Kink of the Week: My first threesome

It started with a sort-of-sexual sevensome. I was twenty-one, and I had a huge bed at the time, and I was known to be interested in girls and being nice to them, and to be interested in sex, and in political issues affecting women. Though I wasn’t available, because I was being faithful to my girlfriend.

My girlfriend, who I’ll call Amanda here, had by now become the Women’s Rights Executive Officer at the local university, so feminist women often came round to our place to plan things, or stuff envelopes for letter-writing campaigns and so on. So it happened that one night we all crashed into bed together, and I had six women sleeping with me. 

In the morning there was a lot of flirtatious slithering and cuddling and rolling over each others’ bodies. Even though some of them were, in public, very anti-male, most of them were happy for there to be an erect penis, with young man attached, in that bed. I got a lot of rubbing, and my cock found its way between the soft parts of two or three girls at once, or between the thighs of one girl, and so on. But there were too many people, and no-one was game to actually have a boy-on-girl or even a girl-on-girl fuck in front of the others.

As well as my girlfriend Amanda there was another girl in that bed who I very specifically wanted. Let’s call her Miranda. Miranda was beautiful, in a young-Lauren-Bacall kind of way, while my girl thought, of herself, that she was “merely” pretty (though I thought she was beautiful even if Miranda, inescapably, was more so), so we were both a bit in awe of Miranda. 

It turned out that Miranda was in awe of us. I was a political figure who turned up on radio and tv locally, saying good and noble things. Amanda was not just a feminist but actually got paid for it. And there was another thing: I’d been Miranda’s probation officer for a while, after she’d got caught spray-painting a wall. There’d been a certain amount of sexual tension between us, but I’d managed not to take up any of her invitations, and that had also gained me some respect.

(There’s a long story about my probation officer days elsewhere on this blog. It tells about the time I finally succumbed and spanked and then fucked one of my clients. You can find all the episodes of that story by clicking on this: The Probation Officer’s Tale. )

Anyway, Miranda’s probation was finished, so she wasn’t my client. I stared at her until she looked at me. She nodded, and I kissed her. Then Amanda rolled towards us and kissed Miranda too. 

The other women were starting to get up. Eventually there were just four people: Amanda, Miranda, me, and one other woman. That woman said, “I can smell breakfast. You coming?” Then she noted that under the sheet Miranda had her hand on my cock and was squeezing hard at the base, because I was leaking pre-come and she’d read some article about how that was supposed to delay male orgasm. “Oh.” She left. 

And then there were three. I’d decided it wasn’t unfaithful if Amanda was in it too. I was kissing Miranda, who’d switched from trying to delay my orgasm to stroking my cock gently up and down. It was excruciating, and wonderful. Amanda stroked Miranda’s cunt. Then I was on top of both of them, kissing Amanda while sliding as naturally and easily as anything in the world into Miranda’s sweet, wet cunt. 

We fucked for a long time, while Amanda lay beside us, and I kissed and licked Amanda’s cunt while I moved inside Miranda, mostly very slowly and gently. Sometimes we’d speed up and I’d have to stop, suddenly, for several seconds until I calmed down again. Miranda was on her back, so she couldn’t pleasure Amanda except with one hand, fingers working inside Amanda. Her fingers occasionally got kissed by me, because that’s where my face was. 

I wanted Amanda to climb up and put her cunt on Miranda’s mouth, but we were all too young, too shy and too silly to make that happen. But eventually Miranda came, with one long, drawn-out wail. There were tears in her eyes. She was immensely moved and happy. I kissed her fervently, because I was so pleased with her and so proud of myself for managing this without coming in her. This was ill-advised, unprotected sex, I’m afraid.

Then Amanda turned onto her front and raised her arse. I’d kept my interest in bdsm from her, mostly, but she knew my enthusiasm for her ass. Miranda watched, and then slid herself down, thighs open, to Amanda’s face. Amanda did Miranda very gently, lovingly. Amanda’s sexual career, as far as I knew, was entirely heterosexual, but it didn’t occur to me to wonder where she’d developed not just know-how but serious skills.

