a requested illustration

SFP, one of our favorite colleagues in deviant blogging asked for an image of the little white probe that has been deployed from time to time in our adventures. So here is a shot of it leaning against one of the feet that I enjoy worshipping when other parts are in need of a rest ....like tonight for example.

The adventures of SFP and her demanding yet compassionate hockey fan of a  Dom, Mr. C., can be found at her blog "Peacefully Submissive."

Lend Lease Orifice

On Saturday I sent our Western Correspondent a brief email on the subject of our Sunday morning switch day. I was looking for some guidance. He’s doing a crackerjack job of training Mistress to be his little “slave in sex” as she refers to herself in her correspondence to him. I wanted to make sure that whatever activities I engage in on our weekly switch occasion did not conflict with his methodologies. We don’t want to confuse Mistress while in training.

And in a weird way, I was seeking his permission, now that he seems to be so deeply in her head as her Master.

My question was “interested in your thoughts on handling switch day….” It was intentionally open ended, and could have led him in a number of potential directions. His response:

“I recommend the little white probe [the ‘Aneros’ that Mistress tells me to insert when she wants an extra hard cock]. But you are the Master tomorrow, and it is your switch day so you do what ever you want. I did tell Molly not to give you any BS if you decide to use the probe. … BTW I am curious if her orgasm is any stronger with the probe up her ass. Let me know.

Your respectful friend, M”

So he gave me some ideas, rather than directions. Nice touch.

When Sunday dawned, after our crazy Saturday, I found myself back in bed with Mistress, going over the papers, both a little burnt out. Yes we had a few drinks the night before, but it seemed more like a sexual hangover than a conventional one. And we talked about deferring our Switch activities until the evening.

But when she rolled over, her lovely naked bottom there for my soft caress and firm hand, there was no way I could pass up my Sunday morning privilege .

I started to spank.

“What are you doing, Slave?”

“I believe M said you needed a good hard spanking, Mistress…”

“Yes….he did. But…..”

“No But’s, Mistress. It would be impertinent to disregard his wishes, don’t you think?”

“I suppose, Slave.”

“Just consider yourself lucky that it’s me spanking you, rather than M. He might be much firmer, don’t you think?”

“Yes….he keep’s talking about blistering my bottom. That sounds a little scary.”

Somehow I suspected Mistress was looking forward to seeing just how scary that would be.

Normally I would tie Mistress to the bed on Sunday morning, but I was a little lazy, and I liked the way she was just laying there, very obedient, submitting to my increasingly firm slaps against her now squirming ass, despite the lack of restraints.

This training must me having some good effect.

After a dozen or so slaps, I climbed out of bed.

“Where are you going, Slave?”

She missed me already. Sweet.

“I’m getting what M advised me to use on you today, Mistress. And he told me not to take any back-sass from you about it.”

“But…..you know I don’t like anything in my ass…”

But she lay there, very obedient. No heading for the hills. Good little Slave.

“I suspect that’s exactly why he wants you to take it there. Just imagine it’s him doing it to you Mistress. I am just an accessory here….”

I should have added “and you like to do it to me, Mistress….can’t take your own medicine?”

She quieted down after that, as I smeared some baby oil gel on the probe and her little tight opening.

And she helped guide me a bit with her words as I found the mark again and slowly slid the probe inside. She was very still.

“How’s that, Mistress?”

“Uhhh …it’s OK Slave.”

Let’s see how it feels when I spank you Mistress.”

And that‘s what I did, until her bottom was glowing red on both cheeks. Her squirms and little moans into the pillow were very compelling. And my cock was getting very hard.

I paused for a moment to snap the photo above, which would be sent off to M when our session was done. It’s only fair to give him a sneak preview, since he is a source of inspiration.

I slid back into bed next to Mistress, my hardened cock pressed against her left thigh and my right hand slapping her bottom. But now my left hand wormed it’s way under her, and my fingers began a slow and deliberate massage of her sopping parts. As her bottom squirmed in it’s faux efforts to avoid my slapping hand, she ground herself all the more enthusiastically against my kneading fingers below her.

“I know that your ass is his, Mistress, but it’s nice of him to let me break it in for him as his assistant, don’t you think?”

Her response was muffled into the pillow as her squirms became more pronounced, but it seemed she agreed.

I had intended this approach as only a warm-up act for the application of her favorite power tool, but Mistress preempted that plan as she writhed against my fingers and moaned with delight before collapsing against the bed. Her eye opener orgasm.

“You surprised me there Mistress. But I’m not done with you just yet….”

After giving her a minute or two to recover her cognition, I reached for the power tool, switched it on.

“You won’t turn this down will you Mistress?”

“No Slave ….I think I am getting addicted to it.”

And of course it has now become associated with the voice and directions of her new Master. Compelling, don’t you think?

“There are worse things to become addicted to, Mistress.”

I slid the churning end between her legs from behind, and let the machine do the job it does so darn well. I was not going to tease or frustrate. But I did want to report on this experiment to M – would Mistress have a better or bigger orgasm with or without that little device?

She put her lovely and well exercised thighs to full use, and those muscles in her bottom too, as she rubbed herself against the soft white bulb. She seems a woman possessed in moments like these, focused on satisfying the demands of her needy little cunt.

I try to hold her in place with my free hand, for fear she might just pop off the bed, and my cock delights in the friction of her smooth thigh as it rides the swift currents of her desire. (did I really just write that? Shoot me.)

She builds slowly, then when she can take no more of the frustration, she goes for it, her whole body stiffening, her face turn red, eyes scrunched closed.

My report to M: It was certainly an epic orgasm, M. But it was hard for this Observer to tell if the probe had a physical amplifying effect, or whether the idea that she was submitting to something she feels squeamish about at your direction made her a tad more submissive, allowing her to “let go” a little more.

Maybe we need to do some further experiments to get to the bottom of this. Of course, my own hard cock probably made me less than a dispassionate scientific observer.

Now back to our activities.

When Mistress’s post orgasmic lethargy abated, she asked for my cock. She did not have to ask twice.

I took her lovely sopping cunt from behind.

“Ohhh….it’s very hard Slave. I needed that….”

“and you are very wet Mistress”

Tight too, I might add. Very tight. Lucky Slave.

I entered her slowly, enjoying her warm embrace and the texture and aroma of that lovely back and thick rich hair beneath me.

Then I picked up the pace.

And as I pounded into her, Mistress came again, her ass rising to meet me, her neck and head turning with pleasure against the bed.

It’s good to know that despite the allure of technology, the traditional approach can still get Mistress where she likes to go.

After that third orgasm Mistress was spent. But she was kind enough to roll over and allow me to take my own pleasure from her.

M, thanks for letting me help you break in Mistress’s ass. But I consider it on lease. Mistress knows it belongs to you.

Grace Slick Would Be Proud of Mistress

It’s midnight Saturday.

I am cuddled next to Mistress. 

My now softening cock pressed between Mistress’s smooth ass cheeks, two fingers toying with her right nipple, my palm nestling her breast. I am zoning out, coming down from a lengthy and explosive bout of lovemaking. The type where your cock says “keep going, dude” and the rest of your body says “Hey old guy, you’re almost 60, can’t this wait until morning. You did this twice already today.” 

