Molly and Mick Have a Literary Adventure

Yesterday Molly and Mick took a little literary detour after a vigorous 20 mile bike ride in a beautiful but little used federal park not far from our mountain hideaway.

Our destination was up a 5 mile dirt road, on a hillside in a pine forest on the slopes of the Sangre de Christo mountains.

At the end of this road sits a former goat ranch, carved out of a pine forest. Hand cut logs were used by 19th Century settlers to build a handful of rustic cabins, and a rambling cottage that was occupied for several years by a literary lion of the early 20th Century: D.H. Lawrence.

After Lawrence’s day, Georgia O’Keefe spent time on her back under a towering tree, painting a work she titled “Lawrence’s Tree.”

We saw the memorial his wife Frieda built for Lawrence years after his death, his ashes mixed into the concrete so former or would be lovers could not spirit him away.

Romantic, no?

Molly and Mick strolled around the grounds, gaping at the giant tree O’Keefe had painted, and sitting on the front porch that Lawrence, Frieda and the artist Dorothy Brett had surely occupied in their day, on similar sunny but cool summer afternoons. And we must have been infected by the writer’s sensual temperament.

“How would you like some worship, Mistress?”

“Here, Slave…..?”, she said with mock surprise, as she sat on a little bench, built into a corner of Lawrence’s porch.

There was no one else around. We were the only visitors. If there was a staff patrolling the grounds, we had not seen them. Presumably we would hear them coming, right?

Without further discussion, Mistress slid off her tight black riding shorts, fumbling a bit to get them over and off her riding shoes. Her, by now, well tanned cunt was perched at the edge of the bench, readily available for my attention. And I fell to my knees on the hard and worn wooden floor.

Fortunately, it did not take too much attention with my lips and tongue to get Mistress to the point where her hips convulsed against my mouth, and she moaned with delight, squirming away from my probing tongue.

“That’s enough, Slave”, she said, her face a pleasant shade of red. Then she had a proposition for me.

“Would you like to fuck me here, right now, Slave?”

But that might be pressing our luck. And that bench did not seem all that comfortable for the use Mistress proposed. I did not want either one of us to acquire splinters for our bottoms.

But Mistress gave me a rain check, which I collected later that afternoon. And Mistress rewarded me by requiring me to insert that little white probe.

“I need a particularly hard cock this afternoon, Slave.”

I was able to deliver, and Mistress seemed to enjoy riding it to one of those special, heartfelt orgasms that make a Slave proud.

Maybe she had been infected by the spirit of Lady Chatterly. though I think my mistress could show her a thing or two.

Afterwards, we drifted off for a nice nap, and showered for a dinner engagement with some friends. But before we were off for the evening, Mistress received a text from her long distance Master.

“He wants to talk a bit, Slave.”

“No problem, Mistress.”

Mistress was naked, as has been her practice this week. And she settled onto a chaise on our patio, visible only to some decorative horses in the pasture out back. (They have gotten an eyeful this week).

But as I was dressing, Mistress popped back into the house.

She had sunglasses on but nothing else, her hair still damp from the shower. And a very wide grin.

“Could you fetch me the Hitachi, Slave?”

Ah, so it would be that type of chat. I dutifully arranged the extension cord and power tool for her, making sure it was operating properly. Then left Mistress and M to their fun.

I tended to some work on my computer. Mistress and M chatted away. But soon she was back in the house looking for me.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Only one today Slave….he just got home. Said he would masturbate and think of me.”

“I think you like inspiring that sort of behavior, don’t you Mistress…. You like the thought of him playing with his cock, obsessing about you….”

“It’s … nice, Slave. Very nice.” But Mistress’s wide smile said something more than “nice.”

Somehow, somewhere, I sense that D.H. Lawrence would approve.

In Negotiations

This blog got started after Molly and Mick entered into a very detailed contract requiring my rather thorough and complete submission to Mistress’s will. We negotiated the terms after I prepared a draft using elements from other similar agreements found on the internet.

But we also included a renewal option that would allow me to cancel or ask for changes to the contract once a year, on a date in mid-July (our wedding anniversary).

I mentioned this approaching date to Mistress yesterday. Of course, I have no plans to cancel the contract. It’s been a very healthy development for our marriage, and some elements – including Mistress’s right to enjoy the attentions of others – have acted as quite an unanticipated accelerant for our sex lives, as our regular readers no doubt can tell.

And while the contract certainly allows Mistress to take some extreme liberties at my expense, she has been abundantly merciful. It seems I rarely am required to wear my cock cage these days, primarily because we drive to and from work together. Nor have I been leased to another Mistress.

But no contract is perfect. Surely it could use some enhancement. So when I mentioned the upcoming date, I asked Mistress if she wanted to make any changes for her benefit, since I have no requests for amendments on my own behalf.

And she asked for some assistance, from our Western Correspondent.

Mistress was sunbathing nude on our patio, reading a book. Slave was doing some actual work on my laptop, under the portal and in the shade.

Then her phone rang. It was M, checking in on her morning activities.

Here’s how I heard Mistress’s side of the conversation.

“So Slave reminds me that our contract is coming up for renewal. There is one day a year when he can get out, or ask for changes.”

“He says he doesn’t want out. Isn’t that right, Slave.”

I can speak when spoken to under these circumstance.

“Of course, Mistress.”.

“But I am thinking, maybe I should make some changes…what do you think?”

“Yes, I suppose I could use your advice. Maybe I should retain you as my special counsel.”

“Great….Slave forward the contract to me so I can pass it onto M….he’s going to look it over and see if any of the terms need to be ‘tightened up’.

