Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 19

This is episode 10 of the series that became the ebook Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 2: The Chime of the Bellbird.

In this episode Jennifer finds that having her bare bottom and thighs massaged by the man who just spanked her is the sexist thing she’s experienced in her life, so far. It is relaxing, and yet it … isn’t.

I’ve had to remove the actual text, because this excellent and very sexy book has been published and is on sale at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple Books, 24symbols, Angus and Robinson, tolino, Rakuten Kobo and Vivlio. A link that allows you to choose your favoured book supplier is here.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 124: The meanings of “good girl”

While Lynette fiddled with the camera I swished the bamboo cane a couple of times, letting it speed past Raylene’s ass. The sound and then the wind of it unnerved her, and she flinched, buttocks clenching. Then, knowing that was wrong and possibly punishable, she arched her ass up again. 

“Ready.” Lynette had the camera pointed at me, rather than Raylene. Then she moved it, presumably to frame Raylene’s ass and catch the reaction when the cane actually landed.

Accepting "good girl" is accepting that the dam's judgment is worth heeding. And it means enjoying having his or her approval.

Accepting “good girl” is accepting that the dom’s judgement is worth heeding. And it means enjoying having his or her approval.

I said, “Good girl.”

Lynette frowned. I said, “You know what ‘good girl’ means, don’t you?”

“I know what it means when you say it to Raylene. And I know why it makes Dorabella uncomfortable when you say it to her.”

I glanced at Dorabella, who had her arms pressing down on Raylene’s shoulders. “Dorabella, I say it to you because you’re being good. I mean, helpful. And I mean it as praise.”

Dorabella tightened her robe, so her breasts and a long sliver of her tummy disappeared. “Maybe,”

“And it’s true, a couple of times I’ve been teasing you, because I keep getting the feeling that you’d like – Never mind. That’s probably wishful thinking.”

There's tenderness in that approval, and in sinking into it. But it's a dom's and a submissive's tenderness

There’s tenderness in that approval, and in sinking into it. But it’s a dom’s and a submissive’s tenderness

Dorabella’s face gave nothing away.

“Though I’m not completely sure I’m wrong, either. Regardless, I shouldn’t tease you, and I’m sorry. I won’t say it again without your permission.”

Dorabella smiled at me. I might have been being over-cautious. But she said, “Thank you. Actually, I quite like hearing you say  it. Doesn’t give you the right to cane me, though.”

“Raylene, would I start with a caning?”

Raylene raised her head as far as she could, which wasn’t far. “You spanked me, master. To begin with. And I guarantee that Bellie would -“

“Rayyyy-lene.” Raylene’s head dropped again. I couldn’t see her face, but I could imagine her smirk. I kept my face straight. “Anyway, Dorabella, I wouldn’t do anything  without your consent. And you’re still a good girl.” 

She smiled, with dimples. “Thank you. On both counts.” 

Irony is an ineffective shield. 'Good girl' still has power, even if accepted ironically

Irony is an ineffective shield. ‘Good girl’ still has power, even if accepted ironically

So I looked back at Lynette, patiently waiting through this comedy. She said, “Oh, you can call me ‘good girl’ too. It’s meant to be patronising. But I take it as a kind of parody.”

“Yeah, it is parody.” I was going to go on and say that even so, part of the way in which it felt good, below the layers of irony, was in submission responding to dominance. Safe, approving, warm dominance, but dominance just the same.

But I stopped in time. Better to let her feel she’d won a point than put her on her guard.

"Good girl" has most power when it's whispered

“Good girl” has most power when it’s whispered

“But you’re still a good girl, too. Thanks for doing the filming.” 

Lynette smiled. She liked praise. And, more dangerously for her, she was starting to like my approval.

I pulled her closer, this time, rather than step towards her, and kissed her, gently, one hand on her ass. No smacks. I whispered, “Good girl.”

 She closed her eyes, then said, “I know what you’re doing.” 

