Mistress Gets a Spanking

Last month, Mistress and I took a road trip for some early season skiing  out west. We stopped for some improvisational “switch” activity on a high mountain pass already dusted with the season’s first snows. You can see her here, after she had counted off some spanks, and then came, squirming against the crafty, knowing fingers of her imaginary DOM. (See our entry of November,  22 2009 for the details.)

That leads into my account of this past Sunday’s switch activity.

As those who follow these pages know, Mistress allows me to abandon my Slave status on Sundays for an hour or two and take charge. Of course, it’s very hard to break her of her habit of referring to me as “Slave” during these Sunday encounters, which will be my objective as this experiment continues.

On Sunday morning, Mistress had a social engagement with our teens and her family, so we had some conventional, but very satisfying sex before shuffling through the morning papers, and heading off to the day’s activities.

But that evening, the girls went off to dinner with their grandmother, giving us free range of the house and the opportunity to take Mistress for a little excursion. I wrapped her wrists in our little leather cuffs, and locked them in place, then joined them in front with a little metal fastener courtesy of Ace Hardware. While that link is probably too easy for the person in custody to unfasten on their own, for our purposes it works well.

I was fully dressed, in jeans and a t-shirt. But Mistress had only black panties and a matching black bra. Mistress did not approve, since she prefers me naked for these encounters, but I reminded her that it was time for her to surrender, and  stop giving the orders.

We kissed in bed for a bit. This is the time when Mistress tries to pre-empt my uppity behaviors but seducing me into engage in some quick and dirty encounter rather than take a firmer hand.  But She was surprised when I told her to get up, and come downstairs with me.

Taking her in hand, we proceeded to our  living room. The sun was down, and the room was lit only by the glow of the streetlight and passing traffic.  I pulled Mistress over to our heavy, wooden Stickley couch. Its design includes plenty of wooden bars and supports to secure a recalcitrant maiden, something I took note of for future adventures. But this evening I was going to keep it simple.

Mistress’s interest in spanking was peaked this fall by her cyber flirtation with E, that old college lover from 20 years back who suddenly popped up in her inbox in October. His expressed desire to take a firm hand to her pert ass got Mistress’s juices flowing in ways that surprised both of us. And I have been happy to exploit the triggers that E planted in my Mistress.

As the weeks have passed, my efforts have graduated from a few well placed, but gentle spanks, to a few blows with a hairbrush, but all mercifully applied with plenty of fingers between the legs action. No limits have been tested, as I have built up my own courage and Mistress’s tolerance.

But Sunday I decided that we were going to look for Mistress’s boundaries. I sat down on the couch and pulled Mistress across my lap. She squirmed against me, wondering whether she might slip off. I told her not to worry, that she was going nowhere. I used my left arm to hold her back down, tight against my lap. 

Mistress’s bound hands were extended in front of her, under her head. Her legs were bent a little at the knee. I proceeded slowly, fondling her firm cheeks, still covered by black, silky panties. She could not help squirming in anticipation.

I asked her to consider a scenario involving a lawyer who had engaged her to help her with his voir dire, but found that her attitude was uncooperative. Too haughty, she needed to be brought down a notch.  So he pulled her over his lap, flipped back her dress and spanked her hard and long.

As I told this story, I proceeded to give Mistress the cold, hard spanking I had been holding back on until now. Alternating cheeks, I applied my hand to her bottom with a zest that she had not yet experienced from me. 

She writhed. She moaned. She squirmed, her lovely feet kicking about. Her ankles alternately crossed and pressing against one another, then flying about with a strange desperation. It was all I could do to hold her onto my lap. But I did.

I did take a few breaks as the spanking proceeded, to test the waters between her legs. She was very wet. And of course her squirms on my lap, and the delicious scent of her arousal made my cock strain against my jeans.

After each break, I resumed the spanking in earnest, making sure Mistress understood that this was “for real”. No toying with her. She was getting the spanking she claimed she wanted. That she deserved.

As she struggled against me, I became convinced that she might actually be able to come on her own, just from the spanking and the grinding of her eager cunt against my lap. But that was an experiment to save for another Sunday. So as I proceeded to spank with my left hand, I slid my other hand between her legs, using two fingers to fill her.

In the story, the Lawyer would not stop spanking until her haughty, bossy demeanor was completely stripped away. She was required to admit she had been a bad girl, that she had been bitchy and mean, and that she would be submissively devoted to her work, if only he would stop punishing her and let her come.  And after the spanking she had received, Mistress was more than happy to agree to these terms. When she begged for permission, she was allowed to come, and did so, thrusting against my lap, and shaking even the sturdy old Stickley couch.