I wasn’t doing any thinking. I fucked my girl, rocking, pressed against her delicious ass, and divided the rest of my attention between kissing Amanda’s neck, and Miranda’s inner thigh. Eventually Miranda came again, just as noisily, and somehow that started Amanda, pushing back at me to get more of my cock, and then at last I let myself come, too, with great bear-like male grunts.

We heard laughter, from the kitchen. We looked at each other, wondering whether to be mortified. Then Miranda shrugged. So we lay together, resting, until Miranda’s hand on my cock, just affectionate holding at first, got more purposeful and I started to respond. Then she sucked me till I was entirely hard. For a while it was just Miranda and I, in a sort of vague, not quite joined up 69 position, waiting for Amanda to wake up.

Eventually Amanda did, and grabbed Miranda’s face for her very own, looking deep into her eyes and giving soulful, loving kisses. 

Amanda rolled onto her back, and so I helped Miranda into position, face in Amanda’s cunt, ass up, legs spread for me. I slid back into Miranda, and found myself riding her, pulling her hair, which she’d said – back in probation officer days – that she liked, and this time we fucked hard and desperate, the three of us, pushing ruthlessly on, hard and fast as we could, for our release and each other’s. 

Afterwards we lay in each other’s arms, gasping, the sheets wet with sweat. And so on: repeat. When we finally did get up, the other women had gone. It was evening.

Of course, in the longer run that morning didn’t turn out so well for me, which is another story. Even so, I still treasure that morning, and the next time the three of us were together, as among the most goldenly magical moments of my life. What I learned from the pleasure and the beauty of it, and later from pain, changed me and re-set my life.  

Klick on the kiss for more Kink of the Week posts!

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 138: Kissing Lynette

Beside me, Lynette sighed pleasurably. Languorously, with shining eyes. She was taking a video of the whole thing on my phone camera. She was enjoying watching Raylene’s anguished movements, her toe-clenched kicking and the writhing of her ass and thighs.

I wasn’t sure if she liked the fact that Raylene’s arse hurt, not the way I liked that knowledge.

But at the very least that consideration didn’t interfere with her pleasure. She was also enjoying her flirtation with me. Actually we’d passed flirtation. She’d kissed me with tongue and enthusiasm. Back in the corridor, she’d put her hand on my cock.

That was the other puzzle in this room. Lynette had only come to this house because she’d been trying to get Dorabella into bed. Her first reaction to my presense, doing perverted things to Raylene on the stairs, had been openly hostile. I expected she had a fine line in “all men are bastards” conversation. I also suspected that she’d leaned on it while she was chasing Dorabella. And yet she was coming to bed with Raylene and me at mid-night. I was sure she’d demand penile, as it were, penetration.

I shrugged, mentally, and tapped the cane across the roundest, fullest, curves of Raylene’s bottom. The next two strokes would be the last of her two dozen. I was letting her know where to expect them. Raylene expelled a breath. “Master? God, it hurts… I’m so sorry, Lynette, I wish I hadn’t been rude to you.”

Lynette looked at me. A little earlier I’d encouraged her to be hard and unforgiving when Raylene asked for forgiveness. I smiled and nodded, giving permission. Lynette made her voice icy. “I know you’re sorry now, Raylene. But that’s only because you’re getting punished.”

Raylene made a shocked, nasal noise. Her arse rose and fell still, driven by burning pain. And lust.

Lynette frowned, a little unhappy with herself. Being cruel was fun, but as she’d found earlier, it was hard. She looked at me again. I made the OK symbol with my cane-free hand. “And it serves you right, Raylene. You were being a real bitch last night. Tell me again how sorry you are when he’s finished with you.”

