bed with us, I reeled in Delores as well. And we held each other, swaying together, and Arethusa and Cash kissed, and, because Delores didn’t kiss girls, I kissed her. 

It was one of the most blessed moments of my life. But I’m going to disappear from this story soon, for a while, anyway. 

[To be continued]


This is the sequel to a story I told a couple of years ago. You can find Qing’s and my first encounter, when she was a very different sort of girl, here. Or you can look for it, under its title, “Mouth to Mouth: Qing’s story”.