Showing posts with label tickling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tickling. Show all posts

Monday, October 25, 2010

Mistress's Day of Denial

Some of you were snickering when I reported on last Sunday’s “Switch” activities, when I decided to overload Mistress with a cornucopia of orgasms.

I could hear you. “Wow, that sure was tough on her, Mick.”

So this week, with prompting from our Western Correspondent – who finally earned his lofty monthly retainer and expense check – we tried a completely different approach.

When I came upstairs to let Mistress read the blog, and learn about her sentence, she was one step ahead of me.

“I saw that email from M, Slave…. You aren’t really going to do those things are you?”



She was already resorting to manipulation. Wheedling to get her way. It wouldn’t surprise me if she had already snuck one in under the wire, once she learned of her “sentence”

“And why not, Mistress. Doesn’t it turn you on to have M calling the shots, denying you through his minion here in River City?”

“Well….”

My finger was slowly circling her moist clit, where my tongue had explored while she read the blog. Her hips were already squirmy.

“I suppose it does Slave…”

I went to work at that point.

Her hands were bound in those little red cuffs, then tied off, together at the top of the bed.

Her ankles were tied off to the corners with some long soft strips torn from a beach towel, spreading her legs wide.

You can see her in the photo, the feather ‘Nilla recommended ready for action.

She looked delicious. And the aroma of molten cunt was already filling our room.

As M suggested, she got a good spanking first. Her bottom glowed red. She whined a bit, but took her medicine well.

I suppose she knew it was far better than what was to come.

Then She was tickled.

The feather has a nice squirmy effect on her, particularly when the tip pokes and probes between her juicy folds. Her hips strained against her bindings, in a futile attempt to evade.

“Why don’t you just let me come, Slave….. we don’t have to tell M….”

Oh, the Slave conspiracy theme. I was not falling for it.

“But that would be wrong, Mistress….”

I fed her my cock, kneeling on the bed to allow her access. She did an excellent job of bringing it to full dimensions.

Then I slid onto her back. She was so wet and eager that I found my mark immediately, sliding deep inside. But taking it slow and easy to keep Mistress on the edge.

I’ll give her credit. I know she was struggling to resist coming as I fucked her from behind. Usually the friction of her clit against the bed, and the pumping from my hard cock makes it easy for her to tip over the edge. Her labored breathing told me how hard she was working at staying under control.

“Good girl, Mistress.”

I was getting a little close to the edge myself, so slid out and picked up Mistress’s trusty Hitachi, lying next to the bed.

She saw what I was doing.

“That is completely unfair, Slave…..”

I laughed at her trepidation.

“Oh Mistress….. suck it up…..”

I learned that the Hitachi is not just a one trick pony. It also makes a lovely tickling implement, if slid along the soles of a restrained slut’s feet, or under her arms. Lots of struggling and squirming ensued, making our old wooden bed groan.

But when I slid it under those squirming hips, letting it come into contact with her sopping folds it was a different song that Mistress sang.

Her hips were doing their best to pull away, but there was very little range of motion for her.

“You’ve really got to let me come, Slave…. Or take that thing away. I really can’t take it anymore without coming.”

I decided to show her mercy. The Hitachi was parked. Her legs were untied. I rolled her over.

Then I fucked her.

I was not on denial, after all. I made sure I took it slow and easy until I was ready to come. And I did ask for permission. It’s hard to break that habit.

I almost felt guilty taking my own pleasure while Mistress was denied hers’.

Almost.

“You really are doing this, Slave?”

I think she thought M and I were just pulling her leg. That I would drag things out but ultimately relent.

“Let’s go for a bike ride, Mistress, that will distract you from your plight”

We went biking. When we got home I was off to do some maintenance at a rental property we own closer to downtown. But first I had some orders to fulfill.

“Come here Mistress….”

I was sitting on the bed.

“And pull those riding shorts down to your knees.”

She gave me the “you’ve got to be kidding me look”.

But she was a good little slut, and complied. Maybe she thought I would relent.

Instead, I pulled her over my lap for that nice bare bottom spanking M had prescribed for her. She does squirm nicely.

And when I asked her to spread those delicious thighs a bit, to allow more access, she greedily complied.

But when my fingers began to do what they have been trained to do, she began to object.

“You’re driving me crazy, Slave….. why don’t you just let me come.”

“But it’s not even noon, Mistress….. just think of our friends who have had to endure so much more denial that a mere few hours…..”

“But they don’t have someone teasing and fucking them when they are on denial, do they?”

She had a point. So I stopped my fingering of her aromatic folds, and let her off the hook.

Later in the day, she lay next to me on the couch as I read the Times and watched our miserable NFL team.

