Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 4

Posted on January 10, 2018 by jaime

So the four of us swayed together, Arethusa and Cash, Delores and me. Arethusa was my current slave, Cash had never been a slave, but I’d introduced her to bdsm, in a relationship that lasted one night. We’d both wanted more, but circumstances were against us. It seemed we were about to have more. And Arethusa and Cash were new to each other, and fancied each other with all the power that comes from newness.

Delores was my ex too, but she didn’t fancy girls at all. So she wasn’t for threesomes, or foursomes. Anyway, she wouldn’t fuck a man who wasn’t single, and I clearly wasn’t that. So our kiss was more affectionate. I had lots of things to ask her about how she’d been since we’d last met, which was a few months ago now.

But it was Cash who broke the foursome. The dj had put on Daft Punk’s Get Lucky, and her ass needed to bop to it. She tried to drag Arethusa and me onto the floor, but Arethusa didn’t like electronica much, and I liked staying with Arethusa. So Cash raced back into the mix of dancers.

So we watched Cash go, until she was on the dance floor, moving to a rhythm exactly twice as fast as Daft Punk, and I bought champagne for Arethusa, Delores and me. They keep the area around the bar in near pitch-darkness so you can’t see your change. You measure it by weight. They didn’t leave me much to carry, apart from the champagne.

We talked for a while, the three of us. Delores and Arethusa were very different people, and they didn’t find much in common. Except me, I guess. I got the latest news from Delores, about her family, and whether she’d found a good dom yet. She hadn’t. I made encouraging remarks, but I didn’t have any dom friends I could recommend.

She told Arethusa an anecdote about the time I’d punished her for losing her purse, and how she’d finally stopped being careless after that.

Arethusa smiled. “He’s good at that.” But I could tell she was finding Delores a little boring. That was a pity.

Delores hugged me, and shook Arethusa’s hand. “Lovely to meet you. But I’m going to get fucked and bruised tonight. So I’d better do some circulating. See you soon.”

She went into the darker areas on the far side of the dance floor. I looked at Arethusa. “That was rude.”

“I’m sorry, Master.” She looked down. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s a nice person. I just wanted time with you. On your own.”

“Don’t you want Cash?”

“Um.” She smiled. “Oh yes. She’ll be an ornament to our bed.”

“So what you just said, about just wanting me was bullshit, wasn’t it?”

“Um. Yes. I’m sorry, Master. I suppose I was being a snob.”

“I suppose that too. Hold out your hand.”

“Here?” Then she thought better of protesting. She held out her hand, palm flat upward, while I fished a narrow strip of leather, about a centimetre across, from my pocket. I gave her four strokes on her right hand. It’s a bdsm club. She had quite an audience by the time she got her fourth stroke. Her face clearly showed they’d hurt.

Arethusa isn’t an exhibitionist, but she liked being held in strict control. I said, “Other hand.”

This time she obeyed quickly and properly, holding out her left hand palm up with a “Yes, Master.” I watched her eyes, and she watched mine while I gave her the next four strokes.

She waited for permission. I nodded, and she shook her hands, as if she could waggle the pain into the air. Finally she gasped and said, “Thank you, Master.”

“That’s better. Good girl. Now come with me.”

I led her into the seats and tables in the dark. There was a space by the slavegirl who’d been surreptitiously sucking her Master’s cock. She was sitting up now, her task completed. She was immensely proud of herself, and introduced herself cheerfully, and mentioned that she’d caught the last few seconds of Arethusa’s punishment. So they were two good girls together.

They seemed to get on better than she had with Delores. I’d have to ask her later what that had been about. I didn’t think it was jealousy.

Her Master and I congratulated each other on the excellence of our good girls, so that they could hear it. And we talked about where we were from, and he made the joke about the lights around the bar that I used above. After a while, he sent his girl to get more champagne, and we sat back. Arethusa climbed onto my lap. I kissed her. She kissed me. She was happy again.

In the meantime, Delores about to have a complicated night. So I’m going to leave Arethusa and me in comfort, and follow Delores’s adventures for the next episode or two.

Sinful Sunday: Elsa and the Swan 2

Posted on January 7, 2018 by jaime

God! That swan wants a cigarette, doesn’t he?

