You can imagine why Slave might have been subliminally drawn to this carton of eggs the other day at our local organic grocery store. Mistress has been pretty lenient on her Slave's cage time of late, and we didn't even pack one for our trip out west.
As a general rule the cage seems to be limited to those days when Mistress has a "date" with a lover (or prospect) and the extra control gives her a bit of a thrill.
But yesterday, as we took the hike down into the Rio Grande canyon for some "beach time", Mistress disclosed that D, who has become a student of the blog, has raised the prospect of more cage time for Slave.
'I think he likes the idea of you in the cage, Slave....that maybe he wants to be in charge of that...."
"Hmmmm..... that's an interesting development, Mistress....."
"Not only that, but he was even talking about a chastity device for me too....."
Yikes.
"And how did you react to that, Mistress?"
"It's kind of hot, Slave.....don't you think?"
Who would I be to disagree when Mistress thinks something is hot?
Down on the river bank, where we found a couple of older gents lounging in the pools of warm spring water in the buff, we found a little patch of beach to spread out our towels. Mistress opted for some top less sunbathing, but kept her bottoms on, which seemed appropriate later when some families arrived, kids in tow. It was a holiday weekend, and not surprising that the springs were a popular destination for the tourists in the area.
As we soaked in the sun and read from our kindles it was hard for Slave not to go back to the subject of Mistress in chastity, with D in charge of the key.
"So what did you tell when he brought up the concept of a chastity device for you, Mistress?
"Hmmmm.... I said it would have to be something you couldn't see through form fitting clothes."
Always, practical, isn't she?
"And I wondered how Id shower in it, Slave, or shave the folds....."
"I guess that would be one way for him to get that fur grown back, wouldn't it, Mistress?"
Mistress just giggled. She's grown fond of the clean shaven look, and, of course, so have I. No hairs getting caught in my teeth is a definite perk for a guy who spends some much time in worship mode.
But as I glanced down at Mistress's delectable tush, in her tie-dye two piece suit bottoms, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if Mistress was wearing some sort of chastity gear underneath, at D's direction.
That's when I rolled over onto my stomach. No need to put a show on for the kids.
Sometimes I wake up here at the UCTMW World HQ without a clue on what I will write about. And this morning, with the need to wake Mistress by 6:30 am if I am to have my chance for wake-up glory, there was a little extra pressure to meet more morning deadline.
You're probably tired of me reciting the glories of wake-up sex, or the thrill of worshiping Mistress's clean shaven folds at the end of the day. There was no news on the J / Mistress front today - though he will be joining us for dinner tonight. (But alas, the cute C0-Ed will be here too.)
But then I noticed Suxanne's comments over at All Mine about a recent TSA Blog that notes the discovery of a chastity belt by an airport scanner. The writer notes that such devices are not specifically prohibited, but suggests it's not wise to travel with them without the key.
Of course, this raised Suzanne's eyebrow: as she noted, I've you've got the key, what's the point? (Unless you are traveling with your Mistress and she's got the key!)
And I also had to wonder what exactly the folks at TSA would want to do with the key. WOuld this be like discovering a treasure that someone would want to convert for their own use?
Images of being pulled into a private viewing area by a well armed, long legged TSA inspectress come to my smutty mind.
"I need to perform a more complete inspection, Sir, before I can send you on your way...."
Back in the day when Slave was commuting to see Mistress on the weekends, there were some times when I was required to wear my CB 2000 on Delta. We had those little numbered plastic locks. It was always a pleasure to have Mistress decide when (or potentially, whether ) to cut that little plastic lock and let me free for our re-union sex.
In those days there were no full body scanners that would detect something that was not metal.
But now that I have the hard steel cage, and rarely travel on my own, it's really not been an issue.
But I have speculated about what folks like tammy do when they are in a plastic cage and need to stand in that scanner, arms overhead, waiting for someone to titter or pull them aside.
Mistress has an early meeting out in the burbs, so not driving together today. So Mistress is exercising her right to make sure I don’t get into trouble. No problem there from me. Mistress has gone pretty easy on me of late, so a day in the cage will hardly be burdensome. Just a nice reminder of who is n charge.
The more challenging part is Mistress’s decision to re-impose my abstinence day today. It’s a rule that has been honored only in the breach of late. Buy considering our heightened level of sexual activity the last few days, it might be particularly hard to forego my privileges to fuck Mistress’s tight little cunt today.
Yeah, I know that is counter-intuitive. All this sex seems like it deserves a 24 hour “time out” every now and then to recharge my aging male testosterone reserves.
But I find that the more I do it, the more I want to do it. Crazy. I guess it’s the way a runner needs more and more miles to keep finding that elusive “runners’ high”. But it’s not as hard on your knees.
In any event, it has been a crazy couple of days here in River City.
Mistress’s hot infatuation with our Western correspondent has gotten her into a state where she oozes sexuality and is horny as hell. She is a potential threat to any man she encounters. .And I have the (fortunate) task of trying to keep her satisfied so that she does not go off the deep end, jump on a plane headed west, and show up at this lucky stud’s office and demand to be fucked across his desk. Preferably from behind.
It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it .
So Monday morning – she’s up early enough and we have quick but satisfying sex before heading to work.
On the way home that day, she talks about some texts from her friend, and seems to be fidgeting in her seat.
She had also gotten an email from her local Dom, anxious to set up their next date. Mistress was torn a bit. She seems so focused on Western M that it may be ahrd for her to re-focus on the cock closer at hand.
When we got home, Worship promptly, ensued – me on my knees, her legs spread, bike shorts hanging from one ankle - before we head out for our bike ride. It was required just to take her edge off.
Later that evening, after dinner, we had a chance for a more prolonged encounter. She was pleasured with my lips once again, and then I fucked her properly, pounding into her with an intermittent pace – a little faster, then a little slower. I was trying to give Mistress several orgasms to allow her to sleep well. And all along we chatted about what was on her mind.
“You’d like to be at his mercy, wouldn’t you Mistress….”
“Yes, Slave….I would.”
“You want him to make you beg for those orgasms, don’t you Mistress?”
“Yes Slave…I would ….maybe you should let him know.”
(Mistress thinks this is all a big conspiracy – that I have fed Western M the inside intelligence required to enthrall Mistress. Not so. Other than the clues that he might pick up as a fan o’ the blog, he’s been on his own.)
Soon we were both over the edge, me collapsed on top of her, and hoping this remedy would get her through the night.
Tuesday the cycle seemed to accelerate. I pleased her with my mouth, She allowed me a quick fuck to accommodate her early meeting at work. Then we were out the door.
On the way to work I suggested that maybe she and Western M should figure away to have phone sex during work hours.
“Maybe you should get him to jack off for you, Mistress. It would only be fair.”
“Hmm….I have never done that before Slave. You and he are the story tellers.”
I reminded her of the phone and video sex chats we used to have when we were commuting.
“I am sure you can find the words, Mistress. All you need to do is describe how hot he makes you and what to do to his cock.”
Waiting for a report on that one.
At lunch time, Mistress was over to my office for some worship. She took a funny picture of the scene to taunt her distant lover, and texted it off to him, even as I was sucking at her cunt.
