She's Got Legs....

It may have been Mistress’s long, strong and very shapely legs that made me fall head over heels for her all those years ago.

My first recollection of meeting Molly was at a political fundraising dinner in River City back in the Fall of 1987. She was an (early) 20 something who had recently gone to work for a politico who has since become a rumpled U.S. Senator (yes, he did vote for the health care bill).

I was a late 30’s professional, involved in the local political scene.  It was the age of Reagan and  Iran/Contra. Michael Dukakis had yet to don a combat helmet or ridden in a tank.

We were both married to other people at the time.

I saw her across the room: this young, vibrant beauty with long dark hair, and a stylish short dress that exposed those incredible legs.

Somehow I figured a way to get into her conversational orbit. She must have been chatting up a mutual friend. That was my chance to find out who this heavenly creature with the beautiful legs and luminous smile was. In the conversation that ensued, I can remember commenting on the length of that fashionable dress, how it was something one did not see often in our more conservative, frumpy town.

This was not the sort of conversational theme I would normally have launched into on my first encounter with any woman. But then I was immediately and hopelessly smitten.

She seemed amused, a bit flattered, by my attention.  But wary.  Very wary.

She turned down my obsequious and questionably motivated offer to walk her to her car that night. It was a dark night, in a not altogether safe downtown. I was simply concerned about her well being. Right. I was just looking for a chance to spend some private time with this young lovely.

 Later she told me that she had asked a bellman from the hotel where the dinner was held to do the honors. She was questioning my motivations. And rightfully so.

I will spare you devoted readers the tale of how we ended up in bed with one another within about 9 months from that fateful encounter.

But flashing forward through a lengthy affair, two children, marriage, and sidetracks to Florida and other locales, Mistress’s legs are as compelling as ever.

She keeps then in such shapeliness with lots of biking and other forms of exercise. They are weapons of mass seduction that need to be expertly maintained to retain their seductive powers, and she is an expert.

In years past, and on our witch days, I have enjoyed restraining them, ankles tied to opposite sides of the bed, so I can work my hands and mouth up their full length, watching her squim in anticipation.

In my recently discovered status as her Slave, I enjoy kneeling for her,  her legs spread wide, or maybe draped over my shoulders,  gripping my head, as I use my mouth and tongue to show my devotion to her.

I will remain eternally grateful that Mistress had not worn trousers to that fundraising event all those years ago.

Yesterday an anonymous commenter asked if I had ever “taken Molly up the ass”. The answer is “uh….no.” It’s not something either one of us have been into. I suspect it would take some very powerful persuasion to get Molly interested in that particular experience.

 

Diabolical Fingers

Today’s favorite parts are Mistress’s hands, and particularly those slender, well manicured fingers. She puts them to good use when she strokes my neck on the long drive to our undisclosed destination, or when she uses them to tease at my cock and balls to create a rigid form worthy of her. And of course those hands wield the crop or wooden shoehorn she uses to remind me of my status as her Slave.

The photo is from Sunday's switch, when Mistress was required to submit to her Slave's cropping.

Yesterday Molly put her fingers to good use after a “stressful” day on the slopes.

Mick got in more than his fair share of moguls yesterday, soft and just a tad slushy under the intense Southwestern sun. By the time we slid off the ski boots and headed back down the mountain, we were both ready for some R & R, first out on the patio, soaking up rays while reading books, then back in our bedroom.

“Are you going to fuck me now, Slave?”

“Hmmm….how about a nap first, Mistress. I was nodding off out there.”

Mistress is never one to turn down a nap, and we both dozed a bit before Mistress woke and took a shower. We were taking the teens out to dinner and to hear some local honky tonk music in about an hour. It seemed the window of sex opportunity had closed, and we tentatively agreed we would get back on track after dinner.

But when Mistress got back in bed to read after her shower, my own fingers had trouble keeping away from her smooth shaven parts. It is a wonderful little toy to explore. So I simply toyed with her a bit, while reading my own book.

Soon I could detect some juices beginning to flow. Hmmm.

“Would you like me to worship, Mistress.

“I was wondering when you would ask, Slave.”

I slid off the bed, onto my knees. Mistress shifted a bit, spreading her legs.

I did my work, licking with some urgency, savoring Mistress’s delicious honey. And she dragged it out a bit.

“Suck it, Slave.”

I took her clit between my lips and sucked away to please her, her pink parts no longer encumbered by the thick fur that not long ago would have gotten in my way.

Soon Mistress built herself to a strong, powerful orgasm, moaning as she pumped her hips against my mouth.

At this point, I would have been happy to postpone my own pleasure until later, my body still a bit tired from our day on the mountain. But that’s where Mistress’s fingers came in.

She pushed me back onto the bed and began to fondle and tease me with those lovely digits. At some point her mouth came into play too. Soon I was squirming, begging for the privilege to fuck her.

“I want to be on top, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I was already on my back, and Mistress had no trouble mounting me. When she takes this position, it’s very clear who is in charge. She builds slowly, pressing and rubbing her hips against my swollen cock, moving from slow and sensuous to desperate frenzy. And she was the one who initiated the smutty dialogue.

“How would you like to watch my Dom fuck me, Slave?”

This was a theme we had discussed some over the last few weeks. Sir M has brought it up, but it was also a bit of a fantasy even before he showed up in Mistress’s in box.

“It would be hard, Mistress. But exciting too, I think….”

She’s churning harder against me now, her breathing erratic. Increasingly desperate.

“I’d like you to watch us Slave ….to see you masturbate while he makes me come.”

“Or would you make me wear my cage?”

Her passion is making her voice foggy, farther off now.

“Maybe the cage….you’d be desperate wouldn’t you, Slave?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress. It would drive me crazy. To hear you beg him to come….”

It was about this time that Mistress came, crashing hard against me, moaning, sobbing, tears welling in her eyes, then rolling over, onto her back, still shuddering. It was one of those Mega orgasms, that caught both of us by surprise. Powerful fantasies here.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

And it all started with those diabolical fingers.

The "After" Shot.

Vivid Moon shadows here this morning at our undisclosed location. Mick’s body clock has trouble adjusting to the two hour time shift, so I am up early watching that bright full moon set almost exactly where the sun set so brilliantly last night. And being reminded that no matter where you go, the local NPR station will be into a fundraising drive whenever you want to listen the “Morning Edition.”

Yesterday’s picture of Mistress’s delightful bottom in its pre-waxing mode drew a nice comment from our colleague SFP (who seems to prefer showing legs and breasts at her site, Peacefully Submissive), and also a nice piece of “fan mail” from our friend M, who lives a bit north of here (not to be confused with Sir M, back in River City):

“Wow best picture yet.  Sweet ass yes, but I would say its a highly fuckable ass.  That bottom is just begging to be pulled apart wide open and admired.  Then firmly entered and taken.  Wonderful ass Molly,  Mick you are a very blessed man. “

Indeed, I am. 

Before moving onto another “favorite part”, it seemed fair to do an “after” shot of Mistress’s bottom, which has now been waxed so silkily smooth. But let me set the stage for this delightful photo….

It was our “switch” day. But since we were going skiing, I elected to defer my privileges until après ski.

