Making Mistress Squirm

Yesterday was one of those days where this blogger had an abundance of material to work with, so excuse me if I spread my reporting over two parts. You don’t want me to skip the good parts do you?

Sunday morning: After some coffee and paging through the papers, I informed Mistress that it was time for her to surrender control for our weekly switch ritual. The  red leather cuffs came out, and the  little locks secured them in place. And without much aforethought, Mistress arms were spread and secured to a long braided leather rope that stretches around the head of our bed, leaving her on her back, rather than facing down.

“Oops. What was I thinking. I can’t really spank you this way. I may have to resort to torture by teasing….”

Mistress gave me a faux worried look.

“I might prefer the spanking, Slave.”

We’d soon find out.  I cuddled up next to her, no reason to rush, and began kissing, sucking, fondling with mouth and fingers. It did not take long for Mistress to begin to squirm, her naughty parts damp and inviting.

I slid away, stood up.

“Where are you going?”, Mistress moaned, with a little slightly frustrated pout on her smiling lips.

“Tools, Mistress. We need tools.”

The riding crop was hanging from a door knob. The Hitachi Magic Wand was tucked away in her closet.  I retrieved both.

First the crop.  I slapped it with medium force down against her, high up on her thigh.

“Hey, that hurt”, she whined, clearly startled.  “That’s not where you are supposed to use that.” 

“Maybe the crop’s not just for bottoms anymore, Mistress.”

“Look….there’s a welt where you hit me.”

Sure enough, there was a cute red mark, perfectly shaped like the head of the crop, rising in a little puff on Mistress’s smooth and unblemished thigh. Oops.

I slapped the crop very gently against her cunt, which seemed to flinch away, but then responded more welcomingly when I began to slide it’s head slowly and suggestively against her swollen lips.

“Maybe we should go for some symmetry, Mistress.”

I walked to the other side of the bed. She fruitlessly pulled on her restraints, tried to squirm away, but to no avail. I slapped the crop down against her. 

“”Owww….you’re mean.”

But she seemed to admire the matching welt that popped up so promptly on her right thigh. And seemed pleased when I put the crop down and slid back against her in the bed, Hitachi  plugged in and at the ready.

“You get just a taste now, Mistress.”

I turned on the power tool, let it press ever so gently against Mistress’s clit, which seemed to be poking out to meet it.

“Harder, Slave. Press it harder against me.”

“Now that’s the sort of desperation I like to hear, Mistress”.

I shut it down.

Instead, I slid on top of her. Her legs were spread wide. My cock was hard. The mark was easy to find. I filled her much to my satisfaction. But not to hers.

“Hey, what about my orgasm?”

Mistress is spoiled. She always gets at least one before I am allowed to fuck her. As it should be.  But not today?

“I fell like fucking you now, Mistress. And so it shall be.”

But it was not going to be a fast one. I slid deeply into her, pressed myself home and began to kiss her. Deep and long, as my hips gently worked against her sliding very, very slowly, back and forth. There was no rush. And I wanted to make both of us last. I believe I had her on the brink a few times as the minutes passed. Her breathing slowed, speeded, slowed again.  5, maybe 10 minutes passed. Nice.

But when I knew I could not take it much longer, I slowly pulled away. Mistress had a dreamy look in her eye. But she was no less horny than when I started.

“Nice, Mistress….but I know that wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted the superior weaponry that our power tool represents.” If they improve these things much more, cocks could become obsolete.

She didn’t deny it, by the way. Just seemed grateful as I propped myself up next to her, and switched the Hitachi  on.

But It was not a direct, dumbed down assault, much to her continued frustration. I advanced, then withdrew, threw in some feints, a commando raid or two. I mounted the blue “torpedo” to the end of the device, and teased her with that a bit, sliding it’s full width into her.

“I like it the other way better, Slave.”

“Let’s see if I can change your mind, Mistress.”

I pressed it deep into her, poking for the g-spot. It was a good way to make her writhe and wriggle. I like that, if only for the opportunity to alliterate when I write it all down.

She almost gave in to that approach, despite her demands for the little white bulb on her clit. By this point, I began to feel a little mercy, and was getting pretty darned horny for release myself. So I took the blue accessory  off. It was time for the final assault.

I misdirected  her with some flanking movements, as I asked her to consider what our Western correspondent M and his wife B would do to her if she ever fell into their clutches.

We ran through the options. Spanking. M taking the ass he so coveted. B taking her with that strap-on, etc., etc.  All the while the tool was very un-subtly pressing against her, exactly where she wanted it. It was amusing to watch her thigh muscles tense, then relax, then tense again as she pressed herself against the white bulb. She was oh so close.

“What if they played with your cunt just like this, Mistress. But said that if you came without their permission, you would have to endure a very hard spanking as punishment.?”

“I think I’d be tempted, Slave.”

It seemed that this thought was the one that became the final straw. Mistress lunged against the power tool that I pressed against her, her arms straining against the bindings that pinned her to the bed.

She moaned, clutching at it with her  thighs. And when she was done with that one, I pressed on, unrelenting, until, moments later, she did it all over again.

I showed mercy then, switching it off as she relaxed back against the bed, her face red and puffy, as if she’d had a long cry.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

And of course, I was desperate to oblige.

Sunday Afternoon: After we recovered we spun off into our sundry Sunday activities. Some yard work. My tedious visit to “Grammy”. And I had an appointment with one of our teens to see Ironman II.  After the movie, we got home early evening in time to whip up some dinner.

I found Mistress on the bed, slightly disheveled, with that “Cat Ate the Canary” look on her face. Something was up.

“What are you gloating about, Mistress?”

“Oh…interesting afternoon, Slave.”

I could tell that the interesting stuff had to do with some “bad” behavior.

“Really?”

“Some phone sex with our friend.”

“Which friend?”

Well this is where we need to break. Time to wake someone up.