On the way home, Mistress told me that M described a cabin in the mountains where he would like to take her someday for a weekend of enslavement. And, fool that I am, I had no problem with that.
“Tell him you don’t need my permission. It’s in our contract. I will even throw in the bondage equipment.”
And of course Mistress promptly texted this good news to M. No doubt he thinks we are insane.
At home, Mistress was again desperate for some worship, even before our bike ride. And when I was done, she needed my cock too. So we had a “quicky” before sliding our bike shorts back on.
This morning, Mistress had another early meeting. SO she was up early. I heard her rustling around so came up with my computer and coffee to join her in bed. She was giggling about some emails she and M had exchanged, reading me the “good” parts. When she was done I was allowed to please her with my lips and tongue.
She had told M that it was my Abstinence Day. He replied by questioning her resolve.
“I’ll bet he ends up getting some….”
But at least this morning, Mistress’s resolve held. Though she seemed tempted.
After I finished pleasing her, she reached down and noticed that my cock was stretching out a bit.
“Hmmmm. Looks good Slave.”
She bent over, took it in her mouth. I could feel the cool touch of her lips and the maddening stroke of her hot tongue. My cock was quickly at full alert.
But just as quickly she pulled away, climbed out of bed and wrapped herself in her fluffy green terry robe.
“Sorry….but I do need to get in the shower, Slave. Remember, no touching while I am gone”.
Arggh. But of course, I obeyed.
You will not be surprised that it took a few minutes for me to get ready to put this cage on.
My steel cage was back on yesterday after a few days of merciful amnesty.
I worked and mushed my balls, then my cock through the hard steel ring in the morning before climbing back into bed with a waking, slightly groggy, Mistress. She likes the affect she can achieve with the ring gripping me, trapping the blood.
Once she uses her skills to make me hard I stay that way for some time. It fills her cunt more completely. It makes it more difficult for me to come. And when I do? Well the result is rather …. Dramatic.
After we had our way with one another, I was off to the shower. Then I slid the cage over my cock, sliding it onto the short stud protruding from the ring, sliding the pad lock into place, and letting Mistress close the lock. I was safe and secure for the day until she chose to release me.
Later, after lunch, Mistress stopped by for a “visit”. She had some time to kill between meetings, and I was looking forward to my opportunity for some worship, something that is all the more fun with her freshly waxed and delightfully naked cunt.
Mistress had on her winter uniform of black dress, tights and boots, though the tights were a little sheerer than normal. She sat. I knelt. We talked a bit. Then I used my mouth and tongue to taste the insides of Mistress thighs and the crotch of her tights. It’s easy to get into full “slave mode” in that position.
When the scent of Mistress’s arousal became more pronounced, I helped her slide those tights down to her boot tops, then went to work in earnest on her delicious parts, now more accessible than ever, the little pink bud poking out between her full lips.
Mistress’s hands were wound into my hear, fingers kneading my scalp, as my lips sucked that little bud into my mouth, and her hips rose in response. By the time I was done my face and the little blanket she was sitting on were soaked with her juices. And my cock was straining against its tight enclosure.
Mistress arrived home a little later than normal last night, after me. We rested a bit, catching up on the nation’s slow descent into socialism (not) on the evening news. I offered to worship, but Mistress demurred.
“I need to rest a bit Slave. You served me well this afternoon.”
I had no complaint. But I do feel its my obligation to offer. It’s in the contract, after all.
It was not until after dinner that Mistress remembered.
“Your cage. I forgot to unlock it! Is that why you were so anxious to worship me, Slave?”
“No. No problem. It’s not uncomfortable”.
And it wasn’t, though it can be a little tight in the mornings. Hard to figure why there is a time -of -day difference. I think my balls just relax a bit better by midday. They get used to their “surroundings” and settle in.
But Mistress was merciful. She found the key and unlocked me, giving me a little kiss for my “suffering in silence.”
As I slid off the cage and eased my tender balls out of the ring, I felt like her little puppy dog. But who’s to complain. I’m well fed, have a very warm bed to sleep in, and Mistress gladly takes care of my “baser” needs.
That’s why the first thing I did this morning is slide that steel ring back on, ready for Mistress when she calls.
Mistress is going to the Big Apple Tuesday morning. She will be going to a Board meeting, mixing with some potentates from the media and education world. No doubt there will be powerful and charming men for her to flirt with. She will be back Wednesday night.
Meanwhile Slave has his own duties: working and riding herd over the surly teens.
But here is the question for you lurkers and commenters out there: should Mistress lock her Slave's cage and keep the key with her?
Or should she trust her Slave with an unharnessed cock?
Of course, Mistress reserves the right to make this call, but she would like some advice ... let us know.
I woke up early this morning, around 5:30 am. Mistress seemed groggily awake too. We were cuddled close in bed, my cock soft, but a little twitchy, nestled against her firm ass.
“I’m getting up now, Mistress.”
I planned to leave her sleeping. She needs her beauty rests.
She rolled over, clung to me. As my face pressed against her lush, full breasts, I had second thoughts.
So my mouth began to work a bit on Mistress’s firm nipples. Something that made her squirm. When she failed to push me away, or roll over, I took that as a “go”. Instead, she made some encouraging sounds. When she rolled onto her back, my hand snaked between her legs. Very wet.
As I worked my fingers there, I mentioned something that had come to mind as I woke.
“You’ve been keeping the cage on me longer these days, Mistress.”
Wednesday night, she kept it on me through our meet up with our new FetLife friends, releasing me only so I could fuck her when we got home, around 11 pm or so.
Thursday had been my Abstinence Day, and Mistress was feeling a bit under the weather. So the cage stayed on until she was in the mood to be worshipped, well into the evening. And while I took off the “cage” part, I left the steel ring on overnight, because …well it was just easier to leave it there, gripping my cock and balls through the night.
Then the cage was back on Friday morning, after Mistress had the benefit of my full and firm cock before I headed to work. It stayed on through some evening activities in our downtown, to be unlocked only when we slid into bed at around 10 pm.
“Yes….I suppose I have. It’s good for you, Slave. Seems to make you want me more.”
“Maybe so…. Is that it….or….”
My fingers were still working, picking up the pace. Mistress convulsed into a nice little explosion for me, though I kept at it a bit longer, helping her through the aftershocks.
“What, Slave?”
Now her hand was on my cock. It was already firm and ready. But she likes to play a bit, and who am I to object.
“I keep thinking of you stripping for him, Mistress.”
“Yes … does that turn you on, Slave?”
“Yes, Mistress. Did it turn you on? ….you said you weren’t going to … not the first time.”
“It did turn me on, Slave.”
“Did you feel compelled…like you had no choice?”
“Yes… I … needed to do it … once he asked me. Is that OK?”
“Of course, Mistress”.
Mistress’s fingers on my cock were driving me crazy. Fortunately, she rolled away, onto her back again.
“Why don’t you fuck me now, Slave.”
She did not have to ask twice.
As I slid into her, she moaned with delight, and I pressed hard against her, doing the things I knew would bring her close to the edge.
“What are you thinking, Slave?”
She likes to make me talk about it. Knew exactly what I was thinking about.
