La jeune fille est peut-être seulement heureux. Mais le jeun homme, il est certainement joyeux.
That’s because the young man is observing his young lady at rest, and marvelling at her beauty. And because he knows that the paddle lying discreetly beside her is about to come into play. And come out to play.
A moment of joy? Absolument!
Her name was Monica. I picked her up at the Opera House. There was a performance of Die Zauberflöte, and we noticed each other because we were the worst dressed people there.
She wore a pair of jeans that had been artistically torn and frayed to show off yummy bits of front and rear thigh. I wore a pair of jeans that had frayed at the crotch, because I’d been working in the garden, forgot the time, and had to race out in whatever I was wearing, it I didn’t wanted to get shut out.
At interval I bought her a glass of champagne, and we talked about the opera for a while. She said it made no sense to her: she couldn’t see what it was about, the character Monostatos is a racist caricature, and she didn’t give a toss about any of the characters.
Except possibly Papageno, the bird-catcher, and she could see that he was a really obvious piece of “like me!” audience manipulation.
As a paid-up Mozartean I shouldn’t have agreed with her, but I did. I told her that the guy who wrote the words, Schikaneder, had written the Papageno role for himself, so the audience would love him and he’d get all the laughs. She nodded. That figured. I had to warn her that if she wasn’t thrilled with the action at half-time, it was going to get worse. The plot turns extremely, annoyingly sexist, and nothing to be done about it. Even the racism gets slightly worse.
So at least Schikaneder gave us something to talk about: how crap he was. We got through two champagnes, and checked each other out. I decided that she had lovely tawny brown skin, probably Southern Italian or Greek, or maybe mid-Eastern, and I’d like to see every inch of that skin. And her mouth was a big sexy bruise, and her eyes were soulful and sad.
I’d certainly take her to bed. I just had to hope that she decided the same. After the show I took her to a restaurant on the Quay, and we talked briefly about how you could keep the Mozart music but lose all the Schikaneder. We worked out a completely different plot, that set new words to the same music. Maybe I’ll tell you about that some time.
Then I asked her what she did.
“I’m a hypnotist.”
“Really? Like telling people to stop smoking, or picking their fingernails and such?”
“Well, audiences might be bored by that. I’m a stage hypnotist. I do my thing in a … well, it’s kind of halfway between a leotard and a corset, plus fishnets and heels.”
I said, “Ah-huh!” In case she didn’t know I’d like to see that.
“And I make guys think they’re swimming, or they’re little lambs skipping in the fields.”
“Really? I’ve seen that on TV. I’ve always found it unlikely that anyone could think they were a lamb. But they do the skipping. Do you think they believe it, or are they just playing along?”
She frowned. “You know, I honestly don’t know. I think the hypnosis, when it works, makes them very suggestible. So it’s not so much that they think they’re lambs. It’s more that they think they should act as if they do. That’s where the suggestion works. And of course they’re having fun.”
“So it’s true what people say, that you can use hypnoses to make people do something they want to do? But not something they don’t want?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Like, if I have attractive male and female volunteers, I can tell them they’re lovers meeting at the airport. And it gets very steamy. That’s not for the matinees, of course.”
“Children’s shows? I guess not. So … what would I like to do? That I’d only dare do if I was hypnotised?”
“No. You say. What would you like to do? If you were hypnotised and had no choice?”
“I’ve been thinking about the top button of your blouse since interval. It’s really not necessary.”
She looked at me. She said, “You are getting sleepy. Verry zzzzleepy. Now undo the top button of my blouse.”
So I did, trying to look blank while I did so. Once the button was free I tugged the blouse back at the shoulders, which wasn’t part of the command, and exposed some nice cleavage, held in a black sports bra.
“Yes,” I said. “I feel much better now.”
She smiled. “So that’s my secret power. I can make people do whatever they want.”
So I laughed. “I also have a secret power. Similar effect. Want to see?”
She raised her eyebrows. “OK.” She sounded careful.
I pointed at the button on her blouse just below her breasts.
I spoke quietly but I used the command voice. “That middle button, Monica. I want you to undo it for me. Now.”
She stared at me. That was interesting. And I could tell she knew what it was. She frowned.
