Bedroom Eyes 29

Posted on September 11, 2023 by jaime

There was fingernail skittering at the bedroom door, quite low, like a cat scratching to be let in. I said, “Come in!”

A second passed, then the handle turned. Another second passed and the pair of them emerged into the room, Stephanie on her hands and knees, and Maires on her back riding her. Both were naked, their clothes presumably shed in the kitchen. Maires had one hand on Stephanie’s right ear, while her left hand was behind her, holding the riding crop against Stephanie’s left thigh.

Stephanie’s face was a bright red, with darker patches at her cheekbones. Her eyes and nose still ran.

She had, after all, just taken a more severe whipping than I’d ever given Maires, or any submissive. She looked at at the carpet, uncertain if she had permission to look at me or speak. A glistening drop ran down her nose and onto the carpet. I realised that the darker red around her cheekbones wasn’t due to embarrassment but abrasion. When Stephanie had been serving Maires, Maires had clamped her face hard between her thighs, and Stephanie had had to push hard to work her mouth and tongue while tightly held.

Maires said, “Thank you, Master.” She might have been thanking me for permission to enter or her use of Stephanie.

“You’ve obviously had a good time, Maires. But has my new girl had a good time as well?”

Maires said, “I don’t think my ride has ever been so certain, before, that she’s in the place she belongs. And she’s happy to be in her place. Would you mind if I show you, Master?”

“Of course.”

Maires took Stephanie’s right ear in a firmer grip and pulled. Stephanie began to turn, Maires still riding her, until she presented her – and Maires’s for that matter – buttocks and thighs. But while Maires was only lightly marked from discipline I’d given her earlier, Stephanie’s bottom and legs were one large and painful-looking red blotch: a vista of red with occasional darker stripes where the crop had taken her particularly hard.

Maires stood then, her thighs straddling Stephanie, and dismounted. She crossed to the bed and passed me the riding crop. She said, “She took her floggings, and her service well, for a new slave. If I’ve done wrong, Master, please punish me.” She turned away from me and bent herself like a jackknife, her fingertips touching her toes. That was a position she always found slightly uncomfortable, and by choosing it she was making assurances to me about our relationship.

Both women were beautiful, desirable, and presented. I was tempted to take Maires’s offer, and whip her while she was presented, for my own pleasure. Perhaps also because I was slightly ashamed of myself for not having understood the depth of submission that Stephanie wanted, and I was slightly cross with Maires for having been more astute than I’d been.

But while those might be reasons for wanting to flog Maires, they were not good reasons for actually doing it.

I said to Maires, “I’ll deal with you later. For now, get up, love, and stand with your nose to the wall.”

“Yes, Master.” Maires put her hands on her head and walked to press herself against the wall, feet a little apart. She walked to the wall and put her hands on her head, a lithe woman, a clever woman, a woman who knew the relatively pale state of her own skin would not last.

I looked at Stephanie, on her knees with her back to me, her bottom and thighs thoroughly and remorselessly whipped. “You on your hands and knees! Come here!”

Stephanie made to turn and I said, “No! Backwards! Come here, girl.”

She made a sound of understanding, then said, “Yes, Master.” I watched her approach, her cunt and smaller hole seeming to watch me as she crawled. She stopped when I laid the shaft of the crop on her lower back.

I said, “Spread,” and she acknowledged the order then moved her knees about half a metre apart, her back arched like a cat. I clasped her cunt, hard, between two fingers, not seeking to give her pleasure or reward. She was wonderfully wet, slippery, engorged: I released my grip on her labia and spanked her, starting at medium hard and quickly building up to full punishment spanking.

But I’d have to stop soon, I realised. It was hard not giving Stephanie loving words, to let her know that though we hurt her physically we loved her. As well, she was enjoying the feel of my bare hand against her cunt too much. I shouldn’t be giving Stephanie pleasure. Her world had to be harsh, for now. So I stopped the spanking and said, “Maires taught you a lot about your place, didn’t she?”

“Oh, yes, Master. Thank you, Mistress!” Maires, her body pressed against the wall, said nothing. She knew she didn’t have permission to speak.