The sky was cloudless and the snow was still fresh from the weekend dump. By around 2:30 our legs were shot, and the sun called out to Mistress.  We retreated down the mountain, and Mistress was quickly stripped to her black panties and sports bra, lying on a lounge chair on our patio.

(Seeing their mother parading about in her undies naturally brings out groans of disgust from the surly teens …

“but you’re 45 (i.e. at death’s door)….yuck”, from  our 18 year old, who was in a much more revealing bikini.)

While it may only have been about 55 degrees, the heat of the sun made it perfect sunbathing weather. Which is what we did for about 90 minutes, me reading the Times, Molly buried in a book.

But it cooled as the sun got lower, and I suggested it was time for Mistress to face the music. I had warned her earlier that she was due for a spanking.

Back in our bedroom, Mistress whined, but dutifully stripped out of her underwear, lay on the bed, and picked up her laptop to finish her (vanilla) blog of the day. She was being difficult and defiant.

I pulled out the red cuffs, two locks and some rough hemp rope, and ordered Mistress to shut down her computer.

She reluctantly complied, and I locked the cuffs on her slender wrists.

“Now, roll over onto your stomach, Mistress.”

“My, you are getting bossy, Slave.”

“And if your ‘friend’ told you to position yourself in a certain way, what would you do?”

“Exactly what he told me to do Slave.”

“You like that don’t you?”

“I suppose I do.”

She rolled over as directed then, and I used the rope to fix her cuffs to the little eyebolts screwed into each side of the bed. Her arms were now stretched out. Her lovely bottom available to me.

I shot some photos of her, then put the camera down, and picked up the riding crop I had left by the side of the bed.

My first strike to her full and vulnerable bottom came as a surprise.

“Ow….that was … scary,” she pouted, her bottom squirming, legs flailing.

Nothing like the element of surprise to get a temporary subbie’s attention.

Mistress took her medicine well after that, as I applied a series of moderately severe cropping to her bottom until it was a nice cherry red. Her hips were pumping against the pillow I had slid under her. Was she trying to avoid the crop, or to bring herself off? Hard to tell.

Then I put the crop down, lay next to her and used the fingers of both hands, one wedged under her, another toying with her tight little ass, to “generously” give her the orgasm that all that squirming seemed to demand.

By now my cock was firm and ready for her, and she was more than moist enough to accept me as I mounted her from behind.  She moaned as the tip of my cock found her opening, and slowly accessed her, her legs spreading wider to accommodate me.

Mistress came again, more dramatically, as I pumped into her. I like to see her face buried on the sheets and hear those lovely, lusty sounds as I take her that way.

As her breathing returned to normal, I slid out and off her, waiting my turn.

“Will you please roll me over now Slave?”

The “switch” therapy must have worked: she was asking, rather than ordering, at least for the moment.

Another Good Part

Molly, Mick and the surly teens had a great day skiing in some fresh powder here yesterday. The fresh foot of snow was a  treat this late in the season. And though it was not a full sun day, the clouds and snow showers kept the snow fresh and light. Now the clouds have blown off and it’s time to smear on the sun screen.

But back to my accounting of Mistress many lovely attributes ….

Another good part to mention is Mistress’s bottom: firm from all that bike riding, yet delightfully soft and smooth to the touch. No droops or sags. Flawless skin. It’s definitely one of her premier attributes.

“Sweet ass” is a phrase used by one of you in a recent comment. Mistress blushed a bit when I read that one to her. She knows it is a desirable feature, but never minds a little outside affirmation.

And Mistress’s recent waxing makes it all the more alluring. The photo above is a “before” shot, from one of our switch moments, after Mistress had a good spanking that reddened her ass a bit. You can detect just a bit of soft downy fur, sprouting between her legs.

No more. Now when she directs me to sidle up against her at bed time, my naked cock slides between her cheeks to discover a smooth, soft little piece of heaven. Sometimes it’s hard to just nod off under those taxing circumstances.

Her bottom takes a spanking, or cropping well too. Of course it’s best to tie her down for those “switch” moments. When I do she squirms sensuously  as I discipline her, with only a bit of whining thrown in.

So far, Mistress has reported only one spanking at the hands of Sir M. She was “punished” for failing to follow her explicit directions when it came to the removal of all that pubic fur.

“Did he punish you, Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave. He spanked me a little. I think he liked me naked that way, but said I was bad for not following his instructions.”

“How did it feel to be spanked by someone other than me, Mistress.”

“Humiliating, Slave.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes….but I think you have spanked me harder.”

“Did it turn you on, Mistress.”

“Yes, very much, Slave.”

(Of course, that’s when Slave’s imagination takes off. Argh.)

I suspect it won’t be the last time Sir M will have to give Mistress a good spanking. She will be a challenging student when it comes to   teaching obedience and submission.

All this reflection on Mistress’s bottom and spanking may be good timing. Today is our traditional switch day.  I feel a spanking coming on.

Some of the Good Parts

Mick and Molly arrived with the surly teens to a gentle spring snow storm here at our undisclosed location on the edge of the Sangre de Christo Mountains. The scene was more White Christmas than Spring Break, but very lovely.

This week I am going to kick back a bit from blogging. But I know our faithful followers will expect occassional updates. And I don't want to disapoint.

This week's focus will be on Mistress's delicious body. Like the overworked football coach pouring over the video tape before a big game, I will try to "break it down" into all the wonderful component parts, with appropriate illustraions, of course.

Let's start with those full and firm breasts, depicted to the right.

Mistress sometimes complains that I do not appreciate them enough.

"You don't mention my breasts much in the blog, Slave. Don't you like them?"

Well of course I do. I like their soft, creamy texture. Even when she was a bit overly tanned during our Florida days, her breasts were usually spared and remained very soft and smooth.

When I press my face against them, or use my lips and tongue to stimulate those firm nipples, the taste and scent can drive me crazy with desire for her.

And if properly stimulated, those breasts can create some delicious effects.

We were making gentle, no rush, love here last night in our cozy bedroom, after a long day of work and travel. I was atop  mistress, slowly sliding into her, pressing myself against the apex of those strong sexy thighs (oops, need to focus here....breasts, Mick, breasts!). I used my fingers to gently, then more firmly squeze both nipples simultaneaously. I could swear that Mistress breathing quickened,  and, much sooner than I had expected, she had one of those slow motion orgasms that suddenly had her thrusting against me and moaning into my ear.

"Did you like that, Mistress."

"Of course, Slave."

"There's more to come..."

And there was. High altitude sex (it's 7500 ft. here) requires pacing.

Of course, when (gently) cross examined, Mistress readily confirms that her Dom, Sir M, is also quite taken by her breasts.

"He went crazy on them Slave. Sqeezing, pinching."

"Did you like that Mistress"

"Oh...Yes, Slave", this was said in a dreamy, langorous voice one evening as we were fucking hard, making me wonder what thoughts, memories I had triggered.

Oh yes, I do like your breasts, Mistress. And apparently I am not the only one.

Off

This afternoon Mick and Molly are taking their surly teens on a spring break ski trip to our undisclosed location out West. Over the enxt week, my posts may be fewer and more abbreviated, But rest assured we will be doing our best to live up to the standards our readers have come to expect. I have already packed away a bag of goodies, the kind you hope airport security will not take an interest in, particularly in front of the kids.

As in, "M'am, can you explain what these red leather cuffs and padlocks are for?"

