Yesterday was another day of lovely sex and open conversation, Mistress. It was nice to get off the semi-abstinence wagon and have some long, hard fucks with you. I particularly enjoyed last night, when you allowed me to take you from behind. You seemed to come very hard as I invoked the Uber E, and your latent desire that he take control of you in that way.
But I thought it would be nice to step back and generate for whatever readers there are out there in blogland the story about how we decided to sign a contract that involves my total surrender to your control.
Of course, we have always had great sex. Before we were married we had our special love nest, a studio in our cozy downtown equipped with only a few pieces of furniture, including a futon bed. You were so young then – 23, 24? I almost felt guilty taking advantage of you there, weekday afternoons, or an occasional Sunday morning when we told our spouses that we had work to do. (Bad, very Bad).
Frequently our games involved you tied to the futon, spread for me, as I licked and fucked you to our hearts’ content. At first you probably thought I was a bit strange, but seemed to relish those times. But there was no real talk of submission. Once the ropes were untied, we were back to a more conventional affair, with me at an age and level of boring maturity closer to father than contemporary. I always had trouble figuring out what you saw in me, but was flattered and delighted to have you at my side.
And there were some nice field trips where we went slightly beyond the edge of sex ordinaire. I can remember that trip to the B & B in Tennessee, a hike, you tied to a tree, me on my knees pleasuring you. Or walking the streets of D.C., your hands cuffed behind you under your raincoat, bottom still sore from a nice spanking with a wooden hairbrush.
Again, these were only little detours, not any committed power exchange involving a commitment to submit. And lets face it, you are not really the submissive type.
As years passed, kids were born and raised and your career blossomed, we spent less time on these types of activities. Great sex. Frequent and robust. But mostly vanilla.
We both acknowledge that things deteriorated a bit between us in the years when we spent too many working days away from one another. It was a loss of intimacy. Too much of the burden of child rearing on you. Me feeling dissed. Not much fun for either of us. We enjoyed our weekends together. But it was not what either one of us envisioned when we decided to marry in the heat of love and passion all those years ago, with one child in arms and another on the way. I should have begged you to stay but was too proud to beg.
So I fucked up. Did something that betrayed and hurt you. That afternoon when you discovered what was going on we were fortunate that the kids were away. And between your tears and anger and my shame and remorse, we held ourselves together with what brought us together in the first place: extraordinary sex. I can’t recall how many times we did it that night. But it seemed we barely slept. And at some point, in the middle of the night, as I was trying to convince you that I would do whatever it would take to keep you. And you were on top of me, riding my cock, using your fingers on my balls. And you informed me, as you rode me, between our grunts and gasps and moans, that if I would be calling you mistress from then on; and that I was now going to be your slave. (it sends shivers through me now to think about, Mistress). You had tapped into a dormant fantasy of my own, apparently.
And we both came, almost together, exhausted, but knowing we were onto something new that might be the right path after too many years of drifting apart. We had found something that has blossomed over the last 14 months, as I have ceded more and more power to you in this relationship. A burden for you, no doubt. But a blessing for me.
Will finish the rest of this “back story” in my next installment, Mistress.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
The Leather Glove
Dear Mistress,
Monday is the day of the week we try to abstain from conventional intercourse, and we actually stuck to the rules yesterday. The concept originated from the excitement we had those few days a month ago when your doctor suggested that you refrain for a few days. And we did. And we discovered the pleasures and intensity of being forced to find alternative modalities of release. Of course, the inability to fuck for a day makes me want to fuck you all the more. When I woke in the middle of the night it took some monumental will for me not to make a pest of myself. And I know a slave should not be a pest.
After Monday’s homework assignment for you, about our Sunday Switch, I handed you your computer, and assumed my position under the covers, face buried in your cunt. My scribbles must have been particularly inspiring for you, because unlike most mornings, you came while still reading. I was wondering what passage got you over the top, to make sure I plant that seed again.
After you had your share, you put on that leather glove. Its soft texture as you stroke me with it makes me hard almost immediately. But I am still a little self conscious about you making me come that way. Frustrated and desperate, I ultimately offered to help, and as you cupped and fondled my balls with the leather glove, I used my hand on my shaft and was finally released from my torment. But of course, only after begging for your permission.