Mistress is coming down too. Murmuring into the phone with our Western Correspondent. I recall one line:

“I’m not sure how much one cunt can take, M. Three intense encounters with Mick today, two over the phone with you. You guys really have me at your mercy.”

So let me back up 24 hours and give you the “pervy” chronology, as our partner in perv, SFP would put it:

12:15 am – Mistress returns home from seeing “Sex in the City” with surly teen 2 (Surly teen 1 was in the “City” with her boyfriend; my guess is they did not need the movie). 

She strips, takes off the makeup. As she climbs in to bed, tired like me, I tell her that I had finished up the morning blog, and that it had made me a little horny. But we resolve to wait until morning.

But as I spoon against her, the damn friction between cock and her smooth, firm ass cheeks get me twitching.  Soon my hand is sliding between her legs from behind and the soft caress of a single finger has her going too. That finger soon has her coming in soft little shudders, then rolling over to welcome my firm cock.

7:30 am – I am up only briefly, with just the time to post the blog and brew some coffee,  before Mistress pages me from above. The blog, and our talk of her plans for her afternoon “date” with Master M carry us through yet another sexual adventure. Then off for a bike ride in the humid summer air.

11:30 am- Mistress returns from her beauty rituals. I am out in our yard, clipping, mowing and mulching. Guy stuff.  My text message goes off:

“Home. Where are U?”

“In the yard.  Worship?”

“Sure”

Her wish was my command. I came in, stripped off sweaty T and soon found myself on my knees, enjoying the taste and fragrance of that clean shaven cunt.

2:00 pm – We are lounging on our deck. Mistress working on her tan, reading a book. Me paging through the Times in a shady spot. Mistress has been texting with her new Master, as he reports his exploits on the golf course.

Mistress had told me they planned a phone date, and she was getting a little fidgety. When would it be? She did not want it to interfere with our own Saturday afternoon romp. And the girls were now gone, leaving Mom and Dad with an empty house to play in.

“He says I can call him now, Slave.”

“Then go for it, Mistress.”

She leaned over for a kiss as she passed me, I-phone in hand.

“I will want your cock when I’m done, Slave. I’ll text you.”

I settled in with the Times, admittedly distracted by Mistress hi-jinks upstairs. After about 20 minutes. my text went off:

“Still talking Slave.”

Then, a few minutes later:

“He’s giving instructions.”

Hmmm. Twitch. Torture. I asked myself for the 347^th time why this concept turns me on so much.

2:45 pm: After about 45 minutes of elapsed time, my cell phone rang.

“I need you up here now, Slave.”

Mistress says she likes a hard cock after coming by Hitachi or other non- penetrative means. And She did not have to ask me twice to provide one.

As we fucked with a certain crazy desperation, I debriefed her on their talk.

“Where was he, Mistress.”

“driving home from golf, Slave. He was hoping to do it with his wife when he got home.”

“No doubt he will be primed.”

“And did he make you beg, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. I had to ask permission. He made me say “May I come now M?”

“And did you, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. He made me come twice.”

By then my cock had taken command and control, and the answers did not filter back to my memory reserves.

5:30 pm: When we were done, it was time to prepare for one of those obligatory holiday weekend cook outs, at which extended family and my always annoying Mother would be parked on our deck for longer than any norm of hospitality should require.

And Mistress had a special request:

“Slave, M is  home alone tonite. And he wants to know if we can do it again sometime this evening.”

Mistress was not giving orders here. She wanted to know if I would be offended if she abandoned the role of smiling hostess for that of slutty love slave for a bit. And it was a gift of consent I was happy to provide. Molly has soldiered on through way too many of these family evenings. She deserved a little vacation.

“Of course, Mistress. It will make the evening more fun for both of us.”

And it did.

7:30 pm: We arranged a plan that went awry a bit. M was to text my cell phone when he was ready for her. I would inform Molly it was time for the “business call” she had to make. Then Molly would excuse herself. 

AS the evening progressed, she would discretely ask if I had gotten any text messages.  I had nothing to report. She was getting ansty. And maybe a little horny. All that anticipation was building up for the poor Molly. She needed her little break.

“I think I will go check my own phone, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

She came down moments later as I was feeding plates into the dishwasher and supervising the teens’ cutting  watermelon.

“Somehow he forget your number, Slave. He’s ready for me now.”

“I kissed Mistress, and patted her departing ass as she headed back upstairs for her appointment.

Dessert was served, guests lingered a bit then (at last) announced their departures. I helped with the loading of grandsons and my mother.

All asked about Molly’s whereabouts, wanting to bid adieu. I told her there was a work call she had to take, but that I would pass on their thanks.

9:30 pm: As I finished the clean-up, I could here Mistress above me, pacing. Post-coital chat, no doubt. Cute. And Sexy.

When the guests had cleared away, Mistress came downstairs. That “cat ate the canary” smile on her face yet again.

“How long was I gone, Slave?”

“”Oh, an hour or so. Everyone’s gone.”

I pulled her close, kissing her lightly, but a hand possessively gripping her ass. The teens were still lingering, so I had to ease up on the PDA’s for fear of activating their “gross out” meters.

“Let’s go out to a bar, Slave. M and I were talking about tequila shots. Now I have a real thirst for one.”

So  Tequila shots replaced the post-phone sex cigarette. Healthier, I think.

We drove a few blocks to a seedy biker bar, where exceedingly large people with flannel shirts and dime store cowboy hats were muttering the video screened lyrics of country tunes into microphones. Classic Americana.

I moseyed up to the bar and got a short lady bar tender in a grimy t shirt to pour her a Cuervo double and me a Jamieson on the rocks.

In our corner booth, I asked Mistress to recount her adventures.

“Sorry it took so long, Slave….he could have talked an hour longer.”

“No problem Mistress…things went fine and I wanted you to have your fun.”

I debriefed her a bit. He “made” her come three times with that oh-so-efficient Hitachi. And he came too.

“How does that feel, Mistress….to know he’s playing with his cock and that your voice, what you are putting in his head, is making him hard?”

Mistress did that little blushy, demure look thing for me.

“It’s…very sexy, Slave.”

Mistress had another double. I nursed mine. Then we headed home, after hearing one too many skinny guys try to channel Elvis.

10:30 pm: Back in our bedroom, I stripped away my shorts and T-shirt. I certainly had no expectation or desire for sex at that point. It had been a long day, and my sperm count must have been running on empty, right?

Was it the tequila that caused Mistress to phone M at that point.  We had talked about calling him at some point. But suddenly she was handing the phone to me.

“M wants to say hello”.

We had a brief conversation. He told me how “cool” we are. I thanked him for the bounce he has placed in Mistress’s step. We laughed about some blog comments by SFP on Friday.

I told him I had been thinking about that old Jefferson Airplane song “Triad” in the context of our mutual courtship of Molly.

I turned the phone over to Mistress, who sat lay across the bed next to me, still in her tiedye dress and lacy panties.

I found the song on YouTube, clicked play, and then emailed it to M.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Aej9wmoQ7M&feature=PlayList&p=DA91B5A31F74DD39&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=25

Meanwhile Mistress was chatting on, in her flirtatious way. As if all of this was very natural and comfortable. And, come to think of it, it was.

That’s when I slid my face in between Mistress’s legs, and used a finger to pull away her panties to give my tongue a little access.

