Back to "Civilization"

 There were no middle of the night visits by Mistress to her slave's solo tent that Sunday night.  I was left to see their shadows in sexy motion inside the tent, until their electric lamp was extinguished.  Those shadows and the muffled sounds of passion that emerged from across our camp site led me to conclude that Scott effectively dealt with any pent up passions he might have  accrued as Mistress squirmed on his lap through her "punishment".  And knowing Mistress (and the sounds she makes in the throes) I was sure she enjoyed at least a few more cums as she relieved Scott of any pent up demand. 

The next morning, as I prepared our last coffees and breakfast on the trail, Mistress emerged sheepishly from her tent, undies restored and hands no longer bound. 

She gave me an affectionate kiss and gentle hug, but shared little more than "Hot night, Slave.....I'll share more details later...."

Scott was out of their tent shortly after, gratefully taking the coffee I handed him. "Your Mistress is a handful, Mick. You're a lucky man."

"Agreed". 

Soon we were all on task breaking camp -- rolling up sleeping bags and tents, and filling up our packs.  It was only 8:30 am or so, but the sun was already breaking over the rim. Mistress had gotten back into her hiking pants and boots. It was just about time to hit the trail. We were heading back up to the rim and our "real life". Scott was venturing solo further into the Canyon for a few more days. Time to say our farewells. 

Back packs on, Mistress and Scott exchanged a lingering hug and passionate kiss or two.  Tongue seemed to be engaged on both of their parts as their bodies melded together for a final time, his hands gripping her ass possessively. But if there was a morning "quickie" inside their tent before we broke camp, Slave may have slept through it. 

Obviously, I was anxious to hear Mistress's play-by-play once Scott took his own separate path down the trail. Before we parted, Scott gave me another of those firm handshakes, as his left hand gripped  my shoulder.

"Thanks for your hospitality, Mick", he said with another of those smirks.  I guessed he was still genuinely confused about how a husband could give free rein to his hot wife, and actually seem to enjoy it.  Understandable. 

"It was a fine time for all", is all I could muster.  

Then we parted, with Mistress and slave re-covering the 4.5 miles back up the Bright Angel Trail to the rim. Somehow we had worked our way back into shape over the last two days, so our uphill journey, despite the heavy packs, seemed less exhausting than our Saturday morning descent had been. 

During breaks for trail mix and water, and while walking side by side on the trail, we did a mutual debrief on our eventful weekend. 

"So what happened in that tent last night, Mistress?"

"Well you'll be happy to learn he kept my hands tied most of the night....I think he got off on being in charge.  He even figured away to stake me down to one of those tent poles for a while, 'torturing' me with his tongue and fingers. He was driving me crazy, making me beg to cum again."

"Awww, poor Mistress."

"Then there was some cock riding with me on top for a change. Got to say I'm a little tender down there."

"How long did this go on?"

"Hard to tell. We probably dozed off for a while after the first round.  And we talked some before another round."

"What did you talk about?"

"Hmmm.... he was interested in some things he read in the blog. Like your cock cage."

"Oh really? What about it?"

"He focused on references to 'the Boss', wanted to know who he was, and the bit about him taking the key to your cage the last time we saw him."

I remembered. Ouch. 

"What did you tell him?"

"That he's a guy we met via the blog years ago. That I used to have phone sex with him back in the day. and that we reconnected recently. I think Scott liked the concept of controlling your key and deciding when you and I can have sex."

"Yikes. He's into control?"

"Seems to get him going, Slave. In fact, he gave me a final order this morning, before we got up."

"Really....explain please."

"He says no regular sex until he gets out of the Canyon on Friday. Says it's only fair since he won't be having any.  He'll text me when he's out and 'free us' from his 'edict' if he deems it apropriate."

I was  stunned by this revelation. It had been almost three days now without any sexual relief.  Was Mistress serious?"

"Are we really going to follow this 'edict' Mistress? Got to admit all this has made me over the top horny for you.  I'm already thinking about where we'll stay tonight, and getting you into bed. I mean, are we ever going to see this dude again?"

"Awww . . . poor Slave. But you're the one who started us down this whole cuckold road.  Maybe it's time to take your medicine too, like I did last night.  And I DO think we'll see him again.  He was talking about visiting us in June. And maybe me coming to Austin over the summer."

Yikes.  I think Mistress was smitten. And with Scott relishing a role of domination and control this could have legs.

