In the realm of the Sensei 2

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Seamus continued until Asuka was well lubricated and anyway better relaxed, so he could slide two fingers, then three, easily inside her. He said, “This may hurt you a bit. Like the very first time you fucked, perhaps. That sort of pain doesn’t matter; it’ll get better. But if it really hurts, too much, you’re to tell me at once. Is that understood, Asuka?”

“Hai, sensei.” He was sensei again. He supposed it was sexier, to be buggered by your sensei. He assumed this was a virginity for Asuka, about to fall to the lightest, slightest siege possible. He put a condom on, and put the head of his cock against that little dilated orifice, and then, holding her hips tightly, pushed forward.

Asuka hissed again, and said, “Oh!” Then her rectal muscle suddenly gave way and let him in. “Oh.” She breathed slowly, getting used to this intrusion, while Seamus trembled, holding himself just inside her, her muscle just admitting him. At last she said, “Aaah. Yes. But slowly. Please, sensei.”

Seamus smacked her with his right hand, so she could feel she was still being disciplined, and pushed further forward. He took her slowly, feeling that virgin muscle clasp him tight, letting her pause and get used to him each time he made progress. He’d wait until she was again breathing normally before he’d move to take more.

At last they closed with each other, until he was fully in her, belly pressed to her buttocks, cock fully lodged inside her. They stayed together, perfectly still, for a long time.

Eventually it was Asuka who moved, just a very little, and he held himself still while she began to fuck him, in millimeters, then centimeters, always slowly. At last he couldn’t stop himself and moved forward into her as she pressed back at him. She exhaled savagely in response and they fucked hard and fast, forgetting about care or pain.

Seamus could feel his orgasm building until, as orgasms will, it suddenly became urgent. He stopped still, and Asuka swore at him. But in a few seconds he had himself under enough control so he could move again without instantly coming, so long as he moved slowly. That turned out to be good, from Asuka’s point of view.

She began making little noises as he took her, squeaks and little gibbers that he knew as her pre-orgasm cries, her head shaking. So he continued, just a little faster, but pressing as deep in her as he could go, and tightening his grip on her hips so that, he hoped, it hurt her.

Her little sounds rose in pitch and stopped being little, and Emiko came, wailing and loud. Seamus thought he should really try for more, for her, but he had his own urgencies and his own orgasm was just seconds after hers. Time passed, or stopped, he wasn’t sure which.

The Ojastara Tales: The Landgrave 3

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Ojastara followed the Landgrave into what turned out to be a pleasant pavilion, with a small fountain, many-coloured drapes and tapestries, some erotic in nature while others showed hunting scenes. A mosaic on the floor showed a human woman atop a unicorn. The unicorn lay on its back and the woman rode its phallus, riding crop in her right hand, showing every sign of enjoyment.

There were couches, love seats that swung from a frame, and indeed, as the Landgrave had promised, a bed. The Landgrave gestured at the bed. “Get on the bed. I want you on all fours, hands and knees. Your ass up. The position you assume to receive discipline and give pleasure.”

Ojastara turned to look at him. “But I’m sure you command this every time. And the women who are your subjects obey you. But I am not your subject, or anyone’s.”

She saw him looking angry at that, and she continued, “And you are generously offering to do all the work, while I am merely passive. There are pleasures in being passive. I enjoyed them while you spanked me. But here we are: no one is watching. Why not experience that pleasure for yourself?”

She stepped towards him, stroked his testes again and then made a ring of her thumb and forefinger, and ran it up his cock.

In response to her touch it went from semi-hard to full attention. She said, “Good cock,” as you might speak to a child, or a dog, and stroked at it more while he gasped.

The Landgrave trembled, overcome with sensation, and she pushed him slowly back towards the bed. When his calf muscles backed against the bed she blew suddenly, while also pressing her hand against his bollocks, and he toppled, onto his back, his erect penis now the highest part of his body.

Ojastara took the riding crop from his hand.  

Sinful Sunday: Castle Architecture

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The castle is medieval; the computer is current; the woman is timeless. Three ages collide, and make something new and beautiful.

When curved granite and curved flesh are in the same image, of course it’s the human, and especially the erotic, that holds our attention. And thank fuck for that, say I.

The lovely Zoë s the model. 

 

In the Realm of the Sensei 1

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(A thing from a Work in Progress. I should say that many of my stories start as autobiography, before having details changed to protect the depraved. But in this story, Seamus isn’t me. He’s a guy I used to know.) 

