Probation Officer #59: Laundry tips for modern lovers

I woke up because I felt absence where Sa’afia should be. It was still dark. I looked for a clock, but couldn’t find anything in the unfamiliar room. Including my phone. Or my clothes.

suck1But Sa’afia came back with cups of tea, and said it was six o’clock and time for me to wake up. But I shouldn’t be sitting up, because she’d wanted to wake me up with her mouth on my cock.

So I lay back and faked a snore. We didn’t get around to drinking the tea until after seven.

The tea was cold. I spanked her for that, or because she’d made it with sweetened condensed milk. The reason didn’t matter. But demonstrating that Sa’afia was forgiven, and that Sa’afia was good and clever, distracted us until it was after eight.

suck3We just had time to shower and get dressed. I’d get some breakfast at work. 

I kissed Sa’afia with the front door open, but with an eye out for neighbours who might say something to her mother. I remembered my shirt, the one she’d splashed with curry, and I made to dash back inside and get it. 

“No, it’s okay.” Sa’afia put her hands on my chest, the nicest way of saying go away. “I’ll wash it. You can collect it tonight, if my mother’s not coming back.” 

“It needs laundering. Someone seems to have got it…”

“No, it’s okay. It’ll be all white and shiny. Just like your girlfriend.”


“Beak girl. Daisy Duck.”

“Maybe I’m going off her. You’re my girl.”

“Mm hmm.”

“Can you actually get all that yellow out?”

Sa’afia looked angelic. “It’s tumeric. It gets a shirt quite … yellow. Doesn’t it?”

I didn’t often spend much time discussing laundry, but there was something about Sa’afia’s expression. I said, “Yeah. But you put it there, you’ll get it out. I don’t want to be able to see there was any tumeric, or saffron or what the hell. You’ll get that shirt white, girl.”

Sa’afia looked at me, expectantly. So I said, “Or else.” I got eyebrows, and an expression that expected more from me. So I said, “Or else I’ll punish you.”

“You’ll punish me?” She looked shocked. I took it that I’d guessed wrong, and I was about to turn it into a joke, ho ho, when she said, “Well, now. So you should.”

One swallow doesn’t make a spring #34

Svitlana looked at the ceiling like a pale, naked chef at a tasting. She put a delicate fingertip to the corner of her mouth – I was sure, again, that there was nothing there – and popped the fingertip between her lips. For some reason I became aware of my cock, resting wet and soft, still on my thigh. Life was far off, but signalling a return.

Seussy and the Bamshees.

Seussy and the Bamshees.

She still stared, blankly considering, at the ceiling. Life in our bedroom stopped in suspense. It was a small world, but all of it was waiting for her judgment. “Well?” I said.

Svitlana laughed suddenly. “This is like that book! I read it when I was learning English. Green eggs and ham?”  


She kissed me, mouth to mouth. “Got any more? Jaime-I-am?”

One swallow doesn’t make a spring #33

Svitlana looked at her knees, something wistful in her expression. “You like the idea of making me swallow. There’s lots of stuff about power, in this, that you aren’t talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s true. It feels like you’re submitting, when you swallow what I give you. It makes me feel triumphant. But that’s because I’m a dom; I tend to think that way. But the power works both ways. Some of me gets absorbed. It becomes part of you.”

Umami in preparation, in a Japanese porno kitchen. Steamy, as ever, is best.

Umami in preparation, in a Japanese porno kitchen. Steamy, as ever, is best.

“Mine.” She smiled and touched my cock, still asleep, spent, limp on my thigh.. “It’s … umami.”

“It’s what the hell?”

“Umami is a flavour. In Japanese cooking. It’s a kind of tasty savoury bland. Like a miso soup. Maybe mushroom. Your come is umami, but it’s like it started out too bland, and it’s been salted to make up for it.”

I considered that. “You’ve had it on your tongue quite a while now. You could have got rid of it by swallowing, ages ago. So you can’t pretend you mind it all that much. “

Svitlana grinned, revealing that she still had my come in her mouth. I’d started to wonder. “No, it’s not horrible.”

“Then swallow it because I bloody said so.”

“Just a moment.” Svitlana closed her eyes and screwed up her face, like a child pretending her rice pudding is frogs’ eggs. She swallowed dramatically, twice, then gasped for air. I was sure that wasn’t necessary. 

One swallow doesn’t make a spring #32

“I just don’t want you to think I’ll, I don’t know, convert to men, just because I’m enjoying being with you. I don’t like women because men are horrid. You aren’t, mostly. Women are just better.”