“You liked him fucking you, didn’t you Mistress?”
“Yes … it was …good.”
“You want him again, don’t you?”
“I do, Slave.”
In fact, they had emailed yesterday, setting up another meeting.
“You’ve been thinking about his cock too, haven’t you Mistress?
“I have Slave.”
“Does that make you wet?”
“It does.”
Mistress and I were clutching one another now, me buried inside her, sliding against her as I listened to her ragged breathing, so close to the breaking point.
“and you liked him using his fingers on you, didn’t you, Mistress?”
“Oh, yes.”
I pulled back a bit, still inside her, but giving my own fingers some space to play with her clit, rubbing it as out bodies slid against one another.
“What was it like begging for him Mistress ….did it turn you on to beg for the right to come?”
She moaned. But I could here her affirmation in the moan.
“How does it feel to beg him, like the way you make me beg?”
”Good, Slave. Very good”. And then Mistress came for me, quaking and moaning, her head thrown back, eyes slammed shut.
This week Mick and Molly met for drinks with a charming couple we “friended“ on fet life. They live across the river that our River City smacks up against, not too far away.
D and N moved here not long ago from out West, much to our consternation. Nothing like trading in 300 days a year of sunshine for the gloom of the heartland. But family called.
D, the male part of the couple, is the strong but seemingly laid back Dom. N is his cute and very feisty Slave. He’s a bit younger than Mick. She’s a bit younger than Molly.
Their FetLife page intrigued us. They are very much into the “Lifestyle”, wheras Mick and Molly keep all this stuff very private (unless you happen to read this crazy blog). They have posed for and posted lots of provocative photos: N's naked bottom glowing red; kinky costumes; various restraining devices; and plenty of implements of “punishment”. Interesting stuff.
Then there was D’s message to Molly, sent after he perused her posting and a bit of our blog:
“I am intrigued by the cuckold lifestyle. It wouldn’t work for me since sexually I am clearly Dominant. But the idea of tormenting some poor husband while his wife is made to serve is interesting.”
Mistress got back in touch, and we agreed to meet.
When we finally sat down with D and N in a local bistro, the real buzz was in actually talking about what we do and how we do it, face to face with real folks.
Mistress was a natural in taking charge, leading the conversation and “grilling” our new friends about their lives in the BDSM world. They seemed happy to share with us naive newbies.
Hearing Mistress call me her Slave outside the privacy of the bedroom, was … arousing. Calling her “Mistress” in public was a thrill.
They talked about how they met, some of the rules she must follow, and how they work their 24/7 relationship into their family and work life.
They told us about the public and private play parties that we have only speculated about. Interesting, though we are a bit hesitant to “go public” in what is a small town.
And they described the “secret” dungeon hidden behind some cabinets in their basement.
Mistress had me locked away in my cage, and when she talked about how we found it on line, and got the measurements right, my cock was twitching against the cold steel.
When we parted we agreed to meet again soon, and show them some of the attractions on our side of the River.
I think Molly was intrigued, and tempted, when D talked about his training in the arts of bondage and “impact play”, and the psychology of training and commanding a female slave.
Who knows … maybe someday D and N will give us a tour of their dungeon.
I woke up this morning, pressed against Mistress’s delightful bottom, my cock throbbing for her. Mistress was twitching about herself in her sleep, and the motion of her firm cheeks against me were getting me harder. Hmmm.
The fact that it was my deferred Abstinence Day was already troubling. Rather than press the point or wiggle away, I climbed out of bed, grabbed my laptop, and the steel ring of my cage and came downstairs to do my “homework”.
Before Mistress went off on her adventure with her new Dom on Tuesday, she spoke “Wife to Husband” to me for a few moments.
“You know I don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning angry at me.”
I gave her my assurances. Told her that I did not think that would be a problem. I wanted to honor my contract, and suspected that if anything, her adventure would bring us closer together and make me want her all the more.
But, truth be told, neither of us knew how we would feel once Mistress gave herself, no matter how briefly, to another.
Well, on the morning after, I let my cock do the thinking. And it was very much purpose driven. It was on a reclamation project. And fortunately, Mistress had given me a one day reprieve from my Abstinence Day obligations.
Mistress had shared some details: how after some talk and a description of his rules, she had been led to his bedroom and told “it was time” to submit to inspection.
She thought she would say “no” on this first private encounter, as he said was her right. But when the time came, he must have been persuasive. She described how she had slowly stripped for him, under his appraising eye, as he sat watching her. And how he required her to kneel to allow him to touch and stimulate her tits and nipples.
“Did that make you, wet, Mistress.”
“Yes. He commented on that.”
“How, Mistress?”
“He touched me there. Told me how wet I was.”
As I sat down here with my coffee yesterday morning, the hard steel ring collecting my cock and balls, those thoughts inspired my prose and had me up the stairs early. Mistress seemed impressed with when she reached for my cock and discovered how hard and determined it was to take her cunt back, at least for the time being.
It slid where his fingers and cock had been the night before. And by the time we were done, I believed my reclamation project had gotten off to a nice start.
When I got out of the shower, I presented myself to Mistress for her to secure the lock on my cage. She clicked the lock shut, then mentioned that she had received an email from her Sir.
“Did he seem happy with you, Mistress.”
“Yeah. Seems so. I forwarded it to you. Tell me what you think.”
As I ate my breakfast, I thumbed through my emails on my blackberry and found Sir’s message. He described how, like me, he woke in the morning with a cock that was full, with thoughts of his fingering and fucking my Mistress’s tight cunt. He asked whether she enjoyed tasting and touching his cock and balls. And whether she wanted him to take her again.
My own cock strained against its steel restraints. It might be a long day.
As I kissed Mistress goodbye, I asked whether she enjoyed knowing that two men had hard cocks for her this morning.
“It’s a nice thing, Slave.”
Mistress stopped by my office before lunch, before heading home after an early meeting. I was ready to devour her, and quickly pushed the chair against my door, laying the fleece blanket down to absorb our juices and kneeling. She must have been anxious too, because she had already pulled down her dark brown tights to give me access.
As my mouth worked away at her, I muttered a question that had been eating at me all morning.
“So did you respond to your friend’s email Mistress?”
“Yes”.
“And”.
“I told him I would like to see him again.”
Soon Mistress was coming bucking against my mouth. And when I looked up she had a very devilish look on her face, as if to say “aren’t you a desperate little Slave.”. Mistress has both the right and a canny ability to press her Slave’s buttons.
When I got home, the teens were off to visit their trainer, and Mistress was napping. She was tired. I lay down next to her and we rested together. Mistress commented that all those orgasms must haven taken their toll. I tried to sympathize.
She kept my cage on for our engagement later that evening: a first meeting with a charming and intriguing couple found through the crazy world of FetLIfe. (Will talk about that later this week).
We got home near 11, and on many such late “work night” evenings it might be natural for us to defer any sexual activity until the morning. But Mistress and I were both a little randy. All the talk we had shared with this couple about the “lifestyle”, and Mistress’s frank description of some of the otherwise hidden details of our life had put both of us in a serious state of arousal. And of course my imagination was still working overtime as a result of Mistress’s adventure.
