Come to my shop!

My shop is now open!

It’s selling the longest, sweetest and sexiest schoolgirl spanking saga ever written. So far there are nine volumes, and there are probably another five still to be written. But at the speed at which I’m creating things now, they’ll be ready, with happy endings for all concerned, a little later this year.

But reading “Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas” isn’t about the destination; it’s about the journey. Buy it now!

Another saga will commence shortly: In the Realm of the Sensei. It’s based loosely on the adventures of a friend of mine who was teaching English in Japan for a while, and will then move on to some of my own adventures in post-war Vietnam. So there’s always more, coming to the store. 

It due course I’l be selling the highly desired Jerusalem Mortimer coffee mugs on-line, along with the famous Jerusalem Mortimer t-shirt. But bear with me on those. They will arrive, but other things will have to take priority. 

Above all, I say: Come visit my shop!



Sinful Sunday: Rest

Arethusa liked her cuffs. She hardly ever took them off when we were together. They were fur-lined and comfortable. And sometimes, when her Master has gone off to make a cup of tea, and toast with jam, they’d keep her feeling held. 

And if, as Wordsworth claimed, poetry is the result of emotion recollected in tranquillity, then her sleep and its dreams were poetry. 

Wicked Wednesday: Hot and roughly is thoroughly

Claire knelt, hands and knees, at my feet. “I need you to fuck me, now, Master. If you want.” That was a silly thing to say; of course I wanted. But I guessed she wanted to say something submissive. Then she said, “Thoroughly.”

I took the cane, lodged between her buttocks, and removed the little butt plug. I stroked her, two fingers and then three slishing between wet lips, and pressed the cane between her labia. I said, “Thoroughly.” Claire caught her breath, then moaned quietly when I put a little upwards pressure to the cane so it lodged against her most sensitive skin, her cunt warmly and wetly clasping that length of rattan. Then I added, because it suddenly occurred to me, “That’s an anagram of ‘hot’ and ‘roughly’.”

That cane I stroked her with  had caused her pain, and she knew it was soon going to bring her more, but for now all was forgiven between them, that cane and her. I turned the cane so it rolled in her, and her moans became a little louder. She was very ready for… something. Anything. She was prepared to let anythng happen. Anything that had her in iit and was hard would be good.

I smiled at her, not that she could see me, and took as condom from my bedside drawer. I said, “As for thoroughly, let’s see what happens. You’ve got six penalty strokes still to come. You’ve had one penalty stroke, so that will bring us to thirty-seven. While I’m deliver them I expect you to stay in place, and count each stroke out loud. And thank me. So, the next one is ‘Thirty-two, thank you, sir.’ Can you do that?”  

“I don’t know how I’ll keep still, Master. Or quiet. But I’ll try.”

“You’ll do as you’re told, Claire. Unless you want to call out some higher numbers. You can count to fifty, can’t you?”

“I’ll keep still, Master!”

“That’s better. Brace yourself, Claire. These are going to sting.”

I raised the cane, counted silently and slowly to forty while she waited, then swung it down, to crack, loud and vicious, across the softer skin of her lower buttocks. Claire sucked in air, and her hands clenched, gathering up bedclothes as she fought to keep still and presented. She gasped, then sang out loud and clear, “Thirty-two! Thank you, sir!”

I’d wanted to remind her of her place, and bring back the mood we’d had in my office.

But after only that one stroke lust took over. I rolled the condom on and took Claire firmly by her hips, raising her ass a little further.

I pressed forward and my cock slipped easily into her cunt, till I was buried: wetly and tightly held. I took her in one long, slow movement. When I was pressed tight, finally, against the blazing heat of her ass, Claire groaned, low. “Fuuuck! Thank you, god thank you, Master.”


Wicked Wednesday: The call of desire

Claire, naked, shamed and caned, butt-plug winking crimson between her striped buttocks, stayed in position, hands on head. We were going through a ceremony together, the shaming of the committed submissive before the next stage, when discipline continues but becomes less painful and more openly and overtly sexual. 

I was pretending to ignore her, though she was beautiful, and her submission and the welts across her ass made her a vibrant sexual presence.

At the same time the clicking of my keyboard was a sign to her that she was not important, just a shamed woman waiting for the next part of her sentence to be pronounced.

Eventually I opened a new document and scrawled in it irrelevantly, just to make the sound of a keyboard while I studied her.

Her head was proud and high at first, but as the minutes passed, feeling the warm pain in her buttocks, and her own apparently ignored nudity, her head dropped, her pride gone. She knew that I thought she’d done no wrong, and had only punished her so she could forgive herself.

She knew that was beautiful and desirable to me. But the physical sensations, and her position have a message that reaches deeper than the conscious mind. 

I approved, though she had plenty to be proud of. Her chubby but muscled ass and upper thighs, showing off her new stripes, some raised, some red and some black, and the butt-plug firmly in place, her raised arms and her breasts and nose touching the wall: they were all powerful sexual signals.

It was ten past three. Her daughter, Tara, would be let out of school in twenty minutes.

I said, “Claire.”

“Yes, Master?” She spoke straight ahead, to the wall. She learned fast. Or she’d thought about giving herself in submission before.