“Oh my god, his face is between my legs, M.  I guess I should go….”

But she didn’t go. His voice had enough of a command over her that he made her keep up the narrative. What I heard was like a deviant Bob Newhart monlogue, her on the phone to him, then passing on his comments to me. Here are some of the snippets that stuck out:

“Now he’s pulling off my panties. …..His face is buried there, M.”

“M wants me to keep talking ….he wants to hear me come again.”

“Mick’s addicted to this….he can’t get enough of the taste of my cunt, isn’t that true, Slave?

“Ummm-huhhh”.

It is true, and at this moment I could not let go…

“M wants you to suck my clit between your lips ….that’s exactly what he is doing…

By now her free hand had found my cock, and she was squeezing and stroking.

“wow….he’s pretty hard now ….”

“So why isn’t this one of your favorite things….”

“M says he likes fucking better….but Mick’s just hooked on this…he always has been.”

At some point, Mistress lost her focus on the conversation. Her words became moans, her hips bucked against me, but I would not free her from the grip of my lips until she came again.

She had not asked M for permission. For shame.

The conversation continued a bit. But Slave was needy by now, and a little uppity.

“I’d really like to fuck you now, Mistress. But not with you on the phone”.

She agreed it was time to ring off, and they said their endearing good nights. Mistress instructed me to insert my little white probe, as she did her bedtime beauty rituals. My cock kept its interest at a very high level. Which led to the long and crazy love making where this convoluted account began.

As I faded away, I heard Mistress wish her new Master goodnight. Crazy, Huh?

Fan Mail

Molly and Mick were up a little later than normal Thursday night, watching a sweet, if sappy, movie about Valentine’s Day in LA. And when we finally went to bed, it was not without some sleepy but gratifying love making that put us out, quickly and deeply.

So Slave woke a little later than normal Friday morning, with barely the time to make coffee and retrieve the papers, before Mistress called for me.

“Mick, I’m up….”

Translation: get up here and serve me, pronto, Slave.

In reality, I like that morning “page”. It usually means that Mistress has mischief in mind.


As I came upstairs, I was still a bit sleepy. The coffee had not yet kicked in. But seeing her there, naked, in bed, full breasts, erect nipples, legs askew to show a bit of her fur-less parts, she was overwhelmingly enticing.

And the scent….wow. Mistress was already aroused.

“Did you start without me, Mistress?”

“No, Slave. Why would I do that with your tongue and cock available I paged you for a reason.”


As I settled into bed next to her, the hi-test pheromones she was tossing off quickly shredded my morning malaise. I was almost instantly hard. I could only imagine what had gotten Mistress into such an early morning state of longing. But whatever or whoever, I was happy to exploit it.

“Are you sure you weren’t using the power tool Mistress?”

She laughed.

“No Slave, why don’t you touch it and see if it’s warm. Better yet, smell it.”

I took her word for it, and went to work on her with my mouth. Once that “work” was done, I certainly needed no special handling before plunging in with her permission.

As I exploited my privilege, we talked about how deeply she has fallen under the spell of her new Master, M, fka, our Western Correspondent.

“Well, you gave him the road map, Slave…all the little clues, my weaknesses, there all there for him to pick up in the blog. Why did you do that?”

All of this said through those endearing little gasps and moans…the question was really rhetorical.

“ He does seem to be doing a good job of training you, Mistress.”

Yes, Slave ….. he’s very good at that.”

“I’ll bet you start getting wet when you hear his voice now.”

“Ummm …. Yes, it’s true.”

“He’s conditioning you, Mistress…. Soon you may not be able to come without his permission.”

“Oh…I don’t think so Slave….He wouldn’t do that.”

But as she came for me then, suddenly, and with surprising force, it seemed like there was a slight and very exciting question in her mind about that possibility.

We drove to work together. And between phone calls and some business matters I took the time to write the brief entry in yesterday’s blog.

Later, around lunch time, I received an email from Master M with his comments about the blog, directed at me and his Slave in training:


“Fun blog post again today, Mick. Thanks for the clues, and inspiration. I am going to get around to the begging for orgasm hotness, when we have time, and a leash also sounds like a very good idea,

a very long leash that could be pulled between your legs, Molly.... and held by me hiking behind you. Interesting possibilities there ... don't U think?

And U r right Mick... the sun screen would have to be liberally applied all over Molly ... wouldn't want any burning,,,, better safe than sorry.

Take care U two, M”

It’s good to get some feedback from our biggest “fan”.

But I could imagine Mistress’s reaction at the thought of that leash as she read over his email.

Later, on our ride home, Mistress confessed that she and M had another one of their in the office phone sex encounters. And of course I pumped her for the details.

“I really didn’t think I was in the mood, Slave. I was so busy ….but…”

“Did he require it, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. One minute we were just talking about our day….and the next minute he’s telling me he is pulling out his cock and that I should go to that little private bathroom where ….I do it for him.”

“I suppose you could have said ‘No’ Mistress…”

“That’s the thing ….I really didn’t feel that I could say no ,,,.”

“And how does it feel to have to do that….to play with yourself that way because he requires it?”

“Degrading, Slave …. Embarrassing ….”

“But your fingers, Mistress. You really couldn’t stop them once he told you it was time?

“No Slave….I really couldn’t.”

I imagined Mistress in this private bathroom, her knickers dangling from an ankle, skirt hiked up, her fingers desperately rubbing her clit, as she pressed her phone to her ear, hearing his smutty story of her submission and his own lustful sounds.

“Maybe we should finish this conversation at home, Mistress.”

And of course, we did, at length, not long thereafter, back in our bed.

The advantages of car pooling.

These last few weeks, Molly and Mick have done something never experienced over 20 years together: ride to and from work together. In the past we commuted in different directions. And for several years the commute built up a whole lot of frequent flyer miles.

But now we work just a few blocks from one another in River City’s “seen better days” downtown.

As you would expect, Slave drives. Mistress lounges feet up on the dash, checking emails and twitter. Updating her calendar. And more recently, texting our Western correspondent, and her new “Master”, M.

Yesterday, on the way home, Mistress brought me up to date on their latest mutual fantasy. And I guess I share a bit of the blame for planting the seed of this one.

The sequence as this developed went something like this:

Earlier this week, in an effort to entice M and B to meet us over July 4^th on our undisclosed Mountain location, Mistress suggested some hiking would be on the agenda.

By email to both of them, I tossed on the following image:

Molly nude, hands tied behind her, leather collar, leash, tevas. M holding the leash.

M worked this into a more fully developed fantasy – which I assume had played a role in some of their phone sex, and Mistress’s outrageously horny demeanor these last few days.

On the drive home last night, Mistress scrolled through her emails and summarized some bits of it.

“He would take us to a trail head with no cars.  Then, in the parking lot, he would have me strip, Slave.”

“Yes, that’s how I suggested things would start, Mistress….guess I am a little crazy.”

“No, Slave. Glad you have such a twisted imagination.”

“And then?”

“I told him that it would be fine with me naked. I don’t burn easily.”

It’s true, Mistress has a very dark complexion. She and Barack could be siblings.

“But he would be careful about that. He said he would slather me with sunscreen before we hit the trail.”

