Dear Mistress,
We had a lovely day skiing with the teens out here to start our Christmas Holidays. And despite the exercise, sunshine, altitude, mountain air, tree trimming and dinner at home with our Texas friends, we still seemed to keep our sexual adventures in overdrive.
I had woken early and hard, my cock having trouble adjusting to the time change. So I adjourned to do my homework for you. By the time you awoke and said you were ready for me to return to bed, the light was just emerging over the mountains. I handed you the computer and you read, as I enjoyed my time to slowly tease your cunt with my tongue. When you finish up and grade my work, it’s typical that I would bring you to orgasm that way, before getting my turn.
But it was Sunday, our normal switch day, so I disengaged my tongue, despite your grunt of disapproval, pulled up a chair, and hauled you over my lap. Stroking you gently at first, I asked you to consider Vanilla Mom’s blog about meeting an imaginary Dom somewhere for his first “inspection”. As the story developed, I proceeded to batter your delicious bottom with my palm, until you were panting and squirming.
But unlike other spankings, when you might come with my fingers stimulating you, you moaned and begged “make love to me Slave”. Your need to switch to a more comfortable and loving position struck a nerve, and of course I always want to obey and please you, even when we switch roles. So I led you back to the bed, where your body was so warm, soft and inviting. The spanking seemed to have made all of your muscles relax, even the ones in your cunt, and you opened and took me with extraordinary ease. I finished you, holding your hands above your head and pumping into you.
After a fine day in the high mountain sun (need to remember suns screen today), we returned to our cottage for our afternoon “rest”. (The girls must think their old, fuddy duddy parents sleep too much).
Truth be told, as much fun as it is to ski our local mountains in the blazing sun, the time of the day I most look forward to is this R & R period after a day outside, and before we jump into our evening activities.
You changed into something “more comfortable”, from your alluring lingerie collection, and I stripped, naked as you like me. As you read for a while, I monitored the progress of our local NFL team. But the day’s discussions about choices and options you were considering had me edgy with desire.
Soon the computer and book were shunted aside, and I was using my fingers to bring you to orgasm as we talked about your decision to submit to Sir. Then you used your hand to bring me to the edge, begging for the chance to fuck you. Ultimately you relented, and I was rewarded with the opportunity to slide inside you again and get the relief I needed so badly by then.
We both napped a bit before it was time to prepare to entertain our guests, bearing pizza from a nearby dive. These are folks we enjoy seeing on our visits here, and as the evening proceeded and more wine was consumed, we adjourned to the seating area in front of our blazing fire to catch up on developments over the last few months.
I had promised to behave more slavishly on this trip, though with discretion. Therefore I enjoy the little opportunities to fit our new lifestyle into everyday activities. I maneuvered you into an easy chair, your feet stretched onto a hassock, and me settled in at your feet. You were barefoot, your toes painted a deep red, ankles crossed. I took your left foot and began a slow massage as we talked to our friends.
This causal gesture seemed to have a compelling effect on our friend Joe. Within moments, he had gotten up from the little love seat opposite us, where he had been sitting with his wife, and sat on the edge of the hassock where your feet lay. It was not long before he was handling your right foot, sliding his fingers between her toes, and commenting on their shape and the texture of your skin. Odd.
You seemed amused. But did nothing to pull away, just thanked Joe for his complement, and the dual massages continued. It was as if you had two slaves now, worshiping your feet.
By now Joe’s wife and 20’s something daughter, and our two surly teens seemed amused by Joe’s foot fixation. (Our girls already think their parents are a little odd).
After a few more moments, I offered to trade feet with Joe, taking your right foot in hand and handing him your left. And when I kissed your toes and looked to Joe as if he should consider doing the same, that got the “yucks” coming from the girls, and seemed to make Joe realize that he had gotten a bit lost in his frank devotion to your lovely feet. I wonder what his wife had to say about all this as they bedded down for the night.
Through the evening, I noticed you disappear into our bedroom, presumably to go to the girl’s room. But I also wondered whether you were checking to see if there was any message from Sir. It’s the sort of speculation that may be misguided, but turns me on a bit. So what the hell.
But I did know from our talks that you were in the final stages of negotiating the terms of your “part time” surrender to Sir. It reminded me a bit of how we negotiated our contract a few months back. It was not much of a negotiation. You got what you wanted, as any slave owner should. But its important, and rather sexy, to know in advance what rights you are surrendering.
When our guests wandered off into the cold air, we buttoned up the house and headed to bed. As I walked into the room, you were already in some delightfully skimpy sleep wear, perched on the window ledge where you can get the limited cell reception available here. You smiled with a certain delight and said that Sir was texting about your offer to surrender. It seemed he had accepted your few conditions. That gave you an apparent thrill. You have an adventure to look forward to in the New Year when we get back to River City.
You told me your back was a bit sore, a signal to me not to press my luck for the third time that day. So we read a bit, but the thoughts running through my brain, and our further discussions made me want to slide between your thighs and suck on you a bit. When I asked permission you agreed, though I said I would have no expectations that would require you to strain that back.
Your thighs were creamy soft as I pressed my face against them, and your dripping cunt was creamy too. You seemed highly aroused even before the first touch of my tongue. I slowly took you to the edge of release, backed away a few times, then took you over the edge, which seemed to please and relax you, Mistress.
You reached for my cock, which was frustratingly hard again. “What should we do about this?” You asked. I knew that you had originally nixed making love, so I offered to masturbate for you, which you sometimes enjoy. “Maybe”, you said “but first, the glove”. You reached for the long black, zip up glove, pulled it on and then used it to work me slowly and gently with it, making me even more desperate.
Then you took me in your warm mouth for a while, turning up the temperature, until I was whining “please, Mistress”. Pulling your lips from my cock, you had me stroke myself with my hand while your gloved fingers cupped my balls until I was on the very verge.
It was at that point that you gave me the choice of fucking you, or coming into my own hand. A no-brainer.
After we were done, I was quite grateful and ready for sleep, but wondered whether my manipulative behavior was worthy of punishment.
Your loving slave.
