Probation Officer #110: Sa’afia’s punishment night 5

I had lain back, and, with her wrists and ankles free, Sa’afia unbound, she’d licked and sucked at my cock. Sa’afia had begun in a playful mood. She knew she was good at cock-sucking. She’d thought I had nothing to show her, and she could show me things that she knew. 

But the emotion wasn’t quite right. So I’d done something I’d never do in non-bdsm sex: I grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her head down onto my cock, thrusting deep into her throat until I knew she’d be uncomfortable, and held her down until she gagged. Bad sex manners for men.

Then I’d let her part-way up, and, looking her in the eyes, picked up the rod. I’d reached down and given her four new, vertical, stripes on her bottom. She’d gasped, cock still in her mouth, as each one landed. The strokes were unfairly hard.

I’d touched her face with the rod when I’d finished, so she could see that I was going to keep it in my hand while she served me. I’d promised that she’d get the same again each time she gagged. My voice growled at the back of my throat. But if she let my cock slide out of her mouth, I’d added, I’d give her a full dozen. They’d be hard.

sucklifeSa’afia had nodded solemnly, with just the head of my cock in her mouth, and dropped her head to return to her task. I stopped pushing her head down, but twisted the handful of her hair as a compensation. 

She returned to her task, and I said, “Ah.” Her mouth around my cock was soft, wet paradise, of course, but I also felt an oddly physical satisfaction, which somehow seemed to be located in my stomach muscles, that I’d brought us back to our respective places.

Sa’afia was still doing something she was skilled at, and she was proud of her skill. But though she knew what to do, she was no longer in a familiar place. She glanced up at me and our eyes met. That’s the memory.

Probation Officer #99: The lick of love

I stopped tonguing. Sa’afia made a little sound of protest, so I clambered up till I was on my knees between her spread thighs. I pulled up her right thigh, looking down at her, and smacked the underside, as high as I could reach. 

Sa’afia said, “Oh.” As though she’d just understood something. She didn’t struggle, but watched me intently, as I brought my hand down again. Cool, her thigh was, and firm. I smacked her again, just as hard. My palm on her thigh was loud. Sa’afia was silent.

She bit her lip, still staring into my eyes. This was what a man looked like when he spanked her. She hadn’t been able to watch my face before. I suppose I looked fierce, and single-minded. 

After another four hard smacks her skin was less cool to my touch. She was finding it hard to keep still when every instinct made her want to wriggle away. After the seventh smack she made her little sound, a sorrowful-sounding “oooh”, sweet, low and similar to the sounds she made when she was about to come. It was her pained, pleasured noise, and there was no sorrow in it. I already knew that I loved that sound, and it would always be hard for me to stop while she was making it.

Eventually we both lost count, somewhere after the fortieth smack. Her right thigh burned to the touch. I’d left her left thigh alone. I smiled down at Sa’afia, because she was beautiful and, just then, entirely, utterly, mine. She smiled uncertainly back. She was wet, glazed and shiny wet, wetter than she’d been while I was tonguing her. But my hand was really hurting her.

kiss1I put that hand, the hand I’d hurt her with, to her mouth so she could feel how warm it was. Her own warmth.

She kissed my palm, then put her tongue out and licked it.

She understood. 

Probation Officer #98: The navel and the cunt

I pushed Sa’afia so she tumbled back, falling on pillows, her eyes still on me. Air rushed out where she landed. She put her arms above her head and said, “whoo.” 

But if she stretches, the crease disappears.

But if she stretches, the crease disappears.

I said, “You didn’t want to hear about your belly button before. Too late to ask now. Anyway, it was that crease I liked. And it’s gone.” I kissed where it used to be.

Then I kissed lower. Sa’afia sighed, after a while, and rested her hand on the back of my head. She was wet, and she pushed her cunt into my face and wriggled until she was comfortable. She felt it was important that I had access. Tongue access, lip access, tip of my nose access.