I imagined Mistress bent over the hood of the car, M’s fingers smearing a nice coating of Number 15 in places not likely to get too much ultra violet rays. Unless she was staked out in a grassy meadow somewhere.

“And then, Mistress?”

“He’d stash my cloths in a backpack, other than my shoes. I could wear those.”

“Did he mention a leash.”

“No, Slave.  But the thought of that …. Ummmm.”

“What else, Mistress?”

“He said that as we hiked he would use me whenever he wanted. However he wanted. Wherever he wanted.”

“Did that make you horny, Mistress?”

“What do you think, Slave?”

With that she reached across the console, her hand landing between my legs. She liked what she found.

‘Seems like the story has a similar effect on you, Slave.”

The evidence spoke for itself.

She picked up her I-phone and snapped the photo above. Then she texted it off to M.

As previously noted, Mistress is a tease.

HNT / Mistress Exercises Her Sub Side Impulses

The photo was taken during a pre-Thanksgiving road trip for some early season skiing in southern Colorado. I remember it coming at the height of Mistress’s infatuation with E, the former college lover who popped up one day in her inbox, but turned out to be, shall we say, rather shallow. Entries from last November will bring you up to date with that backstory.

But E did arouse Mistress’s interest in the whole submission thing, which we worked to a mutual sexual lather. And I recall that day, and our night in a low rent road side motel near Pagosa Springs, as a “can you believe this shit” extravaganza. Six times in 24 hours. It may be a record that we will never even try to challenge again.

Well, never say never.

The picture came up last evening after Mistress was paging through her E collection to send some choice shots to our Western correspondent, her new Master, M.

She showed me her selection. This one draped over a picnic table surrounded by fall snow in a high mountain pass; another shot of her tied to lounge chair on the patio at our Western undisclosed location, collecting some rays last summer. She was doing her best to entice M, make him crazy, as crazy as she has become.

How crazy you ask?

Yesterday, we drove to work separately. As she was walking to her car, about to head home, she called me at my office.

“Well you may not approve of this, Slave….but I have an interesting story for you.”

“I can’t imagine that I would not approve, Mistress….but now I am very curious.”

“Do you want to know now, or when we get home?”

“How about a preview, Mistress?”

“Well….let’s just say that I got him off from the office, Slave.”

“And you?”

“Me too, Slave….”

Argh.

“Well since I have the cage on, and it’s feeling very tight already, maybe you should save the details until later, Mistress.”

As it turns out I got home before she did. She had to make a pit stop for nail maintenance. But my mind had her on the phone with M, debriefing, or maybe even re-enacting their afternoon adventure.

I was up in our room when Mistress climbed the stairs, chatting casually on the phone.

She smiled at me.

“It’s our friend, M”, she said to me, giddy with a certain sexy delight.

Then, back into the phone, “Well I need to tend to my husband, now….. talk to you later. I will look at the map….maybe we can find somewhere in between….”

The door closed, Mistress, had that needy look. My cage was unlocked. (At last).

I heard the additional details on my knees, my face parked between Mistress’s legs. She was already wet and ready for me.

They involved Mistress sequestered in a private loo at her office.

“Did you go there because he required it, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave…he insisted.”

“And did he ‘handle’ himself too, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. I could hear him as he came. He was very vocal.”

I suspect he was.

“He had me take a picture, Slave. And he sent me one too.”

Sure enough. Later she showed me the photos on her I phone, texted back and forth: her open lips; his cock.

She has it bad.

After Mistress came, she wanted my cock.

“Let me suck it Slave.”

She did, with long slow strokes along its hard shaft, as I stood there beside the bed.

I was aching for her.

And it was still Abstinence day.

And all the talk and her warm mouth made me all the more desperate for her.

“Maybe I should make you come in my mouth, if you really want a break from Abstinence Day.”

You may think this is odd, but that’s a hard one for me.

“But wouldn’t you like a hard cock to fuck you, Mistress.”

“Well, If you put it that way, Slave….”

On this occasion, Mistress’s resolve was compromised, no doubt as a result of all that remote foreplay.

Wondering if Mistress's Abstinence Resolve will Crumble.

I am wearing my cage today.

Mistress has an early meeting out in the burbs, so not driving together today. So Mistress is exercising her right to make sure I don’t get into trouble. No problem there from me. Mistress has gone pretty easy on me of late, so a day in the cage will hardly be burdensome. Just a nice reminder of who is n charge.

The more challenging part is Mistress’s decision to re-impose my abstinence day today. It’s a rule that has been honored only in the breach of late. Buy considering our heightened level of sexual activity the last few days, it might be particularly hard to forego my privileges to fuck Mistress’s tight little cunt today.

Yeah, I know that is counter-intuitive. All this sex seems like it deserves a 24 hour “time out” every now and then to recharge my aging male testosterone reserves.

But I find that the more I do it, the more I want to do it. Crazy. I guess it’s the way a runner needs more and more miles to keep finding that elusive “runners’ high”. But it’s not as hard on your knees.

In any event, it has been a crazy couple of days here in River City.

Mistress’s hot infatuation with our Western correspondent has gotten her into a state where she oozes sexuality and is horny as hell. She is a potential threat to any man she encounters. .And I have the (fortunate) task of trying to keep her satisfied so that she does not go off the deep end, jump on a plane headed west, and show up at this lucky stud’s office and demand to be fucked across his desk. Preferably from behind.

It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it .

So Monday morning – she’s up early enough and we have quick but satisfying sex before heading to work.

On the way home that day, she talks about some texts from her friend, and seems to be fidgeting in her seat.

She had also gotten an email from her local Dom, anxious to set up their next date. Mistress was torn a bit. She seems so focused on Western M that it may be ahrd for her to re-focus on the cock closer at hand.

When we got home, Worship promptly, ensued – me on my knees, her legs spread, bike shorts hanging from one ankle - before we head out for our bike ride. It was required just to take her edge off.

Later that evening, after dinner, we had a chance for a more prolonged encounter. She was pleasured with my lips once again, and then I fucked her properly, pounding into her with an intermittent pace – a little faster, then a little slower. I was trying to give Mistress several orgasms to allow her to sleep well. And all along we chatted about what was on her mind.

“You’d like to be at his mercy, wouldn’t you Mistress….”

“Yes, Slave….I would.”

“You want him to make you beg for those orgasms, don’t you Mistress?”

“Yes Slave…I would ….maybe you should let him know.”

(Mistress thinks this is all a big conspiracy – that I have fed Western M the inside intelligence required to enthrall Mistress. Not so. Other than the clues that he might pick up as a fan o’ the blog, he’s been on his own.)

Soon we were both over the edge, me collapsed on top of her, and hoping this remedy would get her through the night.

Tuesday the cycle seemed to accelerate. I pleased her with my mouth, She allowed me a quick fuck to accommodate her early meeting at work. Then we were out the door.

On the way to work I suggested that maybe she and Western M should figure away to have phone sex during work hours.

“Maybe you should get him to jack off for you, Mistress. It would only be fair.”

“Hmm….I have never done that before Slave. You and he are the story tellers.”

I reminded her of the phone and video sex chats we used to have when we were commuting.

“I am sure you can find the words, Mistress. All you need to do is describe how hot he makes you and what to do to his cock.”

Waiting for a report on that one.

