Sublime Submission

"New Tokyo Decadence - The Slave" Review

2011-07-06T02:05:00.002-04:00

New Tokyo Decadence – The Slave

aka Dorei
aka Tsumaranai atashi no dôdemoii monogatari

Director: Osamu Satô

Cast: Rinako Hirasawa, Kikujiro Honda, Yui

Pink Eiga / NTSC R1 / Unrated / 16×9 Widescreen / Digital Sound / 61 minutes

It has been a while since I posted but I just had to review this wonderful gem I saw tonight. Here at last is another is honest and humor filled portrayal of the BDSM lifestyle. New Tokyo Decadence – The Slave is everything I love about Secretary with a few more extra naughty scenes and unbridled Japanese eroticism. It is about a young woman, Rani, who knows exactly what she is (a self proclaimed masochist) and what she wants out of life (to be a sex slave). She does not try to explain or justify it she just accepts it and goes with it. She discovered her masochistic tendencies in high school with her math teacher—Flashback to Rani tied her up in her school uniform while her teacher makes her recite trig equations while pleasuring her. She realizes her calling in life then and there. After working as a Dom at a S&M club (which she is quite good at because of her submissive insights) to make money during college she takes a job as a secretary at an office. Her boss takes one look at her and identifies her for what she is. Caught in a private moment in his office he says, “You're a masochist, right?” and then places his fingers in her mouth pulling her to the ground so she is kneeling in front of him, “Do you want to be my slave?” What follows is a whirlwind relationship. In the company of others he is her boss, but behind closed doors he finds every manner of delicious torture to satisfy their cravings. There are floggings, exquisite rope bondage, hot wax, a threesome with a sexy call girl and so much more. (Oh boy Oh boy!) But when the shy boy who works in the office falls in love with her. Rani is forced to choose whether to leave her masochist lifestyle behind for a more traditional one.

Throughout it all the characters shine through as authentic and relate-able. The film is narrated by the protagonist who demonstrates humor and emotion in her narration and her performance. The cinematography is striking with beautiful scenes such as the bound naked Rani hanging from a lone tree in desolate prairie. It has a pulp quality with captions and freeze frames to highlight moments of humor and introspection. The sex scenes are non-simulated soft core showing just enough to keep it authentic but without the typical cheesiness. The framing and colors are bright in intriguing and the scenes portrayed are exciting, stimulating, but most importantly realistic. So natural in fact, I felt like I could take the place of the protagonist at any moment.

I give it five OOOOOs for the honest and humor filled portrayal. At no point is anyone abused, the activities are always safe, sane and consensual. The story is told without a single hint of shame or judgment on the lifestyle. The driving question of the film is, “What should I do with my life to make me happy?” It's one that just about everyone (even vanilla people) can relate to.

New Tokyo Decadence - The Slave can be purchased from Pink Eiga, and you can see the full, uncensored trailer here.

Cuffs from JT's Stock Room and Halloween Plans

2010-10-29T05:35:00.008-04:00

Remember those cuffs I've been drooling over all these years? My Master bought me a set this week and my God are they delicious!!!! The leather is so soft and they fit me just right. Who ever knew bondage could be so comfortable! I felt like O. We tried them on tonight. They worked perfectly with a light chain locked between my ankles and an extra long padlock clipping my wrists. You'll have to picture me on my hands and knees--well knees and elbows anyway. Papi likes me to arch my back as much as possible so my ass sticks in the air. He whipped me with the leather leash on my ass back and thighs. It was delectable. The whole time I was wearing a little glass butt plug. As you can imagine a good romp and yummy orgasms followed. I took it in the ass like a good girl. Its funny how good bondage can rocket you into your submissive head space. I noticed that when in that head space, pain translates itself into the pleasure and discomfiture only exacerbates the feeling. Have any of you naughty boys and girls noticed this as well?

I am truly my Darling's spoiled exotic little sex pet in these babies. Aren't they beautiful? Hopefully there will be a picture of me wearing them at some point....hmmm. I'll bet you'd like to see that huh?

OK so I have some AMAZING news. This Halloween we are officially visiting a dungeon. I will not say which one, you will have to wonder, but if you happen upon a very naughty Little Red Riding Hood wearing her new beautiful red cuffs this weekend, you will know its me. I am so excited to meet other kinky people and see a BDSM playground. I have a feeling some of my deepest darkest fantasies might come to pass this weekend.

I have longed to visit a dungeon since I learned such places existed. I'm still flabbergasted that they do exist. We've tossed around fantasies and pillow talk about sharing me with others. We've had our naughty threesome and I had my own lesie experience-but although these sessions were sensually wonderful, I am hard-wired as a submissive, and what really gets me going is pain, humiliation, sexual objection, bondage, loss of power, etc. To play like that you need people who understand the way you think and who act appropriately. I will never get that from vanilla sex. So the idea of meeting people who understand this need and being in a place that welcomes it---its positively titillating. The only next best thing would be to swept of to Roissy for a weekend....

Have a wonderful Halloween everyone. I will surly have a treat for you real soon when I share what happens at Naughtybuttcute's very first dungeon adventure.

Visit to the Island of Lesbos

2010-09-19T05:41:00.012-04:00

Recently I had my first entirely lesbian experience. It was wonderful. The more I learn about my sensuality, the more I free my mind and allow my body to feel the sensations it longs to feel, the more I let go of needless stereotypes and labels---the more alive I feel.

L started to shower. She had had a long day and wanted to refresh herself. I had lost a bet to her. My fanciful thinking (read: BDSM obsessed brain) had me convinced that the lyrics to the theme song of True Blood included "I want to do bad things to you." As often in the English language, one word can change the meaning of a sentence. The lyrics are actually, "I want to do bad things with you." But I had already "locked in those lyrics" (sorry folks, I couldn't resist) and lost the bet. The reward, a sensuous massage of the back and ass for the victor.

So, I found myself with a new mistress for the evening. I thought it was going to be a lovely massage and that would be that so you can imagine my surprise when shortly after L got into the shower, my Master called and ordered me to join to her.

Let me just repeat that so we are perfectly clear...He ordered me to join L in the shower.

Now, I know what you are thinking, Some naughty girl you are...isn't this the girl who recently extolled the virtues of menage a tois?! Now shut up and be a good little slave!

Yes, my faithful readers. This little self-proclaimed bisexual was about to be thoroughly initiated--and boy was I nervous! You see this was sex without my Master. He had made himself scarce in order to facilitate this whole experience (little did I know...) I, much like my dearest heroine O, was being passed off to a partner of my Darling's choosing.

*gulp* But the order was given and far be it for this slave girl to disobey! Besides I cannot tell a lie. The idea brought fire to my belly and made my "gusset" sop with moisture (By the way thanks for brilliant naughty British vocab, Zara Delacruz....more on this tantalizing erotic author later!). So I refreshed L's drink (as a good hostess should) and poured myself a BIG glass of wine. I took all my clothes off and got into the shower with her, bringing my glass of wine with me.

"Now what," L said, "What do you want to do?"

I said the proper submissive thing, "Well its not up to me...He left you in charge."

A smile curled on her lips.

"So what does that mean?" She said.

"You're in charge, anything you say goes..."

"Anything?"

"Yes Mistress..." I said and a thrill went through me. L is slightly taller than me, I am about 5.5.. She has short brown hair and dazzling hazel-brown eyes. She is curvier than me, and as a result has bountiful breasts with perfect sand-dollar sized areolas. Staring at those wine color disks and the tiny peaks that had grown hard in excitement, I recalled my first lesbian experience in which me and high school girl rubbed our nipples together. Let me tell you I wanted to try it again with L. Beyond that, I was unsure of myself. I needed her to lead me. Having a novice like myself in her power must have intrigued her because L nodded and ordered me to come to her. She started stroking my hips softly, rubbing circles gently tracing curvy lines up along my side until she touched my breasts. She rubbed each of them, grabbing one of my nipples and pinching lightly. I moaned appreciatively. The hot water poured down on us. Her smile was infectuous. It was cat-like in her pleasure. I was her little play-thing, it it pleased her. The fingers traversed my skin lightly, softly, teasingly. She finally let them go south, they traced my belly and then down and down until she was rubbing the triangle of flesh above my bush. Her touch was feather-light. Such a different feel than that of my Master's. Her fingers tickled the edge of my nether lips softly spreading them open until I felt her touch on my clit. Somehow her expert fingers plunged into me in such a formation as to resemble a cock while simultaneously stimulating my clit. And if that wasn't enough she whispered in my ear..."Your Master told me you liked pain, that I shouldn't be gentle with you..." I nodded feeling her fingers migrate up into me. She waited for no further response but grabbed my ear with her teeth and bit down hard. The feeling was ecstasy. The pain melted in with all the pleasure and a shuttering orgasm arose from my toes and over took me with trembling, heavy breathing and muttered oaths in a matter of moments. As I was recovering, she asked, "Did you like that?"
I nodded, "Yes, Mistress" I finally managed to say after several sharp inhalations. I made to return the favor, running my hands down her hips fully intending on at the very least teasing her clit with my fingers...I doubted my own ablitly to please her the way I had just been pleased. But she slapped my hand away.

"I'll take that massage now," L said, "go get ready. Ready meant oil, soft music, candles and another drink, so I hurried out of the shower to her bidding. After a while she met me in the bedroom. I asked her to lie face down and she did. I oiled up my hands and poured long streams of oil down her back.

I am a very good masseuse. My back and neck rubs are a treasured commodity and I was determined to give L the best possible massage. So I took my time. I started at her shoulders working out all the tension I could with intense grabbing, squeezing and pressure to the trouble spots. I made my way down her back. I knelt next to her on the bed, still naked ( at her insistence) and finally when I wanted to provide more pressure I straddled her. Beneath me L made moans of pleasure and pain. I enjoyed the power of it--to know that my touch was causing all this reaction. Know further, that she was enjoying my ministrations. I moved my way down her back finally reaching her pert ass. It was a very spankable ass, round and firm. Her vivacious curves provided her with an ample seat. For a brief moment I wondered what it would be like to be the mistress and spank that beautiful backside. But today I was her slave so I did my best to rub the tension out with tiny intense circles.

When L was near to sleep, she flipped over onto her back and I completely in my submissive mind set bent over to alight my fingers on her center. This time she allowed me. I folded back her nether lips and lightly touched the nodule of flesh. It surprised me just how moist she was. Her juices slick on my finger I started moving my finger in a flicking motion that I had used on myself many a time. She responded by moaning and bucking her hips. I could feel her pleasure rising. At one point she asked me if I had a vibrator and I said "Yes Mistress" and pulled out my Rabbit. I applied the rubbing, humming rabbit ears to her cilt and within seconds she exploded into a trembling orgasm. Afterwords she lay quite content on my bed.

Looking back I am glad to have had the expereince and I am eager to repeat it with L and other girls.

Renewing Our Vows

2010-09-18T15:52:00.002-04:00

My Darling and I just moved to a new neighborhood. As of such, we've been granted a fresh start of sorts. We've decided to take advantage of the move to improve our lives in every way possible. We had a big yard sale to sell off some clutter, we've started going on more walks with our dog (we live very near to a park now) and today we renewed our Domestic Discipline vows. Looking over our old contract, it was exciting to see how much we had grown as a couple. How much we had learned, what bad habits we had nixed and how much our agreement had done for creating harmony in our household.

It was time to revise the contract to meet our present needs. I've posted what we came up with below. You'll notice that there is only on contract now and it is written from the perspective of both of us. We decided that it needed be a "us" document so even the contract itself reflects the harmony we create by abiding by it. Also we took anything that could be considered micro-managing. Instead we focused on three major tenants: Obedience, Respect and Safety. We defined what each of them meant to us. We also included clear guidelines on how and when discipline should be applied. Finally we included a few disclaimers so that our document was completely clear as to our intentions, differentiate our actions from those of abuse and made it entirely evident that the submissive partner consented to everything. We're not lawyers or anything but we feel if any misunderstanding were to occur our contract would be sufficient to explain our lifestyle and hopefully protect us from any legal intervention.

Here's the newly revised contract. Please let us know what you think.

-Naughtybuttcute

THE DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE AGREEMENT

Updated: 9-18-2010

We, (Sub) and (HOH), do hereby acknowledge that we have read the information on domestic discipline and approve of the doctrines it advocates. From this date on it is our wish to have our conduct regulated by the enforcement of these doctrines. We give to (HOH), therefore, the full right and permission to remove (Sub)’s privileges, give time outs, make her kneel, or spank her whenever (HOH) feels such discipline would prove helpful and be in accordance with the spirit of the agreement. This agreement has been entered into willingly for the purpose of improving our disposition and maintaining the balance and harmony of our household. We will review this contract at the beginning of a disagreement and all issues should be resolved within 24-48 hours of the incident.

We understand that consequences will be in order if the following promises, in categories of obedience, respect and safety, are broken.

As defined by:

Obedience:

1. (Sub) must always consent to spankings or other forms of punishment even if she doesn’t agree to them at the time.

2. (Sub) must be in obedience and submission to (HOH) as Head of our Household and will follow his directions in as far as they are not detrimental to her physically, mentally, or spiritually. If she feels that a decision or action is questionable, she may request a time out for a discussion to resolve the issue(s).

3. (Sub) must never disobey a direct order (within reason) e.g. household task, etc.

4. (Sub) must be attentive to (HOH)’s needs in a timely fashion (which is to be determined by him).

Respect:

1. We must never use derogatory or inflammatory speech towards each other. This includes: rude or smart aleck remarks and putdowns.

2. (Sub) must never undermine (HOH)’s authority in front of his or her friends, coworkers, family or peers or our future children.

3. We must not make “I can’t” kind of statements.

4. We must refrain from interrupting each other. In addition (Sub) must avoid general disrespect of (HOH)’s authority.

5. (Sub) must respond when spoken to within a timely fashion.

6. We must not make inactive statements without suggesting solutions (complaining, i.e. “don’t shit each other”).

7. Be respectful of each other’s time & space.

Honesty:

a) We must be honest in all things.

b) We must not tell outright lies, half truths, or lies of omission.

c) We must not withhold information relevant to our family—especially for fear of repercussion.

Safety:

9. (Sub) must make sure to have a ride home or a friend to accompany her if she is going to be out past dark.

10. We must take our vitamins daily and other medicine as needed.

11. If (HOH) feels that (Sub) is not taking good care of her health, then he has the right to open a discussion.

12. We must check in with each other before we make a purchase, withdrawal, payment, or any other financial transaction so that we maintain our financial sanity.

13. No personal information is to be shared unless we have talked it through, and decided that it can be.

Consequences & Discipline:

In accordance with this agreement we promise and agree to the following:

1. We will to resume friendly relations after a punishment is over. To hold a grudge or to continue a quarrel or misunderstanding after a punishment has been administered is in direct violation of the whole spirit of domestic discipline.

2. We will never divulge our lifestyle to anyone without either’s permission, and (HOH) will be discreet in administering discipline.

3. (HOH) will discipline (Sub) thoroughly whenever he feels it is in accordance with these agreements.

4. (HOH) will spank (Sub) with any safe implement deemed appropriate by him.

5. (HOH) will take care to be humane in the application of discipline.

6. (HOH) will spank (Sub) only upon her buttocks.

7. (Sub) will cooperate with (HOH) faithfully. She will get ready for punishment promptly when asked to do so and will bear (HOH) absolutely no ill-will for disciplining her. She promises further to ask for discipline when she feels she needs or deserves it.

8. (HOH) will be clear with his expectations and directions.

9. (HOH) will be consistent—the same rules and the same consequences should apply all the time.

10. Each time (HOH) decides to assert his authority, he will check in with himself and make sure that he is always acting in the best interest of our family.

11. (HOH) will use the less serve forms of punishments such as time out, kneeling and/or removal of privileges, as he deems necessary depending on the severity of the infraction.

12. (HOH) will limit physical discipline to spanking. He will never strike (Sub) with the back of his hand or his hand closed in a fist anywhere on her body. If any action seems questionable by (Sub) she may request a time out for discussion. If at any time (Sub) feels she is being abused then she has the right to contact the authorities and/or take any appropriate action to secure her safety.

Procedure for the Application of Discipline:

Level 1: Warning (Stern talking to i.e. tsk tsk) and/or time out

Level 2: Spanking by hand or other light implement. Equivalent time spent kneeling would also apply.

Level 3: Spanking with belt or implement of the same magnitude, equivalent time kneeling, or a combination of the two.

Rules can be modified as needed for the relationship’s positive progress. Both partners must be in agreement prior to the ratification and/or adoption of said changes.

I have read, understood, will subscribe to, and promise to abide by the above agreements.

(Signed)

X________________________________(Sub) X________________________________(HOH)

An Interview with Naughty

2010-02-24T05:13:00.002-05:00

The world famous Pixie from Spanking Tube answered these questions for her fans. I thought it was least I could do for mine.

-Naughtybuttcute

1) Would you rather be spanked outside in a cold woodshed or inside by a cozy fire?

Let’s do a trial run of each and I’ll tell you which I like better.

2) Would you rather be spanked in public or in private?

Private for the most part, being spanked in public would be embarrassing---unless maybe it was around a bunch of kinky people---than it might be a turn on.

3) Would you rather fantasize about spanking or actually be spanked?

My fantasies are pretty steamy and would probably hurt a lot more in real life, but actually being spanked cannot be beat (pun intended).

4) Would you rather be spanked for your humiliation or for your spanker's pleasure?

I think my spanker gets pleasure out of my humiliation so it’s kind of a win-win.

5) Would you rather be spanked by hand or by hairbrush?

Umm, by hand and then hairbrush? Depends if He’s mad or not…I do not want the hairbrush when He’s mad!!

6) Would you rather be spanked by belt or by cane?

I have yet to feel the cane so I guess I’ll have to go with the dreaded cinteron! Oh my god I’ve got goosebumps just thinking about it.

7) Would you rather be spanked by paddle or riding crop?

I once took a quiz online that said the riding crop would be my ideal implement. However because I have yet to spanked with one, I can’t say. I do hate paddles though…just too thuddy. Shhhh, don’t tell my Master!

8) Would you rather be restrained or unrestrained during your spanking?

For a really severe spanking I would like to be restrained. It would make it much easier to accept it. I wiggle too much for my own good and hate having to focus on maintaining a spanking position. I think the pain and humiliation of a spanking are quite enough to worry about (Thank you!) It’s too much to have to stick my own ass in the air and hold still waiting for the blow!

9) Would you rather be spanked until you cried or until you are aroused?

Depends on His intent and what I needed at the time. Of course an erotic spanking is more fun, but sometimes I need a good bruising!

10) Would you rather just a red bottom or welts/bruises?

I love to be marked! If it is from an erotic spanking than my little welts and bruises are like souvenirs, if it was from a punishment spanking they are solid reminders that linger and remind me who the boss is.

11) Would you rather be spanked for the naughty things you have done or just because you enjoy the experience?

Again it depends on what’s needed. It’s just not up to me.

12) Would you rather be spanked with pants up/skirt down or pants down/skirt up?

On the bare of course, unless I’m in trouble then I’d like to wear my ski pants and three pairs of undies!

13) Would you rather be spanked with panties up or panties down?

Not to be bratty, or anything but didn’t I just answer that question?

14) Would you rather be spanked somewhat clothed or entirely naked?

This is one is somewhat more tricky. Mostly when I am punished I am partly clothed yet I feel even more naked then when I am actually naked (Go figure!).

15) Would you rather your spanking be strictly disciplinarian or sexually attractive in nature?

Depends on the circumstance but in general I like even my sexual spankings to have a disciplinarian note…

16) Would you rather be spanked by a male or by a female?

Any females want to spank me? I can’t say until I’ve tried it.

17) Would you rather be cuddled or scolded after your spanking?

Cuddled. After I’ve been a bad girl I want reassurance that everything is OK again.

18) Would you rather be spanked OTK or bent over a table/chair?

I love OTK but it is rarely used in my house except for maybe a stress relief spanking upon my request.

19) Would you rather your spanker have physical contact with you (ex: OTK, hand spanking, grabbing you while spanking) or would you prefer no
physical contact (ex: spanked with an implement, in a restraining
device)?

I think I would prefer contact but my Master seems to like to distance Himself. I submit to His pleasure of course.

20) Would you prefer to be spanked in the woods with a tree branch bent
over the hood of a car or in a school with a ruler bent over the desk
of your teacher/principal?

Yes. Let’s do both and in that order.

21) Would you rather be a brat to your spanker to deserve a spanking or simply ask your spanker for a spanking because you know you needed it?

I hate bratting and try my best not to do it for real just in a playful way in the bedroom.

23) Would you rather be spanked for the physical pleasure or the emotional release?

Yes! Depends on what is needed and when. But I certainly require both types of spankings.

24) Would you rather tell your best friends you enjoy be spanked or keep it secret?

I doubt many of my friends would understand me. I must have some kind of kinky magnetism though because it only took a few writing groups to discover some of my friends are kinky too…we slowly divulge secrets to each other usually in the form of “fictional” erotica…

25) Would you rather spanking be a lifestyle choice or just something you dabble in?

Now that I’ve opened Pandora’s box, I ain’t ever going to get it shut again. I might as well enjoy it. Kinky is my life.

26) Would you rather your lover be a vanilla or a spankoholic too?

The kinkier the merrier I say. I could never be with a vanilla lover again!

27) Would you rather be spanked by a stranger or by someone who knew you well?

Well I have yet to be spanked by a stranger but I am eager to try, as soon as we find the right person and Papi gives permission, I am all for it.

28) Would you rather be spanked by despotic, mean person or by a compassionate, benevolent person?

I think I could only serve a compassionate, benevolent person every day of my life but I could be spanked by a mean person on occasion…A spanking is a spanking after all.

29) Would you rather be talked to while you are spanked or no talking at all?

Depends on my mood and the mood of the spanking. My Darling sometimes lectures, sometimes just spanks. I would like to try counting some time “One thank you sir…” I am interested to see if I could that up…

30) Would you rather one swat at a time with pauses to let the sting set in or a continuous tanning to build up the fire?

I would rather not know what’s coming at all and just accept it for what it is. That’s for my spanker to decide.

31) Would you rather be forced into a spanking or willingly submit into a spanking?

If I need to be spanked, spank me with or without my consent…just make sure you have my Husbands though! LOL

32) Would you rather have a safe word or be pushed beyond your preconceived limits?

I would rather the ending of the spanking be decided by the spanker. I could not be trusted with a safe word. I’d use it three blows in.

33) Would you rather your spanker know your spanking history or is ignorance bliss?

It’s inconsequential. I would like for anyone who wants to spank me to read my blog though…hint hint www.sublimesubmission.blogspot.com...

34) Would you rather be spanked by multiple people at one time or just by one person at one time?

Yet another experience I have yet to have…bring it on…or I’ll never be able to answer this question truefully…

35) Would you rather be spanked once a day or once every few months?

If I had a label it would say “Spank as Needed.”

36) Would you rather your spanker be deeply in tune or be totally unaffected to your experience as a spankee?

Somewhere in the middle I guess. Too empathetic and He/She might stop too soon. Too apathetic and He/She might never stop!

37) Would you rather a closer physical relationship or a closer emotional relationship with your spanker?

I have both with my Husband. I am not seeking that elsewhere.

38) Would you rather your spanker ice your bottom down after a spanking or send you to the corner to display his/her accomplishment?

I have never been sent to the corner before and would love to experience it. So whoever spanks me next, please take note. I have never iced my bottom before either though. My Darling likes the pain to linger.

39) Would you rather your spanker be the person you wish to live the rest
of your life with (i.e. marriage) or the person you can call on when
your tushy tickles?

Obviously I prefer my Husband in all things including this but if He wants to share, or isn’t in the mood to spank me I would hope we’d have a substitute in the wings because we wouldn’t want my bottom to go unspanked, now would we?

40) Would you rather spanking be a part of love making or not a part of love making?

It seems all my erogenous zones are quite connected so spanking often leads to love making.