Soon I was locked in my cage, and you were off too, up the highway for meetings. When I got home you were busy on work. I asked for permission to worship you, kneeling, enjoying the texture of your black tights, before peeling them away for my first taste after so many hours at work.
After a bike ride it was time to fix dinner, then settle in for some TV, me comfortably seated on the floor between your legs rubbing your feet and getting an occasional chance to taste you through those riding tights I like so much. When you grew tired it was time to go upstairs. After I pleasured you with my mouth, you put the glove back on, and although I was instantly hard, it was not easy for me to come that way. So you took a break and announced you were still horny and would masturbate yourself. As I lay next to you, my cock pressed against your side, you used your hand to rub away as I spun a story about you meeting a couple at a bar near our vacation home, taking them home and….well we never got to that part. You came with a rush and some tears, and then it was my turn, and as I used my hand and you used the glove I joined you.
Throughout the day we talked off and on about your decision to disconnect from E., at least for now. I must say that he seems to have treated you shabbily. My sense is that you laid it out there for him, but he turned out to be a “catch and release” artiste, more interested in amateur philosophizing than nurturing and returning the feelings he had brought alive in you. Annoying.
But that clay footed E is different from the Uber E that you and I created in our fantasy life these last few weeks. The character who could made you yearn for a hard spanking and total submission, if only for 24 hours in some hideaway off the beaten path. It will be hard for us to give up that character. Who knows, maybe somewhere inside the real E that Uber E still lives on, just as the closet, submissive housewife oozing pheremones still lives on inside my powerfully attractive and dominant Mistress.
While the “right” thing may be to let Uber E go, it will be very hard for us. So why bother. Nothing wrong with stoking the occasional fantasy, with or without me, that someday Uber E will re-emerge, in the form of a plane ticket to NYC or LA, or an E- vite to some Inn on the Lake in Michigan. Maybe there still will be a time when Uber E pushes you face first against a wall, whispers in your ear about his plans for you, loosens his tie, yanks your wrists behind you and ties them inescapably tight. Or a time when he forces you to your knees to worship his cock. Or pulls you across his lap for a hard spanking with that hairbrush. Or takes you from behind, bent over his desk, skirt hiked up and panties down around your ankles.
Until that time comes, your slave is happy to play the Uber E role to the best of my ability. If I perform poorly, I will have deserve a good punishment.
Monday is the day of the week we try to abstain from conventional intercourse, and we actually stuck to the rules yesterday. The concept originated from the excitement we had those few days a month ago when your doctor suggested that you refrain for a few days. And we did. And we discovered the pleasures and intensity of being forced to find alternative modalities of release. Of course, the inability to fuck for a day makes me want to fuck you all the more. When I woke in the middle of the night it took some monumental will for me not to make a pest of myself. And I know a slave should not be a pest.
After Monday’s homework assignment for you, about our Sunday Switch, I handed you your computer, and assumed my position under the covers, face buried in your cunt. My scribbles must have been particularly inspiring for you, because unlike most mornings, you came while still reading. I was wondering what passage got you over the top, to make sure I plant that seed again.
After you had your share, you put on that leather glove. Its soft texture as you stroke me with it makes me hard almost immediately. But I am still a little self conscious about you making me come that way. Frustrated and desperate, I ultimately offered to help, and as you cupped and fondled my balls with the leather glove, I used my hand on my shaft and was finally released from my torment. But of course, only after begging for your permission.
Soon I was locked in my cage, and you were off too, up the highway for meetings. When I got home you were busy on work. I asked for permission to worship you, kneeling, enjoying the texture of your black tights, before peeling them away for my first taste after so many hours at work.
After a bike ride it was time to fix dinner, then settle in for some TV, me comfortably seated on the floor between your legs rubbing your feet and getting an occasional chance to taste you through those riding tights I like so much. When you grew tired it was time to go upstairs. After I pleasured you with my mouth, you put the glove back on, and although I was instantly hard, it was not easy for me to come that way. So you took a break and announced you were still horny and would masturbate yourself. As I lay next to you, my cock pressed against your side, you used your hand to rub away as I spun a story about you meeting a couple at a bar near our vacation home, taking them home and….well we never got to that part. You came with a rush and some tears, and then it was my turn, and as I used my hand and you used the glove I joined you.