"Just jewelry, Officer."

After my whining yesterday, it's only proper to report that Mistress did allow me to break my abstinence yesterday morning. When I came upstairs to wake her, I discovered she was already awake, emersed in  her laptop.

"Where have you been Slave? I thought you would be particularly horny this morning?"

"Just finishing up this morning's essay, Mistress. But if I had known you were up, I would have revised and extended my remarks later today."

(As you can see, there's been too much CPSAN on our TV this week. Thank God that's behind us.)

"And yes, I am very horny. Could not even get the ring on this morning."

(Better to get the bad news out first, before she has to discover it herself, with those curious fingers of hers).

"Aw. Poor Slave."

(Good. SHe was feeling merciful).

I slid into bed, my head bobbing beneath the covers, finding that lovely shaved cunt to which I have become even more addicted. Thank you, Dom.

AS she chuckled over my entry de jour, I used my fingers to spread those clean shaven lips and expose her sensitive parts to my tongue. She rewarded me with delightful little squirms and the sweet taste of her juices.

Once I had pleased her, the computer was set aside, and she used those skilled fingers to make sure I was more than ready to break my abstinence.

'Why don't you fuck me now Slave."

"Gladly, Mistress."

When finally given permission to come, well... it was a very nice reward.
 

I was given a pass on my cage yesterday. Very merciful. I made a note to show my gratitude when the opportunity arose.

 Mistress came down to my office late in the afternoon to join me at a political function. She arrived early enough for some worship, which I was anxious to provide to give thanks  for a cageless work day.

Spring has officially arrived, and though you could not tell from yesterday's cold rain, Mistress has abandoned her fall/winter uniform of black tights and boots. Yesterday afternoon she arrived in a foxy black dress, bare legs and black sandals with heels and sexy straps. (I know I should have taken a picture).

So once I pressed the chair against the door, and had her sit on her throne, from my knees I could slide my face and hands up those firm, shapely thighs, and press  my lips against her black panties. Mistress's dress was hiked up to her hips, legs spread, giving me ample access.

Soon I was coaxing those black panties down her legs, leaving them draped around an ankle. Before me was Mistress's cleanly shaved cunt, her pink bud rosier than the rest, peeking out for her audience.

"I cleaned it up a bit for you today, Slave."

"Nice Mistress."

Very smooth. Crazy driving smooth.

My lips devoured her. Her hands gripped my hair, She churned against me, until she finally said:

"Enough, Slave."

And while she may have had enough for the moment, It seems I never get enough of her.

HNT/ Denied for the Day

Those of you out there who get locked in a cage for a few days or even weeks at a time (or who claim that you do to fascinate your readers) will have no sympathy for my whining about a day of denial.

But keep in mind that the last few weeks Mistress has been rather permissive with respect to my Abstinence Days. Part of it may be that her "engagements" with her new Dom landed on a Tuesday or Wednesday, and she probably was feeling a need to sooth me a bit. Or just wanted yet another hard cock. But this week their schedules got twisted, so no "date". And on Tuesday (as reported here) I messed up a bit.

So Mistress was determined to hold me to my vow of chastity for the day. And she taunted a bit along the way.

When I came up our bedroom in the morning, steel ring already at the base of my cock and balls, Mistress allowed me to worship her after my shower. And she gave my cock a nice stroking, before suggesting it was time for me to put the cage on and get to work. Argh. Hard to pull away and face the day in that state.

When I got home, a little late, from a political fundraiser, we had time for me to worship her before we prepared dinner. And I did some of my best work, kneeling and sucking, her parts teased out between my teeth. I flattered her with comments about how sweet she tasted without all that fur to obstruct her juices or my acces to them.

AS I tried to please her, She seemed distracted by the voice of her old boss, now a U.S. Senator, who was whining on Olberman about mean GOP tactics in the Senate. But I finally was able to distract her with some skillful use of my lips and tongue long enough for her to have a pleasant little orgasm. Then another one.

But when I was done, and queried about the removal of my cage?

"We can do that later Slave."

Ouch.

Around 10 pm as we were fading away, I rose from the bed and she noticed that my cage was still on.

"Oh, dear. I guess I forgot about that, didn't I, Slave."

I think her symparthy was ALMOST sincere.

I walked over to her side of the bed and she picked up her little key and unlocked me.

'Thank you, Mistress."

I was allowed to service her once more before sleep, this time with fingers sliding between thighs squeezed tightly together.

Was I to be rewarded?

She rolled over, instructed me to press my cock between her ass cheeks, now so very smooth and tempting after her waxing.

"Good night, Slave."

Argh.

Hope she is not too disappointed when she learns there was no way I could get that ring over tightly contracted balls this morning. That's what happens after a day of denial.

"Mr. Wizard" Strikes Out.

Today is my Abstinence Day, which is fitting. Mistress has two acts of Slave misfeasance to consider, based on yesterday’s activities, and every reason to withhold privileges, at least until tomorrow.

Things started nicely. After I diligently slid my steel ring on yesterday morning, I was rewarded with the opportunity to pleasure Mistress’s naked cunt with my tongue and lips, and then make love to her.

She had been under the weather Monday evening (and was still a little sickly), but generously let me have my way with her. Slave gets so much sex that going almost 24 hours without an orgasm seems like a draught. So when I did reach my point of explosion, gripped tightly at the base of my balls by the steel ring….well…zounds.

“Thank, you, Mistress.”

“You’re welcome Slave. That seemed like a big one.”

“Oh yeah….”

Soon I was off to work, cage locked on tight. It was a beautiful day here, so I came home a bit early to fit in a bike ride before family (including grandkids) arrived for dinner.

Once home, Mistress unlocked my cage. (riding a bike with that lump of steel clinging to my crotch is …challenging, to say the least.). We changed onto our biking cloths and off we went.

After our 30 minute ride, I dived into dinner prep. Vegetarian red sauce for the pasta I had planned. Lots of chopping and sautéing. Then, just before our guests were to arrive, I went up to our room to change into something less sweaty.

Well readers, what was missing here?

When I got upstairs, Mistress was dressing too, in black panties and bra. It was 6:25. Guests arriving at 6:30.

I slid out of my biking shorts, reached for my jeans.

“Did you forget something, Slave?”

Oops.

“Weren’t you going to worship this afternoon?”

“Sorry, Mistress.”

I helped her slide down those silky black panties as she sat on our bed. I slid a pillow under my aging knees, and went to work.

“I probably deserve a punishment, don’t I Mistress?”

“I believe you do.”

I still haven’t taken for granted Mistress’s smooth new look. It seems to make her juices even sweeter. And as I enjoyed her flavors, she soon was bucking against my mouth, satisfied, at least for now.

Later that evening, after the guests were gone and we were in bed, watching the latest episode of “Damages”, I mentioned to Mistress the blog I had read earlier that day from our friend “strivingforpeace” at “Peacefully Submissive.” Here it is, in case you missed it. Peacefully Submissive- M#AF88F8

Her Master, the inventive, if elusive, Mr. C, had used both a crystal cock and a Magic Wand to induce a rather dramatic effect on his devoted (and cleverly eloquent) Sub. And since we had both of those tools of delight and torment (depending on one’s approach) readily available at bed side, it seemed only right to see if we could duplicate their experiment and get the same results.

