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.