Then, naked except for her socks, Asuka walked carefully to the door to collect her sandals, and put them on, while he admired the movements of her cane-striped bottom. She shuffled to the kitchen and took a shovel and broom from the cupboard under the sink. 

Seamus sat and watched his well striped girl, pretending to read Sei Shonagon while she picked up the pieces of plate.At last she’d swept all the shards and dust onto the shovel and then the kitchen bin. When the kitchen was tidy again, if lacking in crockery, she stood and looked at him, questioning.

“That looks … acceptable. Oh, and bring me the peanut oil.”

Asuka looked puzzled, but she’d accepted that if she was being punished and if her man wanted to cover her in peanut oil, then that was what would be.

She lifted the little bottle from the cupboard, and came back to Seamus, holding the oil in both hands in front of her.

He took it from her gravely. “Now, Asuka, I’m not finished with you. Turn round and bend over again.”

“”Yes, sir.” She wiggled as much as she dared, once she had her back to him, since she was confident that he admired her ass. Then she bent over, and touched her toes as she’d been while he’d caned her.

“Good girl. Feet apart a little more, Asuka.” She shuffled obediently. But he smacked the inside of her right thigh and said, “Further.”

She obeyed, less puzzled. But she made an interrogative noise when he lubricated his forefinger and pressed against her little asshole. Then there was realization, and she said something like, “Whoo.” In wonder.

Seamus pressed his forefinger into her, to the first knuckle, then less slowly to the second. He twisted his finger inside her tight, clinging orifice, and then withdrew, to put more lubricant on his finger.

Asuka held herself very still. Her face, upside down between her knees, was wide-eyed, mouth open. He smiled at her, and smacked her left buttock, then her right, with his hand, and then lubricated two fingers.

The Ojastara Tales: The landgrave 2

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Ojastara let the landgrave spank her, and rewarded him for it by sucking his cock. It was far from unpleasant. She liked the warmth, and the slight, good hurt, and the way it made the men who spanked her so much more animal, even slightly brutal . There was satisfaction in that. It5 was like having a hard surface to bounce off.

He reached his hand to the back of her head, tightened his grip on her hair, and thrust her forward to meet him as his cock thrust urgently, desperately in her mouth. At that moment they were both focussed on his pleasure, and her pleasure came from her awareness of and sympathy with his urgent need and its satisfaction.

She let him thrust his cock hard and deep into her mouth, sometimes having to will herself to relax when the glans of his penis touched the back of her throat,

She had some control over her gag reflex, but it was not complete control. She put her hand on the base of his cock, eventually, to stop him from going too deep, and used her other hand to stroke his blalls, now tight as if they were clenched.

But after a while he grunted, and slowed. Ojastara guessed he had reached his limit, of how far he could go without coming. And she was pleased that he didn’t want to come in her mouth.

She smiled, his cock still in her mouth, pulsing hard as his heartbeat. He put his hand on her brow, now, and pushed her back a little. He made a high-pitched sound, testifying to the will-power it took for him to put her further back so his cock escaped her mouth and pressed against her cheek.

Ojastara looked up at him and smiled, though she held his balls in her hand. It was insurance for his good behaviour. The Landgrave smiled down at her.

“You’re a dangerous woman and we both know it. But a treasure; we both know that as well. There’s a bed in the next room. If that appeals?”

Ojastara considered. The eve of venues made her less safe, and she had no evidence that he was a good man. But she trusted her instincts – and her skills and pack of attendant foxes. She released his tender, attractively vulnerable oval shells. If he misbehaved she could always use her knee, anyway. 

She said, “Sure, Landgrave, and I trust you. Lead the way.” 

Sinful Sunday: Rest

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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: The Yellow Room and changes in porn styles

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Recently, because I was too busy to write, I posted some Victorian whipping porn, here and here. And I discussed the style differences between erotic writing from 100 years ago and the present here.

But there are some specific differences between the bdsm porn of 100 years ago and now, and it’s worth taking a moment to consider them.

This is where she cries Uncle.

First, incest was a very popular theme in Victorian porn, and it seems to have been especially popular in bdsm contexts. In The Yellow Room it’s all about an uncle and his two nieces, but in other novels – First Training, for example – it may be mother-son and father-daughter. Lesbian whipping and post-whipping scenes between sisters, in particular, are common.

But someone writing a scenario like The Yellow Room today would probably have the dominant male be a friend of their father’s, and not a blood relative.

Second, consent is not a serious issue in Victorian porn. The young lady isn’t asked if she’s feeling submissive. Instead, she’s stripped and punished, and then forced to obey orders to avoid further punishment.