Anyway, we were telling the story of Elsa of Brabant, in February of the year 932.

Background

I mentioned that the King of Frankreich, Henry the Fowler, was in Brabant to persuade their cavalry to support him in the Battle of Merseburg: Frankreich (defending), versus the Magyars. That’s how we know when the story is set. The battle was in March 932, and it’d take an army, even with horses, about three weeks to get from Brabant to Merseburg.

Elsa was accused of her brother’s murder, but was proclaimed innocent after a stranger arrived and won her case, in a trial by combat. He then offered to marry Elsa, and, starstruck, she accepted.

Now read on.

Elsa’s story

The trouble is, this man that she’s called here, or created, insists that she not ask his name, or where he comes from. So she’s in love, and so is he, but he’s carrying on like a married man on Fetlife.

Eventually, on their wedding night, Elsa can’t stand it any more. He tries to stop her, but she directly asks him who he is, and who are his forebears.

He is distraught. Once he is asked that, he’s not allowed to stay. He’s a bit like a creature from Faerie, immensely strong and powerful, but if you so much as nick their finger – or make any puncture – they collapse.

Elsa hears the call of the Swan that drew his boat. It’s coming to take her lover, her husband, away.

At the river, the knightly stranger explains that he is a knight of the Holy Grail, which is in the mountains of northern Spain. His name is Lohengrin, and he is the son of Parzifal, the ruler of the Grail kingdom.

Lohengrin is distraught as well. If she’d managed to hold on for a year, he’d have been able not only to stay but to tell her who he is. And she would have got her brother back.

Maybe I can do one thing, he says. He kneels down by the river and prays. The Swan transforms, losing its swan form, and turning back into her missing brother Gottfried!

He had been turned into a swan by the wife of Telramund, the knight who’d accused Elsa of murdering her brother. He was rescued by the Grail: if he spend a year serving the Grail, he’d have been able to return, in human form. But Lohengrin has used the last of his earthly powers to bring Gottfried back early.

He, Lohengrin, was going to lead the cavalry into battle, but he can no longer do that. But, he says, Gottfried can.

But even though Elsa got her brother back, the Grail is forcing Lohengrin to return. He can’t stay. He steps into his boat, which speeds off, even without a swan to pull it.

Elsa watches her lover, rescuer and husband disappear, and she cries out in agony. Then she faints, or dies, of her grief

What’s this story about?

In an odd way, it’s about adultery, or at least it exists because of adultery. Elsa and Gottfried’s family are real, and in 100 years or so Gottfried’s descendent, another Gottfried, would lead Christian forces in the First Crusade, and took back Jerusalem.

But about this time there was an embarrassing break in the family line. They explained it by coming up with this story about swans.

So Lohengrin, a figure out of myth, steps briefly into the real, historical world. And Gottfried, a figure out of history, steps briefly into the world of myth.

Each, as they must, ultimately returns to the world, or realm of reality, that they came from.

It’s also, in a way, about the weakness of the supernatural. It can seem strong and powerful, but it always shrivels and disappears if you look at it too closely.

Fucking swans

That’s the end of the swan series. There’s much more to say (sexual customs involving humans fucking swans up the cloaca, for example) and many more stories, but all good series have to come to a

Don’t do that! 4 [The End]

Posted on January 6, 2018 by jaime

Cassie put her finger on his nose. “I’m just saying,” she said, “if you want to spank some girl, you ask her, or you let her ask you. Because if she’s into it she probably will ask. One way or another. But remember there’s lots of people who aren’t into it. I just don’t want you to make an idiot of yourself.”

Gavan’s erection still existed, but in a pliable, squishy way. Cassie’s waggle had reminded him of things he’d rather be doing. “So, would you mind then, if I smacked your ass, oh, right about now, probably a little harder?

“Well, not too hard. But sure.”

Though Gavan’s cock had slowly shrunk during this conversation, he was still inside her, just. He reached down and smacked her, six times, slowly, with a lot of caressing and kneading that balled, muscled flesh.

Cassie began to move on him. He would be getting hard in those circumstances in any case. But while his hand on her ass, impacting her, wasn’t as incandescent as the desire he’d felt for Ana, he had to admit it was one of the reasons he was getting harder.

