Sinful Sunday: The Warm Dream

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. 

 

Wicked Wednesday: Droit de Seigneur 13

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. 

Wicked Wednesday: Droit de Seigneur 12

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.]

Wicked Wednesday: Droit de Seigneur 11

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.

 

 

 

Sinful Sunday: In disgrace

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.”*

 

  • Actually, afterwards there was care and after-punishment sex, and then after-sex sleep. So the talking part of “afterwards” began quite late. The solution involved Arethusa keeping me advised of each essay topic and hand-in date, with a compulsory slavegirl/Master talk about how she was going to approach her essay a week before hand-in day, and the essay to be sent to me the day before hand-in deadline, so I could proof it for typos, clarity etc. She never did completely avoid university crimes, after that, but at least the serious ones became rare.

 

Wicked Wednesday: Droit de Seigneur 10

Yvain rode on her Seigneur’s back as he carried her through the tower corridors and stairs. They were both naked. Her arms were round his shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist so her cunt pressed hot and wet against the small of his back. 

Occasionally they passed servants, male or female, who stepped to the wall when they saw the Seigneur approaching. With her bottom and thighs red from the strap and the Seigneur’s riding crop, and her thighs as widely spread as they could be, she knew she presented an indecent spectacle, and she could feel their eyes following her when they passed. 

Ahead she could hear a rhythmic smack, a sound she recognised as leather meeting flesh. She guessed the leather was in the Seigneur’s servant Karl’s hand, and the skin it was heating was Gisela’s, the wife of the mayor. Yvain was surprised not to hear a sound from Gisela. She had been in full voice an hour earlier, when the Seigneur’s door opened for a moment. She wondered if this was a new whipping or the same one, still going. 

At last the Seigneur reached the room from which the sound came. He opened the door without knocking. A Seigneur does not knock. Karl’s room was simpler than his master’s, and it was simply furnished: a bed, a table and two chairs, and a whipping bench. But none of this furniture was in use. Gisela stood naked, her feet well apart, bending over with her hands on her ankles so her buttocks and thighs were presented for Karl’s attentions.

She was silent because there was a gag in her mouth, and a delicate silver chain hung from the clips that held and compressed her nipples.

Yvain had seen her many times at village functions, a grand and haughty woman. Now she saw Gisela humbled, her long hair flying each time the lash landed and her body jerked. Her body, naked, was fuller than Yvain’s, but firm. She was perhaps ten years older than Yvain, and still very beautiful.

No wonder, Yvain thought, Karl has such a massive erection under that robe. Karl delivered two more strokes, then stopped and bowed at the Seigneur. “I’m sorry, my Seigneur. But I promised her six dozen, and I wanted to finish the fourth set. She has two dozen to go. Would you like to witness them? Or have you brought that slut” – he looked at Yvain – “here to receive discipline?”

The seigneur, still carrying Yvain, said, “No, I’ll attend to her discipline from now. Has Gisela had her fill of cock tonight?”

Karl smiled. “Once she’s had her first spanking and dropped her airs, she’s insatiable. For the cock and the lash, and she’s had plenty of both. The hope of a night like this: that’s the reason she’s been acting up lately.”

“Well, I may vary her diet a little. Ungag her, Karl.”

Karl smiled, and pressed his left hand, holding the strap, between Gisela’s buttocks to stroke her cunt. With his right hand he undid the buckle at the back of her head, and removed the gag.

Gisela looked at the Seigneur. She sank to her knees. “Seigneur? May I serve you?”

The Seigneur reached behind him and smacked Yvain’s bottom. “Down girl,” he said. “On your feet.”

Yvain, standing, looked down at Gisela. She wondered if that would be her one day. Used to discipline, practiced in serving a man and taking pleasure from that service. And from the discipline itself. Gisela met her eyes. One day, perhaps, Yvain thought, she had been in my position. Yvain hoped her Seigneur might keep her, and not pass her to a servant. She would have to learn and serve well to earn that fate.

The Seigneur said, “I want both of your noses close to my cock. Gisela, crawl forward and kneel in from of me. Yvain, you’re to be at our side, so you can watch what Gisela does. Watch closely and learn. Karl will punish you for any lapse in your attention.”

Gisela crawled forward on hands and knees, then knelt upright at the Seigneur’s feet. She said, “May I serve your pleasure, my Seigneur?” She kept her mouth open after asking her question.

The seigneur said to Yvain, “Get closer, girl. I want your face close to hers, so you can see exactly what she does.” He looked at Karl, who had taken a seat, watching. “She’s a skilled little fellatrix, isn’t she, Karl?”

Karl said, “Practice makes nearly perfect, Seigneur. And a little encouragement from the strap.” To Gisela he said, “You’re to suck a Seigneur’s cock now, Gisela. Think of it as a promotion.”

The Seigneur said, “I suppose it is. Good.” He placed his hand on the back of Gisela’s head. “You know what to do, Gisela.”

Yvain watched her Seigneur’s cock disappear, slowly, into Gisela’s mouth. Gisela pressed forward, taking him deeper, until her lips pressed against his groin.

Her checks dimpled as she started to suck, moving her head very slightly back and forth, but keeping all of him in her mouth.

Yvain wondered if she’d ever learn to take so much. She was surprised to feel no jealousy, watching another woman pleasure her Seigneur. She was here to learn.

Sinful Sunday: Saucy girl

Sometimes I make her arse hurt. With my hand, usually, because I love that touch, skin to skin, and that impact, her beautiful round arse, her little movement under my hand, and her yelp. I love those things so much.

But it’s only fair that I hurt her a bit. She’s cute. She’s playful. And so sexy it hurts.