She rested there a bit, tears on her cheeks, catching her breath. A bit stunned. Then I let her rise, and we stumbled back up to her bed, where I greedily took my prize, before returning to my duties as her devoted Slave.

Mistress Requires her Slave to Wear the "Ring" on a Saturday Night Out.

Dear Mistress,

Our weekend was busy, with parties, football and various activities, but we also seemed to fit in a good bit of the activity that has been fodder for our blog. And Saturday night deserves its own entry, and illustration.

After the big family get together Friday night, we had plans for some holiday socializing Saturday evening. You consulted with me on how to dress (not that my opinion should count) then settled on something you knew would make me particularly attentive and determined to unwrap you at the end of the night: a silky flowing dress, with black tights and boots to complete the look. You pointed out that you would not be wearing panties. (I took the accompanying photo before you put on your dress, and wished we had time for worship then and there).

You had me wear my cock ring that evening, knowing the effect it would have on me. The ring is this little device made of hard, barely flexible plastic. It’s a bear to put on, causing no inconsiderable amount of pain as I squeeze each ball through the small opening, and then shove my flaccid penis inside. Of course, if my cock even gets semi-hard, it’s impossible to fit into the ring, requiring a good deal of mental discipline. That can be hard to maintain when I also have to watch you parading around the room, semi-nude, laughing at my discomfort, with an “aww, poor Slave” thrown in, from time to time.

It usually takes me ten or fifteen minutes to finish the job, since my balls do not readily co-operate. But once on, the ring has a rather dramatic and arousing effect. Its like I am gripped tightly by those well manicured fingers of yours. I knew my cock would be in a semi-hard state all night, unless you decided to enhance the problem with some personal attention.

With the ring gripping me, and you so enticingly dressed, I was probably more focused on getting you home than on the social small talk the evening required. You allowed me to stroke your inner thighs as we drove to and from our events. And I tried to stay close through the evening, using opportunities presented to fondle your lovely ass through your silky wrappings.

I do remember our conversation with that cute lesbian couple. When one of them mentioned being in bed for a while on doctor’s orders, and how attentive her partner was, you said “Mick likes to wait on me in bed, don’t you?” And my response confirmed that your desires always are something I am happy to fulfill. They laughed, but I wondered if they picked up our little clues about my new status on your life.

Finally it was time to get home. You shed the dress, but left on your black hose and boots and lay face down on the bed, as if you were too tired for me. I spooned against you, my hand sliding between your legs, and began to gently rub you there as I kissed your back. Of course, I was naked, as you prefer in these matters . When you are dressed, and I am naked, it particularly enhances my subservience to you, Mistress. (Something I tried on you Sunday afternoon in our switch time).

As I slowly built your arousal, I verbally reviewed some of the applications you had received via email from gentlemen who want to dominate you. Of particular interest was the narrative description of one encounter that had been proposed. (Whether you would ever allow this to occur is something only Mistress can decide.) But the thought of you being required to surrender your hose and panties to him in a public place seemed to help bring you to a shuddering climax as my hand slid across your cunt, sheathed by your black tights.

By now my cock was at level red alert, tightly gripped by the cock ring. You allowed me to pull off your boots and tights and enter you, marveling at how hard I was. Quite literally I was painfully hard, because as my cock and balls swell with arousal, the ring becomes all the tighter.

After a few moments you decided to get on top, and proceeded to take your own sweet time to build to an orgasm of very dramatic proportions. What we talked about (and I recall only that it involved themes that would make even the two of us blush) is lost to me now. What I do remember is that how desperate I was to come, how you were reduced to sobs and tears by the time you shuddered to a climax on top of me, and that my cock and balls seemed to be on fire with that strange combination of arousal and pain that only the cock ring produces.

Of course the other effect of the cock ring is to restrain my moment of discharge. It presses against the little channel that would otherwise happily deliver my sperm to its proper destination. As a result it takes a good deal of extra arousal and effort to complete the task. As I tilted back and forth on the brink for what seemed like an hour, you seemed to enjoy my increasing desperation. I lost track of your orgasms after We had flipped over, me on top, one of your legs between my thighs.

Finally and with a loud groan, I came inside you (with permission of course).

It was another remarkable Saturday night with you, Mistress. Though it did take me a while to wiggle that damn thing off me.

Your Slave.

