When Blog Worlds and Real Worlds Collide

Yesterday Mistress had a work related road trip, to the north land of our flat, boring state. The upside for me was that she did not have to hit the road quite as early as is her norm these days. Which means we had time for some morning “action”.

With Mistress away, she was naturally concerned that her Slave not stray, so I had been ordered to wear my cage. I made sure to grab the hard steel ring it mounts on when I got up to make my latte and do my morning essay (including posting that hideous picture). I smushed my parts through and snugged it tight before the package had the opportunity to contract in our cool morning air here in the heartland.

By the time I was done writing, I was already rather horny for Mistress. I mean, it had been almost 10 hours!  As Mistress read my opus and laughed at the picture of my reddened butt, I slid my head under the covers and massaged her naked cunt with my tongue. That seemed to make her purr even more than the whiney cats who seemed determined to break our mood.

Once Mistress put down the laptop I completed the job, and was rewarded with the opportunity to fuck her.

It had been a while since I had been required to do it with the hard steel cock gripping my cock and balls. The larger I get, the tighter the grip, of course. So pleasure mixes with a bit of discomfort, though Mistress says that my cock gets particularly firm for her when I am equipped that way. So who can complain.

As I took her that way, holding her arms above her head, we ruminated a bit on her experiences with her Dom, who she hopes to meet up with again net week.

“I can’t help but think of how he took you from behind, bent over that picnic table, Mistress.”

“Why ….does that bother you Slave?”

“No …I guess I get turned on thinking of that…was it …hot, Mistress?”

“Oh yes Slave. Very Hot. “

“Are you wondering what he has in store for you next, Mistress?”

“I am, Slave.”

The steel ring not only makes me harder. It also makes it a bit more of a challenge to come. But when I did, with Mistress’s permission, of course, the results were … thunderous.

Soon I was off to work, and Mistress took a bike ride before she hit the road for her meeting up north. When I got to work, I noticed an email from one of our favorite correspondents, M from out west, who likes to stoke the fires for us a bit with his imaginings of adventures for Molly and Mick.

Here is a portion of what he wrote us:

“Here is how Molly’s new job could get more interesting.  Her new boss would be a very strict and firm man.   The new rule would be Molly would have to report to his office each day at 11:00 AM.  She would be required to strip naked and get up on his desk, spread her legs and masturbate while he watched.  

When she was ready to cum she would have to ask if she could cum.  He would say no, get down on your knees and suck my cock and make it hard.  He would grab her hair and pinch her nipples as she sucked.  Then he would order her around in front of his desk and have her bend over and grab the far side of the desk.  He would take off his belt and give her a good hard strapping on her bare bottom.  Then he would roughly pull her cheeks apart and thrust his big cock in her pussy, taking his pleasure while warning her not to cum.  Then he would have her pull her bottom wide open while he pushed a small butt plug deep in her bottom.  ‘We will train you over time to take bigger and bigger plugs until finally you can take my cock and I can use you that way.  Now  get dressed and go have lunch with your husband’, he said with a big smile on his face. ‘I know what you two do in his office every day, and come back at 4:00 so I can remove the plug and use you again.’”

Provocative, to say the least.

Molly seemed amused when I gave her a synopsis of the story on the phone, and I suggested that she read it on her I-phone (though only after she had parked her car).  I also had another suggestion:

“Why don’t you give M a call, it will help pass the time, keep you awake on the long drive back this evening.”

“Hmmm….would he mind?”

“I think he’d enjoy hearing from the famous Molly.”

“Maybe….”

WE had M’s real name and it was not hard to find his number. I sent it via text to Mistress.

Later that afternoon, Molly called me back on her drive home. 

“Well, I talked to M.”

“How was that, Mistress.”

“Fun. We talked about our mutual ‘challenges’, the blog, skiing. Maybe all of us getting together sometime this summer. (M has a wife who takes charge too.) I think he was surprised to hear from me.”

No doubt.

“How was his voice, Mistress?”

Voices are important to Molly.

“Nice, Slave.”

When Molly got home she was bone tired from that long drive. She got a long massage from her Slave, with particular attention to back, neck and feet.

But by now she is well rested, and I am hoping that more than a massage is in order before we head to work.

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HNT / NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE.

On Thursdays, I usually share a revealing photo of my Mistress (with her approval of course). The private (via email) and public comments I get are often quite appreciative. Mistress has some lovely parts and her fans like to see them.

Sadly, today I am sharing something else. Yes, that’s my reddened bottom. Mistress figured that the spanking she gave me, coupled by the embarrassment of having to post the evidence would teach me a lesson.

And while it’s a lesson I had already learned, repetition can be a good re-enforcement, like the way the nuns in 7th grade made us recite those damned multiplication tables every morning. I am never at a loss when it comes to the question: “What is 6 x 7”.

Yesterday started well until Mistress perused the twitter page of the woman I mistakenly became involved with about 2 years ago, while we were doing that whole commuter marriage thing. Our readers know that is what led to our “contract”, and my agreement to become Mistress’s slave. That woman (TW) is someone I have left behind as part of ancient history.

But Mistress continues to have a morbid curiosity about her. She can’t resist the urge to keep track of her. And since TW is the type of person Twitter was made for: so narcissistic that she likes to share the banal details of her daily life for the world to marvel over. So it’s almost too easy for Mistress to “follow” her.

What Mistress found yesterday was a posting of a photo of a movie star to whom it has been said I bear an uncanny resemblance. There was one word attached by TW : “handsome”. Ugh.

When Mistress showed this to me, we both were aghast. Mistress does not like the thought that someone out there is a “menace” to us. I don’t like the thought that TW is intentionally trying to annoy or provoke us, since she likely assumes that we and thousands of others out there in twitter-land are breathlessly following her exploits.

So Mistress was pissed, and deservedly so.

When we got in the car for the ride home at the end of the workday, I could tell that this subject had been gnawing at her. It made me feel badly.

“Maybe I should be punished, Mistress.”

I knew it would be better for her to vent her anger in a constructive, physical way, rather than internalize it.

“Yes, Slave. That’s exactly what I had in mind.”

After a robust bike ride on a beautifully cool but sunny day, we went up to our room. The surly teens were at a soccer game. So there was no reason to “stifle”. That turned out to be a good thing.

Mistress told me to strip and stretch out on our bed, face down. She reached for the riding crop.

“You know why you are being punished, don’t you Slave.”

“Yes Mistress. For mistakenly bringing that woman into our life.”

“She is a menace, Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress, I agree.”

She lit into me with purpose. More fiercely than I can recall.

As the thwacks increased in tempo and number, I began to squirm. I almost wished that she had tied me down. But then maybe she likes to test me this way. I resisted the powerful urge, prompted by the pain, to roll away, or off ,the bed. That would not have been well received.

“Owww….That hurts, Mistress.”

“It’s supposed to Slave.”

When she finally was done – after maybe 15-20 strokes of the crop - she told me to be still and reached for her I-phone / camera.

“You are going to post this in the morning, Slave.”