Throughout the day we talked off and on about your decision to disconnect from E., at least for now. I must say that he seems to have treated you shabbily. My sense is that you laid it out there for him, but he turned out to be a “catch and release” artiste, more interested in amateur philosophizing than nurturing and returning the feelings he had brought alive in you. Annoying.
But that clay footed E is different from the Uber E that you and I created in our fantasy life these last few weeks. The character who could made you yearn for a hard spanking and total submission, if only for 24 hours in some hideaway off the beaten path. It will be hard for us to give up that character. Who knows, maybe somewhere inside the real E that Uber E still lives on, just as the closet, submissive housewife oozing pheremones still lives on inside my powerfully attractive and dominant Mistress.
While the “right” thing may be to let Uber E go, it will be very hard for us. So why bother. Nothing wrong with stoking the occasional fantasy, with or without me, that someday Uber E will re-emerge, in the form of a plane ticket to NYC or LA, or an E- vite to some Inn on the Lake in Michigan. Maybe there still will be a time when Uber E pushes you face first against a wall, whispers in your ear about his plans for you, loosens his tie, yanks your wrists behind you and ties them inescapably tight. Or a time when he forces you to your knees to worship his cock. Or pulls you across his lap for a hard spanking with that hairbrush. Or takes you from behind, bent over his desk, skirt hiked up and panties down around your ankles.
Until that time comes, your slave is happy to play the Uber E role to the best of my ability. If I perform poorly, I will have deserve a good punishment.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Our Sunday Morning Switch
Dear Mistress,
As part of our contract, we agreed that on Sunday mornings I could switch roles with you: be the master and use whatever comes into my imagination to make you submit and “suffer” at my diabolical hands. The Sunday Switch has been an interesting experiment, and with a little outside inspiration I believe we have come onto something about your own need, every now and then, to abandon all of that corporate suited control you have to exercise during the week, whether with your clients, or in managing your sometimes recalcitrant slave.
While you have left the mercurial E to stew in his own navel gazing, he did get you intrigued by the notion of a good spanking to enhance your surrender. It’s something we have dabbled in over the years. I used a hairbrush on your bottom years ago in D.C.. We were concerned about how long the red marks would last.
After the cathartic sex of Saturday night, I was not sure how well the switch would work Sunday morning. You and I had both discharged a great deal of sexual energy, and the remnants were strewn around the bedroom Sunday morning. It took us a while to find that other black boot, and your crumpled black tights, still reeking of your arousal.
We read the paper a bit and then I pulled out the red leather cuffs and locked them on your wrists. They were then linked together and I tied them off at the top of the bed, your bottom raised for me with a pillow under your pelvis. You were well positioned for my open palm, and your butt was already doing that involuntary squirm.
At first, you always feign a bit of amusement and indifference when I restrain you like this. Of course, you know you are still the mistress, and I am still the slave. But what I have found is that if I prolong the session and ladle on a sufficient degree of discomfort, and maybe a little fantasy tied in, it takes you to that precious sub-space you need to abandon control for just a while. Doesn’t it?
This morning I used a tie to blindfold you, hoping that it would help you suspend your maintenance of the mistress persona a little more easily. A nice trick that seemed to help get you there more quickly.
I was already hard for you that a.m., after doing my writing assignment on the night before. So it took some discipline of my own to get on with your spanking. I buried my face in your exposed, squirmy butt for a while, reveling in your taste and texture. But I had a mission, and soon I was sitting next to you, applying a firm hand in a way that made you jerk and moan a bit with each blow.
Of course, I intermittently slid my hands between your legs, confirming my suspicion that you were soaking that pillow you were grinding against.
After About 20 minutes, and as your bottom took on a nice red glow, I pulled the covers over you and announced I was going downstairs to make some coffee. I gave you an assignment: to imagine three things that you would like E to do to you. As I left the room, I saw you relax into the bed, your bottom still writhing. I spared you the vibrator I would normally use during these “breaks”, assuming that you were so far along that you would take advantage and come while I was out of the room.
I returned about 10 minutes later , steaming coffee cup in hand, and I pulled back the covers. Your bottom was still red. And I gave it a few more hard spanks with my palm to remind you of my control before picking up the hairbrush that E had promised to use on you. I told you we were switching to the brush for a while, and asked you to recite each of the scenarios I had asked you to imagine.