After the episode was over, I switched off the TV, and turned to Mistress. We engaged in some vanilla-ish foreplay involving some kissing, nipple sucking and fingers exploring between Mistress’s firm, smooth thighs. The pump was primed.

I rolled over, made sure the Magic Wand (aka, power tool, or WMO) was plugged in and ready. Then I pulled the crystal cock out of its elegant box.

“What are you doing, Slave.”

“Remember, the “Wand meets Wand” experiment.”

She groaned.

“You’re crazy.”

“Just trying to find new ways to drive YOU crazy, Mistress.”

She settled back, legs spread (hardly a new pose for Mistress).

I slid down between those legs, using my tongue to very gently tease her clit, while probing with the hard crystal cock to find the proper angle of attack.

“I feel something cold down there, Slave.”

“Oh, it will warm up nicely.”

And it did. Soon the firm glass phallus with its little pink ribs was sliding very smoothly in and out of her damp opening, and her hips were rising to meet the tongue that was still focused on the lightest touch against her tender little nub of flesh.

She was getting close. It was now “Wand meets Wand” time.

I disengaged my tongue, rose a bit and reached to the floor for the motorized wand.

“Uhhhh, unfair. Now what, Slave?”

Mistress was not happy with the temporary hold I had placed on her pleasure.

But I quickly found the next instrument of torment, and switched it on.

Holding the crystal cock in place, buried deep inside. I pressed the churning white ball at the end of the Power Tool against the glass bulb protruding from Mistress’s succulent “tunnel of love”.

The result was supposed to be nirvana-esque, as the vibrations were channeled along and against the glass intruder parked deep inside her.

But, no big surprise here, the subject of my experiment is wired a little differently than our friend “strivingforpeace”.

Mistress was squirming all right, but not exactly writhing with pleasure.

“Not working for me, Slave. It feels like I am stuffed with too many things.”

I took the cue, slid the crystal cock out of her, and went to work with the power tool on her neatly shaved cock.

“Ummmmm. Much better Slave.”

Soon Mistress was coming with a moan of delight, and then reaching for my fleshy and firm human cock.

“Why don’t you fuck me now Slave”, Mistress whispered, her voice clouded with post-orgasmic content.

“Patience, Mistress.”

I have learned that the best orgasms are the ones pried from Mistress when she thinks she is done.

With a little more pressure of the power tool against her squirming hips, Mistress’s grip on me loosened, and soon her head was back against the pillow, and her thighs were squeezing the device for all it was worth.

One more orgasm.

“enough….”

I pretended I did not hear her.

But after the third one, I showed some “mercy”, and took up her invitation.

But now I think you understand why Mistress means business on this Abstinence Day.

(As for the experiment, my guess is that we missed a vital part: “strivingforpeace” was tightly bound spread eagle style to the bed in her “Wand meets Wand” scenario. I may have to try this again on our Swtich Day).

Back in the "Friendly Confines"

My steel cage was back on yesterday after a few days of merciful amnesty.

I worked and mushed my balls, then my cock through the hard steel ring in the morning before climbing back into bed with a waking, slightly groggy, Mistress. She likes the affect she can achieve with the ring gripping me, trapping the blood.

Once she uses her skills to make me hard I stay that way for some time. It fills her cunt more completely. It makes it more difficult for me to come. And when I do? Well the result is rather …. Dramatic.

After we had our way with one another, I was off to the shower. Then I slid the cage over my cock, sliding it onto the short stud protruding from the ring, sliding the pad lock into place, and letting Mistress close the lock. I was safe and secure for the day until she chose to release me.

Later, after lunch, Mistress stopped by for a “visit”. She had some time to kill between meetings, and I was looking forward to my opportunity for some worship, something that is all the more fun with her freshly waxed and delightfully naked cunt.

Mistress had on her winter uniform of black dress, tights and boots, though the tights were a little sheerer than normal. She sat. I knelt. We talked a bit. Then I used my mouth and tongue to taste the insides of Mistress thighs and the crotch of her tights. It’s easy to get into full “slave mode” in that position.

When the scent of Mistress’s arousal became more pronounced, I helped her slide those tights down to her boot tops, then went to work in earnest on her delicious parts, now more accessible than ever, the little pink bud poking out between her full lips.

Mistress’s hands were wound into my hear, fingers kneading my scalp, as my lips sucked that little bud into my mouth, and her hips rose in response. By the time I was done my face and the little blanket she was sitting on were soaked with her juices. And my cock was straining against its tight enclosure.

Mistress arrived home a little later than normal last night, after me. We rested a bit, catching up on the nation’s slow descent into socialism (not) on the evening news. I offered to worship, but Mistress demurred.

“I need to rest a bit Slave. You served me well this afternoon.”

I had no complaint. But I do feel its my obligation to offer. It’s in the contract, after all.

It was not until after dinner that Mistress remembered.

“Your cage. I forgot to unlock it! Is that why you were so anxious to worship me, Slave?”

“No. No problem. It’s not uncomfortable”.

And it wasn’t, though it can be a little tight in the mornings. Hard to figure why there is a time -of -day difference. I think my balls just relax a bit better by midday. They get used to their “surroundings” and settle in.

But Mistress was merciful. She found the key and unlocked me, giving me a little kiss for my “suffering in silence.”

As I slid off the cage and eased my tender balls out of the ring, I felt like her little puppy dog. But who’s to complain. I’m well fed, have a very warm bed to sleep in, and Mistress gladly takes care of my “baser” needs.

That’s why the first thing I did this morning is slide that steel ring back on, ready for Mistress when she calls.

Enjoying Mistress's New Look

Mistress’s submission to her new Dom has provided (at least) one very nice fringe benefit for her Slave: that smooth, hairless look that resulted from his instructions to her last week, and her visit to the waxer.

It can be an endless source of amusement to me, and has increased in a way that I thought was impossible my desire to pleasure her, even to the point where she has been forced to tell me “enough” more than once these last few days.

She requires me to wear no underwear when we are in bed, so lounging about yesterday, obsessed by the goings on in Congress, it was natural for me to press against her, my cock nestling between to hairless crack between her cheeks. It seemed I was almost always throbbing, on the edge of erection.

And my fingers seemed to have a life of their own, always wanting to dip between Mistress’s thighs, to remind myself how smooth she is, and to poke a bit between her folds, teasing at her clit, exploring for some tell tales signs of her arousal.

Yesterday evening, I was reprimanded.

“You can feel all you want, but don’t try to arouse me Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.” (sulk).

Well it’s not like I had been shut out over the weekend. On Saturday morning, I was allowed to try out the Magic Wand on her clean shaven parts for the first time.

“How’s that, Mistress?”, I asked as I slid the churning white ball between her legs.

“Ahhhh …. It’s even more sensitive Slave.”

Soon I had her thrusting against it, writhing to a lovely, dramatic orgasm.

I already wrote about the nice ass fucking she gave me Saturday afternoon.

Then there was yesterday morning. We had been out late with some new, seemingly vanilla friends, singing along to bad versions of 80’s rock as we closed a local dive. Drinking a tad more than usual for us. So we were both a little groggy when we woke up.

It was my normal switch day, but it seemed neither of us had the energy for anything too elaborate. But I certainly wanted my chance to play with Mistress’s good parts, and their new look.