Mistress instructed me to insert my probe, making me all the harder for her. The power tool was deployed, driving Mistress to full throttle. By the time we were done … well, I felt that my reclamation project was in full swing.
Yesterday was an …interesting ….(also a little scary, exciting, apprehensive) day for Mick and Molly.
If you have been following us for a while, you know that Mistress has been on a bit of a quest in a hit or miss sort of way: she has sought out someone to help her explore her sub side.
Of course, our contract gave her the right to seek out (or be sought by) other lovers. When the contract was signed, that was just a hypothetical possibility. But it only seemed right that when a Slave fully submits, he also surrenders any claim of exclusivity. I was happy to do that to show my devotion to my Mistress.
Once she acquired that right, it was only natural for Mistress’s eyes to open a bit. “Use it or lose it” may be a proper mantra.
So she has acquired more a bit of a roving eye over the last few months, and her Slave takes a perverted delight in hearing when someone catches that eye.
But of course, Mistress is particular. There was an initial cyber / phone flirtation with an old lover from College days, who lived a few hundred miles away. Mistress was willing. He got cold feet.
But their chats and e’s and texts opened Mistress to the concept of her own submission to what she referred to as a “Part Time Dom.” It was an itch that needed to be scratched, a concept to be explored.
We wrote up a “job description” and posted it here back in late November. (You can find it on MollyCollins at FetLife too). There were some contacts with a few folks, even an interview with someone who talked a bit bigger than he was prepared to act. Etc. Etc. Not much developed.
More recently, Mistress had engaged in a dialogue with someone who passed her initial screening test. They met last week for a drink and talk. Her comfort meter (and curiosity) gave her a green light.
Yesterday was the day that Mistress was persuaded by this prospective Dom to visit his home. They had met once She was apprehensive, but adventurous enough to take the bait.
His email suggesting how this first meeting might go was …provocative. Particularly the establishment of rules, the need for permission to come, and the “full body inspection” to make sure she met his standards.
Mistress balked a bit at that. But they agreed things would go slowly, at her comfort level. He was a Dom who knew that Mistress needed to jump, and could not be pushed.
All this had this Slave a bit on edge. The concept was exciting. Deep psychological stuff going on, but all this cuckold talk and my submission to Mistress has been incendiary for our sex life. Very very incendiary. But in practice….we both knew that could be tricky.
Mistress was very sensitive to this…. She did not want to proceed if it would create issues down the road. But our open discussions (hopefully) gave her reassurance. I was game for something that would give her pleasure, and would get my own psychic and physical “reward” afterwards, as she shared any sordid details she decided to share with me.
I was to be locked in my cage as the day unfolded. As Mistress engaged with her new Dom she could reflect on my cock locked away until she chose to release it. And no matter how frustrated I became at the thought of what Mistress was up to, I could not handle myself without her key.
When she stopped by my office yesterday around noontime, I devoured her as she sat in her throne. When she had her fill of my lips and tongue, Mistress has a very pleased look on her face. We clung to one another before I walked her to the elevator. She was off on her adventure….
Her new Sir had instructed her on a recommended outfit….short skirt, no panties or tights. Blouse without bra. But Mistress is pretty strong willed (this could be a problem down the road), and it being 40 degrees or so here yesterday, bare legs were out of the question as far as she was concerned.
When she called while on her way (she had shared the directions with me for security purposes), she described her outfit, which was one of my favorites: short dark brown cashmere dress, dark brown tights, brown suede boots. Very hot. She had primped and he would not be disappointed. Argh.
Mistress texted me when she arrived.
“Here. Yikes”.
My response: “Good luck. Desperate for U, Mistress.”
And I was.
I was nervous too. She seemed to be in good, if firm hands. We had done some vetting. But still….
As the afternoon turned to evening, I was increasingly anxious, and as aroused as the cage would allow. I fed the teens, trying to focus on their chat about their “boring” day at school. I assembled and broke down all those documents needed for our tax return (an anti-aphrodisiac if there ever was one). I watched some women’s bob sledding. Things designed to keep my imagination from wandering.
There must have been a break in the “action” at some point. Mistress texted.
“I am fine. See you around 9 Slave.”
I was dying of curiosity, responding impertinently:
“Wet?”
20 or so minutes passed. No word. I figured she was off in sub land again, maybe getting fucked silly. Then a response:
“My Wonderful Slave… u will get to hear the whole sordid story when I get home to u”
Somehow, that made it seem better. I knew Mistress was safe and enjoying herself, as she should. But that she would be with me again soon. Very comforting.
She called on her way. But all I got was small talk.
“We’ll discuss when I get home, Slave.”
I could hear the tease in her voice. There was a story to share.
I put away my jumble of papers. Cleaned up the kitchen a bit. Those last 30 minutes seemed to take forever as I waited for her return.
When I saw her walking up the stairs, I took in my delicious Mistress – attired in the elegant and alluring outfit I described earlier. I pulled her to me. Her face seemed to delight in my devotion to her. Her smile betraying the secrets she would share.
Once we bid the teens good night, Mistress had me strip. I offered to kneel and worship, but she demurred, and we laid together on the bed. She unreeled the story slowly, frustratingly, toying with a very hard cock all the while.
And it was sordid.
Mistress had “succumbed”.
She had passed his inspection. And so much more.
And it seemed to please her very much.
And when the story was told, I undressed her, tasting what was left, then sliding into my incredibly tempting Mistress. As we made love I debriefed her further…deploying my cross examination techniques for some of the juicier details she had left out in her first narrative.
Because we have been sharing some fiction these last few days, readers may think that Mick and Molly have been slackers in the sex department. But as it turns out, we have been as crazy and compulsive as ever in our inability to suppress our sexual appetites.
We returned from our little mini-break late Tuesday night, tired from the Delta shuffle, and confronted by too much graying snow on the ground, and a house laid waste by surly teens in our absence. I lost track counting the empty pizza boxes.
That did dampen the fire a bit, and when I woke up Wednesday morning, realizing it was Abstinence Day, I knew I would have to keep my mind on other things to make it through the day.
But Mistress did not feel a need to co-operate. I donned my cage that morning, as she requires. The cold metal ring squeezing at the base of my balls was something I had not missed over our long weekend. But it is a nice reminder of my status. And it’s good to know Mistress cares enough to police me this way.
She was back at work too, and after a meeting downtown, she stopped by for some worship. After all, it had been, by then, a bit more than 24 hours for her as well.
And I was happy to please her. She took her place in her “throne”, an upholstered chair pressed against the closed door. And I took my place on my knees, sliding those alluring black tights down to her boot tops, making just enough room for my head to slide between her strong thighs.
By the time she had her fill of my lips and tongue, she seemed refreshed. But all I had to show for it was a very wet face and a cock straining against stainless steel, reminding me that I still had another 18 hours to go.
Mistress was worshiped again that evening. And while she released me from my cage, I was required to wait for more complete release until morning.
When I finally had a chance to take her on Thursday morning, about 48 hours had passed since my last opportunity to come. (I know, for some of you out there, that hardly seems like a sacrifice, but Mistress has me hooked and after only 24 hours ugly withdrawal symptoms rear their head, like Vladimir Putin winging it over Wasilla, Alaska).