Raylene wailed. I kissed Lynette again, for the sweet sake of it, and to let her know that she wasn’t a horrible person. She’d said the right thing, for Raylene’s pleasure and entertainment. Raylene said, “Master? Please, Master?”

She knew she was interrupting Lynette and me, and she was hesitant. In any case, she was about to ask a question, and I suspected she was scared of the possible answer.

I put my hands on Lynette’s ass, and she reciprocated. We kissed like people about to fuck. “Yes? Raylene?”

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 137: Strokes get in her thighs

So there we were, at a dramatic moment. Raylene naked and bent over the table, bottom and upper thighs already well striped. There should be 19 welts, but they’d merged and crossed each other and I couldn’t count the marks any more in a general splash of corrugated red.

I’d tapped Raylene’s thighs, so she knew where the next strokes were going to go. I raised the cane, and whipped it down, twice, across the backs of her legs. I left little pause between them.

Stung, Raylene yowled and twisted, kicking her legs in the air, since it was the only movement she could make. I watched her with awe and desire, and listened to her pain song.  

Dorabella, Raylene’s half sister, held Raylene’s shoulders down. She did it with real determination, leaving her robe flapping open.

I’d told her that if Raylene got up she’d get extra strokes, and that I’d give the same number to Dorabella. She hadn’t definitely conceded that I had the right to cane her, which wasn’t surprising since clearly I didn’t.

However, Dorabella was afraid that if I told her to take her place beside Raylene, presenting her arse for the cane, she’d do as she was told. By now, I was also pretty sure she wouldn’t disobey. 

In the meantime, she was making sure the issue, and her choice, didn’t arise. She was taller than Raylene, and though they were both strong girls she’d made sure her extra height gave her the advantage.

Raylene was going to take her caning, and she wasn’t going to get out of position.

There were puzzles there: Dorabella seemed to be enjoying herself too much. It didn’t seem to be sororal spite, where one sister will sometimes enjoy mild misfortune happening to the other. It was more that there was some sort of unacknowledged sexual vibe between the two of them. This was turning Dorabella on. I didn’t understand quite what was going on, but there was no doubt that Dorabella was aroused. 

I gave Raylene two more strokes, quite firmly, and fast. This time I aimed high, getting them as close as possible to that wonderful fleshy crease where the thighs and buttocks meet. Raylene screamed, head shaking and hair flying. feet lifting from the carpet, and kicking in the air, until they were the highest part of of her body. Dorabella fought Raylene down again until she subsided.

Dorabella wasn’t looking at Raylene. She looked me in the eyes.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 108: Lynette’s cunt, in the corridor

But though I’d sensibly decided not to kiss Lynette (she having belatedly climbed the stairs in response to Raylene’s and my invitation for her to watch Raylene get caned), I’d walked into touching distance. I said, “I’m glad you decided to come.” 

She scowled at me. “How’s Raylene?” 

I thought about that. “Slightly caned, I guess. You missed the first two strokes. But about to to get a lot more. Caned, I mean. And she’s, um, pretty happy about that. She’s having a good time.” 

scowl“Yeah. She’ll be telling herself that. She’s a victim not only of male violence, yeah, and on top of that of false consciousness. She thinks she chose this, but really she didn’t. Because the patriarchy chose it for her.” 

My mouth dropped, dismayed. I’d had that argument before. I’d been interested in discussing it, once, but now it only bored me.

“Just because she likes something you might not choose, doesn’t mean you can discount her choices as false consciousness.”

“Well, you would say something like that, wouldn’t you?”

‘Yeah, I’m enjoying myself, too. That’s how it works, any kind of sex. And this is something Raylene’s enjoying. It’s as free as any choice is. Also -“

I stopped, because Lynette punched me lightly on the side of my stomach. She laughed. “I’m kidding, you fucking fool. You were looking too smug, so I thought I’d wind you up. Sorry. But you should’ve seen your face.” 