As she read my blog entry de jour, I buried my head between her legs, enjoying the ready access that her new look gives me, all moist and pink and succulent. And once she put the computer down, she seemed pleased with my efforts, giving me permission to fuck her once she had been thoroughly serviced.

Soon I was off to visit some family members, a weekend duty.

But as I drove around I entertained myself with thoughts of Mistress and her new look, and how her friend would inspect her at their next engagement. I pictured her standing, legs spread, hands bound behind her, eyes closed, as he took his time sliding fingers over, across and into her. No doubt he would comment on how deliciously wet and available she was. A needy little slut, indeed.

Those thoughts made me want to get home ASAP.



Later that afternoon, after my family duties were accomplished, we were back in bed, me reading the Times and Mistress napping. When she woke we were planning a bike ride. But before that I had something else in mind.

“Would it be all right if I tasted you again, Mistress.”

She indulged me. And I recall her hands gripping my hair as I sought to please her, as I pondered her description of her master doing this with her 69 style last week.

When Mistress was satisfied, I slid up next to her and her hand reached for my cock, already hard.

“So you like my new look Slave?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Her fingers were driving me crazy, gripping my balls. Sliding gently along the shaft of my cock.

“Why, Slave?”

It’s hard to articulate all the reasons, Mistress, particularly when you are driving me crazy like that. Can I just fuck you?”

“Aww. Poor Slave. I thought you liked this.”

The fingers kept up their devious work.

“Give me just one reason, and I will consider letting you fuck me.”

“Well…. Because you did it to please him Mistress. Because he required it and you felt a need to comply.”

“Yes, that’s true Slave.”

She released her grip. And then I was allowed my reward.

I really am her Slave. And she knows it.

Slave Gets A Reprimand

Slave deserved, and received, a bit of punishment yesterday.

It had been a couple of weeks. Mistress is actually pretty easy going with me. Other than the cage locked on my cock most work days, it might be hard to tell my status as her Slave. To the outside world we are a well functioning couple, with demanding jobs, somehow managing to balance it all in a collaborative way.

But Mistress always deserves deference, respect and obedience when she makes it clear what her wishes may be.

Yesterday we went for a long bike ride in warm spring like weather here in River City. Half way through our ride, Mistress spotted a friend out with her new puppy in their front yard. She elected to stop and chat. And chat.

The subject turned from the cute dog to some work related drama, and her friend, who knew some of the dramatists involved, was offering advice.

At some point, I must have gotten a little “bored” looking (well I was bored), dealt with some voice messages, and then suggested we might want to get on our way.

Mistress shot me a look. And somehow the conversation turned to the subject of men always expecting to get their way. Her friend commented that her own husband always expects to be “in charge”.

“Well, Mick likes to be in charge too, don’t you?”

Oh dear. I knew where this was going.

“No. Actually I Molly gets her way most of the time. I live to serve her.”

The tone was light and Mistress’s friend laughed. But I could tell Mistress was not pleased.

“Actually, Mick has been more more co-operative lately.”

She gave me the look that suggested that “I will deal with you later, Slave.”

After a few more minutes of chat, we were off to finish our ride, and after some errands and time in the sun, Mistress suggested that we adjourn to our bedroom. The teens were out so we had some private time.

“You need some ass fucking, don’t you Slave?”

“I guess I do, Mistress.”

“It’s been two weeks. That may explain your bad attitude today.”

Well it probably did. Sometimes a Slave needs to be shown his place in more direct terms, or can get a little full of himself.

Mistress slid into her harness, which neatly clung to that now naked crotch. I stripped.

“Hmmm. It does feel a little differently with the hair gone, Slave.”

We snuggled, kissed and fondled a bit. Mistress made sure my cock was firm and ready before she told me to roll onto my stomach and assume the position that gives her access to me. The lubricant was generously applied.

As she mounted me, Mistress had me beg a bit.

“You want this, don’t you Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress. I do.”

“Why is that Slave?”

Of course, by now I was anxious to get on with it. My cock was pressing against the pillow slid under my hips. I could feel Mistress’s faux cock hovering between my ass cheeks. It was a little hard to focus on the psychological explanation for why some oldster like me enjoys having his hot younger wife take him in this way. So I took the easier path.

“It makes me a better Slave, Mistress.”

“Yes, it does. So why don’t you beg me then, Slave?”

“Please fuck me in the ass, Mistress…”

“Of course, Slave. That’s exactly what I am going to do.”

Mistress quickly found her mark. And when she slid into me, the jolt seemed to extend to the full length of the already hardened cock that pressed against that pillow. Soon I was rising to meet her thrusts. And Mistress was coming once, then twice. I think she likes it every bit as much as I do.



When she had her fill she pulled away, but she was not done with me just yet.

“Stay there, Slave. You need some punishment.”

This was new. By now I was just hoping to fuck mistress and get the release she already had at my ass’s expense.

She stood, and I could hear her reaching for that long wooden shoe horn that is looped over a bedroom chair.

“I did not like your attitude today, Slave. When I am talking to a friend you need to be patient and respectful.”

Thwack. Thwack.

Ouch.

“Yes Mistress. I did act badly. I will be more patient in the future.”

Thwack.

“Yes, you will.”

She was done. Her punishment certainly could have been worse. But her point had been made. Then she had me get up and insert that little white probe.

“I want a very hard cock now, Slave.”

That would not be a problem.

Readers Weigh in on Mistress's "Transgression"

Earlier this week, Mistress got an email from her Dom with some instructions for their St. Patrick’s Day “appointment”.

She normally had sported a generous “bush”. Nothing too wild or wooly. But there was hair there.

In an apparent effort to bend her a bit to his will – leave his mark on her so to speak – her Dom told her to trim that bush. He wanted a V-shaped racing stripe. And nothing more.

When Mistress shared the email with me, and asked me to help her accomplish this assignment, it produced a bit of a mess, and some very hot sex. We were both following his order, I suppose.

Then things got a little more interactive. Our friend M from out west saw our posting (and the photo of Mistress’s fur partially covered with shaving cream). He told us that he and his Domme/Wife get Brazilian waxes on a regular basis and find it oh so sexy.

Within a few hours, Mistress was inspired to make an appointment for said waxing. She clearly was into the game and wanted to please her new Dom. And of course her desire to please gave me a thrill too.

But when I returned home that evening, Mistress was a little sheepish. As I knelt for worship time, and she dropped her panties, I learned why: she was completely bare down there. A very, very sexy look. But no “racing stripe”.

Ooops.

“I told them I wanted the full wax, Slave, like M said.”

“I guess you were supposed to tell them about the racing stripe, Mistress.”

I was on my knees, munching by now. Very tasty and wonderfully accessible. It took a while for us to refocus on our conversation.

When we did, it went like this:

“Do you think you will be in trouble with the Dom, Mistress?”

“Maybe, Slave.”

“You may be punished, you know…”

“Hmmm….not sure what I think about that.”

I wondered if Mistress was actually asking to be punished with this little test. She is one to take a little license. She’s definitely a “Give her an inch, and she will take a mile” type of girl.

When I floated this transgression to M via email, he had his own take on what might happen when her Dom discovered the error of her ways:

Ok I'll put on my top hat (so to speak.) Of course he will be thrilled, but act very displeased. I suspect the conversation will go just about (exactly?) like this...