41) Would you rather your spanker have total control over you when you are being spanked or do you still want to have some control while you are
being spanked?

I prefer total loss of control.

42) Would you rather be humiliated or respected during your spanking?

Respected? What do you think this is an interview with Oprah!

43) Would you rather spanking become part of a bigger BDSM alternative lifestyle or spanking just be spanking for spanking sake?

Spanking is irrevocably part of my lifestyle. I wouldn’t be satisfied with just a spanking for spanking’s sake.

44) Would you rather be filmed during a spanking to share you
exhibitionistic naughtiness or are you too modest to show your bum to
the world?

I’ve been filmed but have yet to share. Keep your fingers crossed, perhaps Papi will someday give his permission.

45) Would you rather your spanking be gentle, gradual or painful, abrupt?

I prefer not to know at all and just leave it to the spanker.

46) Would you rather be defiant or fearful going into a spanking?

I am usually both.

47) Would you rather be spanked exclusively in your own bedroom or anyplace else other than your own bedroom?

I’d rather be spanked wherever it was needed…I would draw the line at the aisle 9 in the grocery store though…I’m not sure my Husband would however….

48) Would you rather be spanked exclusively on your bottom or other places could be interesting too?

Recently my Darling whipped my back with the leather leash. It was a most exquisite pain. I re-watched The Story of O movie and wondered how it felt. He was happy to oblige. Sometimes I am spanked on my thighs---and I hate that!

49) Would you rather a spanking be a surprise or be something you have to look forward to?

By look forward to, do you mean dread? My Master usually does not tell me in advance. He spanks on the spot right after the crime is committed or surprises me in the bedroom.

50) Would you rather spanking be a part of role playing kinkiness or a response to events that have happened in reality?

We do both. We like to cook up a good fiction in the bedroom but punishment spankings are for real offences and really hurt!

Anyone Want to Spank Me?

2010-01-29T02:22:00.003-05:00

Well I hope so because my darling Papi has just given me permission to get spanked/dominated/tied up by others then Himself.

This is a very exciting thought....although a little scary. I wonder how others would go about spanking naughty girls such as myself.

I am very interested in experiencing different styles of discipline. I would like to be taken in hand by a woman- er- I mean Mistress, at some point. I would be very interested in a man who could master me psychologically as well as physically. I would also love to role play (The Story of O, School Girl, Secretary, Kidnapped are among my favorites) . I would love to be tied up in Japanese style rope bondage. I am intrigued by the idea of having others double up with my husband in tag team spanking and dominance. I would like to be spanked and humiliated in front of a group.

What would you (or your Dom) do with me if he/she had me at their disposal?

Skype Gives New Meaning to Phone Sex!

2010-01-05T05:12:00.003-05:00

This is going to have to be a quick post because it is late but I couldn't wait to share with my readers about my newest naughty adventure. I am out of state visiting my parents now and my husband had to stay home and work. Sad yes, but we have gotten really creative in dealing with our separation.

Skype turned out to be a lifesaver....or at least mojosaver. Twice now, I've locked my door and stripped down in front of my webcam in order to act out my Honey's wildest naughty web girl fantasies. He tells me what to do, and I do it. Naughty Naughty Naughty! I've given myself snappy little spankings with a wooden hairbrush and a leather belt. I've put all ten fingers to good purpose stroking and spelunking as commanded. Naughty Naughty Naughty! I even took a soapy sudsy shower while my dearest Husband watched like a peeping tom!

Phone Sex was never this good.

Thanks Skype!

Retro Caning

2010-01-02T06:44:00.003-05:00

Here is the very first video to be posted on sublime. I choose it because of its retro style. It is an absolutely beautiful piece of film work if you ask me. I don't know why she needs to be naked for this punishment but she is gorgeous and her nudity adds to her vulnerability. There are moments of pure endurance in this clip. You can see her struggle to maintain the position--a struggle all of us submissives recognize in ourselves and can appreciate the self discipline this young lady demonstrates. Enjoy and please let me know what you think. By the way there are rumors from my Master that you my dear readers may as of yet see a film clip of me getting spanked...keep your fingers crossed and send some pleading messages my way. They may help our case.

Love n' stuff,

naughtybutcute

Earning Stripes or Vanilla We Are Not

2009-10-02T00:25:00.004-04:00

So you all haven’t heard from me in a long while. My Darling and I tried a brief foray into vanilladom. For about a year we tried sharing power. We tried keeping the naughtiness to the bedroom. It did not work and it almost destroyed our marriage. The tenuous balance our relationship was built on was shot to shit. We didn’t know if we were going or coming. If you can imagine two ships’ captains fighting over the wheel of a ship (or like to two toddlers with a toy) so the ship only manages to move in endless circles. That is a perfect description of our life without the power exchange. At first I was excited because I realized I had the new-found power to put my own foot down and nothing would happen. He tried to be tolerant, and doting…but it if you have ever heard the saying “give an inch…” you can imagine what happened. I pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed until something snapped.

We had the second biggest argument of our marriage. We both said horrible things to each other. In the end He gave me the ultimatum, either I was with Him in the structure upon which we had designed our marriage or we go our separate ways. At first I was infuriated; why should I have to give up so much in our arrangement? I tried to negotiate for more power. I didn’t want to leave him, but I knew I couldn’t go on like this. I had to serve jury duty the day after the fight so I had plenty of time to sit around and think and journal. It took me about three hours to realize what I had known all along. We designed the rules of the power exchange ourselves, we built this marriage up to suit the very unique personalities of each of us. It turned out when He turned a blind eye to my behaviors, when we tried to live like vanilla couples, subconsciously I lost respect for my Man. I treated Him differently. I realized I didn’t want power in the relationship, I didn’t want to steer the damn ship. I just wanted to make sure I could trust him to do it well.

In all honesty our attempts at DD over the years have been far from perfect. When we first started we were both in 100%. Then for a while my Darling was concerned by the feelings the power He had came out in him, He wondered if He would be able to be fair and authoritative without becoming a dictator. He backed off. When He backed off I ran amuck. First I did everything I wasn’t allowed to do before. Then that got old and I realized many of the things I was forbidden to do made sense for the safety or sanity of our relationship. Then I got scared. I felt like our ship was set adrift, I felt like we had no direction. So I attempted to take the wheel. Suddenly Papi was there full force threatening the dreaded belt. But laughed at Him. You don’t spank me anymore. You’re all threats and no action. And He would back off. And I steered the ship. But the anger was festering in both of us.

It turned out we needed to renew our vows and hone the requirements of our roles a little deeper. We decided that He shouldn’t have to micromanage, so now I have three simple rules: Obedience, Respect and Safety. Any time any of these are broken I will be punished. We decided that if we were going to continue He would have to be consistent. The same rules and the same consequences apply all the time. I asked for one small concession that with each decision, each time He decided to assert His authority if He checks in with himself and makes sure that He is always acting in the best interest of our family...and He agreed.

Then came the fun not so fun part. I got the whipping of my life. It is two days later and I am still sore. He used the leather leash on my bare ass. I lost count of how many strokes, but I can tell it lasted ten minutes or more.. He did it in two waves. He spanked for about ten minutes, then I submitted to Him completely to use my body however He liked, and then He whipped me for another ten minutes. As you can imagine, it was awfully painful. There is nothing quite like a thin leather strap (only about an inch wide) whipping into your bare skin. But I deserved it completely, and it felt good in that satisfying, I’m-being-punished-for-my-misdeeds and after- this-I’ll-be-forgiven sort of way. This is the best part of our relationship, true forgiveness. Punishments expunge the record in our house. They restore harmony. I’m as happy as I could possibly be.

So what is the lesson here? This kind of relationship requires 100% from both members otherwise it fails to work. Also my Man and I need this type of relationship. Vanilla we are not.

The Little Threesome That Could

2009-03-20T22:14:00.004-04:00

Well everyone, I knew you were all waiting to hear when it would finally happen--and it has!

My Husband and I have had a Ménage à trois. It was totally spontaneous--well at least for me. New years eve we had a mutual friend who is a girl over for dinner. Apparently while I was gone over Christmas break visiting my parents, my Husband spent some time with her. She prefers the female persuasion but after a bad break up she was happy to have a shoulder to cry on and apparently was ready for some adventure. My Husband did some casual flirting and even took her on a date. Just so you ladies don't go up in flames--we have an agreement--we can sleep with other people but only if we share. So He had my blessing to warm the waters in preparation for our first poly experience. He found out over the course of their friendship that the girl had always had thing for me. Goody Goody Gum drops. So with the help of a few glasses of wine and a cozy couch the girl and I started to flirt. I put my arm around her. She ran her fingers through my hair. We snuggled. Hubby encouraged all this...mostly watching from a distance while he cleaned up dinner. She kissed me. It had been a long time since I had kissed a girl (I'll have to tell you those stories some time...remind me later) and I was surprised at how soft her lips were. Apparently I kiss to hard and hungrily (blame it on my own personal brute..I say, when He is impaling me with his cock or spanking the hell out of me I can't help but kiss Him like I am drowning) So the power shifted into her hands. I was a little intimidated. Although I had fantasized about going "all the way" with a girl and had come close one very inebriated evening...I never had. We gently kissed on the sofa. She ran her hands up my thigh, along my chest and over my breast. We let our nipples brush one another under our blouses. Finally my Husband came into the living room and ordered us into the shower. I had to obey (It felt comfortable to obey. I was nervous and the familiarity of my status as submissive comforted me.) To my surprise she obeyed too. He then proceeded to undress us right there in the hallway in front of each other--one article of clothing at a time. I was pretty buzzed right then and the feeling of being slowly undressed, and exposed to a person other than my Husband was exhilarating. The two of us girls moved into the bathroom now down to our panties. I spent a long time gazing at the girl's breasts. They were larger than mine with dark brown areolas and sweet ripe red nipples. I sucked one gently the way I had longed to do with a girlfriend in high school. It was all so forbidden and taboo. My upbringing argued as a small persistent devil in the back of my brain but through it all was my calm, collected and authoritative Master Husband. The girl touched me in the bathroom in a way that it felt like I had never been touched before. Her hands caressing all over my skin over one breast, gently pinching a nipple. My Husband is of course tender with me at times but in all His manliness He is gruff even when He does not intend to be. This of course was different. It was the antitheist of gruff. It felt like feathers or silk--so light-so foreign. My Man took a while before He joined us in the bathroom. He wanted us to learn each other’s bodies. He came and the water was running but we were not in it, so He spanked us both lightly and told us to get in. But first He bent me over the sink and gave me several good strikes with the palm of His hand. I think He wanted to remind me even though I had entered wonderland--He was still in charge. Again I was comforted and the juices started flowing if you know what I mean. All three of us got into our shower--which is by no means large--this took a bit of adjusting. First my Husband I washed her. We washed her hair and her body slowly with sweet smelling shampoo and soap. Even now I remember the scent of sunflowers and cucumber and hot water over skin. Then they washed me. Well my Husband did the actually washing--I was pinned against the wall as the girl stroked first my breasts. She circled her fingers over my nipples and then allowed one hand to escape and meander down my body to in-between my legs. She found the nodule of flesh and began to manipulate with her skilled fingers. The plastic wall of the shower was cold against my back and hot water streamed down all around us. The steam was thick. My hair was tangled in my Husbands hands as He washed it and I rode the girls fingers to a toe-tingling orgasm that lingered on my skin for several minutes. Next I found myself on my knees with my Husband's manhood in my mouth. I pleasured Him while He in turn pleasured the girl with His thick able fingers. He has pleasured me in this way many times so I knew how she felt and the sound of her moaning excited me to wrap my lips hard around my Husband and to shove Him deep inside my mouth until He touched the back of my throat and I had to come up for air. He lifted me by the hair--pushed me belly first against the back wall of the shower. It was extremely cold to the touch because it was the only wall that the water had not poured on. He spanked me several times. Let's go to the bedroom He said. We went all three of us into the bedroom. The girl whispered something in my Darling's ear and in response He went to the closet to get our hand cuffs. He pushed the girl down on the center of the bed so that she was lying on her back and aptly snapped them on. He handed me the belt from a robe and commanded me to "make sure she's tied up good" I tied the belt around the chain connecting the two cuffs and around the headboard. I tied the belt tightly so she could move away from the headboard but with enough slack that if we wanted to flip her over we could. I received a kiss on the cheek for doing a good job and then was ordered to give the girl kisses. If you are a reader of this blog you already know that "kisses" is our code word for oral sex. This was an extreme moment for me. I had kissed girls, sucked their tits and even touched their neither lips but I had never put my mouth down there. I knew this was the pinnacle of sexual pleasure that a woman could provide another woman. I was terribly nervous and self conscious but a firm look from my Husband and an encouraging word from the girl and I was off. I spread back the labia and tentatively stuck out my tongue as if I was reaching for a snowflake. I was terrified that she wouldn't taste good. Now I am the type of girl to jump into a cold pool just to get it all over with at once rather than to slowly get in the water inch by inch so I dove in. The taste was surprisingly bland. I had been told by past lovers that I tasted citrusy--this was not the case for our girl. But bland I could do--and what kind of pleasure slave would I be if I weren't willing to give my Mistress of the moment the best of my talents. So I submitted to my task. Lapping up at the nodule of flesh. I could feel her torso jerk when I hit the right note. I could hear her moans and sighs. The auditory indications enticed me, invigorated me. My Husband kissed her and sucked at her breasts giving me encouraging spanks every now and then. I could feel her rising to my pleasure. It gave me a strange sense of power that I had never experienced giving oral sex before. Was I truly the mistress in this instance and she the slave...I'll never know because in that moment she began to find her orgasm. I slightly slipped my hand down to the spot at the edge of the bed between the mattress and frame where I keep my rabbit vibrator. I wanted her to explode. I switched it on and placed strategically removed my tongue and put the rapidly shaking ears of the rabbit over her clit. She screamed in delight. I held in place until her body jumped as paroxysms of pleasure washed over her. My Husband was invigorated by this scene and pulled me away only to put me on all fours and plunged Himself inside me. The girl reached with eager lips and caught hold of my nipples and started to suck. Mas dolor I said speaking Spanish a language all three of us spoke and one that I often used in lovemaking because I felt small and helpless with my childlike handle of sentence formation. Mas dolor--More pain--she complied sucking my nipple so hard I thought it would burst in her mouth. The pain as it always does heightened the sensation of pleasure I was already experiencing from the vehement thrusting of My husband's cock. Now I was screaming. The orgasm I experienced in complete harmony with my Husband's rocked my frame and nearly knocked me over with its strength. Oh what a night!

I am happy to report that although we have engaged in sex with another person besides each other nothing has changed between us. Our intimacy is just as explosive- if not more so because of the shared memory of this night. Our friendship with the girl hasn't changed much either except that every now and then there is a moment of awkwardness. We have never mentioned the experience or even alluded to it. There was some unspoken agreement to do so and it suits us just fine.

As for future adventures of this sort. I am open to them, although I think I would rather try a new lover than have a repeat with the girl. I am interested in exploring the limits of dominance and submission. I would like to have a truly dominant woman come into our bedroom--one that would make me quake with fear and pain and share humiliating observations of me with my Husband. I also fantasize about my Husband having a little harem of submissive girls like myself all vying to please him better and ever the loser subject to his whip--perhaps I might lose intentionally....

I am glad to have had this experience no matter what it leads to in the future. If I ever had any doubts about our devotion to each other as a couple. They are gone. I still feel the instant prick of jealously when I see him sizing up other women when we are out in public, but I know that no matter who we choose to bring into our bedroom...I am the one he chooses to keep always...others will come and go.

Links Back Up

2008-10-22T22:06:00.002-04:00

Well thank you all you technical people at blog spot!!!! It seems the links are working again!!!

Yeah!!!

You may now resume regular navigation of Sublime.

Special note for any webookers who may have wondered to the site:

Welcome,

I'm glad you are here and I hope that by visiting you will gain a greater understanding of the philosophy behind the ID project.

If your curious about my qualifications as an erotic writer I encourage you to check out my novel in progress The Second Slap also the fantasy section may be of interest to you.

Please make yourselves at home and feel free to comment here or message me on webook if you have any questions.

Broken Links

2008-09-21T13:03:00.004-04:00

Hey all,

There seems to be some trouble with the links of older posts. I apologize for the inconvenience. I am doing everything I can think of to fix this problem. In the mean I have added an archive function at the bottom right side of the page. Once you pick a post that you want to see, check each month to find it. It is a slow and tedious way of finding posts and you can all virtually spank me for the annoyance of it. I promise to fix this as soon as I can figure out how to.

-Naughtbuttcute

Public Punishment Fantasy

2008-09-20T01:25:00.017-04:00

It's all dark until the blindfold is removed from my eyes. I am in a vast room. I can feel the breeze that passes through the rafters. There is the low murmur of subdued chatter and as my eyes adjust to the dark I realize that I am an on some kind of stage--and I am not alone.

All eyes are on me. Through the black masks they can see me shiver. They have on long black coats but I am wearing only a thin summer dress yellow with tiny white lace straps. I am barefoot. We are in a large warehouse. The ceiling is miles above us. There is a metal beam across the ceiling and behind the bleachers where the cloaked folk sit there are exposed brick walls.

My Master comes out. He is wearing a mask but I know its Him because I can smell Him. I see His lips under the mask and I recognize him. He has a shining pair of scissors in his hands. My wrists are fastened with leather cuffs. The metal rings attached to the cuffs are clipped together by a carabiner which is in turn clipped to a chain hanging from the ceiling. I feel the cold metal of the scissor leg on my thigh and hear each leg clink against the other. I hear a snip and the fabric on the hem of my dress begins to tear. He cuts up the side of my dress where the fabric is taught against my skin. Starting at the hem, level with my knees, in a straight line towards my waist. I can feel the two halves of my dress parting ways. I can feel the cool air from the air conditioner ducts on my skin now exposed. Upon reaching the level of my navel He jeers His cut to the right in a jagged tattered line that bares little resemblance to the slow deliberate cutting of before. The yellow fabric frays. The cut ambles in a diagonal over my hip under my belly and then turns sharply and begins one again on its now determined accent. The scissors traverse directly between my breasts. The fabric is very tight against my skin here and the bottom leg of the scissor is obliged to dig the tiniest bit into the tender flesh as it cuts. Reaching the neckline of my dress, it falls away into two yellow piles at my feet. The air is extremely cool around me. I am especially aware of its influence on my nipples which have become round and hard of their own accord. I wonder if it is really the cold that has made them thus or mere anticipation. The crowd sighs a collective sigh at seeing the dress at my feet. All of a sudden I remember their eyes. This is extremely important to me because although we have played similar games in our bedroom...this is not our bedroom. All I am left wearing is a simple white bra and panties. I again feel the scissors on my skin. This time on my chest bone--on the tiny triangle of cartilage that connects the two halves of the ribs. The scissors are as cold as ice. I do not let them affect me by moaning or pulling away. I decide to make my Master proud by enduring all that happens with grace and submission. Instead I lift my hips tuck my tail in and present my breasts to him. The holly-wood squeeze, albeit armless. The scissors cut up in one surprisingly quick snap and detach the bridge of fabric connecting one bra cup to the other. Est voila my breasts are completely exposed, my nipples most obviously tweeked. The bra slides uselessly aside and the snipping of the straps is a mere formality. I am already half naked. Already feeling every tiny currant of air from the air conditioner. All these people are watching everything. I can't see their face because of the masks so I don't know how they are reacting. There are at least a dozen, perhaps more. There are a few women among them. I can hear them discussing me,

"The tits are nicely rounded"

"An ah look at the way the nipples hardened at being exposed, just wait 'till he whips her, they'll nearly pop"

"Her hips are a little on the wide side, most accommodating, don't you think?

Their voices carried easily in the large room. My Master kisses me on my cheek. "Always like to be the center of attention, do you? Everyone is going to see everything I do you tonight...everything." He says using a stage whisper. I whimper slightly, I can't help it. As my eyes adjust to the bright spot light and the dark of the surrounding room I notice my Master's large black duffle bag on the floor only a few feet from where we stand. Heaven knows what He has brought, although I think I have an inkling.

The scissors now are very busy indeed. I feel them on my inner thigh, just at the hem of my panties. I shake against my bonds, not meaning to, but instinctually trying to grab and hold the last vestige of clothing keeping me decent. Of course this attempt is futile and my panties float softly to the floor on top of my discarded dress. I am completely naked. I have never felt more naked in my life. My Master kicks aside the crumpled remains of my clothing. They disappear in the dark. He kneels down next to the black duffle bag and rummages a bit. He finds and item or perhaps two items. I can't tell. I can only see the bag out of the corner of my eye, and my Master has His back turned to me, and thus blocks my veiw of what he is holding. All of a sudden a feel a cold wet finger between my ass cheeks. He massaging lubrication into my anus. Not here, not now I think, and involuntarily clench my cheeks around his hand. He smacks me hard on the ass and I relent. Telling myself submit...what choice do you have? This is going to happen no matter what you want, better to give in so you don't get whipped badly. Then I almost laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of my thoughts...of course I am going to be whipped badly. He warned me I would be getting the worse punishment I had ever had at some point last week after our last disagreement where in my anger I had actually uttered the phrase "Well fuck you then"....oh God was I in for it!

The cold of the lubrication is quickly replaced by the colder small glass anal plug as he fits it in place. Of course my cheeks clenched again, but this time I was following protocol (how else was the plug supposed to stay in?). A light hand spanking ensues. "If" He says between smacks "You drop that anal plug...you will get the cane at the end of your punishment" There were several snickers in the audience and I clench as tightly as is possible. This action as all spankees knows causes you skin to tighten and increase the levity of pain caused by the slaps.

The hand spanking continues until my ass had attained the proper shade. He alternates between cheeks and for the most part spanks lightly. Every now and then He inserts one of the hard close fingered smacks that send me reeling forward in my restraints. When my ass has started to glow with heat He again kneels by the black bag. Ordinarily in these proceedings I am not bound and thus would take the opportunity to rub my posterior. But in the present circumstances this was not possible and I had to settle with shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Suddenly I hear the thud of wood against skin and know (although I can't see) that He is testing the weight of His favorite wooden spatula against the skin of His palm. My body recognizes the sound and cringes accordingly.

Before I knew it the spatula is contacting with not only my ass but my thighs inner and outer as well. It is a deep and resounding thud. The pain is sharp and unrelenting. The speed of the blows baffles me. I hardly have time to breath between them. I bitterly screech in pain. It is like one of those old westerns where the bad guy shoots at some one's feet as says "dance maggot' I am jumping from one leg to the other kicking backwards, swaying from side to side. All sense of grace and submission gone.

The crowd looks on admiringly. Some comment on my movement and the ever reddening shade of my backside. Then He puts aside the spatula and I can hear the tell-tale swoop of leather being pulled through belt loops. For drama's sake he folds the belt in half and snaps it on itself for the crowd. They clap and cheer. I wither. Throughout this ordeal the anal plug has driven into my insides, with some of my movements it has beat against the orgasmic muscles back there and caused little shoots of pleasure to course through me, thoroughly confusing the shoots of pain consistently on my behind. But I manage to keep it in, Even when the hardest slaps rain down and make me loose all control elsewhere but now He is bring the dreaded cinturón into the equation. I am terrified. I whimper. I want to beg for Him to stop, but I know that will shame my Master and only make it worse for me. The leather whooshes through the air and then impacts against my already sore skin. It is fire when it hits. I can feel the welts forming. I squeal terrificly.

"This my dear is only the first of 25 strokes. One for each year of your life. Because by 25 you should know how to respect your Master. If you will oblige me ladies and gentlemen, would you please count along with me as I administer the strokes" There is a murmur of assent from the crowd and then accompanied with each stinging bite into my flesh is a dozen or more voices chanting the number. By stroke five I am crying. Tears pour down my cheeks. The pain is horrendous and it doesn't stop. He covers every inch of my pour ass, concentrating especially on the sit spots. Finally the inevitable happens. Stroke number 10 hits and I loose what little control I have left, my cheeks unclench and the anal plug falls to the floor with what seems like an echoing bang. The crowd admonishes my error tsking and ooing. My Master picks up the disregarded plug and puts it in the bag. He pulls out the cane.

