My Love is Like a Red, Red Arse...

I shook my head, restoring my focus on the here and now. Jake's arse stood out, with three quarters of a heart in deep red on a pink background. Time to complete it.

A strike.

Jake's foot swung into the air, involuntarily.

"Put that down!" I yelled, almost as involuntarily.

I heard him sobbing. Nothing comprehensible. Normally, I'd check for confirmation he didn't want to use a safeword. This time, we needed to just get through one last line.

His foot returned to the floor, dragon on his thigh back in view. His leg wobbled, but was where it needed to be.

I didn't ask any more questions. Just whacked him one. Ah, a perfect placement! A red line widened, like a burn.

Then I dropped the cane and laid my head on his shoulder, my arm round his back. "All done, poppet. All done."

He nodded. His sobs came to a halt. He wasn't the only one with moist eyes.

"OK, pet. Can you shuffle a bit more towards me? Good. Stand up? No, that's fine! Just lie on me. On the floor, lah. You totally blur, that's OK."

We'd both collapsed -- I wasn't able to hold him up. Someone passed us my bottle of water; I ordered Jake to drink some before I took a swig myself. We took a few minutes in silence, until our breathing returned to normal.

Characteristically, Jake spoke first. "How does it look?"

I looked down. The last line was now an ugly shade of purple, but in the right place. The others were more dark red. "Remarkably neat. I'll take you to a mirror, when you're ready."

"Mm. Thanks. You can do the writing before we go."

"Me?" Oh yeah. Writing on his back wouldn't be something he could do himself.

"Yeah. You've got that neat Asian handwriting and all. Sorry, is that racist?"

"A bit of an over-generalisation!" But I knew what he meant, the careful squarish shapes of letters acquired from lots of penmanship practice in primary school. Especially important if you also wrote Chinese with all its tiny strokes. I could just about speak some Cantonese, but hardly write any.

"Sorry. It's nice writing, though."

"What would you like me to write?"

"I was thinking, 'I love you, Mistress'? Keep it simple. Then just sign it J, myself."

"Do you want that heart filled in at all?"

It might be aesthetically pleasing, but it would be tough to make happen. Any implement landing on the outline would be unbearable.

The boy twitched on my lap, loving that soreness from the aftermath of a scene. He smiled. "I know what I would like filled..."

"You insatiable little pervert!"

"And?" He wriggled, his cock cage pressing my thigh.

"You did take all that discipline very nicely. I'm just thinking, what time do you need to get home? Cat will probably go to sleep early, no?" I stroked his back, not his bottom. Even outside that outline, a touch caused him to quiver and gasp. Even if I barely laid a fingertip on it.

"For her, that's still after midnight. But yeah, I'd like to be back round then, to check on her."

"Right. Do you think you can get up yet?"

"In a minute. I'm not sure I'd be able to do much beyond lying down again. That was a bit intense..."

We sat quietly. I let my finger roam round the outside of his heart mark, then between his legs to his balls.

He moaned beautifully, sensitised all over. I'd like to see more of that. I decided I'd make that happen. He could go down on me another time. He'd better!

I pulled our bags to my side. "I noticed you had toys in here. You like them up your arse, right?"

Jake blushed. He confirmed, "Yeah. Yes, ma'am."

"OK. Pick which one you want." There was a choice of three. He pushed the inflatable one away, dithered between two vibrating cocks of different shapes. I confirmed his choice had functional battery. It pulsed, with gyrating knobs and nodules to hit various areas. He'd said an anal orgasm was satisfying for him, even with a caged cock. I was eager to see what that looked like.

"Can we?"

"I want you to see your backside, first. There's a mirror out by the changing room. You crawl over there, I'll follow you with our stuff."

He didn't want to crawl, but, wonderful as it was to have a masochist to play with, I wanted his submission, too. As did Cat. I didn't want him getting into bad habits, away from her.

He sighed dramatically, pulled himself up to hands and knees, and set off to the far end of the nightclub. Rooms seem much larger when your knees are shuffling along the floor.

I caught up easily. With the two mirrors in a corner, he could see his refection properly. Jake reversed himself, tried to see how he looked from behind, sighed again. He looked at me, pleading for permission to admire himself. But silently.

What a good boy. I was more impressed because I knew Jake so well. Keeping his mouth shut would never be easy for him!

"Yes, stand up! Bend a bit."

"Man! That's..." His words vanished.

"Hm?"

"That's... That's how I feel. For my Mistress..."

I extracted the marker pen. "I'll do the writing. I. Love. You. Mistress. The word Mistress first, here... You, Love. I'll go over the I a few times, so it stands out against your grey ink... There."

Jake looked at the text with satisfaction, the reflection of a reflection readable. For a whole minute, he was overcome, and silent, recognising his emotions had been made public. Then he whispered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Shall I guide your hand while you sign it?" Just as well I did, or the J would have curled the wrong way.

