Mistress, its Cold Outside.

Dear Mistress,

Merry Christmas, Mistress. My first one as your Slave. Hopefully many more, “if the fates allow”, as the song goes.

The house is quiet, our little tree lit up and the lights still blinking outside flashing off the chimisa bushes, where its supposed to be 4 below right now. I posted your favorite Christmas carol for this season on our Twit page to share with all those curious “followers”.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VcKRWlWG5Z8
We got a nice comment from a couple keeping up with our blog who say they live near a ski area. Hope their Christmas is warm, cozy and kinky. I wonder if they are near us?

(BTW, we love comments, and have struck up some interesting private email chats with some of you. So keep them up, and don’t be afraid to reach out to our email address, other than that crazy truck driver from Toledo. Got no use for his world view).

Soon the two teens will be up to unwrap their presents. I have two for you we probably can’t show the children. But I look forward to trying then out with you, maybe on our upcoming switch Sunday, unless you use them on me first.

Yesterday was filled with skiing, cooking, attending an ancient ritual, and then entertaining our friends for a Christmas Eve dinner of Chili, salad and apple crisp. It was fun to sit in front of the fire, at your feet and massage them. Last night Joe kept his hands under control. His wife must have spoken to him about keeping his hands to himself.

While we were too busy / tired for our typical afternoon and evening sex activity, it’s worth reporting on how our morning unfolded.

I did my homework, and then worshipped your scrumptious cunt for a while as you read. You came with those little jerks and gasps once you put your laptop down. Then I came up for air and shared the details of my dream.

It’s a subject I am not writing about for reasons we have discussed. But it did seem to get us both going. I asked for permission to fuck you, and my fingers buried inside you suggested you were more than ready. Instead, you directed me to lie back, and proceeded to make me even harder with your lips and tongue, until I had to beg rather than simply ask permission. Soon I was deep inside you, and enjoyed the complement you gave me about how very hard I was. It seems I have been hearing that from you a lot lately, but a guy in his 50’s never tires of that sort of flattery.

After we spent ourselves, I made us some coffee, and we settled into bed to read a bit before getting to work on our food prep. As you climbed out of bed, you commented on the sight of my cock, flashing out of the dark terry robe I was wearing. Standing over me in a particularly dominant pose, you reached out to fondle it, and, of course, it stirred, though it had only been about 30 minutes since our last extravaganza.

Wearing that short, silky black top with no panties, you straddled me me, grinding yourself against my cock until it hardened more for you.

I assumed you would take me that way, as is your right. But you apparently wanted to make sure I was even harder, to suit your exacting standards, before allowing me inside. You abruptly climbed from bed, and retrieved that long black glove you use to torment me. Your hand, now encased in soft leather, cupped my balls and stroked me. Soon you had a tool more than ready to please you.

You mounted me then, and took your time to pump yourself against until you had a shuddering orgasm, then reached behind me with your gloved hand to clasp my balls and order me to come that way.

It’s always a bit harder for me that way, but very, very satisfying. But this was my second performance of the morning. I was oh so close, and oh so desperate, but just could not make it to the top of that particular mountain, despite the teasing of your glove and the view I had of your strong and sensuous body writhing above me.

Ultimately you showed me mercy and let us flip positions. Soon I came with great relief, with your permission. Yet I probably do deserve some punishment for failing to deliver when and as ordered, Mistress.

Now its time to get ready for our Christmas morning, but I hope we get to give one another a special Christmas present before the teens wake to demand their gifts.

Love, your Slave.

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.