At lunch time, Mistress was over to my office for some worship. She took a funny picture of the scene to taunt her distant lover, and texted it off to him, even as I was sucking at her cunt.

On the way home, Mistress told me that M described a cabin in the mountains where he would like to take her someday for a weekend of enslavement. And, fool that I am, I had no problem with that.

“Tell him you don’t need my permission. It’s in our contract. I will even throw in the bondage equipment.”

And of course Mistress promptly texted this good news to M. No doubt he thinks we are insane.

At home, Mistress was again desperate for some worship, even before our bike ride. And when I was done, she needed my cock too. So we had a “quicky” before sliding our bike shorts back on.

This morning, Mistress had another early meeting. SO she was up early. I heard her rustling around so came up with my computer and coffee to join her in bed. She was giggling about some emails she and M had exchanged, reading me the “good” parts. When she was done I was allowed to please her with my lips and tongue.

She had told M that it was my Abstinence Day. He replied by questioning her resolve.

“I’ll bet he ends up getting some….”

But at least this morning, Mistress’s resolve held. Though she seemed tempted.

After I finished pleasing her, she reached down and noticed that my cock was stretching out a bit.

“Hmmmm. Looks good Slave.”

She bent over, took it in her mouth. I could feel the cool touch of her lips and the maddening stroke of her hot tongue. My cock was quickly at full alert.

But just as quickly she pulled away, climbed out of bed and wrapped herself in her fluffy green terry robe.

“Sorry….but I do need to get in the shower, Slave. Remember, no touching while I am gone”.

Arggh. But of course, I obeyed.

You will not be surprised that it took a few minutes for me to get ready to put this cage on.

Day of Rest?

Sunday Afternoon….

After one of those Sunday morning switch sessions where Mistress is forced to endure a cunning mix of pain, frustration and forced orgasms, it’s not unusual for us to take the “day of rest” concept at its word. But by Sunday afternoon, Mistress was a horny little vixen, and was not to be denied. And who was I to deny her?

Not surprisingly, her prurient mood was stoked by our western correspondent. After we both tended to some weekend errands, we had settled onto our deck. Summer had finally arrived in River City and it was hot and humid.  Mistress planned to recharge her solar batteries and get some color for her killer legs, the ones that go au natural these days. 

The teens were off to a water park, Mistress was reading a book. I was paging through the Times. Then the chime of her text message began to ring.

“He says he won on the golf course again, Slave.”

It’s nice that she keeps me updated.

“He probably would like a blow job as a reward, Mistress.”

I heard her tapping away.

“I told him that if I was there, I would give him a blow job for the win.”

I imagined tM and me involved in a golf match, him prevailing. And oral sex from Molly  was our stakes. Molly would have been happy to kneel on the 18^th green to pay off.

“You are a flirt, Mistress”.

“Does all this bother you, Slave. Should I be paying more attention to you, instead.”

“No…it’s fine by me. It seems to make you happy, Mistress. And for some crazy reason it makes me hot too….”

Yes, I was stirring down there again.

“It does Slave….kind of makes me giddy.”

It’s fun to see this crush Mistress has developed, up close and personal.

And it was not long afterwards that Mistress, her juices flowing, suggested we adjourn to our bedroom.

And the Hitachi was on her mind.  (We should be getting regular product placement checks by now.)

“I think I want it again, Slave…do you mind?”

Of course not. Why not let the machine do the work.

I switched it on, and pressed it against her. But there was one thing more.

“Let’s take a picture for him, Slave.”

Why not. I suspected I would not be getting any that afternoon, but for his little provocateur text messages.

We snapped a shot of the business end of the Power Tool pressed against Mistress’s naked cunt. Then she texted it off to him.

She really is a tease.

This time I felt no need to prolong the “agony”. And Mistress seemed grateful, on her back, pumping her leaking pussy hard against it, building herself to a whopper of an orgasm that had her face all red when I was done.

I asked permission and she allowed me to fuck her. I climbed on top, my cock needing no further encouragement than the sight of her own climax and the friction it enjoyed against he luscious thigh.  I worked at it for a while, hoping to get her off one more time before it was my time to beg.

But she had her own idea.  

“Let me get on top, Slave.”

Hmmm. She was needy. Wanted one of those big ones that only comes with her riding me, grinding away against me, cock buried deep inside.

“Of course, Mistress….and if it helps, feel free to imagine what it would be like to ride M’s cock….”

That seemed to get her going all the more.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, Mistress….”

“Yes, Slave. I would. Is that bad?”

“No Mistress….not at all.”

All I had to do was lay there, and sqeeze a nipple or two, as she built herself to a very big one, grinding hard and desperately against me, until she carried herself  over the top, moaning, lurching down against me. Then she  rode me a bit more, her fingers toying with my balls…I was close myself, but could tell she was exhausted.

We flipped over, me driving into her now, and not long thereafter, begging to come.

Afterwards, we slept a bit, in a heap.

I guess the “day of rest” thing can sometimes be honored in the breach.

To Spank, or Not to Spank

Molly and Mick were out late Saturday night. Maybe had one too many Amaretto’s or Jamieson’s (can you guess who drinks which one?). And as we lay in bed reading the papers, I was trying to decide whether I had the energy to exercise my “switch” option. Then again, maybe my reticence was that I had been so thoroughly taken by Mistress with her strap-on Saturday afternoon that I was in a deeper subbie frame of mind.

Then the text message chime on Mistress’s I-phone went off. It was our Western correspondent, checking in with Molly on his way to an early golf game. (M may be even more into golf than sex, but I am not judging).

As a dutiful assistant in his seduction of Molly, I offered to take a picture for her to share, and snapped one of her breast peaking out from under the lovely black and white silk confection she was wearing.

“This might distract him on that first drive, Mistress.”

She sent it off, and his rapid response reflected his delight.

I thought it might be helpful to get M’s advice on how Mistress should be handled .

“Ask him whether you should be spanked or not spanked this morning, Mistress?”

Mistress giggled, and tapped away.

In a few minutes, the response came back.

“Spanked….definitely. But I have some other ideas too.”

“Yes?”, Mistress responded.

We waited a bit. Was he washing his balls? Ah….golf balls, I mean.

“My assistant should insert that little white probe into your ass and move it in and out as he spanks you.”

Well, of curse I was willing, but Mistress likes to keep her ass virgin, at least for now.

“No….my ass stays out of this action,” she responded. She is going to hard to break on that account. But I am not counting M out.

So I had my instructions, and went to work. The red cuffs were locked on, and Mistress’s hands were affixed over her head. Then she was rolled over toward me. We were cuddled close, her bottom readily accessible. And the spanking began.

I took a good bit of time building it to a nice rosy glow, all the while murmuring in her ear about what M would do to her if he had the chance.

“I suspect he and B would take turns on your bottom, Mistress.”

“I am a little afraid. I think they could be pretty cruel.”

“Well certainly they would spank you harder than me, Mistress. But it might be good for you. And I bet you would like it when they slid their fingers between your legs to see how wet you were.”

“I suppose I would, Slave.”

I did just that from time to time, making Mistress squirm. She was sopping.

Once her bottom showed some nice red marks on each cheek I stood and took a picture. Then showed it to her.

“Let’s send that to M, Slave.”