“But I don’t think our readers want to see my ugly bottom, Mistress. They like you much better.”

I thought some flattery might earn me a reprieve. But I was wrong.

“No. I want you to be embarrassed. That’s a part of your punishment.”

So there you have me. In all my puffy, late 50’s glory. Yuck.

Fortunately, Mistress was in the mood for some sexual release after my punishment.

After I used my mouth to give her a first orgasm, she toyed with my cock with her fingers, making me very hard, and even more desperate for her. But we had not resolved the issue of Abstinence Day.

“Can I fuck you Mistress?”

“I probably should make you wait until morning, Slave.”

Her fingers did that light stroking thing to my fully engorged cock as I lay there. It took a great deal of will power to resist the urge to mount her without permission, or yank away that tormenting hand.

“But … you… are… driving … me … crazy, Mistress.”

I did not want to embarrass myself further my shooting my wad into the air. But I was close. So very close.

“Alright, Slave….you may fuck me.”

Ahhhh.

As we made love we talked a bit about her plans to meet with Sir M next week.

“You miss that extra cock, don’t you Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave. The variety is nice.”

Fortunately, mine was the cock de jour. And despite the (by then) fading pain in my bottom, I hoped that Mistress also felt better after a rude start to our day.

Come and Run

Mistress stopped by on her way to lunch yesterday. She was pressed for time.

“Very Busy day, Slave.”

She was in a relatively short black dress with a matching sweater. And her knickers were already coming down as I pulled the chair against the door.

“Sorry I did not have a chance to call earlier, Slave.”

“No apologies required, Mistress. I have been pretty busy too.”

By now I was on my knees, spreading her legs. Ready to feast.

It was not long before Mistress was squirming. Stifling her moans for fear of disturbing my office mates.

Are her parts well trained? Or am I the one who has been well trained?

When she had her fill, she was back to business.

I walked her to the elevator bank.

“Sorry to come and run, Slave.”

“Just happy you could stop by Mistress.”

She joined some of my colleagues in the elevator, all on their way to lunch engagements. I waved goodbye to them all as the doors slid closed.

But had I remembered to wipe off my face?

Soothing a Restless Mistress

We were on the way to work, me driving, Mistress scanning her emails, getting ready for a very busy day.

“Last night I had a dream that we were with some people – family I think – and you got a call, Mistress. You gave me that ‘look’. .Said you had to excuse your self and take the call. It was clear it was one of your ‘friends’.”

“Hmmm….it’s good for you to be a little jealous, Slave.”

I suppose it is. Keeps me on my toes. And the thought of it and Mistress’s response got me a tad horny that morning, and kept me that way through the day.

It was a cageless day for me. But I am well trained. It did not occur to me to do something about my sexual edge without permission, even though I had access.

And when Mistress and I met it was with a business associate. I could only admire her in her way over the knee black dress, bare legs, and tasteful lady executive shoes. The best I got was a chance to run my hand up her leg while our friend excused himself for the men’s room.

So at the end of the day, once Mistress came down from the stress of her day and the simultaneous demands of needy and surly teens, I was happy to worship.

Mistress opened the computer to read yesterday’s entry. I knelt at the side of the bed, easing off her black work-a-day undies, spreading her legs, pressing my greedy face into her well groomed cunt. Yum.

Mistress scrolled through the opus, laughing quietly at the good parts, while I munched and suckled on her good parts.

“You keep bringing up E, Slave? Why is that?”

“Well, you seem to get off on it when I do, Mistress.”

When Slave finds a good button to push, he keeps pushing.

Soon Mistress was setting aside the computer, and squirming herself to a joyful little orgasm.

When she was done reading, she surprised me.

“Why don’t you insert your little device and fuck me now Slave. Before dinner….”

Gladly, Mistress.


After dinner we settled into a typical routine. I double checked one daughter’s history take home test (The one that stumped me: What annoyed Barry Goldwater more, the Warren Court, or all those New Deal “socialist” programs?). Mistress did some work for her odd lot of needy clients. Then we watched that final episode of “Damages” we had tucked away on our DVR(thank god for the ability to fast forward through the commercials).

We both seemed sated, and Mistress dozed off as I perused the Times, amused that Mayor Bloomberg seems t spend as much time in the Bahamas as he does in the Big Apple.

It was about 4 AM when I felt Mistress stirring a bit. Restless.

And when Mistress stirs, so does her Slave. She could tell I was awake too.

“Sorry I am awake, Slave. I guess I have too many work things running through my brain.”

I had a remedy for that.

My hand worked its way up under her short black velour nighty, capturing a nipple. My gentle squeezes, and the caress of my lips against her soft neck seemed to have the desired affect. Soon her ass was pressing against my thickening cock.

My hand slid down her belly, and nestled between her legs. The absence of fur makes it almost too easy to find the parts that make Mistress squirm even more intensely. Soon my fingers had the desired effect. One, then a second quaking orgasm.

“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave”

Of course I did. Mistress rolled onto her back. Her Slave mounted and entered her.

“Oh good, the morning cock.”

You know the kind. Not held back by a long and tiring work day. Tanned, rested and ready, sort of like Dick Nixon in 1968?

“That’s probably why your Sir M wants you to spend the night, Mistress ….to share the morning cock.”

“No doubt, Slave.”

Mistress Gets a Surprise

I know. Last week I reported that I seemed more inclined to “stay in my lane” and not exercise my switch privileges now that Mistress has a Dom to visit.

But yesterday was different. Was the change in location (our Florida “granny flat” …err … loft) or the fact that Mistress had not been able to work her Dom into her busy schedule last week?

Whatever it was, I woke feeling frisky, if a little stiff from a day of yard work and biking.

So when Mistress indicated that she was awake and ready for attention, I mounted the stairs with the only restraining tool I could find: the belt from a pink terry bathrobe we had conveniently left behind.

First Mistress read the entry I had written on her deforestation project the afternoon before. Then I revealed my plans, and ordered her to surrender her lovely hands for restraint. Soon she was tied securely to the bedpost, arms extended over her head.

“What are you up to, Slave?”

“It’s been a while since you had a good spanking, Mistress.”

She seemed to shiver with delight.

“I suppose you’re right.”

So far, her new Dom has only spanked her once, for her failure to leave that little landing strip of fur he had directed, when she got that original waxing. He’s gone pretty easy on her, now that I think of it. Taking the training slow. Probably because he’s so anxious to fuck her when she alights on his door step. But I am getting off message here…..

Mistress was now well positioned, on her tummy, a pillow propped under her hips. I gently stroked and kissed that bottom, all clean and smooth and soft, yet firm from all that cycling. Lovely.

Then I surprised her with the first firm smack. Almost immediately Mistress began to squirm and moan. And not from the pain of it. A spanking seems to bring out her inner subbie slut very quickly.

“It was all that sexy talk last fall with your friend E that got you into this spanking thing, wasn’t it Mistress?” (Go about to our fall entries to find out about the enigmatic E, the old college lover Mistress reconnected with in cyberland last fall, after she got the contractual right to take other lovers).