My Occassional Reward

Every week or two, Mistress has a special reward for me for good behavior: She dons her strap-on and  uses it on my ass. Here is a picture she sent me recently showing her ready for  action.

Mistress decided to try the strap-on  several months ago, in her quest to find  ways to make me submit more deeply to her. She had me order her harness and several dildos to use with it (Stockroom has a good variety, but this is not “product placement”. No promotional consideration provided.)

I must say I was very uneasy at first. We had played with an anal probe for a few weeks by then. So I knew the physical joys and mental gamesmanship of play “back there”.  Using the probe was the first time I had ever been penetrated by anyone. And of course, I had to get over the hump of thinking that this somehow clouded my firm and unwavering commitment to heterosexuality. “Sure I like musical theatre, but this may be taking it a bit far?”, I thought.

Our first experiment with the anal probe came during video chat sex.  I was too embarrassed the weekend before to show Mistress that what she had commanded me to order had arrived.

I was instructed to insert it, and was stunned by the jolt to my cock. It was  the convergence of physical stimulation to my prostate, and the psychological stimulation of going into an unexplored cave at Mistress’s command.

The probe soon became part of our play routine, particularly helpful after a night on the town, or for the 3^rd session of the day, when a firm erection can be a little harder to produce on command. No problem there with the probe.

At Christmas 2008, Mistress decided it was time to take me a little further along. We ordered the harness and she planned its inaugural mission for Valentine’s Day. Lots of build up, and I wondered how it would work for both of us.

We planned a special night at an undisclosed location, away from the tempering effect of teen daughters. Dinner was served. Wine consumed. Mistress then adjourned to another room and emerged in black stockings, black lingerie and her black harness. Color coordinated and ready to take me.

This means of forcing me to submit even further was a hit from the beginning. I lay face down on the bed, pillow under my hips. Once I helped her position her tool properly, Mistress began her exploration slowly at first, but as her arousal at my whimpering groans increased, her thrusts took on more urgency. She came with a shuddering gusto that was unique. Resting on top of me for a few moments, she pulled out gently and lay beside me.

I was left in a state of mental surrender like nothing I had experienced before. My Domme had graduated to another level in her command over me, leaving me defiled and, of course, wanting her even more.

Since then, she has fucked me in the ass on a regular basis, more as  a reward for good behavior than discipline. I can recall actually begging for it once, at the height of her flirtation with E. My pleas came in a text message as I  stewed downstairs for a while as she chatted upstairs with him, with obvious joy and arousal. Somehow the strange exciting sexual tension of that moment made me crave the extra degree of submission that her use of me with the strap-on brings on.

So lets skip ahead now to yesterday afternoon, when Mistress and Slave were relaxing at home.

I was watching a college football game that had a thrilling ending for the home team. She was napping beside me. Kids were gone. When she felt me get up as the game ended, Mistress awoke, and said “Its time to go upstairs, Slave”. I already knew what she had in mind, and my cock stirred in anticipation.

Upstairs she directed me to strip. She donned some lovely mint green lingerie and then her black harness. She shared the lubricant with me as we lay there in bed, building our passions with some kissing and fondling and talk about some of her recent correspondents.

“It’s time” She said and I knew what to do. Sliding over onto my stomach, and  giving her ready access to my ass.  I used my hands to guide her inside me, and then felt her ease into me, her soft flesh pressing into my back, her breathing already reflecting her own excitement. We talked about what this all meant, how it symbolized my submission to her. And she told me to summarize that for my homework this morning. Somehow the idea of communicating this to our reader(s) brought on an intense, gasping orgasm for her, and I could feel her shudder against me, though she valiantly continued her thrusts to wring a bit more submission from her Slave. Finally,  she collapsed on top of me, exhausted and with those tears and sobs that delight me.

After a bit of rest, she pulled out and off, and told me to go insert my probe.

It takes me a while to recover at those moments. Not so much from the physical invasion, but from the mental state I am left in. I feel like a rag doll with little muscle control. But I stumbled into the bathroom for my probe, lubed it up, inserted it where Mistress had been only moments earlier, and returned to her bed for some more conventional love making.

After Mistress came once more, this time with me doing the thrusting, I was allowed to come. My release seemed to occur in stages, sort of like the separate boosters igniting at a  space shuttle launches. Ooh. Ahh.

Afterwards I went a bit comatose, napping next to my loving Mistress, reminded why I have so gladly submitted to her.

Looking Forward to Turning the Tables on Mistress Sunday Morning