I had to admit, it looked impressive, even with some of the inside of the heart being a bit pale. "Come on, you want your pleasure. You can lay across my lap in the lounge."

He dipped his chin, knowing he'd have to endure the room watching as he fucked himself. I'd enjoy that, anyway. I made him crawl there, too, keeping him in the right headspace to cope with an audience.

I sat down daintily on a couch, tapped where I wanted Jake to kneel. I'd seen a dozen heads twist, to read what was written on him. A fair few had gone "Aww, so cute." It made a pleasant change from the usual 'slut' or 'whore', which was all you'd usually see scrawled on bodies. I wondered what Cat usually did with the pen.

I passed Jake his vibrator. I'd kept two things in my hand. One was a tube of lube. I flipped the lid, forced my hand between his legs, the dragon tattoo appearing to lick my hand, and started slicking him up. I decided his arsehole was ready to be fucked with his sizeable rubber phallus.

"Go on, boy. Show everyone you fucking yourself, you desperate little tart. Just like your Mistress wanted you to be."

He really hadn't needed much persuasion. But remembering that it was Cat's order that he get penetrated, here in public at this club, he convinced himself to act on it. In front of a hundred curious people, he pushed himself round his large fake cock.

He was gorgeous. My pussy was wet. I'd worry about that another time -- right now I was getting this beautiful masochist to get off. Somewhat getting off from his rubbing over my lap, too.

Which reminded me, I also had a small pin-wheel in my hand. I rolled it carefully over his heart mark, helping to colour it in. His gasping and moaning in pleasure was the important part. He couldn't concentrate on fucking himself, so I took over, idly scribbling with the steel pins over his marks.

Those groans were ecstatic, even before I switched the vibrator on. This was one reason I loved dominance -- you can really get someone to heights of pleasure that other types of sex simply don't reach.

I twisted the toy, this way then that. He shouted, every time it hit a particular point inside him, so I left it there and turned it up.

Perhaps I should have lifted my dress out from underneath him. It was being dropped on. Hell, it was washable! I encouraged Jake's yelling, telling him what a good toy he was, while at the same time I flicked the pin-wheel more wildly across the heart on his arse, pressing its points over a pale patch in one of the curves.

Jake panted. He was wheezing, loving the overwhelming sensory overload. The boy was so into his subspace, he'd beg for more, almost no matter what I did to him. But I needed him to be able to walk, to get home.

So I flicked the vibrator straining his arse to maximum pulsing. And clawed my nails into the centre of his scarlet-and-purple Valentine's heart.

He screamed, pleasure overwhelming him.

I felt my lap get soaked, cum flooding out of his cock even though it couldn't get hard. I patted his thighs, their pink marks looking like nothing in comparison to his crimson bottom. I fondled his back, ran my hand through his hair.

Who needs a pet cat or dog, when you've got an obedient man to stroke?

It took a good while, before he managed to prop himself up on his forearms. "God, that was fantastic! You're a fucking genius, Sarah."

I'd had enough of being the domme. I was happy to be Sarah again. Way less responsibility. "I know, sweetie. And you should be proud of yourself. Much as I'd love you to reciprocate, I think we've got to get you home to Cat."

"Indeed. Ah well, another time." Jake grinned, licking his lips. Yes, we both wanted them to be on my pussy, sometime, but sometimes a sick wife comes first. No, not like that. "How do I look now?"

"Almost pre-printed," I told him. "Cat or I should take a photo when you unveil it. Got everything?"

"I need put clothes on! Even in Hackney, I don't think this would pass!" He waved at his genitals.

"Oh, yeah!" I laughed. "Here you go. Just trousers, socks, shoes..."

"That shoe seems to have survived unscathed," he observed. "Good classic British design."

"And your jacket. Though with your tattoos it almost looks like you're wearing a vest -- you could not bother."

"I would, but it's still cold! It's only bloody February, remember!"

"Which is why we have coats. Come on, let's catch that bus."

Jake was walking stiffly, but not so much that strangers would notice. Until the old lady I sat next to insisted on offering him her seat. "Come on, young man, you sit by your lady here! I's getting off next stop..."

Jake protested that he really did prefer to stand.

I giggled. The lack of responsibility, now, was freeing. I made a point of groping his arse as we got off the bus, just to feel him squirm.

The house was dark when we got in. I followed Jake upstairs as he went to check on Cat. Their bedroom door was ajar, a bedside lamp on. She was dozing.

He knocked, gently. "Hello, love. We're back."

"Mm? Hey, come here! Did you have a good time? Take your jacket off, babe."

"Yes. Thank you."

"Good! Come in, Sarah." Catherine propped herself up on her pillows and blew her nose.

"What did you get up to? Were you good for her?"