"You know what that means, mijita..now I will have to use the cane" Before I can cry or beg mercy he places the long rattan cane in my mouth and bids me to hold it between my teeth.

I submit and take the next ten of my strokes biting hard into the wood. The crowd complains they can't hear me scream though, so He removes it and sets it on the floor. The last five strokes I oblige them by screaming my heart out. How will I ever bare the cane? By this point I am exhausted from writhing under the blows. My wrists are sore but I hardly notice them due to the fire on my ass. It burns and already I can feel bruises setting under my skin. My Master steps out of the light for a second and when he returns he is pulling an odd piece of furniture. It is a waist high rectangle of wood. The top is padded with leather. Someone off stage presses a button and I can feel the resistance on the chain holding my wrists slackening. My Master gently guides me so that I am bending over the piece of furniture. As I lay down I can see that it is as long as the upper half of my body and even has a padded leather pillow to rest my head on. My wrists are unclipped from the chain briefly so that the end of the chain can be run through a metal ring affixed to the far side of the rectangle, somewhere under my head. My wrists are re-clipped and again a button is pressed off stage until the chain is taut and I am stuck in the forward bend position. My Master steps behind me. He lightly rubs my sore posterior. The touch causes shots of pain. He uses the end of the cane to spread my legs out wide. He does a few test strikes. The cane whistles through the air. My skin trembles in anticipation. "I think five strokes will do the trick. This time I want you to count" My throat is sore from all my screaming but I manage to respond. "Yes Sir." My voice is shaky. I have never been caned before. I have heard that is the most painful of all the spanking implements. My ass is already killing me. Just five more strokes, I tell myself. He sets the end of the can across my ass in order to line up for the strike, then He pulls back and thwak, the cane hits me. I can feel it digging into my skin. The pain is nearly indescribable. It almost feels as if I was being cut. I whale. I cry and when I am able, I say "One, thank you Sir".

The audience is impressed by my composure under fire, they cheer. "Good job, naughty girl" "Only a few more to go". Again the can taps a spot on my ass and the spot tingles knowing it's next. The cane whistles through the air and then strikes. I again whale and moan also. I am crying hard. My nose is running. God how I want it to end. I am no longer aware of being watched. I am aware of nothing but the pain. I swallow hard and say "Two, thank you Sir" and then resume weeping, dreading the next blow. But they come regardless of my despair. One after the other and after each I name the number and thank my Master. Finally the last stroke, the hardest of them all falls. I have completely fallen apart. My wrists are unclipped and I crumple to the floor. After a few seconds pause instead of my customary kneeling request for forgiveness. I prostrate myself "The King and I" style on the floor in front of my Master. I kiss his shoes and weep. The crowd cheers and applauds. My Master raises me up by my chin until I am standing and kisses me passionately. As I am being led off the stage I can see another naughty girl blindfolded and being led onto the stage. My master takes me to the bleachers. A seat awaits him and cushion on the floor by his feet for me. As the next naughty girl is clipped to the hanging chain, I fall asleep with my head in my Master's lap.

Realizations

2008-05-16T23:57:00.005-04:00

It's funny how you forget how much a pinche* spanking hurts when you haven't had one for a while. It had been months since my last belt whipping--until last night that is. When the time came I was all sass. I practically dared him to do it! How stupid could I get? It was outright disobedience. He wanted me to go to bed. I thought I was entitled to stay up as late as I wanted...funny how you forget your place every now and again.

Damn it hurt! Still hurts in fact. Hurt so much all day today that I had to take some aspirin. There is a giant rectangular black and blue bruise all along one cheek and across the crack and half of the other cheek. When will I learn?! I had to kneel when He spanked me. Apparently this is His new favorite position. Humbling and utilitarian all in one go. His aim has improved since last time. The bruise is centered exactly across my sit spot.

I hated Him all night last night and a good part of the day today, then sitting on my sore ass in my office chair I realized How much I love him. How much I need this even though it absolutely sucks when it happens. Of course He was right to do what he did. I am so lucky to have Him. I am so lucky He keeps me. I am so lucky He is a real man who knows what to do with a bratty woman like me.

I realized that even as I was hating Him last night. Plotting revenge while struggling to sleep on my belly, waking every time I rolled over in my sleep right on to my sore parts, crying my eyes out from the pain, humiliation and "unfairness" of it all. I realized I loved Him completely and He unlike any other man I ever came contact with (including my father) knows exactly what I need and isn't afraid to give it to me.

I called Him all kinds of names in my journal this morning on my way to work, but not a sentence of it was true. He is my hero. I respect, love and honor Him deeply. And that folks is the pinche truth.

*Pinche: Spanish slang for "fucking"
I have added it to my vocabulary of late.

TGIPF (Thank God It's Pinche Friday)

-Naughtybuttcute

Things I do to be His good little subbie

2008-05-10T23:42:00.002-04:00

There are way too many things I do to make sure my Darling is always happy but here are a few.

Keep a clean house and do the thousand of menial tasks that keep our home a sanctuary.
Bring Him things...fetch such and such...good girl
Always put three ice cubes in His glass.
Respond "Yes sir, Yes Papi, Yes baby" when He asks me something or tells me to do something.
Do my best to anticipate His needs and then provide whatever is necessary or wanted.
Look at Him with loving admiration even if I'm not feeling particularly worshipful.
Serve Him His dinner in the same way His mother served Him (warm tortillas every couple of minutes, salsa, crema etc.)
Make sure He is always comfortable, well fed and happy.
Serve Him sexually whenever, wherever and however he wants it.
Compliment Him and do small things to support His self esteem.
Show my gratefulness.
Look feminine and desirable as much as possible.
Sleep naked (just in case).
Kegel exercises.
Yoga.
Do my best to stay still for a whipping.
Respect His space and time (i.e. don't nag Him when He wants to go out with the guys or just have some alone time watching a game) In fact you'll really please Him if you serve Him drinks and food while He watches the game...tough stuff for females wanting attention, but pays off in the end.
Accept His decisions.
Never raise my voice in anger.
Defer to Him whenever possible and practical.
Ask Him for money instead of taking it myself. (I have full access to our money, He just enjoys giving it to me).
Ask permission for things (even if I know beforehand the answer will be yes).
Do His laundry.
Let Him pay for things when we go out.
Do all this in public as well as private! (This too is challenging but also worthwhile).
Give Him the bigger portion, the better piece etc. (I eat well folks, it just gives me pleasure to do this).
Call Him to check in when I'm out, when I'm on my way home, or arrive at my destination.

Well that's all I can think of for now. Maybe I'll put more up later. He does not demand these things of me well maybe numbers 4, 9, 16, and 19, but for the most part I choose to do these things to show my love, devotion and gratefulness. It is hard work to run the show, to be the judge, jury and executioner, to hold me accountable for my actions. I figure the least I can do is make sure his life runs as smoothly as possible.

By the way. The experiment was a success! I was spanked to orgasm. It was a small one, mind you. It was over quickly, but I definitely came. It was from a simple hand spanking that started as a soft massage of my derriere but slowly elevated. I did not have any addition stimulation. I think with practice it could become more intense and long lasting. I have found that during intense sex when there is both pain and pleasure alternated at random (for instance rubbing of my clit one moment then whipping me with the leather leash handle the next, I find that my senses become confused and the pleasure feels painful and the painful feel pleasurable until its all this one general very intense sensation. I imagine some day I will come from a very intense and edge-pushing spanking, I fantasize about it being in public with me attached to some kind of whipping post and a crowd of onlookers. We'll see. regardless I promise to share with my readers whatever tortuous pleasures I endure.

Kneeling vs Spanking

2008-04-25T01:25:00.004-04:00

VS.

Which is worse?

This is an ongoing debate in my mind. It seems whenever I am made to kneel I think it is the worse punishment ever (especially when its 30 minutes or more). But when I am on the receiving end of The Belt (shudder) I think that is the worse punishment ever.

Kneeling: Kills my back, thighs, and of course knees. The pain is more wide spread than a spanking. Also kneeling is, all things considered, self inflicted. Of course I am ordered to kneel and the looming threat of worse punishment exists if I dare move an inch but pain is being caused to me and He doesn't lift a finger. This is probably why he loves this form of punishment so much. My whole body aches and cramps up when it is time to get up. It leaves telltale red bumpy splotches on my knees. Sometimes the pain cause nausea. For the most part I know when it will end. I am usually sentenced to a certain increment of time. The worst is when He doesn't tell me how long and I have to wait not knowing! Heaven forbid I deign to ask him if or when I can get up!

Spanking: (Especially bad one with the belt or wooden spatula) sting like hell are extremely intense. The pain tends to linger. First in the form of a warm sensation also itchy painful welts, then later bruises that ache when there is the slightest touch. My throat may also be sore from screaming. I never know when a spanking is going to end--Never! It lasts as long as he thinks it needs to last. Always too long in my opinion. Although it does (for the most part) last less time than kneeling. You could argue that a spanking is better because it is done and over with rather quickly while kneeling could last an hour or more!

So perhaps the question is short-lived intense pain better or worse than long term pain that slowly gathers intensity. I just can't decide.

Perhaps Sublime's readers can shed some light on this debate.

Domestic Discipline--Our Way

2008-04-08T01:29:00.005-04:00

Our version of Domestic Discipline: For all of you kinksters out there who may wonder what the heck it must like to get spanked as a result of a real misdemeanor or for those who have wondered about what this kind of structure might look like, here is a glimpse into our life.

Although I find myself occasionally on the receiving end of my Husband’s belt for naughtiness, I must make perfectly clear I am not in the need of constant discipline. I am not a child. I am an independent woman of the world with my own ideas aspirations and goals. I have a career. I am outspoken and opinionated and take on many leadership roles in the outside world.

What makes us different is in our household there exists a hierarchy. He is in charge. I am not. I am held accountable for my actions. I am expected to show complete and total respect and obedience to my Husband. I volunteered to do this, mind you.

My Husband does not micro-manage my life He does not control every detail of my existence. I decide what I wear, when I go to bed, what I eat but He has the power to override any of my decisions if He feels it would be to my benefit or the benefit to our lives together.

We have agreed on certain guidelines and expectations that must be followed and have consequences if they are not. We may set a goal and discipline may be used to keep me on track.

Here is a pie chart to demonstrate reasons why I am punished.

Here are some examples:

Disrespect and Sassiness

1) Talking back or disrespectful remarks
2) Not answering when asked a direct question (usually because the answer would incriminate me *wink*)
3) Attempting to walk out of the room during a disagreement (I say attempt for a reason…)
4) Raising my voice during a disagreement
5) Being caught in a lie of omission (also trying to save my ass)
6) Disrespectful facial expressions/ body language

Goal Failures

1) Sleeping late one times too many
2) Not taking needed medicine
3) Putting myself in dangerous situations (eg. Not charging my cell phone or not calling when staying out late)
4) Not completing a specific order to His satisfaction.
5) Making a bad decision that affects our household (not paying a bill on time, neglecting household duties…etc.)

I only get a serious whipping every other month or so. Minor attitude adjustments happen every couple weeks usually in the form of kneeling (yuck!). It’s not like I am spanked every day or even every week just when (like I said) I need a reminder of who’s boss.

I hope this sheds some light on what DD means to us.

Cuffed

2008-03-22T03:00:00.004-04:00

I love bondage. Nothing frees my mind and puts me into my sub-space like being tied up and tortured by my Darling. Unfortunately as much as my Darling loves seeing me bound and helpless, He wishes there was an easy button for bondage. I think I may have found the answer; lovely locking leather wrist and ankle cuffs that He can snap into place. I am so excited by the thought of it all. I mean look at that subbie and tell me she's not tickled pink...

The red cuffs on her are the ones I am coveting. I've got my fingers, wrists and ankles crossed that my darling Husband will get them for me. Imagine all the fun we'll have!

So still no results to our experiment. So far no orgasm from spanking alone. We keep starting the experiment only to find ourselves In flagrante delicto....shall we say...

I guess there is just something about a well spanked bottom that leaves my Darling with no choice but to take me there and then.

I was inches away from having to kneel in Target the other day...in front of dozens of evening shoppers. I cannot stomach how mortifying that would have been. My sass is always getting me into trouble! I don't even remember what I said only that He had to put his firmly on my shoulder look me in the eye (Oh God you all know that look) and warn me. After that it was yes sir, no sir, if it pleases you sir for the rest of the night.

I did have to kneel two nights ago though. I took the dog out for a walk and didn't take my cell phone. He was furious. When I came back He almost slapped me in the face, then restrained himself and ordered me to the corner instead. I had to kneel on the hard kitchen floor! But guess what I seem to have no problem remembering my cell phone when I take the dog out. Funny how that works.

I must apologize to you all for my hiatus. I started a new job ( not that any of you want to hear about that) and it took a while for me to find free time to write again. I hope my lovely readers will forgive me. I will accept whatever punishment you all deem appropriate. I await your sentence on bended knee (hopefully wearing my brand new cuffs! )

Images credited to one of my favorite online BDSM suppliers: JTs Stockroom

Orgasm from Spanking Alone?

2008-03-08T20:33:00.008-05:00

Is this even possible? I've heard all kinds of stories about women who can orgasm from having their nipples sucked, their ears nibbled and yes from being spanked...but are they true? Up until recently I believed that you need some type of sexual stimulation in addition to the nipple sucking or spanking to bring you all the way to orgasm. You need sexual organs to come to climax, right? My Husband surmises that I could come solely from a spanking. I do love being spanked during sex. It often pushes me over the edge and heightens the pleasurable sensations. Recently He bent me over the sink in the bathroom and spanked me hard with a ping-pong paddle (By the way I have to revise my rating on that particular implement...it turns out that it can pack a mean wallop if the spanker intends it to). Anyway He spanked me while simultaneously rubbing my clit. I came so hard I'm still shaking. He says that women make love with their entire bodies...that their entire bodies are sex organs, so why shouldn't they be able to orgasm from a type of stimulation outside of their erogenous zones?

Well although I am definitely willing to experiment I wanted to see what other women had to say and whether there was any scientific evidence to back this claim.

Well I found a sub who claimed her master did bring her to orgasm through spanking on A Taste of the Birch. There is also a full description of how one can do it, according to him. Click on the link for the blog. He suggests a slow hand spanking that builds up over time and is intervened with massage and caressing...sure sounds yummy but will it bring you all the way?

Finally some science; apparently there is a scientific study going about the power of brain in sex. Their researchers got women off without touching them all---they showed them pictures. Here's a quote from Rutgers psychology professor Barry Komisaruk and Rutgers University professor emeritus Beverly Whipple (who helped popularize the "G-spot" in the '70s) authors of the new book book called The Science of Orgasm from Exploring the Mind-Body Orgasm an article on Wired.com.

"Komisaruk: Orgasms have been described as being elicitable from any part of the body -- the mouth, the nipples, the anus, the hand. It leads us to think that there is a general orgasmic principle of building up excitation from different parts of the body leading to a climax and a resolution -- not necessarily ending in ejaculation, but a feeling of an orgasmic experience.

Whipple: We have documented in our laboratory that women can have orgasms from imagery alone without touching their body. The point is that women can experience orgasms and sexual pleasure from many forms of stimuli. It does have not have to be through genital stimulation."

So perhaps the brain is the most powerful sex organ of all! I could believe that. I mean what we are we doing with all our power exchange play and blending pain/pleasure ratio if not mindfucking? The article goes on to describe how people without the use of their sexual organs due to injury and or illness have been able to experience orgasmic sensation through skin stimulation of the neck and other areas. This is pretty promising information for our hypothesis.

What about pain though, can people orgasm from pain? Okay I have not found any evidence that pain alone can give a person an orgasm. I found many articles about using pain to enhance the pleasure of sex but only as a supplement to traditional stimulation…but we S & M aficionados know all about that.

So if you have received an orgasm from spanking alone please respond to this article and let us all know about it.

In the mean time we’ll run an experiment. I need three to four subs can convince their Doms to try this out and think that it might be a possible for them to come from spanking alone. My Man is pretty sure it can be done so I will be a guinea pig as well. Let’s limit it to the ladies for this first experiment.

The rules: The only stimulation can be spanking. Any implement can be used for the spanking. I think it would probably be ok for our Doms to rub and caress our asses between spanks but for the sake of science I think that they should probably limit themselves to our asses. Perhaps we should try various positions to see if that has any effect. When you write up your results please try to be as detailed as possible. Do we have to be completely in our sub-spaces for this occur? I would imagine so. Please tell whether or not you were able to attain an orgasm, how intense it was, how long it lasted and how it compares to orgasms you get by other means.

Alright, who’s going to volunteer?

How Far is too Far? The Second Slap IV

2008-03-04T01:33:00.000-05:00

Is there even such a thing? In a regular BDSM encounter there is the epitaph "Safe, sane and consensual" Whatever happens during a scene is negotiated and agreed on before the scene happens, and nothing outside of what was agreed upon can occur. Also there is a safeword to bail you out if things get too intense (or the negotiated boundaries are crossed) but what about 24/7 relationships, such as DD and Master/slave? We have given up our right to negotiate, given up our right to a safe word for the most part. What if the boundaries are crossed in this situation? Is the submissive ass out? My darling is a level headed man. I have entrusted him with the leadership in our relationship and he takes that responsibility seriously. He is for the most part fair and logical in his discipline. But sometimes he may do something out of anger that just doesn't make sense and pushes my tolerance as his subordinate too far. Sometimes it seams that he isn't aware of his own strength, or what is an appropriate punishment and what isn't...but then this is coming from the submissive! I've given up my right to decide what's appropriate and not. Of course I will bring it up in respectful conversation as is our procedure. But he has full veto power, and I may be denied. But then again, that is the life I've chosen for myself. There is chapter in my novel called "too far" where Paco whips Suzy so hard with his belt that he draws blood. After this there is a certain reconciliation where Paco tries to figure out whether has truly gone too far, but to his surprise Suzy accepts it. Here's an excerpt:

Her ass was already raw and looked like uncooked meat in spots and blistery sunburn in all the others. But I wanted her to break. I wanted to see her fall flat on my feet completely broken. As I pressed my hand into her back and held her from jumping up, I knew I never wanted to ask if dinner was ready again. I didn’t even hear her screeching after a while. When I woke up from rage. I was holding the belt and Suzy was bleeding in spots but she wasn’t straight over the table anymore, her knees had bent and she landed slumped across the wood.

Tears where coming down her cheeks. She gripped the edge of the table. Her knuckles should have been white because she was holding the table so tightly but instead they were spotted with red marks from when she tried to protect her self. I dropped the belt. The buckle clinked against the wood floor. One time I made Suzy kneel on the hardwood floor for an hour. By 50 minutes her knees where raw and she was clutching her stomach and begging to be let up. That was the first time I saw her completely broken. Laying across the table, broken was an appropriate word for how she looked. Her hair had come loose from the knot she had twisted it in. It was stuck to the sides of her sweaty cheeks. The blisters I had raised on the skin of her ass had popped and pus and tiny pin pricks of blood dripped down her ass. The whole surface of her ass was purplish red. Her knees had given in and she had literally bent in two like a pocket knife over the table.

“Is it over”, she asked. She was out of breath, done screaming. “That was the worst I’ve ever gotten”, she said.

“It’s done”. She slowly lifted herself off the table and made her way to the bathroom. We had a full length mirror on the back of the door. Suzy likes to see her self after she’s spanked. I sat down at the table. I couldn’t believe what I had done to her. Holy fuck I heard her say in the bathroom Holly fuck. I put my head down in the corner of my arm. At this angle I could see the belt still lying on the floor where I had left it. My hand was sore from gripping the leather. Suzy came back out to the dining room. “I’m sorry” we both said at the same time. Suzy shrugged. “I broke the rule, I shouldn’t have disobeyed a direct order. I love you I promise to do better”. I went too far I said. You look like…I couldn’t finish my sentence. I’ll live Suzy said. Suzy wanted to rub her ass more than any thing, I could see that. Normally as soon as I was done spanking her she’d rub the pain out the best she could. “It hurts she’d say”. “Good” I’d say, “It’s suppose to”. “Too far” I said. “I’m going to go lie down” Suzy said, then quickly corrected her self. “May I lie down?”

"Yes."I said. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her I loved her, and I’d never hurt her again. But I’d only be lying if I said it.

For them the solution was simple. Only Paco could decide whether he had gone too far. It was up to Suzy to submit. I guess that's the least I can do. Talk about topping from the bottom--Being a submissive is hard.

Sometimes a Girl Doesn't Want to Cuddle

2007-11-25T02:02:00.000-05:00

And Now finally our Grand Prize Winner Bound Beauty's Sometimes a Girl Doesn't Want to Cuddle.

This story about a young couple's redemption through untraditional sexual exploration exemplifies the creativity and naughtiness this contest hoped to invite. I hope you enjoy it it as much as I did. Congratulations to Bound Beauty for a wonderfully crafted erotic tale!

Sometimes a Girl Doesn't Want to Cuddle

By Bound Beauty

Tyson bounded up the concrete path, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder and a tail of his button up shirt hanging back in the breeze. A white piece of paper hung out of the bag and brushed against the side pocket of his jeans, an acceptance letter for a scholarship. His heart was going as fast as a rabbit’s and he took the steps of the brown and rusty brick dormitory two by two, leaving the greens of the campus and the tall buildings holding legacies behind him.

He climbed the steps that way, passing through the wiffs of spilled alcohol, air freshener and aftershave. The rubber soles of the sneakers stuck to round amber residue upon the steps and made his feet pop from every step. Not far were beer cans, but Tyson clenched the railing and pulled himself up, taking air for a moment then landing down for another take off. Finally, after four more flights of this, he reached the top floor of his girlfriend, Cassy’s, dorm. He picked up speed when he slammed through the door and started charging down the hall. People moved out of the way, flattening themselves against the wall. One girl fresh from the bathroom the floor shared, hair wet and hanging around her shoulders, almost dropped her towel, crying, “Watch it!”

Some women, seeing that he was coming towards them slowing down, smiled at him, viewing a guy with nicely trimmed hair and a put together outfit. “’Scuse me ladies,” he cried and slid along the opposite wall till he reached the third door on the left after them. Tyson waited to knock on the door, just trying to get his breathing under control. His not too thin lips curled up into a smile that was becoming more and more permanent. He placed one hand against the beige marked up wall, under the plaque reading “625” and stopped when he heard moaning. The smile wilted from his cheeks and dropped down his square jaw as worry set into lines around his blue eyes.

The moans emitted from the slit under the door were accompanied by a slamming of something against the wall, and Tyson’s mind went to the worst. Was she hurt? Was she being attacked? Was she trapped under something? Each scenario left an imprint upon him his thoughts and he tried opening the door, turning the knob till it jammed up. Still, these were old locks, he knew, and with a little more pressure, he could get the thing open if need be.

This qualified as one of those times, so he leaned forward on his right leg and leaned the paired shoulder up against the door, giving it a few quick hits before it budged and flew open. The wooden door flung backward and hit the wall. Tyson’s bag swung in front of him, and he moved it to the side of his hip as he took a curious step in. When he passed the closet, a Johnny Depp poster tapped there, he peered around the corner with a hand over the curve of his bag.

A man’s head was bent forward as he tried to get into his jeans, balancing on one leg and hopping around. Cassy was bent over the side of the bed closest to the wall partially covered with her spiraled pink, purple and green sheets as well as a curtain of straight auburn hair. He saw the side of her bared breasts when she raised up and looked at him. “What the fuck?” was all Tyson could get out. He heard a thud beside him and he looked down to see his messanger bag now upon the floor, the bright white letter and its news at the back of this thoughts.

“Cassy, what the fuck?” he cried again.

The man stopped dressing, his jeans open to reveal a triangle of dark hair matching the hanging bangs on his head. “Look, man,” he began to plead.

