Some days you just don’t want to get out of bed. But it doesn’t matter what you want: you’re staying where you are. Help less. Your Master has a riding crop in his hand and an erection. He is smiling. You can guess some of the things that will happen soon. But not all.
So bed is a good place to be. 
Yvain, kneeling with her Seigneur’s cock deep in her mouth, had been surprised by how easy this was. The cock went deep in her throat when she took all of him, her nose and lips in his dark pubic hair, but she’d found that by thinking of relaxing things, and self-discipline she could stop the gag reflex.
She remember her Seigneur saying that Gisela had had to be caned often before she learned to control that, and she felt briefly smug. This was not so unpleasant, and she was, obviously good at it. Better than the Mayor’s wife.
Then the Seigneur, who’d been keeping perfectly still while she pleasured him, sighed with pleasure. The hand that held her hair opened, to press the back of her skull.
He pushed her firmly forward while, for the first time, his cock moved in her mouth, questing deeper.
She felt a moment’s panic as the head of his cock, well engorged, seeming huge in her mouth, slid into her throat. She wasn’t ready for this, and it was much harder. She managed to suppress the urge to cough, to try to get that obstruction out of her throat. But the effort cost her tears.
Now he was fucking her mouth and throat, the firm press of his hand allowing her no lee-way. She managed to take him, her eyes wild with fear that she might fail him and deserve more punishment, tears streaming with the effort of control. At last the movement of the cock in her mouth slowed, then stopped.
The Seigneur said, “You’re doing well, Yvain. And I know you’re trying your best.”
Yvain tried to speak, his cock like an iron bar in her mouth. “‘An you, ‘y Seigneur.”
He slid out of her, so she could kiss him, that hard, soft, sensitive skin, then take him in again.
“This next part is going to be harder for you, Yvain. I’m going to fuck your mouth hard and fast. And when I come – you know that I will release a sort of fluid into your mouth, don’t you?”
“‘es, ‘y Seigneur.”
“You will swallow it all, and then you will clean my cock with your mouth. If you miss a drop you will be flogged. As you’d expect. Stand up, girl.”
Yvain kissed the Seigneur’s cock, then again as she, more than he, withdrew until it was free in the air. Then she stood. “Seigneur?”
“The beldam is in the room next to this. Go to her, and tell her you are a passable cock-sucker, but that you will need discipline for the next stage. Ask her, most politely, to bring her heaviest cane.”
“My Seigneur, I think I can – “
He reached forward and slapped her face. The blow did not hurt. But it’s meaning did. She had overstepped herself and displeased him. “I have not given you permission to argue with me, little slut. I don’t think I ever will. Ask the beldam to begin by giving you six of the best, immediately, for insolence.”
Yvain felt stricken. How had she been so foolish? She said, “I’m sorry, my – “
“Twelve of the best. And you are to tell her you will take them in complete silence, no matter how hard she canes you. Go, Yvain.”
Yvain nodded, and made a gesture that would have been a curtsy if she’d been wearing a stick of clothing. She glimpsed herself in a mirror as she she turned and opened the door into the corridor. She was becoming a new person. A sorer and a happier girl.
A guard, outside, smiled when he saw her, but said nothing. She went and tapped nervously at the beldam’s door. Then she took a breath, fortifying herself, and knocked louder.
We’d been fucking constantly for nearly two days. Her cunt and my cock were getting tender, though she was a wet girl and we hadn’t lost any skin. We stopped fucking only for occasional bursts of food.
She’d made soup the day before, so that and warm bread was what we had when we weren’t fucking. The only other reason for not fucking was for me to apply my paddle or my belt to her arse. I liked the heat of her arse when I fucked her from behind her behind.
But we’d discovered each other, and we woke up something in each other: skin hunger. We needed to hold tight, to fuck, and I needed to colour her beautiful arse and thighs as much as I could. Her skin needed to feel me, hard, in every sense, on her skin. We still weren’t finished with each other. Skin hunger.
But then, while I was spanking her with my hand, after I’d put down the paddle, I realised she wasn’t quite with me any more. She’d fallen asleep while getting spanked. I’ve never had that happen before, or since. So I got onto her bed and pulled her up beside me. She settled in my arms and kissed my neck, still asleep. I probably dropped off too, for an hour or so.
But we weren’t finished.
Yvain, not sure she wasn’t a mouse, met the Seigneur’s eyes. He stood above her where she knelt. He was smiling, but what caught her attention was not his eyes. His cock – she knew what it was called, at least – jutted towards her, pointing at where her breasts would be if she were standing.
