HNT, Chirstmas Eve Edition

Dear Mistress,

I woke up early this am, pressed against you, cock coming to life with a dream in my head that I won’t share with our reader(s), but will share with you, if and when directed. Suffice it to say, that dream had a lot to do with my highly charged state.

Before pulling away from you, I began to compose in my brain this morning’s homework assignment. I realized that, like any good vacation, the routine and relaxation was creating a bit of a blur for me. When was that? Was it yesterday? The day before? 

But these are the things that came to mind, no doubt out of sequence:

·      Climbing into bed, yesterday morning I think, you in those gauzy green panties I gave you a Christmas or two ago. They are so thin that I like to suck on you through them, using my hands to spread your thighs, and sometimes hooking a finger underneath to press inside you probing for that little spot that sends you over the edge. And it seems you like to come for me that way, bucking against my mouth.

·      Summarizing the details of ‘Nilla’s latest story, based on her hyper-charged extension of a story line in our own blog, then begging you for the right to come.

·      Under the covers with you, both of us naked, after a day on the slopes, exploring each other’s bodies with fingers and mouths, in no rush to finish each other off.

·      Me asking for permission to worship your bottom, still cold to the touch from a day outside. Then taking the time to cover it with kisses while my hand probed between your legs.

·      Sliding a pillow under your hips, before sliding into you gently from behind, inch by inch. Then listening to your labored breathing as you came once, then twice that way. It’s become a new favorite position.

·      After we were done, going to sleep at your side as you sorted through your facebook friends.

·      Pressing you against the wall in the restroom of that Japanese restaurant last night, roughly handling your breasts, then sliding my finger between your legs, your cunt responding to my touch. Wish we had taken the time to finish you off there, but the teens were waiting.

·      Sitting on the Bar, listening to the Piano Man, a bit groggy from Saki and beer, sliding my hand up the leg of your jeans to massage your calf. Our friends must think I am a bit loco.

Now its Christmas Eve and some fresh snow is on the ground. We have children and friends to entertain, and ancient rituals to observe.  It’s good to be creating some new rituals of our own, Mistress.

Mistress Chills after a Day on the Slopes

Dear Mistress,

Skiing with our children is fun. But all that time on the ski lift with the surly teens does cut into a Mistress and Slave’s intimacy time. It’s hard to do the post-clinch analysis we typically engage in when your daughter is sitting next to you, even with her I-pod cranked up. So we did not have the time yesterday to de-brief on our incendiary encounter in the closet from the evening before the way we would have liked.

By the time our Ski day was done, we were both happy to hide out in our room, first to check our emails, and then to pick off where we had left off. (The attached photo shows Mistress stripped to her skiing undies, doing an email check).

When you were ready for me, you suggested that I lose the underwear, and insert that little plastic probe. You like what it does to my cock. Of course, these were not mere suggestions, and I responded dutifully. There is something about being penetrated like that at your command that brings out the slave in me, and makes me all the more determined to please you.

Your ski undies are significantly thicker than your black tights, but I did enjoy the texture of them as I climbed into bed and slid next to you. You let me use my hand to massage you gently through them, until your hips began to make those little bucking motions against me that signal your increasing arousal. By the time I slid my hand inside those thick black long-johns, you were sopping. And our running dialog about what happened the night before seemed to make you all the hotter, until you came shuddering against my fingers with that lovely low moan of yours.

By now my cock was hard and demanding. Your fingers egging it on had their desired effect. And I clumsily struggled to yank off your ski-wear to make way for it. But you wanted to suck first (getting into practice, Mistress?).

You are very excellent in the deployment of your oral skills, Mistress. Though I am your Slave, I still have a bit of pride, and sometimes I am too proud to beg for the right to fuck you. I like to see how long I can last as you try to break my will. The light, teasing touch of your tongue along my shaft brought me to the brink. You kept me there for a while using fingers, mouth and tongue with deft skill until I could not take anymore, and you had me begging.

Thankfully, you were merciful and granted my wish. Hopefully you enjoyed the benefits of the hard cock that you had brought forth, as I took my time once allowed inside. I just remember a throbbing, multi-stage orgasm which left me ready for a long lazy afternoon nap as the light faded over the mountain.