"Why you shameless little slut. I gave you specific instructions to do a simple task.

Reach down and spread your cunt open.

Wider! What is that? I can see it's your bare private parts. Why are they bare?.

NO it’s bare because you are a undisciplined little slut. You got herself all hot and bothered thinking about bare pussy. Yes-- and you decided to titillate yourself while away from me. How many times did you masturbate thinking about this little stunt?

I'll twist your nipple off unless you tell me the truth.

TEN OR TWENTY TIMES?

You horny undisciplined little slut! I'm going to blister your bare bottom.

You think it’s so hot to lock your husband’s cock in a cage. You have 20 times less control than he does. From now on I'm going to control that needy little cunt of yours. Your days of playing with yourself are over. After I finish using your cunt tonight I'm going to lock it up.

Yes you should be scared. I won't tolerate unauthorized masturbation. It's very unlady like. You will need my permission every time you orgasm from now on. Is that clear slave?

Get up on the bed on all fours, and press your tits on the mattress. Reach back and pull your bottom wide open. Look at you..... you should be ashamed of yourself. Yes, that's a stiff, hard, cock rubbing on that bare little cunt and asshole. You should see yourself (you are quite a sight).

Still happy with your little stunt? I'm going to take this belt to your bare bottom until you can't sit down for a week. You can beg all you want I'll will whip your bottom until I am satisfied you have learned your lesson. Then I'm going to use your holes as many times as I like......

Oh look, that makes you wet. How cute.”

As you can tell, M got a bit carried away in his disciplinary measures. Under his wife’s thumb as he is, he clearly needs some time on Top.

We received another message from an anonymous “Domme” who must be a lurker, but who came out of the shadows long enough to share the following:

“So I read your blog today. I would not have been pleased at all about Molly’s not having followed the instructions, had I been the Domme. Slaves do not take it upon themselves to improve upon their instructions in the thought that it might make the dom/me happy. They just follow the instructions. And carelessness in following instructions is equally unacceptable. … I'd have to think of a suitable punishment too.....a spanking is wholly inappropriate for that.”

Another correspondent suggested that Mistress may want to give her Dom a “heads up”, rather than surprise him at her unveiling.


“I don't know her dom --but I recommend a confession prior to the appointment with him -- rather than surprising him

sure -- it'll give him time to come up with something diabolical -- but it will also diffuse the situation

I wonder if he has a sense of humor....”

As it turns out, Mistress says she was reprimanded, and was told to print out the instructions the next time and hand them to her “waxer”. She received a spanking, though she says that it was not too hard to bear. No doubt she was so aroused at the time that her senses may have betrayed her. But her bottom was not red as far as I could tell when she got home that evening.

I am not sure what lesson Mistress has learned from this experience. Will she try to be more scrupulous in following instructions? Or will she test him some more to in hopes of getting the punishment she deserves?

Mistress takes some R & R

Yesterday turned into an Abstinence Day for both Slave and Mistress. Well sort of for Mistress.

I had been let off the hook Wednesday. Both Morning and Evening. Too much sexual tension arising from Mistress’s 2nd “date” with her Dom to abstain on St. Patrick’s Day.

And I suspect Mistress lost count of how many orgasms she had Wednesday, between wake up sex, worship at my office, her extended session with her Dom while I was stuck with the old Irish guys, then me tonguing and fucking her after we both arrived home that evening. What would St. Patrick have said?

So when Mistress woke up Thursday morning, she made it clear that her smooth shaven tunnel of love needed some R & R. I was not permitted my normal morning worship opportunity.

It was a beautiful day here yesterday in River City. So Mistress spent some time working out side, while recharging that long lost tan. She checked in with me during the day. Making sure I was still comfortable with her new adventure. And I assured her that I was. Crazy, maybe. But very comfortable.

When I arrived home, we were determined to take that bike ride we had missed earlier in the week. Who can pass on 70 degrees and the extra daylight?

But I asked Mistress if she would like worship first.

“Yes, Slave, but be gentle.”

And I was. I am still smitten by Mistress’s smooth clean-shaven look. So very smooth and welcoming to tongue and lips. I tossed a pillow on the floor. Mistress lay back, and I gave her delicious parts a thorough tongue massage. No probing fingers, just a light, lengthy and gentle touch.

“How do I taste, Slave. I confess … no shower today. Is that terrible? It was too nice to waste time inside.”

“You’ re Delicious, Mistress”

And of course my taste buds perked up. Searching for the flavors of one man’s fingers and fluids mixing with my own. ….”Interesting”, is the only way I can put it.


I use these opportunities, as I did the evening before, to pursue some un-hostile cross examination of Mistress. She is forthcoming about her encounters. In fact I think she likes to gently taunt me. But sometimes the details need to be pried loose. She may still be a little embarrassed. So I will occasionally lift my tongue away from its mission in order to raise a query or two.

“How did he inspect you Mistress?”

I was referring to her clean-shaven pussy, the one that he had asked to be adorned with a “racing stripe”.

“With his fingers, Slave. It took him a while.”

Were you standing, or on the bed?”

“No he had me. …Over that big ball.” (One of those large exercise balls. Clever.)

“How did that feel, Mistress”?

“A little humiliating, Slave.”

No doubt.

“And did he make you come that way, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. But it took … a while.”

Mistress’s breathing was quickening now. It’s hard for her to talk and come, that’s my way of dragging it out, I suppose.

“Did he make you beg, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. I had to beg.”

Of course.

I had heard enough for the moment. Returning to my task, I ratcheted up my gentle tongue massage to a level that squeezed a lovely orgasm from my oh so very desirable Mistress.

When she came down from that little mini-high, we dressed for our bike ride. It was a spectacularly warm and sunny evening for it. Then, with the surly teens out and about, we prepared a lovely dinner for two. Gnocchi. Pesto. Mushrooms. Green Beans.

Later, in bed, I asked Mistress if there was any soothing goop available that I could use to moisturize her needy little cunt (I think I was more polite about my language at the time). Frankly, I was looking for a good excuse to touch her there. Can’t get enough.

She seemed happy to accommodate my needs, and pointed me to a jar of cocoa butter cream. I took some time rubbing the slippery, aromatic goo into her skin, making sure that all the little folds were well coated. But when my finger “accidentally” took a few twists around her clit, I was reprimanded.

“Do NOT try to arouse me, Slave. I really have had enough.”

“Yes Mistress.”

My finger behaved itself after that.

But it’s a new day now.

HNT /Spaired

Only a short posting this am, dear readers. It was a late night here in the heartland, with me stuck with a bunch of rowdy Irishmen in tuxedos, while Mistress displayed and submitted herself wantonly to her Dom.

On my way to the big event I texted Mistress to let her know I was headed out, and added “are you being slutty, Mistress.”

Sometime later I received her response.

“Of course, Slave.” 

Argh.

Some of you were concerned about how he would handle her failure to follow some rather clear instructions about the trimming of her “bush”. He wanted a racing stripe. Mistress’s waxer took it all off. Oops.

I speculated that Mistress may have been asking for a punishment. And she did receive a bit of a spanking, she reports.  But not too hard.  Or for too long. Instead, he seemed to be taken by the “nary a hair” look. And who wouldn’t be. But he did suggest that she print out the instructions the next time.

