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.