The steel ring gripped my swollen balls and cock as Mistress consented to my request to fuck her, making my ultimate explosion … profound.
“Oh my, Slave. That was … impressive.”
Indeed.
After that Thursday morning parole, Mistress locked me away again, and it was off to work.
But what had me on edge through Thursday was knowing that Mistress had a first engagement that afternoon with someone … another man. In this case, she was meeting for a drink a prospective Dom who had contacted Molly after reading our postings.
Our “Contract” (reprinted in the early days of this blog), provides that Mistress has certain privileges that her Slave does not. They include the right to take other lovers, including other slaves. And her rights include her ability to submit to a Dom or Domme, as she chooses.
Now however this develops, what happens between Mistress and others is their business, and not for me to share (unless instructed to do so, of course).
But it’s hard not to comment on how these types of developments impact her Slave in this little world of ours. And, truth be told, Mistress’s outside “interests” do tend to raise the temperature a bit in our bed.
Why that is may be complicated, and way above my psychoanalytical pay grade. But I can only say that when Mistress’s fires are being stoked by the talents of someone in addition to just little old me, she becomes even hotter than her usual, extraordinary hotness. And that makes me even hotter for her. It’s like spraying a bit more lighter fluid on some already glowing coals. Wooosh!
Maybe someday we will get over this condition, but what’s the rush.
So by Thursday evening, when Mistress returned home from her introductory “date”, me still locked away in my cage, I was pretty desperate for my opportunity to worship her.
She arrived home around 7 pm in a black wrap dress, cut in a way to show lots of those enticing legs in their black tights and boots.
Mistress settled onto the bed, with that “cat that ate the canary” look. Things must have gone well, I surmised.
I knelt, and helped Mistress remove her boots, taking her fragrant toes into my mouth, massaging them with my fingers, then working my way up her thighs.
When I pulled her tights down, just low enough to slide my head between her thighs, I could tell Mistress was already quite aroused. I had to wonder how long that had been going on. Hmmm.
Mistress squirmed hard against my mouth, and soon came with a series of moans, and bucks against my probing tongue. It seemed like a series of satisfying quakes before she gently pushed my head away.
“Enough Slave”, she said with a loving smile, rubbing her fingers through my hair. A contented Mistress is my prime directive.
“Looks like you will have to wait until after dinner though…”
Her fingers reached down to settle on the hard contours of my steel cage.
“Let’s just leave this on for a while, until I am ready for you.”
When the phone rings here in the heartland at 5:30 am you know its going to be a robo call from the smarmy local school superintendent, letting us know that something is amiss. Yesterday, she let me know in her best insider’s voice that it was a snow day for the sullen teens. They could sleep in. That gave me a little extra time to finish up my faux expose on Mick and Molly’s Super Bowl adventures. Maybe next year, football fans!
I had forgotten to bring the little steel ring downstairs when I crept out of the bedroom, laptop under my arm, trying not to disturb Mistress. So when I came back p to bed to crawl in next to Mistress, her groping fingers discovered something was amiss.
“No ring, Slave?”
I gave my excuses. She snorted in disapproval at my forgetfulness.
“Lame, Slave. Very lame. I like what that ring does to my cock in the morning.”
But I was allowed to worship nonetheless, buried under the covers as she giggled over my work product – though I am not sure she got the part about our side bet on the Who’s play list.
Then Mistress indulged me by letting me take her with my hard, but un-ringed cock. Truth be told, while it makes it ever so harder to come when the tight steel ring grips my swollen balls, the extra effort is rewarded with a very devastating explosion when I cross into no man’s land and obtain Mistress’s permission.
After my shower, I put on my back-up cage, the CB3000 for those of you looking for product placements. Mistress seemed happy as always to close the little padlock, securing her cock away for the day.
Mistress’s business meeting was canceled due to the “white death” falling from the sky, so she worked from home, while her Slave slogged down the snow covered interstate. She did send me a sultry photo of her in bed, taken with her laptop camera, just to remind me of what I was missing.
When I returned home around 5 pm, she allowed me to kneel and worship her. I was happy to slide her tightly fitting exercise pants down those muscular legs, then bury my face between her legs. She lay back to enjoy my attention. And after she came with some soft little moans as I sucked her clit through my teeth, we relaxed on the bed, shuffling through the Times and Journal like a contented married couple.
But there was snow to shovel. Wet heavy snow. I suited and booted up, and took my time. This would be my exercise for the day, and it provided plenty of cardio – effort. When I came back upstairs, Mistress and I both napped a bit before throwing together a late dinner for the teens.
After adjourning to bed, we lazed about some more, watching yet another episode of Damages on our little screen. No sex but compelling characters.
When our show ended, the lights went out. Slave was a bit tired and lazy, but certainly wanted to take his pleasure from Mistress with Abstinence Day on the horizon.
We turned off the lights, and clung to one another, kissing deeply, my thigh pressed between Mistress’s leg, my hand drifting back over her ass to poke into her little brown hole, teasing her a bit in a way that made her hump against me all the harder.
I could sense her breathing tempo accelerate. A good tell that Mistress is getting hotter and hotter. To take her to that first orgasm, I slid my other hand between her legs. With fingers working her from front and back I soon had Mistress sliding over the edge, burying her head in Slave’s chest with little gasps of pleasure.
Mistress worked my cock a bit more, and then gave me permission to climb on board. It turned out to be a long, slow pleasurable session, with Slave getting more and more frustrated as I came so close, only to be held back a bit by diminished energy. I guess it’s what happens when a 59 year old has as much sex as I am allowed. And shovels snow too.
Of course, Mistress was amused. By now she had enjoyed several orgasms, while I was doing all the work.
“Frustrated, Slave?”
Yes, Mistress.”
I stopped for a moment, to take off my T-shirt.
Mistress took a brief break too, climbing from the bed.
“Keep it hard, Slave.”
I used my hand to follow her directive.
When she lay back down next to me, she cupped my balls with her soft, knowing fingers, and told me to keep going.
“Maybe I will have you come this way, Slave.”
I kept working with my hand on a desperate cock. Close.
“Or maybe I will make you watch me masturbate myself. Yes, that’s what I will do…”
Sadly, she moved her hands away from my aching balls, and to herself, laying back, working her hands between her spread legs.
The sight of Mistress pleasuring herself that way has always been a turn on for me….she knows what she’s doing and there are lessons to be learned.
She worked at herself hard, insistently, throwing her head back against the pillow, eyes scrunched tightly closed.
After a few moments, Mistress had one of those shattering explosions that bring sobs from her chest, tears streaming down her face.
I wanted to hold and comfort her. To kiss those tears away.
But I wanted to fuck her even more.
She gave me permission. My energy restored, my imagination inspired, I was soon begging for permission to come.
Now it’s morning, another snow day according to my private robo – caller. I did remember my ring this morning. Mistress will be pleased.
Mick is a football fan. And that means suffering through the hype of the Super Bowl year after year. I am old enough to have watched at least a chunk of all of them, going back to the days of Bart Starr, Len Dawson and Joe Namath.
