Love All

Over the last few days, Mistress has been spending some time entertaining clients at a tennis tournament going on this fortnight up the road from River City. And sometimes Mick gets to come along for the ride.

Last week it was the tennis babes who were in town.

Now the guys are here.

Mistress has snapped a few shots of guys who register on her “hunk” meter, and emailed them to me or to M for our amusement. A Spaniard named Lopez seemed to particularly catch her eye.

And last night, her Slave got to come a long to be charming and hold Mistress’s beverages.

Yes, I can do charming, like any good domesticated Slave may be required to do from time to time.

Mistress was particularly moved by the exotic accent of the Egyptian referee, who was a swarthy fellow, and rumbled in a peculiar Egyp-lish sound about whether a call had been challenged or there had been a “Leeaat”.

I promised to try to replicate later that evening in bed.

But during the doubles matches, things can get a little dull. We clicked onto our email account and say Weave’s charming comment about his admiration for Mistress’s ability to “Multitask”. That got me teasing Mistress, as we whispered at courtside, about our episode Sunday afternoon during which she demonstrated an uncanny ability to eat caramel corn and come at the same time. It was a fascinating engagement of two orifices, slightly different than the one ‘Nilla envisioned in her recent episode of “The Mountain.”

“Mistress, have you ever done that before…..eat and come at the same time?”

“Not that I recall, Slave.”

Hmmm. She was sounding like a well coached witness with something to hide.

I decided to ask M if this was something he had witnessed at home.

“I’m e mailing M to ask him if B can do that trick.”

She laughed but did not object. Later we got his response.

"Too funny! No she doesn't believe in eating in bed. unlike u two lunatics we don't have picnics in bed... wish we did but oh well... very impressive multi tasking though Molly! u should have been an executive.... keeping all those balls in the air would be a breeze compared to your level of concentration drive and purpose. too funny."

Yes, it was impressive.

But soon the tag team from Carmel, Indiana succumbed to an odd combination from Pakistan and India (we were concerned that there might be a nuclear confrontation of they lost), and Mistress and her Slave were heading home.

We surprised Surly teen #2 when we arrived home a tad earlier than she had planned. Ur basement was filled with some of her surly compadres, though if they were up to no good, it was hard for us to tell.

Upstairs, Mistress reminded me of the next morning’s agenda:

“I want you in your cage in the morning, Slave.”


“Of course, Mistress.”

I would not be repeating the mistake I made Monday. (Still awaiting that punishment.)

“But now, go put in your device….I want a hard cock to go with the Egyptian accent.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Domination, Submission and Tennis

Last night Molly and Mick went to a tennis tournament. Two women were whacking the be-jesus out of the little yellow ball. They were both Russian (though one has lived in the US since age 7, explaining her fluency in good old Amerikun expletives).

Both were impressive athletes, but with distinctive physiques: one (We’ll call her Maria), was tall (6’2”), willowy, blonde and impossibly slender, and cool as a cucumber. The Ice Queen.

The other (Anastasia) was 2 or 3 inches shorter, solidly built, brunet-ish, and seemed to sweat profusely, even during her warm-ups. In my mind she was a Soviet era hotel hall monitor in the making, less 20 years.

We were fortunate to have seats at court side, so it was easy to watch their well formed bodies contort and strain through their three set match, and to hear all the little to loud sounds they were generating.

The women’s game has progressed to the point where one assumes that these two impressive specimens could kick the asses of the stars of my younger days– Connors, Borg, McEnroe, Ashe, Laver. Or at least bring them to their knees.

But what’s with our inability not to see these athletes through the lens of our own kinky mind set.

What got to Molly and Mick were the sweet and sassy noises they made.

“Do you hear them Slave…..It’s like they’re having sex.”

Ahhh, yeah…..Very hot. M would get a kick out of this.”

Maria let out a thrilling high pitched shriek every time she served, or as she clobbered the ball for one of her powerful ground strokes. It was a derivative of the famous Jimmy Connors grunt, but with the carnal quality of a commanding woman on the verge of a climax she was taking at her whim, from whatever available cock that had come along for her ride.

She was a cool and controlling Dominatrix on the court, using her height and power to her advantage, toying with her opponent, slowly extracting the last bit of   energy from her, until she  finally had Anastasia at her complete mercy..

Her cries of ecstasy reminded me of the one Mistress makes when she rides my cock, as my hands are tied above my head to the bed, or when she takes me from behind with her strap-on. Ecstatic, triumphant, and very passionate.

On the other hand, Anastasia was the quiet one, usually hitting the ball with a silent, work-woman-like focus.She was in the match, but just barely, and only when she had complete focus. It was an uphill battle, and the hill kept getting steeper for her.

But there were occasional exceptions to her silence ……when a point got particularly challenging, when she had to race to the corner, stretch for a shot, or bend her knees particularly low for the leverage she needed to keep a ball alive….there was this little secret sound. …. A tiny, whimpering moan.

She was the Sub of this enterprise, reluctant to admit she had already surrendered to the taller, stronger, more powerful woman across the net from her.

Her sounds reminded me of the ones Mistress makes when M is on the phone, saying those secret things he says in the way he says them, and I am on my knees sucking her clit between my lips.

Anastasia was the woman who only reluctantly discloses how deeply immersed she is in the moment, until the throws of orgasm are cascading over her.

When the match ended – and you can guess who prevailed – both women headed to the locker room. It was hard for this Slave not to imagine a scene later that evening, with Anastasia on her knees before Maria, who’s legs would be spread, demanding acknowledgement of who was the Mistress and who was the servant.

Yes, folks, I do have a pervy imagination, don’t I?

And as for Mistress and me, it’s our switch day. I wonder if I can figure a way to get Mistress to make some of those Anastasia sounds for me.

She was one heck of a tennis player in her youth.