But before she could speak I said, “That button. Undo that button for me, as you’ve been told. Now, Monica.”
She closed her mouth, still staring at me. I said, “I’m waiting.”
I waited.
It was the first time Arethusa was ever seriously punished. We both knew it was a milestone for us, and we both wanted a record.
Arethusa turned out to have a three-stage reaction to punishment, especially when it involved the cane.
The year continued. Seamus and his two loved girls lived together, generally in harmony.
Both girls did better at school, particularly Yua, since Asuka had already been a good girl and devoted to her studies. But even Asuka misbehaved sometimes, though she would never be break rules as spectacularly as Yua. Generally, when either girl had misbehaved in class, or missed an assignment, the teacher of that class would send her to Seamus for discipline.
So Seamus often caned Yua at school, and occasionally did the same for Asuka, who always seemed more genuinely sorry.
And then that girl would come home, where Seamus would whip her soundly for having had to be punished at school.
Generally, the whipped girl was sorry, and would sniffle, lying face down on the bed.
Seamus and the other girl, whichever it was on that occasion, would rub oils and herbal mixes into her buttocks, thighs and upper shoulders. Eventually comfort and arousal would win the battle with pain, and comforting would turn into sexual consolation.
The end of the school year approached. Both girls were on track to graduate with distinction. Seamus had started to wonder if he could marry Asuka, while taking Yua as a concubine. Both Asuka and Yua thought that was a proper arrangement, though it would be unusual for a concubine to be on such close terms with the wife. In any case, he loved them both, and he was securely certain that they loved him, and each other.
Seamus attended their graduation ceremony with Asuka’s father, the jovial and lethal yakuza boss. The man had roared with laughter and slapped his back, when he saw Seamus was carrying – as discreetly as he could – the whip that had got both girls so far and so well. Seamus finally said, “I love your daughter. Sir.”
“I know. She loves you.”
“I would like, with your consent, to marry her.”
“Ad what about the other girl: Yua?”
“Asuka would be unhappy if I didn’t look after her too. Your laws don’t allow for two wives. Nor do ours. But Yua can have a traditionally honourable status.”
Asuka’s father chuckled. “I thought you were an idiot, when I first heard of you. You’re not. And all things being equal, I’d be proud to have you as my son-in-law.”
Seamus heard nuances. “But?”
“It’s a big world, Seamus. One of your poets has it: ‘Our own felicity we make or find.’ Relax and have faith. You will find your felicity.”
Seamus frowned. “With Asuka?”
“Hmm. Possibly. That depends on you.”
.The ceremony was over, and both Yua and Asuka ran, in silly Western caps and gowns, to their Sensei.
[The end.]
The lovely Zoe, looking just a little pink. And half wearing a very pretty white dress from Cuba.
She colours beautifully. I can’t stop myself from adding extra blush.
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.
“You’re just paddling me because you like my arse!”
She made that sound very, very wrong. I said, “Have you been an absolute little brat, all day today?”
“Maybe?”
“I’m going to keep paddling you until you say you’re sorry and you’re going to behave yourself.”
“Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry!”
“Oh, yeah. Also, I have to believe you. Shall we continue?”
She had no answer for that. A little later she squealed.
Jennifer’s Pleats and Please 1: Jennifer’s First Spanking is available through a range of suppliers, including Amazon, here.
What’s it about?
Beautiful young Jennifer Perch has been acting out, and when her Headmaster, Will Beecham, offers her a course of loving discipline, she accepts his offer with caution that soon becomes enthusiasm.
In this volume of Jennifer’s adventures she receives her first spanking, and discovers the sweeter sensations and emotions that discipline can lead to.
We also meet Maddie, Beecham’s secretary, a woman with her own erotic agenda.
An exciting adventure begins…
Review
Note: I’ve had many enthusiastic reader comments on this story. I’ve selected this one, but there are many more:
“This is a-grade erotica in a traditional style and setting, but told by an author with an eye for the telling erotic detail. And character details. These are three-dimensional people. I loved it!” – V Sevigne, reviewer.
From: Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 1: Jennifer’s First Spanking
“Skipping classes is foolish and childish, so you’ll be punished like a little child. Like a fool of a girl. I’m going to give you a spanking.”