Argh.

I learned of this and other details after I stripped off the tux, and knelt to worship her.

“Do I taste different, Slave.”

She was referring to her well used cunt.

Hmmmm? I savored the flavors, like “chewing” a  musky Cab.

  Well, yes, you do Mistress.”

I listened to her story. My cock growing harder which each twist and turn.

There would be more questions later.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

It's March 17th, an important day for the Irish. On your right is Slave's name sake, Michael  Collins, a hero of Irish independence,  who was gunned down for his trouble. No good turn goes unpunished. Particularly on the Emerald Isle.

Soon I will be sliding out of my work garb and into my tux, to attend a local affair for the Irish among us and all those pretenders. It's a stag affair. But nonetheless, Mistress locked me in my cage this morning. can;t be too careful.

Mistress stopped by the office a little before lunch, and allowed me to worship. It was nice to welcome her newly naked cunt to her throne here, and to feast on it.

She seems a bit uncertain about whether it looks good. From my perspective, its amazing. So very smooth, making the good parts so very accessible.

She just called. She's about to have her second encounter with her Dom. She wished me a good evening, and wondered whether I might be a little horny, wondering what she will be up to this evening.

You think?

"Are you nervous, Mistress?"

"Yes, Slave. A little. Not as much as the first time, but still...."

"Are you worried how that inspection will go..."

"Yes. wondering how long it will take."

"I am sure it will be very detailed, Mistress."

"are you OK with this Slave."



"As long as you are Mistress."

"Will you want me when you get home?"

"No doubt. I will want to worship and get all the juicy details."

"I like that part, Slave."



It will be a long night. Hanging with the Irish guys. Thinking about my Mistress.

Clear Cutting

Mick and Molly have enjoyed striking up some conversations with a variety of our readers. You add some perspective and egg us on. So in some ways this blog has become interactive. We hope that we inspire you us as much as you have inspired us.


Our friend M from out West has been particularly enthusiastic of late in sharing some adventures of his own. Here is what he said after Monday’s posting with a picture of Mistress tied to our bed:

“The switch day pictures are always my favorites, because they always feature Molly's beauitful ass. I must still have a lot more of the dom in me than I admit.

B had a long "conversation" with me over her lap this morning about toping from the bottom. She claims I so it all the time and she doesn't approve. She claims I am still very dominant. She used her hairbrush harder than she ever has to drive home this failing on my part. She said "you don't like this spanking at all do you slave." MO MAMM!!! She said good and proceeded to spank longer and harder. I was pleading and begging her to stop promising to never be dominant again.. She totally ignored me and just kept blistering my bare bottom. B doesn't believe in safe words for spanking and I don't have one. As she says, “wouldn't be a real spanking If I could stop it...would it slave??? “

She then had me get her "huge blue cock". I really is very big 8 inches long and 6 inches around. B said a good long hard fucking may be just the ticket to make me more submissive. She fucked me VERY hard and VERY long. After she came as many times as she wanted she made me "service her bottom." She said that was another good submissive act for her slave to do to reinforce his submission. WOW what a morning. She finally allowed her slave to fuck her and get some relief!.

I'm in love! The harder she uses me the more I love her??? Take care M “

But yesterday, Mistress may have taken that inspiration thing a bit too far. As mentioned yesterday, her new Dom had given her some very specific instructions about how he wanted her bush trimmed before their next encounter (which is this evening). His instructions called for a thin racing stripe of hair running from the top of her lips toward her belly button, a little wider at the top than at the bottom.

We had some “fun” (as described in yesterday’s post) complying with his instructions, and I thought we had done a pretty good job. Later yesterday, M wrote back describing how he and his wife/ Domme get Brazilian waxes to deal with these issues:

“Yes, I think I have told you guys I have been shaving and more reciently getting brazialian waxs for several years. B gets waxed once a month,,, not brazialian but pretty short and close. Its FUCKING HOT. I couldn't reccomend it more highly. Not that you guys need any more way to make yourselves hot..”

Well, Mistress had a little extra time on her hands yesterday, so inspired by M and no doubt anxious to impress her Dom, she made an appointment for late yesterday afternoon. She was going for the wax, a first for her. When I passed that on to M he had some suggestions on what to ask for:

“I think [the Dom] will LOVE it! I think you will too. Most important I think Molly will be very pleased. FYI Molly in... "waxing terms" I would recommend the complete Brazilian including the butt crack and just leave a short triangle right over the genitals. Have them take all the hair to each side of the labia, and all of it from around the anus. HOT. you will love it!”

Well I passed these instructions on, and Mistress was off on her quest.

But when I got home, Mistress was a little red faced when I asked to see the results.

As she lowered her panties, what she revealed was, as M promised, very very hot. But there was a problem: all of her hair was now gone. No little racing stripe.

It was her first time, and it seems she had failed to convey all of the details of M’s instructions.

I was anxious to take Mistress’s new look for a test drive. Quickly her panties were off, she was lying across our bed, and I was on my knees for some worship time.

She was soooo smooth. And her clit was soooo available.

“Did it turn you on when they did this Mistress?

“Yes, a little Slave.”

Right. “ A little.”

My tongue teased, sliding across her.

“Why, Mistress.”

“The thought of him … and you, of course, inspecting me, Slave.”

It was nice to be included.

Soon Mistress was coming for me, her hips thrusting against my head, my face wet from her flowing juices. And not a threat of getting a loose pube stuck in my teeth.

Would you be surprised to know that we then jettisoned our plans for a bike ride so that we could more fully explore Mistress’s new look and texture?

But the elephant in the room is this: Will Dom be happy with the new look? Or will there be punishment in store because Mistress failed to follow instructions?

Trimmed

Sunday was a busy day here for Mick and Molly.

I ended yesterday’s entry at the conclusion of our Switch ritual. And I appreciated the warm comments from some faithful followers. But things got a bit edgier not much later that day….

We bundled up for a long bike ride – the early spring did not last long here in River City. When we arrived home, I was heading to the shower,  planning on my weekly visit to my annoying, elderly Mother across town. As I emerged from the shower, I saw Mistress sitting on our bed, looking up from her laptop.  Pensive.

“Well, Slave, I got some instructions from the Dom for our meeting on Wednesday.”

Hmmm.

“And what are they, Mistress.”

“Maybe you should look.”

I peered over her shoulder. And well, Blushed a bit. Started to stiffen.

Mistress’s directions involved a very precise trimming of her “bush”. He was looking for a “racing stripe”,  v-shaped, with the wider section up top.  Then there was a parting comment about his longing for her soft lips on his cock.

“What do you think, Mistress?”

“I think you should help me do this today, Slave.”

“OK. (gulp) …., happily Mistress.”

Mistress was up from the bed now, and clung to me. Grinding a bit. Kissing. It was pretty obvious to me that the Dom’s email had lit some type of fuse that was burning with a purpose.

And here I was, with a scheduled visit to “Mom”.

“I think I want you now, Slave.”

And of course I wanted her. But I am boringly responsible and knew that I better get dressed, over to my Mother’s condo, and back ASAP. Somehow I extricated myself from Mistress’s embrace and raced off. Though I must say that as I chatted with Mother about her week’s annoyances, it was hard not to think about my upcoming engagement with a razor, and how steamy Mistress had become at the thought of surrendering her grooming prerogatives to another guy.