She’d never seen one in that state before, not even Matteo, her groom. Her husband, she thought. Her adventures were making him seem further from her, smaller in her life. The Seigneur stood a step towards her, so that cock was almost touching the bridge of her nose. She found herself going cross-eyed. It was a large shaft, corrugated with veins, with a bulbous head.
She saw and felt the Seigneur put his hand on the back of her head. He did not hold or guide her. It was more like a caress, but she knew if she resisted that hand would be firmer in its grip and more insistent on controlling her movements. She heard him say, “You remember what Gisela showed you? What you are to do?”
Yvain nodded, flustered, a little nervous. “Yes, my Seigneur. I watched carefully.”
“Then – when I say Now; not before – take me in your mouth slowly. We’re in no hurry. You pause once you’ve taken the head in your mouth, then slide yourself forward so it’s completely in you. You relax, so you don’t gag. If you gag, or I feel your teeth, Yvain, or you let me slip out of your mouth, or I’m not satisfied that that sucking hard enough, I shall cane you. Severely.” The hand on her head caressed her hir and scalp lightly when he threatened to cane her, and the cock somehow seemed to expend slightly, though she’d not have thought that was possible. She opened her mouth, and closed her eyes. Hew said, at last, “Now, girl.”
Yvain leaned forward and caught that bobbing head between her lips. She kissed it softly, as she might a friend’s new born baby, wanting to show him some of the tenderness she felt. The head of his cock in her mouth: she wanted to remember that moment. It was less dramatic than she’d expected, and yet there was one of her virginities flown. The head of his cock was an odd mix of hard and soft: rock hard in a way, but the skin seemed soft like a peach’s.
She smiled and pressed forward, feeling his hand caress the back of her head, fondly and without force. She pressed forward, taking more of the shaft. She raised herself a little on her knees, so she could take more letting it enter her throat. She closed her eyes and thought a running water, which always calmed her, and managed to relax despite this invasion.
She moved forward again, so the cock was entirely in her mouth and throat, and her nose was in his black pubic hair. He was washed – which Matteo would not have been – and she smelled only salt, a trace of neroli oil, and something she recognised as pleasantly masculine. It was the first time she had been close to an aroused man. Now she could hardly be closer. She kissed the based of his shaft, and then drew in her cheeks, sucking hard, and slowly moved her head back. She heard his gasp and knew that sound was tribute. She was doing right and well.
Her Seigneur breathed the words, “Good girl, Yvain,” and moved his feet further apart, so he was braced. Still moving slowly, Yvain inched her head forward, taking her lord into her once more.
Some girls get dick pics. Slavegirls get pics of a nice pervertable, found in a supermarket, plus a “?”
She texted back, “Yes, please!”
So my shopping was done. But as a good, loving Master, I still had work to do…
Yvain had endured the walk back to t he Seigneur’s quarters with less humiliation and more calm than she’d expected. She was naked, her bottom and flanks well marked by him and his servants, and the cane she held in her mouth that told that her experience of discipline was far from over.
She realised that she even felt a certain pride: those things were signs. They meant he possessed her, and that in turn meant it pleased him to own her, and that she was chosen.
And if he’d chosen to make her his then so, in a way, he had given a little of himself to her.
She smiled at that thought as she walked back through the door into the the Seigneur’s room. She walked to the middle of the room and, hoping it would please him, turned to face him without waiting for a command, and sank to her knees. “May I please you, my Seigneur?”
He laughed. “You’re getting brave, little Yvain.” He stood looking down at her. She felt a moment’s fear, cold in her belly. He said, “Don’t be afraid. I want you obedient and respectful. I don’t want a mouse.
[Sorry. I’ve run out of time. To be continued next week.]
After a caning, and a cuddle and other comforts, Arethusa was supposed to think about her misconduct. And wait for me to come back with tea, bickies and condoms.
But … you can’t always wait, can you?
Yvain watched Gisela’s face closely, her lips pressed against her Seigneur’s groin, holding all of his cock in her mouth. Her cheeks dimpled as she sucked, At last, after a minute with the Seigneur’s cock deep in her throat she moved back a little, exposing a couple of centimetres of the Seigneur’s pale shaft to Yvain’s fascinated gaze, and took a breath.
The breath was a single gasp and then she moved forward to take the penis entirely into her mouth. She reached up to hold the backs of his thighs, just under his buttocks, and began to move her bead backwards and forwards, mimicking the motions of fucking. The Seigneur stood perfectly still, and he looked down not at Gisela, whose eyes were fixed on his, but at Yvain. Yvain was aware of his gaze, but kept her eyes, obediently, on Gisela, and the shaft of his cock as it appeared and disappeared. Gisela gurgled as his cock moved in her. It did not seem an unhappy sound.