My mouth was still open. I gaped at her. I managed to say, “Oh.” And then she kissed me. It wasn’t a big kiss, but her mouth pressed on mine, compressed and sucked briefly and lightly. She stepped back. I said, “Bloody hell, I hate dialectical arguments. They just … go on, don’t they?” 

Lynette looked at me. Then she grinned, probably looking more smug than I’d been. “Gotcha.” 

So I said, “Yeah, you did. Scared the arse off me.” And – maybe since I’d decided not to only seconds before – I kissed her. She was stiff for a microsecond. She hadn’t expected it. Then she relaxed and kissed me back. So that was that.

Eventually she stepped back, but put her hand on my arse, squeezing me through my jeans. “What scared you? A little feminist talk and you go running to stand on a chair?”

“No. It’s not that I haven’t heard that argument before. And it’s not that I don’t know why it’s wrong. I mean, incorrect, not immoral or something. But having that argument just now … It’d just be a buzzkill, that’s all. I feared the buzzkill.” 

assgrab fmThat seemed like a good last line, and she was still holding my arse, so in celebration I moved a little closer and put my hands, one of them holding a cane, on Lynette’s ass.

And because she looked up at me, half brat and half princess, I kissed her again. This kiss stayed, and became open-mouthed when I felt her tongue press against my teeth. We explored teeth and tastes and spit. 

This was going well. “I’ve saved you a good seat.” 

She said, “ooooooooh!” That was mock-excitement, but I thought it covered up real excitement. She was more turned on by this – by Raylene, by Raylene enacting a strange sexual ritual – and even possibly by me, a little bit – than she was prepared to admit. 

inner thighSo I held her tighter, and she stopped holding her body away from my erection. I let my hand prowl, lifting her borrowed skirt and holding bare thigh, not so far from her cunt. I thought about saying something about her having one of the three best seats in the house, and rejected that vehemently. I could get away with saying that to Raylene or Dorabella, because they were patient with me. Lynette, on the other hand …

So I said the only other thing that had recently come near the top of my mind. “Ah, this is good. You smell good.” 

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 107: Don’t wash!

Lynette had decided to join us, though she’d missed Raylene’s first two strokes. I looked down at Dorabella, still filming the development of the second cane stripe. I said, “The irresistible pulling power of your sister’s arse.” 

She tilted her head in acknowledgement, still focussed on filming Raylene’s stripes. “It must be magic.”

“Yours’d have the same effect.”

Dorabella shook her head. “My little sister. She’s braver than me.”

kneelI figured that was enough affirmation for Raylene, so I bent down and kissed Dorabella’s forehead, then nose, then, when she lifted her head, her mouth. We kissed, softly, a standing clothed man and a kneeling, near-naked woman. I’d been there before. The cellphone in her hand filmed the carpet. But I straightened up. “Hang on, you two. Don’t go away. Raylene, don’t get up and don’t you dare say a word.”  

And I went out to the corridor to greet Lynette. I could have just let her let herself into the room, but I wanted to get an idea of her mood before I resumed Raylene’s caning. Anyway, it might be Raylene’s bedroom, but she wasn’t allowed to move. Or speak.

So I must be the host.

Lynette had reached the landing. Like Dorabella, she looked first at my face, and then dropped her attention to the front of my jeans. There wasn’t much I could do about that: erections can be blatant, and anyway I still had the cane in my hand. Lynette looked up again, quickly enough. Dorabella had thought the state of my cock was hilarious. Lynette, it seemed, was more ambivalent.

She’d changed into one of Dorabella and Raylene’s mother’s skirts, with a swirling maroon and purple pattern. It was a mini-skirt when the mom wore it, but Lynette was a waif, a gamin. It came down to her knees. And she wore a black blouse, from the same source, which had probably also provided her glowing goth lippy. 

unsilliedShe hadn’t been able to shower, but she’d changed her clothes and made herself up. She wanted to look her best. That said encouraging things about her attitude to the frankly weird stuff we were up to in Raylene’s bedroom.