She is a little tease.

I settled back on the bed and picked up the Hitachi. Mistress did not complain, it’s become her favorite toy, no doubt in part because M is so insistent on its use. A model of orgasmic efficiency, that little power tool.

Mistress was still on her tummy, and I slid the big white bulb between her legs.

“Ahhhh….yes Slave right there.”

She moaned, and ground herself against the tool. Oh, she is so into that feeling. I made sure she had a nice taste of it, then abruptly pulled it away.

“Hey….stop that.”

“What’s the rush, Mistress? We have about an hour before our busy day begins.”

She said some bad things. Petulance becomes her. I slowly reapplied the tool to her, which changed her tune a bit, until I pulled back again.

Her hips were still moving against the bed, frustrated.

“That is so mean.”

“I’ll bet M and B could make you suffer like this for hours, Mistress.”

After a few cycles of this I had her begging for release. The sound of desperation in her voice is so endearing.

Of course, you know how this ends. I am neither cruel nor foolish. And by now my cock was sending a “get on with it fool” message to my hand. I went in for the kill.

And when Mistress is that needy, the first orgasm –thrashing against the bed, leg muscles clenched, pulling at the cord binding her wrists to the bed – is just a prelude to another and another, until she begs me to pull that damn machine away. What a lovely show.

“Fuck me now Slave. I need your cock.”

“Delighted to, Mistress”.

I took her from behind for a while, watching her reddened face pressed into the bed, taking in her addictive aroma as my face pressed against her back. Then finished Iourselves off after rolling her over. She seemed to come at least two more times with those little cries of her’s, before I begged for permission to come as well.

We collapse in a heap, and I think I slept a few minutes on top of her. Both exhausted from our play.

I was thankful that M had jumpstarted me out of my early morning lethargy. The dynamics of this odd, “evil” triangle can lead in unexpected, but very satisfying directions we are learning.

“Hand me my phone, Slave. We need to send M that photo.”

She examined the shot, and approved, poking at the little faux keyboard and sending it off.

“Let’s hope he’s not teeing off when his text chime goes off, Mistress.”

“Oh, that would be even better.”

A few moments later we got his response.

“Wow!”

(There were further adventures Sunday afternoon, but it is now time to awaken Mistress, so that will wait until tomorrow’s entry).

Mistress Takes, Then Gives the Orders

Mistress and our Western correspondent were at it again Saturday.

At around noon I arrived home from some morning errands, young grandson in tow. It was his day to hang out with “grampy”. I could see Mistress up on the deck. Stripped down to shorts and sports bra, taking in some of the sun peeking through heavy humid clouds. She had her phone to her ear.

She stood, smiled down at me. “It’s Mike …. He wants to know when we might be available this afternoon.”


Hmmm. So the question was….did Slave want to sit in as Mistress had suggested, bound to a chair, and watch the next act in their remote, mutual seduction. Or would I choose to pass, let them have their fun, and hear about it later.

Hard choice. But I opted for door number two: despite my overwhelming curiosity, I was thinking that M needs to train Mistress a bit more deeply – get her compulsively hooked on the command and control of his voice, before I joined the party. At least that was my choice on a day when I was given a choice. Mistress certainly had the authority to tell me exactly what to do, at least until she surrenders that authority to someone else.

“Why don’t you proceed without me today Mistress. Of course, I could be downstairs…somewhere else in the house.”

Now into the phone: “He says he does not need to sit in today….but could be downstairs.”

The rest I did not hear as Mistress sat back down in her chair. The thought that they were excitedly planning their afternoon “cyber-date” had my cock getting all thick and needy, even as I was unloading some groceries and the little grandson.

Later that afternoon, I announced I was taking him to his next stop. Mistress kissed us both goodbye, and I could tell she was moving onto her next engagement.

“Looking forward to your report.”

She gave me a hug and another kiss, with a bit of tongue thrown in. Then a whisper into my ear.

“Oh you will hear ALL the details, Slave. And then I’m going to fuck you in the ass.”

Yikes. I tried to put that out of my mind so I could focus on the drive to the next set of grandparents’ home, where they would take over grandson duties. But the drive back seemed interminable. My mind was filled with images of Mistress, guiding the Hitachi between her legs under his command. And the plans she had in store for me afterwards.

At home I found Mistress on the deck again, phone in hand.

“Well, Mick’s home now, so I guess I should hang up. We have some plans….”

She laughed, then signed off, that “cat that ate the canary” look in her eyes once again. Then she turned to me.

“Why don’t we go upstairs, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

In our room, she lounged on the bed, stripped to sports bra, but nothing else.

“Why don’t you fetch my harness and strap-on, Slave. I’m going to need it after I tell you how things went with M.”

I dug her equipment out of the closet, found the lubricant, and began my Q and A as she was sliding into it and tightening the belt. Mistress looked very dominant once she was fully suited up. Then she settled into bed next to me.

“So how did it go, Mistress?”

“Good slave …except I probably came too fast ….he didn’t get to finish the story.”

“How were you dressed, Mistress?”

“He asked that…in a sports bra, but nothing else.”

“And what did he tell you to do first, Mistress?”

“Turn on the Hitachi and put it against my clit, Slave.”

“Ahhh. The direct approach.”

By now Mistress’s hand had drifted to my cock. Her newly polished nails drifting oh so lightly along it’s expanding length. This was the indirect – drive slave crazy approach.

“Yes, he’s very direct. Knows exactly how to call the shots, Slave.”

Of course, she knew that this was driving me crazy, as I involuntarily pumped myself against her hand seemed to tighten its grip. Argh.

“And the story, Mistress? What did he come up with?”

M had told her on Friday that he had taken things into his own hands, so to speak, while mentally composing the story he would tell her. And of course Mistress got very turned on at the thought of our Western correspondent taking time from his busy day to jack off with thoughts of her in his head. What proud and sexy woman would not?

“He had me getting on a flight to Denver. Checking into a hotel. When he and B called to say they were coming up, I was to be naked and wait for them.”

I imagined the scene, Mistress stripping, anxiously awaiting. Maybe told to kneel and await them. Or perched on the bed, on all fours.

“And then Mistress, what did they do to you?”

“They arrived. Inspected me. It was all very humiliating.”

In my mind, Mistress was held by one of them, arms pinned behind her back, as the other used fingers to explore, pinch and probe all the good parts, slowly turning my Mistress into their squirming, leaking slave.

“But you would have been very turned on, I’ll bet, Mistress.”

“I am sure I would be, Slave.”

Her fingers were still gripping me. I was using teeth to gnaw on her hard nipples. We were both writhing a bit. Not wanting to rush to the next phase until the story was done.”

“And what else did the story include, Mistress?”

“I was told to lick B, make her very wet. Then M would fuck her a bit while I watched. At that point I was told to clean the juices off of M’s cock with my mouth.”

“How would that taste, Mistress?”

“Good Slave…very good.”

“and while he was telling you the story, Mistress, was he telling you what to do with the power tool.?

“Yes… pressed and moving against my clit, Slave…..it’s around then that I came….he said it was too fast. He didn’t get to finish the story….”

“That is a shame….Did he make you beg.”

“Yes, I was required to call him Sir, and to ask permission, Slave.”

“And did he say ‘yes’….”