By the time we reached the rim, and off loaded out packs into the back of our Subaru, our feet and backs were feeling the effects of all those miles on the trail. We'd covered about 24 miles and a total of 9000 vertical feet.  Pretty good for oldsters. But at top of my mind was when I might be relieved of that building sexual tension. All that talk on the trail about cock cages, denial and Scott's budding relationship with Mistress had me semi-erect for what seemed like ages by now. 

By now it was past noon, we were headed east on the interstate towards to NM/AZ state line. I was making hotel reservations on my phone with Mistress behind the wheel. 

"So are we really abstaining tonite Mistress? I don't know if I can handle that."

"He just said no 'regular' sex, Slave.  I took that to mean no intercourse in the technical sense."

"So?"

"So I think we can solve your problem in other ways tonight."

Ahhh. Good to know I remained a pampered Slave after all.

Final Night In the Canyon

 Dinner completed, we were all  still a bit fatigued after our 14 mile trek down  and back from the depths of the Canyon. As I began stowing away our dinner gear  for the night, I speculated about Scott's plans for Mistress.  Would  he really explore Mistress's  bondage kink in their final night together? 

It didn't take long to find out.  As I washed our dinner plates and cups, Scott was digging into his back pack. He came back to the picnic table brandishing a length of belt like fabric webbing about 5 feet long.  Apparently he subscribed to that old Boy Scout motto: "Be Prepared". 

"This should do," he commented, looking at Mistress, who  remained seated at the table, still nursing her tea.  Her expression reflected equal parts uncertainty and curiosity with just a smidgeon of  anxiety.

"Hands," Scott directed.  

"Really? Here?" she asked looking around the camp site.  While the grounds were not as crowded as they had been Saturday night, there were still some other campers in the distance, maybe 50 yards or so away. 

"Oh, don't worry.  It's gotten dark and I won't be parading you around for all to see. We can certainly keep things private. At least for tonite."

A promise of a reunion?

Mistress glanced at me, still uncertain.  After all she could simply say "No".  Would she?

"Are we really doing this in front of the Slave?"

"Seems it's nothing he hasn't seen before, Mistress," that added with a slight touch of snark. "The only thing different from your 'switch days' is that I'll be the one in charge tonight. I'm sure Mick doesn't mind. Do you Mick?"

At this point, my own  level of arousal was on the rise at the thought of witnessing Scott take charge of my Mistress. 

"No. . . Sir. Who am I to object?"

"Exactly," he responded with a bit of a smirk.  Mistress shot a dirty look at me, as if she expected me to be the Night in Shining Armor, coming to her defense.  But I knew her well enough to judge her an enthusiastic participant in whatever mischief was to come.  She was already squirming with anticipation as she made a show of finishing her tea.

"Hands," Scott repeated again a bit more forcefully, holding up the belt.

Mistress slowly stood in front of him, finally extending her wrists in front of her. Apparently her answer would not be "No."

Scott just shook his head, signaling with a twrling finger that Mistress should turn her back to him.  He wasn't fooling around.

She hesitated, then complied. Slowly spinning around, glancing at me. By now it was almost dark, so it was hard to see her blush of arousal. But I could almost hear her racing heart beat. 

Scott gathered her hands behind her, crossed her wrists, then wound the fabric strap round them, first vertically, then horizontally, tying it off with a knot that tightened all of the strands in a way that produced a slight gasp and shudder from Mistress.  

"Too tight?"

Mistress just shook her head, indicating a "no."

She was twisting her wrists, testing her bonds. They held tight.

"Haven't done this in a while", Scott remarked to me.  "What do you think, Mick, does it look like that will hold?"

"Seems a good job," was all I could muster, still in a bit of erotic shock seeing my wife so efficiently brought under such swift control by another man.

"Now it's your turn to help, slave. I'd like you to get down there, take off her hiking boots, and pull down her jeans.  Around the ankles will do for now."

Mistress just looked at both of us with that "really?" look again. But her unsuccessful struggles with her bindings left her knowing her opportunity to resist had passed.

I knelt at her feet, a familiar place for me, and began unlacing her boots.  She co-operated to the extent of sitting back down in the picnic table bench, lifting each foot as I worked off those boots.  Her thick hiking sox remained to keep her toes toasty as the temperature dropped.

"I can't believe you're doing this to me, Slave?"

"Just following orders, Mistress", giving us both a quiet laugh.

Next I unbuttoned her jeans, and she lifted her butt slightly, aiding my effort to pull them down over her firm thighs and long legs to her ankles. Apparently she had decided either that "resistance was futile" or she really did not want to resist.  I was guessing the latter. 

