The Tables Turn Fast

Wow. Slave slept in a bit longer than normal today…. So let’s catch up fast.

Sunday, of course, is our switch day. And Mistress played her normal, coy, “you don’t plan to tie me up and torture me with too many orgasms routine” when it was time to put down the morning paper and submit to my plans.

“But Slave, it’s so cold and I feel so warm and cozy under these blankets….”

Yeah. We’ve heard this line before, so it was a bit of  a struggle to cuff her wrists with those comfy leather binders, lock them together, then fix them overhead to the eye-screw in our bed. 

Then her ankles were bound with a leather gizmo made for just that purpose.  Soon she was on her belly, and I took a few moments to shoot this picture for you to admire. 

Tight ass, huh?

In any event, since the surly teen was already stalking the hallways, coughing up a storm with the remnant of her unending flu, we had to be somewhat low key.  Rest assured Mistress got a nice firm, butt reddening spanking before I deployed the power tool from behind, between those lovely thighs.

She built herself up to what was going to be a nice rockin’ cum, then asked permission like a nice little subbie, but I decided to throw a curve ball….

Suddenly the power tool was off….

“Hey…. Slave….. why’d you do that…. I was almost there…..”

“Hmmm …. Maybe there was a power failure?”

“Then why is the music still on…. Asshole….”

“Oops…..”

“Why don’t you roll over Mistress….”

She struggled, but made it over onto back, her face was a bit red from the exertion, all that muscle flexing against the bed, trying the make a little more room for the churning device.

I actually felt bad for the little desperate thing, so I thumbed the Hitachi back on, and began to gently rub it where she likes, then pressed it home with a bit more force as her hips began rising up to meet it.

Soon she was coming with a nice heaving moan of contentment, her legs, still bound at the ankles, heaving and squirming as if to embrace the little but very effective tool.

Her head was back, her voice desperate, “why don’t you fuck me now, Slave….”

 Was happy to oblige, and required no further encouragement (or assistance), so once her ankles were released, and I slid off the sexy black thing, rather sticky and fragrant I might add, I was happy to exercise my privilege….

Of course, I made sure that Mistress had at least one more memorable orgasm before I asked for my own permission, which she seemed happy to grant.

Now, flash forward a few hours. We lolled in bed a bit longer, then went for a long bike ride, up and down the hills of our quaint little village.  The air was a bit chilly, but at least the rain had stopped. 

I had a few minutes to shower, then take the surly teen to an SAT prep session, and visit my aging and cranky Mom.

There was just time for a quick lunch.

In the kitchen, I noticed Mistress preparing her own breakfast / lunch.

A nice big bowl of my leftover apple crisp, crowned with a  big scoop of mocha chip ice cream.

This is when a prudent man, particularly of the slavish sort, keeps his mouth shut.

But maybe I was a bit too heady after our morning switch-ercise.

“Hmmm…. That looks like a healthy breakfast, Mistress.”

It was as if I insulted her first born.

She gave me a very stern look. 

“SLAVE… (she pronounced that word in it’s most demeaning and authoritative way)… I think you need to be in your cage as you go about your afternoon duties…. Go put it on right now….”

Argh…. But I was not going to argue.

‘Yes, Mistress…. I went to retrieve it,  struggled a bit to mush everything into its proper position, and fitted in the little lock for her to snap shut.

But when I came back down to the office, surly teen 2 was there… so there could be no official locking ceremony.  Before taking her to her class, I had to slide into a bathroom and snap the lock shut myself.

Mistress gave me a little hug goodbye, a discrete hand feeling my crotch for that telltale lump of hardened steel (no, don’t let your mind wander on that one). Confirming that all was in place, she whispered into my ear.

“Slave…. I hope this teaches you a lesson…. I want you to take a picture for me once you drop the teen off….”

So there I was, yesterday afternoon, after visiting my mother,  at my quiet office to catch up on some work, my jeans at my ankles, a snapping picture for Mistress of that caged cock.

I texted it off to her….

“Happy?”, was my short message.

A few moments later my phone beeped.  

“Very Happy , Slave…..”