Of course, the venue and the company have changed over the years. College dorm rooms; Friends’ homes; A Hotel room in the Big Apple one year, when the Redskins were still a politically correct and competitive team; our living rooms on four or five different houses.
Molly is no football fan. I have pictures of her at my alma mater’s stadium (a college football icon fallen on hard times) reading a book. At NFL games she has nodded off on my shoulder, making it hard for old Mick to follow the action when the drunks in front refuse to sit down on 3rd down.
But here’s a story about a special Stupor bowl, Mick and Molly’s first after we signed our contract.
“Can’t believe we are home alone on a Sunday evening. Wasn’t it nice for grandma to have the girls over for dinner and to watch the game…just think if the trouble we can make in an empty house, Slave.”
“Uhhh, yes Mistress. But we are going to watch the game, right?”
“Is that your priority, Slave.”
Mistress was obviously disappointed. Slave was not sufficiently focused on pleasing her.
After some lengthy negotiations (yes, I know fellow Slaves, attempting to negotiate with your Mistress is a violation of a prime directive of D/s), we settled on some rules for watching the big game:
1)If Slave wanted to watch the game, he would be naked, locked in his cage throughout.
2)Slave would prepare dinner, assure Mistress’s comfort at all times, and sit at her feet when not fetching her food or beverages.
3)Mistress would pick her “team”. (In this case she picked the Saints, for all the obvious reasons, including the fact that Mick and Molly have had some very hot sex in the French Quarter over the years, and sex is hardly on Nap-town’s calling card).
4)When her team scored, Slave would take all steps necessary to give Mistress a suitable orgasm.
5)When the other team scored, Mistress would use her wooden shoe horn to punish Slave, with the number of strokes matching the accumulated score for the opposing team.
There were some obscure side bets on the Who’s play-list. As an example of they played a chunk of “Love, Reign O’er Me” from Quadrophenia, the cage would come off, the TV would be shut down, and Mistress and Molly would revert to role playing involving a high, semi-naked Co-Ed who stumbles into her boyfriend’s roommates bed by mistake. (This apparently was based on an unfulfilled fantasy from the early 70’s, when Mick was a draft card burner and Molly was in 6th grade).
Kids out the door, we settled in for the kick-off.
I assured that Mistress’s wine glass was full.
She had on a cozy nighty and some smokey black stockings. No undies blocked access for what she hoped would be her frequent reward as the Saints lit up the scoreboard.
Sadly, the first two scores were by the Colts.
When their opening drive sputtered, I was grateful that my bottom would only suffer three strokes as a result of a Naptown field goal. Mistress had me lean over a side table and laid into me, adding a fourth stroke to compensate for her building frustration. After all, it had not been since morning, when Mistress had to “suffer” through a session with our Magic Wand.
“I thought the Saints had some type of high flying offense, Slave.”
We settled down again, but after A Saints receiver spoiled a drive by letting a 3rd down pass slip through his buttered fingers, the Colts were on the move again.
This time a touchdown. Ouch. 10 times ouch.
By now sitting at Mistress’s feet was getting a little dicey, as Slave squirmed his sore bottom on the carpet.
Fortunately for Slave’s welted bottom, the tide began to turn.
The Saints came back with a field goal.
Mistress settled back into the couch and I buried my head between her legs. She was already wet and ready for me. Was it those dorky “Go Daddy” ads, or the building anticipation that sooner or later Drew Brees would have his way with the crafty Colts cornerbacks? Mistress took her time to allow my face and tongue to build her to a proper explosion. It was well worth missing a few Budweiser commercials and the faltering Colt offense’s next drive.
After the Saints’ kicker made another long field goal before the half ended, I was back on my knees, and Mistress was feeling much better about her concession to her Slave’s desire to watch the game.
At half time I served up some of my copyrighted Green Chili Stew, and we enjoyed the Who’s truncated set. Pete and Roger looked more like aging history professors who could no longer persuade their female students to meet after class for a pint, than rock stars. But it was nice to be reminded not to be fooled again. I keep forgetting.
I was hoping for a Colts shutout in the 2nd half. When the Saints came up with that on-side kick as the half began, I knew my butt had dodged a bullet. You don’t want to set Peyton Manning up at the 50 yard line.
When the Saints took the ball to the end zone on that first drive, Mistress elected my tongue for desert.
Sadly, the Colts were not done yet. Another Manning TD pass to that guy from Haiti. Mistress made me lean over our kitchen counter and take 17 hard strokes. Double ouch.
“You really must like football, Slave.”
“This may cure me Mistress.”
“Well if they score again, you can elect to turn it off, and come to bed with me.”
Was Mistress getting tired of my tongue? Longing for the hard tool that was by now straining against the harder steel cage?
As the clock ticked down and the Colts moved into position for a TD to tie the game, I was considering my options.
Did I want to risk 24 more strokes? My butt was fully tenderized already.
Or should I turn off the TV, take Mistress to bed and Use my unlocked cock on her.
But my inner football fan geek could not pass up the chance to watch what might have been the first Super Bowl OT.
Luckily for my bottom, Manning tossed that devastating interception, putting the game out of reach.
“It’s over, Mistress. Your Saints are gonna win.”
I switched off the TV, calculating that the chances of a Colts’ comeback from 14 down with 3 minutes to go was very, very low. Plus why risk 24 strokes if the Saints gave up a garbage TD in the final seconds?
But Mistress was due some attention from that last TD, and took her final orgasm upstairs in our bed, the old fashioned way.
“I could become a football fan yet, Slave.”
Hmmm. That might not be a good thing. Not sure my bottom could handle a high scoring shootout. Maybe it’s good the season is finally over.
(OK, so this was an early April Fool entry. I made it up, but for the Green Chili Stew. We had family and friends over to watch the game. In 100 years will Super Sunday be the new Christmas? Don’t tell Jim O’Reilly I suggested that might be so).
As Mistress and Slave lay on my office floor yesterday afternoon, pants, tights, boots strewn around us, catching our breaths, my colleagues chatting on the other side of my unlocked door, I tried to reconstruct how this craziness had happened. In retrospect, it was a confluence of events that led to Mistress and Slave fucking like demons possessed in the staid confines of my corner office.
Event One: Yesterday the ring of my cock cage just did not want to stay on. I had it tightly in place shortly after I woke, but somehow the cold weather caused my two tender balls to sneak back through the hard steel ring into their refuge as I sat working on my homework. Was it because ‘Nilla had failed to post the type of story that gets my blood flowing over my cappuccino in the morning? I do rely on her for some inspiration, as an alternative to say, the Wall St. Journal. (If anything would make one’s equipment duck and cover it would be the Journal).
Event Two: I polished off my morning homework just in time to wake the teens and join Mistress in bed, where she was waking from her long night’s sleep. We followed our morning ritual: her reading while I worshipped, then she allowed me to take her to our mutual pleasure. When I explained my “ring emergency”, she must have been still on a post-orgasmic high.
“You can pass on the cage today, Slave. I may want to have access to your cock when I visit this afternoon.”
Hmmm. Of course, I gladly accepted this boon.