In a modern storyline the writer would have to make it clear that the submissive enrolled in a special school, or met the friend of her father at some social function, and was intrigued by his promises of strict treatment that she went to meet him privately.

I’ve got mixed feelings about that. Mostly I think it’s an improvement. On the other hand, there are many people who enjoy the fantasy of being overwhelmed, not of their own free will. It’s not “real”, any more than the female rape fantasy is anything like real rape. But in fantasy anything goes, so long as it’s hot. So our care not to send inappropriate messages erases one quite popular fantasy.

This lighter birching, with suspension, looks more fun

I guess overall that our current care is an improvement. But I know submissives who really do want to feel they have no choice, at least sometimes. As a fantasy, it should be allowable. Anyway, those are my mixed feelings, and they’re not the hill I shall die on.

The third thing that seems noticeable to me is blood. In the section of The Yellow Room I quoted, it’s mentioned quite early in the proceedings that the lovely Alice’s bottom is bleeding, under the birch. 

I took out the bits where the blood sprays round the room, and trickles down to the floor.

Actually, Alice’s bottom spend many lines bleeding, in some volume, and felt I had to edit most of the blood-flow out, because I think for most people – certainly including me – it would be a turn-off rather than a turn-on. 

I once wrote about how hard you have to birch someone to cut their skin, because I did that, once.  To draw even a spot of blood you have to whip like a maniac, and though I can be strict, that’s a level of discipline I’m just not comfortable with. 

However, the Victorians loved it, both first-person submissive accounts, and from the flogger’s point of view.

By comparison, we moderns are a bunch of softies.  

 

 

 

Masturbation Monday: The Ojastara Tales: Ojastara and the Landgrave 1

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Ojastara crossed the threshold were the Landgrave apparently waited for her. There had been guards, but they made polite gestures, ushering her in. They intended to make it more difficult for her to leave, she knew. But that was a problem to be considered, lightly, later.

She walked through many carpeted and veiled chambers until, in a small room at the rear of his palace, she found the man who must be the Landgrave. He was in bed, while his subjects worked. But when she arrived he rose from his bed, naked, and walked towards her. She stood her ground, neither retreating nor advancing. “Welcome,” he said. He made to embrace her and she backed away. 

The Landgrave said, “Please, beautiful lady. I know that you pleasured one of my subjects, but took no pleasure for yourself. Unless you include the pleasure of crushing his balls with your skull. Which would at best have been a pleasure of another kind. I offer you pleasure of the kind you had given him. Nothing more than that, and no less.”

Ojastara frowned. “I came here immediately after dispatching your guard. How could you be aware of that incident?”

“This is a fairy-tale kingdom, though I am only a Landgrave for one district. But fairy tale technology applies throughout. I watched you in a mirror. You might call it a magic mirror.” He was smiling. He did not believe in magic mirrors, or expect her too.

“Or a mirror that can reflect scenes at which it is not temporally present, but where it has been before. Light rays travel in space and time. I may not call it magic at all, that that light reached your mirror, and therefore you. But you’re right. I gave that man sexual pleasure, and then unconsciousness. I took no pleasure for myself. Therefore, as his employer, you owe me.” By now she was smiling. This argument was playful, silly even. But silliness often turned her on.

The Landgrave said, “Well, I’d disrobe, but I seem to be unclothed already. Would you like to come to bed?” 

Ojastara, also naked, watched the muscles of his buttocks and thighs as he climbed onto his bed. He turned onto his back, leaning on cushions, and tapped a cushion beside him. Sao Ojastara stepped forward, climbing along the bed on her hands and knees, like a predator; like a fox. She smiled at his penis, which was already more than Hal;f erect, and licked the underside of the head.   

She said, “I suppose I do.”

The landgrave moved suddenly, forcefully, and pushed her mouth off his cock, and her body down, face down, to his bed. His right hand smacked her bottom, six times, hard, while Ojastara squirmed and pretended, with becoming hypocrisy, not to be enjoying herself. The fingers of his right hand pushed lower, and touched her soft lips. Ojastara said, as though it meant a great deal, “Oh!”

 

 

 

Sinful Sunday: Pleasuring Arethusa

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He liked to pleasure Arethusa, in the middle of punishment. She didn’t always want to admit how turned on she was by the whole situation: his commands, his lecture, the kiss she was required to bestow on the cane, and then the stripes of fire.

But her Master always found her wet, in the middle of any caning. Sometimes that discovery meant the caning was over. There were other priorities, that had just made themselves more urgent.

A slavegirl needs to be pleasured. And, well, being her Master was all duty.