That complicates a lot of things, he thought, like life. Did this mean he’d have to choose his girlfriends by their spankability from now on? But he was ready to thrust hard into Cassie, who seemed happy about that, and he smacked her bottom again. It felt good.

For science! he thought, and then stopped thinking.

[The End]

Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 3

Posted on January 4, 2018 by jaime

So I was at Club Bento, with my slavegirl Arethusa, with whom I was madly, passionately, in love. I was holding a tiny platinum blonde Chinese girl who’d jumped up on me with her legs round my waist and, because she wasn’t taking much care while she rocked against me, I’d put my hands on her ass to support her. She’d realised by then that I hadn’t recognised her, and that seemed to be hilarious as well. She was still beaming at me.

I looked her. It was her eyes and her mouth that did it. I said, “Qing!”

She kissed me. “Where’ve you been, stranger?”

“I’ve been here. I kept trying to call you, at your house. And I kept getting through to your housemates. Who were grumpy as fuck. And I left messages. Did they get through?”

“Not to me. They were stupid bastards, those people I lived with. And they thought you were that other guy, your asshole friend. So they probably thought they were doing me a good… Anyway, that’s a pity, but… Here we are!”

Er, artist’s impression. Cash still had her knickers on, though tugged down considerably

She fell forward, and we kissed. Eventually, because it seemed like a good idea I pulled her tiny skirt up, and tugged her knickers as far down as they’d go, on a girl who was straddling me. That provided a space of bare bottom that was tempting in every possible way, and in easy reach. I spanked her, hard, six times, while she squealed and hung on.

It seemed like a good idea to set the mood. Before she’d been my possession, Arethusa had been in a relationship with a lucky guy and another girl, and she liked threesomes.

I hadn’t delivered one for us yet. But it seemed likely that this would work out.

Finally I dropped the girl to her feet. “How come you’re calling yourself Cash?”

Cash, as I was getting used to calling her, tugged at her skirt. I smacked her bottom again, and said, “Leave it.”

She dropped her hand, skirt still round her waist, half her bottom bare. “Nickname, darling. Too many people couldn’t pronounce Qing. So they started calling me K-Ching, like a cash register. Then I changed it to Cash. I liked it, so it’s my name.”

“I like it too. Cash, this is Arethusa.”

The two girls looked at each other. Cash pointed her head at me. “You’re with him?”

Arethusa said, neutrally, “Yes. I’m his property.”

So Cash hugged her, and said, “Cool! Lovely to meet you! How long have you been together?”

“About a year. When did you..?”

“When I was an accountancy student. We’d known each other for about an hour, and by then he’d tied me up, whipped me, fucked me, and then taken my anal, uh, girlhood. So it was just one night, but it was memorable.”

Arethusa looked at me. Our first night had been roughly similar, except that she’d preserved her anal virginity for another month. I’d taken it with more ceremony than I’d allowed Qing. Arethusa said, “That’s Master, all right.”

I looked at her. She smiled at me, thank fuck. I pointed at Cash. She nodded.

Strictly, we’d agreed that she was property, and it wasn’t her decision who came to bed with us, or what she did with her body. There was a piece of paper that said that, among other outrageous things, signed by both of us. In reality, of course, a slavegirl is the most wonderful person in the universe to her owner, and no master with a clue wants to make his girl unhappy.

I said to Cash, “Do you have, um, an owner of any sort?”

This doesn’t represent reality. It’s a pretty good indicator of what I was thinking, though

She was still looking at Arethusa. They’d reached some sort of understanding. But she shook her head. “I’m more of a top these days. So…”

I considered that, disappointed for a second. On the other hand, Cash still hadn’t pulled her skirt down, after I’d told her not to. So I pulled her and Arethusa into a hug. And then, though I didn’t expect her to come to bed with us, I reeled in Delores as well. And we held each other, swaying together, and Arethusa and Cash kissed, and, because Delores didn’t kiss girls, I kissed her.

It was one of the most blessed moments of my life. But I’m going to disappear from this story soon, for a while, anyway.

