Mistress Gets Tag Teamed

With Mistress on orgasm quarantine since Wednesday evening, I had to quickly re-engineer my prime directive.

After her impromptu date with M that night, Mistress was a bit dazed. Sounds like she had several earth moving comes at his command. And when she came down stairs to retrieve me, it really did seem that her knees were a tab wobbly.

And yet, generous to a fault, she insisted that I should fuck her before she collapsed in a heap.

“Go put in your device, Slave” (the little white aneros she sometimes has me where to assure a particularly rigid cock).

“Of course, Mistress …. But are you sure you want me to impose when you aren’t allowed to come….”

“Of course I do…. You were very patient down there, waiting for me while I talked to M.”

And I was certainly glad Mistress did not decide that when she is on orgasm restriction her Slave should be too.

When I came to bed, my cock was already filling out nicely …. The thought of Mistress toeing her Master’s line apparently had a certain cunning effect.

And she added to my heft with those tender fingers, working my cock and balls until I was begging for the privilege to fuck her.

Finally, she relented.

“But be careful, Slave…. We don’t want to violate M’s rules do we?”

Uh…. I guess we didn’t. So I re-jiggered my mental conditioning as best I could. Normally I am wired to assure Mistress a climax or two long before I begin to focus on drive my cock over the cliff.

But now I was focusing on a pleasurable send off for myself, without prolonging Mistress’s frustration was my cock pounded into her and my lips toyed with her tender nipples.

But it turned out the circuitry was amenable to some rewiring, and more quickly than I thought was possible, I exploded into her, moaning my delight, and relief.

“Oh my, Slave, that sounded like a good one.”

Mistress was even kind enough to let me take her that way again on Thursday morning. Patiently laying there, seemingly quite turned on as I fucked her, and yet willing her self to avoid violating her Master’s command.

Quite impressive.

We were off in different directions yesterday. And I was wondering how Mistress was handling her restrictions.

So there were some occasional texts from me, like “getting horny, Mistress?” Which earned a curt response, “no taunting, Slave.”

When we talked after lunch, Mistress told me that M was also stoking her fire.

“He says he deciding whether I get to come tonight or not.”

“I can’t imagine he’d leave you twisting in the wind for more than a day, Mistress.”

“I don’t know, Slave. I think he likes me squirmy and begging.”

“Who wouldn’t, Mistress. And isn’t that the way you like me?”

“Exactly”

At the end of the work day I was joining a group of my fellow Hibernians for an annual tradition: a picnic to celebrate the St. Patrick’s Day solstice, so to speak. Six months since the last celebration, and six months to the next.

There would be plenty of Guinness and Jamieson, and steaks to end the night.

Mistress was spending the dinner hour with the surly teens, taking them for Sushi (and a little Saki for her).

But mid way through the picnic, I got through to Mistress on her cell phone.

“Any word on M’s plans for you Mistress?”

“He’s being nice, Slave. He says I am allowed to come tonight while riding your cock.”

Ummm. Sounds good. And that cock gave off a little twitch, as if it knew it would be called to duty.

When I got home, a bit tipsy, but serviceable, Mistress was getting back from dinner with the teens. And she seemed particularly anxious to get down to business before M changed his order of the day.

“Is M calling you tonight, Mistress?”

I knew his wife B was still out of town, leaving M a little out of sorts. And he still had that “All Access Pass” to my wife.

“Maybe later, Slave….but lets do it before he calls, OK.”

“I am your servant, as always, Mistress.”

She told me to insert my little “device” again, and she was naked and ready for me. This was a woman in no need of foreplay.

But I confess, this aging Slave, after a drink or three, needed some priming to provide that cock Mistress was told to ride.

Mistress generously used fingers and mouth to get me to the proper, serviceable dimensions.

And she did it all while answering M’s persistent text messages…..he was curious about whether and when and how she would get that first curfew ending come that he had authorized.

That sort of multi-tasking has a cute Ginger Rogers / Fred Astair analogy in it, but I will leave that for another blog and try to get to the point. But soon Mistress’s patience ran out.

“I’m telling him I need to focus now, Slave….”

She put her I-phone down, pushed me onto my back and slid with fierce urgency onto the hard cock she had engineered for her own pleasure.

Soon Mistress was moaning, taking the time as she slid up and down on my shaft to build herself to a nice hearty climax.

Then she collapsed onto me.

“Was it worth the wait, Mistress.”

“Oh….yes, Slave….definitely.”

She rolled over, allowing me to take her, and I did for a while. But the St. Patrick’s celebration was beginning to take it’s toll. As it turned out, it was the Slave who would be fucking without coming on this particular evening.

“How about I finish this task up in the morning, Mistress?”

“Of course, Slave…..”

I think she was amused at my plight.

So to that extent the tables were turned from the night before. It was Mistress who got the pleasuring on this occasion, and the Slave who was to be deferred.

And not long after, as we lay in bed, reading books, Mistress’s text went off again.

“M wants to know if he can call now Slave….”

“Why of course, Mistress ….”

And as I watched a lopsided College football game downstairs, while reading the morning’s Times, I knew that upstairs, Mistress was in the good (virtual) hands of my tag team partner.

It does take a Village. Or, in this case, at least a couple of deviant Male villagers.

HNT /Spaired

Only a short posting this am, dear readers. It was a late night here in the heartland, with me stuck with a bunch of rowdy Irishmen in tuxedos, while Mistress displayed and submitted herself wantonly to her Dom.

On my way to the big event I texted Mistress to let her know I was headed out, and added “are you being slutty, Mistress.”

Sometime later I received her response.

“Of course, Slave.” 

Argh.

Some of you were concerned about how he would handle her failure to follow some rather clear instructions about the trimming of her “bush”. He wanted a racing stripe. Mistress’s waxer took it all off. Oops.

I speculated that Mistress may have been asking for a punishment. And she did receive a bit of a spanking, she reports.  But not too hard.  Or for too long. Instead, he seemed to be taken by the “nary a hair” look. And who wouldn’t be. But he did suggest that she print out the instructions the next time.

Argh.

I learned of this and other details after I stripped off the tux, and knelt to worship her.

“Do I taste different, Slave.”

She was referring to her well used cunt.

Hmmmm? I savored the flavors, like “chewing” a  musky Cab.

  Well, yes, you do Mistress.”

I listened to her story. My cock growing harder which each twist and turn.

There would be more questions later.