But what occurred to me just then was the question of whether Lynette was wearing yesterday’s knickers, or none. I didn’t really care which, but I did care about whether I’d get a chance to find out. I still didn’t think much of my chances. But I said, “Hey! That skirt really suits you! You look great!”

“And you look, uh, happy.” I laughed at that, mostly from relief. It was almost as demure as the outfit she was wearing, but it was an erection joke. I revised my chances slightly upwards. Still under under 50 per cent, though. When I laughed Lynette stopped walking towards me. She was waiting, or considering. Still, she was smiling, with big red lips and lots of kohl about her eyes. She looked like Homeless Cleopatra. So since she wasn’t walking towards me, I walked towards her.

Don’t be a fucking idiot, I told myself. Don’t try to kiss her. And if you tell her she smells good – which I was thinking – she’ll think you’re making some sort of non-washed cunt reference. That makes you a sleaze-bag. So don’t tell her she smells good.

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 106: The third girl

Raylene lowered her body so her breasts and belly rested on wood that, even through her t-shirt, must feel cold and hard. She straightened her legs again so her arse arched and offered itself. I nodded. She didn’t see that, so I said, “I know it hurts, Raylene, but you’ll get through it. Just twelve more with this cane, then we’ll give you a short break. Ok?”

caned speakRaylene had to take several ragged breaths before she could answer.

“Yes, master. Um. Do I say, ‘One, thank you, master?'” 

I’d spanked her in Lynette’s room when she’d asked a question instead of waiting for me to tell her what to do. But I didn’t want to add to her punishment just then.

Not when she was so obviously trying to be helpful, and good.

So I put my hand on her arse above that first red stripe, and squeezed lightly so she knew it was affectionate. “No, love. I want you to concentrate on what you feel. Counting distracts you. It makes it easier.” This isn’t really true, by the way, though having to count can stop a submissive from floating into subspace. I just didn’t want to have to give her extra strokes when she got the count wrong, as she inevitably would. “And I don’t want you to have it easy, girl. So just do what you’re told. Leave the rest to me.” 

That must have reminded her, too, of the spanking she’d had in front of Lynette. “Course. I’m sorry, master.” That sounded sincere. She was.

“It’s ok, love. You’re being good. I’m proud of you.”

Raylene paused, thinking about that: this was praise for being properly submissive while getting the cane. Not many people got that kind of praise, and now she was one of them. “Thank you, master.”

Dorabella crept a little closer, presumably to get a closer picture of the first stripe, now slightly raised, and my hand. The end of the cane she held between her thighs poked the back of her robe from her body, leaving the tops of her thighs and her hips uncovered.

“You’ll need to come back beside me, Dorabella.” She dropped to her knees, and crawled backwards, trying to keep the phone level and steady. I touched the top of her head, and then put my fingers to her mouth as a caress and so she could kiss them if she wanted. She did. Then she looked up at me. She was happy, bright-eyed, though I suspected she had some message she was trying to signal to me, that I couldn’t read.  

flinchI raised the cane and drew it back. Dorabella swung the phone to capture that. I tried to look serious for the camera. Then I struck, and Dorabella swivelled.

She missed the instant of impact, but filmed Raylene’s reactions, her muscles straining as she held herself nearly still. The second stripe rose and colored, more or less horizontal with the first but three centimetres higher.

Raylene tensed then relaxed, her upper body flat to the desk. “Fffffff….” 

She arched her ass up for the next. I said, “That’s good. You’re being very brave.” 

Raylene wasn’t ready to speak. Her knuckles were white. She gripped the front desk legs for dear life. “Ahhhh…” 

I raised the cane again. 

But there was bustle on the stairs. “Hold it! Sorry I’m late! Sorry! Can you … wait a sec?” 