“Put the robe on. We’re going to your place first. Then I’ll take you to mine. You need more, Claire. Isn’t that right?”

“I know you owe me two more strokes, Master.” Then she thought about that answer. “Yes! Of course I need more, Master!” She broke position, and stepped to the clothes rack, taking the robe from its hook.

She realized how little protection it offered, looked at me for a second, aware of my regard for her naked body, and shrugged herself into it. “And… I believe I need fucking, Master?”

I pressed my fingers against her butt plug, getting it a little deeper.

“Good girl. That’s right. Carry these.” I passed her the bags with her clothing, and the clothing her daughter Tara had shoplifted. She took them. They were, in different ways, heavy and meaningful burdens. I picked up the medium cane. She was due two more strokes, though I doubted she could keep it down to just two. 

She was a responsible adult. A mother with a child. A working woman. So I took her by her ear, twisted it till it hurt, and led her, cringing in my grasp, through corridors to the car park where my car waited.

I drove her to her home first, following her directions. I let her get out of the car and didn’t follow her while she put the bag of stolen clothes back under Tara’s bed. If she stayed inside there was nothing I could do about it. There was nothing to make her come back to me. Except desire. I waited.

Lewis Carroll’s Re-Joycings!

 I wrote a series of stories, in which the punchline was always a deeply stupid re-working of the celebratory chortle from Jabberwocky: “Oh frabjous day! Calloo callay!” 

I promised to collect them. 

I thought there were five or six of them, but tragically I can only find four. But here we go! And here they are:

  1. HP Lovecraft rang his friend Lewis Carroll. “My doom is upon me! The Great Dead Old One moved into the Alpine house next door! He’s tentacular, and his Doomed House keeps getting nearer and – AAARRRGH!” Silence. Carroll hung up. He breathed, “Oh frabjous day! Cthulu Chalet!”
  2. Lewis Carroll was concerned that moorland drainage and increased forest growth was leading to the extinction of a species of long-billed, wading birds.  But John Ruskin told him there were still plenty in France. “Oh frabjous day,” breathed Carroll. “Curlews in Calais!”
  3. After Lewis Carroll left the dentist, his fillings started picking a strange radio signal from the future: the B-52s singing “Love Shack”, through a fracture in time. He listened, appalled, and said, “O fractious day! Canoodle chalet?”
  4. Lewis Carroll fell asleep while he was out in his inflatable canoe. It got caught by the wind and blown across the channel. Eventually he saw a guy sunbathing on a beach. He called out, “Where am I?” The Frenchman realised this must be a lost Englishman. He said, “O frabjous day! Canoe to Calais!”

And, just for Jabberwocky re-working fans, here’s one more: 

5.    Lewis Carroll was talking to Dickens, after his triumphant American tour. Dickens told him one of the odder sights was what the Americans called, “eckdysiasts”. “What is that?” asked Carroll. “Essentially, they dance and take their clothes off. After they’ve undressed they still dance, but use balloons to cover certain bits of their bodies.” “Oh frabjous day!” said Carroll. “Balloon ballet!”


E(lust): Simple as 123!

Elust 123

Photo courtesy of Deviant Succubus

Welcome to Elust 123

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #124? Start with the rules, come back November 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Bittersweet Symphony

Breast cancer awareness – check your boobs

The devil is in the detail…

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Metamorphosis: Fat, Fit and In Between

Contraception- life without birth control

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Erotic Non-Fiction

Take It To The Limit
Spank me Red
Custom Made Cuckold Porn

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

The Image (1975): The Celluloid Dungeon
Return to CMnf
Latex for the Curious – Catsuits
Negotiating a stunt cock
Ruby Ring Piece
13 reasons why I love play parties
You Got a Piercing Where?

Erotic Fiction

Alice’s Minotaur: A Ravishment Tale
Shadow of You
The Jealous Wife
What we both want
Rugby world cup I only care about the fucking
The Red Thread

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Loosing My Virginity
5 things that encourage Dominance
My Happy Place is an 80s (Sex) Mansion

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Sex Work – How My Views Have Changed
Golden Brown

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Paradise Lost – Vale Sir Lust
My Nexplanon Implant Story: The Procedure

E[{lust} 121: That Jerusalem Mortimer guy, he’s a top blogger this month!

Photo courtesy of Steeled Snake

Welcome to Elust 121

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #122? Start with the rules, come back September 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


Breathe with me

DID and Relationships: It’s Complicated!

Neck constriction, choking and death

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Her Future Husband


~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

it’s the humilation

Erotic Non-Fiction

Pleasure of the Unknown
A Face Fuck
Room with a View
Varna Nirvana

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

My thoughts on humiliation
Tell me about… Power Exchange
That time I dumped George Clooney


How To Use Your Stats When You’re Stumped

Erotic Fiction

those three words
A Lesson
Love in the Dunes
The Answer
Public Punishment
The forgotten instruction

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Taking Rejection Online
I vow to…
Capable: Two Cocks, One Hole
How To Be Vulnerable When Dating

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Books to Start a Party in Your Pants
Being fuck positive in public