“Well you used to spank me, Slave.”

True, it was years ago, when Mick and Molly were married elsewhere, before marriage and babies. Or was it babies and marriage?

I applied a few more thwacks with my palm. Her ass was starting to glow. And she was very wet, as my fingers confirmed during a little break from her “punishment”.

“I remember. And you liked it then, didn’t you Mistress?”

“I did Slave. You got too soft on me….”

Thwack. I needed to remind her of her temporary status as my prisoner.

“I guess once we had the girls, I was a little timid in that respect. Maybe a bit too respectful of your status as a Mom?”

“Could be Slave.”

“But then, when your friend E threatened to spank you…”

Thwack.

“That hurt, Slave.”

My fingers probed. She squirmed, moaned.

“Then why are you so wet, Mistress?”

Was it the E talk? Her mind probably was on all that talk of strict discipline and required obedience.

“I bet you’d still like him to spank you, Mistress?”

“Maybe, Slave.”

Doubtless.

Mistress’s bottom was rather red by now. I probably had given her enough. So I rose and grabbed my camera, and snapped a few shots of her lying there, at my “mercy”.

Then I excused myself.

“Back in a moment, Mistress.”

“Come back here, Slave!”

She was squirming and desperate. But I had a surprise for her. And it wasn’t a trip to Starbucks.

As I came back up the stairs I had with me a little toy I had secreted away in our bag. The power tool – our Hitachi Magic Wand. Mistress’s head was buried in a pillow. Her ass was undulating. She did not realize her divine fate until the machine began to hum.

“What is that …..oooooh.”

She figured it out as the little white bulb pressed between her legs and against her bottom.

“You tricked me, Slave.”

I slid the business end of the magic wand between Mistress’s legs, and her muscles clenched around it, showing her desperation to bring this little session to its natural conclusion.

But I was in no hurry. I pulled back a bit, enjoying Mistress’s frustrating little gyrations as she tried to purchase the type of firm contact with her smooth and soaking cunt that would bring her the relief she needed. By now Mistress was humping the pillow between her hips, stretching back with her ass, and trying to grab the wand with those strong and sexy thighs. She was a woman possessed with need.

Just the way I like her.

But I am ultimately a pushover. A real Dom might have walked away for a bit, leaving her to marinate in her slutty needs. But I decided to give her what she wanted, sliding the tool deeper between her thighs.

Then it was Mistress going wild, clutching the tool between her legs, maybe afraid that I would change my mind. She ground at it, with fierce determination. Then she exploded against it, face red, tears and sobs flowing from her. One of those nuclear orgasms that make a Slave proud of his work.

I let her rest a bit, still on her tummy. I pressed against her, kissing away the tears, letting my hard cock slide against her soft, red rump.

Then it was my turn, sliding into her from behind. Someone else would not be denied.

Mistress Goes in For Some Maintenance.

Mistress and I have been down here in Central Florida this weekend, seeing some old friends and tending to our house – a nice old Florida classic that will not sell in this crazy real estate market.

In between the yard work, deferred maintenance and cleaning out a garage filled with tenant detritus, we have taken some long bike rides, dined with old neighbors, and Mistress has worked on her tan (the lines are back as you shall see in upcoming photos).

Mistress also went in for some maintenance of her own yesterday afternoon. Our loyal readers may recall that a few weeks back, her Dom gave orders to strip away her forest so he could more readily access her sexy little components. Mistress went above and beyond the call of duty and found a place in the outer suburbs of River City that performs a Brazilian wax. But this service is not readily available in our town. I guess the conservative dames don’t create much of a demand. Or does the cold weather encourage our women folk to keep their fur?

When Mistress asked a salon near her office if she could be accommodated they looked at her like an insane slut. (Were they half right? You be the judge.)

But down here in the Sunshine state, they have a different state of mind. Mistress called her old salon – where the Vietnamese ladies serviced her fingers and feet for several years – and it was no problem to set her up for a waxing.

Mistress asked if I wanted to come watch. I passed, opting to plant some grass seed, while knowing I would have the chance to inspect and plant some other seed later, once she was all spiffed up. I had watched her give birth twice. But this seemed beyond the call of duty. (Of course, if ordered, I would have dutifully complied).

Then again, he thought that Mistress was doing this at the direction of her other man made the thought of her undergoing this form of torture all the more torturous for this Slave.

Mistress walked to her waxing, and I picked her up at the appointed hour. I resisted the impulse to slide my hand under her sundress to take her slick parts for a test drive.

Back in our little guest house, Mistress preceded me up the stairs to the loft where our old conjugal bed is now in repose. When I came up I found Mistress, spread naked across the bed, posing in front of her computer screen, angling to let the “photo booth” camera take in her denuded parts and naked breasts, her brightly painted nails covering her nipples.

“Ahh. Taking some photos for your friend, Mistress?”

She gave me one of those coy smiles.

“Oh, Slave. I am sure you will be on the distribution list too.”

Of course, in my mind I surmised that he had demanded more photos, as evidence that she was maintaining the look and texture that he required. And, horny little slut that she was for him, she was more than happy to oblige.

“You like to titillate him, don’t you Mistress?”

By now I had picked up my own little camera and was taking some shots to share with our readers. She gets to approve of course.

“I do, Slave.”

Mistress continued to pose and snap the laptop camera, searching for angles that would display her parts to good advantage.

“He likes the breasts, Slave. Need to get some good shots of those.”

No doubt.

When Mistress was done with her photo spread (pun intended), She lay back and allowed me to apply some cocoanut butter to her lovely parts and bottom, still a bit red and tender from the waxing she had endured. And I applied myself with devotion until she was squirming from my ministrations.

“Do you imagine him playing with his cock when he gets those photos, Mistress?”

“He has not told me that he does that, Slave.”

“Well you like to think he does, don’t you?”

“I suppose I do….”

By now I was very anxious to feel those clean and well moisturized parts against the tip of my tongue and between my lips. I slid down and brought Mistress to the boiling point with a slow and deliberate assault until she was quaking against me. Satisfied for the moment, she pushed my head away.

“Let me taste your cock now, Slave.”

No problem.

Mistress soon had me begging to fuck her, and she ultimately relented allowing me to mount her, and it seemed I brought her to an additional orgasm that way. But not the kind she wanted.

“I want to get on top, Slave.”

No objection there. I rolled over, and Mistress slid onto me, guiding my cock inside her and beginning that slow, relentless ride to the place she needed to be.

“I’ll bet he liked it when you rode his cock that last time, Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave. He kind of went crazy.”

“And how did you like it Mistress.”

“It was …. Nice Slave. Very nice.”

No doubt.

Mistress was picking up the pace now, churning against me. I figured her mind was half on hois cock, half on mind. But it worked well for the both of us. She was a woman possessed. And suddenly, she hit that wall, pounding against me with a moan from deep in her lungs, before rolling off, spent.

And then it was my turn to finish the job. I like batting clean up.

In the Middle of the Night

Molly and Mick are down in Florida this weekend, dealing with a lovely house that does not want to be sold. But it does give us some solo time without teens or offices.  And yes dear readers, there has been sex.