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 105: Raylene meets the cane, while Dorabella watches

Raylene said, “Master?” 

“Girl.” I thought this was the start of some delaying game. I wasn’t in the mood. 

Er, what are my motivations for this scene?

Er, what are my motivations for this scene?

“Could you take photos? I’d like to have a record of the first time I get the cane. I want to see the first mark. First mark ever.”

Oh. I should have thought of that. I took out my cell. “Dorabella?”

She dithered, looking at the cane awkwardly. She put it ,between her thighs.

She knew I liked that. She took the phone from my hand.  “Yes, I can do that.”

“Okay. Actually, could you set it on video? Get all of Raylene’s thighs and ass into the image. Maybe some of me, but that doesn’t really matter. But make sure you get a clear, close image of her ass, because she’ll want to see the marks developing. And keep it still, can you do that?”

“Never filmed a porno before, I’ve got to say. But … yes, I know how to do, oh, weddings and parties. Anything.”

“Good.” Because of the mood I was in and because it seemed to flow, I added, “Good girl.” But Dorabella was already blushing, and that made no visible difference. “And thank you.” I waited a few seconds while Dorabella knelt so the lens was level with Raylene’s ass. “Ready?” 

Raylene said, “Yes, master.” 

I put my hand on her bottom. Gently, but with a trace of warning. “I meant Dorabella.” 

Dorabella looked up at me. “Yeah. I got it.” 

“Okay, Raylene. You’re the cast of Raylene’s First Caning. Get it right, because there won’t be any re-takes. Unless you let go of the table.” Raylene nodded enthusiastically: she didn’t want re-takes either. “Action.”

And I swung the cane down with medium force. The bamboo landed across Raylene’s arse, with an oddly dry sound, a ‘snick’ like a dry branch breaking. The stripe started to define and declare itself at the same moment that the pain had built enough to shock Raylene into movement. “Owww! Ah fuck! Fuck that hurts! Oh, owww…”  

Get down!

Get down!

I let her wail and writhe, because it made her sound and look so utterly fuckable. A submissive girl doing her best to please, and pleasing me even when she broke position. She was only human, and so am I. But after about a minute, I said, “That was one. Twelve to go, with this cane.” I felt sympathetic, and that I was doing the right thing by her. “Get back in position now.”

Raylene sighed. She could still feel exactly where the cane had landed, low on her arse, and it still hurt. But the first shock of pain was starting to fade. She knew that I’d fix that in the next few seconds. “Yes master.” 

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 104: Three hearts, and two sisters’ asses, beat as one

Raylene made a little noise: “nn”, nasal, falling in two notes. I took it that she was disappointed that Lynette hadn’t turned up, not fearful because she was about to be caned. But she dropped her hips, seeking firmer contact with my fingers in her cunt and my palm under her. She was taking consolation of a kind, and demanding that there be more consolation to come. 

How I imagined Raylene and Lynette. The state of Lynette's ass was wishful thinking on my part. So was my possible presence, which depended on Lynette's attitude. So that's Schroedinger's Penis at lower right: it may or may not actually be there.

How I imagined Raylene and Lynette. The state of Lynette’s ass was wishful thinking on my part. So was my possible presence, which depended on Lynette’s attitude. So that’s Schroedinger’s Penis at lower right: it may or may not actually be there.

But consolation should come later. I took my fingers out of her and smacked her bottom wetly. I said, “We’ll still try.” Meaning we’d try to get Lynette into the same bed as Raylene. Even, I thought nobly,  if I wasn’t in that bed too. Maybe that was too noble. I wiped my fingers dry on her t-shirt, so she could feel me being ungallant

In the meantime, she was going to feel what the cane was like, which she seemed to be looking forward to. And there was me, urgently needing to fuck her as soon as Dorabella had left us. I knew that was consolation too. I trusted her need and want for me, even if a day and a night with Lynette and me might be better still. 

