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.
that's a fantasy that would get anyone flustered
ReplyDeletegoodness.
sfp