As you recited them, I applied the brush firmly to your bottom. The scenarios you came up with (between gasps and moans) were as follows, recorded here to remind you:
1. He pulls you forcefully over his knee, hands in your hair, yanks up your dress, pulls down your panties, and spanks you hard until you are sobbing. When his hand slides between your legs, you are forced to call him “Sir”, and beg him for the right to come. And you do.
2. He ties you to the bed, hands over your head, and forces you to suck his cock. You told me how much you enjoyed its taste and how hard it was in your imagination.
3. After you suck him for a while he makes you beg him to fuck you. And you do, and he does. You used a wonderful adjective to describe how that felt when he finally entered you. Can’t recall now. But it was a mindblower in your mind.
As we talked through these scenes, I applied the hairbrush. Your bottom squirmed harder, got even redder, and you jerked against the bed. I knew it was time to give you the mercy that you have always shown this slave.
Still using the brush with my right hand, I applied some of our lubricant to a finger on my left hand and slid it deep into your lovely, writhing ass. You let out a little gasp, and I could feel you clenching my finger for dear life. I slid my little finger between your legs, barely reaching your clit, and began a gentle massage there, all the while applying the brush to your bottom. Within about 2 minutes you began a long desperate, shuddering orgasm which nearly took my breath away. It sent you into a convulsion of sobs and tears. I had helped you find that mental space where you gave up control. A matter of great satisfaction to your slave.
Of course, I was not just going to take a bow. I wanted my taste too. So I mounted you from behind and slowly slid my cock into you. Moving gently at first, I soon was pounding into you and you came one more time for me. Still sobbing.
Now it was time for gentleness, so I helped you turn over, still tied to the bed, and entered again that way, and after a while of some soft and gentle fucking It was me begging for permission and you generously granting it.
It seemed that within about 12 hours we had two of the most memorable sexual experiences of our 20 year collaboration. How is that? Certainly the imaginary, uber E gets an assist on this for helping us re-discover a side of your personality we had let go dormant. And we will continue to work that route in the months to come, with or without him.
I certainly support your decision to disengage for now. He cranked you up and left you alone as he wandered along his own path. Maybe he found Hunter’s torpedo? But my suggestion to you is that before he wandered away he planted some triggers in you mistress. Triggers that will make you yearn from time to time for a firm, unmerciful hand on your bottom. For complete and total surrender. For being pressed against a wall, hands roughly tied behind you, forced to your knees to suck a very hard cock. Or to be taken from behind, dress hiked up around your waist, panties torn away.
Maybe he “finds” you again, and uses those triggers himself. If it’s destined, as he claims, so be it. But for now, you and I will fully exploit those triggers as opportunity arises.
As part of our contract, we agreed that on Sunday mornings I could switch roles with you: be the master and use whatever comes into my imagination to make you submit and “suffer” at my diabolical hands. The Sunday Switch has been an interesting experiment, and with a little outside inspiration I believe we have come onto something about your own need, every now and then, to abandon all of that corporate suited control you have to exercise during the week, whether with your clients, or in managing your sometimes recalcitrant slave.
While you have left the mercurial E to stew in his own navel gazing, he did get you intrigued by the notion of a good spanking to enhance your surrender. It’s something we have dabbled in over the years. I used a hairbrush on your bottom years ago in D.C.. We were concerned about how long the red marks would last.
After the cathartic sex of Saturday night, I was not sure how well the switch would work Sunday morning. You and I had both discharged a great deal of sexual energy, and the remnants were strewn around the bedroom Sunday morning. It took us a while to find that other black boot, and your crumpled black tights, still reeking of your arousal.
We read the paper a bit and then I pulled out the red leather cuffs and locked them on your wrists. They were then linked together and I tied them off at the top of the bed, your bottom raised for me with a pillow under your pelvis. You were well positioned for my open palm, and your butt was already doing that involuntary squirm.
At first, you always feign a bit of amusement and indifference when I restrain you like this. Of course, you know you are still the mistress, and I am still the slave. But what I have found is that if I prolong the session and ladle on a sufficient degree of discomfort, and maybe a little fantasy tied in, it takes you to that precious sub-space you need to abandon control for just a while. Doesn’t it?