Anyway, it was time. Hardship leads to the stars, Raylene’s old school used to tell her. In Latin, so they must’ve meant it. Still, the hardship had to come first. “Get that ass up, girl. And keep it there.”

Raylene complied, still spectacularly, the backs of her thighs stretched and straight. “Yes, master.” Her voice was cheerful again. 

“And keep still. You don’t get up till I tell you you can. That’s an order. And what happens if you disobey an order?”

“Fif. Fucking hell, Jaime. Master! Fifty-two strokes. So…” 

“That’s right. So you’ll stay in position.”

For some reason Raylene seemed to relax. This wasn’t familiar ground yet, but at least there was certainty. I raised the cane. Dorabella stepped back, stumbling on one of Raylene’s shoes. “Come round to my left side, Dorabella. I don’t want to catch you with the cane. Accidentally.”

My brain on vasopressin. (A male arousal hormone. Noted for its brain-fuck capacity.)

My brain on vasopressin. (Vasopressin is a key male arousal hormone, noted for its capacity to reduce blood flow to the brain. My brain, anyway.)

I hadn’t put any stress on  accidentally, but Dorabella blushed again. She crossed behind me and stood close on my left side, almost touching. I breathed out, shakily. I’d imagined, for less than a second, the other threesome. Dorabella naked and splayed beside Raylene, the two girls well-striped across their asses and upper thighs, holding hands and waiting for my cock. That vision had seemed immensely real, vibrantly coloured, and powerful.

I shook my head. 

 

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 103: A male dom, the straight girl and the bi girl: No more waiting

Raylene had just just been told her caning would double if she disobeyed me again. I’d liked her reaction, so I tried to extend it. Stretch it out like a Jaime Mortimer story. “So you’re going to start doing as you’re told, Raylene?”

“Yes, master. And … thank you. For letting me off with just a warning.”

Raylene was in what had already become her element. Sex is best complicated, but happiness is best simple. She was happy.

I thought I might be able to spread some of that happiness around. I took the other, heavier cane, and passed it to Dorabella. “Hold that, please, in the meantime, Dorabella. And pass it to me when I ask.”

That's the cane grip of someone who expects to use it.

That’s how someone who expects to use the cane might hold it

Dorabella took the cane, holding ot at the thickest end. She swished it in the air, impressed at the sound it made. I said, “No, Dorabella. You hold it in the middle.”

She changed her grip. Then she understood why I’d told her to, and her face flamed red. “Yes…” There was hesitation because she’d had to stop herself falling into Raylene’s speech pattern. She wasn’t going to call me master. Or sir. Still, it had been a late catch. She compromised. “Yes ok. I can do that.”

“Thank you.” I patted her bottom lightly, a caress and not a threat, then drew her in close for another kiss. The cane was awkward in her right hand, so she only put her left arm round me. But her body pressed hard against mine, and I grunted with simple animal pleasure when her belly came into contact with my erection.

I mouthed at her, “I want to fuck you. So. Much.” She didn’t react, just watched me as if there had to be more. So I added, aloud, “And I will. Fuck you. Tomorrow.” She nodded: I’d better, if I knew what was good for me. It seemed that Raylene agreed.

I wondered what had happened to Dorabella’s erratic boyfriend. He must have annoyed her enough for her to dump him, or else he’d left her. Either way, the man was a moron. But his departure was one reason why she was back wanting me. Also, she’d had more time to think about the bdsm, and not be shocked by it any more. That, along with Raylene’s obvious enjoyment, was apparently intriguing. And it’d released the competitive thing she and Raylene had going.

But now Dorabella was holding it like someone who expects to have to hand the cane over to have it used on her. Or, maybe, her sister

But now Dorabella was holding it like someone who expects to have to hand the cane over soon enough, to have it used on her. On her sister, in this case. But holding it like that still set off a chain of ideas

I put both hands on her ass, so she could feel the slender cane in my hand touching her, pressing against her right flank and down the back of her leg. We held each other firmly. Dorabella stepped even closer, placing her feet outside mine. She wasn’t as mischievous and manipulative as Raylene, not quite, but the two of them did have equally perfect asses.