‘Of course, you might want to tighten up the contract on me….right now I can have sex with anyone I want…isn’t that right, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress…of course.”

“But I bet you’d like to limit that to only you, wouldn’t you, M?”

Mistress laughs. A very seductive laugh. She’s squirming a bit on her chair. This talk is making her as hot as it is me, I suspect.

“Well I guess that would have to be in a contract between you and me…. Without that, I don’t think I am ready to give up my freedom just yet.”.

No doubt this had M’s brain buzzing a bit.

I forwarded the contract to Mistress as required. I went back to my work, then we took a long bike ride.

That afternoon we were settled back on our patio again. Mistress was back in her au natural state. Getting her private parts all nice and brown to match the rest of her.

But her I-phone was in hand again.

“Ummm…Slave. M texted me. He must be busy at work, but he wants me to …masturbate….now.”

I smile. Clever M. He does have a way of pulling Mistress’s strings. And she was happy to comply with his command.

“Would you like me to get the power tool, Mistress?”

“Yes….that would be nice Slave.”

I found the device, ran the long extension cord out to Mistress, plugged it in for her and made sure it was in operating condition.

I considered offering to do the “dirty work” for her. But I figured M had demanded masturbation, and who was I to interfere.

“Do you mind if I watch, Mistress?”

“No Slave….I insist that you watch.”

I settled into a nearby chair. Attentive.

Mistress spread her legs a bit, lay her head back on the chaise, and applied the soft churning ball at the apex of her two well tanned and shapely legs.

“Mmmmm…..this machine is amazing.”

Her hips was beginning to squirm from side to side, her wrist working it just so to find the best angle of attack.

“Is this a little strange, Slave? Me masturbating just because he tells me to?”

“Not if it makes you happy, Mistress.”

It certainly seemed to being making her happy.

“Did he tell you to think of anything in particular, Mistress?”

“Yes….he told me to think about him pushing me over his desk and fucking me then and there ….from behind.”

The thought seemed to engage Mistress in just the right way…she came with a sudden moan, writhing against her device, the muscles in her forearm rippling a bit as she held on for dear life.

Her eyes opened, she smiled that well fucked smile I have come to know.

“Did you like the show, Slave.”

“It was very entertaining, Mistress.”

And, of course, Mistress texted back to M that her mission had been accomplished.

“

MIstress's Naked Sunday

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Mistress Works on Eliminating those Tan Lines

“Can you put some sun screen on my bottom, Slave.”

Of course, I could. The sun was bright and warm here at our mountain hideaway, and the low wall around our patio gives Mistress plenty of privacy for naked sunbathing.

The only hassle was finding an extension cord and outlet convenient enough to assure that he Hitachi was readily accessible where she had arranged her little sunbathing nest.

After I smeared some number 8 on her lovely bottom, I poked around as any good Slave would and noticed some hair sprouting up back there since her last waxing.

“Hmmm….you may want me to do some tidying up back here Mistress.”

“Do you mind shaving me back there later Slave…..it’s a little too hard for me to reach.”

Add another project to my weekend punch list.

After my inspection and sunscreen was liberally applied, I picked up the Hitachi.

“Just wanted to make sure that it’s ready for you, Mistress.”

I had plans to watch the big USA – Ghana Soccer game at the local Cantina. I figured Mistress might want to engage in a little self help in the absence of my cock.

But once the highly persuasive tool was churning in my hand, It seemed a waste not to put it to its proper use.

Mistress squirmed and squealed in surprise as the business end of the tool slid between her legs, finding that little vulnerable, but deliciously responsive spot.

But she did not protest. Instead her bottom rose up a bit to accept her therapy and make sure it was precisely on target.

Soon she was grinding against it, writhing a bit from side to side, before her body shuddered in release.

“It seems to be working fine out here, Mistress,” I said, using my best Mr. Wizard voice. Another experiment properly concluded.

“Ummmmm….Yes, Slave. Very well…..”

Mistress settled back in to her chair, picked up her book, seemingly content. And I was off to watch the game and it’s disappointing conclusion. But at least I am done with those annoying Vuvuzelas for the next four years.

At some point ,after Landon Donovan scored the sole goal of the day for our slow, lumbering crew, I got a text from Mistress. A storm had popped up over the ridge line, and sheets of rain were falling. Dramatic.

“Your naked and wet Mistress has gone inside, Slave. Come home soon.”

Soon I rode my bike home in the rain, stripped off the wet cloths, and joined Mistress in bed.

Sidling up against her, my hand wormed its way between her legs. As we kissed, and I used my fingers to tease and torment, I updated her on the motley crew with whom I had shared the afternoon.

“Any Master material, Slave?”

Mistress is always on the lookout for someone to take her firmly in hand. And out little town has its fair share of mountain men and ski bums who might fit her needs. But they weren’t wasting the day like me watching s sport where the score too often ends up 1-0.

“Not this afternoon, Mistress. It seemed that everybody but me was drinking Bud Light.”

Cheap, Yes. But hardly a sign of Alpha Maledom.

“Well, keep your eyes peeled, Slave.”

Oh, you can be sure of that.

Soon Mistress was moaning softly, as she came against my hand. Then rolled languorously over, onto her tummy, letting her tush squirm a bit against the bed with her little aftershocks.

I knew what this signaled. I got up and snapped the photo above. Then climbed back into bed, on top of that lovely bottom.

My cock was already rather hard, and I slid it between her firm and now tanned bottom cheeks.

“M is desperate to fuck you in the ass, isn’t he Mistress?”