This morning I used a tie to blindfold you, hoping that it would help you suspend your maintenance of the mistress persona a little more easily. A nice trick that seemed to help get you there more quickly.
I was already hard for you that a.m., after doing my writing assignment on the night before. So it took some discipline of my own to get on with your spanking. I buried my face in your exposed, squirmy butt for a while, reveling in your taste and texture. But I had a mission, and soon I was sitting next to you, applying a firm hand in a way that made you jerk and moan a bit with each blow.
Of course, I intermittently slid my hands between your legs, confirming my suspicion that you were soaking that pillow you were grinding against.
After About 20 minutes, and as your bottom took on a nice red glow, I pulled the covers over you and announced I was going downstairs to make some coffee. I gave you an assignment: to imagine three things that you would like E to do to you. As I left the room, I saw you relax into the bed, your bottom still writhing. I spared you the vibrator I would normally use during these “breaks”, assuming that you were so far along that you would take advantage and come while I was out of the room.
I returned about 10 minutes later , steaming coffee cup in hand, and I pulled back the covers. Your bottom was still red. And I gave it a few more hard spanks with my palm to remind you of my control before picking up the hairbrush that E had promised to use on you. I told you we were switching to the brush for a while, and asked you to recite each of the scenarios I had asked you to imagine.
As you recited them, I applied the brush firmly to your bottom. The scenarios you came up with (between gasps and moans) were as follows, recorded here to remind you:
1. He pulls you forcefully over his knee, hands in your hair, yanks up your dress, pulls down your panties, and spanks you hard until you are sobbing. When his hand slides between your legs, you are forced to call him “Sir”, and beg him for the right to come. And you do.
2. He ties you to the bed, hands over your head, and forces you to suck his cock. You told me how much you enjoyed its taste and how hard it was in your imagination.
3. After you suck him for a while he makes you beg him to fuck you. And you do, and he does. You used a wonderful adjective to describe how that felt when he finally entered you. Can’t recall now. But it was a mindblower in your mind.
As we talked through these scenes, I applied the hairbrush. Your bottom squirmed harder, got even redder, and you jerked against the bed. I knew it was time to give you the mercy that you have always shown this slave.
Still using the brush with my right hand, I applied some of our lubricant to a finger on my left hand and slid it deep into your lovely, writhing ass. You let out a little gasp, and I could feel you clenching my finger for dear life. I slid my little finger between your legs, barely reaching your clit, and began a gentle massage there, all the while applying the brush to your bottom. Within about 2 minutes you began a long desperate, shuddering orgasm which nearly took my breath away. It sent you into a convulsion of sobs and tears. I had helped you find that mental space where you gave up control. A matter of great satisfaction to your slave.
Of course, I was not just going to take a bow. I wanted my taste too. So I mounted you from behind and slowly slid my cock into you. Moving gently at first, I soon was pounding into you and you came one more time for me. Still sobbing.
Now it was time for gentleness, so I helped you turn over, still tied to the bed, and entered again that way, and after a while of some soft and gentle fucking It was me begging for permission and you generously granting it.
It seemed that within about 12 hours we had two of the most memorable sexual experiences of our 20 year collaboration. How is that? Certainly the imaginary, uber E gets an assist on this for helping us re-discover a side of your personality we had let go dormant. And we will continue to work that route in the months to come, with or without him.
I certainly support your decision to disengage for now. He cranked you up and left you alone as he wandered along his own path. Maybe he found Hunter’s torpedo? But my suggestion to you is that before he wandered away he planted some triggers in you mistress. Triggers that will make you yearn from time to time for a firm, unmerciful hand on your bottom. For complete and total surrender. For being pressed against a wall, hands roughly tied behind you, forced to your knees to suck a very hard cock. Or to be taken from behind, dress hiked up around your waist, panties torn away.
Maybe he “finds” you again, and uses those triggers himself. If it’s destined, as he claims, so be it. But for now, you and I will fully exploit those triggers as opportunity arises.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Saturday Night on the Town
Thanks for a wonderful celebration day, mistress. A very nice combination of exercise (on our bikes, raking leaves) , creativity (the blogs we wrote) and sex, with some theatre thrown in. The highlights:
Didn’t we do it twice in the morning before beginning our day? My writing for you always gets me stoked. After the first time we read the paper for a bit, then I asked permission for some “aroma therapy”. I really only planned on some meditation down there, but one thing led to another and you came again for me. You asked if I wanted another go, but I demurred. But as you held my cock and balls in your gently persuasive way, I was soon ready. And you were more than willing.
