Cyber Arsonist Strikes Again

We have a blogland friend who is a cyber arsonist. From our emails and postings she picks up a kink here, a hot button there, throws in some kindling and accelerant from her own devious imagination, gets some sparks flying, and within moments Mick and Molly are consumed in the flames she has fanned.

On Tuesday, her story about an imaginary Dom taking title to Molly led us to some quick and dirty sex on my office floor. Lucky for me, Mistress had given me a free pass on my cage that day. Here is the tale that got us going:
http://vanillamom.wordpress.com/2010/02/03/subbie/#comment-1257


This imaginary Dom must have had a real grip on Molly’s will power if he could command her to wear a red dress rather than her standard issue black . More

Yesterday our arsonist sent the provoctive “conclusion” of her story to us. Sadly, when it arrived in my inbox, I was locked away in my cage. As I read through to the end, my cock pressed uncomfortably against it’s steel confines. Argh. This is where giving up control of that sometimes uncontrollable part of my anatomy literally hurts.

Mistress had hoped to stop by for some worship time, but her business lunch lasted longer than she had hoped, and her next engagement called. I would have to wait. And I was anxious for her to read what our arsonist had sent to us. While the story was by now in her I-phone inbox, it was NOT something to be read at a stoplight, even if you are not driving a Toyota.

When we finally found ourselves at home together, after a long and busy workdays, I asked Mistress to lay down beside me on our bed. I was in my jeans (cage still on of course).Mistress shrugged out of her dress, laying next to me in black bra and tights.

We talked a bit about our days and an interesting proposition Mistress had received. (No, not that kind of proposition.). Then I handed Mistress the laptop, already open to the 2nd half of ‘Nilla’s story.

AS she read I slid my head into Mistress’s lap, my face pressing against her, nuzzling and caressing her through those black tights. Her hips began to squirm as she read about her tortured erotic demise (I don’t want to leak the details until it is published by our provocateur).

Once she slid the laptop onto a bedside table, I helped her squirm out of those black tights, now sodden and aromatic with her juices. She wrapped her fingers into the hair at the back of my head, pulling my face hard and deep between her thighs. It took only a few more moments of devotion from my eager lips and tongue before she was gasping and bucking against my head. Then she collapsed against the bed.

When she recovered, it was time to fix dinner for the surly teens.

My cage stayed locked on, just like in ‘Nilla’s story.

But I suspected Mistress would ultimately take her cramped tool out to play before the night was over and my Abstinence Day began.