Mistress remains a virgin there. She has said many times, she’s not allowing anyone to “go there”. But I can see an exception being made in this case.

“Yes….he talks about it a lot, Slave.”

“And I bet you’d give in to him….wouldn’t you?”

“Well it makes me a little nervous ….but I don’t really think I could say no to him if he insisted.”

“That would really make you his Slave, wouldn’t it….”

“I guess that would be the last straw, Slave…”

Yes, as one of our commenters noted a while back, the surrender of her final “virginity” to M’s desires would make her submission to him complete, wouldn’t it?

Mistress had lifted up her ass, just so, and my cock had wormed its way into her tight cunt, oh so wet and welcoming.

As we talked about how I would never think of denying M “first dibs” on her ever tighter as, I pumped away at her, increasing the tempo until my Mistress was moaning with a rather dramatic orgasm. And then another one.

And after a bit, when Mistress seemed sated, I rolled her over to finish the job, Grateful that Mistress was in a beneficent mood and allowed me to come too.

Now it’s the dawn of our switch day, what we have planned to be a “Naked Sunday.” Mistress will be naked, collared and restrained most of the day, with regular orgasms wrung from her, on the hour, every hour. There will be an exception made for our morning bike ride, and for dinner when two friends will join us. Though I am toying with the idea of making Mistress wear her collar or wrist cuffs for through the dinner hour.

Any thoughts on that, dear readers?

Be sure to tune on tomorrow to see how our adventure unfolds.

Mistress's Stereo Stimulation

With only about 4 hours of sleep, Molly and Mick woke to a spectacular morning out here in our undisclosed location. Still groggy, the sun and vistas drew us out to our patio, a bit overgrown with weeds fostered by the spring run-off.

I brewed us some coffee, and when I brought two cups outside, I found Mistress spread across a chaise, still quite naked, her I-phone in hand.

“I sent M some photos, Slave. To show him what he is missing.”

“And what did you show him, Mistress?”

“The Mountains, of course. And a shot of my cunt too.”

“Cruel …. You are such a tease Mistress. But I’m sure it looked good in the morning sunlight.”

Soon we were back in bed. It had been almost 36 hours for Slave. That’s a long time for me, and I was already pretty horny. And the thought of Mistress teasing her long distance Master so wantonly had a little more fuel to my fire.

In bed, I used my used lips and tongue to bring Mistress to her first orgasm of the morning. And, to tell the truth, I would have been happy to plunge into her then and there for a quick and dirty fuck to cut the edge on my desire.

But Mistress had other things in mind.

“I want to taste my cock, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

She has gotten very good over the last few months at driving me crazy with tongue and fingers . Maybe it was her experience with Sir M, her starter Dom, who liked her on her knees servicing him before he decided how to fuck her. Or it could be all the fantasy talk she’s had with Master M about how he would / will require her to please him. Whatever the inspiration, I am glad to be the beneficiary.

Within a few minutes she had me reduced to an all too pathetic whimpering and craven state, making me beg her repeatedly for the right to fuck her.

When she finally relented, she pushed me onto my back.

“I’m going to ride you for a while Slave. Remember, no coming until I give you permission.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

At this point I seem so well programmed that I don’t think I can come without her permission.

She began a slow and relentless process of grinding her way to the type of orgasm built only with care, patience and a single minded purpose.

And all I could do was provide the very hard cock. And a little chit chat along the way.

“M thinks that I let you come too often, Slave.”

Hmmm. This could be a little unnerving.

“Maybe I should make you wait 2 or 3 more days, Slave. What do you think?”

“He should talk. What with fucking B and jerking off with you, he seems to get off 3 or 4 times a day.”

“Well he is the Master…. But he says it’s very hot and powerful to make you wait between orgasms.”

“I can’t argue with that, Mistress.”

Well you can imagine what this talk was doing to me. And Mistress’s fingers caressing my balls as she rode me, setting her own tempo, was certainly pressing the edge of my will power.

Fortunately, after Mistress came with a nifty explosion of shudders and moans, she seemed to lose focus on her thoughts about orgasm denial, and she allowed me to mount her and, at long last, come with her consent.

The resulting shock and awe left me depleted. I drifted off for a while before the sun shining through our window rejuvenated us enough to begin our day anew.

There was some weedwacking to do, and a long, exhilarating bike ride past pastures and flowing irrigation ditches.

Later, around noon, I had to go down to negotiate the renewal of our little used post office box with the local Post Mistress. She is a short, stocky woman who’s authority in this little village is absolute and uncompromising.

She probably has a riding crop tucked away behind the counter.

She required me to return for more documentation to confirm that, yes, we really are citizens entitled to receive mail. But I elected to take a lunch break before re-engaging with the Post Mistress.

Muffin and beverage in hand, I found Mistress lounging on our patio, back on the chaise. Naked. Phone to her ear.


“Ahhh….here’s my Slave. I’m talking to M, Slave….he’s at work. But he’s giving us … instructions.”

I had a feeling that the muffin I had just bitten into would have to wait.

“He says you are to get on your knees and worship.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I retrieved a pillow, to save my knees from the hard bricks and red ants, and assumed my assigned position in this little tableau.

“He’s down there, M. Ummmm…. Nice.”

It was nice for me too. Mistress’s lovely parts were already quite damp from sunscreen and her natural juices. A lovely taste and aromatic treat for me, bringing back memories of teenaged lust on New Jersey beaches during the reign of LBJ.

As I looked up, tongue still at work as her hips squirmed to the beat of my ministrations, I saw Mistress’s eyes screwed shut, focused on whatever it was M was murmuring into her ear.