Last night we took the girls back to our favorite local Cantina, where locals gathered for their annual Christmas sing - along. It was a family night, and we even provoked the cynical teens to put down their texting devices long enough to sing some with the crowd. Sweet.

The teens hitched a ride home with a friend, so we actually got to ride home alone, and talk about how we landed in this strange new world of D/s, and a sex life that seems other worldly.

My observation was that it began in July, 2008, when I realized I had to give up my traditional macho, aloof persona and let you take the lead in our sexual activities. After that, as each encounter has led to the next, my enslavement by you has become deeper. So that it has become natural for you to call me Slave (we have to be careful of that in public but slip some times). And I am your slave.

As a clever Mistress, you have deployed a number of tactics and tools to enhance my submission, step by step over a year and a half, so that certain words, actions, signals can begin to make me hard even without physical contact. You have gotten inside my head, and these benign manipulations have created a Slave that I hope is worthy of you. I really am addicted to your taste, smell and the texture of your skin.

I mention this in the context of your prospective submission to Sir. I wonder whether his skills are such that he will enslave you in that step by step process you have deployed so skillfully on me. If so, I suspect it will be a rewarding, and very exciting process for you, Mistress. Though I suspect your will to resist may be greater than mine has been. You will both be tested.

When we got home we really were tired and groggy, and were both determined to stick by the decision to pass for the night. But there were some second thoughts on my part, as I saw you stripped to your black tights and bra. I snapped a few photos to share with our reader(s) later. And of course after the photos were taken, I could not help feel you through your tights.

And when you pressed against me in the closet, unbuttoned my cowboy shirt and undid my belt, you knew what effect you were having on me, laughed and backed away. That was kind of you mistress, not to intentionally make me hard only to make me chill until morning.

I did ask for permission to worship a bit, and knelt on the floor, sliding my mouth against you through the tights, taking in your scent. But you ultimately said “No Mas”, apparently having hit your orgasm capacity for the day. I took satisfaction on a day’s work well done.

But now it is morning, and I am more than anxious to start again.

Love, your Slave.

Mistress Tests Her Slave's Memory

Dear Mistress,

You have my cock very well trained by now. Once an hour or so goes by after my last release with you, it seems that any physical contact between it and your soft skin, makes it begin to tingle and go full. This presents a problem when we sleep the way we both like, me pressed against you in our “little” double bed. My tingling cock woke me again this morning, so I had to role over and, eventually, climb out of bed in these pre-dawn hours. Might as well do my homework and leave you to your beauty rest, before we take the surly teens back up for more skiing today.

Last night I got to dance with you at that nearby roadhouse, where we enjoy watching the locals do their two-step twirl to the steel guitar. It was hard to miss the cowboys admiring you, Mistress. We had a long, enjoyable evening drinking wine and eating enchiladas with our Texas friends.

We both were tired when we headed home, and I assumed it was one of those evenings when we would “wait until morning”. After all, we had some very satisfying activity in the morning, and again during our rest time after our ski day. Shouldn’t twice a day be enough?

You were wearing your black tights under those tight velvet pants, finished off with some black cowboy boots. Sort of a sexy Annie Oakley of she had ever discovered her Domme side.

After I finished some end of day tasks, I came into our room to find you stripped down to the tights and a black strapless bra. Nice. Sexy.

I stripped down to my briefs, and we found ourselves squeezed into our narrow walk-in closet, where I was hanging up my pants and jacket, and you were stowing your boots. You had an intriguing look on your face. Was your mind on an email you had checked? Maybe, that was just my imagination. But mischief now was clearly on your agenda.

Suddenly, I found myself pressed against you, your back to the wall, and we kissed deeply. I like the feel of you through those tights, and my hand could not help but slide between your legs. You seemed damp and squishy, Mistress, and you sort of melted into me when my hand did that.

I asked you why this sudden change of trajectory. I thought our plan was to “pass” until morning. Instead of answering, you slid your fingers into my shorts, and laughed at how hard I was becoming.


We kissed some more in the closet, our fingers doing their work, before we headed for bed. So much for our plan to “pass”.