“Of course, Slave, I would not have come otherwise.”

I was imagining what would happen if M had said “No”, or if he had told her to turn off the Hitachi once or twice during the proceedings, to extend Mistress’s ‘misery’…make her beg a little more, grovel a little deeper. Now that would have been very interesting to watch.

By now both of us had had enough of all this talk.

“Get in position, Slave. It’s that time.”

She stood, smeared some lubricant on her tool, as I slid onto that little too puffy belly you all saw on Friday, a pillow under me to give her the right angle of attack.

She repositioned me a bit and then climbed on top, efficiently finding her mark.

“How’s that Slave?”, she whispered, her mouth not far from my ear, as she gently then more forcefully began her assault.

“Good Mistress ….I suppose I need this every now and then…”

“Why Slave?”

“To remind me….”

“To remind you of what, Slave?”

She was taking me harder now, more deeply. And I could tell she was close.

“That I am yours, Mistress. That you are in charge…. You can use me for your pleasure as you wish.”

About this time Mistress had a shuddering moaning mini-orgasm, then she slowed a bit, before picking up the pace, leading to a stronger one that left her gasping at rest on top of me. After a moment she tossed her harness on the floor.

“Put in your device, Slave. Then get back here and fuck me….”

And I was anxious to do just that.

Later that evening, after a stop at a relative’s home for a cook-out we headed to a local bar, populated by a younger crowd out to hear a local rock band. It seemed that at every table one or more of the 20 and 30 something’s had their “electronics” out, tapping away. So it was not too bizarre for us to pull out our own devices as we waited for the band to end an interminable sound check.

Mistress scanned her texts and emails, and composed one for our Western correspondent. She showed me her message before hitting send:

“Mick is good with all this. I am willing to hop on a flight out west anytime. That’s the kind of babe I am. I live to serve. Sweet dreams. Molly.”

Yes, she is a woman of action. That’s my Mistress.












“

MIstress Gets Tag Teamed

At exactly 4:20 pm yesterday my text message chime woke me from my focus on a dull text I was revising. It was Mistress:

“Look forward to fucking. Western guy has gotten me hot.”

Hmmm. There would be an interesting story behind this one.

When we climbed into the car for the ride back home, I politely asked about the business lunch she had attended, but was way more interested in hearing about what had gotten her motor running in the midst of her work day.

“So what happened today with ‘Western guy’ Mistress?”

“Oh he started texting….and it got pretty raunchy, Slave.”

“Would you like to share?”

She pulled out the I-phone from her elegant little black leather backpack. (a very Domme-ish accessory, come to think of it. Think of the tools it could hide.) Then she scrolled through a long stream to find where things began.

As she read I could only focus on the highlights, as I navigated through traffic in a pop-up thunderstorm, while squirming a bit in my seat as my pants seemed suddenly much tighter.

The text exchanges she read to me featured his repeated references to her as his “little slave”, a description of some sordid plans he had in store for her, and his requirement that she  respond with a “Yes, Sir”, when replying to his insistence that she not cross her legs or otherwise seek to relieve the building sexual tension.  And there were some comments about the story he had in mind when they had their next  phone sex session this weekend.

Mistress wanted to confirm that their dialogue was also turning him on. She is considerate that way, as I well know. And sure enough, Western M, let her know that the turn on was mutual.

“So all of this made you pretty horny, Mistress?”

“Yes Slave. Is that bad?”

(Our readers should know that Mistress is and always has been very considerate about this. While our contract clearly allows her to “play the field”, a right I do not have, she seems almost too concerned about my feelings. She knows from empirical evidence that I enjoy her adventures (almost) as much as she does. Yet she is always taking my temperature to make sure I don’t get squeamish about it. Nice, don’t you think?)

“No, Mistress. Not bad at all. Very hot stuff.”

And, in fact, tossed into the text exchange were some little comments about how he had gotten her in the mood to fuck me ASAP.  Western M egged her on. He has my back, so to speak.

On the highway by now, I reached my hand over to where Mistress thighs met her skirt, that had hiked up in a high and revealing way. My fingers settled on their junction, against her silky black “work” panties. Damp it seemed. Was it the rain she had walked through on her way to meet me, or the work of Western M. As I toyed with her a bit, I enjoyed her little squirms. She was a horny little slut this afternoon.

When we got home the thunderstorm had cleared.

“Bike ride, Mistress?”

“”Uhhhh….for some reason I am not feeling the need today.”

“Sex?”

“Yes, Slave. That’s the need I am feeling.”

Now this was unusual. Mistress rarely passes up the exercise opportunity. She really was turned on and in need of a hard cock. I was just lucky to be the one available.

We went to our room. Mistress was out of her cloths in a flash. And so was I.

She lazed across my body, at a right angle, her head on my chest, my hand buried in her clean shaven cunt. And I began to rub …. and rub, occasionally sucking her left nipple into my mouth, holding it between my teeth. Mistress was very needy but she was going to build to something special. No quick and easy orgasms today.

Our conversation focused on Western M, his wife B and their plans for Mistress.

Her sitting on Mistress’s face, as M toyed with her cunt.

Both of them taking turns spanking her, their hands dipping between the cheeks of her ass to confirm how wet and desperate to come she was.

Mistress collared, hands tied, on her knees, serving them both with her mouth.

Or maybe locked in some basement dungeon by them, on call to serve their kinky needs.

“Imagine what it will be like to meet M on some trip out west someday, Mistress. He will have you so well programmed with his voice, that you might just fall to your knees the minute he opens his mouth.”

“Hmmmm….maybe so, Slave.”

I kept rubbing. Mistress was so very close, whimpering a bit. But holding back. AS if she was struggling to delay orgasm until someone not in the room at the time gave her permission.  Oh so hot she was.

“Would you like the Hitachi, Mistress?” (By now my hand was getting a little tired but I knew she needed more from me, not less).

She was conflicted, confused, in a lust filled haze of desire.

“Uhhhh…..no……well …maybe ….yes….do you mind, Slave?”

“Of course not, Mistress”.

I popped up from the bed. Observed Mistress lying there, legs spread, knees bent, damp all over, her hips slowly undulating. Needy. Oh so needy. I had to put her out of her “misery”. The power tool was her only hope.

I found it in its little hiding place, plugged it in and slid in bed next to her.

“Relax, Mistress this will only take a minute.”

She moaned at my bad joke, but seemed very happy when the machine kicked on with its dull roar and I pressed it against her clit.

It did only take about a minute from there. Mistress had lost the battle of resistance and within seconds her hands were over mine, pressing the soft white bulb hard against her self, directing the action. Her leg muscles were very well defined as she used them to force the device home even harder. And then exploded against it, throwing her head back in surrender to her needs.

In this case, I felt that I was giving Western M the assist, since he had gotten this ball rolling hours earlier with his smutty little text messages.

She caught her breath, still writhing a bit with the aftershocks, and said “Give me the cock now slave.”

I was happy to oblige.

“It’s good to know my cock has not been made obsolete by all this technology, Mistress.”

“No Slave. That’s what went wrong with my little lesbian adventure a few months back. The orgasms are nice, but I need a nice hard cock to finish the job.”

AS I slid into her , Mistress took over the verbal provocations.

“Maybe when we have that phone sex tomorrow, I will tie you to that chair over there.”