We arrived last evening and camped out in our little guest house, still semi-furnished, at poolside. We took inventory of some things that need to be fixed or disposed of, then had a little picnic with some goodies acquired at Whole Foods. Mistress does like her Humboldt Fog. I go for the mozzarella and tomatoes, a la caprese.

We had some lovely “sleep tight” sex before drifting off.

Then around 2 am, Slave woke with mischief on his mind. I was thinking about what Mistress had told me concerning her Dom.

“He wants me to spend the night some time, Slave.”

“Well that’s up to you, isn’t it Mistress.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

What was on my mind?  The thought of Mistress, tied or handcuffed to Sir M’s bed, available to him whenever he wants to take her in the night. No doubt that has to be at the top of his list.

So I suppose I was acting out these dark thoughts when I reached over to Mistress, lying naked next to me, on her stomach, legs splayed ever so slightly. I slid a hand between those lovely thighs, finding those smooth, hairless lips and began to gently stroke her until her hips began to undulate.

Then Mistress acknowledged my impudent attack.

“What are you up to Slave?”

“What’s it seem like, Mistress?

Soon Mistress rolled over towards me, in the spirit of things, and allowed me to take one of her nipples between my lips and teeth, as my fingers continued the slow but steady assault that soon had her hips churning against me, moaning her delight.

Having taken her pleasure, Mistress’s fingers found my cock, hard and ready for her. In a breach of our rules, I did not ask permission, but simply slid on top of her and fucked her as I imagined her Dom would, hard and insistent, my fingers squeezing her nipples, my face buried in her neck, taking in her lovely scent.

But I did get back in character long enough to ask for permission to come.

“I like it when you want me in the middle of the night, Slave.”

Well I normally don’t like to wake you in your beauty rest, Mistress. But it’s not a school night….”

HNT's and PDA's

Mick and Molly are slowly adjusting to her new work schedule. While it has cut into our morning recreational activities, it has made for more opportunities for activities in River City’s downtown, as we take advantage of our close working proximity.

Tuesday evening was a nice “date” night. After work, Molly picked me up in her Mom-mobile (the black station wagon) and we headed up to a (relatively) hip restaurant in a nearby 1860’s neighborhood, finally being reclaimed from decades of decline. We even ran into a twitter follower (no not for our “UnderContract” twitter site, we do vanilla twiting too), who searched us out after Molly posted a photo of her allegedly “hunkish” husband.

After dinner we headed to a nearby theatre to see a well reviewed drama. The theatre is located on a hillside with a grand view of our downtown. Since we were a bit early, and I was more than a bit horny, we found a secluded picnic table with an excellent view, and began to “make out” a bit. And while there was the occasional car and theatre patron passing by, Mistress used her hands to fondle my cock through my trousers (fortunately it was a cage-free day for me). We kissed, deep and long. My hand rode up the inside of Mistress’s naked thigh, locating the panel of her black undies. As we became more….interested…we almost aborted our theatre trip…. Almost.

Instead we waited until after theatre to finish the job, back in our cozy bed.

Yesterday Mistress had a work related dinner. So she had me wear the cage as a little extra insurance that I would not get into trouble if left to my own devices after work.

But she did have time to see me at lunch. She arrived at my office for a little worship first though. It was one of those rare days when Mistress wore pants. Black, form fitting pants that emphasize her shapely and alluring rump.

I pulled the chair to the door, and draped our handy blanket over it to protect the upholstery from her natural juices.

She pulled down her pants and lacy green thong (damn, should have gotten a picture of that).

I fell to my knees. My eyes fell on her delectable, clean shaven lips, as she spread her legs just wide enough to accommodate my face.

“You look sexy today, Mistress.”

“Oh, really? I thought you liked me in dresses better.”

“Some variety never hurts, Mistress.”

I began to probe her with my tongue, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her arousal.

“Did anyone flirt with you today, Mistress?”

I continued my assault, using fingers to pry apart those lovely, plump lips.

“Well … there was that man in the elevator. Handsome. He said he had never seen me in the building before. Wanted to know where I worked.”

“Hmmm.” I paused briefly in my accelerating attack on the little bud popping up through those denuded lips.

“Does that turn you on when handsome men flirt, Mistress?”

“A little, Slave.”

Then the conversation faded into the little stifled moans of pleasure, and the broken breathing that signals Mistress’s emerging climax. Soon she was thrusting her hips against my lips and tongue. It was a nice one. Such a shame that my cock was locked in its steel cage, the key back at home.

After Mistress regained her composure (as well as her pants and thong), we headed to lunch, picking up a salad and finding an open table on our public square. It was a lovely spring day, sunny, but without the heat and humidity sure to come.

When we finished our salads, I walked Mistress toward her office, but we paused at a very public corner. I kissed Mistress tentatively. Sort of a goodbye peck. There were hundreds of folks within site.

But Mistress would have none of that. She kissed me hard, deep, her compelling tongue invading her Slave’s mouth. And of course I reciprocated. This went on for a while, us standing at the busiest corner in River City, making out for our conservative little world to see. I was waiting for someone to yell “get a room.” I was acutely reminded that my cock was confined until Mistress saw fit to unlock it.

When we finally came up for air, Mistress and I headed back to our respective offices.

I knew it would be several hours before Mistress came home from her dinner. I hope she remembered where she left the key.

Back in the Cage

Over the weekend Mistress concluded that she had been too easy on me since her return to the 9-5 working life. Maybe she had read an email from our “anonymous” commenter, asking why I was not required to wear the cage more often. (Thanks, dude!)

So yesterday morning I was instructed to put on my cage. She seemed to take a particularly perverse delight in closing the lock.

So there I was. In my steel cage. Cock all locked away. And not enough time in the earlier morning hours for me to have sex with her before the hasp was closed for the day.

And there was Mistress. Primping for work. All clean from the shower, her folds all smooth and stubble free. I wanted her. Badly.

I slid my hand between her legs, and pressed a finger between those plump and tasty lips. That finger is well trained by now, and soon it was sliding back and forth over Mistress’s delicious sweet, slick spot. Within moments she was humping and moaning against that finger, enjoying a nice and tidy morning orgasm.

But I was still locked away, my balls swelling oh so painfully against that tight steel ring that serves as the mounting base for the cage that surrounded my cock.

It was a busy day at work for me. Lots of crud had piled up on my desk while I was in DC. And there was an unanticipated lunch with a local Congressman and a delegation of corn processers from China. At least the Chinese food was tasty.

Mistress was busy too. No time for worship.

So when I got home, I reminded myself of my obligation.

“Would you like me to worship, Mistress.”

“Of course, Slave.”

I placed a pillow on the floor. Mistress reclined on the bed, spreading her legs. From my knees I had convenient access to my favorite parts. Only after my task was completed to her satisfaction did she reach for the key and release my twitching cock from its little prison.

Then we were off for a bike ride. It was a sunny evening and Mistress and her Slave need that aerobic exercise to stay fit for the long haul.