[To be continued]

Wicked Wednesday: In the Realm of the Sensei 33

Posted on November 19, 2020 by jaime

Note: Sorry, I skipped a couple of weeks, with this serial. The previous episode is here.

But where we’re at now is that Seamus and Asuka’s friend Yua has just licked Asuka to orgasm while Seamus fucked her from behind. The three of them are now lying on the floor, in a pleasant post-sex haze.

In the Realm of the Sensei

Seamus found himself softening at last, and he had to withdraw from Yua’s cunt, with one finger pressed on the rim of the condom so it came with him. He saw Asuka watching him, amused. He knew she thought the faces he pulled, when he had to withdraw from her, were hilarious: she thought he looked like he was being tortured. Cast out of heaven, certainly.

He rolled onto his side and looked at the two young womens. Asuka lay on her back, thighs parted and her hand on Yua’s hair. Yua lay on her tummy, now Seamus was no longer inside her, licking and kissing Asuka’s lightly trembling belly.

Seamus knew that immediately after she’d come Asuka felt her cunt was too sensitive to touch, and she generally directed his attention to her belly, or if he was still insistently horny she’d take his cock in her mouth, or turn and offer her asshole. That was always an invitation he found hard to resist.

But he was surprised that Yua knew not to touch Asuka’s cunt immediately after she’d come. Then he thought about that and stopped being surprised. Yua had had his girl before. Without his knowledge. Or consent, of course. He reached over and smacked Yua’s bottom, lightly and prettily cane-striped, and when Yua purred at that, he smacked her again. The stripes, he noted, were already starting to fade. He’d applied the cane lightly, to both girls.

He said, “All right, you two. Bed.” He helped Asuka to her feet. Yua stood without his help, and got another hard spank as reward. He wanted to make them walk in front of him, but both Yua and Asuka came to his side and put an arm round his waist, so he put an arm over each girl’s shoulder and they walked together.

When they landed on his bed Asuka tried to put her mouth on his cock, but he took a handful of her hair and pulled her back up. Asuka knelt facing him. “Sensei, we have something to talk about.”

“Yes?”

“Yua. Yua wants to live with us.” Seamus glanced at Yua. She kept her face blank and said nothing. Then she got off the bed, and knelt on the floor, looking up at him. Obviously Asuka was to be her mouthpiece.

Seamus smiled. “Well, she can visit.”

“Please, Sensei. She knows that her and me, we can make yours the happiest cock in the world. We’d both like that. You can keep us happy.”

“I said, she can visit.”

“But she trusts you. Same as I do. You will look after her, and she knows you’d make her work hard at school. Not just in your classes, but you could make sure she worked in all her classes. She should be a top student, shouldn’t she?”

Seamus glanced at Yua, who stayed kneeling and impassive. He said, “Well, Yua likes discipline too much. Even if I caned her every time she didn’t do her work – which would be every day – she’d still enjoy herself.”

Yua reached under the bed. She held a flat cardboard box, in gold paper, and handed it to Asuka. Then she returned to her kneeling position, looking up at Seamus.

Asuka held the box out to him. “She got you this. It’s to show you that she’s serious. And this … this is something she is afraid of.”

Seamus frowned, but took the box. He tore the paper off, screwed it into a ball, and, after a second’s thought, held it to Yua’s mouth. Yua opened obediently, and took the paper between her teeth. It was, perhaps, the first time he’d seen her do something submissive that wasn’t fun. He opened the box.

There lay, coiled, a little whip with a wooden handle and a tail of hard, woven leather, a little longer than his arm. He took it, wonderingly, and looked down at Yua. She was nervous, he saw. She bit on the ball of paper in her mouth, trying to swallow. Asuka said, “Yua says she can’t imagine enjoying this. She says you may use it on her whenever you wish. As hard as you wish. But she will do whatever she can not to deserve it.”

Asuka looked down. His cock, he knew, was hardening, lengthening. She knew that she, and therefore Yua, had already won.

She said, “Of course you will use it on me, too. But I already know that’s not my choice to make.”