The Seigneur held the back of Gisela’s head, forcing her face hard against him. He said to Yvain, “You’re impressed that she can take so much, aren’t you?”
Yvain was flustered. “Ah, yes. Yes, I am, my Seigneur. Though I do not know how I could – “
“The trick is to relax and learn not to gag, when the cock goes deep. Your own physical reactions are unimportant.”
Yvain nodded. It would be hard to learn, but she wanted to. The Seigneur said, “You will be taught to control your reactions.” He looked down at Gisela, meeting her gaze. “You were once no good at this at all, you remember?”
Gisela, her mouth still full, nodded almost imperceptibly. She mouthed, “”‘Ess, Seigneur.”
“How did you learn?”
Gisela had to open her mouth very wide to speak. “Karl stwapped me. When I gagged.”
The Seigneur smiled and did not answer her. His hand held her head tight and for the first time he began to move, fucked the kneeling woman’s mouth and throat. Yvain loved the visible movement of his cock inside Gisela’s mouth, bulging sometimes at her cheek. She was sure she could do most of what Gisela did, the steady, fervent suction, the keeping her teeth clear of the cock, and her tongue busy.
Still, she doubted if she could take it so deep and hold it without choking, as Gisela had learned. She was also sure that her Seigneur would have no hesitation in training her, with some implement to make her gasp and cry, and obey. She supposed that there would always be a point when a sore bottom, and the desire to avoid extra strokes, outweighed all other considerations. She knew she would learn to do what was required.
At last the Seigneur grunted, and then froze, his body locked, suddenly immobile. He said, “No, not this time, girl,” to Gisela, and pushed her back. His hard cock shone in the air, gleaming with Gisela’s fluids but not his. Yvain stared: it was the first time she’d seen it clear and in readiness. It seemed bigger than the spaces in her body she expected he would put it. At the same time, she was not afraid: it would hurt her, she was sure, but not in an unpleasant way.
Gisela had sat back, still on her knees, her hands now dropped to the floor, still holding eye contact. “As my Seigneur pleases.”
The Seigneur said, “Good girl, Gisela. Though it’s Karl you’ll need to please now. Go.” Gisela dropped to her hands and knees, and crossed to room to where Karl was sitting on the bed. She crouched at his feet.
The Seigneur snapped his fingers. “Yvain.”
She straightened up and came close. Her Seigneur was looking at a rack of implements on Karl’s wall. At last he selected a cane.
He turned and pressed it to her lips. “I don’t think I’ll need to hear from you for a while, girl. Open.”
Yvain decided not to say, “Yes Seigneur”, and simply obeyed. The rattan length seemed very hard in her mouth. Her Seigneur smacked her bottom, and she felt it as affection, fondness, perhaps more.
She smiled at him, the cane pressing against the corners of her mouth.
The Seigneur turned his attention to Karl, who was now receiving service from Gisela’s mouth, her hair flowing down her back, her hands at his waist.
“Karl, let the Mayor know he’s not getting his wife back till tomorrow. And send her to me at eight tonight.”
“Yes, Seigneur.” Karl’s voice was guttural. He had Gisela’s hair clutched in his hand, and he pulled that clump back so she had to hurt herself to move forward on him. Her gurgles suggested that she liked that very much.
The Seigneur smacked Yvain again. He was smiling, and she smiled back. “Another time I might walk you on a leash, hands and knees, back to my rooms. But that’s very slow, fun though it can be. For some reason I seem to be in a hurry, at the moment. You walk in front of me. Go!”
Yvain, greatly daring, wiggled as she opened the door out to the corridor.
Heat, colour and desire, in the dark.
Arethusa in disgrace. Hands on head, nose in the corner.
I didn’t make her do that often, and when she had to wait for discipline, she knew I thought her offence was serious and the punishment was going to be serious as well.
In this case she’d handed an essay in two days’ late, so it only got marked out of 80%. She’d both disobeyed a direct order AND harmed her own interests, and she knew that those were the two things I said I’d never accept.
When I took this photo I said, “You know you deserve what’s coming, don’t you? You can speak.”
Arethusa said, “Yes, of course I know that, Master. I don’t know why I can’t get started on essays till it’s too late. Even though I know you’ll punish me.”
“I know, punishment doesn’t fix all of the problems. But I’m afraid it’s part of the answer.”
She nodded to herself. This was true.
“Afterwards,” I said, “We’ll talk about it.”*