After that dinner, and catching up with Sunday’s episode of “Treme”, the new HBO series set in New Orleans. Great program, btw.

Only after that did Mistress make herself available to me.

“Why not insert your little device, Slave.”

As if I needed help at that point. But I know that the super-hardness it produces pleases Mistress, so I lubed it up and slid it in.

First I used my fingers to provide Mistress with a warm up orgasm. By then my cock was more than ready to meet her standards, and I was allowed to slide inside.

Ahh. Nice. Very nice.

At that point I took my time. It had been a long day of denial.

Avoiding "Misson Creep".

“Do you like me calling you Slave all the time?”

“Of course I do, Mistress….that’s my role  isn’t it?”

“Yes, Slave. And don’t forget it.”

We were talking over the weekend about my title. Mistress routinely calls me her “Slave” now, as in “When will you be home, Slave”, or “Thank you, Slave” when I hand her something she requests. And when she is being solicitous herself, it might sound like, “I’m getting some ice tea, can I get you something, Slave?” (I know, she should have told me to get her the darned ice tea).

And I do like it when Mistress calls me her “Slave” out of habit. It’s a nice reminder that we have fallen into a relationship that we both feel comfortable in, based on love, respect, and lots of lust. And I think I reciprocate by referring to her as “Mistress” almost as frequently (an occasional “dearest” or “love” will slip in. I need to work on that).

Of course, the risk is that the words may slip out in front of teens and others. It’s something that has happened from time to time, requiring a little backing and filling to cover our tracks.

During the Obama campaign, that well oiled organization had a phrase derived from a basketball cliché “stay in your lane”. It meant – do your job; let other folks do their jobs. Don’t freelance.

And there is another phrase I heard from a young Obama staffer I know during my DC visit last week: “Mission Creep”. It’s when a team member begins to expand his or her portfolio to influence events that might not be in her “lane”.

That comes up in the context of our Sunday “switch” days: for the 2^nd Sunday in a row, I have “forgotten” to get out the cuffs and crop and treat Mistress to a bit of her own medicine. Could it be that now that Mistress has her own Dom, I have figured that acting all Dom-ish is no longer in “my lane”?.

So instead of binding, teasing and spanking Mistress yesterday, we had some lovely and gratifying but sort of vanilla-ish sex yesterday morning and again in the afternoon, before hauling a surly teen and her friend to a concert in a semi-metropolis to our north.

I simply enjoyed the opportunity to lick and finger Mistress to orgasm, and then, with her permission, have my way with her.

But in the process  I did get a chance to question her a bit more about her date last week with the more take charge guy in her life.

What Mistress seems to like about that “other” relationship is the notion that someone else is desperate for her. Very desperate.  And while I have a great appreciation for Mistress’s many physical attributes, I suspect Sir M. is enjoying her the way I did all those years ago – he can’t believe his good fortune.

“So how did he fuck you this time, Mistress?”

“He let me ride his cock, Slave….”

“Hmmm….I bet you liked that didn’t you?”

Mistress always comes very, very dramatically that way.

“Did you come riding him, Mistress?”

“Oh yeah ….”

Now I was pumping into her and she seemed to be getting close, no doubt inspired (at least) in part by her memory of these events.

“and how did he like that, Mistress?”

“Well he kind of went crazy Slave….he was squeezing my breasts and nipples.  He does seem to like my breasts.”

And who wouldn’t?

Getting back to my theme today: I suppose now that Mistress has someone to tell her to kneel and suck his cock, or give her permission to come, I should avoid mission creep, stay in my lane, and focus on being as good a Slave as I can be.

Keeping it Smooth

Mistress is doing an excellent job of keeping herself smooth and available, all at the direction of Sir M. And Her Slave has been happy to enjoy the fringe benefits. So what that it means sometimes I am expected to help with teh personal grooming.

Today the Times had an interesting article on Brazilian waxing that we thought our readers might enjoy:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/18/fashion/18sisters.html?scp=1&sq=Brazilian%20wax&st=cse

A warm homecoming

This Slave finally made it home last evening. One teen was particularly glad to see me, and demanded the car keys within seconds of my “honey, I’m home” holler up the stairs.

Mistress also seemed glad to see me. I found her laying on the bed with her computer open, then rising for a kiss and a hug. It had been a long time since we were away from one another for two evenings. We had some catching up to do.

I dragged things out a bit, unpacking my bag, dispensing goodies from our nation’s capitol. Then stripping for Mistress.

“Ah….it’s good to see my cock again, Slave.”

Although she now has some cock variety, it’s nice to think that she still enjoys the old standby.

Soon we were in bed, my mouth doing what it likes to do to Mistress’s naked cunt until she was bucking and churning against my suctioning lips. Yum.

Her fingers lingered on my cock, assuring that it was ready for her before I was given permission to fuck her.

And as I mounted her I began the debriefing about her evening with Sir M that occurred while I was out of town.

“So, Mistress….is he a good kisser?”

I know that is important to Mistress, but something I had not asked about. It’s hard not to imagine her being taken in his arms for a passionate kiss when she arrives for her appointments.

“Yes, Slave he is … but he really does not kiss me much …. He usually goes straight to other things.”

“How about Wednesday night, Mistress?”

“Well he seemed rather desperate for me….he took me to his room and said ‘I want you completely naked, now.”

“And how does that make you feel, Mistress?”

By now I am pumping into Mistress, our legs entwined, pressuring against those favorite parts of mine, my grubby paws playing with her breasts, squeezing her nipples. And she is doing that irregular breathing that assures me that she is very aroused.

“Uhh …like a sex object, Slave.  Like I am being used for his pleasure….”

“And you like that, don’t you?”

“Oh yes, Slave…”

“What happened next, Mistress?”

He told me to kneel, and suck him, Slave.”

“You like it when his cock gets hard in your mouth, don’t you?”

“”Yes, Slave….I do.”

By now Mistress is getting close to another orgasm, and I focus on making sure it is a good one.

I figure I can continue this questioning later, when it’s time for mine.

HNT / Missing My Mistress

The Slave is in our nation's capitol still. Mistress is back in River City. We did talk last night after my dinner, and her engagement with Sir M.

Both of us were a little tired, so we did not ahve the energy for a "video chat" over our trusty Apple computers, the type involving the wanton display of body parts and voyeuristic abuse of body parts.

Plus it sounds as if Mistress's parts had sufficient wear and tear last night.

"How did your evening go, Mistress."

"Very nicely, Slave....I was a little late getting there, so we did not have as much time to play as we would ahve liked."

"Were you punished?"

"No .... he just kind of ....grabbed me when I arrived. Kissed me. Fed me a bit of a snack....then took me to his bedroom.... we mostly hung out there."

"Did you use those toys, Mistress?"

"No .... time was short.... I think he just wanted to get to the sex part."

"And how did that go, Mistress?"

"Well he told me to take my cloths off..."

"And did you?"

"Of course, Slave. He gives orders. I follow them."

"And then?"

"He told me to kneel and suck his cock..."