I had asked for a particular gift on my birthday. After we did our work we adjourned for some rest time. Soon you had donned the strap-on, and we lay together kissing and stroking until I was very hard and you seemed very aroused. There is something about the way you direct me into position, ask me to help you find the target, and then oh so vigorously assault me from behind that brings out the deepest submission in me, Mistress. After a few days without it, I really do crave that treatment. That is particularly true when I sense that your interest in E is peaking again, whether because of some texting, or calls, or because of our talks about your possible relationship with him. And I love the way you come with such gusto, from behind,grinding against me.
When you were done with the strap on, you had me insert that little white probe and I mounted you again. And after we were done, we had a relaxing nap. Then it was time to go to the theater and the related reception and gala.
I offered to wear that cock ring we acquired last year. It had been a while, and it’s always a struggle to get both balls through. But once on, it puts me into a semi erect state until I am allowed to remove it. It’s like you have a tight, but gentle grip on me down there. But it’s the opposite of the cage, letting my cock grow, and making it reluctant to shrink once the blood gets trapped in there.
You wore a dramatically dominant outfit. Silky dress. Black tights and boots. (we forgot the gloves!). AS we circulated through the crowd, wary at first over who we might run into, eyes were following you, and I stood close, indulgently rubbing my hand on your shapely, firm bottom. As we chatted and listened to the program, it seemed you were particularly interested in your I phone, and of course in my mind you were keeping in touch with E as you stood there with me, or, later, when you excused yourself for the ladies room. And that stirred my already tightly gripped cock.
Once seated, you toyed a bit with my fingers and thighs, and allowed me to keep my hand inside your thighs, as they alternatively gripped me and spread a bit. You seemed turned on, Mistress. And I was curious why. So my mind drifted to a scenario where it was E there with his hands between your legs in a public place. How very wet that would make you. And what it would feel like to me to see that. Know he was stroking you. Making you all liquid and squirmy.
We stopped by the gala afterwards. Despite the distraction of our kids’ texts, it was hard to put aside for even a moment my arousal and need for you. After some wine and desert we headed back to the parking lot. When the elevator door closed, I gripped your wrists, and pushed you against the wall, your hands above you. We kissed hard and deep, and I could feel your thigh rise up against me as my very hard cock ground against you. A delight. But the door opened all too soon, and we dashed to the car.
We began our Sunday a.m. switching role play a little early. I told you to insert your arms inside the seat belt, and asked you to imagine that E was in the driver’s seat, and needed to assert his control. He told you to spread your legs, and you did, pushing the seat back, your legs on the dash in those very hot black boots and tights. As we talked about that scenario and how it would unfold, I gently stroked your thighs and cunt. I could smell your arousal, mistress, and you squirmed against my hand.
We finally made it home, and I gripped you in the driveway. Squeezing your nipples, rubbing my hands against you. Kissing you deep. You seemed on the verge, but we needed to get inside.
AS I undressed, you simply lay on the bed, on your stomach, all in black. Naked, I lay on top of you, my hand reaching beneath you. My cock in extremis, pressed against your ass. For a while we lay there talking that way. Me pumping against you from behind, and murmuring to you with a story with E as the protagonist, describing what he would do to you. At one point you asked me how you should seduce him, asking for details and strategy. I did my best, but I was so very hard, and the thought of coaching you into acts that would only re-enforce my submission made me even crazier for you.
You rolled over, but said I could not fuck you until I had made you come with my hand. We were both talking now, trying to match one another with examples of how you could humble me with your activities with E. Watching him handle your cunt. Or me holding your arms down as he fucked you. All crazy stuff, that made us both crazier.
When you finally came, it was with a sob and tears that seemed to go on forever, even as I gently stripped you and fucked you as softly as I could, considering the level of my arousal and frustration. All that talk about your surrender of all that control to someone else brought on a well of both sexual and emotional release. You are my treasure, Mistress.