“Was I talking to you?” He glared at the man with the beginnings of a pot belly and graying temples. “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded. The man froze under Tyson’s gaze and he wished he had never spoken up at all.

“Listen, this pretty much is what it looks like but,” he stopped short as Tyson hunched his shoulders and took a towering step closer to his half a foot smaller frame. “I am a teacher’s assistant, Mr. Henderson!” he cried and backed into a “Rent” poster, one you would see at the movie theatre. It had been a present from Tyson that past summer, something Tyson had seen a cinema start to rip down for trash before he suggested taking it off their hands.

He kept approaching the man, making sure to ignore Cassy who was trying hastily to snap on a bra with fumbling hands at the corner of his vision. “What you like to screw around with students? Is that it?” He slammed the wall hard enough for the neighbors to hear. Though his voice had been raised, on the middle of that Friday afternoon, half the dorm had already gone home. “Is that it?” his voice rose another couple of notches, till it drew a crowd at the door, including his two admirers from before and the girl who had showered though she now had on a robe.

“Listen, kid, I didn’t mean to cause no trouble. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” the TA explained. Tyson kept his fist beside the man’s head and turned only his head to pierce Cassy with his gaze.

“You didn’t tell him?” his arm dropped pulling off a piece of tape holding the corner of the poster, and he took a step toward her. Mr. Henderson, the teacher’s assistant grabbed his shirt and his briefcase, and then swiftly walked past the metal frame of the bed with a red faced and sweaty Cassy upon to, past the spectators and down the hall. The crowd moved into the hallway and stood watching as Cassy went white under her boyfriend’s gaze. “Am I such a bad boyfriend that you needed to get someone else to satisfy you? Or is it that you just are that whorish? Are you that much of a bitch in heat that you would just spread your legs for any other man?” Some girls in the crowd gasped in shock at his words while some guys snickered and nodded their heads. Tyson’s snapped up to growl at them, “Get the fuck away from here!” His words were heeded. Everyone left the hall and even the doorway. Someone even closed the door.

He slowly, achingly slow, turned his attention back to Cassy. She hid behind her hair and the sheets once more though a bare thigh could be seen from a shorter edge of the sheet.

“JUST FUCKING TELL ME!” he screamed, then whipped his hand forward and pulled on the sheets, pulling her forward, closer to him just before her body was revealed red and clammy in her pink panties that matched her bra.

“Please, Tyson,” she begged him, though for nothing in particular. She couldn’t find the words. She had been caught in the teacher’s lounge hunting up some new meat, meat she wasn’t allowed to paw due to a gold and small sapphire ring Tyson had given her for their third anniversary.

He raised his hand as he saw her twist that ring as a nervous gesture against her chest. Right before he let his palm snap down to catch her cheek in a hard blow, he dug his nails into his palm and closed his eyes to her petite waist and lean muscular limbs. Instead, his hand came down, causing her to turn and hide behind raised forearms, only to hit the worn mattress of the bed. “Wasn’t I good enough?” he asked again, giving her a gaze as dark as an ocean at dusk, complete with the rippling tides. That look told her that his heart was breaking, that it had shattered within his chest, into a million shards of glass.

“You little slut!” he screamed. He let the words fly from his mouth for as she was now, almost naked in bed, the man’s imprint still in her pillow, that’s all she was to him. Just another whore around campus.

“How long has this been going on?” He leaned against the desk that also served as her nightstand and tried to keep himself from falling apart. Everything that had been with Cassy seemed to appear as a play to him, an act. Nothing was real anymore. His voice crept to a whisper as he asked again, “How long?”

“Ty, baby, I can explain,” she said softly, and yelped when he fell to his knees before the bed. His forearms rested upon the edge of the bed, but he lurched back as soon as he felt the warmth that still lay there. He clumsily got to his feet and picked up lamp with a rumbling from his throat and threw it into the wall. The plaster caved in and the black cord hung down beside the bed as the metal lamp shade rocked on broken plaster. Cassy shuddered and curled up upon herself, hands over her head and a small scream slipping past her lips.

“What? You can explain your whoring cunt?” Tyson demanded. He waited till she looked up and branded his gaze into hers. Her eyes widened at the level of his anger. He felt a sort of grim satisfaction at her expression.

“No, that’s not what it was.”

“Oh so your 4 o’clock waiting then?” he spitted back.

“Tyson!” Cassy exclaimed in shock, tears streaming to the edges of her eyes. All that came her way hurt to the very core of her, striking a blow with every word, but she knew she deserved it. Truth was this the first time she cheated on someone, but she wasn’t sure if he would believe her. It was hard to look him in the eye so she avoided it angering Tyson more though he took it as a sign of betrayal.

“Look at me, god damn it!” he screamed. Her chin slowly rose inch by inch as her clenched eyes refused to open. “Why did you do it?” It was almost too soft to hear. Her hand came up and stroked a piece of her long bangs, one of her nervous habits. “Stop that, just fucking stop!” he shouted and her hands dropped. This was his Cassy, and he knew her every habit and most of her thoughts. Now it seemed that while she had the same tendencies in situations of stress and pressure such as playing with her hair, these defenses were being used against him like a long blade. Every twirl of her hair tightened an long twisting vine upon his chest, making it harder to breathe in the small dorm room. Every time she avoided his gaze, his air supply was cut off a bit more.

Little by little, as the silence settled around them and lay upon sheet on the gray carpet, Cassy’s explanation formed. Tyson watched her face as she made sense of her thoughts, watched her plump peach lips as she licked them with each false start. He ground his fingers deeper into his palms and closed his eyes as he found himself staring at her lips, her eyes, the reddening cheeks. Finally, his answer came upon shuddering and fearful tides within Cassy. “I don’t know… I just know that I’ve been feeling... a little lost. I didn’t know if you were the one…”

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW? It would have been nice to tell me that instead of wasting my time on you.” The voice had lowered the slightest of volumes though a new conviction accompanied it.

“I wanted to tell you, really, I did. The moment just didn’t come up.” At the end of the sentence, her voice dimmed and her chin ducked against her chest once more, the red curtain falling into place. She began taking layers of red nail polish off her fingers.

Tyson took a deep breath and began pacing before the bed. He couldn’t go far though. The shelves poked into the room a couple of feet and you were forced to walk around it to get to the other side of the room. “You couldn’t tell me before?” Tyson gave her his eyes again, and once more she refused it afraid of what was held in that look.

Before Cassy responded, she swallowed loudly, if that’s possible, and whimpered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean for you to find out.”

“Oh I see. This was your little experiment,” his voice was calmer now, yet she heard the fury brewing again. She tried to push her head into her chest and her sharp chin dug into it more. “So you were going to fuck,” he said this word louder hitting her with it like a punch to the stomach, “and then you were perhaps going to run back to me with whatever that asshole gave you.” He pushed his tongue into the corner of his mouth like he was getting something out of his teeth and nodded his head.

She drew her legs to her chest and murmured, “I wish this had never happened at all.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that? Because it was a bad fuck or because you were caught?” He feigned sympathy and came around the edge of the bed, placing his hand over hers as it clutched her shin, a slight pout on his lips. It straightened as his fingers started to arch and hold her there.

“No, that’s not it, well, not entirely. I mean I didn’t want you finding me but,” Cassy stopped and winced, pulling at his fingers as they dug in.

“God damn it, Cassy,” he growled. He stood up slowly letting his hand fall from her knee, afraid he would inflict more damage than he wished at this time. Instead of wanting to leave her bloody and beaten, he wanted to pull her against his chest and hug her, close his eyes and turn back time, if this was in fact her first time she cheated, or the other option; make it known what a complete slut she was, hurting her more than any physical means. Yet he stopped himself from doing this when he looked down at her with her knees against her chest and rocking. With her eyes closed it was impossible to see what was held in those green jade eyes of hers.

Tyson stood motionless as he demanded an explanation. “Just tell me what the hell went wrong with us. Did I treat you badly?”

She couldn’t find the right words, but she used the ones that came to her mind right away. The phrase swarmed before him like a worker bees ready for their strike. “I am only 19,” she began, “I don’t know what I want but I do know that perhaps it’s more than this lovey dovey thing we have going. As fun as it was in the beginning, now it’s just annoying.” Her chin lifted till along with her eyelids as she stared ahead at her bookshelf. “I need something more. You know when you talk dirty, I like that, and then you cuddle. Sometimes a girl doesn’t want to cuddle, sometimes she just wants to sleep and not feel a sweaty chest of hair against her cheek. I mean, that’s just gross sometimes.”

Tyson stood there speechless. While he was one who had been cheated on, he couldn’t help but feel he let her down at least in some way. He shook himself taking a moment to close his eyes and re-see the situation. His anger reignited as it became clear. “Oh, I see. So instead of telling me all this, you went out and found someone that would treat you like a whore and leave you like one as well.” He took that one step that pressed his knees against the bed frame and grabbed her chin in his hands. Her heart pounded in her chest and another pulse began between her legs as she realized she was getting turned on. Tyson noticed this spark in her eye as well, like a penny at the bottom of a murky fountain.

He aimed to sober that expression with his next words taking it one word at a time. He swept aside a hair and tucked it behind her ear, then whispered his next assault into her ear. “Tell me. Did he pay you before you opened your legs for him?” Cassy tried to pull away from his grasp, her fingers curled around his wrist, while his fingers dug in deeper. A vindictive smile grew from his slight victory.

He slid his grip to her shoulders and pushed her back on to the bed and shoved a hand against her pulsing pussy. The metal frame hit the wall and her wrists were held still under his grasp. Immediately he scowled as he leaned, his lisp beside her ear. He moved both of her wrists to one hand and grabbed a fist full of her hair, craning her neck back and causing a gasp and a flutter of eyes. “If you wanted it rough, I could have given you that, all you had to do was ask.” Tyson loosened his grasp, and slid backward on the bed till he stood beside it again. She remained immobile upon the mattress, heart still playing Riverdance throughout her body.

With one step back, Tyson let her have space. He wanted her, even now and yet, he couldn’t deal with this, couldn’t deal with the lying, the cheating, the outright disregard for him. He couldn’t deal with the fact he could be the second man to fuck her that afternoon.

The emotion in his voice broke, dropping to a line of a soft radiating pain and fury. “You didn’t have to go sleeping around to find it. I’m right here.” Tyson said each syllable, each line carefully, as if to be misinterpreted, though he wished the last part had stayed upon his palate. He soon repaired his vulnerability with one statement. “I am done with you.”

As he turned his back to her, Cassy looked at him, at his wide shoulders and short trimmed hair and heard his broken voice again. “I’m right here” he had said. If that was true then she still meant something to him, and while she couldn’t turn back time, she could try and repair it. She jumped over the bed, hitting her ankle against the curve at the end of the bed but not even noticing it and put a hand against his chest as he hefted the bag up his shoulder.

“Cassy, I warn you, move it right now.”

“No, I won’t move.” Her eyes found his menacing glare, making Cassy rethink her actions for a moment. She visibly shook herself quickly and went back to her plan. “Please let me make it up to you,” she begged. Tyson grabbed her wrist and dragged her away till she hit the wall and closet handle. It hit her in the side and she grimaced grabbing it with one hand. Tyson couldn’t stop himself and lifted a foot to see if she was injured, but before he laid it down he drew it back again.

“I said we are done. If I do decide to call you, which I probably won’t, I will call you, but under no circumstances will you call me, you understand?” She just nodded as she watched him leave and went home to seek some guidance.

After weighing her options, she called into the only person that she could, Lisa of Lisa’s Love Line. She had heard her on before and now, later in that same day, she anxiously picked up the phone and dialed the number. Then, after a couple of rings, she hung up. She heard Lisa voice her disappointment on the radio. “Oh, come on now. Lisa will help you. All you gotta do is call in. No names asked, no names needed. Just tell me your love woes and I will try and help you.”

Cassy held the phone to her chest, cradling it there like she would her white Christmas teddy that played jingle bells with a touch of the paw. With one more breath, she fingers danced across the pad to dial their possible salvation.

“Okay, we got a bite. Line one you are on,” Lisa said. She had a sultry voice that had a playful quality to it, like she could whisper in your ear even as she pinched your stomach lightly. This voice echoed from the receiver and she turned down the volume of her red iHome radio. “Heeellllooo. Caller? You there?” Lisa asked.

“Oh, sorry,” said Cassy, hearing her own voice.

Is my voice deeper on the radio? She wondered, but she pushed it aside when her campus love therapist asked her, “What can I do for you today, honey?” That’s the way she addressed everyone.

“Uh, yeah. I have a problem,” began Cassy.

“Don’t we all,” groaned Lisa.

“A boyfriend problem,” she continued. “I mean well, I hope he is still my boyfriend.”

“Uh-oh. What did you do, hun?” Lisa’s voice lost its sassy edge for a moment and turned into a voice you would find behind you in a salon.

“Okay, so I wasn’t sure about whether he was the one, like you know THE one, so I did a little shopping I guess.”

“I bet it wasn’t just window shopping, huh?”

“Well, its not that I have ever done this before, but there was this one guy this time,” Cassy justified.

“There always is, honey,” said Lisa. “Go on.”

“Ok, so this one guy really caught my eye and well, in a spur of the moment type thing, I brought him back to my room and, well…,” her voice faded out.

“You got a little closer?” asked Lisa.

“Yeah. But that’s the thing. I have my bra off and the guy is above me in bed and we are going at it and all of a sudden there is someone pushing at the door, and, seeing as these doors pretty much suck, it easily busts in, and I can get dressed or the guy can get dressed, my boyfriend is standing before me and I am hunched over the bed looking for my bra while the guy is getting dressed.” The line was silent for a moment, then Lisa came on again, a new serious edge to it than before.

“So let me get this straight, you played around and you were caught. He break up with you right?”

“He never said, just said not to call and if he found a way for me to make this up then he would call me.”

“Baby girl, you have got one hell of a man if he was able to say that.”

“I know. He’s a really good guy and this was a complete mistake, but I can’t just go back and change it all,” Cassy leaned into her hands.

“Listen to me, honey. You listening?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. When he calls, ‘cause I think that he will call you even without a solution, when he calls and if he has a way for you to make it up, I don’t want you immediately agreeing to anything. Consider what’s he’s offering. If its too much then tell him no dice, if it isn’t…, think if you still want him. You understand?” Lisa waited.

“Yeah, I think so,” Cassy murmured.

“Hey, honey, but until then, try distracting yourself. Put your time into work, into class, don’t let yourself get crazy over this. Yeah, its bad, and hun, you ah lucky he even is considering takin’ you back, but don’t go nuts. You still got school and people out there who care for you. Good luck, honey,” Lisa bid her.

“Thanks,” Cassy said before the line was cut off. She reached out and turned off the radio though the numbers still glowed an electric blue haze upon the desk. She sighed and opened up her math book, studying it till she fell asleep with her cheek pressed to imaginary numbers.

The days passed, and Cassy waited for Tyson’s call, waited for her cell phone to ring, to vibrate against her hip. She ignored the teacher’s pleas to turn off the cell phones, and she missed much of what her teachers were saying.

One afternoon, she opened her eyes at about 11 o’clock a.m. still in the daze she had been since the incident. She had reported the wall to maintenance but still no one has come to fix it yet. The lamp now had a new light bulb and her roommate was full of questions she didn’t want to answer, especially since she didn’t talk about her personal life with her. While they recognized one another, they went about as they pleased, her roommate leaving every Thursday afternoon to go home till Sunday. That afternoon, she was enjoying the silence, intent on getting her work done but failing.

When she did get the call, her face was deep into her history book, though she was not absorbing any information held on its pages. “Superior German aircrafts allowed their armies to overrun Western Europe with great speed in 1940, though the allies fought back with men like Rene Fonck,” she read for the hundredth time. The cell phone vibrated against her hip and started playing ACDC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.” The lead singer’s voice rode up and down the scale as she plucked it from her pocket with her thumb and forefinger, all that could fit in as she balanced on her side atop the sheets.

Flipping it open she got and walked toward a window, answering, “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me,” Tyson answered on the other end. His voice cleared up as she got only a couple feet from the grimy glass.

“It’s been two weeks.”

“I know.”

“Have you forgiven me yet?”

“It’s not that simple, Cassy. I can’t just forget that you cheated on me.”

“No, I didn’t mean…, I didn’t think it would be, but you said you would call when you forgave me.”

“No, I said I would call when I found a solution, and I think I have. I admit that even after this I still want you but things will have to be different, and I don’t think you will object.”

“What are you…,” she began to ask but was cut off.

“Shut up and listen. You wanna make this work?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Meet me at my apartment on Saturday; my roommates will all be away and it’s the perfect time to start the training.”

“What training?”

“Shut up and listen. You want me to be a little more dirty right?”

“Well, I mean, maybe more forceful, yeah.”

“That’s what’s going to happen. You are going to come here Saturday at 11:30 a.m. Don’t be late. Don’t wear any underwear but wear that denim skirt, understand?”

“But, Tyson…”

“You want make this work or not? You said you would do anything and this will appeal to both of our needs. You choose. You can trust me. I’m not the one who cheated.”

She was silent for a moment and then sighed. “Okay but I can’t not wear panties, only sluts do that.”

“You finally understand. If you have panties on understand that there will be consequences.” Even as a part of her protested, part of her was turned on. Part of her liked the idea of the velvet seats of her car rubbing her thigh, without any underwear to get in the way of other parts.

“No underwear. Saturday at 11:30 a.m. at my place.”

“Okay, Tyson.” He hung up the phone as she muttered, “Love you,” to a dial tone. It went dead after three quick beeps. As she stared at the phone, Cassy was unsure of what to do. While she wanted to be with him, she was afraid of what he would do to her. Still in all the years she had been with him, he never let her down.

Tyson on the other hand, knew exactly what he was he was going to do. He had everything planed out, and what he didn’t know he looked up on helpful websites. All it took was a Google search. “Introduction to bondage,” he typed in, the keys clicking as his fingers flew over the keys. A list appeared to him and with a click on the first page in the list, he found himself introduced to a silver-gray website with a line of girls on their knees at the left, collared and chained. He read through that entire article looking and noting certain pieces of advice, always looking over his shoulder for his roommates who had a tendency to barge in when they were in desperate need for a lighter, money or whatnot. Whenever he heard the bathroom door open or one of their doors close he’d quickly slid the small arrow across the screen and minimize the window, just in case. His caution was unneeded though for no one really bothered him. Tyson figured they had heard about what had happened though he hadn’t been the one to tell. In this moment, he was thankful for this moment to just breath and plan. If this worked, things wouldn’t be the same but he’d still have his Cassy.

When Saturday arrived, Tyson made sure the place was clean. That meant taking out the garbage, shoving all of his roommate’s clothes in the closet and shutting the door before they fell down again and even vacuuming, well, dust-bustering. It was all finished by the time eleven o’clock a.m. rolled around. He went into his room and gathered the supplies; a thoroughly washed clothesline he had bought at Jewel Osco with the ends dipped in glue so they would not rash the skin, scissors in case he needed to cut the rope, and a pink collar fit for a drooling St. Bernard named Bridget. He took a deep breath and laid upon the plaid navy and sky blue sofa watching nothing much on the TV. The images passed by, the volume low so he could hear a knock when it came, but he never registered the jokes that were made or the dramatic moments that were meant to shock.

The colon between the hours and minutes on the cable box glowed red and he kept looking down, watching those vertical dots blinking at him, almost slowing down time. Resting the remote on the light wooden coffee table with steel legs, he walked into the kitchen and fixed the garbage bag in the large black bin. His feet stuck to the floor and the heel peeled off the linoleum as he took each step. I must relax, he told himself, and once again, took his seat at the end of the couch closet to the door. He crossed his legs and the denim pressed into his knee with the pressure of his other leg.

The time was 11:29 a.m. and still no sign of her. Tyson didn’t go to the window and look out the parking lot. If she saw him, it could ruin everything. He had to appear collected and in charge, not nervous and impatient. Finally he heard the slight plopping of heels upon the carpeted white and blue hallway. The knock came upon the door a moment later, a quick one-two of knuckles rapping upon the wood.

He made himself uncross his legs agonizingly slow, as if each movement was an important and scripted act. He passed from the linoleum to the stripped carpet as he went down the hall to the front door. As he neared he could smell Cassy’s peach fruit body spray, the one she used under and over her clothes. He smiled then shook his head, the smile wilting off his face and a stern gaze darkening his blue eyes to navy. When he unlatched the lock and opened the door, Cassy was greeted with this face. “I’m sorry I’m late. I forgot to-“

Cassy was silenced by Tyson’s raised hand, and he began to see that she wouldn’t need as much training. He knew how to make her submit, and he knew how to push her and when to sense it was too much.

“In,” he said. One word and Cassy moved into the dark hallway. The light had burned out a month before and they hadn’t gotten around to fixing it. Tyson took his time closing the door then moved up behind her. When she turned to look at him, he gave one command, just as before, “Stay.”

Stay, like some sort of dog, Cassy thought. He can’t be thinking to make me into some pet. But in a way, that’s exactly what he intended. She was doing well so far, had on the skirt, strappy heels, a clinging red top, and while she was a minute late, he considered her habit of being late at least a half hour; “fashionably late” she called it. One minutes was good for Cassy. “Lift up your skirt,” Tyson said as he walked around her right side eying her long line of leg.

Cassy paused for a moment, surprised and turned on the balls of her feet to face him. “What? You think I am just going to lift up my skirt right here so you can see if I didn’t wear any panties?”

“Yes,” he replied, then reached out and grabbed a fist full of her hair pulling her neck back at an angle. Though it wasn’t too far back, it still had the authority that Cassy could recognize.

“Okay, okay. Ow, that hurts,” she said, and winced.

“Not as much as it could hurt. Now stop being a cry baby and do it. Remember what you promised me.” He looked down at her as he craned her neck a little more.

“Okay,” she conceded. With two hands she reached down and lifted her skirt up in front. Tyson was pleased to find that not only had she followed his instructions, she was completely bald as well. He smiled and swept a hand across her smooth flesh then withdrew his hand as a wave of shivers made her knees tremble.

A slow smile spread across his face, showing his obvious pleasure at her surprise. “Though I did not ask that of you, I am very pleased that you did,” he remarked, and commented further. “You will not be punished for being late.”

She began to argue against the possibility of a punishment but he silenced her with his raised index finger. Then, he laid his hand out flat before her and offered her his palm. “Trust me,” he stated, and while Cassy wasn’t sure what he had in mind, she did. When she placed her hand in his, he walked her around the sofa, the coffee table and into the middle of the common room till she stood facing the solid navy arm chair, his hand hanging slightly behind him at his side with hers held tightly in it. “Kneel,” he demanded, and she fell to her knees without any argument. She felt the thin carpet slam into her shins but she ignored it, her head hazy and her body not her own. “Good girl. Keep your eyes lowered to the floor.” This she did well until she caught a glimpse of the rope upon the chair. Her chin lifted to take in the sight of his supplies. She opened her mouth and he snatched a hand full of hair again. “You were doing so well.” She heard his voice from behind and while a part of her protested, another accepted this fate.

He plucked a long black scarf from his pocket and stood straddling her legs. Tyson had read about the depravation of sight and how it could arouse a submissive effectively, so he saw no harm in trying it. The long black scarf was lowered into her vision. “I see I have to do this the hard way,” Tyson said, and pulled the scarf tight over her eyes. He tied it back, making sure all her hair was not tied into the knot, and smiled as he looked at her kneeling with her back to him, completely as his will. He stroked his fingers across her shoulders from one side to the other and she shivered, and then adjusted herself on her knees.

He smiled, a high from the control he had over her. Her arms hung at her side, and Tyson decided it was time to break her in. “Stand,” he commanded, and she did. He walked around her and while she couldn’t see, she tilted her head in what she thought was his direction to follow him. Tyson grabbed the rope off the chair and guided her past the kitchen to the last bedroom in the short hallway to in the back. His was the last room. With one tug, she stumbled into the small room and heard the door slam behind her. Tyson laughed as she jumped and turned to face him and the door, then said, “I am your master now. Take off your shirt and bra.” Cassy did so slipping the shirt off and dropping it beside her then doing the same with the bra though her hands came up and covered her chest.