[To be continued]

Note:

This is the sequel to a story I told a couple of years ago. You can find Qing’s and my first encounter, when she was a very different sort of girl, here. Or you can look for it, under its title, “Mouth to Mouth: Qing’s story”.

Don’t do that! 3

Posted on January 2, 2018 by jaime

Remember: those knickers only count as consent if she’s signed them

Gavain thought. What had he learned about himself, from smacking Cassie’s bottom? “Spanking you felt good, I mean as a sensual experience. There’s that.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Gawain. That’s so appalling I can’t even tell whether you’re trying to talk your way out of trouble. I tell you what, though.”

“What?”

“I know you. We’re friends. I know you’re not a psycho or a misogynist. But that pat on the ass thing, that gets harder when I’m getting closer to coming: I noticed that.”

“Didn’t feel subtle, then?”

“No woman wouldn’t notice. Thing is,not everyone knows you’re not a nutcase. So there are a lot of girls, probably the majority, who aren’t going to all that delighted when a man offers to hit them. Even if he means it in a nice sexy way. Cause they don’t think there is a nice way or a sexy way. So your chances of getting them back into your bed are close to zero.”

Gavain nodded, considering that. It seemed likely to be true. He said, “Yeah.”

There’s no sneaky way of spanking someone. They will notice.

“You know, even for girls who aren’t shocked, maybe even girls who’d like to be spanked more than me, it still feels like you’re trying to be sneaky. No one likes that.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re an ok person, and you pay attention when you’re fucking. I like the way you fuck. I bet lots of girls like fucking you. Or they would. So I’m not getting at you.”

“Yeah.”

“No! You don’t get to sulk! You’re the one who smacked my ass.”

Sinful Sunday: Lohengrin, Elsa and the Swan

Posted on December 31, 2017 by jaime

Probably the most famous swan-human transformation of all is set out at the end of Wulfram von Eschenbach’s epic poem Parzifal. The most famous version of the story is Wagner’s opera Lohengrin. Wagner is good at using his sources accurately, while condensing the number of incidents and characters to the minimum he can get away with for dramatic purposes, so we’ll use his version, mostly.

Wagner tells the story from the woman’s point of view. Lohengrin arrives in silver armour (Wagner’s version is the origin of the phrase “knight in shining armour”) comes to “save” Elsa, but does he really exist, or is he a sort of psychic projection of Elsa’s? Anyway, here’s Elsa’s story.

What’s the time?

It’s odd when magical tales have specific dates and places, but this story happens in February in the year 932. Many knights have collected in Brabant, because Henry the Fowler, king of Frankreich, wants to assemble a multi-national force to fight the Magyars, who invaded Europe with a lot of fire and pillage, rape and killing. Now they collect annual tribute from their conquered lands, and from their neighbours who don’t want to be invaded.

Henry comes to Brabant, in what is now Belgium, because there are a lot of mounted knights there, and he hopes to use their cavalry in the coming battle with the Magyars. That’s the background.

What’s Elsa up to?

Elsa is the daughter of the leading noble in Brabant. A month earlier, she was out in the forest with her younger brother Gottfried. Something weird happens and she drops asleep. When she wakes up her brother has disappeared.

A knight, Telramund, backed by his wife Ortrud, accuses her of murdering her brother, to secure the throne of Brabant for herself.

The king decides to hold a trial by combat, to test the truth of this accusation. Obviously Elsa can’t go up against the biggest and best swordsman in Brabant herself, so she has to appoint a champion to fight for her.

Unfortunately, all the other knights know that Telramund is the most fearsome fighter in Brabant, and challenging him, even on Elsa’s behalf, is a suicide mission.

So Elsa goes into a trance. She imagines a knight coming to save her, a knight from a far-away land, clad in silver armour.

And then: amazement! (to everyone else: not to her) the very knight she describes turns up!

He comes by river, standing, his silver armour blinding in the sun, resting on his sword, in a small boat pulled by a swan.

He arrives and thanks the swan extremely politely. He comes ashore, and immediately agrees to fight Telramund, who he defeats quickly and easily, but spares his life. Then he offers his hand in marriage to Elsa.

Elsa is a lonely girl. No one local was prepared to fight for her. She accepts.

So Elsa is found innocent in the trial, and the wedding is announced.