And there was the sound of her voice, thick with arousal, responding to him. Egging him on.

“Yes, M. I want you to do that to me….”

“Oh….yes. that would be amazing.”

“Does this turn you on, M?

“Yes….I’ve been imagining that…..”

Soon Mistress was pumping in desperation against my mouth, her free hand reaching down to press my face harder against her….as she was moaning her pleasure into the phone. With a sudden convulsion, she came once, so very deliciously in response to his command.

But I had not yet been relieved of my duties, so I continued on, with my own relentless devotions.

I could tell he was still spinning some type of dark and delicious fantasy for her, but her responses were incoherent now, as she built herself to yet another, even more enthusiastic climax.

“Oh God, M. I just came again….enough Slave.”

Her hand weakly pressed against my forehead, urging me to back off.

“Is that OK with him, Mistress.”

I did not want to be party to insubordination. Not that this little drama would get any Rolling Stone coverage. That’s become more of a family magazine with the passing of Dr. Thompson.

“He wants to know if he can stop, M.”

“Yes…Slave. He says I’ve had enough….and he has to get back to work.”

Relieved of my command, I slid back, and brushed some errant muffin crumbs off Mistress’s sodden and swollen parts.

Later, when it was time for me to collect my reward, I asked Mistress if she enjoyed her stereo sexual stimulation – with me at her clit and M at her ear.

She just smiled.

“What’s not to like, Slave. ….And, by the way, could you go get the Hitachi. I don’t think I’ve had that since Tuesday night.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Road Trip

We finally arrived at an airport in the great SW, about a three hour trip from our undisclosed location.

It was past midnight. A three hour drive to our mountain hideaway was in store.

That was Mountain time.

So, as a practical matter, Molly and Mick were pulling an all-nighter.  Our ETA would be about 5 am back in River City.

So how to keep this lively enough to avoid nodding off in some mountain pass?

“Mistress, I think you should take off your pants.”

“Hmmm…that sounds like a good idea Slave.”

She slid them off, parking them somewhere at her feet in out rented Nissan.

The moon was almost full, lighting the high dessert, moonlight dancing off the sage brush and chamisa.

And as I drove, my fingers were roving Mistress’s clean shaven cunt. Keeping her on the edge.

But she was really too sleepy to cross over that edge.

Yet, toying with Mistress, keeping her squirming, inhaling her aroma and occasional licking her juices from my fingers,   helped me stay awake along those moonlit mountain roads, as we wound our way to our destination.

“Wish there was a car adapter for the Hitachi, Mistress.”

“Ummm….”, she groggily responded, “that would be nice, Slave.”

“We could call it a Car-tachi.”

Mistress thought that was clever. She emailed M our idea.

And we talked about our strange, three way relationship to pass the time.

“So why do you think this is OK, Slave. I certainly wouldn’t stand for it.”

“You mean you wouldn’t like me fondling myself to orgasm while talking with some person I met over the internet? While he was riding his bike?

“When you put it that way, It does sound strange, Slave.”

“Mistress, I am cool with it, because it makes you happy and hot….who can argue with that.”

In case you are wondering, we made it to our little hideaway.  We finally crashed around 3:30 am Mountain time. And we were too spent for sex.

The horror.

But we made up for it Friday, as you shall learn with tomorrow’s update.

Now it’s off to a bizarre lounge lizard performance in an ancient Cantina.

Oops!

Molly and Mick are headed to our undisclosed location in the great southwest for a week of child free vacation.  We invited our Western Correspondent to join us, with or without the mysterious B. But, alas, it seems he is unavailable. Maybe next time.

But Mistress did report an interesting conversation today that I hereby add to the annals of our amusing interactions for our readers' diversion.

It went something like this, as we were driving through ehavy River City traffic to get to the airport for our escape.

"M had a bike accident today, Slave....while we were talking on the phone."

"Huh...how did that happen?"

"Well, one minute we were talking...and then he was suddenly cut off."

"You were talking while he was riding his bike?"

"Yes, Slave ....he calls me sometimes when he's riding his bike to his office."

(I know, This is sounding like an Irish Spring commercial. Manly, yes. But kind of stupid too. )

"So, anyway, when he called back, he said he had an accident. Broke his mirror."

"Crazy, Mistress. we're you talking about something smutty?"

"Hmmm...I think we were."

I could imagine M being a little distracted by their sex chat, then losing control as he tries to entice Mistress to paw herself in some wanton way.

"Hope he's OK, Mistress. You don't want to lose him to some semi-tractor before you get a chance to ride his cock, do you?"



Mistress agreed, but was reassuring.

"He seemed OK when we talked later, Slave."

Maybe our Western Correspondent needs to park his bike before commencing his sex chat in the future.

HNT/ Whos's Pulling the Strings?

Slave got home a bit earlier than his Mistress after work yesterday.

There was some lawn mowing to be done and it was the hottest, skankiest day of the summer. But we are heading out to some dryer mountain air this evening, and this was a task that could not wait until our return.

By the time Mistress got home, I was dripping, but my job was done.

The plan was a bike ride to our pool, where Mistress would do her laps and I would soak away the grime then read the Times. Maybe even a nap was in store.

But when Mistress walked in, all fresh and commanding in a black top and pants from her day at the office, she had other instructions.

“Uhhh…Slave. I have been talking to M and he’s given me some …..instructions to follow.”

“Yes, Mistress?”

I suspected this could be an interesting diversion.

“When he heard you were out mowing, I think he felt a little sorry for you. He told me to command you to come inside, strip for me, and that I was supposed to ride your cock….’ride it hard’ he said.”