Seamus took the whip in his hand and put the box on his bed. He turned to Yua, and took the paper from her mouth and dropped it on the floor. She closed her mouth but did not otherwise move. Seamus couldn’t hold back a smile, though he tried. “Yua, I suppose Asuka can find you space in her drawers and the wardrobe for your stuff.”

“I already have, Sensei!” Seamus ignored her.

“Yua, we have a lot of rules to talk about. And you know you’ve already deserved your first touch of this -” He shook the whip.

“Hoippu,” said Yua. It was the Japanese word for “whip”.

“What?”

“I mean, I’d like to think of you as Hoippu. The man with the whip, who whips me. Hoippu Sensei. May I address you as that?”

Seamus didn’t answer. He knew that she already knew the answer to that. He would be Hoippu Sensei. He said, “Yua, this bed appears to be yours, now. A third of it, anyway. So, welcome to the household.”

He wasn’t sure who moved first. But within a second he was on his back, completely covered in squealing girls.

Psyche whipped

Posted on August 19, 2017 by jaime

When a Greek myth has someone being whipped, is it sexual?

Well, if the whipping is ordered by Aphrodite, goddess of sexual love, then it generally is. The drawing is of Psyche being whipped while her lover’s mother, Aphrodite, watches. Aphrodite is the goddess of sexual love, and her son, Eros, is the god of lust, from whom we get the word “erotic”. And Eros is living with, and in love with, a very nice human girl called Psyche.

There’s a lot of symbolism going on in this “myth”, which like a lot of myths may have been invented relatively recently as a literary concoction. That is, it dates back to Apuleius’s novel The Golden Ass, written in the second century CE, rather than from time immemorial like, say, the myth of the great war between the Olympian gods and the Titans.

The reason I think the whipping is sexual, in its place in the book, is that Apuleius is very aware of different strands of sexuality, including “sadism”.

By making Aphrodite the spectator of Psyche’s whipping, Auileius is allowed to present it for the reader’s enjoyment and entertainment. As for the artist, he is definitely portraying the event as erotic.

I guess the central thread of the symbolism is that we all hope that Psyche, or “mind”, has some effect on our lusts and loves.

At other times, some of us want to be whipped and hurt and to sacrifice ourselves and suffer physically for our love. Which Psyche manages to do. And survive and find happiness.

The artist, François Boucher, was rumoured to be an admirer of whipped female skin, and his wife to be a participant in his pleasures. There are questions we ask about relationships and consent these days that simply weren’t asked in the eighteenth century, so we don’t know if Mme Boucher enjoyed those sessions. We can only hope she did.

Mouth to mouth 12: “Ropes? There are ropes on this bed?”

Posted on November 30, 2015 by jaime

I didn’t know what woke me. Not at first. Qing slept beside me, her tiny body coiled, with her head half under her pillow and her little ass pushed back at me for her comfort and mine. A cord I’d noticed before we slept, one of the four tied to the bedends, lay on the sheet near her mouth, wet with her drool. Another comforter, I supposed. When she slept alone.

I lay on my side behind her, my arm over her shoulder resting on the swelling of her left breast. In the times I was awake and hard, I’d enjoyed its insistent arousal in my palm.

Through the night I’d listened to her sleeping breathing, with my cock sometimes hard in the warm, comfortable gap between the top of her thighs.

Sometimes I’d soften and drift towards sleep, but whenever she moved I’d wake up and my cock would straighten, wanting her.

(That gap at the top of the thighs: it’s the sub-pudendal inter-gracile fossa. The name for that part of the body is my contribution to medical science. It may be useless – I mean my contribution – but it‘s sexy.)

But I must have slept for few hours, eventually, because some time after four in the morning I woke up. Qing had reached back to hold and enclose my cock in her right hand. I could feel my heart-beat, held inside that little cage of fingers.

There were no curtains on her window, and outside I could see light in the gaps between the trees. There’d be birdsong soon. But in her room it was still dark and quiet. I watched her shoulder rise and fall with her breathing. Qing must have sensed that I’d woken up, because although she didn’t move at first, she made a satisfied, happy noise, and stroked the underside of my cock with her thumb.