Event Three: Later that morning, my gmail inbox delivered a little gift from ‘Nilla: a cunning and very hot story derived from the adventures of Mick and Molly, featuring a submissive Molly in an incendiary red dress, an arrogant Dom marching her off to meet her “fate”, and a frustrated, cuckolded Mick, aching inside his cage. Yum. That story definitely raised the temperature in my office.
Event Four: Mistress arrived after a lunch engagement with a very important man, dressed as our reader(s) have come to expect: black dress down to mid-thigh, just tight enough to display her luscious curves, black tights, black boots. After we talked about her lunch meeting, I flipped open my laptop to show her ‘Nilla’s story. Her well muscled thighs squirmed a bit in my desk chair as she worked through the tale.
The stage had been set.
As Mistress read, I pushed the blue upholstered chair against my door (no, it doesn’t have a lock). When she stood, I pulled her into a tight embrace. Both of us seemed unusually needy. As we kissed my fingers found their way between her legs. Already damp. Mistress squirmed in that delightful way against my hand.
I steered Mistress toward the door, not breaking that embrace. Helping her sit, I fell to my knees, burying my face between her legs as her hands clenched the hair at the back of my head. Before pealing back her tights I took some time drawing her juices through their sheer fabric. I like the way Mistress pumps herself ever so gently against my mouth, trying to contain her need.
When it was time to slide her tights down to give me better access to those damp folds, Mistress urged me to take off her boots. I unzipped them, and slid them off, spending a few moments massaging and kissing her feet. Yeah, they were a little stinky, but very sensuous as her toes squirmed between my teeth.
Moving my mouth up her legs to the juncture of her thighs, I feasted on her, nearly pulling her out of the chair as I found that special place with my sucking lips. Mistress had to take care not to bang her head against my office door as she came for me.
Once she was satisfied, she directed me to stand.
“Aren’t you glad you don’t have your cage on today, Slave”, she said, as she unfastened my belt, unzipped me and let my pants fall to my ankles.
“Oh, yes, Mistress.”
She took me in her hands, then her mouth, her lips and tongue slowly building me to a point of no return.
Then she stopped.
“Where do you want to fuck me, Slave?”
We considered the option of bending her over my desk. But it was too messy with all those papers strewn about.
We settled on the floor, where I spread a firm logo blanket leftover from some silly promotion. Useful for office sex though.
I helped Mistress to the floor and joined her. As we could hear my colleagues pass by outside the door I slid on top and inside her. Oh… so …nice.
There is something about floor sex….no give at all. Mistress’s body so soft and receptive, but held firmly in place by the hard floor. There we were: My dress shirt and tie still on. Her dress hiked above her hips. Moving against one another with determination, knowing that this needs to be a quicky before some “helpful” assistant decides she has to talk right now about an “important” development.
“What would they think?”
Mistress asks between her little gasps of delight, referring to the chatting minions on the other side of my door.
“Well at least you are my wife. It’s not like I am harassing an employee. The worst they can say is, ‘Mick must really like that hot wife.’”
We giggle.
Not long after that, Slave explodes, collapsing next to Mistress on my office floor. We do not linger, but reluctantly reassemble our grown up costumes. Mistress was soon polished and ready for her next meeting. Slave needed a nap.
On Wednesday, Slave spent a very long Abstinence Day caged up, driving to and from our flat state capital for some pretty dreary meetings. It was the first time I had taken my new, industrial strength cage on a road trip. There was something odd, disturbing and also soothing to know that Mistress had that little key tucked away, a 2 hour drive away.
It also brought to mind the old “Mom’s tale” about making sure you wear clean underwear in case you get in an accident. Don’t even want to thing how a “first responder” would react to that device.
Wearing the steel cage on a road trip, and sitting all day at a meeting, is not exactly painful. None of the pinching of tender flesh or the pulling of pubic hair that makes one squirm with the CB6000. But that tight 1 7/8” steel ring that gathers me up and contains my cock and balls can bind a bit, and after 2 hours in the car there is a dull ache down there. Walking around and stretching helps. But that tight grip is a constant reminder of my Slavish status, which is surely what Mistress intends when she texts or phones and slyly asks me “how’s the cage, Slave?”
By the time I dragged my worn and sorry self into the house at 10 pm that night, Mistress was relaxing in bed and her Slave was hardly feisty. And of course it was abstinence day. In my “sorry for myself” frame of mind, I forgot to offer to worship until Mistress had kindly unlocked me and I had stripped for bed. She was merciful though, and there was no punishment for my slight. Nor did she seem in need of pleasuring. (sadly, she had picked up the cold I had suffered through over the weekend). So it was one of those rare days that both Slave and Mistress “took a pass” (unless there is something Mistress was holding back?).
By the next morning my energy level was restored, and the full effect of Abstinence Day took me to a very horny place. I had squished myself through the steel ring while things were warm and loose when I woke up, so by the time Mistress called for me, my cock was already semi-hard (reading one of ‘Nilla’s little vignettes also helped).
I did not need much encouragement to dive between Mistress’s legs and taste what I had missed the day before. And it seemed she had missed me, because she was soon pressing her delicious parts to my devouring lips, and coming for me with a satisfied moan. I then asked permission to enter. Mistress seemed gratified that I needed no help at all to provide the “good old” cock she has come to value. The tight grip of the ring made me all the harder, and requires just a tad more enthusiasm on my part to reach my own personal goal. Mistress was moaning her gratitude for my efforts, but I pulled back just a bit to make room for my fingers to slide against her clit. Timing is everything in life and sex, and I seemed to have timed this little assault just right. Soon Mistress was throwing her head back and shuddering with delight. Mission accomplished, I focused on my own pleasure and came (after asking permission of course) with a startling ferocity in several waves of release. Abstinence Day has slid by without too much frustration, but this was a reminder of the energy (and fluids) that had been held in reserve.
Soon I was off to work, caged away again, but with a bit of a bounce in my step.
The sun actually came up in River City on Thursday, and the thermometer hit 45. After a week below freezing, it seemed like Spring had arrived. So I headed home a bit early for a bike ride with Mistress. Our first in more than a month. Energizing.
As we rode we talked about Mistress’s on again, off again quest for a part time Dom sufficiently imaginative and engaging to meet Mistress’ exacting standards. It is a needle in the haystack search for the right person to press some of the un-pressed buttons that Mistress has discovered. But her Slave’s sense is that she needs and deserves a bit of extra attention. And the quest itself is something that seems to energize things between our sheets.
Back at home, we had the house to ourselves. The teens were already headed to the City on the Lake for that big family wedding with grandma. And Molly and Mick were determined to use that opportunity.
Mistress puttered about for a while, collecting her adornments for her role in the wedding of the decade (well at least so far). She instructed Slave to insert his little white probe and wait for her patiently, which I was happy to do. Her packing done, Mistress slid her naked body into bed next to mine. My warm up act was some time with lips and tongue between Mistress’s legs, making sure she was wet and ready for Act II.
When I turned away, Mistress expressed her disapproval for the interruption of her pleasure. But her eyes lit up when I extracted our Hitachi “power tool” from under the bed, all plugged in and ready for action.