“Well, I’m already inside, Mistress….but I thought you wanted to go to the pool?”

I could tell Mistress was a bit conflicted. She did want some exercise….but she felt some strange need to follow his directions.

And I must say I liked being the little puppet in their game.

“Why don’t you strip slave. Then lay down and get it hard for me ….NOW.”

I snapped to….sliding out of my sodden T-shirt, and shorts.

“I am a little gamey, Mistress….are you sure you want me this way.”

“Oh, I think that’s what he had in mind, Slave.”

I lay down, and began to touch my cock. It’s not a privilege I usually have these days. And the thought that Mistress was compelling me, because he was compelling her ….well that was no hindrance.

She looked at me as she was shedding her work attire, and taking off her face paint.

“Get it hard for me, Slave. I don’t want to have to take the time to do it myself.”

“It won’t be a problem, Mistress.”

Naked, she approached our bed.

I had a sense that Mistress was acting out their little fantasy as she unceremoniously straddled me, and let her already moist cunt swallow the product of my efforts.

I guess this was not one of those encounters where foreplay was de rigeur.

“Good job, Slave”, she murmured as she rode me. “Now put your hands on my hips ….”

I knew how to follow orders, using my grip to pull her even closer to me.

She rode me for several minutes before exploding with a moan, then rolling off me to allow me to mount her for a while. All that cock riding can wear on a Mistress.

It had been a long day at work, And I was enjoying this unexpected engagement. So I was in no hurry, and began a slow and relaxed fucking of my seemingly (at least for now) contented Mistress.

I enjoy hearing the little sounds she makes as I take her this way, playing with a nipple , or maybe backing off a bit to allow my fingers to toy with her clit, driving her up and over to another orgasm that way.

But in the midst of all that, as we talked about a fantasy M had sent her earlier in the day (involving him taking her over her desk in her office), Mistress surprised me:

“I want to ride your cock some more Slave. Roll over. ”

Hmmm. M had really gotten under her skin today.

Soon she was back on top of me again, making like Teddy Roosevelt assaulting San Juan Hill in his Roughrider days. .

“I think you’re imagining riding M’s cock now, Mistress.”

“Does that bother you, Slave?”

“No, Mistress…on evening’s like these I am happy to serve as his surrogate….”

When Mistress finally came this time it was one of those sobbing classics that had her face all red as she held back her tears, shaking with her pleasure. I rolled her over carefully, and finished the job that way, thankful for the privilege of providing that handy, dandy surrogate cock in her time of need.

And there was still a little daylight left for that bike ride.

Mistress Gets an Email from our Western Correspondent

Mistress woke with her red cuffs still locked in place yesterday morning, remnants of our evening’s rehearsal for the upcoming, Naked Sunday.

We will be out west at our little mountain hideaway, far from prying eyes. The plan is that on this particular switch day, Mistress will remain naked, restrained and subject to hourly orgasms with the assistance of our power tool (need to remember to pack it!). M will be free to dial in for any sessions he may want to have with her.

And because our patio is very private, Mistress will have the opportunity to obscure some of those tan lines.

When I woke Mistress, it was to allow her to read yesterday’s blog entry, as my tongue and lips caressed her tasty parts, particularly salty from the previous night’s activities.

And then she allowed me to take her, as my reward.

When we concluded, and before hopping in our shower, Mistress opened her email and found an inspiring little fantasy from M, apparently sent in the middle of the mountain night. I suspect we fed his imagination with some of the scandalous photos we had send the night before, and Mistress’s own email to him describing her “plight”.

Here are those messages, in sequence:

From Molly to M:

Subject: current situation

I think that I told you that slave went easy on me yesterday.

So when we got home this evening, we went on a bike ride and I took an extra loop.

He told me to come in through the basement naked. He had a trap laid for me, etc. I am now in leather cuffs, collar and leash and naked for the night.

Thought you might be interested.
Molly.

Here is M’s response:

Hey baby woke up,

just had sex with B, had a fantasy.

Was wishing you were here, and crawled into bed between B and I. Naked and our slave.

We would each take a nipple in our mouths and our fingers, would both spread you wide open and get you nice and wet.

Then I would pull you on top of me, and bury my cock in your pussy as B pushed her finger deep into your ass and spanked your bottom.  

B would order you to cum on my beautiful cock.  She would grab your hair and demand that you cum right now, while she was driving that finger hard up your ass.  B does love to drive her finger hard up some one's ass and make them cum hard!

After you came she would pull you off my cock by the hair, and push your face down on my cock, demanding that you clean it good.  

"Suck it clean, Slave" she would order.

B would get up on all fours and put you under her, sucking her clit,  69 style, and licking my shaft and balls  as I fucked her from behind.  She would press the hitachi against your clit as you serviced us.

She would say "M is going to pull his cock out of me and cum in your mouth Molly and you are going to swallow every drop and suck his cock clean!"  as I exploded in your mouth.

Then we would all fall asleep with you between us ...  The two of us would be wrapped around you with  my cock pressed right up between the cheeks of you ass. and your face buried between B's beautiful breasts, her hand behind your head pulling your face to her breasts.

I would wake up in the middle of the night with a huge erection, and push my hard cock in u from behind as B pulled your pretty little mouth onto one of her big beautiful nipples to suck.  B would place your finger on her clit and demand that you satisfy her while her husband fucked you .

Then B would demand that you get up on all fours and suck her clit... she would want to hear the sounds you will make as I fuck you in the ass.

What a hot fantasy that was baby.

sweet dreams buttercup.

your friend M

Mistress seemed a little flustered by this fantasy. The thought of being the focus of all that attention must have had a profound appeal. And sadly, it was time for her Slave to get off to work. No time for round two.

