Mistress has been perusing her options at AM over the last few weeks -- though she shut her profile down yesterday due to in box overload as she sorts through a short list of "persons of interest".
But she is still a little confused about how the system works. So we clicked over to Ashley and Me yesterday to look for some guidance from the irrepressible Riff Dog, who's combination of humour and daring could not help get us giggling as we poured over his increasingly rare posts. Some times we actually thought that he was a clever PR shill for AM. Other times we became convinced that he really was an aging rock star / producer with cajones as big as a Malibu sunset.
But what did we find..... nada. The statement that this blog is no longer open to the public.
So tell us readers.... what happened to Riff Dog? Did he move onto blogger heaven? Did AM get an injunction? If anyone knows, please fill us in, either in the comments section or via email to BigLove1963@gmail.com.
Now.... where were we....
Ahhh.... Switch Day.
Mistress had dodged that bullet for the last several weeks, primarily due to our travel schedule and the close quarters we shared with our daughter in Paris. But yesterday morning there were no excuses. Up early. Plenty of time before Mistress's spinning class.
She read the blog as I lavished those clean shaven folds with devotion, but when she put the lap top down, the quick and easy cum she has become used to was not in the cards for poor Mistress.
"Why'd you stop, Slave?"
"Remember what day it is, Mistress?"
She grumbled a bit, as I affixed those red leather cuffs to her wrists, then locked her down, on her tummy, with her arms spread and attached to the corners of the bed.
It has been cold here the last few days, and Mistress had slept in those fetching peek-a-boo tights. I used a soft rope to tie her ankles together. That's when Mistress got a little squirmy, her liberty denied for the first time in several weeks.
Now was a time for Slave to make a choice. Her bottom was so available, and so very spankable. But she'd so far failed to administer the cropping she'd been threatening since we returned from Paris. I figured, why tempt fate and escalate?
So instead Mistress got a slow ans senuous massage, first with my hands, then using her favorite power tool, along the length of those lovely AM overloading legs, and up across her back and shoulders. Mistress's squirms became increasingly pronounced as the business end of her Hiatchi drew ever closer to the vortex of her desires. That musky scent was already filling the executive suite.
Yum.
Of course, ultimately I had to bring this little exercise to a head..... though it was tempting to let her languish a bit. AS I slid the vibrating bulb between those bound legs, and let her hump it, she sighed with relief.
And then there was that long build up, as her leg and ass muscles flexed and contracted, her energy focused on building to that inevitible conclusion to our morning's exercise.
I love it when that whimpering voice begs, "may I come Slave...."
And of course, while I could have said no, one does have to consider what happens when the power to say no is on the other foot, so to speak.
"Of course, Mistress."
That triggered even more flexing of those lovely muscles along her legs and butt, until she tipped over the edge, thrusting and moaning, pulling against her bindings, until she was sobbing in relief, tears running down her cheeks. That was my cue to hit the off switch, and cuddles next to my bound beauty.
"Intense, Slave.... very intense."
I let Mistress rest a bit and recover. Then she was unbound and rolled over, her legs spread, ready for her Slave to take his reward.
And of course, I was ready too.