Didn’t we do it twice in the morning before beginning our day? My writing for you always gets me stoked. After the first time we read the paper for a bit, then I asked permission for some “aroma therapy”. I really only planned on some meditation down there, but one thing led to another and you came again for me. You asked if I wanted another go, but I demurred. But as you held my cock and balls in your gently persuasive way, I was soon ready. And you were more than willing.
I had asked for a particular gift on my birthday. After we did our work we adjourned for some rest time. Soon you had donned the strap-on, and we lay together kissing and stroking until I was very hard and you seemed very aroused. There is something about the way you direct me into position, ask me to help you find the target, and then oh so vigorously assault me from behind that brings out the deepest submission in me, Mistress. After a few days without it, I really do crave that treatment. That is particularly true when I sense that your interest in E is peaking again, whether because of some texting, or calls, or because of our talks about your possible relationship with him. And I love the way you come with such gusto, from behind,grinding against me.
When you were done with the strap on, you had me insert that little white probe and I mounted you again. And after we were done, we had a relaxing nap. Then it was time to go to the theater and the related reception and gala.
I offered to wear that cock ring we acquired last year. It had been a while, and it’s always a struggle to get both balls through. But once on, it puts me into a semi erect state until I am allowed to remove it. It’s like you have a tight, but gentle grip on me down there. But it’s the opposite of the cage, letting my cock grow, and making it reluctant to shrink once the blood gets trapped in there.
You wore a dramatically dominant outfit. Silky dress. Black tights and boots. (we forgot the gloves!). AS we circulated through the crowd, wary at first over who we might run into, eyes were following you, and I stood close, indulgently rubbing my hand on your shapely, firm bottom. As we chatted and listened to the program, it seemed you were particularly interested in your I phone, and of course in my mind you were keeping in touch with E as you stood there with me, or, later, when you excused yourself for the ladies room. And that stirred my already tightly gripped cock.
Once seated, you toyed a bit with my fingers and thighs, and allowed me to keep my hand inside your thighs, as they alternatively gripped me and spread a bit. You seemed turned on, Mistress. And I was curious why. So my mind drifted to a scenario where it was E there with his hands between your legs in a public place. How very wet that would make you. And what it would feel like to me to see that. Know he was stroking you. Making you all liquid and squirmy.
We stopped by the gala afterwards. Despite the distraction of our kids’ texts, it was hard to put aside for even a moment my arousal and need for you. After some wine and desert we headed back to the parking lot. When the elevator door closed, I gripped your wrists, and pushed you against the wall, your hands above you. We kissed hard and deep, and I could feel your thigh rise up against me as my very hard cock ground against you. A delight. But the door opened all too soon, and we dashed to the car.
We began our Sunday a.m. switching role play a little early. I told you to insert your arms inside the seat belt, and asked you to imagine that E was in the driver’s seat, and needed to assert his control. He told you to spread your legs, and you did, pushing the seat back, your legs on the dash in those very hot black boots and tights. As we talked about that scenario and how it would unfold, I gently stroked your thighs and cunt. I could smell your arousal, mistress, and you squirmed against my hand.
We finally made it home, and I gripped you in the driveway. Squeezing your nipples, rubbing my hands against you. Kissing you deep. You seemed on the verge, but we needed to get inside.
AS I undressed, you simply lay on the bed, on your stomach, all in black. Naked, I lay on top of you, my hand reaching beneath you. My cock in extremis, pressed against your ass. For a while we lay there talking that way. Me pumping against you from behind, and murmuring to you with a story with E as the protagonist, describing what he would do to you. At one point you asked me how you should seduce him, asking for details and strategy. I did my best, but I was so very hard, and the thought of coaching you into acts that would only re-enforce my submission made me even crazier for you.
You rolled over, but said I could not fuck you until I had made you come with my hand. We were both talking now, trying to match one another with examples of how you could humble me with your activities with E. Watching him handle your cunt. Or me holding your arms down as he fucked you. All crazy stuff, that made us both crazier.
When you finally came, it was with a sob and tears that seemed to go on forever, even as I gently stripped you and fucked you as softly as I could, considering the level of my arousal and frustration. All that talk about your surrender of all that control to someone else brought on a well of both sexual and emotional release. You are my treasure, Mistress.
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