"How was that, Mistress?"

"Very nice, Slave.  I miss your cock tonight. But it was nice to have his in my mouth."

So I am imagining my Mistress. Naked. Kneeling. Her Dom feeding her his hardening cock. I have noticed the Mistress's skills in this area have ...developed ... over the last few months. I suppose practice and variety can enhance ones skills.

"Did you come for him Mistress?"

"Yes, Slave.   Of course."

By now my "tired" cock was twitching. But I did not want to press Mistress for permission. But I know that by this evening, when my dinner with relatives is done, I will be looking forward to that video chat.

DC Flashback

Slave is off to our nation’s capitol, sitting in a dreary seminar. The sun is out and tulips are brightening the White House lawn. SO far I have NOT sited Mrs. Sarkozy who was in town with her husband for a loose nukes hunt (or something like that).

For trivia buffs, name the former Clinton advisor who got caught up in a scandal involving sucking on his call girl’s toes? I think I am staying in the hotel that was the scene of that petty “crime”.

Meanwhile, Mistress is back in our home state’s capitol, casting her spell on the media over a complicated legislative issue. I pity those fools.

Mistress had to remember to leave in her car the handcuffs I had given her for tonite’s date with her Dom, one of the toys he directed her to bring. It might be a little embarrassing to get stopped at the metal detector in our state capitol and asked why you might have a pair of black handcuffs tucked away in your black Fendi bag. Are they simply fashion accessories? Or do they represent an attempt to kidnap the Speaker of the House?

I guess this is a sort of “do it yourself” submission, when the Dom tells you to bring handcuffs and a blindfold to facilitate your training and more complete submission to him. In any event, I will be thinking about what she is up to as I have a much less entertaining evening here in our nation’s capitol.

But the handcuffs flashed me back to an evening about 18 years ago, when Molly and Mick were married to other folks, but falling head over heels for one another. I had a business trip here. Molly came along (surreptitiously) for the ride.

In those days, when the toys came out, Mick was more inclined to take the D side of our D/s games. And I had tucked a pair of handcuffs in my bag for our trip.

We were staying on the Foggy Bottom neighborhood, and planned dinner at a favorite restaurant several blocks away. It was a lovely evening, though a little chilly. Coat weather. Ah ha!

Molly had dressed in a short, very attractive dress for our evening out. But before she shrugged on her black Burberry trench coat I retrieved my handcuffs.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh.... want to see how these cuffs look on you with that sexy dress, sweetie.”

Before she had a chance to consider her options, and I clicked one cuff closed around her outstretched wrist, pulled that arm behind her back, and took her other wrist prisoner. Her wrists were now tightly cuffed behind her back.

I took some liberties then. Hands squeezing her firm full breasts from behind, another hand climbing a thigh, fondling her through some skimpy undies.

Mistress sighed, and ground herself against my hand, her head resting back against me, mouth looking to be kissed.

“Mick ….Are you sure you want dinner?”

“Of course. I’m famished,” then broke the clinch, much to her consternation.

When she wriggled her wrists at me, indicating it was time to unlock her, I just laughed.

“Here, let me help with your coat.”

“Nooo….”

“Oh, yes….”

She sulked a bit as I slid her coat over her shoulders, then buttoned her up, to keep the coat from sliding off. But you could tell Molly was as much into this little adventure as I was.

I took an arm, with her resisting, and we left our room.

Mistress blushed a bit as the elevator got crowded. No doubt she was wondering if they were noticing the sexy young woman with her arms out of sight.

She seemed more relaxed as we walked down the sidewalk, me clutching her arm. She made a lovely prisoner.

I released her for our dinner, discretely unlocking her in the shadows outside the restaurant’s doors.

But the cuffs went back on for our walk home.

While I can’t remember exactly what happened by the time we made it back to that hotel room, I can assure you that Mick and Molly were both on fire, and that the cuffs did not come off before Mistress’s first of several orgasms.

And now, this evening, I will have to consider what Sir M will have Mistress doing once he snaps those black cuffs on her.

Personal Shopper

One of a Slave’s roles should be to make his Mistress’s life a little easier. A Slave should try to take off her plate some of life’s petty inconveniences. And now that Molly is back to a full time office job, the spare time she used to have has been slashed.

It’s typical that I assist with the cooking and make sure I am the one to clean the kitchen when we are done with dinner. Unloading the dishwasher along with the more manly tasks of grass mowing and other yard work is also on my plate.

But lately I have been asked to take on some more personal tasks. So Sunday night, as we watched the return of the Tudors (will that guy ever run out of wives?), Mistress spread her thighs and I applied the cream designed to remove any accumulating stubble, front, and then back. I let the cream sit for 10 minutes or so, cleaned it off with a warm cloth, then applied a nice coating of cocoanut cream to moisten and soften things up for her. The result was rather smooth and delightful. She had to chastise me a bit when those moisturizing fingers seemed intent on getting a response.

“I think my cunt has had enough stimulation today, Slave.”

Well of course….but it’s hard to resist Mistress.”

The fact that this “naked cunt” development came to us as a requirement of Sir M makes the whole task all the more Slavish and compelling, don’t you think?

Then yesterday, I was asked to take on a new role for Mistress: personal shopper.

When Mistress met me at the end of the work day for our ride home, She told me about a call she received.

“The Dom called Slave. He confirmed we are on for Wednesday night.”

“Good. Now you will have something to do while I am out of town, Mistress.”

“But he asked me to do something you might be amused by, Slave.”

My ears perked up.

“He told me to go to that adult store downtown, and get some handcuffs and a blind fold.”

So I surmised his training of my Mistress is cranking it up a notch. Gulp.

“And what did you say, Mistress?”

“That I was busy at work, but….”

“That maybe you could get your Slave to handle this task?”

She smiled.

“What a wonderful idea, Slave. You are very helpful.”

Last night I found a pair of handcuffs we had used in a prior life (pre-contract certainly). They are functioning well (though I am concerned about the potential for bruising Mistress’s lovely wrists). Mistress now has them stowed in her purse for her next meeting with Sir M.

Before lunch today, I wandered over to River City’s downtown “adult” boutique and found a faux leather blindfold, for Mistress to take along too.

I will give it to Mistress when she stops over for some worship this afternoon. Her new job has been a little stressful – lots of balls in the air – so I am sure she can use a little stress relief therapy.

Dinner Party?

Mistress’s Domme-ish behavior on Saturday afternoon, when she utilized her strap-on to good and potent effect, must have messed with my mind a bit.

I completely forgot to exercise my switch privileges yesterday, despite several choice opportunities. I suppose I was entranced in Sub-space longer than normal.

So when I finished my morning homework, I came upstairs and fell into bed with her, a tad horny from the fresh recollection of our activities the day before. Her warm body and the tight grip of her fingers on my cock erased any thoughts of tying her to the bed, or spanking her until her bottom glowed, that might otherwise have popped up. She even demurred on the “Power Tool” which I offered to deploy. So soon I was simply showing my devotion with head buried between her legs.