I shrugged. “I’ve never understood why women fuck men at all, really. I mean, I’m pleased, obviously. But – “

“You really are a silly man. You don’t know anything. Men are better than you think, and it’s weird that I should have to tell you that.”


You have got to be kidding me.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“And for your information, I’ve sucked cocks before, before I knew that girls were for me. But I never swallowed male, um, fluids. Sperm. I never would. I thought it was gross and anyway, who did those boys think they were? It’s a point for you that I’m even considering it.”

“It’s an honour. I really like it when a lover takes something of mine into herself.”

Svitlana smirked at that, nudging my thigh with her knee. “I already took something of yours into me.”

“I mean permanently into herself.”

One swallow doesn’t make a spring #31

chookI supposed that Svitlana might have reason not to want too much intimacy with my come. She’d made choices that had meant that for the last few years she hadn’t had much to do with cocks. So she might have reservations about some of the penile by-products. I just didn’t know. 

But she’d said, “Why?” As in, “why should I swallow your come?”

She might have been bratting, but then again she might not. I took the boring approach, and treated the question seriously. 

“Okay. One thing is that if you spit it out, it looks like rejection. That’s why there’s so much emotion invested in it. Well, male emotion anyway. Even I might think it was faintly, only a bit, hurtful if you spit that mouthful you have, right now. I’d only feel it for a second or two, but there it is. If you really don’t want to swallow, that’s more important. You shouldn’t do anything you don’t want, but that’s why we think it matters. Also, we like it when -“

Svitlana said, “We? Who’s ‘we’?” She said this carefully, her mouthful still in an indeterminate state, neither swallowed nor spat. Like Shroedinger’s cat’s come.

Glamorous redhead. Not really in bed. Probably not lesbian.

Glamorous redhead. Not Svitlana, though.. 

“Well, men. Or doms. Or maybe I just mean me. I like it when you – meaning women, especially glamorous semi-dyke redheads in my bed -“

“Okay, that’s nice. But don’t think I’m a semi-dyke, darling. I’m a dyke. You’re a fling.”

“Glamorous redhead dykes gone a-slumming. Then.” 

I’d spoken lightly and meant it lightly but I’d dismayed her. She put her hand on my arm, her face very earnest. “Oh no, Jaime! I’m not slumming. Really.”

I said, “Kiss.” I kissed her cheek. Yes, I was dodging her mouthful of my come, hypocrite that I am.

But we rubbed our faces together and that felt fine. “Bless. It’s all right.”

One swallow doesn’t make a spring #30

I’d never discussed the question of whether a woman should swallow my come before. In my experience till then most women had simply swallowed. 

Women who aren’t submissive, or weren’t being submissive in bed with me, had generally swallowed. If they didn’t like having come in their mouths, they generally hadn’t sucked my cock. It had happened a couple of times that a woman had spat out my come, but they’d done it into tissues, and neither she nor I had made any fuss about it. If they weren’t submitting then it was up to them. 

I've been good!

I’ve been good!

A submissive girl I’d known a while ago had been coy about swallowing, but it had been clear that she was only playing. She’d wanted to pretend to be virginal and to be smacked across the arse and told what to do.

So I’d spanked her bottom and then held her nose pinched closed until she swallowed and showed me a clean tongue. And we’d moved on to all the things that flowed from that.

In bdsm we’re all supposed to have talked about our limits beforehand, listing all the things we don’t want to do. A submissive who has a physical or psychological barrier about swallowing come is supposed to tell the dom in advance. Then he can check whether he should avoid coming in her mouth, or if he just needs to make sure he has tissues and a glass of water handy.

There are also some people in bdsm who feel that if a submissive doesn’t mention a limit beforehand then it’s not a limit. I’ve never felt things are that simple. No-one’s perfect, not even submissives, and they can forget important things that they really ought to have told a dom before playing. 

The girl I’d smacked had said something like, “you don’t seriously think I’m going to swallow your silly old come, do you?” She tended to talk like that once she’d dropped a couple of levels into submission. So it hadn’t been hard to tell that she was just bratting, and that she expected me to subdue her. 

With Svitlana I had no idea if she had a serious issue about swallowing. We hadn’t discussed anything beforehand. That kept coming up as a problem. 

One swallow doesn’t make a spring #29

chookShe said, “Why?”

She spoke in the whiny tone sometimes adopted by submissives who think they’ve gone unspanked for too long. At least that was my first reaction. Of course, her speech was affected by the wish neither to swallow nor dribble. She was speaking with her mouth full, and she’d been told not to do that by authorities higher than mine. Her mom, for starters.