This is a wonderful toy for a Slave to use on his Mistress. So efficient. So potentially frustrating. Mistress complained as I used it to bring her oh so close, then back away. Much fun to hear that frustration that Mistress likes to squeeze from me now and again.
“What’s wrong, Mistress?” I asked, as she grunted, when I slid the device everywhere but exactly onto the spot that would bring her frustration to an end. “Am I doing this wrong?”
“You know what you are doing, Slave. You know where it needs to go….”
I just laughed and asked her to consider how frustrating it would be for some Dom to have her tied down and play with this for the very purpose of making her beg for release. That seemed to make Mistress all the more frustrated.
I turned the powerful device off long enough to mount the blue plastic attachment designed to slide inside Mistress and find her little G-spot. This was our maiden voyage with this devious blue accessory. It seems very thick, but Mistress was more than lubricated enough to accommodate it. She writhed in frustration as I slowly pressed it into her, but held back the critical pressure that would take her where by now she was desperate to be.
At that point cuffs or rope would have been necessary to prevent her from taking matters into her own hands. With nothing to restrain her, she reached down, covered my hands with hers, and pulled the Hitachi hard against herself. Her “self-help” led to a dramatic minute or two of moaning, writhing, bucking and gyrating that left Mistress in a state of well deserved bliss. Fortunately, she did not seem to resent my acts of rebellion and rewarded me with her permission to replace that hard plastic attachment with my own firm, fleshy tool. I was more than happy to take my reward.
Now its morning, and we are headed to the Windy City. Will report on out adventures as the far too detailed wedding schedule allows.
You gave me an incomplete on my homework yesterday because we were scrambling to help the surly teens with their History exams. It was good to refresh my knowledge about William Henry Harrison’s brief 30 day term, John Tyler’s “Manifest Destiny”, and the odd alliance between Andrew Jackson and Martin Van Buren (the guy on your right). But now back to the good stuff.
My Monday started with a security breach: that larger ring I had been using on my cage sure was more comfortable, but the cold weather created a problem. Cold causes my balls to seek the shelter in that little body cavity above. Somehow my left ball was able to squeeze through the little extra space created by the somewhat larger ring. (Hard to tell if this is because it was cold when I put on the cage, or the problem occurred as I headed to work.) In any event, by mid-morning the cage you had locked on me came loose. I had the sad task of informing you via phone.
You were mercifully patient with me, but reminded me that it was past time to switch to the slightly smaller ring that arrived with our “power tool” last week.
When I got home you spared me the punishment I probably deserved, and we went for a vigorous bike ride in the twilight of a day that had turned surprisingly warm and sunny by afternoon. As we rode we talked about the intriguing overture you had received from a potential suitor, who seems very direct and business like in his plans for you. This is a call only Mistress can make, based on her desires and comfort level.
By the time we got home, the intimacy and frankness of our conversation about this potential adventure – whether it was a good idea or a really bad one – had us definitely in the mood for some physical intimacy too. So we deferred dinner and exam prep a bit for some worship time with my tongue and lips, before you allowed me to enter you and spend some time parked deep inside, slowly bringing each of us to the point of release.
The rest of the evening I spent showing our oldest surly her father’s well worn exam prep technique of outlining every seemingly important factoid for her history test. It made me wonder why I had not done that before with her (probably because she would not give me the time of day, but now was in panic mode over this AP test). Truth be told, it was fun to spend some time with her talking about the Whig Party and the Kings George. Shame we did not do this sooner.
I was spent when I hit bed around 11 pm, after all that outlining, and you were beginning to go to sleep So we passed on our typical night time activities – a rarity for us these days.
Tuesday morning I was up very early (needed to outline everything from the Constitutional Convention to the fall of Fort Sumter before our little Princess went to school). I did that outline rather than my daily homework for you. It made me wonder what Martin Van Buren would have put in his sex blog, if only he had one.( Did you know he was rumored to be the illigetimate son of Aaron Burr?)
By around 7 a.m., when you called me to come attend to my morning duties, I had been up a few hours. And I was happy to set aside thoughts of John Calhoun’s closet support for Nullification to nullify the desire for you that had cropped up since the prior evening. Why it had been almost 12 hours since our last encounter! The horror!
Before I got up so early, I watched you sleeping in bed for a while. You were lying on your back, hands over your head, wrists crossed, as if you were tied there by some dream Dom having his way with you. You seemed very comfortable and content. Maybe in your dreams you were mulling over the choices that had been presented to you during a phone call the afternoon before. Or maybe it was just a coincidence.
Now you were awake (barely) and I was back in bed with you, head between your strong thighs, under the covers. As I sucked methodically on your clit, you seemed to have a series of orgasms, hips bucking against my mouth, that went on for several minutes. You were a very responsive Mistress for so early in the morning.
About 50 minutes later, my cage with the new ring tightly in place, I kissed you goodbye in the kitchen. You were wearing that silky beige robe that barely covers your hips. I had not planned any elaborate assault, but slid my hands through your mound to see if I could collect some juices that would be a tease through the day, a fragrant reminder of you on my fingers.
I found you moist to the touch. And as my fingers lingered there, stroking gently, but not really with a purpose, you came for me with a little gasp and shudder, your head resting gently against my shoulder. It’s very gratifying that a Slave can feel that sort of response from his Mistress.
I had to walk down to the neighborhood garage, to pick up my car. The walk is only about ¼ mile, but the new ring was pinching at me with a cruel persistence. On the drive downtown, I texted “tight” to share my discomfort. You responded “good, Slave.” I suppose this was the punishment that I deserved for the prior security breach. And that reminder of your control over me made the cage squeeze a bit tighter.
Later on my commute you called, and I even suggested you might consider bringing the key for the cage downtown on your visit later in the day. You said you would keep an open mind, that you did not want to do any permanent damage to an important tool. But as the day progressed, and I made some adjustments the pain subsided to its normal reminder that my balls and cock are under lock and key. Not so bad.
But when you stopped by the office, and had me kneel to worship you, first through your black tights, then peeled away so I could properly pleasure you, the restraining cage tightened to a painful degree. You do seem to delight when I share this little detail.
Our evening was again devoted to exam prep. Though we did get time in bed together before dinner. Our routine requires me to kneel and worship with my mouth before you decide whether to release me from the cage. And with the new, tighter ring, the cage needed to be taken off. But we took our time, with you sharing some details about further communications with your suitor (let’s call him “Sir” to the extent we mention him here), and those details seemed to heighten your arousal and my frustration. That cage really needed to be taken off by the time you had your fill of my tongue, Mistress.
And of course you finally did unlock me, and we had a delicious encounter then, and again around 11 pm, after the studying was done.
I think I imposed on you that last time. You were tired. Of course, so was I. But the thought of abstinence day today made me a little insistent. On such occasions you are an indulgent Mistress. I am very fortunate.
You can imagine why Slave might have been subliminally drawn to this carton of eggs the other day at our local organic grocery store. Mistress has been pretty lenient on her Slave's cage time of late, and we didn't even pack one for our trip out west.
"It's kind of hot, Slave.....don't you think?"
"I guess that would be one way for him to get that fur grown back, wouldn't it, Mistress?"