Jennifer stared at me, her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide.
“I mean now, Jennifer. Stand up.”
I stood and brought forward the companion chair to the one Jennifer was sitting on. It too was wooden, with a high straight back. Jennifer hadn’t moved yet. I gave her another order, so she had a sense of orders backing up, of things slipping out of her control. “Take off your blazer, Jennifer.”
Still nothing, except furious blushing, her hands clasped between her knees. I spoke sharply. “Or would you rather have the paddle? Naked over my desk like your two friends on Friday?”
It seemed she didn’t want that. She stood up suddenly and took off the blazer. She folded it and draped it over the back of her chair.
I sat in the chair I’d brought out from the wall and placed in the center of the room. “Wise choice. Come here now, girl.”
She did. She stood in front of me. Her knees were shaking. “Please don’t spank me, sir. I’ll do extra work. I’ll … write an essay. Or clean all the blackboards. Anything. I’ll be good, I promise! I – I’ve never been spanked. Never! Please, sir.”
I smiled at her and shook my head. I patted my right thigh. “Bend over my knee, Jennifer.”
Will that girl do as she’s told? And if she does, will she find she’s enjoying herself? To find out the answers to these and many other questions, get your copy of Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 1: Jennifer’s First Spanking
Jennifer’s Pleats and Please 1: Jennifer’s First Spanking is available through a range of suppliers, including Amazon, here.
Special price! US$3.50.
The main reason I like this image so much is, of course, the lovely Zoë leaning over the bed, with her bottom beautifully decorated by my very best efforts.
As is fitting, since this was taken in my native New Zealand, I used the flat of a Maori weapon, the patu (pictured), to do the warming and decoration.
But there’s something else: I just love that elegant towel pulled aside to allow that spanking to be delivered. Its lines, especially the flare where it’s pulled away from her bottom, just perfect this picture for me.
Note: I chose a favourite pic because this is the 500th Sinful Sunday! My congratulations and thanks to Molly for managing this meme so well and for so long!
“Stormy! Stormy! I’ve got the hots for you, honey! The best hots! I know all the hots!”
“Oh?” Miss Daniels looked up from her MAGAzine. “Sorry, I didn’t notice. Your tummy kind of hides that cute Mr Tadpole the way your jowls hide your neck. But…” She sighed, and held out her reader for Donald to press his firm proud, square-jawed credit card against it, with casual familiarity.
There was a pause. Stormy had learned not to move a muscle, Trump-ward, until the cash showed up in her account. At last, after a little electronic chirp, she put down her copy of Hustler and turned off Fucks News.
(Not actually the real DT. More an artist’s impression.)
She put on a white latex glove and lifted the reality TV belly’s dewlap. “I see,” she said, with professional detachment, “these would be the flibbiity floppity hots, Donald?”
“Well, you know I’ve been a very bad property developer. I get harder when I’m punished, Mistress. I love it when you call me names.”
“Racist. Incompetent. Narcissist. Lazy idiot. Creep. Rapist. Psychopath,” sighed Stormy. “Ok, I think what you want is a good spanking, isn’t it?”
The future President brightened.
“I banned black tenants from all my apartments today! Was that bad, Mistress?”
Stormy waved her forefinger in circles, the get-on-with-it gesture. “Then I guess you’d best assume the position.” She moved an elegant thigh forward, and reached for her Hustler.
Donald leaned forward, slowly, and bent, puffing audibly, so that one half of his belly hung over the right-hand side of Miss Daniel’s presented thigh, and the other half bulged over the left. “I’ve been the baddest. Like you would never believe. People come up and tell me, they say they’d never seen badness like mine. Some of them are even crying.”
Stormy sighed again. She rolled the Hustler into a tight cylinder and secured it with a rubber band. “I bet,” she said.
She began to spank her client vigorously.
Though she was trying to hit hard, the sound that filled the room was not the usual crisp spanking sound. It was more like a live gerbil striking a pillow full of custard.
Stormy closed her eyes and thought about money. And long, hot showers.
Note: Marie at Wicked Wednesday invited us to write turn-offs, this week. I believe I’ve lived up to the assignment.