Jake looked helplessly at me. I was the judge.

"He was very good. Lots of fun. Even if he couldn't show me his talents because he wanted to get back to you."

He made a show of checking his watch.

"But it is now after midnight."

Cat's face betrayed confusion. A hot toddy and cold meds will do that, even without the blocked sinuses.

"He wanted a rather special Valentine's card for you. So..."

Jake turned away from her and dropped his trousers.

"Fucking hell! Jakey, darling! 'I love you, Mistress'? Aw, you shouldn't have! Come here!"

Jake's wife and Mistress was overcome, tears coming to her tired eyes. "You sweet, devoted, sweet nutcase!"

She held him tight as they kissed, as romantic as any happy married couple could be.

I hoped Duncan and I would stay that passionate if we got married next year. I didn't have many loving kinky role-models. Not beyond Morticia and Gomez Addams. Even though they were great examples

Cat coughed, blew her nose again, and drank more water. "You're so great, you are, pet. Sarah, thank you so much for giving him a good time! That red arse is quite terrifying! But I can see he enjoyed himself..."

His cock was still glistening, sticky, in his cage. She had another coughing fit, pointing at it.

Eventually Cat managed to croak, "Love, you're fabulous, but can you sleep in the spare room tonight? Then at least you'll get some sleep!"

"Sure thing, darling. I'll just shower. Then I'll do breakfast in the morning. Or just bring you tea in bed, if you're right poorly."

"I'd better be up for you fucking me," she grumbled. "No, you're not getting unlocked until then! Night-night, love. And you, Sarah. Don't keep him awake too long!"

Jake got as clean as he could, and snuggled up to me in bed.

We didn't go to sleep immediately. It turned out Jake was a very well-trained boy.

In the morning, I followed my nose downstairs to find Jake cooking breakfast. Our naked chef wore an apron only, leaving his arse on perfect display. The heart was even clearer than it had been last night, going purple. His message of love hadn't smudged at all.

"Morning, Sarah. Can you keep an eye, while I take Cat a cuppa?"

Ten minutes later, she appeared, in a fluffy dressing-gown. "I'm a bit better, thanks. Let's see if this food helps. Have you eaten, love? OK, serve yourself and take your plate to the counter. Good boy, Jacob. Undo your apron strings and bend over. Yes, like that. So I can see you."

To me, she explained, "Well, if he gives me an amazing piece of art as a Valentine, but it doesn't fit on the mantelpiece, what do you expect me to do?"

"He did say he had a card."

"Good. I've got one for him, too, upstairs."

"Could you take a picture of it?" I meant his backside. "It's actually harsher than I would have been, but he only suggested it once he was already red."

"Rose red! Yes. There. Preserved for posterity! A beautiful loving posterior. Eat up, love. I'll want you to do all the energetic stuff, once Sarah heads home. I'm OK, but still wiped."

Jake knelt, naked, at Cat's feet, once he'd finished eating. She stroked his hair and fed him morsels. He really was adorable. Not that I'd want to marry him, but borrowing him occasionally might work rather well.

"What plans do you have?" she asked me.

"We'll meet up for lunch, then head home. Maybe watch a film this afternoon, then have a nice evening in."

"Oh yeah?" Jake queried. "'Nice evening in'? Is that a euphemism for lots of kinky sex?"

"Might be. But you're not invited, so, none of your business, lah," I retorted.

"I bet you're all cute and submissive. What does Duncan do? Do you wear pigtails and call him Daddy?"

"Cat, tell your boy not to be rude."

She grinned at me. "Why? Is he getting too near the mark? He's clever like that. What else do you think she does, pet?"

Jake rested his forearms on her leg and considered. "I'm not sure. She'd look fabulous in school uniform, for sure. Anything that showed off her great curved butt. Or stockings, and a corset. Do you stand in a corner when you've been naughty? And get told you mustn't touch your sore red bum? Actually -- bondage! You've got so much rope and cuffs in your bag, you must love that!"

"Who says it's used on me?"

"You're not denying it. Little kinky bondage slut." Jake sing-songed as he returned his chin to his hand.

"Well! Given these scurrilous accusations," -- apart from the school uniform, he was horrifyingly accurate; I bet Duncan would love to see me in a short skirt and knee socks, too -- "I think I'll be off. Careful of that bum, now, Jacob."

"Course I will. Now you, be a good girl for Duncan. Tell him we want to hear all about it. Because one day, we might want you to be a good girl for us..."

Cat just grinned. "Bye, Sarah. Have a lovely Valentine's Day. Are you sure you gave Duncan a card and we don't need to improvise?"

I rolled my eyes, and left them to it.

_____

This story is an entry in the 2023 Valentine's Day Contest. If you got this far and liked it, please vote.

Comments always appreciated!

Jake, Cat and Sarah first appeared in Strength is a Caged Cock.