Happy Ending!

Well, not quite. But we’ll have the rest of the story next week.

An observation about fear

I mentioned that it’s not clear whether the knight exists, or whether he’s a sort of psychic projection created by Elsa.

It’s interesting that Elsa isn’t afraid while she’s being accused of murder, and it seems almost impossible for her to find a champion. If she didn’t find a champion, she’d be found guilty of murder and possibly witchcraft, and she’d die a very horrible death. That doesn’t scare her. But once her champion is there, she seems to be very afraid.

But we’ll continue this story next week! No peeking!

Photo

In the photo, the swan comes to an abrupt halt on the river Scheidt. (Which runs through Brabant.) And knocks over my champion, who is clad in … nothing. But she shines, she shines.

Don’t do that again! 2

Posted on December 30, 2017 by jaime

NOTE

This is Episode 2 of a short story. Well, it’s short by my standards: I expect it to take only three or four episodes. Episode 1 is here. Read it if you haven’t and you feel like it, then come back.

Don’t Do That! 2

Gavain groaned. He had, indeed, spanked Cassie without her permission. He said, “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I mean, truly: I apologize.”

“God, you’re fish in a barrel. I was teasing you. You’re easy. Truth?”

“Ok.”

“It was mildly pleasant. It’s not one of my turn-ons, particularly, but I didn’t hate it. How, um, I suppose I should ask, how was it for you?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, your ass always feels good to me.” She looked irritated, so he corrected course.

“I don’t know,” he said. “When I had the thought about my, uh, client, I mean, when it occurred to me to spank her, I had a kind of flash, like a vision of what it’d be like. It was hot as fuck. I went, full on, this-is-awkward, unwanted erection. In about five seconds. Took ages to get it down again.”

“Did she notice?”

“Oh yeah. She laughed at me. A lot.”

“Oh, poor you.”

“God no. I was relieved. Could have been much worse.”

“I suppose. Anyway, what’s that got to do with how hot it was to spank me? Or not?”

“Because when I imagined it she was really into it. That’s what made it so hot.”

“So my reaction was… disappointing?” Cassie didn’t look sorry.

“I wasn’t sure if you hadn’t noticed, or you were putting up with it, or it was sort of okay but nothing special. So that wasn’t so hot.”

“On behalf of all womanhood, I apologize for not being a porn star. You’ll just have to put up with real girls.”

“You got a porn star’s ass. Very superior ass.”

“Huh.” But she waggled her ass, just the same.

Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 2

Posted on December 28, 2017 by jaime

Note

I wrote the next episode of The Kiss before seeing the prompt. So you get story anyway!

But for the share the love project, there are five blogs that keep making me think, “yes, that’s good,” and “I wish I’d said that”, and “word! That’s hot as fuck!”

And they are:

The incandescent Cara Thereon: https://closed2.wordpress.com

The sultry F Leonora: http://fdotleonora.com

The untrousered Kilted Wookie: https://kiltedwookiewrites.wordpress.com/about/

The frankly indecent Kayla Lords: http://kaylalords.com

The uncammied Cammies on the Floor: http://cammiesonthefloor.com

All of them are just wonderful, sensual writers. Enjoy!

The Kiss 2

I saw a red-haired woman, waving at me. She’d been my submissive nearly ten years ago. We’d separated because at the time I’d been a very committed dom-slut. I was honest and open about it, but she wanted a settling-down kind of dom, and that was not me.

But I’d introduced her to bdsm, at her request, and to the city, which she didn’t function in at first. She was a country girl from a small town.

She lost valuables because she’d do things like put her bag down in shops and walk away from it. She’d attract predators because she’d go out and look in all directions at corners, so that people could notice that she was beautiful, confused and not remotely street-wise.

She was used to living among honest people who knew her. So I taught her wariness, and how not to draw attention to herself as prey. Sometimes I’d have to drive those lessons home, as doms will, so that her bottom would give her a sort of warning twinge when she had the urge to do something stupid. So although we weren’t still together we were very much friends.

After she’d left me and launched herself as a sub-about-town, she’d changed her name to Delores. Her real name was Mary-Jo, which sounds like a Dukes of Hazzard name but it was real, and I liked it. She was wise waiting till she’d ended our dom/sub relationship before changing it to Delores. I’d never have allowed it. Anyway it was done.