Afterwards, we took a long bike ride in the sunshine, the air still cool here in the morning. And then I was off to do some family visitations.

When I returned in early afternoon, Mistress was on our deck, working on her tan and reading the Times. But soon she was suggesting that we go upstairs for some indoor recreation.

As we undressed, Mistress said she was still working on scheduling her next meeting with Sir M. She was hoping to arrange a meet one evening this week when I am off on some work related travel. Something that would likely drive me to distraction while away from River City.

“You know, he asked whether he could visit me at my house sometime.”

Hmmm.

“Well, I guess it would have to be sometime when the girls are gone, or out of town.”

(Yes, that does happen sometime.)

“Of course, I told him that.”

But it also had me wondering where Slave fits in. Do I go bowling? To the movies?

“But where would I go, Mistress?”

“Wouldn’t it be interesting to have him over for dinner sometime?”

She clearly had contemplating my being close at hand. I was imagining myself cooking risotto, while Sir M chatted us up, a hand on Mistress’s ass. Exercising his rights to her. Argh.

This talk was having the exact effect Mistress no doubt desired. My cock was beginning to twitch. Verbal foreplay.

We climbed into bed, clutching one another, my fingers between her legs, fondling those smooth, squishy, cleanly shaven parts he liked her to display for him. My cock hardening against her silky thigh, so recently warming in the spring sunshine.

“So how would that work, Mistress?”

“Not sure, Slave….How do you think you would react?”

Good question.

How would Mistress want her Slave to react? All manly bristling. Defending her honor? Or passively and slavishly allowing events to unfold as her Dom and she desired. Is there some protocol or Miss Manners’ canned response for this type of delicate social situation?

“Well …. Mistress. You would have to give me pretty clear directions on how to behave. It would be an interesting dynamic …. he’s your Dom. He would expect you to follow his directions. Submit to his desires. And I would be your Slave, doing what you told me to do….I think.”

“Of course you would….you would do exactly what I said.”

“Yes, Mistress. Would I wear my cage?”

“Hmmmm …. We would have to think about that.”

“I think you want me to see him fuck you, Mistress.

“Yes, Slave. Wouldn’t that be interesting?

“But Why?”

“It would be so humiliating, wouldn’t it, Slave.”

“Oh, yes.”

It was around about this time that Mistress succumbed to my pumping fingers, gasping in a nicely explosive orgasm. Then she directed me to fuck her. That was an order I had no problem following.

What would they think?

Last night, Mistress and Slave attended a charity event that attracted a good chunk of River City’s gay and lesbian society set . A fun evening with goofy, over the top spring costumes. We stood out as sore thumbs among only a handful of the bland, vanilla couples.

I sipped a vodka and tonic and watched my charming wife commiserate with a very attractive female couple we have come to know. She shared a story with them about my comment when I saw an emailed photo of them with Molly. When it arrived, Mistress and I were lying together in bed over the Holidays (naked of course, a detail Mistress was sure to add).

I said something to the effect that the taller of the two was “stunning” (and she is). Mistress reported the comment, and acknowledged that she took some offense at the time. For me the truth was a defense. It was no different than our conversation about a recent photo spread of Grace Kelly in Vanity Fair. Wow!

But the acknowledgement of a classic beauty takes nothing away from the fact that Mistress is and always will be a knock out. She has been my my primo fetish object since I met her all the way back in 1987.

The two women laughed.

Mistress said, “I think he takes me for granted.”

They shook their heads. They knew better.

“Hardly, I grovel for her….”

They smiled, laughed again, one said, “I’m sure you do.”

Hopefully Mistress was paying attention.

The night evolved into lots of dancing to all those cliché gay anthems, from Cher to Leslie Gore and the rest, played by a cross dressed disk jockey who seemed reluctant to move for fear his poufy wig would hit the floor.

Watching the joyously writhing bodies, it was hard not to imagine how Mistress’s lesbian friends would react to the site of Mistress’s clean shaven cunt, and what they might do to make it perform its slutty tricks.

Would they be surprised to learn that this straight couple, who had not gotten the funny costume memo (or at least not taken it to heart) were over in the corner sharing comments on the latest email from her Dom, or trading observations on how this side relationship Mistress is cultivating makes both of them hot for one another too?

And what would they think if they had seen Mistress sporting her strap-on earlier that afternoon, reminding her Slave of his place?

Our morning had begun with a provocative email from Sir M, which Molly read to me when I returned from dropping a surly teen off for one of those dreaded college admissions exams.

As I recall the message, he noted his pleasure in how Mistress’s clit became engorged with blood as he massaged it on their last date. He asked for her comments on what she likes about his cock and his manner of fucking her with it.

These were notes that I could relate to. Now that the forest has been cut, its interesting to observe the “before” and “after” view of Mistress’s pink clit poking from between her paler lips. But why does the knowledge that he had been massaging my Mistress’s leaky cunt, and pushing her to an orgasm or four with fingers and cock turn me on too?

These words had clearly cranked up Mistress’s arousal in my absence. Fortunately it seemed she had waited for me to help her scratch this itch. So we were soon working our magic on one another, spending our passion before taking to the hills for a long bike ride.

Later that day, after some yard work for me, and a trip by Mistress to find a prom dress for a surly teen, Mistress reminded me it was time for a Saturday ritual that we had missed on our trip out west.

“It’s time for me to fuck you in the ass, Slave.”

I had showered and was lying on the bed, naked, ready for her, the way she likes.

Mistress took her time, assembling her tools and sliding into her harness. This was the sight that I wondered how her lesbian friends would react to….Would they invite her to “bring it on”, or would they like to use one on her? Probably both.

Mistress and I kissed and snuggled a bit. She likes me nice and hard before she takes me this way. And when she was ready….

“Tell me what you want, Slave?

“I think you know Mistress.”

“Remind me.”

With that, her grip tightened on a hardened cock.

‘Fuck, me in the Ass, Mistress.”

“Pardon?”

“Please, Mistress. Please fuck me in the Ass.”

I know, it sounds pathetic. But it’s our way.

She positioned me, a pillow under my hips to give her the right angle.

She needed a little help finding her target. It had been a few weeks.

And my ass seemed a bit tighter than normal. She filled and stretched me real good.

“You need this, don’t you Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Explain….”

She’s thrusting now. Hard to focus on a Q and A, but I try.

“It reminds me that …. I am yours, Mistress. That I …..that …you are in charge. You can take your pleasure from me as it pleases you….”

“Yes I can, Slave.”

She’s thrusting harder now, and then explodes against me. Is it the power, the angle, the leather harness pressing and rubbing against that highly exposed clit? Who knows, but this was a very big one.

As she comes down a bit, her body straightens and her thrusts get even harder, deeper. Ouch.

“Enough, Mistress”.

She responds, slowing then withdrawing. But she threatens punishment later….

“I don’t know that I like you telling me when you’ve had enough Slave.”

Point well taken.

Reflecting on this last night as the music swelled and the bodies bumped, I wondered what our fellow revelers would think about the “real” Mick and Molly.