But she was smiling. I said, “Does it make any difference?” 

She didn’t answer. I kissed her again.

But it was time. I stepped back and raised the cane. “Raylene.”

“Yes, master.” In high, sing-song soprano. She was making her voice sound as cherubic as she could.

badgirlcaned3“You’re a bad girl.” I swung the cane down, medium hard, catching her low.

The stripe flared across that soft skin, just above the crease of her buttocks and thighs.

“A very bad girl.”

Raylene’s hair flew, and the desk rocked under her attempts to move, thwarted by Dorabella’s arms.

“Owwww-wowww, master!”

Being a bad girl has its pleasures too. But that's for more advanced players

Being a bad girl has its pleasures too. But that was for more advanced players. Like Raylene

I nodded, waiting for her to get herself still, and her ass up and offered to the cane again.

“Bad girl,” I said again, and lashed the cane down directly onto that delicate crease. Raylene was silent for a second, shocked by the pain.

Then, as the welt bloomed redly, there were sobs.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 121: Raylene says sorry 2

t-shirt offRaylene looked at me. Her t-shirt hadn’t been much protection or cover, but it had been something. It had meant she wasn’t quite naked. Losing it made her feel more vulnerable. She turned to face Lynette, and coughed again. Then there were tears welling in her eyes.

There was no way she could, or should, be especially sorry about mildly winding up Lynette last night. The punishment I was giving her was so obviously disproportionate that she had to know that her caning had nothing to do with any fault on her part.

But a tear spilled, and began its tracking down her left cheek. 

She was in the scene and setting, and she was a sorry girl saying her apologies and hoping to be forgiven. So long as the forgiveness wasn’t the boring kind that would mean that her caning was over. She said, “Lyneck”.

crybabyShe coughed yet again and said, less hoarsely, “Lynette, I’m so sorry I was rude to you at dinner last night. I was a silly – ” she glanced at me – “rude little girl. And I’m learning my lesson now. I hope you forgive me. Please.”

Two more tears spilled. One on each cheek. It had to be a hard appeal to resist.

But Lynette looked at me. It seemed she was going to wait to take my cue. 

I softened my voice. “That was good, Raylene. You’re a good girl. Now turn round. Show Lynette your marks. And remember you’ve got another dozen and a half to come. And a penalty stroke. Whether she forgives you or not.”

Raylene said, “yes, master.” She’d found her voice again. She turned her back to present her arse to Lynette, who looked, fascinated but no longer horrified, at the red-splotched and striped state of that arse. Then, without me having to tell her, Raylene put her hands on her head.

I said, again, “Good girl.” She nodded but didn’t speak.

Lynette looked at me, questioningly. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. We had a moment of complicity, deciding Raylene’s short-term fate. She formed the word, “forgive?” silently.

I shook my head. Lynette smiled, nodded and said, “Raylene?”

Raylene didn’t answer or turn to look back at Lynette. She stood still, naked, her ass striped and glowing, her hands on her head. She was showing me that she only did what I said. Lynette said, “Raylene. You’re getting punished. Rightly. And I hope you’re learning from it.” Raylene’s shoulders dropped. She’d hoped for the comfort of female sympathy. 

Lynette took a deep breath. It was hard work, being cruel. “But if you want my forgiveness, you’ll have to ask me again. Later. After you’ve had your caning.”

Lynette frowned then, looked at me and silently mouthed, “ok?”

I was grinning like a wolf prepared to share a lamb. I nodded. I hadn’t expected Lynette to know so well what Raylene would like to hear. I wanted Lynette closer to me, I realised. Where she sat I couldn’t kiss her, and I wanted very much to do that.

hand on assI said, “Lynette?”


“Would you like to touch those marks? Across that stupid little girl’s ass? She earned them for you; you can run your hand over them now. If you like.”  

There was a moment’s silence. Raylene’s shoulders rose. She’d liked that idea. But Lynette sat for a moment, thinking. 

She pursed her lips.