She had not gone the multiple layers of riding shorts root. Instead she elected the naked cunt under black cotton dress route. That gave me easy access to finger and taunt her every ten minutes or so.

“You know you’re driving me crazy, don’t you Slave….”

“But you taste so good, Mistress,” I said, as I licked her juices from my fingers.

And she does have a lovely pout.

Unfortunately, dear readers, my deadline has approached. Time for me to go upstairs and wake Mistress…..So I will leave you waiting for the conclusion of this little tale of frustration.

Until tomorrow, Mick

Monday, October 11, 2010

Slave Blinks

It turns out Mistress is quite ticklish.

There she was bound spread eagled on our bed. Not quite stretched out enough though. Because when she began to squirm – as the tip of the feather ran across the sole of her foot, or along the inside of her strong arms – she was able to pull away just a it stretching the fabric of the long beach towel strips that bound her legs to the bed.

There was no manic laughing though. She was sensitive the the sullen wisdom toothless teen, stalking the hallways, a little buzzed on the percocet that the dentist had given her to help with the pain. No need to make her think her mother was in peril.

Just lots of squirming.

I fed her my cock, to give her a little break.

Fucked her a bit, reminding her that M’s recommendation for Sunday was that she be teased but not allowed to come until later in the day.

She made nice little moaning sounds as my Work-a-day cock slid effortlessly into her, her limbs stretched so wide.

Mistress does helpless well.

“I need to focus Slave, when I’m not allowed to come. It’s a whole different mindset.”

Yes, Mistress. Been there. And (not) Done that.

When it seemed I had taken that liberty as far as seemed fair and responsible to her, I slid out, and reached for the feather again.

It turns about that with a little extra sexual tension built up, Mistress is parituclarly sensitive when the tip of a feather is slowly dragged through that little crease in her folds.

Her hips jerked, she pulled at her leg bindings, making the bed literally graon along with her. Suddenly she was bucking for all she was worth.

“Did you just come, Mistress?”

It seemed like it to me….

“No, Slave…. That was just…. Well…. Frustrating.”

I was not so sure that she hadn’t snuck one in on me, But I took her at her word.

Then reached for the Hitachi.

“You’re not using that are you, Slave.”

The sweet indignation in her voice was amusing.

“Of course. That’s what M suggested. He wanted me to tease you with the feather that ‘Nilla suggested, then tease some more with the Hitachi. But not let you come…”

“He didn’t!”

“Oh yes…. Remember his text “I threw you under the bus today, Slave?” or something like that. You read it to me.”

Somehow Mistress had missed that part. For shame. The anticipation would have haunted her for a day or more.

The Hitachi was on low. Mistress’s inflamed little clit responded as you might expect.

It was the first time Mistress begged me to stop, trying her best to pull away and avoid it’s inevitable toll.

“You can’t do that anymore, Slave….. not if you expect me to not come.”

Was that a double or triple negative. I guess that’s what happens when the Hitachi combines with an orgasm quarantine.

She was so desperate and clever that she somehow got her legs to close, muscles straining better than any Nuatilus machine might require from her.

But I foxed her by sliding the Hitachi between her thighs from below, worming it back into place until it was pressed just so between those molten lips.

“Oh god, Slave…..can’t I please come .”

That’s when I broke. The thought of her waiting all day for it, while I was at the football game just seemed too much. I would have to hide the Hitachi. No doubt M would be in touch, importuning her to come for him.

Plus, at bottom (pun intended, ‘Nilla and Aisha) I am a softy. Mistress need was there to be filled, and it was harder (maybe) on me than on her not to fill it.

“OK, Mistress, I will consider your request …. But I want to hear begging….”

And, of course, she begged. There were “please, Slave, can I come’s” out the whazoo. Lots of whimpering. Much squirming as I let her sit on the brink for a minute or so.

I love that sound of desperation in Mistress’s voice.

Finally I relented.

“Yes, Mistress, you may come….”

With the caution flag down, Mistress wound herself up around the churning head of our power tool, her body taking the plunge as her hips rose off the bed.

I was glad I had the music on, to bury those choice and delicious sounds she made.

And I forced another, deeper one from her before mounting her again for my own reward – a process that I was in no mood to rush.

Afterwards, once Mistress was unbound, I wondered if our readers would be disappointed – particularly M.

AS it turns out, while Mistress made a brief trip to the grocery, he called to get an update.

“He wanted to know how Switch day went, Slave?”

“I’m sure he was curious about how his Slave handled all that “torture” Mistress. But was he disappointed that I let you come?”

“I don’t think he was surprised, Slave. I told him that he would probably have relented under the circumstances too.”

“And what did he say to that, Mistress?”

“He said, probably true if it was the first time we were together. Or had not seen each other in months. But not if he got to have sex with me every day!”

Sorry big guy. You had to be here!