But this was as sexual as Dorabella and I could be for now, because today was Raylene’s. Though Raylene would have been perfectly happy with Dorabella as our bed guest, and even happier if we managed to bring Lynette in. With Lynette she’d be fucked by two people at once, which wouldn’t happen with Dorabella.

Me, I’d committed to doing what I could to assist Raylene’s Lynette project. But I’d prefer to have Raylene to myself for a day first.

Anyway, it seemed a shame that Lynette didn’t seem to be coming. I’d thought that Raylene had done a formidable job of enticing her this morning, and that she and I had made some progress away from loathing and towards sexual interest. Raylene had been sure that watching her ass dancing while I caned her would have brought Lynette into our bed as soon as possible. I’d have insisted that it not be before tomorrow morning. Lynette would have set her alarm clock.

On the other hand, time had passed and Lynette wasn’t here. I applied a final luxurious squeeze to Dorabella’s ass and let her go, the robe sliding back to cover her.

before cane cunt strokeI took a step forward and touched Raylene’s hip with the cane, then slid it over her skin until it pressed across her buttocks. I tapped the target a little harder, just above the crease of her buttocks and thighs, and Raylene’s left hand, the one I could see, tightened its grip on the table-leg.

I stroked her, my fingers entering her cunt for the first time in a while, to remind her how much she needed to be fucked. She kept her head down, but her ass dropped to meet my hand. She whimpered with pure desire and need. 

“Sorry, Raylene love, we’re a guest short. Pity. But we’ll begin now anyway.”

Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 102: A male dom, a straight girl and a bi girl stop waiting for Lynette

Raylene had turned her head to see what all that silence behind her was about. It probably seemed unfair that I was rubbing Dorabella’s ass and not hers. She was the star this morning, after all. I took a step forward and rubbed, squeezed, fondled and stroked Raylene as well, left-handed, while still keeping my right hand on Dorabella. A sister’s ass in each hand. That was interesting, tactilely and socially.

Raylene laughed. “Your face! You’re in heaven, aren’t you?”

head downI grinned back at her. She was right, of course. But I made my voice sound angry. “Raylene, did I tell you to look down at the floor?”

“Yes, master.”

“And..?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, master.” She bent her neck, and her face dropped out of sight.

I smacked her bottom, still not very hard, and picked up the lighter cane again, tapping her ass with it. “Do you think you should get extra strokes?”

There was a moment’s silence. Followed by another moment. With no sound. Eventually, Raylene said, subdued, “Yes, I’m sure I should.”

She didn’t say “master” that one time. But she did like the word. I wondered where it had come from. I was sure she’d never had a master before, or even played much beyond getting an unenthusiastic spanking from some boy who wasn’t into it. Maybe it was something she’d read. But I couldn’t think what it would be. The Master and Marguerita? Hardly. I’d have to ask her. In the meantime, I’d been drafted into the role. And, looking at Raylene, it was impossible to regret this.

cane begin“You’re right, girl. That’s two extras. You’re getting thirteen with the light cane, and thirteen with the heavier cane.”

Dorabella moved, a little shocked by those numbers. But she didn’t move away from me. I still held her ass, and I didn’t let her go: just squeezed reassuringly. Raylene said, “Yes, sir. Sorry! I mean, yes master.”

“And that’s not a punishment, Raylene. That’s just a warning. Disobey me again, and I’ll double it. Twenty-six strokes with each cane.”

Raylene, head down, said, “Ahhh, yii! I’ll be good! Seriously good.”

And Dorabella said, “Oh.” Numbers again. I patted her ass lightly. Unthreateningly. But otherwise I ignored her, for now.