He instantly grabbed her wrists in his thick fingers, and growled in her ear, “You are mine, you are mine from now on and you will never hide yourself from me.” Giving the only response she could, Cassy nodded and waited till he released her then laid her palms flat on her thighs. Tyson smiled, and sat up. “Good, lean forward.” He grabbed a pink collar from the table and tightened it around her neck. He grabbed the ring upon the collar. He ripped off the blind fold and let it fall upon the stack of books on his desk. Cassy straightened up and watched as he pulled her hands before her and tied them together, slipping the rope between her wrists then around both, over and over, just as he had practiced so that there was looping strands holding her individual wrists as well as both of her wrists together. He let them fall before him and grabbed the leash, guiding her upstairs to his bedroom. She walked close behind him, her head down with eyes set upon the rope as if she could break them with her wishful concentration. She tried moving her wrists yet they would not budge. Tyson had known exactly what to do with them.

Tossing her towards the bed, he started to give her instructions while her back was facing him. “Out of the skirt now, and lay on the covers, legs spread.” Cassy obeyed spreading out, feeling a rush as the striped blue and green comforter absorbed her into its cushions. She looked at Tyson as he leaned over and untied her hands. He raised her arms above her head to the metal frame they all had. Cassy’s gaze set upon a Monet print of water lilies then moved to a poster endorsing the band Nickelback.

With a sigh of pleasure, the rope now rebound her, this time to the bed and all she could do was take in the sight of him as he stood tall his hands on his hips beside the bed.

“This is how this is going to happen. From now on, you will listen to me and obey me. You will listen to all I say and not open your mouth except to say, ‘Yes sir.’ You will please me sexually when I say, and if you are in pain or truly uncomfortable with it you will use the safe word, which in this case will be strawberry.” He smiled that smile that told Cassy that her Tyson was still in the man standing before the bed and her fear slipped away. “Listen to me, little girl,” he said, leaning over her, one hand on either side of her waist. “You said you wanted me to be more forceful, well I will. From now on we are dominant and submissive, master and slave, you understand? You will bow to my whims when I demand it and do everything I say. Understand that this does not mean that you will not matter,” he explained further, a hand drifting to her hip and downward.

“You will have a choice that is if it gets too rough, then we will stop. If I do something you refuse to do, we will not do it, just tell me. Pipe up and say, now listen, just like this, say ‘Master, may your slave speak,’ you understand?” He slowly unbuttoned his navy blue shirt and dropped it to the ground. “Now, you will want to know more, but at this moment you are mine and I wish to use you.” He laid his body across hers, his groin pressing into hers as his legs fell into the cavity left by her spread legs. Slowly, he kissed each breast, each nipple, then made his way down her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses. Cassy moaned and closed her eyes. He kept moving as she pulled at her arms and lets out slight moans. Tyson finally stopped his journey when he was kneeling between her legs.

“Now,” he began, leaning over her slit, “you are not allowed to climax, you understand?” His finger roamed the edges of her lips till it slipped in and found her clit. Rubbing it, she strained against the rope upon her joints. “Lie still,” he commanded, and removed his hand to give her a slap on her lower abdomen. Cassy froze and bit her lip, digging her nails into her palms. “You gonna be good now?” Tyson asked.

She nodded, then answered, “Yes sir,” when he delivered another quick stinging blow to her. Though he had only done it twice, it was in the same spot and a red oval was starting to blush there. “Good girl.” Tyson smiled as she bit her lip and struggled to keep herself still. Her hands curled into fists and she tilted her head backward so the sensations weren’t heightened by seeing him upon her. So far she had followed his every command, and as he looked at her bald mound, he decided to raise the challenge. Bending over her, he removed his fingers as a whimper of disappointment escaped her lips. Soon after, not keeping her waiting, he replaced it with the flicking of his tongue, letting his fingers stray downward until they slid into her quickly. He held her down with a palm against her stomach as he did this and smiled against her labia.

He twisted his wrist, keeping his fingers inside her, and drew his tongue across her nub in a thick wet line. He could taste the mango and peach body wash she had used earlier that day in her preparations. “You want more slut?” he asked, reminding her of her position.

“Yes, sir, please give me more,” Cassy replied. Tyson shook his head and withdrew his fingers then slid up till he glared down at her. There was a spark of impatience in his eye. Leaning back he lifted one of her legs up and flipped her onto her stomach, making her wince slightly. He reached before him and grabbed a fistful of her hair again.

“You don’t seem to understand what you are here for. If I want to play with you I will, but you do not beg for your own satisfaction over your master’s.” Cassy’s eyes went wide as his deep, rough voice.

“Yes, sir,” she replied but it was already too late. Removing her hand restraints he had are kneel before him, as he knelt facing her torso. He grabbed her hair with his left hand and pulled it back again, whispering to her.

“Please understand I am doing this for your own good. You wanted me to be more dominant, well I am, and so far you haven’t complained. Understand this thought, I will never hurt you. This… this is discipline. Ass up.” She immediately followed even wagging her bare backside teasing. Though this moment should have been terrifying for her, it wasn’t. She didn’t look back as he raised his hand and let it snap back to her butt cheek, painting it a pink hue. A yelp slipped from her lips from her craned back head and he pulled his hand up again to deliver another blow.

“At this moment, you do not have to count, but you will later. For everyone you miss, you will receive two more in their place.” More blows propelled her forward, and while she never kept track, she was pretty sure they were around the 15th whack. The area was extra sensitive now, and he struck the same spot over and over, sometimes with hard heavy slaps, some not as bad. Cassy kept her eyes closed and rocked upon her whining knees with each blow. She figured, for a moment, that this wasn’t that bad, in fact, the truth was that it wasn’t all that unpleasant of a sensation for her. She could feel a tingling between her legs that grew when he lowered his hand again and again. She bit her lip and tears slid out of the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks even as she started to moan softly.

When Tyson let his hand fall, the aching she could ignore before, now began to travel up and invade her reddening cheek. Exhaustion embarked up her spine and set into her shoulders as well as her legs, then slipped into her blood stream and infected her. She wavered upon her legs. “You will learn, Cassy, you will learn, and then I won’t have to do this anymore.” He delivered five more whacks and looked down at his handy work. Not only was her ass bright red, you could see three or four hand prints fanning across her backside. “Stay,” he demanded in a softer tone with one hand on her back. Cassy moaned this time in growing irritation. “I know. You can lay down in a moment,” Tyson reassured her, rubbing her back.

Reaching over her, he retrieved a tube atop the short bookshelf shoved in the corner beside his bed. He squeezed out a glob of light green tinted white salve on his fingers and applied it to her bruises. Instantly, a chill ran from that spot and settled around it and her cheek numbed. She smiled and stayed where she was even though she just wanted to lie down. Tyson had not told her she could lower herself to the soft covers.

Tyson stared down at his newly trained slave. He had never imagined they would be like this, but as he had looked down on her bright and probably sore ass, he had felt a bit of pride knowing that, not only did she cry out just a couple of times, she didn’t use the safe word either. “Its okay, we are done for now,” Tyson said. She didn’t immediately drop from her knees.

She sat up, wincing and smiled though tears still adorned her cheeks like diamonds upon a beach. He swept a hand across her cheek and pulled back the covers on the twin bed. “In, right now we rest, enjoy ourselves.”

She finally let herself fall, her sore right side in the air while she cuddled to Tyson’s shoulder. He had laid his arm out to provided a warm pillow for her, letting it sit across the bottom of the pillows. When he felt a shiver go through her body, and a breath escape her lips unsteadily, he plucked a gray t-shirt from the bottom of the bed with his foot and told her to sit up. He put it into her hands and watched as she raised her arms and let it fall around her like some petticoat. He smiled as she snuggled close to him again, like he was some precious stuffed animal from her childhood. Cassy giggled and it was that same giggle he knew, high pitched though not squeaky and annoying but cute and endearing. Cassy gazed down at him for a moment and, when she saw him smile down at her, lunged up to curl against his neck. “Sir, you were never pleased.”

“Sh… Not now,” Tyson said and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “Just sleep.”

Getting an Education

2007-11-25T01:46:00.000-05:00

Our Second Place winner is Adrian Hardhand with his story Getting and Education. This story is an erotic roller coaster defying one taboo after another. Enjoy just try not to get too excited....

A small disclaimer: This story is fantasy and not to be confused with reality in any shape or form, so don't get all up in arms if you don't agree with the actions of the characters.

Getting an Education

by Adrian Hardhand

Alison, an exceedingly comely – in fact, a ripely fuckable – 23-year-old blonde, was the newest teacher at the prestigious W— High School for Girls, widely renowned for its academic excellence. Herself a product of the school, she had won a scholarship to read Mathematics at Cambridge, earning a First. Then she took Teacher Training, and was appointed to her old school’s staff.

She soon realized that the current crop of pupils were much more unruly than her own contemporaries. One particular offender was so outrageous that Alison decided only a sound caning would bring her to her senses. So after school she took the girl to the Staff Common Room, told her she was going to get a dozen of the best, and made her remove her skirt and knickers. Alison and her classmates had always submitted quietly to punishment, but this girl made an ungodly fuss, screaming and generally carrying on.

After the sixth stroke the Head, attracted by the commotion, came into the room, sized up the situation, and asked Alison “What’s going on here?” She explained that the girl’s bad behaviour was over the top, so she was dealing with her. “When did I authorise you to use the cane?” the Head enquired. This brought Alison up with a start. During her schooldays she had become accustomed to punishment from all of the teachers, so she automatically assumed that she had the same privilege. “Er, you didn’t, Sir, but I assumed….” she replied. “That was an unwarranted assumption,” he told her crisply. “Now, how many strokes did you say this girl deserved?” “Twelve, Sir,” Alison responded. “And how many has she received so far?” “Six, Sir.” “Very well, I’ll administer the rest,” the Head told her, swiftly completing the girl’s punishment and sending her off with a very sore bottom.

“Now, how shall I deal with you?” he mused, looking at Alison. “For assuming a privilege you have no right to, you shall receive the same punishment. Lower your knickers and bend over.” Alison complied, the Head flipped up her skirt, and soon she felt the wicked sting of the cane with which she had become so familiar during her own schooldays. When she was given permission to rise, she pressed her hands against her punished bottom, wincing as she waited for the worst of the pain to subside.

If she thought the matter was ended, she was mistaken, for the Headmaster held out his hand, telling her, “Remove your knickers.” Still in shock, she did as she was told, handing him the skimpy undergarment. “And now, young lady,” he continued, “you’re coming to my house for the next installment of your punishment.”

‘Next installment,’ she thought, panicking. ‘Surely the caning was punishment enough.’

The Head swept the young woman out of the Staff Common Room, out of the school, and into his car. All too soon for Alison, the car drew up in front of his house. He unlocked the front door, motioning the girl into the house. Leading her into a bedroom, he told her to strip, watching calmly as her embarrassment made her fumble with buttons and zippers. Taking an appreciative look at her shapely, firm, well-developed rump, he told her, “Your bottom was made for severe punishment.” When she was stark naked he ordered her into the bathroom. It contained a curious piece of furniture, a low table some six feet long, one half of its length angled down, the other half parallel to the floor. “Over you go,” the Head ordered her. “No, the other way around,” he continued when she began to lay down with her torso on the flat portion. Soon she was lying face down, with her legs and hips parallel to the floor, and her torso tilted down. Straps around her arms, waist, and legs secured her to his satisfaction. As she waited, the Head filled a large rubber ‘hot-water’ bottle (at least, that’s what she thought it must he) with water.... But as he attached to it a hose ending in a substantial nozzle, and hung the rubber bottle from a hook over the table, she realized that it was for something else entirely...

“Time to clean you out,” the Head declared. “Three quarts should do the job.” She felt a greased nozzle invade her anus, and an improbably large amount of water gushed into her rectum, making her feel unbearably bloated.

The Head withdrew the nozzle, and warned the girl, “I’m going to spank you. Heaven help you if you release as much of a drop of the water,” raining wickedly severe strokes on her wet bottom and thighs with a particularly unpleasant plastic paddle. For Alison, a wet-bottom spanking was a novel and unwelcome punishment, far more painful than its dry-bottom equivalent. Soon she was howling and begging to be let off, but to no avail. The spanking went on and on and on for what seemed like an eternity to the punished girl. Eventually her tormentor released the straps which secured her to the table, instructing her to expel the enema, bathe, and shave her cunt. ‘You have fifteen minutes,” he informed her, “and then you will present yourself for punishment.”

“Punishment,” Alison thought. “Surely that was what she had been undergoing already.”

The fifteen minutes passed all too quickly. Reluctantly the girl opened the bathroom door and found that the bedroom had been transformed into a punishment room. The open door of a closet revealed row upon row of instruments of correction, canes, paddles, hairbrushes, and tawses. Taking her by the arm, the Head led her to a curious piece of furniture. As with the enema table it was thigh-high, some six feet long, and angled in the middle. Above it, attached to the ceiling, was a large mirror. “This is a punishment bench,” he informed her. She was made to lie on the bench, to which her wrists were fastened. Then the Head spread her legs wide, securing them at knee and ankle. Soon the bench began to swivel in the middle, raising her hips and legs until they were parallel to the ground, and angling her torso and head downward. Another mirror faced her, and the Head adjusted its angle so that, when she looked into it, she could see the image of her back, bottom and legs in the mirror above her.

Probing fingers examined her sex, “to make sure you shaved yourself properly,” the Head declared. As the examination went on and on and on, she found herself getting wetter and wetter, gyrating on his probing fingers.

“This is supposed to be punishment, not pleasure,” said the Head, withdrawing his hand.

All too soon a paddle began to rain stinging slaps on her suffering bottom and thighs, a large proportion of them directed to her tenderest flesh between the legs and bottom cheeks. Again, the hapless girl soon found herself howling and begging to be let off. From time to time, the Head paused to make a leisurely examination of her most intimate flesh. And so it went on for what seemed to Alison an interminable time, wicked spanking alternating with fondling, until the Head laid down the paddle and told her, “Now your bottom is sore enough to benefit properly from the cane,” running his hand appreciatively over the punished flesh.

Alison’s heart sank. Her bottom was impossibly sore and felt enormously swollen. The reflection in the mirror revealed it to be beet-red.

He left her side momentarily, returning with a cane which he held in front of her face. “This is called a dragon cane,” he told her, “and it is especially effective for adjusting the attitude of naughty young women.” She looked at the wickedly long, flexible, rattan rod with horror.

He moved to her side, fondled her rump in a leisurely manner, and then she heard a swishing sound as he began to cut the air with the cane. “Prepare yourself for the first dozen,” he instructed her. She felt the cane tap her bottom several times, and then the first stroke bit deeply into the summit of her rump. As the seconds passed, her bottom began to hurt unbearably, and she felt as though she had been branded! Again she felt the tap-tap-tap of the cane on her bottom, followed by the swishing sound, and another unbearably painful stroke. As stroke followed stroke, she found herself howling and screaming, begging for mercy. As a schoolgirl, Alison had been caned many times, but never with anything approaching this severity. Through her pain she heard him say, “That was the first dozen,” and she dissolved in tears. She felt him put his hand on her bottom, and looking in the mirror, she saw that he was tracing with his fingers the livid welts left by the cane.

Then she felt his hand caress her thighs, and he told her: “Your thighs are delightfully shapely, and this is where you’ll get the second dozen.” All too soon she felt the cane tap-tap-tap on her thighs, followed by excruciating pain as it bit deep into her flesh. As the minutes passed, the same agony she felt in her bottom engulfed her thighs as well. The Head’s smile deepened at her sobs and howls as he continued with his task.

He paused again to conduct another leisurely examination of her punished flesh, probing her rectum and sex. Returning to her bottom, he squeezed her deeply marked cheeks hard, adding to the intense pain she felt. “You’ll get the third dozen on your bottom,” he told her, and soon more excruciatingly hard strokes bit into her suffering rump, raising the pain she felt to an even higher level. As he squeezed and fondled her agonized flesh, he told her “You’ll get the fourth dozen on your thighs,” and the agony resumed as he laid six wickedly hard strokes on the tender inner flesh of each thigh. By this time her bottom and thighs hurt unbearably, and the reflection in the mirror showed that the strokes had overlapped, making her flesh an unbroken mass of welts and bruises from waist to knee, with drops of blood where the cane had cut the skin.

She felt the Head’s hand probe the cleft between her arse-cheeks. “This is where you’ll get the fifth dozen, and it will do the most good since your cleft is so sensitive” he told her. Pulling the cheeks apart, he slashed heavy lengthwise strokes on the exposed flesh. If she had thought the earlier strokes unbearable, this was even worse, a whole new explosion of pain. The slashes continued, first on the inner flesh of one cheek, and then on the other, and so horrendously painful was it that she thought she would lose her mind if she didn’t pass out.

And then, at last, it was over. The Head laid down the cane, and showed her a dark blue medicine bottle. “Iodine,” he explained, using cotton-wool to dab the liquid over her arse and thighs – its sting on the lacerated flesh adding to her pain.

He released the straps which secured her to the punishment bench, and helped her to stand, embracing her tightly from the rear, pressing his loins firmly against her punished flesh. He walked her to the bed, helped her, none too gently, to lie down on her belly, and told her to rest. “I’ll be back in a while to fuck you,” he added, turning out the lights.

Gradually the agony of her punished flesh diminished, and after some time the Head returned to the darkened room. She heard the rustle of clothes being removed, and then his naked male form again embraced her from the rear. He slid a hand between her thighs and into her cunt. Despite the dreadful pain, his rudely probing fingers soon made her wet with arousal. He raised her rump high, pushed her head into the sheets, spread her legs, and thrust his penis into her. His brusque manner of taking his pleasure was new to her, for hitherto her ‘boyfriends’ had been gentle, solicitous young men. The Head, on the other hand, simply took his pleasure as he chose. She found herself powerfully aroused, engulfed in a succession of orgasms….

Their bodies separated. As they lay quietly, companiably, she realised that she felt different. Yes, her bottom and thighs were unbearably sore, but her spirit soared. The outrageously harsh punishment had dispelled the cloud of selfishness and egotism which so often engulfed her, and she felt like a good little girl. For the first time, she knew what it was to be soundly fucked….

“How did you…. know about me?” Alison asked the Head.

“Remember the time you were caught smoking?” he replied.

She certainly did remember. It was, in fact, her most erotic memory. In her last term at the school, her Form Mistress caught her smoking, and brought her to the Head for punishment. Then in his early thirties, the Head had just been appointed to the post. Despite his relative youth for such a position, he had impressed the school’s trustees deeply, for he was a well-set-up man of commanding mien, with sterling academic credentials.

In front of her, Form Mistress and Head had discussed her offence and the appropriate punishment. They agreed that a thorough spanking and three dozen strokes of the most severe cane would be appropriate. She was made to remove all her clothes; the Head took her over his knee and administered a wicked paddling, the worst she had received in her eighteen years. Then she had been bent over the punishment trestle, ordered to spread her legs wide – and her bottom and thighs had received a dreadful caning, three dozen slashes with the school’s most severe length of rattan.

Afterwards, she was teary and emotional, begging the Head in a quavering voice “Please hold me.” So he gathered her, naked, on his lap, and held her for a blissful five minutes. It was sheer heaven. But all too soon it came to an end. Gently, he had set her on her feet. Feeling very daring, she had kissed him on the cheek.

“When I held you on my lap,” the Head continued, “I could tell you were aroused.” Yes, Alison thought, but she didn’t realize he had noticed the juices leaking out of her cunt. And she well remembered the impressive bulge in his trousers, which had felt lovely. “I knew then that we would connect sooner or later,” the Head concluded.

Five years had passed since that day. They certainly had connected, big time, Alison thought, just before she drifted off to sleep. From time to time during the night, the Head woke her, and as a newly ‘biddable’ young woman, she pleasured him as he desired, giving him a generously sloppy blowjob.

(Some time later she learned the rest of this story: While she was reading Mathematics at university, the Head had talked frequently to her Tutor, telling him she had the potential to be a gifted teacher – so her Tutor had steered her towards the teaching profession. When she was at the Teacher Training College, the Head contacted the faculty to make sure that the vacancy at her old school was brought to her attention. After her interview, he recommended her to the Trustees, and she was their unanimous choice. So much for leaving the future to chance!)

* * *

When the morning sun awoke her, she quietly left the bed, went to the kitchen, found the tea things, brewed a pot of tea, put it on a tray with cups and saucers, sugar and milk, and equally silently returned to the bedroom. Sitting on the side of the bed, she gently caressed the Head until he awoke. Without comment, he took the teacup from her, drained its contents, and told her to accompany him to the bathroom. He steered her into the shower, and they spent a sensual hour bathing each other.

It was a half-term Saturday morning, and Alison realized that the Head had several days to deal with her as he chose.

As he sat at the kitchen table reading the morning paper, Alison quietly prepared breakfast, carefully leaving the Head his morning privacy and only speaking when necessary. Afterwards, he told her he had things to do in his study. Still feeling virtuous and biddable, she tidied the kitchen and bedroom and washed the underwear, shirt, and socks he had worn the previous day, before enquiring whether there was anything else he needed done. He put his arm around her waist, fondled her bottom and thighs, and told her it was time for her next lesson.

Leading her back to the bedroom, he produced a heavy sweater, and told her to put it on, as well as her socks and shoes. Then he took her to the back door and out into the garden, which was surrounded by a high brick wall. In the chilly morning air, Alison was all too conscious that she was bare from waist to calf. “It’s time you learned to make birches,” he told her, as they approached a corner of the garden where there were the stumps of several trees from which slender wands grew. “These are willows,” he told her, as he began cutting a number of the wands. As he coached her, she made her own selection. Eventually he was satisfied and they carried the cuttings back to the kitchen. Seated at the kitchen table, he produced twine and a sharp knife, demonstrating to her how the wands should be trimmed and bound together. Then he took a bucket, filling it with water to which he added salt and vinegar. “Vinegar brine is the best way to season a birch,” he explained, dunking the birches in the liquid. With a flutter in her belly, Alison realized that she would soon feel these wicked bundles of twigs slash across her bottom and thighs.

And so the day passed, with the Head following his usual routine, Alison quietly at his side, ready to do his bidding – which involved a lot of fondling and fucking. That evening, he turned her over his knee and administered a blistering spanking, which returned her bottom to the intense pain she had experienced the previous day.

* * *

Sunday passed in the same way, until late afternoon, when the Head removed the birches from the bucket, telling Alison it was time for her birching.

In the bathroom, Alison was given another enema and wet-bottom spanking, even more painful than the original, on her extremely sore bottom and thighs. Then she was again strapped to the punishment bench with her legs well separated. The spanking resumed, with the Head alternating his hand and several different paddles. Soon Alison was sobbing uncontrollably, but this only spurred the Head to even harder strokes.

Eventually, when her bottom was unbearably aflame, the spanking stopped. The Head went to the cupboard, and when he came to stand by her head, he showed her a sinister length of thick leather, its end cut into three tails. “This is the heavy Lochgelly tawse,” he told her, “and it will give your flesh an excellent preparation for the birch.”

Alison hardly knew what to think. While she had prepared herself mentally for the birching, she hadn’t anticipated that there would be something extremely painful before it. The Head calmly set about giving her bottom and thighs wicked slashes of the tawse. The pain quickly became excruciating; yet again the punishment seemed to last an eternity.

Eventually the Head pronounced himself satisfied, laid down the tawse, and picked up one of the birches. At the first stroke, Alison’s bottom experienced yet another painful sensation, the bundle of slender wands inflicting their own wicked sting – and as the strokes fell relentlessly, the vinegar brine in which the birch had been stored seeped into the exposed welts which covered her punished flesh, inflicting a whole new dimension of pain.