Such a helpful girl.

A minute or two later she rubbed her inner thighs against the stubble on my face, as affection and because she liked the roughness.

The hand on the back of my head pressed down, and then toyed with my hair and then ceased to do anything coherent. She was breathing hard. 

If I pinched her nipples, I knew, she would come. She smelled ready, and there was an edge, a sense of precipice, to her breathing. She scratched her thighs on my face. I liked her thighs. I was in a good place. Then I considered the way she was using my face to hurt herself. I thought about that for a second. I didn’t pinch her nipples. 


whip suck
Edward Said would have described the picture above as an example of Westerners projecting sexual stereotypes and “forbidden” sexual desires onto figures from “the East”. 

And he’d be right, for all that large chunks of his book Orientalism have been convincingly debunked, particularly by Robert Irwin and Ibn Warraq. 

I just think that it’s not a very comfortable angle for oral sex. From the whipper’s point of view, that is. However, I like the way the woman has been attached to the frame so that her feet can’t touch the ground. It’s disorienting, as Mr Said would never have said. It’s a nice detail. 

Obviously, I don’t have time to do a proper post today. If anyone knows who the artist is, please let me know. 

Sweet dreams #3: Long soup

A woman dom with a submissive man can suck his cock as part of keeping him in his submissive space. She can tell him that he’s being teased and tested, that he has to stay absolutely hard in her mouth, but he’s not allowed to come. Or else. Or she can say he has to come quickly, and get soft again, quickly, because he’s being “milked” to reduce his male energy and any tendency to forcefulness.

So a man can have his cock sucked by his dom and remain in submissive role.

If she demands that he get on his knees and do her, she receives his tongue and his attention as service. When he licks her, he’s being submissive. Why? Because they both say so.

dreams1But if I licked – let’s say Sa’afia – I’d be thinking how I controlled her. I’d hold her down, I’d demand that she ask permission before she comes, and I’d let her wait and panic a bit before I gave that permission. I’d be dominant, and poor Sa’afia, with my lips and nose and tongue in her cunt, would be submissively under my control.

Whereas if she kneels while I stand, and takes my cock in her mouth, then we’ll be getting back to where I left the Probation Officer story.

I’ve finished one project. I’m going to Mostar, in Bosnia and Herzegovina be cause I’m due at a conference. Just observing, not doing anything. That’ll be less busy. Normal blogging should be resumed tomorrow.

Choking and the inner nine-year old

There was a moment, while the girl was getting her breath back after I’d pulled my cock out of her throat, in which I had a half-witted thought: “She choked on my cock? Just my cock? Amazing! I must be enormous.” So doms can be idiots, or at least I can. 

How may i serve you, Master?

How may this cutaway diagram serve you, Master?

The choking incident surprised me, though. I’ve never had anything like that happen before. Not even when I’m being deep-throated. I didn’t really think it was possible. 

It must have been the angle. I was standing while she knelt, and I was thrusting down into her throat. That somehow blocked her oesophagus and the trachea at once. It was the angle more than the depth: she wasn’t deep-throating when it happened. 

Anyway, choking on a cock, or choking a girl with your cock, is easier than you might think. 

Choke: back in the flow

So I pushed her down onto the bed, spread and lifted her thighs, and did her. She enjoyed this, but she wasn’t reacting with the enthusiasm I’d hoped for. She wasn’t happy yet, or relaxed. 

I was still seeking her forgiveness, and that was what I was doing wrong. It put her in charge, where she didn’t want to be. So I kissed her cunt goodbye, for now, and rolled onto my back. pulling her with me.

We finished with her face down across my lap. There was her ass, right where my hand was.  I smacked it, medium hard. 

After a dozen spanks her body relaxed, but she was still frowning. I whispered, “no, this is a good girl spanking. You’ve been good. But it’s going to hurt you.” She nodded. The frown was gone.

