Give an Assist to the Extension Cord

Switch day snuck up on us this week.

Out here in the high desert, time moves at a different pace. The dramatic changes in the endless sky take your attention away from watches and calanders.

I usually am the one who sticks to eastern time, giving me a chance to work the blog early and check out the dramatic sunrise.

It wasn’t until Mistress called for me, the teens still sleeping, that I remembered that It was my weekly chance to turn the table on her.

And having received no specific instructions from M, I was on my own to improvise.

Fortunately, while I had forgotten Mistress’s harness, I had remembered a few other things to make her morning “special”.

After we drank some coffee and perused the papers by internet, and after Mistress read through my own “home work”, I reminded her that it was time to submit.

“But no spanking today, Mistress….don’t want your cries of anguish to wake the kids….”

“I’ll count myself lucky” she said, rolling onto her tummy, and stretching with that little wriggle of her ass that she must know drives me crazy.

She still had on the green top from the night before, the undies having been tossed somewhere now unknown during our activities of the night before.

I reached into my little goodie bag, retrieved the red cuffs and locked them to her wrists. After linking them with a handy carabiner, I tied them with some rope to an eye hook screwed into the bed for just such a naughty purpose.

Then I began the long slow tease, which she might have thought worse than a good spanking.

Lying next to her I fondled her ass, until she was responding with that wriggle again, but done to my tune.

As I leaned over her I reached for a handy nipple.

“Do you notice how some of our blogger compadras are so into nipple twisting, and breast mauling, Mistress?”, I said as I gave one a tight twisting embrace.

“Ouch…. Yes….maybe they have bigger nipples than mine, Slave….M always talks about B’s big nipples….

I kept twisting, and squeezing. Mistress was moaning and squirming a bit.

“Maybe we should have some on-line show and tell to compare? “

“That would be amusing, wouldn’t it Slave.”

After some more attention to her nipples, I gave her a little break, as I prepared the Hitachi. She had to squirm and contemplate her “fate” a bit, as I hunted for an extension cord.

(Yes, I know. I did not follow the boy scout motto. My lack of preparedness was shameful and deserves it’s own punishment).

But I was not going to let her off with a quick and dirty orgasm with the assistance of technology.

Instead I rolled her over.

Sliding on top, I teased her runny little cunt with the tip of my sufficiently hard cock.

“Maybe I’ll just skip your turn and go right to the good part, Mistress. At least for me.”

Mistress isn’t used to getting fucked without at least one warm up orgasm. But what are “switch days” for but to deviate from the usual agenda?

I slid into her.

“Hmmm….nice Slave….but what about the Hitachi. You went to all that effort to get the cord….”

She was negotiating. But she really didn’t have much bargaining power at the moment.

“If you’re a good little Slave, you might get your reward….”

I did it slow and steady, building us both up to the edge. But the Slave in me just couldn’t carry out my initial plan.

Instead, I slid out of her just as slowly as I had entered, then straddling her, I offered her my cock,, richly marinated in her juices.

“Take a taste of what I am addicted to, Mistress.”

Naturally, she complied, taking me into her mouth and licking it clean.

“Very tasty, Slave”, she muttered around a full mouth.

How could I not reward her for such good behavior?

I rolled her over onto her bottom, and switched on the tool laid next to the bed, attached to a long orange extension cord.

Unsightly yes, but very, very effective. .

Watching her hump against the churning white bulb is always amusing, and it seems to take her longer to build herself to her reward this way than the full frontal approach.

And I was in no hurray.

Soon Mistress’s powerful thighs were clenching for dear life. Her ass was rising that falling onto the device. Her arms were straining against her restraints. She was close…very close.

“I want you to ask permission, Mistress….”

And she was ready to ask.

“May I come, Slave?”

“That doesn’t sound desperate enough….”

She moaned, rising up on her forearms, her torso grinding hard against the bed and the devious tool buried between her thighs. Give her credit: she was trying to hold off the inevitable, but time was not on her side.

“Oh God, I need to come, Slave.”

Now I am hearing it: her desperation was so very sweet.

“I want you to think how you would beg M to let you come. Imagine him doing this, what would his little slut tell him?”

“Please, please may I come Master.”

It was spoken with such deep, earthy need that I could not say “no”.

“Yes, Slave, come for me now.”

And she did, arching her back, up on her elbows, thighs clinging to the tool for dear life, sobbing out into a pillow, still mindful that there were teens about outside our room.

When the shaking stopped, I gently rolled her over, ready to take my pleasure from her, but giving her plenty of time to come back to earth.

“That was…very intense…Slave.”

I licked some of the tears off her blotchy face.

“Yes, Mistress. I could tell. Always happy when I can get you there….”

As I slid into her again, we proceeded at a gentler pace.

But soon it was my turn to ask permission.

Even on Switch Day, I am too well trained to do it any other way.