The Head unbuckled her restraints, put her on the bed on her hands and knees, spread her exquisitely sore arse cheeks with his hands, and unceremoniously buggered her. While his cock felt impossibly large as it invaded her virgin arsehole, she had no choice but to submit – and her complete acceptance pushed her deep into sub-space, which blew her mind! Afterwards, as she surfaced, Alison realized that this was exactly what she needed.

Once again feeling perfectly biddable, a virtuous, good little girl, Alison served the Head perfectly for the remainder of the half-term break.

For the rest of the term, Alison was frequently summoned to the Head’s house, where she received inevitably severe punishment followed by sound fucking. Afterwards, she became accustomed to being told to scrub the kitchen or bathroom floor. What astonished her was her inner response to this treatment, the way every fibre of her being shouted a joyous Yes! as the Head used her.

The Head’s residence was one of a row of spacious detached houses which fronted on a quiet suburban side street. Behind the gardens of these houses there was an access lane, and beyond it, the gardens of a similar row of houses. One evening, the Head took Alison out the back door, through the garden, across the access lane, through the garden of one of the houses in the facing row, and into the house. He led her into an upstairs flat. “This,” he told her, “is your new home.” Alison quickly grasped what he had in mind. He certainly couldn’t have a live-in lover, the school’s trustees wouldn’t stand for it. But a discreet mistress who lived alone – though in reality just moments away from his house – wouldn’t attract attention. With a telephone installed, he would be able to summon her whenever he wanted – just like Bell calling Watson on his newly invention, telling him, “Watson, come here, I want you,” she thought, irrepressibly.

* * *

Her pupils, especially the Senior girls, found Alison much changed. Sizing up the sixth-formers, she singled out those she thought the Head would enjoy, and sent them to him for caning. After all, she told herself, she got dozens of strokes, so there was no reason these sexually mature eighteen-year-olds shouldn’t get a dozen of the best. It would stand them in good stead later.

Once the girls realised that a painful penalty would follow even the smallest infraction, her classes quickly became the best-behaved in the school – not that it saved the girls with sexy bottoms, for she always found a reason to send them to the Head for a caning. “Melissa, dear,” she said sweetly to a petite, disturbingly pretty brunette with a truly amazing rump, “stop dreaming, you really must pay closer attention” sending her to the Head with a punishment note. And she always noticed when a gangling asexual schoolgirl turned into what vulgar youths called “a piece of arse,” finding a reason to dispatch the blossoming lass to the Head’s study for a dose of the senior cane!

* * *

As time passed, the delicious Melissa began to act brattily in class, which earned her yet more visits to the Head’s study. One evening, in bed with the Head, a perplexed Alison described what was happening. “Perhaps she needs frequent punishment, just like you,” he replied.

Alison found herself dwelling on his words in the days which followed. From a quiet unassuming girl, Melissa had turned into a raucous brat, so Alison took her to the Staff Common Room for a private talk. Enumerating her misdeeds, she told Melissa “You seem to do best when you’re punished frequently.” The girl thought for a moment, and nodded her agreement. “How often do you deserve correction?” Alison enquired, “Twice a week? Thrice?” As she said “Thrice?” the girl nodded again. With the frequency settled, Alison continued, “Clearly, the dozen strokes you’ve been getting haven’t improved your behaviour. How many strokes do you deserve? Eighteen? Twenty-four?” Quickly, Melissa replied, “Please Miss, no more than twenty-four.” “With a spanking first, to prepare your bottom for the cane,” Alison decided. “Some girls masturbate after punishment,” she observed, “Do you?” – and was rewarded by a deep blush from the charming offender.

After school on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Alison walked Melissa to the Head’s study. There, she removed the girl’s skirt and knickers. The girl must have had an amazing wardrobe, for she always presented herself in brand-new, sexy undies! Alison took her time with this ritual, to make Melissa’s stripping enjoyable for the Head. Then she led Melissa to the Head’s side, and arranged her over his knee, making sure he had his favourite clothes brush and strap close at hand. A lengthy spanking always ensued, turning Melissa’s arse-cheeks crimson as she squirmed and cried – but her cunt always displayed glistening evidence of her arousal. With this first part of her punishment concluded, Alison arranged the miscreant over the punishment trestle with her legs well separated. And so she would get her twenty-four strokes, the Head changing sides after the first dozen to distribute the wicked slashes evenly. Afterwards Melissa was so visibly aroused that Alison was sure she knew exactly what the girl would do next. When she had left, Alison locked the door and knelt before the Head to relieve him of the hard-on created by this erotic act. Disciplining Melissa aroused him as much as it did the girl, but his erection was discreetly concealed by loose trousers and an academic robe!

This treatment was remarkably successful, and Melissa once again became a perfectly-behaved, delightful pupil. On her last day at school, Alison had a heart-to-heart talk with her, advising her to find a mate who would deal with her strictly. As they parted, Melissa gave Alison a particularly warm hug, and thanked her for her understanding.

And so the months flowed by for Alison and the Headmaster. In school, Alison had a reputation as a warm-hearted yet strict, no-nonsense teacher. Out of school, she devoted herself to satisfying the Head as completely as possible. It was a comfort to be able to admit her shortcomings to him, secure in the knowledge that she would receive the severe punishment she knew she deserved and needed – followed by the relentlessly hard fucking which she had come to value as the fiercest kind of lovemaking.

One evening as they were spooning in bed, the Head observed to Alison, “We seem to be very well suited. If you agree, perhaps we should make our relationship permanent.” “Permanent?” Alison asked. “Yes, marriage,” he replied. “Thank you, Sir,” she said, “I’d like that,” melting into his embrace. Alison’s main reaction to this surprise announcement was relief that she would no longer have to leave their warm bed in the pre-dawn chill to return to her ‘official’ residence!

* * *

One Spring evening, their conversation turned to the coming summer holiday, and how to spend it. Alison had come across a reference to an upmarket country hotel which served as a discreet refuge for couples in a disciplinary relationship. She told the Head of her discovery, and he said he would look into it.

And so it was that they came to this hotel one July morning. They drove into the long entry road of an imposing country estate, pulling up at the front door of what appeared to be a stately home. As they entered the foyer, they noticed that the umbrella stand was liberally stocked with canes, quirts, and paddles rather than umbrellas. A cultured gentleman of distinguished appearance welcomed them, introducing himself as Dennis Urquhart, the proprietor. He told them a little about the establishment. Realising there was a dearth of suitable employment for submissives, he had reorganised the hotel, staffing it only with submissives – who appreciated sound correction from the guests.

Their room was spacious with a high ceiling; French doors opened onto a balcony overlooking rolling parkland. Only one wall betrayed the unique nature of the establishment, for it bore an impressive arrangement of instruments of correction.

It was lunchtime. After freshening up, they descended the grand staircase to the restaurant, where another surprise awaited them: Melissa, flushed with excitement, welcomed them at the door, explained that she had seen their names on the guest list and had asked to be allowed to serve them. As she ushered them to a table the Head and Alison could see that she had flowered remarkably since leaving school, giving the impression of a lusty, naughty imp in a tight black rubber minidress which barely covered her pubes. She seated them and brought menus. Alison called the girl to her side, turned her so that her back was to the Head, put one hand around her waist, and with the other pulled up her skirt. Caressing her unmarked bottom, Alison told her, “Clearly your bottom needs attention. Would you like the Head to deal with you?” Smoothing down her skirt, Melissa excitedly replied “Yes please, Miss.” “After lunch?” Alison enquired of the Head. The meal was memorable for all three of them. Melissa was over the moon to be in the company of the couple who fueled her constant sexual fantasies, while the Head and Alison looked forward with great anticipation to their rendezvous with such a hot new partner.

Afterwards, in their room, Alison stripped before peeling the clothes off the excited girl, giving her a resounding smack on the rump to propel her into the bathroom. While enemas, cunt shaving, and wet-bottom spankings were commonplace to Alison, they were a novelty to young Melissa, and the wet spanking elicited the same anguished howls and tears that were so familiar to the Head’s blonde companion.

After this prelude, the Head brought the girl into the bedroom, secured her to the punishment trestle thoughtfully provided by the management, and began to acquaint himself with her body, paying particular attention to her arse, cunt, and thighs. Soon his playful smacks turned into serious spanking, and Alison passed him one of the nastier paddles, a heavy wooden one, in which several large holes had been drilled. As the Head got into his stride, Alison had the opportunity to witness Melissa getting the treatment she had herself experienced so often, extremely severe spanking alternating with fondling. The Head spanked Melissa to tears and well beyond.

When her bottom and thighs were an angry beet-red, he laid down the paddle, picked up a severe cane, and showed it to Melissa. In a tone of voice which Alison knew well, he told her, “The first dozen will be on your bottom,” caressing her punished flesh. As the girl’s bottom, thighs, and cleft were savaged, it reminded Alison of her own initiation. Eventually, the Head released Melissa from her restraints, and placed her face down on the bed. Alison told the girl, “Rest until the Head is ready to fuck you.”

Alison presented her arse to the Head, so that he could embrace her, and then began one of the little rituals they enjoyed so much: She undressed him.

First she took his jacket and hung it in the closet, loosened his tie and opened the top of his shirt. Then she guided him to a chair, knelt before him and removed his shoes and socks, placing sweet lingering kisses on his feet and ankles. Running her hands up the inside of his legs, she allowed herself a brief caress of his crown jewels before loosening the waist band of his trousers, removing his shirt, tie, and vest, and lightly running her nails over his chest and back. And so she came to the part she liked best, unzipping his fly, sliding down his trousers, and caressing his bulging masculinity through his undershorts before removing them. As his penis sprang to life, she took it into her mouth for a sweetly slutty caress.

Looking at Melissa, who hadn’t moved, it was obvious that she was more than ready, for her juices glistened on cunt, arse, and thighs. Their arms around one another, Alison and the Head went to join her. The Head placed himself over the recumbent girl and thrust into her cunt with the same unceremonious abruptness that Alison had become accustomed to. “Lucky girl,” she thought to herself.

And so the afternoon passed, with sweet languor replacing white-hot passion. Eventually, Alison addressed Melissa, “It’s tea-time, dear.” The girl obediently left the bed, tidied her hair, donned her skimpy uniform, and took off for the kitchen. Soon she returned with a tray bearing a delicious repast – a large pot of China tea, lots of little savoury sandwiches containing potted prawns, cucumber, tongue with relish, and wonderful pastries. Seated naked on the carpet, the trio quickly polished off the tray’s contents.

Afterwards, Melissa said to her disciplinarians, “Mr. Dennis told me to show you the facilities,” so they donned clothes and followed the girl downstairs to the basement. She opened a door – and inside the trio saw a well-appointed dungeon, with a cross, a rack, a Japanese-style horse, a Wooden Pony, several trestles, punishment benches, bondage swings, and dangling suspension chains. The instruments of correction arrayed on the wall were equally impressive, a remarkably comprehensive collection of whips, quirts, paddles, canes, tawses and straps.

As Melissa returned to her duties, Alison & the Head decided to enjoy the hotel’s swimming pool. At the Head’s direction, she donned her skimpiest two-piece, which admirably displayed her well-marked bottom and thighs. Other guests lazed beside the pool, enjoying the warm late-afternoon sun, and several had bottoms almost as well-marked as Alison’s.

The pool attendant, a sultry charmer in her late twenties named Laura, wore an equally revealing thong – but her bottom looked remarkably pale beside those of the well-marked guests. A male guest summoned her, and she brought him a quirt, which he used wickedly on the squirming girl beside him – and then, almost as an afterthought, he again called Laura to his side, turned her over his knee, pulled down her thong, and cropped her bottom with equal severity before plunging a hand deep into her cunt as he gave her a passionate kiss. When he released her, Laura retrieved her thong and brought her chastiser a moist cloth to wipe her juices from his hand. “Another girl making a connection for the night ahead,” Alison decided.

Dinner in the elegant dining room was another splendid meal, with Melissa a perfectly attentive waitress. Afterwards, the Head gathered up the two young women, and swept them off to the dungeon. He secured the naked girls over a padded trestle and punished their flesh with a succession of implements, paddles, crops, canes, and whips. To finish up the evening he placed them on a Wooden Pony, relaxing with a large cognac as they squirmed. Eventually, satisfied with their conditioning, he took them upstairs to bed.

The days flowed by pleasantly for the Head, Alison, and their former pupil, a satisfying mix of lazy hours spent at the pool or walking in the grounds, and afternoons and evenings of discipline and sex.

* * *

The food was truly excellent. After a couple of days the Head asked Alison to send his compliments to the chef, asking who this paragon might me. “She’s a Scottish girl named Meg,” Alison replied, “She’ll be pleased to know that she’s giving satisfaction.”

The following morning after breakfast, Alison came into the dining room hand-in-hand with a shapely freckled lass with bright red hair. “This is Meg, sir,” she told the Head, who took the opportunity to tell her how much he was enjoying the food. As Meg blushed deeply at the warm praise, Melissa turned her around and raised her skirt, revealing an unmarked bottom. “Ah, so your bottom needs attention,” the Head remarked. “How about after lunch?”

At the appointed time the girls appeared in the bedroom, quickly peeled off their clothes, and joined the already-naked Alison in front of the Head. “Meg, come here, please,” he said to the girl, taking her snugly over his knee. “What you deserve, my dear,” he said, exploring the bright red curls which adorned her cunt, “is a good-girl spanking for preparing such excellent meals. Settle down,” he told her, “you’ll be here for quite some time.”

As the Head thrashed her bottom, it became apparent that a good-girl spanking differed from the naughty-girl variety in name only. Meg’s pale Scottish flesh coloured dramatically under first his hand, then a paddle – which drew sobs – and a wicked strap, which elicited howls and free-flowing tears from the writhing girl. The Head laid down the strap, fondling her cunt and arse until she wiggled her hips, the sobs replaced by little cries of pleasure. Giving her a final sound smack, he sent her to stand facing a wall while he dealt with Alison and Melissa.

Soon, all three spanked girls stood facing a wall, their bottoms a rainbow of colours, while the Head pondered the next event of the afternoon. Since Meg was a newcomer to their little circle, he decided to begin with her, arranging her over the trestle for a dose of the cane, preparing her for the now familiar words, “You will get the first dozen on your bottom.”

Some time later, when she was impressively wealed from waist to knee, the Head placed her on the bed in his favourite belly-down position, telling her to wait while he dealt with Melissa and Alison. When they were equally marked, the Head shucked off his clothes and gave Meg as sound a screwing as the other two had come to expect of him. After Meg and Melissa had returned to their duties, the Head and Alison spent a languorous hour in close embrace, before heading down to the pool.

* * *

Another morning, Melissa placed a folder on their breakfast table, saying “Mr. Dennis told me to give you this.” Inside, the Head found several photos. The first showed a shapely female arse, well thrashed, stuck with so many pushpins that it resembled a pincushion. Other photos in the series showed the inserted pushpins being struck with a quirt, while the final images showed the quirt smacking the pins out of the girl’s arse. At the conclusion of the meal, Melissa placed a small package on the table, saying, “With Mr. Dennis’ compliments.” It contained several boxes each holding a hundred pushpins, and a small dark bottle containing a strange liquid, labeled Cayenne Tincture. “Mr. Dennis says if the pins are dipped in the tincture before they’re inserted, the experience is much more memorable.” Curious, the Head dipped one of the pins in the liquid, and lightly pricked his finger with it. The pain was shockingly intense, reminding him of the time that he had got raw chilli in his eye. The pins were not particularly sharp, and Melissa explained, “Mr. Dennis says that very sharp pins like acupuncture needles go into the flesh far too easily and painlessly. These pushpins have to be pressed into the flesh, which is much more painful.”

Inspired by this novel approach, the Head decided to put it to use that same evening. After dinner, the Head administered particularly severe punishment to Melissa and Alison. Then he arranged the girls on the bed, Alison face down, and Melissa crosslegged beside her, holding a box of pins and the bottle of cayenne tincture. He told Alison “You will take a pin out of the box, dip it into the tincture, and then present the pin to me, saying: ‘Please Sir, put it in my left cheek, or, Please Sir, put it in my right cheek.’”

As the Head slowly pressed the first pins into the deeply marked magenta flesh of her arse, Alison’s reaction was everything he could have desired. With only three pins in each arse cheek, the girl began howling and begging for mercy, but the Head, implacable, continued the impaling until all hundred pins had been inserted. To make sure she got the full effect, he pressed the pins in slowly. Being blunt, they first indented the flesh before penetrating it – at which point she felt the dreadful burn of the cayenne tincture. Her gasps at the intensity of her punishment soon turned to increasingly anguished cries. From time to time, he brushed his hand lightly over the heads of the pins, flicking them with a fingernail – which drew even more pained yelps from his fair victim.

With all the pins in place, the Head picked up a quirt and cropped them smartly. The added pain was so shocking that it drew screams from the anguished Alison – which only inspired the Head to even more severity. But eventually he was satisfied, and cropped the pins with such force that they were dislodged from the girl’s flesh. Completely spent, she lay supine on the bed, passively receiving the Head’s penis as he rammed his way into her arsehole, where he deposited a massive load of cum. “It will be your turn tomorrow,” the Head told Melissa, who was agog at the intensity of what Alison had suffered.

The following morning it was clear that Alison was far from recovered from this night of excess, and the Head treated her with unusual gentleness. But when they went down to the swimming pool he still required her to display her chastised flesh in a revealing thong. As she lay on her belly by the pool, she attracted a fascinated audience of guests and staff. The Head described in detail what she had undergone, inviting the onlookers to acquaint themselves with her punished flesh.

* * *

Realising that she would face the same treatment in just a few short hours, Melissa became subdued as the day progressed, quite unlike her usual bubbly self.

While the Head had an implicit understanding with Alison that she would submit unquestioningly to all of his demands, he had no such understanding with Melissa, so he was impressed when she gamely presented herself after dinner for ‘correction.’ After the inevitable harsh spanking and caning, the Head placed Melissa on her tummy, restrained her securely, handing a fresh box of pins and the bottle of cayenne tincture to Alison. Placing one hand snugly around Melissa’s cunt, and the other on her back, he reminded the girl that what she was about to undergo would be much more severe than anything she had so far experienced. “Prepare yourself,” he told her, in an unusually gentle tone of voice.

At his direction, Alison dipped the first needle in the tincture and handed it to him. Slowly, he pressed the needle into Melissa’s left arse-cheek, drawing a groan from her. The second needle went, equally slowly, into the other side of her rump. Melissa made surprisingly little sound considering the intensity of what her bottom was undergoing. Before continuing, the Head said to her, “If you choose to do so, you may stop this session right now. If you don’t, it will continue until all the pins are in your bottom. Do you understand? Through clenched teeth, Melissa replied “Yes, Sir.”

And so the Head stuck pin after pin in her bottom. As he had done with Alison, he pressed the pins in very slowly, enjoying the gradual indentation of her flesh and the gasps which followed the puncturing of the skin. So that she got the full effect, he paused from time to time to brush his hand lightly over the pinheads, or flick them with a fingernail, eliciting most satisfactory yelps from the brunette! When all the pins were in place, he began cropping them, his other hand snugly embedded in her cunt. To bring the session to a close he cropped the pins smartly to dislodge them.

Then he picked up his favourite quirt, showed it to her victim, and proceeded to smack the pins smartly – eliciting protests, screams and even more tears. Hitting harder and harder, he dislodged the pins from her flesh, bringing the session to what, for him at least, was a most satisfactory conclusion. Removing her restraints, he caressed her with great gentleness before raising her hips from the bed and thrusting his penis into her cunt. And so the trio drifted into sleep, the girls lying on their bellies to spare their exceptionally sore bottoms.

Melissa walked extremely carefully the following morning as she served breakfast, clearly feeling the effects of this severe treatment. The Head decided to display the girls, telling them to change into thong bikinis and join him at poolside. As they lay belly-down, their bottoms proved magnets for the eyes of all present.

* * *

The sultry pool attendant, Laura, also became one of their intimates. She had an interesting story to tell: During the rest of the year, she worked as a cane tester.

“A cane tester? What’s that?” the Head enquired.

Two years earlier, Laura explained, she had been looking through a bondage magazine when she saw a small advert reading “Wanted, attractive young female cane tester.” Her curiosity piqued, she rang the phone number in the advert. The man who answered, Major Willoughby, told her that he operated an establishment which sold expensive canes to a wealthy clientele, who expected to try out the merchandise before purchasing. For this purpose he employed attractive young females as cane testers. Laura told him she was interested in the position, and she was asked to send a photograph of herself in a two-piece bathing suit. A few days later she was summoned for an interview.

She found the Major’s chambers in a well-to-do part of town. A brass plate by the door bell simply said

Major C.J. Willoughby

By Appointment Only

She rang the bell, a strikingly attractive young woman opened the door and ushered Laura through the sales room – which besides the usual counter contained a trestle and a display case of disciplinary instruments – into the Major’s office.

The Major, a trim fiftyish man, was clad in the uniform of his class – Saville Row suit, Lobb shoes, Turnbull & Asser shirt and socks, gold cufflinks, and regimental tie. After the usual formalities between employer and prospective employee, the Major told Laura that the other girl, whose name was Jane, would be serving a customer very soon, so the best way for her to understand the duties of a cane tester would be to watch from an adjoining room. Here, Laura was shown a television set connected to a discreetly concealed video camera in the sales room.

The door bell rang, Jane admitted the caller, and the Major received him in the sales room. “Thank you for stopping by,” the Major told the client, “as I told you, I received a special consignment which may be suitable for your purpose. He left the room briefly, and returned bearing a long slender box. He took a remarkable implement from it, a cane made of ivory. “Jane, prepare yourself,” the Major told the girl. She removed her dress and shoes – her only garments – and stretched out over the trestle, with legs well separated. The client briefly caressed her unmarked flesh before landing several hard slashes on her rump. “What do you think?” the Major enquired. “I’m really looking for something more severe,” the customer replied. Again the Major left the room, returning with another long box. “This cane is really unusual. It’s made of split bamboo, much like a fly-fishing rod – and the business end is weighted.” The customer picked up the cane, and gave it several experimental swishes before landing a series of strokes on Jane’s arse, each leaving a wickedly livid imprint. Again, the customer told the Major that he was looking for something much more severe, and two more canes were tried on the girl’s bottom before the customer pronounced himself satisfied. Given permission to rise, Jane pressed her hands gingerly to her impressively wealed bottom, then returned the chosen instrument to its box, wrapped it neatly, and handed it to the customer. He asked the Major “Is Jane free for the rest of the afternoon?” and after an enquiring look at the girl, the Major replied, “Certainly.” Jane donned her dress and shoes, picked up the package, and left with the customer.

The Major locked the front door and called Laura into his office. “Now you understand the duties of a cane tester,” he said. “Is this acceptable to you?” “Yes, Sir,” Laura replied. “In that case,” said the Major, “I’ll test your bottom. Off with your clothes.” He arranged her over the trestle, and Laura received a lengthy, savagely intense caning which left her deeply marked from waist to knee. Then she felt his hand on her wet cunt, and very soon she was on a couch, being soundly rogered!

Some time later, the Major told her “You’ve got the job,” naming a very decent salary. He explained how the business worked. Most of his customers were repeat visitors. He accepted new clients by recommendation only. The cane testers were on hand to submit to canings whenever needed, and they also helped with bookkeeping and all the other facets of the business.

A part of the business which the cane testers particularly enjoyed, was the opportunity to interact “personally” with the clients. Jane, he explained, had accompanied her client to The Grange, a discreet upmarket establishment which Laura would soon see for herself.

The girls’ relationship with the clients, the Major continued, was really important. The cane testers weren’t tarts, and his clientele were expected to treat them as favourite nieces – naughty favourite nieces. That meant that after an encounter of pleasurable sex, the customer wouldn’t give the girl money. Instead, if he wanted to give her such a gift, he would tell the Major who would add it to the bill, including the present in the girl’s salary cheque. But the preferred token of appreciation was a piece of jewellery. It should, the Major explained to new customers, be a modest item which wouldn’t arouse the curiosity of the girl’s family or friends. A nearby jeweler had a nice selection of suitable items, which made the transaction simple. And the girls liked gifts of jewellery, because the jeweller was always willing to repurchase items if a girl needed extra cash!