Adjusting to that New Work Schedule

When your surly teens both have driver’s licenses, two cars are available, and it’s a Friday night, can’t parents at least expect that the house will be abandoned allowing more devious adult activities at the end of the work day?

Unfortunately, that was not the case at our house last night. Instead we seemed to have “helicopter” children last night, hovering around us, and making us use more discretion that would otherwise have been required.

Well of course we made due.

Driving home, I had the pleasure of parking my hand between Mistress’s legs, sliding a finger ever so gently along her slick black “work” panties.

At some point the discussion turned to her “friend”, who, somewhat untypically, had called her that afternoon, to comment on a slutty photo she had sent him via email. (Mistress asked me to help her select the photo the evening before – we settled on one that showed her ample and firm tits).

“What did he have to say, Mistress?”

“Oh….he told me he liked the photo, Slave.”

“No doubt”.

“He said maybe he should take some too….Not sure how I feel about that.”

“Well, I’m not sure you have much to say about it, Mistress.”

Mistress’s hand wandered to my crotch, as I kept my eyes on the slow moving rush hour traffic.

‘Does this talk make you horny, Slave?”

“I guess it does, Mistress”.

She could confirm that with her own fingers, which momentarily gripped my hardening cock. Argh.



Once home, we took a nice Bike ride in the sun shine, though cooler temperatures have prevailed here in River City these last few days.

We had contemplated going to a local wine bar for a “tasting” afterwards, but the tease I had “suffered” on the ride home had made me a bit more interested in tasting Mistress’s juices than some cheeky Oregon Pinots.

So we found ourselves in bed, my face buried between Mistress’s legs, my fingers using the Crystal cock to cause one of those sudden and convulsive orgasms that Mistress sometimes exhibits. And I was rewarded with an opportunity to slide the hard cock that had been pining for her into that needy little cunt. Ahhh.

After recuperating in bed for a while, we made a picnic dinner, and settled into watch “The Blind Side” on PPV. It was painful to watch the opening scene, when the Giants break Joe Thiesman’s leg one more time (I am old enough to have watched him play in college), amusing to see the suburban southern belle cloths they crammed Sandra Bullock’s bottom into, and distressing to see what passes for an Oscar winning performance these days. But at least we had not paid for tickets at the theatre.

Since my interest in the movie was somewhat less than compelling, I would have gladly sat as Mistress’s feet, and suckled her toes and then her cunt while she watched. Butthe teens kept wandering in and out, demanding car keys, or rattling off their needs for Saturday, so we kept it righteous and reserved until the movie’s inspirational ending.

By now it was getting late, and at this time on a Friday night, after “doing it” once already, we might normally settle into bed with a good book and defer our next “activity” until morning….but ….Mistress was feeling frisky, and so was her Slave.


Maybe it was our ongoing dialog about her interest in Sir M’s cock, and her slutty behavior in his presence, but it did not take long for Mistress’s supple fingers to produce one more raging hard on, and for her juices to freely flow. And we were at it again….

I guess we have figured a way to adapt to Mistress’s new work schedule after all.

Slave's Cross-Exam

Mistress’s new downtown job may be cutting into our early morning encounters (still adjusting the body clock here), but it’s made for some more quality time together.

She was able to break away from her Mad(wo)Man activities yesterday around noon for some worship in my office. My cock strained against the cage she had locked on, as I knelt to suck on her clean shaven cunt, her legs wrapping themselves around my neck as I brought her to a nice, writhing climax against my mouth. She commented on how her little bud so clearly swells between her lips when I am done, so obvious and glistening with all that hair gone.

Then we had a pleasant lunch at a nearby café where she regaled me with some more details of her tryst the night before.

“I think he may have been the person who left that comment, Slave?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, about taking my bottom while you watched.”

I remembered the comment. Something to the effect of “have you ever had Molly up the ass, Mick?” and suggesting it might be good for me to watch Molly’s Dom do that, knowing that it was a privilege I have not exercised (or been granted).

It’s not something Molly is into (at least not so far). And her cunt is amply tight for my needs.  But let’s go on with the dialog:

“What makes you think it was him, Mistress?”

“Well …. When he bent me over the bed and took me from behind ….he kind of …well…commented that  he should do it to me that way….”

Mistress (believe it or not) seemed to be blushing now….it’s good she can be open about all this  with me. Actually it would not work at  all with out that openness.

“And what did you say Mistress?”

“Well….that it’s not something I am really into ….and that if my cunt is as tight as he claims it is….what’s the point?”

But I must say it seemed to excite Mistress …. The threat of giving up that piece of virginal territory.

By now, this Slave was getting a little tight inside the cage, and I shifted the  conversation shifted to more vanilla topics.

But the debriefing continued later that evening, when we finally finished our nightly chores and the surly teens were off to bed.

I had worshipped Mistress once with my eager lips before dinner. Now my fingers found my way to her smooth and slick cunt as I sidled up against her, kissing her hard and long.

Breaking the kiss, we went back to my “cross-exam”, enhanced with certain techniques developed over years of experience.

“So lets go back to what happened after your outside dinner, Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave?”

By now Mistress was squirming against my fingers.

“So had you gotten all dressed after your activity in his bedroom.”

“Yes Slave.”

“Even your underwear?”

“Ummm….yes. “

I surmised that Mistress must have thought her sexual activity was done for the night.

“So after your dinner, did he require you to suck his cock, Mistress”.

“Yes, Slave, he did….how does that make you feel?”

“A bit jealous ….but in a constructive way, Mistress.”

“How so?”

Some how I had lost the initiative on this cross-exam. My fingers picked up the pace.

“Well….I guess it makes me competitive…wants me to please you more, and better, Mistress.”

“That’s good…..I hope you don’t mind that I am making you work at this a bit harder than normal, Slave.”

I was working her  hard with my fingers now. Could sense she was getting very close….but resisting the pull of her cunt.

“Did you make him hard with your mouth, Mistress?”

“I suppose so, but he was already pretty hard.”

“Did you like that, Mistress.”

“Oh yes, Slave.”

“You like being his slut, don’t you?”

“Yes….I suppose I do…”

“Did he make you kneel to suck him?”

“No. I was sitting in a chair. He stood. Opened his pants. Came to me…”

“And then, Mistress.”

“Well….that’s when he pushed me over the table….he fucked me again, from behind.”

“And did he make you come, Mistress?”

“Oh, Yes , Slave. I guess that’s why I was a little late coming home …he decided to take me one more time.”

My mind was filled with an image of my elegeant Mistress, panties yanked off, dress flipped up over her ass, panting and begging to come as she is bent over this suburban picnic table. Excruciatingly erotic.

As Mistress finally surrendered to my pumping fingers, she gasped and thrust against my hand, plunging over the edge..

“You’re thinking of him fucking you, aren’t you, Mistress….”

“Yes  …. and you too, Slave. You watching him do it to me.”

By now I was desperate for her, my cock hard without the need for her fingers or mouth. It had been a long day of denial. So as I mounted her, I mentally filed away my cross-examination outline for another day.