There were no more judgements, and everything was right. I spanked her for about half an hour, while she sighed, and occasionally cried out, and wiggled happily. Then all was well. 

Choked: the awkward aftermath

So she and I are holding each other, after she had her breath back, but things are wrong.

I’m supposed to be in charge. Things are right when I judge her conduct, and decide whether she needs reward or punishment, and decide when she’s forgiven. She likes to be a little afraid of me, when I judge her. She’s proud that discipline, for her, is very strict. I don’t let disobedience slip, and when I cane her, I cane hard. Though the pain turns her on, my little masochist, she still fears it.

But it’s sexy and fun fearing me because I’m in charge. Being afraid because I’m choking her and I don’t even realise: that’s not fun. So at this moment I’m judging myself, not her, and I’m not impressed.

She knew I felt bad, and tried to reassure me. And though that was nice and I appreciated it, I didn’t want her to feel that she had to look after me.

So, I decided, I’d drag her to bed and apply the kiss of life to her cunt. That should cheer her up. 

Art o’ choke

I was still half hard, so there was a sense in which my cock felt weightier, more substantial, than if i’d been fully erect. An erect cock has no weight; it’s self-supporting, and although it has mass it bobs about like a balloon. I felt good, and comfortable, sliding down her throat, knowing that she’d feel me growing fully hard in her mouth, and that this would turn her on.

tumblr_mcm3b1CSon1ri93wwo1_500But after perhaps a minute she made to pull back. She’d done that the previous time she’d sucked my cock. Her jaw got tired, and she sometimes tried to rest and take a little less of me . But I wasn’t in the mood to allow her to be half-hearted, so I tightened my grip on her hair, pulled her mouth forward, and thrust deeper. Then, sighing happily, I started to move gently, fucking her mouth.

This happened twice more over the next couple of minutes, and the second time I took my belt off, enjoying the recognition in her eyes at that gesture, and gave her bottom six smart whacks. Then I put the belt round the back of her neck, and used it to keep her serving, unable to back away. 

I was sure that she was feeling properly controlled. But then she made a gesture I hadn’t seen before. She held her hands up in the air, half-closed, her wrists flapping. I watched. It seemed very feminine, and very helpless. 

Only then, at last, the light went on in my brain, and I pulled out of her mouth quickly. She sucked in air. Oh, I realised, far too late; she couldn’t breath.  

I’d never choked a woman before, in fellatio or in any other way. I don’t like breath play. I don’t like the risk, and I don’t like the symbolism of it.

So I helped her up. I kissed her. I apologised. I told her how I’d misread the way she’d tried to pull back. She said she’d known why I’d done that. In our previous session, I’d let her rest her jaw when she sucked my cock, but I’d told her that next time I wouldn’t be so lenient. I’d said that she had to focus on my pleasure and not her comfort. So she knew what I thought was happening. 

I said if anything like that happened again, where she couldn’t speak, then she should just hit the side of my knee. That’d count as a safe word. I apologised for not having thought of that before. 

So she was in my arms, and holding me back while I held her. I was forgiven, more or less. But I’d frightened her, and there were tears in her eyes. 


A woman came to visit me. I’d given her instructions about what she had to do, once she’d knocked on my door.  

My neighbourhood is the sort of place where no-one is likely to notice a woman undress at someone’s front door and wait naked on her knees to be invited in. There aren’t many people around. And if someone did notice they’d be neither shocked nor dangerous. I live in the country, but the people around here tend to be  artists/writers/musicians, etc, rather than farmers. 

Although no-one would see my naked, kneeling girl,her or care if they did, I hurried when I heard her knock. I wanted her. There was lust between us. Just thinking of my name made her wet. I knew that because she told me, and I knew it was true because it only took her name, or the thought of any detail of her body or how she moved or spoke, to make me hard.

So I answered the door, and although she lowered her head to kiss my shoes, which I usually liked to watch, I grabbed a swatch of her hair and pulled her up so she could take my cock in her mouth.