And so Laura became a cane tester. She became familiar with The Grange, which was a rambling mansion set in a large garden. As Laura and her client got out of the car – most drove Bentleys or Mercedes – she retrieved the box containing the customer’s new purchase, and an employee of the establishment drove the car out of sight. Inside, they were shown into a beautifully appointed room with a dining area and a large bed. As Laura stripped and prepared herself, the customer ordered fine wine or Champagne, with a delicious meal to follow later, when they had worked up an appetite – oysters, a lobster salad, a rich dish with truffles, and other delicacies. After a few glasses of Champagne, Laura became accustomed to another wicked caning before being taken to bed for a sound screwing! And she acquired a nice collection of jewellery – bracelets, necklaces, pendants, earrings and the like.

* * *

As the Head and Alison’s month-long stay at the hotel drew to a close, Melissa was tearful at the prospect of once again sleeping alone, deprived of the discipline and intimacy she craved. Since she still lived in the neighbourhood of the school, it was agreed that she would visit the Head and Alison when her summer job came to an end.

A few weeks later, she presented herself at the Head’s house, and the fun and games resumed. Bubbling with excitement, she told her hosts of her newest adventure. She had, she told them, found employment as a sales clerk at a local purveyor of disciplinary equipment. When a male customer examined the establishment’s display of canes, quirts, and other instruments, she would ask whether he would like to try them out, and if he said “Yes,” she would take him into a back room and offer her bottom. If she really fancied the customer, she would first drape herself over his knee, inviting him to spank her soundly, explaining “My bottom is well-seasoned, so a thorough spanking will prepare it for the cane, Sir.” When she felt a nice hard bulge, she would “allow nature to take its course” afterwards.

“Heeere’s a naughty girl,” the Head said with mock-severity, instructing Alison to prepare their newest form of correction – and Melissa realised she was in for another intense experience.

Alison took Melissa into the kitchen, opened a bag of small green chilli peppers, telling her “these are really hot,” and put them in a blender with glycerine. When the contents were pureed, she took a tiny amount on a spoon and put it on Melissa’s tongue. It was incredibly hot, setting her entire mouth afire. “The Head’s going to give you a wet-bottom spanking using a roughened paddle and this puree,” she explained.

Alison placed the jar of chili puree beside the punishment bench, and produced an unusual wooden paddle, one side painted, the other covered with rubber. The painted side was curiously rough. “Sand mixed into the paint,” Alison explained to Melissa. “It’s wicked. The roughened surface scuffs and scratches the skin, so that the chilli stings the abrasions. And the scuffing makes sitting really painful afterwards. I couldn’t sit down for three days after the Head used it on to me.” As she stripped, Melissa prepared herself for what clearly would be an intensely painful experience. When she was positioned on the punishment bench, the Head put a small quantity of the puree on her rump, paddling her with long sideways strokes which scuffed the skin but were not immediately painful – not, that is, until the chilli puree began to seep into the fine scratches in the skin of her arse. The longer the Head spanked her with these sideways strokes, the more excruciating became the fire ignited by the puree. And when the Head turned the paddle over, using the rubber surface to rain hard strokes on her afflicted flesh, she would have gone through the roof if she hadn’t been securely strapped down. From time to time the Head turned the paddle over, alternating long sideways swipes with the roughened side and really hard strokes with the rubber face. This was another extremely long spanking, the chilli-burn compounding the regular sting of the paddle to make it one of the severest punishments she had every received. The puree seeped into her cunt, setting the delicate flesh on fire. For quite some time afterwards she was made to lie on the bench, with a fresh layer of the evil puree on her bottom. Even when she was allowed to rise and wash off the puree in the shower, it took forever for the sting to dissipate – and after it had worn off she realised that the scuffed skin was wickedly sore and sensitive, just as Alison had described. She winced her way to bed, and nothing could have persuaded her to rest her bottom on the sheets, it was so sore. The Head took his pleasure in her cunt, entering her from behind, as was his custom – the extreme soreness of her rump pressed against his groin giving the experience an entirely new dimension for both of them.

* * *

During the night, exchanging confidences with her friends, Melissa explained that she was really happy, except… As the Head and Alison wormed the facts out of her, it was clear it was really important to the girl. She told her story like this:

One day as she was working in the shop, she saw a really dishy young man looking intently through the window, at the canes and whips, and at her… but he seemed reluctant to come inside. So she went to the door, and with a welcoming smile she invited him to come in and look around. She gave him a tour of the displays, describing the instruments and their uses in detail. He seemed fascinated, but overly controlled. But she had the feeling that he fancied her as much as she fancied him. So she asked him whether he would care to try some of the instruments. Not really comprehending what she meant, he said “Yes.” When she offered herself as a subject, he seemed taken aback, and stuttered “Well… I really… couldn’t… inflict… such… pain… on you.” Melissa stood her ground, because she really fancied the young man, and told him that strict punishment was good for her. She took him into the back room and offered herself. The problem, she explained, was that he treated her as though she were made of glass, and gave her only the lightest taps, rather than the fullblooded strokes she needed. And though she tried to persuade him to hit harder, he wouldn’t. She had the feeling that his upbringing as a ‘gentleman’ didn’t allow him to express his real desires.

“Are you sure you’re serious about this young man? Do you really want to resolve this?” the Head enquired. And when Melissa simply said “Yes” to each question, he told her “Very well, bring him to dinner, and we’ll get things straightened out.”

* * *

And so Melissa brought her Charles to meet the Head and Alison. As the evening progressed, the Head found himself approving more and more of the young man. Though only 25, this engaging fellow with a double First in Mathematics and Computer Science had created a modest but thriving software enterprise. The Head sensed that there were full-blooded masculine inclinations beneath his cultured veneer. And Charles was obviously fascinated with the girl, couldn’t keep his eyes off her, in fact – especially the microskirt which barely covered her cunt.

After dinner, with inhibitions loosened by copious quantities of excellent wine, the Head poured snifters of brandy for Charles and himself. “You know,” he told Charles, “Melissa and Alison are special young women. What they value in their lovers is affection combined with severity.” Turning to the young women, he told them to strip. When they had peeled off their clothes, he continued “Melissa, get over Charles’s lap; Alison, come here,” and he took her over his knee. He began to spank Alison soundly. Seeing that Charles was hesitant, he encouraged him to do the same, watching as Charles landed increasingly heavy smacks on Melissa’s bottom. After a while the Head stopping spanking and fondled Alison’s cunt, urging Charles to do the same with Melissa. From an initial hesitance, he soon began to manualise her enthusiastically – which had the desired effect on the girl – and when her juices were flowing, the Head encouraged Charles to resume the spanking with renewed vigour, passing him a heavy paddle. When both girls’ bottoms were beet-red, the men stopped spanking and resumed fondling. Eventually the sobbing girls were set on their feet, their hands pressed to their burning bottoms, juices glistening on cunts and thighs.

“Well done,” the Head congratulated him. “Now it’s time to cane them.”

He ordered Alison over the punishment bench. The men, armed with canes, positioned themselves on opposite sides of the bench. The Head coached Charles in the proper use of the cane. His first strokes were weak and ineffectual, so the Head administered several slashes to demonstrate how it should be done. Gradually Charles got the knack, and Alison had the unfamiliar experience of being caned severely by two men at once.

Melissa replaced Alison on the punishment bench. If Charles had any remnant of gentlemanly compunction about thrashing his girlfriend it certainly wasn’t apparent, for now he wielded the cane with wicked gusto, wealing her flesh impressively.

Charles was clearly as aroused as his girlfriend, so – as he positioned Alison on her hands and knees on the bed and prepared to enter her – the Head told them to use the guest bedroom and enjoy themselves

Some time later, as the four of them lounged around sipping cognac, the Head said to Charles: “Now you understand. These are not ordinary young women. They need to be used hard, and taken. The more complete their lover’s enjoyment of their bodies, the greater is their sense of completion.” At his words, the girls voiced their agreement.

“Alison, on your knees. Pleasure me,” he said. The blonde knelt between his legs, opened his robe, and applied her mouth to his penis. Charles had seen many things during the evening that he had no idea nice girls would do – and this was yet another! Taking his cue from his host, he positioned Melissa between his legs, and enjoyed the enthusiastic way she pleasured him.

Charles and Melissa donned their clothes, and prepared to leave. Melissa embraced the Head closely, thanking him for a truly wonderful evening, while Charles kissed his naked hostess, giving her a wicked smack on the rump.

As they left, Charles heard the Head say to Alison, “Go upstairs and douche your rectum.” It dawned on Charles that he was going to fuck her in the arse. In the car, he said to Melissa, “You’re coming home with me.” “Yes, Charles,” she replied. “Do you have a douche bag?” he enquired. “Not with me,” she said, “but if you can find an all-night pharmacy, I’ll get one.” And so, later that night, Melissa enjoyed taking her lover in her arse.

Within days, an elated Melissa phoned to say that she and Charles were living together; he seemed to thoroughly enjoy giving her the hard discipline and hard fucking she needed!

* * *

Charles and Melissa were frequent visitors to the Head’s house, where Charles quickly became expert in administering enemas and wet-bottom spankings, tawse and birch, pushpins and cayenne tincture, and the dreaded roughened paddle and chili puree.

The young software whiz often had to go out of town on business trips. He asked the Head to “take care” of Melissa during his absences, so the girl again became a frequent visitor. One evening, she brought a surprise with her – Scottish Meg. It transpired that Meg had moved to their town to work as a chef in a smart restaurant. Her hosts were delighted at her presence, for Alison found her innocence and enthusiasm “really sweet,” while the Head found her pale freckled flesh irresistible, it responded so dramatically to his wicked ministrations; he took the deepest pleasure in dealing with her outrageously… and so she too became a frequent visitor. She asked Alison whether she could help in the kitchen, which she soon took over, creating divine meals. It was, she said, “the least she could do considering the wonderful way the Head and Alison treated her.”

Both the Head and Melissa enjoyed the Scottish elf so much that they soon invited her to move in. Her presence proved an asset, for now that the Head was married, he had social obligations, entertaining the school’s trustees and other influential people. Meg prepared such wonderful meals that invitations to these Friday evening events became much sought after. The guests who came to these events between the hours of seven and ten in the evening had no idea of what went on after their departure. Moments after the last guest had departed, and the lights had been turned out on the ground floor, the trio moved upstairs, with the girls stripped, eager and ready for the spankings, canings, and fucking which awaited them.

Short Story Winners!

2007-11-25T00:45:00.000-05:00

A couple months ago I challenged my readers to get creative. You rose to the challenge and now I would like to announce the winners of the first ever Sublime Submission Short Story Contest.

1st Prize: Sometimes a Girl Doesn’t Want to Cuddle by Bound Beauty

2nd Prize: Getting an Education by Adrian Hard Hand

3rd Prize: Last Ditch Marriage Retreat by Rosy Hills

As promised the winning stories will be published in three memorable posts on sublime and our Grand Prize Winner Bound Beauty will be receiving her very own copy of O, The Power of Submission. Thank you all for participating and a special congratulations to our winners!

Now without further ado, our third prize winner Last Ditch Marriage Retreat:

This story was chosen because of its depiction of a loving domestic discipline relationship. Its not quite erotica but expresses a different aspect of a D/s relationship often left out of such stories.

Last Ditch Marriage Retreat

By Rosy Hills

Addy stepped out of the car into the dusty driveway. Her baby pink heels dug into the dust. She felt a rush of heat as she closed the car door behind her and met with hot August air. The instant she stepped onto the drive a mosquito landed on her upper thigh and sunk it’s stinger deep into her skin. This merely intensified her annoyance with the situation. Damian hit the power locks and stepped out of the car. He stretched out the muscles in his shoulders and legs. He rolled his head or around on his shoulder to loosen his stiff neck. It had been a long drive to Upstate Wisconsin from their home in the Chicago Suburbs.

“Well here we are” he said

“In the middle of fucking no where” Addy said. Damien popped the trunk.

“Just wait Addy, this weekend will be worth it” Damien said “We have to give it one last try”

“We…there is no fucking we anymore…this marriage is over…why can’t you just sign the papers—“

“You promised you’d give it a try-“

Damien pulled their suitcases out of the trunk and set them on the drive.

“It is as hot as hell, please tell me this place has air conditioning”

“What do you think this is the plaza? Come on lets just get this over with”

Damien dragged the suitcases with difficulty. “We’re only going to be here for the weekend…what did you put in these things…” Addy didn’t answer. She reached down her thigh and scratched the itch and made her way towards the lodge.

The lodge looked like a log cabin enlarged to the size of a hotel. There was a big wrap around porch. Holly bushes grew on either side of the steps. There were chairs situated along the porch, perfect for listening to nature while sipping a cup of coffee. Damien struggled to pull the bags up the steps while Addy slammed the screen door in his face. Inside the lodge a cool breeze came from some where in the back. All the windows were open and in the back most corner of the main lobby the windows looked out over a lake. The lobby smelled like pine needles. A cheery looking girl in red dress met them at the counter.

“Hi, I’m Betty, Counselor Shawn’s wife” Addy took one look around the lobby and frowned.

“I don’t think these accommodations will be acceptable could you please direct me to the phone book so I can find some place for us stay in the twentieth century…” Betty frowned. “ All the couples in the retreat are staying here, there’s a lake out back, perhaps y’all can take a swim before we get started. The first workshop is after dinner”

Damien managed to get the door open and drag the suitcases inside “ Could you help me out here, darling?”

“Darling…” Addy laughed “what the hell are you trying to pull, getting into the mood of the place…eh? Well…sweetheart, you’ll have to just turn around and bring them back to the car I was just telling Barbara here that these accommodations won’t be suitable.”

“Hello, you must be Betty, I’m Damien” Betty waved from behind the counter.

“ Addy we’ve come all the way here, and there is no way we are turning back…you just do this for me, just this one weekend and if it doesn’t work out, I wont ask for a single thing ever again, I’ll sign the papers and you can go stay in whatever air conditioned place you like, please…just do this”

Addy scratched avidly at the bite.

“Don’t you know if you pick at it, it’ll just make it worse?” Betty said

“Funny, just like our marriage” Addy scoffed. “Fine, Barbara, just show us to our room, I need a lay down…”

“It’s Betty” Betty said, and pointed to the stairs “Your room is on the third floor last one on the right…” and then under her breath but loud enough that Damien heard “That’s not all you need”

Addy stomped upstairs to the room and tapped her heal on the floor waiting for Damien to come up the three flights with the suitcases. “Hurry up sweetheart, My hair is a mess I need my comb…” Damien groaned curses under his breath as he managed to lug the two suitcases onto the second landing. Just then Shawn popped out of the door marked “floor two”

“Hi, I’m counselor Shawn, nice to meet you, looks like you could use a hand…” Shawn took one of the bags and started up the last landing.

“ Thanks, Shawn, I’m Damien. My wife, Addy is upstairs already”

“Hurry up, Dear I need my comb…Do you have the key, Damien?”

“I have it Addy” Damien said. Shawn was a tall lanky bald man. He almost bumped his head on the low doorway when he held it open for Damien and him to pass through on to the third floor.

“I don’t think any of the other couples have arrived yet, but Betty and I are going to go down for a swim before dinner, you should join us…”the suitcase Damien was dragging caught on a bump in the carpet…”sure” he grunted “we’ll see you in a bit. Nice to meet you” They came to the last door where Addy was tapping her heal impatiently and scratching at the itch at the same time.

“Finally” she said. “Took you long enough”

“My wife, Addy” Damien said “ This is Counselor Shawn, he’s Betty’s husband”

“ Why’d you pick some middle of nowhere place like this for a retreat, huh, I thought it was supposed to be relaxing…this is too much like camping for my taste, do you even have hot water?” Addy said

“I trust you’ll find everything you need here at Bended Oak, welcome. I’ll see you by the lake in a few”

Shawn left the suitcase at the door and strode in wide footsteps down the hallway to the stairs. Addy and Damien walked into their room. There was a four-poster bed with a blue and white flowered quilt. A bay of windows with two screened French doors led out onto a balcony. There were two comfy armchairs. A small closet in the corner and a bathroom with a deep old fashioned claw foot tub. In the corner between the windows and the bed was a cherry roll back writing desk and straight-backed chair. The whole room was filled with sunlight filtered in from the oaks and pines that surrounded the resort. The walls were painted in a soft green. The curtains on the windows gently billowed in the breeze coming in off the lake. Damien left the suitcases in the closet and stepped out on to the balcony.

“Hey honey, look at this view” Damien said from the balcony. Addy peeked up from rummaging in the suitcases,

“Got it” she said taking hold of her comb and applying it to her unruly copper colored hair. Give it three seconds in the wind and those curls will tangle into a rats nest” she said tearing at the end of a matted bunch with the comb. “Did you say something…Darling” she laughed sarcastically. Addy walked out onto the balcony and stood beside Damien yanking through the snarls in her hair as she stood. The balcony overlooked a patch of forest on the right and to the left through a thin slice of trees was the beach. Two figures chased each other at the waters edge.

“Hey isn’t that Betty and Shawn?” Damien said. All of a sudden Betty took a handful of the wet mud from right beside the lake and tossed it at Shawn…and the two began shouting at each other. Damien and Addy couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they could tell they were angry. Shawn’s hands were on his hips, and Betty was shouting and while sprinting away from Shawn, she reached down for another handful of mud.

Addy laughed at the spectacle “Ha, and they’re suppose to teach us…look he’s red in the face” Indeed Shawn’s face was starting to resemble a plum. All of a sudden Shawn lanky legs took off and before they knew it Betty was scooped up into his arms kicking and screaming. Shawn sat down at the picnic table and maneuvered the squirming Betty belly down onto his lap, in seconds he had torn her bikini bottoms down to her knees and started to spank her bare bottom with his palm still sandy from the last mud ball which hit his shoulder and dripped down his arm. “Oh my God!” Addy shrieked he’s spanking her! Should we call the cops?”

Damien started laughing uncontrollably… “That would teach her” he though to himself. “No Addy, she’s fine, its not like he’s beating her up or anything, it’s just a spanking. My dad used whip me with his belt on occasion, and I’m still around. Betty will be just fine” And he was right. After a while Shawn stopped spanking Betty and helped her up off his lap. She pulled the bikini bottom back up and sat next to him on the bench. He ran his fingers through her hair and the next thing you know the couple was kissing passionately… Addy looked on in shock, she couldn’t believe what she had seen. Seeing the way they gazed into each other’s eyes, and held each other close when minutes ago they were glaring and shouting at each other. She couldn’t remember the last time Damien and her shared a moment like that…

“Come on, Addy we’ve seen enough, we should give them some privacy” Damien went back into the room and Addy followed pulling her comb through her hair much slower than before.

“Did you see them, Damien? They’re so in love, were we ever like that” she wanted to say but didn’t. Damien rummaged through the suitcases for his swimsuit. The couple changed into their swimsuits and made their way down to the beach.

After the scene they had witnessed from the balcony, the time spent on the beach was pretty tame. The two couples splashed in the water and talked about fairly normal things like how the weather was and how well the Cubs were playing this season.

Around six they all went back up to the lodge. The other couples had arrived. When they entered the lobby five other couples, surrounded by their luggage, bickered among themselves. Some sat facing each other eye to eye and argued in loud whispers “Do you want them to hear our problems…dear” , talking through their teeth while they maintained forced smiles. Other couples wildly gesticulated pointing and waving their arms about to emphasize their points. Only one set of couples wasn’t talking to each other, they stood with their arms folded across their chests lips held firmly together glaring. Shawn had to shout above the din.

“People, People lets get started” He said and Betty walked over to the right and started directing people down the first floor hallway to the room at the end of the hall. The sun was starting to set behind the row of windows, and Betty switched a switch on the wall and the florescent lights buzzed on one at a time across the cavernous room. There were overstuffed arm chairs and sofas arranged in a semi circle around the fireplace at the end of room. If it were winter it would have been lit and all the people sitting in the semi circle could feel the heat, but as it was mid august instead a free standing fan spun franticly against the heat and above them a legion of ceiling fans lazily rotated the hot air from one side of the room to the other. Some one had forgotten to open the window. Upon entering the room the men immediately set out to this task. Kitty-corner to the fireplace was an old fashioned double-sided blackboard. On it in curvy letters was written…S.O.M. and below it written smaller and vertically were the words “save our marriage.” The seating area only took up about a third of the space in the room. The rest of the room was occupied by a very long oak table with benches on either side and two chairs at the head and foot. Below the row of windows was three card tables side by side set with a bountiful meal in sliver pans with little burners under them to keep them hot. The couple grabbed paper plates and plastic cutlery and piled their plates high with potato salad, barbeque chicken and rice. Then they all sat down at the table. For many of the couples sitting on the bench proved to be difficult. The benches were rather narrow and they weren’t very long either so the couples had to squeeze in. Shawn and Betty sat down at the head and foot.

“You maybe wondering why you are sitting on a bench and not at individual chairs…” he waited for the mumbling grumbling and shifting of the reluctant couples had calmed before he continued. “This building used to be a convent and all the furniture here was appropriated for that purpose, however we can use these benches as a metaphor for a better marriage, sometimes we are uncomfortable but we are in it together…” Addy picked around her potato salad with a fork and before Shawn could finish his speech she started complaining again.

“ I think there is an egg shell in my potato salad. I felt it on my gums. Damien do something about it” Addy said.

“I’m sure it was just a hard piece of onion or something” Damien said.

“No it was sharp, I felt it poke me”

“perhaps the cook was having a hard day, it happens to everyone, Addy, forget about it and enjoy your meal”

“We should get our money back, this is inexcusable” Addy said starting to get up to leave.

“Addy, we haven’t even started the classes yet…just relax would you?

“For four hundred a night, we should have prime service, not slop for food and egg shells in the salad”

Shawn stood up, Betty cooked the salad, Addy, is there a problem”

“This whole place is a joke, you can’t teach us about how to solve our marital problems…I saw you arguing on the beach.”

“Why don’t you just give it a try and then at the end of the weekend if you are dissatisfied you can fill out a survey—“

Damien stood up “Come on Addy, your being unreasonable”

“And you, intolerable, its your fault we’re here!” Addy flicked her wrist and the force of the flick caused the spoon to snap and the contents were catapulted across the table. The mashed up wad of potato salad landed in Damien’s lap. Addy huffed out of the room “I’m going to go call my lawyer.

“Boy I’d like to—“ Betty started to say. “Sit down, Betty” Shawn said and Betty did.

“ How about we go to the men’s room and get you cleaned up” he said to Damien.

They exited the room and went across the hall into the door marked with a silhouette of a man’s hat (the woman’s room was marked with a silhouette of a bonnet) “I can’t believe she just did that…she’s acting like such a child!” Damien said as he scooped the mess off his shirt into the garbage.

“Well then maybe you should treat her like a child” Shawn said.

“I’m sorry” Damien said scraping at his shirt with his nails.

“Well excuse me for saying this but your wife is a brat, and there is only one way to deal with brats. Do you still love her?”

“Yeah, I love her, I just miss the beautiful sweet woman I married, she never used to act this way”

“Did you ever think maybe she’s testing you, trying to see how serious you are about her? It may be that she lost faith in you…this could be a cry for attention. And I think you should give her lots of it, just not the kind she’s thinking of”. Shawn went into the closet where they kept the cleaning supplies. “ I’ve got something for you”. There was a stack of off-white shoe boxes in one corner. Shawn took one off the top and handed it to Damien. “I keep them on hand ever since I became a marriage counselor, some couples are in sore need of them” Damien pulled off the top of the box and pushed aside the tissue paper. It was a hairbrush. An old-fashioned wooden hairbrush with a smooth sanded handle, stiff bristles and a flat rounded back. “I think this is just the marital aid you’re looking for” Damien held the brush in his hands. He ran the smooth wood across his hand then closed his fingers firmly around the handle and gave the hairbrush a testing smack against the back of his hand.

