Inquisition takes Unexpected Turn

Some of our comment makers and correspondents have expressed curiosity about the outcome of Sunday’s interrogation. Of course, the one sure thing was a mighty climax to the whole affair with Mistress, as always, going first. (Not to telegraph the ending).

But the little plot line I had been developing in this blog and with Mistress over the weekend required something more elaborate, and took a devilish and unexpected turn for us.

First the set up: Mistress slept in a bit later than normal on Sunday. Was it because we had been out late listening to some Rockabilly music at a seedy bar with friends? Or was she delaying the “inevitable”.

When I finally went upstairs, NY Times and computer in hand, she awoke, and we cuddled a bit, going through our local paper in the few minutes it deserved, then shifting to my laptop. She read with somewhat uncomfortable giggles my entry posted earlier that morning.

But soon it was time for the “interrogation” to begin.

Mistress had slept naked, so there was no need for me to rip the cloths from her luscious body. A shame.

I locked her red leather cuffs to her wrists, linked with a little metal clip, then pulled them over her head. They were secured with a leather thong to a steel eyebolt at the center of our bedhead.

I rolled her over onto her stomach, sliding a pillow under her hips to give her smooth and sexy ass sufficient “loft” for what I had in mind.

Then I used some strips of a beach towel we had mutilated last fall at a Michigan B & B (necessity being the mother of invention), to tie first one ankle and then another to the posts at the foot of the bed. Mistress legs were spread very, very wide, ankles affixed to opposite ends of the bed. (Watch for these illustrations in a posting soon).

Now Mistress could squirm all she wanted to, but could go no where as I proceeded with my inquiry.

A few slaps to her ass with my hand warmed her up.

“I just have a few questions for you, Mistress.”

“I am not hiding anything, Slave”, she exclaimed, all cocky and confident.

“I recommend saving your confession until I have proceeded a bit further.”

Unhooking the riding crop from a nearby doorknob, I flexed it in my hands, making sure Mistress knew what she was going to experience next.

I unleashed a series of quick strokes to Mistress’s bottom that had her ankles straining against the ties tightly binding her to the bed.

“That hurts, Slave.”

“Does it loosen your lips some, Mistress?”

“I really have nothing to confess, Slave.” But she was sounding a bit less sure of herself.

“I hope that is not your final answer, Mistress”.

I used the crop to shower a series of far gentler blows to the plump and fluid lips protruding between Mistress’s legs. This resulted in some very nifty jerking and whining.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Her bottom squirmed from side to side. My fingers replaced the business end of the crop.

“You are very, very wet, Mistress.”

She ground herself against my digits, which emerged dripping. She seemed to like this part of the inquisition.

Soon I realized that my crop would not result in a “confession”. So I decided to change my tools of persuasion.

It was time to crank up the Hitachi Magic Wand.

As the machine began a low buzz in slow speed, Mistress raised her head off the pillow, craning her neck in my direction.

“Oh no, not that…”, But her tone was dripping with sarcasm, not fear.

I was determined to make her regret that haughty tone. She would not get the sort of orgasm the power tool delivers unless I got what I was looking for.

I used some sleight of vibrator hand at first. Sliding the white head of the tool directly between her legs, exactly where she wanted it to be.

“Nice, Slave”, she murmured.

The crop and my fingers had warmed her up to the point where a quickie climax could be had very promptly. But just as she began to pump with earnest against the churning device, I pulled it away, and let it rest against her inner thigh.

“Nooo…”

“What’s the problem, Mistress?”

“I want it slave. Don’t stop now.”

“What do you want, Mistress?”

“You know … I want to come. I want to come against that damn thing.”

“Well then …. You need to make it worth my while, Mistress.”

A dialogue developed in which Mistress asked me to be more specific. What did I think was going on? What did I want to hear? Did I expect her to make something up?

All the while I toyed with the device, gently sliding it to the apex of her thighs, then pulling it away as Mistress got a tad bit closer to her objective. Her mounting frustration was a marvel to behold. Isn’t this where the corrupt and lecherous Spanish Priests would require the sexy Jewess to sign the confession that had already been written up for her. I guess I should have come prepared with such a text.

Ultimately the confession was rather mundane. Yes, she had been in touch with her old flame E in recent weeks. He wanted to talk, To apologize for his fickle behavior in the fall. For getting her all hot and bothered and leaving her twisting in the wind.

Mistress had taken his call(s?). Had humored him, but with caution.It was unclear whether this was an ongoing flirtation between them, but I was not going to press my advantage any farther.

And yes, Mistress confessed that the thought of E taking her over his lap, punishing her with a nice firm spanking, and then making her suck his cock was still a powerful turn on for Mistress.

I told Mistress that all of that was fine with me. That I only wanted to feel included, rather than excluded from the cyber action.

I was satisfied with the candor I had wrung from Mistress. And she was to be rewarded.

She was still squirming as I took her “confession” and granted my absolution, my hand between her legs, gently fondling her and marinating my fingers in her juices.

I picked up the humming device and thrust it between her legs, then under her. Right where she wanted it.

Her leg muscles strained against their bonds, desperate to give her leaking parts better purchase against the vibrating head of the device.

I watched with delight as her ass humped against it, felt the tension in her leg and ass muscles build, and heard the muted roar building low in her lungs then bursting out into moan of satisfaction, which she tried but failed to bury in the pillow under her head.

She moved her hips back and forth against the tool to wring out the last of her orgasm, and I could hear her sobs of relief to have her “trial” over.

And I kept the device buried there for a while, wondering if I could get a two-fer out of her. But that was pressing her luck. She was exhausted.

“Off, Slave….please, turn it off.”Now she really was begging.

So I showed her mercy. At least for a few moments.

I let her rest a bit, as I stripped away my jeans and t shirt. Then I mounted her from behind, slowly sliding my hard cock into her soaking cunt. Of course, she was more than ready to be taken that way, and I rode her to another satisfying orgasm, first for her, then for me.

But that is not the end of the story.

Later that day, Mistress shared with me her trepidations about what had transpired.

Yes, the sex was good. Spectacular.

But Mistress felt that I was accusing her of dishonesty. And it brought back in a traumatic way her recollection of my own betrayal of her about 2 years ago. Somehow my suggestion of a lack of candor reminded her of my own lack of candor, back in those dark days for our relationship.

And though I had intended it all to be playful fun, to amuse ourselves and our readers, Mistress took the whole episode quite differently once all the sexual energy had been fully discharged.

So a lesson was learned by me about the limits of this switch thing. The reason I am the Slave and she is the Mistress goes back to my breach of trust.

A bridge was crossed during my interrogation that should not have been crossed.

In the last 48 hours, Mick and Molly have struggled with the consequences, and, thankfully, are on the mend. Hopefully those of you out there following these adventures will send some good vibes our way to help with that process.

Your encouragement, support, and snarky and/or smutty repartee have made life better for us and will surely help us through a challenging patch. (You know who you are!!).