I like it when you keep those black tights on for a while. And while I stroked you through them, you on your back, me at your side, you wondered out loud how what it was that seemed to turn us both on about your desire to submit to another man.

“Let’s talk about it while you make me come”, you directed.

So we talked as my hand did the work you had directed. You mentioned my posting from back in November, about the qualifications and exploits of a prospective part-time Dom. Someone who would do the things that a well trained Slave just can’t do, when it comes to scratching that submissive itch that you had discovered.

As my fingers slid over you, first slowly and then with more urgency, the panel of your tights began to soak through, and the scent of your arousal began to cloud my brain. Of course the friction of my cock against your thigh contributed to that clouding. But despite my obvious mental impairment, you insisted that I recite from memory the little shopping list from that posting – the one that your prospective Dom unearthed as he researched your candidacy for submission.

I doubt I was able to do a very good job, but here is the list again, in case you want to test how well I did last night as we both drove each other crazy:




If E has really vanished for now as a source of amusement in your life, we need to consider finding you someone else with sufficient imagination, physical attributes and commitment who might indulge your occasional need to surrender control better than this humble Slave. Though I do will gladly act as a surrogate as best I can, particularly on our Sunday mornings, it’s pretty obvious that I can’t be trusted in the full time Dom role in your life. Plus it’s so very nice to be your Slave. Who would want to give up a role of a lifetime? (think Jason Alexander here).

Finding the perfect part-time Dom for you will not be easy. But the effort in itself might be fun. And there is no deadline.
Here are some of the attirbutes to consider, from my observations of your psyche and desires, though I am probably blending in some qualities that would turn me on to hear about or observe should HE be found. You should feel free to edit or add as you see fit:

1. He would be in the 40-60 age range, well educated, handsome, taller than 5’ 10”.
2. He would “get” you, be interesting to talk to, with musical tastes ranging more towards Neil Young or Classical than Prince or Rap.
3. He would be willing and able to interact with you on a regular basis, either by phone, email, or text, and would arrange for you to meet him in person at least every few months, if not more frequently.
4. He would demand your total submission to him when in his presence, requiring you to address him as “Sir” or “Master”, in person or on the phone.
5. He would administer spankings with his hand or a hairbrush to put you in the proper frame of mind for such submission, or to punish you if you get out of hand or impertinent.
6. He would tie your hands, and make you kneel to suck his cock.
7. He would tie you to the bed or other objects, to give him ready access to your delicious body.
8. He would be so attracted to your lovely body and charming personality that you could tell, despite his stern demeanor, that he was dying to take you the moment he laid eyes on you.
9. He would take you whenever and however her desired – whether over his desk, or in the middle of the night, when you were fast asleep.
10. He would make you kneel and play with yourself while he was “working” on more important matters.
11. He would make you beg for the privilege of coming, but not always give you what you beg for.
12. You would be so compelled by his authority that whenever you heard the chime of a text from him, or saw an email pop up from him, your cunt would go liquid.
13. He would establish rules for you when not in his presence, involving times when you could or could not touch yourself. Or requiring you to email him what you were thinking when you touched yourself at his direction.
14. He would call from time to time and demand that you touch yourself during the conversation, though he would not always give you the permission to come.
15. If you please him and he decides to make you his part-time slave, He would want to put his mark on you, either through a discretely placed tattoo or piercing.

Am I missing something? Is anything on the list not what would help you scratch that itch, Mistress?

In reviewing the list, it’s obvious I missed a few items in our frenzy last night. At some point you said “I want to feel your hand on my skin”, so I helped you strip off those now soaked black tights, and began anew on you. We both seemed to be dragging out the process as you built to one of those mega-orgasms involving sobs, tears and a total emotional surrender to the moment.

Through the tears you said, “Fuck me, Slave”, and I did, in no rush to finish the job, just enjoying your warm cunt, your labored breathing, and the texture of your neck and shoulders pressed against my face. When I finally begged you for permission to come, you were generous, and I exploded into you, my desperation finally brought to a merciful end in waves that seemed to last and last.

Glad we did not stick with Plan A, Mistress.

Your devoted slave.

Mistress's Feet Get Special Attention

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.