So I didn’t repeat the command, or threaten the pallor of her bottom. Actually, it was a good question. 

I opened my mouth. I shut it again, and thought.

One swallow doesn’t make a spring #28

So I focussed on Svitlana and her mouth. She was trying hard, sucking strongly and keeping me deep, and careful to keep her teeth out of the way. And she pressed her cunt on my left knee, like a soft wet fruit, and rode me for her own pleasure. I began to move my knee to stay with her, keeping the ball of the knee pressed against her pubic bone, the way she’d said her women lovers did.

redWhen I had her rhythm right Svitlana closed her eyes, and sped up slightly. She used her hand to keep me held, because she couldn’t take me as deep in her mouth as she’d started. If she moved deeper into submission with me, I’d growl a command – “keep my cock deep, girl” – and smack her face to make it memorable, but for now I was content.

Since she had her eyes closed, I sat up a little and watched her. I loved the crease where her white thigh met her hips, and its movements when her bottom arched up a little before she pressed down on my knee again.

She was going to come within a minute or two, so I grabbed her hair and held her harder than before, fucking her mouth and throat, not over-fast but hard, letting her breathe when I pulled back, but not concerned about her when I thrust forward, and making the noise that I currently can’t help making – like the village idiot being tickled – when I’m about to come. Until, growling and laughing with pleasure, I came in her.

Svitlana kept sucking while her mouth filled. She coughed once when some of my come must have reached her oesophagous, but I held her firmly until I’d finished.

creaseShe lost her focus on me a second or two later, working herself on my knee, now slippery with her own excitement, until she cried out and flopped on my knee like a caught fish.

I held and stroked my hands on her shoulders, saying “good girl, good girl, Svitlana.”

She was only partly a submissive, and she certainly wasn’t mine, but I hoped she liked being told that she was good. Anyway, I wasn’t thinking much, and I was simply saying what I felt. She was good.

Some time later, Svitlana looked up. She still held my come in her mouth. She said, “tissue, I need to spit. Tissue?”

I said without thinking what I’d still have said if I’d thought it through. She was mine enough just then. I felt slightly, absurdly, indignant that she’d even asked. So I used the command voice, with the unmistakeable hint of ‘or else’. “No. Absolutely not. You swallow.  All of it. Right now.” 

Svitlana closed her eyes again.

One swallow doesn’t make a spring #27

I was thinking about some of those issues, while Svitlana sucked and petted my cock. I realised that worrying about the politics of all the actions that had led to her sucking my cock was insulting. She deserved my full attention and I was being a fool to give anything less. I stopped thinking foolishly. And stopped thinking at all.

One swallow doesn’t make a spring #26

Consent is odd. 

On the one hand, I had taken Svitlana through bdsm consent 101, and explained about safe words and stopping whenever she felt uncomfortable. She’d agreed, and told me that she knew about safe words.

That should have meant that anything that I did was okay if she didn’t safeword. But it never really means that. Especially with someone who had found herself confronting submission, and bdsm’s rules and ethics, for the first time. She was excited and enjoying herself, but not really sure of her ground. She wasn’t sure what she could refuse. 

She hadn’t liked her spanking all that much. She wasn’t angry with me for spanking her. It was just something we’d tried, and we found that it hadn’t done much for her.

nipIt wasn’t that she didn’t like being hurt. When I’d squeezed her nipples, she’d wanted more, until I pressed as hard as I could and turned them like taps. That had worked ecstatically well, but it had to have hurt more than the fairly careful spanking I’d given her. Some things work, and some things just don’t. 

But I’d used the fact that she hadn’t liked being spanked to shorten the discussion about whether she was going to suck my cock. She’d rewarded me thoroughly for that piece of bad behaviour.  

If I’d thought that she’d take the threat to spank her seriously, then I’d have been a bully, not a dom. I didn’t feel that her consent covered me to do things she didn’t enjoy, once I’d been shown or told that she didn’t like them. 

That applied only because she was new to these things. Of course it’s different between doms and more experienced submissives. If I can find something that an experienced submissive doesn’t like, I’ll use it. It lets her feel she’s not in control. If everything is too good, the submissive can start to think the dom is serving her. She doesn’t want that.

But in Svitlana’s case, I could threaten to spank her not because of her consent but because we’d laughed a lot, including at me. She could enjoy the threat, and the sense that she was sucking me because she’d be punished if she didn’t, while at the same time she knew that the punishment was a phantom: it would never exist. 

You can’t reduce consent to a few rules. It’s still complicated even after formal consent is given. It’s a dance of advances and retreats. 

Back to the story  tomorrow.