“I think your right” he said, “Would you excuse me?”

“By all means” Shawn said.

Upstairs Addy sat on the bed next to her open suitcase. She had started to pack her things back in when she saw something white sticking out of one of the pockets. She reached in and saw it was a photo album. Damien must have put it there. On the first page was a picture of Damien and her five years ago on their honeymoon. They sat side by side on the edge of a cliff with the outlines of purple mountains against the skyline and a seemingly endless blue sky. The couple in the picture stared into each others eyes, and held each others hands. Addy gazed at the picture feeling the build up before tears. As she looked at her and Damien happy and in love she couldn’t get the picture of Betty and Shawn sitting on the bench after the spanking out of her head, if only she could turn back time, she thought. If only…but her thoughts were interrupted when Damien came into the room. She rose to leave.

“Sit down Addy” Damien said, but his voice had changed, it was firmer, and completely in control. She sat down. “Addy don’t say anything, yet, please just listen. I love you to no end, but I am tired of your antics. I have tried everything I can think of, but all your complaining and bickering is ruining what we have, I thought that maybe if we came here this weekend, I might be able to figure out what the hell is going on in that head of yours. Maybe I don’t say it enough, but I love you, and I don’t want a divorce. I want to make it work…” Addy opened her mouth to speak…”shut up Addy, you’ve been doing all the talking, it’s my turn. So I’m going to give you one more chance. We re-enter our marriage under my terms, or we go our separate ways…you get that? Nod if you do…good…” Addy nodded “ So here’s my terms, you saw what happened today on the beach, that’s the way it’s going to be with us from now on, if you don’t like it you can leave, but I have a feeling this isn’t about whether or not the resort has air conditioning, or how fast I put gas in the car, this is much deeper. You don’t trust me to take the lead…I’m going to show you I can and I will.” He picked up the shoe box off the floor and handed it to her. “Open the box and hand me what’s inside” Addy opened the box. Her hands where shaking. She pulled out the brush and her mouth opened into a round

“O” “Oh no” she said holding tightly to the brush.

“Your choice,” said Damien gesturing to her suitcase. Addy stole a glance down on the floor where the album had fallen. It was open on the first picture. She looked at the picture and handed him the brush.

“Come here, Addy” Damien said. Addy took timid steps forward until she stood in front of Damien in the straight-backed chair. Damien gently placed her over his lap, belly down, butt up. He lifted her flowered print skirt up to her waist. He shimmed her panties down to her knees. He rubbed the back of the brush against the white skin of her bottom. On top of him Addy’s whole frame was trembling. She felt the smooth wood against her skin and knew that any moment it would be slapping down hard. The sting of the fist slap shocked her, she tried to get up. Damien pulled one leg out from under her, and put it up over her legs. He smacked her again, and she released a little whelp. He smacked her again and her hand shot up to protect her self. “put your hands flat on the floor or, I’ll make it worse than your already going to get” and she did. He smacked her again and again until her little whimpers became loud and closer together

“Oh Ewe oh ewe ah ouch” and so on Addy said.

“And you (smack) are going to (smack) start acting (smack) like a full grown (smack) woman and not a child (smack)” Damien said.

Shawn and Betty heard her screams from the landing on the stairs. They chuckled together and held hands “I think you saved another marriage, dear” Betty said

After the spanking Addy and Damien cuddled. They lay on their sides with Addy’s back pressed into Damien’s stomach their legs tangled up together like spoons in a drawer. When Addy felt Damien’s arms close firmly around her, tears began to flow down her cheeks. He let her cry as he held her. Addy felt more happy and complete than she had felt in years. He held her until she could cry no more and then gently nudged her, “why don’t you get cleaned up, sweetheart and we can go back downstairs for the workshop.

Addy went into the little bathroom and washed her face and combed her hair. She pulled her panties back up over her throbbing bottom and when she smoothed her skirt heat emanated from the fabric. Damien met her at the door carrying a pillow under his arm; Addy blushed when she saw it.

Later that night a much calmer Addy listened politely perched upon her pillow to Shawn and Betty as they discussed the importance of respect, tolerance and obedience in marriage, and least one couple left that lodge Sunday night changed forever.

Spanking for Pleasure Vs. Punishment

2007-11-24T23:15:00.000-05:00

It seems that the face slapping conversation has been the biggest controversy Sublime has faced yet! I'm glad that my Darling and I have resolved this particular issue. For the record I'm not sure He is perfectly happy with the decision. He and The Dominant One have much in common, but we have decided that the effect isn't worth the risk. We have decided to continue light face slapping in the bedroom provided He is holding my head still and I am given warning so I can brace for it...this is to help His aim not to give me any advantage, mind you.

Thank you everyone for your feedback. It was interesting to see what others thought about this situation.

Here's the next topic of discussion. Is a spanking still a fitting punishment if the sub likes to get spanked and is there a difference between a punishment spanking and spanking for pleasure?
In my humble opinion there are at least three types of spankings. Spanking for pleasure in a sexual sense...spanking for pleasure in a tension relief sense and spanking for punishment.

Spanking for erotic pleasure: It does two things for me, get me in a submissive mind frame which allows me to let go and enjoy myself thus get really big orgasms. Be it nails scratching, biting, pinching or of coarse a good whack or two with various implements there is nothing like a little pain or a slight warming sensation to heighten the pleasure of sex---I repeat nothing!

When my Husband spanks me during sex it is never no where near as hard or fast or intense as when He is punishing me...well some times He does....but I am shall we say distracted during the event and thus the pain feels different. There is an awful lot of massaging and light biting to punctuate the slaps...and there is a wholly different energy being exchanged between us. I am usually naked and completely relaxed. There is little trepidation and an overall feeling of simply letting go and accepting.

Spanking for punishment: When I am being punished there are no ifs ands or buts about it. He is brisk and to the point. No massages, no biting, no slow sensual warm up just cold air on my bare ass then abrupt and horrible pain. He tends to use an implement instead of His hand mostly the dreaded belt or a wooden spoon. I am usually partially dressed which makes me feel even more naked. My jeans around my ankles or my skirt hiked up around my waste. He makes me kneel up on all fours (which I absolutely hate) or up against the sofa if we are in the living room or simply bend over any where else. I am anything but relaxed, even before the first slap I am anticipating the pain. And damn does it hurt!

Spanking for punishment is to remind me who's boss and to correct my mistake and that's it. It snaps me back to reality if I am throwing some kind of tantrum. It helps me set my priorities straight. I always squeal and squirm in a most undignified manner. I almost always try to get out it by begging and arguing. Only recently have I gained enough self control to still myself right before each blow and to keep my hands out of the way. I have made kind of a deal with myself since he's agreed to not slap my face I will do my damnedest to accept any punishment He chooses to give me without complaint....so far so good...but I've been real good lately and haven't needed any correction.

Spanking for relief of stress: This is a type of spanking that hardly occurs but I think it is truly a blessing. I have heard other subs discuss this before but there is a certain release that comes from crying that doesn't come from anything else. It is a type of emotional orgasm. Women who are not in D/s relationships will often induce crying on purpose by watching a sad movie or listening to sad music so it seems only natural to me that a woman in a D/s relationship would want to be spanked to tears on occasion for the genuine release it evokes. It is a deeper release than a simple cry from onions or a sad movie because it is a reconnection between the partners.

For us it usually starts slow and builds up speed and intensity a bit at a time. It is almost always on the bare and my favorite position is over His knee though often I am simply lying on my belly next to Him. He kisses me both before and afterwards and sometimes massages me in between smacks. Unlike erotic spanking this in not sexual but sensual. We might have sex afterward but we might not too. The idea is to let me totally loose myself in the feeling of the spanking--to let myself feel the pain and hopefully react by crying. It acts the same way a massage does, my body completely relaxes and all tension is loosened. It is particularly effective during my period when my emotions are unstable and fluctuating and I am full of aches and pains. I never thought a spanking could have an this effect until we tried it. It also serves as a reminder of who runs the show and helps me feel my place in the world. Very peaceful.

Well now you have heard my opinion on the matter. What do you think. Can a sub enjoy to be spanked and still be punished effectively by spanking?

Comment or email I can't wait to hear your opinions.

Control

2007-10-31T19:25:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in a while so here is a little flash fiction for fun. I wrote this for a DD writing contest. I was only allowed 500 words.

Control

“I don’t understand… I’m a grown woman—“ But before I could finish my sentence I was toppled over. I felt his open palm on my butt. My baby blue panties felt like paper. A volley of slaps fell and all my attention was on my bottom.

She’d better understand. Her hipbone dug into my thigh. Her butt firm and white seeping out from beneath her panties. I remembered her high-heeled legs high in the air while I pounded my sex inside her, ankles around my neck. She had promised me her self; to obey me unconditionally. “Anything” I had asked. “ Anything” she had answered

The tug-o-war over the remote, pouting her lips resolutely “ No more TV”

“ Give me the remote”

She tempted; her finger over the button…waiting for him to stop her. His voice was serious.

“ Give it to me, or you’ll regret it”

She laughed and pressed the button…The TV clicked off.

“ I won, I have the remote” It was over. He grabbed it from her hands and soon she was examining the hard wood floor.

“ Yes, but I have the control.”

She wants me to do this. She’s testing me, seeing if I’m serious. I am serious. I brought my hand down again and again. Her white skin was starting to blush under my palm. I pulled her panties to her knees. She kicked and writhed. I quickened my pace… “ Not on the bare…” she moaned “ It hurts” Was I brave enough to make her cry.

My ass was on fire, it felt like sunburn. Again and again he hit my bouncing cheeks. There was no pattern, no loving caresses; Just rapid fire on one cheek, and then a long hard slap across the other. All I could see was red. ” I would have given you the damn remote” I heard myself saying. Still sassy.

” It’s not about the remote, is it darling?” I continued with new vigor on her already maroon cheeks. “ Please stop!” “ I don’t think you’ve gotten it yet.” Her skin was starting to rise; so red. She broke down. The tears came. Her legs stopped kicking. She dug her hands under the cushion of the couch…” I should have obeyed you…I love you…I broke my promise…I’m so sorry….” She said it more to herself then to me.

The pain, stinging...oh god it hurts…I turned my head and managed to see his eyes…they looked sad…I broke my promise…I’m so sorry….I wept into the cushion. The pain in my heart burned much deeper then my ass.

Then he stopped. He helped her up off his knees and kissed her. He held her to him. She kissed him back. “I’m so sorry I disobeyed you. I promise to be a good girl”

“ Now let me see if you understand me…” He patted her well-spanked ass, and she flinched. He looked into her eyes and knew she understood.

Loan Moan

2007-10-25T00:08:00.000-04:00

Well apparently the discussion has been settled. Today I got a whipping instead of a face smack even though it was thoroughly my Husbands intent to do so. During a discussion about a missed payment on my student loan I tried to brush it off which is something I am never supposed to do. He raised his hand to smack me but I put my hands up over my face, held my face down and ignored his orders to move my hands. "Mercy" I cried. Mercy is our safe word because it is not something I would normally say. Something about the safe word out of context (and during a punishment!) made Him change his mind and He told me to give Him my ass instead. To show thankfulness and obedience I quickly got to my knees and bent over the love seat. I received 4 or 5 licks with His belt and am currently sitting on ice---ouch! but my face is safe.

Although I am still licking my wounds and not sitting straight I am so happy that I don't have a bruised face or a split lip. He was satisfied with the punishment too. We had a long discussion about paying student loans on time and NEVER brushing off anything He says. He even let me put ice on my welts. (At least for us) it seems even a total power exchange relationship has a little wiggle room for adjustment. Or maybe each one of us defines our relationship for ourselves and labels will never truly do them justice.

Face Slapping II

2007-10-20T03:09:00.001-04:00

After getting the third split lip of my life. I've decided enough is enough! I do not want to be slapped in my face anymore for punishment. Lightly for fun in the bedroom--fine, I may be presumptuous in saying this, but I truly believe there is a fine line behind constructive discipline and ~~abuse~~. And I believe my Husband has crossed it. I am currently trying to convince Him to stop slapping my face. Here are my main arguments.

1) He could cause me serious damage. (I will post a few article quotes below to confirm this)

2) Even minor damage like a split lip gives the appearance of battery to outsiders---like my co-workers for instance.

3) There is no reason to chance marking up my face when at least 70% of my other parts are out of the publics view and some areas are specially designed for taking harsh punishment.

So far His rebuttals are as follows:

1) "It's not up to you how you are punished. I'm in charge"

2) "Punishments are supposed to hurt and you are not supposed to like them."

3) "Don't give me any lip and I won't have to slap you"

I realized that there was a real problem when I left the following comment at Confessions of an English Gentleman's post on face slapping.

I like getting slapped for fun but when its for punishment I think its overboard. Toady my darling Husband split my lip. I'm not saying I don't deserve punishment (In fact I really should get it) I just that I don't think the face is the right place to put it. This is the third time he has split my lip and I'm furious. I don't feel submissive or meek or contrite just ready to call it all quits. What should I do. I tell my Dom how I feel and he says (rightfully) its not up to me...or leave than if you don't like the way I treat you...or even stay still so I can aim better...(holy God!)

I am at my wits end.

A friend in the D/s community wrote me to ask if there was a problem this was my response:

Well I suppose there is a problem. I am in big trouble. I broke some rules and definitely deserve to be punished, but I disagree with the form of punishment my Husband is using. He smacks me when He is angry. I wear glasses so He can't aim very well, and because of this I sometimes get injured. Of course I don't stay still and take them because frankly I don't want to be slapped. Of course I don't want to be spanked or made to kneel either but I would take either of these punishments in a heartbeat over a smack in the face.

I've talked to Him about this before--last time He split my lip, but It doesn't make a difference.

This is not ~~abuse~~ because I have agreed to let Him run my life and punish me if I do wrong. But is there such thing as overboard and can a sub complain?

I tell him "please do not smack me" and he says well then don't misbehave and then He wont have to.

Is he confusing my acceptance and enjoyment of play slapping with an acceptance of slapping in general? Or does He simply think He can do what he wants and He thinks I merit?

The only time I am ever afraid of him is when he is smacking me. I feel so silly writing these things....I asked him for a D/s relationship after all. What right do I have to complain?

But I am worried. I heard I can be seriously injured by face smacking. I've had a few split lips but I suppose that's par for the course. He doesn't back hand me. We've agreed that isn't a good idea, if only he could not smack me at all.

The friend wrote back and said in his opinion the line has been crossed and that I am being ~~abused~~. After you read my final two pieces of evidence; two article excerpts about the risks of face slapping I'd like my readers to consider my case. Has the line been crossed? Or am I just a whimpering sub complaining about what I asked for in the first place? Thank you so much for your help.

Here are the excerpts:

(I sent both of these excerpts to my Darling, and he deleted both without reading them. The orange parts are the parts I wished to highlight for my Husband)

Safety: Face Slapping

Slaps on the face are dangerous. Hitting anywhere in the head is dangerous and, as you probably noticed, the face happens to be at the front of the head.

Never, ever hit with the closed hand, with the fist (that means no, nein, non, não, nyet (or it should be njet?). If you still don’t get it, get a dictionary and translate “no” from English to your language.

But even with the palm and fingers, you could hurt your sub.

First, you will shake the head. That is dangerous because of the whiplash effect on the neck, which could hurt the neck vertebrae, muscles and tendons (or, at the extreme, break the neck). You could hold the punished‘s face with your other hand, for diminishing this effect.

Second, you’ll shake the brains, which will hit against the inside of the skull, producing a small concussion. That is why the slapped gets dizzy and is the reason for the boxer’s knock out. Too strong or repeated impacts could, as in the boxers, damage the brains.

Shaking the head can also detach the eyes retina. If there is any weakness, it could happen with a not too strong slap.

Never hit on the temples (it can kill a person) or over the ears, (the air pressure can break the eardrums). There is a torture practice, which consists of slapping both ears simultaneously, but torturers aren’t usually concerned about the well-being of their victims. You should be.

The face has very little padding. You can feel the bones from the outside. So, the pain of the slaps is caused by crushing the muscles and nerves against the bones. There are many small muscles in the face, and all of them help in giving the human face its expressions. If you damage any of them , the face will look strange, less “human”. And if you damage an important one, you will disfigure your partner.

Of course, if hitting hard enough, you will break the cheekbone (damaging almost inevitably some nerves), or dislodge or break the jaw articulation, which, even when being very strong, is not designed for receiving a lateral impact. For diminishing the possibility of this damage your sub should close forcefully the mouth.

You could even break or take out the teeth.

If the impact is strong, or the slapper is bigger than the slapped, the slapped will lose balance and s/he will risk falling or hitting against a wall, the furniture, or something.

So, forget that backhander that turns the face back, and sends the punished whirling around with ringing ears. It can look impressive (and exciting) at the movies, but the thrill of it is not worth the risk of damage.

That is the worst, but it is not all. When hitting the flesh against the bone, you could break veins, leaving bruises. A man with bruises in the face will receive some frontal jokes and could get along with another joke (“you should have seen the other”). For a woman, it is much worst, because no matter which ingenious explanation she devises, people will talk at her back, and she will be marked as a battered woman (unless, of course, she explains that she is in BDSM and that it was just a sign of love. But then she will be considered a pervert. Her choice). Of course, it will be worst if the bruise is in the form of a black eye.

Not too much force is needed for cutting the lips or the inside of the cheek against the teeth. This is the reason for that “taste of blood” in the mouth.

The slapper must remove all the rings on his/her hands, and the bracelets of her wrists. The slapped, the earrings or similar.

When using the back of the hand, remember that it has the bony knuckles protruding. Do not hit with the back of the hand, or do it lightly.

So, hit only for the sting, and play safe. No game is worth the risk of hurting your partner, and if you hit hard, you WILL hurt your sub.

Face Slapping Pro or Con?

Faceslapping is one of those things that has a LOT of obvious dangers, and also a lot of erotic potential. The dangers are everything from breaking facial bones, detaching retinas to brain damage. The erotic benefits are less obvious, and it is a matter of opinion whether they outweigh the potential dangers. I think this qualifies as edge play. The fact that I've made a choice to do it, indicates only that I've done everything I can to reduce the risk, and my partners and I are willing to take the consequences of our actions. It doesn't mean that I think this activity is safe. I don't. But what is acceptable for one person or couple can be unacceptable for others. And what is edge play for one is boring for others.

I will say that face slapping, though very lightly, is something I practice with my subs. Now, I adore my subs, I intend to live with them for the foreseeable future, so I don't want them brain damaged, nor do I want them otherwise damaged. So, how can I do it safely?

The answer is, you CAN'T do it safeLY. You CAN do it safER. The technique that I use is to hold my left palm firmly against his/her cheek, and slap his/her other cheek NOT TOO HARD with the fingers of my right hand. Or vice versa. If you are very light, you can do a forehand, backhand hit, though one stroke each would be plenty. If your hand stings, you are hitting too hard. And please remove all rings before doing this. Even a plain band can cause lacerations if you catch someone right. As a doctor involved with the D/s community stated:

"Faces are a different matter. They are NOT designed to tolerate trauma. The facial organs and tissues of the face are delicate and easily damaged. Innocent child's play commonly results in serious facial injuries. In even the skilled trained hands of a practiced "slapper", the chance of a minimally misplaced blow causing damage to the eyes or facial nerves is significant. Heavy facial slaps could indeed damage eyes, nerves, joints, neck, and even brain. Lips are particularly susceptible to damage: they split easily. The skin over the cheekbone is easily torn. In my days as an ER doc I sewed up many a slapped induced facial laceration."
(Quote from Dr. Joe in HSX 200 on CompuServe in a message thread on face slapping.)

There are countless injuries that can be sustained from this activity from detached retinas, to dislocated or broken facial bones to severe brain damage.

"When I do face slapping, I generally start my hand moving from within a foot or so of the face and I hold the bottoms head in place with my other hand. If I'm playing with someone new, I may not even move my arm at all. I use just my wrist and often I will brace elbow of the arm that I am slapping with against the bottoms body. All of this is done to reduce velocity and increase accuracy, thus reduced risk. As for my personal choice for a target area, I like to have the fingers of my right hand land on the face in the space formed with my little finger running along about the gum line and my index finger touching the cheek bone. Please note I said and mean my fingers. If my palm touches the face I feel that I have mis-stroked and I apologize to my bottom."
(From a post in a message thread from HSX 200 on CompuServe.)

Faceslapping is something that MUST be approached with care. Boxers and other sports figures demonstrate pretty vividly the dangers of repeated trauma to the head area. Not to mention that the neck is also in danger of damage, especially whiplash type injuries and worse.

2nd Annual Love our Lurkers Day

2007-10-12T07:00:00.000-04:00

Today 141 spanking orientated blogs are inviting all of our formerly silent readers to introduce themselves by leaving a comment. Don't be shy and say hello. You may remain anonymous behind your screen name but tell us a little about yourself. All you have to do is comment to this post. Thank you so much. I look forward to "meeting" you all.

-Naughtybuttcute

Keeping you coming

2007-10-10T23:41:00.000-04:00

Just a quick note,

Please take a minute or two and fill in the two polls on the bottom of the page. I know you all like the site but I'd love to know what I can do to keep you coming...

Thank you so much

Naughtybuttcute

Short Story Contest III

2007-10-10T21:30:00.000-04:00

I've decided to extend the deadline for the short story contest to October 20th because I know a least a few of you are scrambling on last minute changes to your stories.

Don't forget the winner gets fabulous prizes!

The first place winner will receive a digital copy of O, The Power of Submission.

The second place winner will receive a digital copy of Anne Rice's The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty.

The top three finalists will get their stories published on Sublime.

Take advantage of this grace period and send me something great!

I can't wait to see what you come up with!

-Naughtybuttcute

Details about contest:

First Ever Short Story Contest

Sasayaki (Moonlight Whispers)

2007-10-08T15:42:00.000-04:00

Sasayaki (Midnight whispers) by Japanese director, Akihiko Shiota is a complete jewel of a BDSM film. Based on the manga series, Gekko no sasayaki, It is the story of two young high-school kids on the brink of a sexual discovery.

It is Japan’s answer to The Secretary with its discrete eroticism and gentle self approbation. But instead of two adults unearthing their secret personalities and sexual desires, it is teenagers.

Beginning as a traditional love story of two young adults, it blossoms into something much more enlightening. The summery scenes of girl and boy riding two astride a bicycle through grassy fields is abruptly replaced by a scene of rain drenched confusion where the boy kneels at the feet of the girl and begs to be her dog.

From this moment they begin to lay aside their reservations and investigate what this kind of relationship might mean. The girl commences a reign of psychological and physical torture and is surprised by her own enjoyment. “I find that when you cry it makes me feel happy. I will make you cry all I can.” The boy allows himself to be debased in more and more extreme ways and realizes that it is preferred place to be. “A dog obeys his master to receive her praise…I will do what you say”

It is a sensual reminder of what it is to be young and to start feeling that mysterious itch for something peculiar outside the realms of “normal” sexual encounters, knowing that you are different and feeling odd and disgusted with your own desires. Repeatedly the girl sends him off dejected with one word ringing in the air, “hentai.” (pervert).

These awkward feelings are probably ingrained upon the memories of all kinksters. I personally remember asking an early crush to play “knight in shining armor” with me. We were both into role playing games and I tried to convince him to pretend I was a captive princess need of rescuing. Now as I look back I realize I just wanted to be tied up…

Akihiko Shiota has managed to capture these emotions perfectly. We have been searching for films that express the depth of BDSM , that present it without moral judgment and allow for discovery and exploration of passion, Sasayaki can stand among the greats.

The "O" Awards- Have been Updated!

2007-10-08T15:00:00.000-04:00

There is a new award winner, check it out! The O Awards