By the time I arrived home I was in a high state of anticipation. As it turned out, Molly’s mother had stopped by while I was gone, but the coast was now clear. Even the teens were off, exploiting their driving privileges.

We quickly agreed to defer some tax return work we both had planned and adjourn to the bedroom.  The email was re-opened to make sure we got his instructions right (or was it because Mistress wanted to re-read that “lips on cock” line one more time?)

I spread a towel on the bed. Retrieved a new razor and some scissors, and unearthed a can of shaving cream.

This was my first foray into pubic grooming. And Mistress warned me to be very careful. Of course, the last thing I wanted to do was nick Mistress’s delicate parts.

I began at the edges, trimming with the scissors, then taking off the stubble with the razor. It was delicate work. And I must say Mistress’s not so subtle squirming did not help with the required precision.

“I think I really need an orgasm, Slave”, she whispered, as I went about my work.

“Patience, Mistress. We want to make sure he’s pleased, don’t we?”

I used a finger to gently part her lips and discovered just how wet and ready she was. That evoked a subtle moan and quiver. Mistress’s eyes were closed when I looked up at her.  This had become a form or torture that was every bit as much fun as that morning’s switch.

Of course, I was getting more than a little horny myself. I tried to focus on the task at hand. Using a wet cloth to wipe away the shaving cream a few times to make sure that the required design was taking shape.

The thought of his initial inspection, to see if she had followed his instructions, was a bit excruciating. And I wondered what sort of punishment might be inflicted if he was displeased.

I finished up the job as best I could, thinking that we might re-visit the next day to tie up any “loose hairs”. Cleaning Mistress off one last time I settled my head between her legs.

What I discovered was a much clearer path to the promised land. Without all that fur, Mistress’s lips and clit were there for me to exploit more directly.  And my tongue stretched out for its first taste of the new landscape. Wonderful. Why hadn’t we done this sooner?

But Mistress was not looking for the light, teasing touch at this point.

She had been agitated and aroused for the last 3 hours. Ever since she had popped open that incendiary email.

“Would you like me to deploy the power tool, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave.”  Wow. Twice in one day. That’s a new one.

It was still plugged in at the side of the bed.  I switched it on. No teasing or taunting this time. I went straight for the newly trimmed territory. Within moments, Mistress’s head was thrown back, her hips were pumping against the buzzing device. As my mouth clung to her right nipple, her hand reached down to press the Magic Wand even harder against her cunt. Then she exploded against it. At last.

And she was more than happy to let me take my turn at her. I recall her commenting on how hard my cock was, but I don’t remember much more than my own satisfying explosion a few minutes later. We both collapsed on the bed. A nap ensued. Very nice.

Later that day, after the bits of hair were swept away from our bed, Mistress told me she had sent a brief email response to the Dom:

“Mission accomplished”.

Let’s hope he’s satisfied. Too.

Forced

Both Mistress and Slave slept a little later than normal Sunday morning, after being out at a later than normal for a party, and adjusting to the dreaded “spring forward” loss of an hour.

Mistress had been dressed Saturday night in one of her Domme-ish uniforms: black tights and boots, a short black dress highlighted by a long turquoise scarf. She turned more than a few heads at a party where guests had been told to wear “pajamas”. Of course, had Mistress actually worn her sleepwear, jaws would have dropped on those turning heads.

When we got home from the party, we were both a little tired and a good bit tipsy. So there was no sex. But Mistress, asked if she should keep her tights on. I have a bit of a fetish in that department, so was glad to sidle up to her in bed, naked as she requires, my cock pressing against the sensuous fabric that covered her strong legs and firm bottom.

The papers were spread across the bed, and both of us were still a tad groggy. But with the surly teens still out at “sleepovers”, I knew I should not lose my opportunity to pounce. It was my “switch” day.



I shared a paragraph from our contract yesterday. Here is the pertinent portion of the contract governing our Sunday AM rituals:


“5. On Sunday mornings for at least 2 hours, and at other times of the week, upon agreement of the parties, Mistress will submit completely and totally to slave, as if she was the Slave and he was the Master/Owner of her under the terms of this agreement.”

I go pretty easy on Mistress most Sunday mornings. And since we were both still a bit groggy, it seemed that this Sunday would be particularly easy duty for her. I pulled out our leather cuffs, locked them on, and affixed them to opposite ends of a long leather strap that wraps around the head of our bed. As the photo shows, her legs were free, her arms lazily spread apart. She had a good range of movement, though it would have been challenging for her to roll over. Hardly stringent bondage, but at least she understood that she was “at my mercy.”

I retrieved our “power tool” from the closet where it is kept to limit raised eyebrows and plugged it in. Mistress raised her eyebrows. She always likes that form of therapy.

Sitting next to her on the bed, I began to fondle her tight ass, making her squirm. I rewarded her squirming with an occasional hard slap to her bottom. That only made her squirm a little more.

“That hurts, Slave.”

“Baloney. You love it.”

I got no denial.

Straddling her I rubbed her shoulders and back. Those generated sighs of contentment.

After Mistress seemed both relaxed and content in her restraints, I reached for the Magic Wand.

My first strokes were to her back and shoulders. Mistress’s lower back can get a little achy. The combination of all that biking and all that sex are probably to blame. So that part of her got particular attention.

Then I mover to her legs, and as the wand played across her inner thighs, the squirming resumed. And I could detect the appealing scent of her arousal.

“I can smell you Mistress. You’re getting a little anxious aren’t you.”

“How do I smell, Slave.”

“Delicious.”

Then I dipped the tool to her right foot, playing it across its lovely curved arch. The reaction was immediate.

“Hey….stop that.” Her foot tried to squirm away. A discovery: Mistress’s foot was ticklish and the tool was driving her crazy.

Like the crazy Congressman from NY, I had to take advantage. There ensued a few minutes of Mistress straining at her bonds, and me grabbing her foot with one hand and applying the wand with another. It’s always nice to discover a new way to “torture” my occasional “Slave”.

And I particularly enjoyed ignoring her “demands” that I stop.

All that squirming also seemed to be taking its toll on Mistress’s cunt. Her breathing was more rapid. The scent of her arousal was more pronounced. So it became hard for me to resist, releasing her foot to get to some of the better parts.

As the Wand slid up Mistress’s black tighted thigh, her body tensed. She knew what was coming.

With her hands tied, she still had the ability to move her hips, and with the wand pressed under her and between her legs, Mistress’s movements became more frantic, with her thighs gripping hard against my hand and the buzzing tool it held.

Soon Mistress was tipped over the edge, moaning into her pillow. She hugged the device too her until she was done with both the main event and a series of aftershocks.

Then her muscles relaxed.

“Enough Slave.”

But I was not quite done with her.

Rather than pulling the Wand away, I began to press it against her again, rubbing gently, then more insistently.

“what are you doing, Slave?”

“I’m not so sure you’ve had enough, Mistress.”

I was going to force another one out of her. And I think she liked the idea that she was not in charge of this one.

Soon Mistress was more in the spirit of my re-assault, her hips sliding too and fro against the device. And then she was moaning and writhing all over again.

I cuddled against her, turning off the Wand. I had made my point. Then I released her and helped her roll over.

I was not quite done.