Mistress's Robo-Cock?

Dear Mistress,

Because of our spontaneous middle of the night activities, it seemed I slept a little later than normal this morning. And you have asked me to wake you up early for pleasuring because of a breakfast appointment on your busy schedule. So today’s homework is a little abbreviated. It does not do justice to a very eventful day for us in and out of bed. So I may take the option available to the bloviators in Congress to “revise and extend” my remarks later today, or over the weekend.

You suggested the title of today’s entry – “Robo-Cock” – when you giggled and teased me as my penis stiffened again last nigh,t during some discussion we were having about Vanilla Mom’s blog. You liked her recent story “Under Contract” and we wondered if she had noticed the title of our blog before she wrote it.  In any event, we both were flattered by her recent comment.

But the part of the discussion that got me going again concerned the potential Dom you had “interviewed”  yesterday afternoon. Sounds like he was interviewing you as much as you were interviewing him. And that’s how it should be. The issue was “titles”. If your exploration proceeded, what would he expect you to call him? Sir, Master? Or did it matter? What would he call you? Slave? Pet?

The question is not yet resolved, but I must confess the thought of it all, and our playful discussion of it did begin to harden me, even though we had made love  vigorously and with great satisfaction only an hour or so earlier.

You noted that about a year ago, when we spent too much time away from one another, and  were struggling to get beyond my own felony offense, I was more than happy with one performance a day. Two at most. You said I would whine that a guy in his late 50’s was doing pretty well “getting it up” once a day.

So here we are, in the same town and my “problem” is that I am turned on or on-able at the drop of a sly remark, the taste and fragrance of the back of your neck, or the gentle caress of your fingers against my shaft as I head to work, suited up for battle.

Of course there is no one answer to my accelerating addiction to you in recent months. You have always got me going, Mistress, going back to the evening we met more than 23 years ago, when I spotted that early-20’s hotty in her stylish short dress, who lit up that rubber chicken political dinner. I could not tear my eyes off you once I noticed you at the next table. Thankfully, you decided to talk to me, because the late 30’s lawyer I was then was too intimidated to approach you.

It took quite a few months before I finally had the chance to see you out of your stylish attire. And the rest is torrid history.

But these last few months has taken that to a new and surprising level. What makes me so much more combustible? It must involve my decision to put all my mental and sexual energy in one basket by submitting to you completely. No more Mr. remote, aloof, disengaged for me.  I know, your reaction: “It’s about time”. And it was long past time. The best decision I ever made.

That submission evolved over the months since July, 2008, and was enhanced to a large degree by our Contract, which I take very literally. It turns me on just to review it.

All of your little tricks helped me get there: the strap-on you use to remind me of your power, kneeling to worship you, sometimes with my hands tied behind my back, the croppings from time to time, and of course the cage you lock for me in the mornings before work, which contains and controls me through the day. The fact that you respond so dramatically in a sexual way to our activities is an important re-enforcement. I do love to please you, Mistress.

Finally, there is the recently discovered component involving your potential involvement with someone else. Why does that  turn me on? Confusing emotions are involved. In part I like the added sexual energy you get from the attention of someone else. It’s quite noticeable. There is also “validation” for me to be confronted with the knowledge that someone else desires “my” woman. And the potential humiliation of having to share you with another man, and hearing about your exploits with him, compounds the submission and “slavish” feelings that have triggered all this crazy sexual energy in me. And you saw evidence of that last night from ”robo-cock”.

A hard cock doesn’t lie, Mistress.

Oops. Deadline has arrived. And I don’t want to lose my opportunity to share the hard cock that this writing has generated.

This morning, you read this blog before we made love and headed off to our respective work days. Our sex was overheated by our ongoing dialog about whether you will allow Sir to “own” you from time to time, and whether his training has already begun.

You looked particularly hot in some sexy undies as you slid on those tight black jeans. My cage was already locked on, and as we kissed goodbye, the subject of this blog and the hard to articulate reasons your interactions with Sir turn me on came up again.  I said “Maybe if I think about it really hard I will figure it out, and the effect will go away.”

You responded “Don’t think about it too hard, Slave”. 

My response: “Yes, Mistress.”

Our first HNT: Mistress is Bathed

After a long day of Mistress duty, nothing like a soothing bubble bath and a wee dram of the Irish.

24 Long Hours

Dear Mistress.

My weekly abstinence day has gotten increasingly challenging to complete. I am not sure whether that’s because you have gotten better at teasing and frustrating me as the day progresses (you certainly have); or because you have gotten me conditioned to receiving at least 2 or 3 opportunities for release most days. So when I start the day knowing that I need to last 24 hours or more….well it is (literally) hard.

Yesterday was a good example. The night before (Tuesday evening) you were indulgent, allowing me to fuck you around 11 pm, after we watched some TV. I knew you were tired, but somehow coaxed you into a final session for the day, knowing that I was facing a day without. I probably deserved your rejection based on my manipulative, guilt-tripping behavior. But you sensed my mounting desperation and allowed me the privilege (though you must admit I made sure you were pleased first).

When I woke, I did my homework. Writing about our adventures always gives me a bit of urgency for you, and its worse when I know that it will not be fulfilled. But as you read my email for the day, you allowed me to suck on your cunt and then came for me after you put the computer down. I do enjoy how your belly quakes a bit as I go down on you, when you giggle at my little attempts at humor.

I took my shower, but when it came time for me to put my cage on, I had a problem. It seems the width of my cock (not hard, just full) simply would not fit into its little container. Now it always has worked before. Crazy. You saw my struggle, and the little abrasion from the day before, and decided to grant me a day-off. But as you weighed my options, you weighed my cock and balls in your soft hand, compounding the problem.