So there she was, hands bound behind her, jeans at her ankles further restricting her movement, her lacy forest green panties for all to see.  A fleece jacket and T shirt covered her breasts and tummy. 

"Is she turned on, Mick?"

To verify, I leaned in, nuzzling into the soft fabric of those green panties. It was hard not to miss the intoxicating aroma of Mistress in full bloom, or to feel the damp fabric with the tip of my tongue.

"Verified, Sir."

Mistress just squirmed on that bench, moaning softly from my tongue's gentle ministrations, confirming my diagnosis.

Scott leaned over, helped Mistress to her jeans hobbled feet, then sat in her place.  

"Over my lap, Mistress."

Mistress just shook her head, sensing where this was going. But Scott's strong arms soon had her by the arm, gently but firmly pulling her down with her firm bottom settled over his lap, her head dangling down, face obscured by her long dark hair. He fondled that bottom gently.

"Like the undies. Soft and sexy.  But for what I have in mind, they're in the way. Mick, how about pulling them down to her knees?"

I looked at Mistress, who shook her head, giving me that dagger tossing glare.  But she failed to order me to disregard Scott's command.  Despite her sudden vulnerability, Mistress was going with the flow, seemingly prepared to "face the music". 

I squatted down, gently took those green panties in two hands and slipped them down over her hips and  around her knees. 

"Thanks Mick. Why don't you stand over by there, indicating the end of the picnic table, where I might block the view of any of our fellow campers who might  wander by or campsite.

As Scott resumed his gentle rubbing of Mistress's exposed ass, Scott continued. "Now Molly, keep in mind  that there are other campers not far off.  Let's not make them think anything improper is going on over here. Can you keep your voice low through this ordeal, or is a gag in order."

Mistress responded in a surprisingly submissive voice. 

"I'll do my best, Sir."

"OK, let me know if you change your mind."

With that Scott used his left hand to hold Mistress's bound wrists, securing her to his lap, while his right palm began to rain a a slow but steady assault on Mistress's squirming bottom.    Started with seemingly gentle slaps, that produced squirms and giggles from his 'Victim", he slowly built up  to a firmer rhythm that had Mistress jerking, then moaning in response. Mistress was doing her best to "take her medicine", but I could tell her bottom was getting red and the pain was becoming real.  Scott must have sensed it too, because his pace slowed, then stopped. 

"I like the way you squirm," Scott told her.  I was guessing Mistress was taking some satisfaction in sensing a  hardening cock under her pelvis.

Now Scott's hand was between her thighs, sliding to her sex, fingers probing. This seemed to get Mistress's hips gyrating even more, rising up to meet her hand.  Her faux struggles to  resist Scott's gentle caress were, of course, fruitless, as he held her firmly in place on her lap.

By now it was dark, so I couldn't see what surely were glistening  juices on Scott's fingers as he held them up for me to see. 

"I think you're right Mick.  This bondage and corporal punishment thing seems to light your Mistress's fire."

Back on task, Scott spent some time with a sweet and sour approach to Mistress. Firm spanks followed by gentle but insistent fondling of those damp, clean shaven folds.  

Of course, the outcome was inevitable: Mistress ultimately exploded into a throbbing, gyrating cum that left her breathless. Hopefully our neighboring campers were not listening too closely, or were otherwise inspired by her wanton performance.

"Oh, God" was about all she could muster. She was both shaken and stirred by Scott's "punishment," her hair a disheveled mess, breath still a bit ragged from her "ordeal."

Scott helped her off the lap, and asked me to relieve Mistress of her jeans and panties. I was happy to comply, and then helped her stand, with her resting her shoulder against my shoulder for support.  Weak knee-ed  was a good description of her state. 

"Hands?" she whispered, clearly hoping for release. I looked to Scott for direction. 

"OK, but redo them in front.  We have more business to take care of in that tent."

I followed orders again, loosening Mistress from her bonds.  She rubbed her wrists briefly, but submissively co-operated as I retied her wrists, palm to palm in front. 

"Thanks, Mick.  I think I can take her from here. "

Scott took Mistress under a strong arm,  gently helping her into her tent, no doubt ready to take his "Switch Day" prize.

Mistress's good night to me included "Remember, Slave....no touching." The tone of her voice suggested that there might be a price for me to pay for my "complicity" in the night's activities.  

To Be Continued....