But to torment me a bit, she emailed me a copy to contemplate as I tried to focus on my mundane work projects through the day.

“Maybe you can work this into tomorrow’s blog, Slave.”

“It’s always nice to have some fresh material, Mistress.”

So it should come as no shock the very first thing that happened at the end of the day, when we found ourselves back in our temporarily empty nest, involved a quick stripping away of our work costumes and my devoted worship of Mistress’s needy little cunt.

---

 

Dress Rehearsal

We’ve been talking so much about our upcoming “Naked Sunday”, planned for our upcoming vacation at our Western undisclosed location, that it seemed right to do a dress rehearsal, right here in River City.

After all, the kids are away. Let the kinksters play.

So when Mistress decided to take an extra lap on her bike lat night, and I decided to pass (nothing like a long hill climb when the temperature / humidity are both in the 90’s), I told her that when she came upstairs, I wanted her naked.

I was exercising my deferred switch privileges.

And as she rode for another 20 minutes or so, I laid my trap for her, collecting various implements, and waited for her in our living room.

And like the dutiful slut she longs to be for the right Master, she soon was marching up the stairs naked, having shed those sweaty bike shorts and top as I had required.

I allowed her a brief trip to the Loo. And a cold glass of water.

Then I locked on the red leather cuffs, along with a black collar, linking her hands in front.


“Do we really need the lock for the collar, Slave?”

“doesn’t it seem more permanent that way, Mistress?”

“I suppose it does.”

I positioned her at the end of a sofa with a rather high back, spread her legs, and tied them off to the legs with torn towel strips. Soft but secure.

“What are you doing to me, Slave?”

“A little pain. And some rewarding pleasure, Mistress.”

And, of course, a photo for our readers.

I switched between the riding crop and our power tool, until Mistress was tender, squirmy and whining. But no orgasm. Not just yet.

I released her and pulled her across my lap on that couch. Her hands still bound. The power tool at the ready.

And then I began to spank her.

“I know I can’t do this as well as M would, Mistress. He’d be much crueler. Why don’t you imagine how he would spank you in his little mountain cabin until he wrung the last bit of resistance from you.”

“That would be ….interesting, Slave.”

Soon her little bottom was very red, and she was crying out her discomfort. But I was feeling merciful. And the cock buried beneath her was growing needy. So I picked up the power tool, switched it on, and thrust it between those glowing ass cheeks.

The shift in tactics took Mistress by surprise.

And soon she was humping away on my lap, before descending into one of those orgasms that had her moaning and convulsing with such force that I had to hug her close to me for fear that she might land on the floor.

But soon that’s where she was.

Squatting between my knees, Sucking on my cock.

Being a master for the evening does have its rewards.

She’s had a good deal of practice at cock sucking lately. First with her initial “Sir M”, sadly left behind by her infatuation with our Western Correspondent. And she seems to enjoy practicing on me after M fills her head with his own fantasies of her taking his hard cock in her soft mouth. And who am I to object.

One of our readers recently asked “What happened to her starter Dom?”

I suppose only Mistress knows the full story on that. In my opinion it was a lack of commitment to fully enslaving Mistress. He let her slip out of his clutches. Silly.

But she does have some good stories to recall from their several encounters. And as she sucked my cock, I asked her to recount how she did it for him.

“On my knees, Slave. He liked it that way.”

That seemed to get both of our motors running at a higher RPM, and Mistress was soon on her back, bound hands over her head, as I rammed myself into her.

“I think you like taking in charge, Slave,” Mistress opined as I fucked her with considerable force.

“I do….but I’m not sure you would trust me to be your full time Master, Mistress.”

“No….I really can’t trust you, can I ….plus I like having a Slave. So get used to it.”

Of course, I am used to it. I love it.

But these occasional switches have their charm.

When we had finished our business on the living room floor, I let Mistress know that she would remain naked, bound and collared for the rest of the evening. There was even a little rope leash for me to move her about the house with.

As I prepared dinner, I instructed Mistress to compose an email to M describing her “plight”. (cruel teasing, I know, but then it wouldn’t be right to ‘borrow’ his slave for the evening without fill him in on the action). She typed away on her laptop at our kitchen counter, her bound wrists seeming to allow enough range of motion to get the job done. And later I sent M some photos of her on that leash, to help fuel his imagination..

After dinner (grilled salmon and some stir fried green beans) We settled onto our couch to watch the conclusion of Treme on HBO.

Mistress was afforded a blanket, since it was getting a little chilly in the AC. But she was still bound at the wrists, and on her leash. And every ten minutes or so, during those raucous musical interludes, I switched on the Hitachi to “force” yet another orgasm from her.

By evenings end she must have hit 10, I would guess.

Poor Slave.

When the show concluded with a moving second line, Mistress conceded that she was sleepy. It had been a hard night for her, but she had endured.

Though she offered to clean the kitchen first.

Of course, I insisted on taking on those duties and sent Mistress up to bed.

“You’re purely a decorative Slave, Mistress. Let the field Slave handle the mess.”

You’ll be happy to know that Mistress slept in those red cuffs though. I think they are growing on her.

Yellow Carded at the Swim Club

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The Instant Orgasm

On the second day of Molly and Mick’s empty nest extravaganza, we rested. Well, at least we slept in.

Raining.

Hotel room.

No where to be until noon.

So there was some reading (me a compelling book about the MLK Assassination by Hampton Sides).

Blog writing.

Blog reading.

Sex.

Lattes.

More reading.