(Later in the day I did some research on a more comfortable and durable stainless steel model. I need to take measurements this morning so its here when we get back from our holiday).

But as we shall see, the absence of the cage may have made this abstinence day worse, rather than better, for me.

The girls were off to their exams, and I was getting ready to leave for work. You were in a short black robe. No undies, as is your morning way.

As we kissed goodbye, you took advantage of my missing cage to toy with me through my pants, and I quickly sprang to life. You ran a finger gently along my shaft, amused by the response you were getting. Tease.

So I rebelled a bit, pulling you into our family room. The leaves are down from the tress now, and from its perch you can look down into the parking and driveway area of the nearby school. We could see the parents and children coming and going, but they could not look up to see you pushed faced down over the table where we usually have dinner. As I applied a few spanks, I asked you to consider the likelihood that your new friend, Sir, might enjoy spanking you into submission, should you survive his screening process (and he your screening process). That seemed to settle you down into a more docile frame of mind. You were quite wet as I spread your legs a bit, rubbing you not as gently as normal with my fingers, and you bucked against me, on the verge, it seemed.

This is where I made a mistake. You were so available, and I was so un-caged, that I dropped my pants and slid my very hard cock into you from behind, very, very slowly. The angle was just perfect for you to take me in that way. You seemed surprised at my impertinence. But I heard no protests as I mentioned that Sir would probably make you beg to come under these circumstances, and might not be so generous with his permission.

Of course I knew I had no permission until the day ended. Its always a little harder for me to come as I enter you this way, so I was not too concerned. But I slid in and out of you ever so gently to keep my ardor under control. You came hard once that way, and then again as I simple pressed into you, moving side to side, not wanting to leave the warmth my cock had found there, or to abandon the vision of you bent against the table, arms extended in front of you, so content and incredibly attractive.

But of course, ultimately I had to pull away, and get to work. The drive and the rest of my morning was a torment, with your scent lingering on my fingers and my cock and balls still full and tingling. Argh.

You were in meetings downtown most of the morning and for lunch. So We just exchanged a few tests, with lines like: “frustrated, mistress”, “as you should be, Slave” or “still tied up, Slave” and “Provocative”(me). I thought about what a text would be like if you were really tied up some afternoon by Sir.

Around 2 p.m. you appeared in my office. You had on that relatively short dark brown cashmere dress, with dark brown tights and suede boots. I am sure you got a few looks and comments on your walk up the hill to see me. As we kissed you reached for me with your well manicured fingers and asked how my abstinence day was going. My cock was all too responsive, betraying the fact that it was not going well.

You sat in your “throne” (the chair I pushed against the door), and I knelt to bury my face between your legs. I always like that moment when I get to peel down your tights to boot tops and find how wet you already are, mistress. When you had your fill, you indicated for me to stand in front of you, and reached again for my cock. It was firm, and got firmer as you had me drop my pants. As my colleagues walked past my closed door, you pulled me into your warm mouth and proceeded to taunt me with your soft tongue and lips, fingers cupping and stroking me. You were driving me crazy. And the thought of Sir’s apparent interest in directing this sort of activity made it all the harder to keep my vow of abstinence.

It was at this point that I really missed my cage.

You had mercy and allowed me to zip back up, then were off to battle the crowds at the Mall. I was left to ponder how I was going to make it until midnight.

At home that evening we were able to fit in a dusky bike ride in the upper 30’s air. Bracing and a nice distraction from my “ordeal”. When we got home, you allowed me to worship you on my knees, but spared me any further teasing. A relief.

After helping the teens with some further exam prep, we went to bed a little later than normal. As we watched the last episode of “Californication”, I rested my hand between your thighs, teasing out your little patch of fur a bit, and enjoying the way your hips squirmed oh so slightly in response.

The TV off, you suggested we read a bit. I think you were teasing me. But I suggested that at least I should be able to play with you a bit, even though I was still quarantined.

You said “tell me a story and you might get a reward”. So as I slowly worked your cunt with my hand, I spun a story for you. I won’t share the details, but suffice it to say it speculated about Sir’s training techniques.

As I spun the tale, you worked my cock gently with one hand and, and took your time to build to one of those shuddering orgasms that please me. But when you were done, you acted as if it was time to sleep, leaving me more desperate than ever. I asked for permission to enter you, but you reminded me that it was not yet midnight. But we negotiated entry without permission to come. I flipped you onto your stomach, an approach that makes it easier from me with those “limitations”.

The story grew more elaborate and graphic as I slid into you from behind. You had your head resting on your arms, hair fanned across your shoulders as I slowly worked in and out of you. I knew your mind was somewhere between me, and the protagonist in my story. But that is what “story time” is all about. And you had 2 or 3 shuddering orgasms as I enjoyed your soft warm passage while I was challenged to contain my own release.

By now I think I had drained you Mistress, so reluctantly pulled away to lay next to you. We settled into a spoon like embrace trying to find sleep. Of course you like the feel of my cock against your bottom as we drift off, and it feels very nice there. But the embrace so deep into abstinence day was very frustrating.

You had given me permission to take you during the night if need be. But, sadly for my own self respect, I only made it until around 11 pm. Still, 24 hours of abstinence. Not terrible. But not up to the standards you expect of me. I hope Mistress does not wake up disappointed.

I really can’t describe the pleasure of entering you then, knowing that I did not have to hold back. At that point I was in no hurray. So we went into overtime. When I finally asked for permission to come, and it was granted, my howl of delight probably frightened the cats.

And all this recounting of the tale has made me want you again.

Love, your Slave.

If only Martin Van Buren had a Sex Blog

Dear Mistress,

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.

Love, your Slave.