“Hmmm….that would be …interesting Mistress.”

“How would it feel to listen to him talk me to an orgasm, Slave. Yo hear me call him Sir and respond to his voice….”

“That could be hard, Mistress.”

“would it make you jealous, Slave.”

“Well, I guess…but not in a bad way.”

“Good…it’s good for you to see that other men want me.”

And that you want them, Mistress.”

The talk was getting us crazy all over again. I was pumping. Mistress was coming, again. And soon I was begging for permission. I just barely made it under the wire, and came with a series of shudders, spent, collapsing onto her.

After we came down, and were getting ready to take a sullen teen to dinner (her friends are drivig her crazy, she claims), I picked up the laptop and sent an email to Western M, thanking him for all his priming of the pump.

We had worked Mistress like a winning relay team, and I was the lucky one holding the baton on the last leg, for the celebration at the finish line.

Or maybe one of those WWF tag teams? Need to work on that metaphor.

Morning Sex

Last night Mistress was very very tired.  This new all day work gig is taking some getting used to.

After we zrrived home, and before Slave whipped up dinner (gnocchi, scallops, pesto and asparagus, if you are keeping track), I offered to worship, and Mistress was happy to accept. She stretched across the bed after shedding her black pants (a rare pants to work day for her), and I knelt.

Molly had on some lacy yellow undies of the thong variety. I pressed my mouth against them, inhaling the aromas of a MIstress who needed to relax. Soon I was pealing them away and applying my skills to help Mistress shed some of that work-a-day tension. And hopefully I succeeded. afterwards we lay there a bit as MIstress caught up with her facebook friends.

But by the time we settled into bed Mistress had to enforce some abstinence.

"Just too tired Slave. I am afraid you will have to wait until the morning. Make sure you wake me by 6:45...."

"No problem Mistress....You deserve a break from my penis every now and then."

In fact, Slave was a bit worn too.

But this morning, that was a different story.
I slept a little too late for early morning blogging. But made sure I was upstairs at the appointed time.

Mistress had those yellow undies on again, and I stripped them away and made sure she had a wake-up orgasm before turning to my own needs.

Mistress reached for me.

"Ummmm....the morning cock. Ready to go."

She gripped it and began to pump, her face pressed up against my shoulder.

And gripped it. And slid those nicely manicured nails up and down the length for a while.

She made me beg.

"WHy do you want to fuck me, Slave?"

Hard to compose a power point presentation on the subject under those circumstances.

My hand wormed its way between her thighs. Roving fingers seemed to produce another orgasm for her. She was leveraging this encounter well.

That might have been the tipping point that led her to finally give me permission.

Afterwards she showered and I began writing this abreviated entry. Hate to let our readers down.

But when she came back into the room, all fresh and damp, She picked up her cell and snapped a photo.

"Make sure this is on today's entry, Slave".

"Yes, Mistress."

Yuck.  Next time I will remember to suck in my late 50's gut.

HNT / After Hours in Slave's Office

We knew it would be a long one when the day started. Mistress’s new job has kept her running from meeting to meeting. And Wednesday morning started early, so there was no time for our regular a.m. sex-capade.

Our plans included dinner with some friends, then a late night at a local Jazz Joint to hear River City’s premier Diva pay interpret some of those American Standards.

So we planned a 6 pm meet-up at my office for some worship as the workday ended and before out evening began. I figured I might not get any (it was my Abstinence Day after all), but was prepared to “offer at up” just like the nuns had taught me all those years and rosaries ago.

But our semi-chaste plans were derailed, in part by provocation from our Western Correspondent, and Mistress’s uncontrolled (or is it uncontrollable) need to pander to his prurient interests.

Mid morning, Mistress forwarded me an email from Western M, which read in part:

“Loved the post this morning but it got me feeling very dominant. In fact I have been feeling that way since Sunday [the day they had that naughty phone sex]. Wonder why? B is going to get royally fucked this morning after I take the kids to school. She is also going to get a long hard bare bottom spanking ,.... which she richly deserves.”

Hmmm. It’s M who usually gets the spanking. B must have been a very bad girl. But he went on:

“I mentioned phone sex when you guys are driving home some night. That sounds like fun and we should do it sometime, but not the first time we perform with an ‘audience’ so to speak. My reasons are these: Everybody is too stressed after work, especially you Molly (and you are the one who has to perform)....You will be nervous masturbating in the car in public...I need to learn your triggers better... I need to train you better to my voice....and there would be no Hitachi. Don't want a failed attempt.

If you guys want to do this the first time should be with you two in bed ..... More comfortable surroundings...the hitachi...and an ‘assistant’ in case I need a nipple or clit pinched to get your attention Molly.

And as long as I am giving orders, Molly I expect you to make yourself available sometime this weekend for my pleasure. It’s good to have a twitchy clit during a hard day at work. You should be sitting on a red hot bottom too. B is going to be, and it’s good for her.

Hope this finds you hot and bothered, M”

Mistress’s response, which she also forwarded to me, confirmed that the email did make her “hot and bothered”, and of course that pushed my buttons too. Though I don’t think M needs any help in getting Mistress off once the Hitachi is turned on and he takes charge.

When I talked to Molly a few minutes later, I suggested that we might want to consider something more than worship. I was hoping to collect my “sex in the office” rain check from last week. Molly was game, and apparently shared our plans with M (what a tease), who sent me an email with some encouraging words. An odd triangle was developing, with Molly at the apex, and one of the participants about 1000 miles away. Yes, dear readers, it is weird.

When Mistress strode into my office at around 6 pm, all sexy and commanding in her business wear of black dress, pearls and pumps, she had her I-phone out.

“I was talking to M on the way over. He wants us to send him some pictures.”

And sure enough, when I came back from retrieving an ice tea for us, Mistress was snapping a photo – pearls resting on silky black undies set off against the royal blue of an upholstered chair. She sent it off to M via text.

The door was closed, and a chair pressed against it. Minimal security, but hopefully enough to keep the cleaning staff at bay. Mistress asked me to unzip her dress, and I complied, kissing the back of her neck, then running my hands over her breasts with some gentle squeezes thrown in.

She unbuttoned my pants, freed my belt, and let my pants fall to my ankles. My cock was already growing in stature. Then she picked up her camera again, snapped a shot of me from the waist down, in my state of semi-undress, and sent that one off to M. Yikes.

I spread a blanket on the floor, and Mistress lay there, now completely naked.

“This is the money shot, Mistress. And it’s HNT tomorrow.”

“Ok, Slave, but I get to approve.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Mistress posed provocatively for me. I snapped. It met her high standards. Mistress is a control freak about her image, as you might expect. Then she worked the controls to make sure M got a sneak peak at what you are seeing above here today. Hope you enjoy.

Then we did what Mick and Molly do. Me nibbling on her naked cunt until she bucked against my mouth, stifling her moans to keep the cleaning crew at bay. Then me taking her on the carpet, once permission was granted, begging for the chance to come when the time was right. It was a very satisfying way to break the sexual tension that M had stoked through the day.

When we came up from air, Mistress checked her I-phone and there were a few texts from M in response to those photos, including:

“Hey….are you lunatics trying to kill me….I’m riding my bike home here.”

I hope M had his helmet on.