I sucked in a breath, intending her to hear and understand that I was awake, and that it was okay for her to know it. I wanted her to feel certain that I was pleased to find myself in her bed, and to find her wanton again. Qing ran her thumb up and down the underside of my cock, still holding me lightly with her fingers, until the sensation was almost unbearable. Whenever she touched me my cock jumped like a salmon climbing a rapid.

She turned over at last, and kissed my belly. I said, “ahh..” But she moved lower, down the bed.

I suspected that I should stop her. Or I kind of did. I was sure I’d come far too soon if she sucked me. And while coming in Qing’s mouth wasn’t the worst thing I could think of, I’d prefer to delay a bit longer.

But she took the head of my cock in her mouth, and I no longer had the willpower to tell her to stop. I let her please me. If she’d been mine and submissive I’d have trained her a little more: teaching her how to suck as hard as I want without getting her teeth in the way, and I’d have wanted to make my points with the help of a rope’s end.

Still, I don’t think it’s possible for a man not to be pleased with a woman with her mouth full with his cock.

But I remembered that rope’s end, the cords that had been in her mouth while she slept. I found that they stretched as far as the cleft between her buttocks, and I gave her a series of light strokes across the near half of her ass, to encourage her.

Qing frowned. I doubted that she’d ever been whipped before. But the strokes were light-ish – the way she’d soaked the end with her drool helped to make it land across her skin a little harder – and they helped her with rhythm.

I hoped she also felt the strokes were interestingly, enjoyably perverse. She seemed to be happy, so I kept her whipping going. Then I made the strokes harder, and Qing came up for air. She was hesitant about speaking. She was trying to remember something.

“You’d asked me about these, when I was drifting off, didn’t you?”

The phrasing told me what was missing. “Jaime. I’m Jaime,” I said. And to show off, I added, “And you’re Qing.”

“Jaime, sorry. Anyway, you’re only more or less righ’ with my name. You don’t qui’e get the ‘chj’ sound. So: Jaime.”

“C’est moi. Anyway, I thought this” – I whacked her ass again with the cords – “was interesting. Not every girl has ropes tied onto her bedends?”

“Well, not every boy pays any attention to them. You’re the first, actually. An’ … I didn’t put them there. I just – what’s the word? – inhabited? No, inherent?”

“Inherited?”

“Ah-yuh. I inherited the bed when I took the room. And the ropes were already there. I just never took them off. It was too hard.”

I had a little pile of things I’d taken from my pockets when I’d undressed: the condoms, but also my phone, keys, some cash and my Swiss Army knife. I held up the knife, with all blades closed. “Really? You couldn’t get them off, and that’s why they’re still here? It’s very easy to fix that. I can cut them off right now if you like.”

“No! It’s ok!” She was trying to sound casual. She didn’t remotely succeed.

So I said, “Well, whether they stay or go, would you like to try them on? Now?”

Qing dropped her head and licked my cock again. She busied herself with that project, and said nothing.

“Qing, I can’t do anything unless you say the magic word.”

“Please?”

“Okay, magic words: say, ‘yes, please’.

“‘Yes, please’.”

“Not quite yet. First I tell you that I’ll put you on your tummy. And that I’ll tie your feet apart, and your hands together behind your back. And among other things, I’ll fuck you while you can’t move.”

“Tha’ would be your turn-on, would it?”

“I’d enjoy m’self, for sure. But the question’s what you want. Now: ‘yes, please’, or ‘no thanks’?”

“Ah… And how do -“

I don’t know what she was going to ask, but I know delaying tactics when I hear them. So I smacked her bottom with her saliva-soaked cord again. She said, “Aa-aiie!”

I smiled at her, as though I were a reasonable man. “So that’s a ‘no, thanks’?”

“No.” That sounded considered. “I mean, it’s not ‘no thanks’. It is ‘yes, please’. If you promise to remember tha’ I haven’t done this before.”

“Good girl. Very good girl.” I put my hand on the small of her back. “Now spread your legs.”