At around 11 am, Mistress said it was time for a shower.

But I had one more thing I “needed” to do.

Her Hitachi was still sitting on a chair, where she had left it the afternoon before, the detritus of her slutty little phone liaison with her Master, our Western Correspondent.

“Mistress, I want you over here for a minute.”

I suspect she knew from the tone of my voice that I had mischief in mind.

At first, she demurred. She needed to wash her hair, to get it dried in time, and I joined her in the shower, exploiting the chance to play with her dripping body.

But when we were both all nice and clean, she was curious about what I had in mind.

“OK, Slave. What did you want me to do?”

“Stand there against the wall Mistress. Hands over your head, pressed against the wall.”

I positioned her as a Cop would, ready for frisking. She was leaning against the wall, arms overhead, naked, fresh from the shower, her nicely cleaned, damp hair wrapped in a towel.

And the Hitachi was lying next to her. Plugged in and ready.

I leaned against her, hands roaming her body.

“Remember that scenario when M and B (M’s very authoritative wife) had you wait for them naked in that hotel room, Mistress?”

“Ummm. Yes, Slave.”

“Well I want you to think about this. ….B has her Hitachi and you in this position. She commands M to sit still and watch. He’s in the corner, but powerless to help you. You may be his Slave. But he’s her slave, right?”

“Yes…. I understand.”

My hand is reaching around, running a finger up and down her slit. Is it damp from the shower, or are Mistress’s juices already beginning to flow?

I use my foot to spread her legs a bit. My cock is already getting thick, and its pressed between her smooth ass cheeks.

Distracting.

So I stepped back a bit, reached for the power tool and flicked it on, pressing it against the inside of her thigh. Mistress startled a bit, but I held her in place with my left hand, my mouth close to her ear.

“She has you in this position. She uses the Hitachi on you, Mistress….relentlessly…she says ‘ M thinks you’re his little slut ….but by the time I get done with you you’re going to be all mine….you won’t want that cock of his….”

“and you’ll protest….wimpering….you’ll look over at M as if he can save you….but he’ll just watch, he won’t lift a finger, Mistress, as she makes you hers.”

Mistress moaned as I pressed the tool up between her legs. And, out of no where, this smutty little exposition I had planted in her brain, combined with that relentless machine that M has trained her to use, had her coming almost instantaneously, bucking and writhing against it, knees buckling underneath her.

It took all of 20 seconds.

“Whoa, Mistress, what was that?”

We were both laughing. Instant orgasm.

But I was not done with her. All that set up work would just go to waste. So I bucked her up, got her back in position. Spun the story a bit longer, only to have her come again for me in another 30 seconds or so…..

Amazing.

Mistress’s instant orgasms had me going again, so I led her to the bed and had my own fun with her very damp and needy cunt.

So much for showering.

Later that day, after an afternoon picnic with some political types, we were driving back to River City. It’s about a 2 hour trip.

M had let us know he was golfing out west in the morning. I pitied the poor prairie dogs dodging his powerful drives. But about 90 minutes into the drive, Mistress got a text indicating that he was off the course. She elected to call him to chat a bit.

Their talk was not particularly smutty, though I did ask for the phone to tell him about Mistress’s morning experience (and the fact that I had taken a photo he might want to request from her). But I did enjoy watching Mistress’s body language when they chatted, all squirmy, her hand somehow finding its way between her thighs….not exactly playing with herself, but certainly a subliminal demonstration that playing with herself is exactly what she would like to do, if she wasn’t in a car with her devoted husband / slave.

At some point she may be required to shed that false modesty, don’t you think?

In any event I had my camera available and snapped the photo above to show M and the rest of you just what I am talking about. She is a horny little slit for him, don’t you think?

As we approached home, Mistress learned that M would soon be home himself, and things added up quickly.

“Slave, you don’t mind if M and I have a date when we get home, do you?”

Of course I didn’t. As if it was my place to object.

As we arrived home I was told to bring her bag upstairs. Inside was the Hitachi.

Mistress stripped away her traveling cloths. She asked me to plug it in for her. All was ready. I was told I was welcome to stay, but I figured they were entitled to a little privacy.

I settled into my own comfort zone out on the deck, Times in hand, cold beer at my side, figuring this could take a while.

But only about 10 minutes later, Mistress poked her head out the door. She was naked, but for a swim suit top.

“He got interrupted, Slave. So…well …. Let’s go for that bike ride.”

I could tell Mistress was a little … frustrated. I offered to help solve the “problem” then and there, but we agreed to take care of that after a bike ride and swim.

It was a hot day and the sun had come out. We lounged about our pool for an hour or so, and headed home around 5 pm. And the first order of business back in our empty nest was taking care of Mistress’s unfinished business.

The Hitachi was where she had left it on the bed. We both quickly stripped away our damp bathing costumes.

Lying on the bed next to her, I picked up the tool again and asked her to explain what had gone so terribly wrong.

“Exactly where did you leave things off, Mistress?”

“Well I was lying here, Slave. On your side of the bed (next to the outlet)”.

“And did he have you using the tool yet, Mistress?”

I had flipped it on and was resting it just south of her favorite spot. She squirmed a bit, hoping to make better contact. But I held back. No instant orgasm until the story was out of her.

‘Yes, Slave….it was on. He had me pressing it against my clit.”

“And was his cock out, Mistress? Had he applied that expensive lube of his?”

M reputedly uses primo lube. $50 a container. He’s a man who clearly has his priorities straight.

“Yes, Slave…”

That turns you on, doesn’t it Mistress?”