So when she’d come up and hugged me and rubbed her face all over mine, I eventually disengaged and introduced her. “This is Arethusa, my slavegirl. And this – “

“Ohhh, you lucky girl!” That’s the sort of thing you want your ex-submissives to say to your current submissive. “I hope he’s…” She stopped, since she still had enough country girl in her not to want to say things like “beating and fucking you often and hard” to a stranger.

But Arethusa got that: she nodded, smiling. So I said, “And Arethusa, this is Delores. My wonderful ex.” That was the first time I’d ever used the new name. Mary-Jo/Delores knew I wasn’t enthusiastic about her re-branding. But it was time to stop being a shit about it: Delores she was.

So the two women looked at each other. I said, “So I’m showing Arethusa the wonders of Club Bento. But I thought you said you didn’t come here any more?”

“I don’t really. I’m showing the place to a friend of mine. I seem to have lost her.” She frowned, and looked around. Eventually the strobe lights from the dance floor pointed in the right direction, because she shouted, “Hey, Cash! Come’ere!”

A tiny and energetic Chinese girl, with a platinum Louise Brooks cut, turned around. She wore a white bra and a tiny black leather skirt that possibly had more zips than it had leather, and hugged her arse except for the bottom two inches of buttocky undercurve, because the skirt stopped before it got there.

She looked over, and edged her way across the dancefloor to us. “Someone you’ve got to meet!” Delores shouted.

She emerged from the dance-scrum, looking at Arethusa and me, and then, puzzled and more specifically, at me.

She shouted “Jaime!”

She jumped me and straddled my waist so that her crotch pressed against my cock. And it was necessary to support her by holding on to her ass. It really was necessary, for physics reasons as well as because of the excellence of that ass.

All that was good, obviously, but I wanted to get to the introduction part of the conversation quickly. This couldn’t be making Arethusa happy.

But I had a problem. I had no idea who this girl, beaming at me like a searchlight, might actually be.

Don’t do that! 1

Posted on December 28, 2017 by jaime

Cassie astride and above him, jockeying vehemently with her eyes closed, was focused on her orgasm. She had no notion that he, specifically, was there. Gavain, providing her fulcrum, knew she’d reached her point of no return.

He moved his hand down from her hip and smacked her bottom, experimentally. There was a small sound, a slap, but she didn’t open her eyes or change her rhythm. Gavain considered the sensation. His handful of her ass felt great, of course, but it always did, whether she was still or bouncing, whether his hand arrived hard or soft.

But did he get off on spanking her? Did it add an edge to the already excellent experience of having sex with Cassie? He smacked her again, on the other side, a little harder. Cassie still didn’t open her eyes, but she expelled her breathe, once, hard, through her nose, and lowered her body so her breasts touched his chest and his cock slipped further into her. She sped up, frantic for speed.

By way of encouragement he smacked her in time with her movements, until she arched her back, all muscles clenched, and made her orgasm noise, low and loud. It sounded to Gavain like an engine racing between gears. He thought that was her, her enjoyment celebrated lustily with no concern for whether she sounded beautiful. He’d got over loving her, after she’d left him. But he still loved that.

He let her rest, happy, without coming himself because she knew she’d want more in a few minutes, and it’d take him about twenty minutes to half an hour to recover if he came. He kissed her forehead and her ear, and she opened her eyes. “Hello you.”

Gavain said, “Hey you.” He put his hand back on her left buttock where he’d smacked it. There was a tiny glow of warmth.

Cassie frowned. “Um. Gavain, that was new. New for you, anyway. Were you trying to spank me?”

Gavain felt himself blushing. “It was… sort of an experiment. Did you mind? Or did you like it?”

“Um. It was ok. I didn’t mind. I suppose I wondered how come. Have you got some new girl who likes that?”

“Er, not exactly. Or not at all. There’s a girl, and I found myself thinking it’s be a really good idea, and amazingly hot, if I spanked her. And it wouldn’t be a great idea. It’d be a really stupid, unethical, terrible idea. To do anything with her. But I don’t think I’ve ever thought that about someone before.”