It’s a powerful thing for her to know that this dominant, alpha dog is out in the Rockies, responding to her voice in just the way she responds to his. And I was now applying the tool in ways that had Mistress getting a little distracted. If properly used this device is better than sodium pentothal to get the truth out of a squirming vixen.

“Yes, Slave….it’s very hot….”

“But then you were interrupted?”

“His kids came home….he had to stop….but he told me I could finish without him….”

“and did you Mistress?”

“No….I figured that could wait for you, my Slave….”

She was buttering me up. Shameless.

“You mean you stopped this…..I pressed the churning head of the tool against her clit. A direct hit. She was moaning pressing her pelvis up against it.

“Yes….don’t you believe me?”

“That sounds very … implausible, Mistress….”

I pressed my advantage.

“You sound….accusatory…Slave.”

“No Mistress. It’s just that I know how much you like this….it makes you crazy doesn’t it?”

At that point the interrogation was effectively over, because Mistress was coming hard against the tool. In fact, she was coming so hard and with such energy that her gyrations made the tool break contact with her “good parts” a bit too soon, to her great frustration.

Climaxus Interruptus.

“Argh…..Ohhhh…. Put it back, Slave,” she moaned at me.

We regrouped. And soon we got it done right, to Mistress’s relief. Sad to think that both her Master and her Slave had frustrated her on one hot afternoon. Hopefully I redeemed us both.

And for the record, I do believe her when she says she did not finish the job without him. The machine would have gotten the truth from her if she had been lying to me.

One Lucky Mother******

It was just after 5pm. Mistress and I were walking a few blocks to a reception in our flat and not as dull as it used to be state capitol. The streets were crowded. Many folks were headed home, ready for the weekend to begin. And others were flocking to a raucous Gay pride festival winding up just north of downtown.

Mistress was wearing an electric blue one shouldered dress that fell just above the knee. It showed off her tempting body and delightful curves in a very appealing way.

As we passed along the sidewalk in front of the state capitol building, a rather bland marble edifice that looks like they still need to stick a dome on it, a homeless “gentleman” squatting on a park bench that he seems to have occupied for a dozen years, called out to me with a leer in his voice:

“Man, you are one lucky motherfucker.”

I waved and agreed. “You got that right, pal.”

And  of course, I am. A lovely, oh so sexy Mistress to squire about town. Our two surly teens off on another continent. And three weeks of “empty nesting” ahead of   us.

As we walked I asked Mistress about how her “date” with M had gone that afternoon, while I was stuck in a conference and she was idling away back in our hotel room.

I had heard them plan their get together  on the drive up that morning.

As she had chatted with him and  I listened to the USA  struggle for a nil – nil result against mighty Slovenia, I picked up some of the details. She was required to be naked in preparation for his call, the porn channel running, the Hitachi at the ready.

“I understand, M. No coming until you call. Only with your permission.”

It’s nice that someone can impose a little discipline on this horny little Mistress of mine.

As I sat at my conference, trying to concentrate with mixed results,  her text messages kept me up to date. The absence of a plug near the bed might require some adjustments…., and after they talked, she let me know she was now in need of my cock.  Frustrating.

When I got back to our hotel room to pick her up for that reception,  and dinner afterwards with some friends, there was no time to fuck, but I did see the Hitachi draped across a chair, parked in front of the TV.  It was like a crime scene.

And so, as we walked we talked about her little afternoon delight.

“So how many orgasms did he let you have, Mistress?”

“Four Slave….is that bad.”

“He is very indulgent of you, Mistress.”

“I suppose he is….but then it seems to get him off to hear me come at his command, Slave.”

No doubt it does.

“And did he play with himself throughout this little conversation?”

“Yes….he did.”

“Did you like that….the sounds he makes?”

“Yes, Slave. You men make very …interesting … sounds when you come like that…remember ….you used to do that for me when we had those video chat sessions….it’s very hot.”

And it was, being told by my Mistress to play with myself…to ask permission when I was ready to come…and be reminded that she needed to hear me vocalize my pleasure for her.  But I digress.

“What was he talking about as he made you come Mistress?”

“well he asked me to describe the porn on the screen …. And he has this fantasy going where I come with him as his slave to that Jamaican resort…that’ s always something that turns us both on, Slave.”

“You would like to be on his leash, wouldn’t you, Mistress. And to be taken whenever he wants you….in public.”

“Oh yes, Slave….”

At our reception, Mistress and her Master traded occasional text messages and photos of the evening’s activities. It’s fun to see them in touch, and she keeps me in on their banter, which makes her Slave feel included  as a part of this strange and kinky three-way.

We had dinner with some old friends. One of them brought up the name of a gentleman from Molly’s past, D, with whom she had a rather torrid affair in a prior life, before she met me.

I gave Mistress a sly raised eyebrow when that name came up. She once told me that D had the largest cock she had ever experienced, almost too large for her greedy little cunt. Almost. But not too large for her to go back for more.

I keep wondering if she will run into him here someday on her ventures to the state capitol, and if the memories of that large cock will have any subversive impact when she does see him again.

Finally, our evening of socializing was done. It had been since morning that I had last been allowed to fuck mistress. And though we were both tired and a little tipsy, I was not going to pass on the opportunity.

We snuggled close in bed, both naked. No tools or toys. Just two bodies anxious to mesh as one.

My fingers snaked between her legs and teased open her lips finding her soft, warm and liquid for me. She probably did miss that cock after all those Hitachi driven orgasms.

And after my fingers produced one orgasm, she was anxious to return the favor.

“Can I suck your cock, Slave?”

“Of course,, Mistress….you don’t need permission. It’s yours.”