On Command?

Dear Mistress,

It was another laid back day of skiing and relaxing with friends and family as our year comes to a placid, yet torrid, end. This morning’s entry may be a little abbreviated because of some annoying work raising its head. What’s with these folk who can’t simply say: “we’ll deal with it in the New Year.”

My bottom was still tingling yesterday morning from the thwacking of the night before. And I was particularly horny. It had been  more than 12 hours since that cropping! I remember waking with an achingly hard cock, but did not want to disturb your beauty rest.

After I did my homework yesterday morning you called me to be. You were wearing one of the items I got you for Christmas, shown here for our reader(s).  We then re-established our proper routine: you reading, me buried between your legs. So by the time you set aside your computer, you were wet and ready for me to take you over the edge. When you were satisfied, you gave me permission to fuck you, and it seemed I came more quickly than normal, with permission, of course. I hope you did not feel cheated. I hate to leave you with an orgasm ratio of less than 2 to 1.

We abbreviated the ski day due to cold weather and a cranky boarder girl, so got home mid-afternoon ready for our “rest”. Once we finished the food prep for the evening (Mistress has a scrumptious lasagna recipe) we closed the bedroom door behind us. Settled into bed with some hot tea, we reviewed our correspondence, and particularly Desiree’s description in Dom/sub/Love of her being able to “orgasm on command” by her Master. http://blog.domsublove.com/2009/12/29/surrender-to-master/

 As we shall see, that seemed to inspire us an hour or so later.

Once our prurient reading and e-mailing was done, you directed me to undress and reached for your long black glove. It’s a particular treat to feel its soft texture glide along my hardening shaft. As my mind reeled with arousal, you switched to your practice regime of using mouth and tongue to drive me even crazier. I guess this was my reward for enduring the cropping the night before with some degree of courage.

My fingers had found my way , to those soft, juicy parts between your legs, and soon had you tipping over the edge.  You then succumbed to my pleas to let me fuck you.

I slid inside where you were wet and welcoming, your gloved hand cupping my balls and positioning me the way you wanted. As we worked one another to the brink, I asked you to consider the type of training by some potential Dom that would be required to make you come on command as Desiree had described. WE discussed the code words and  directions that would make you drip for him without a touch. These thoughts seemed to be compelling, Mistress. I lost track of how many times you came as we went through these options, all of which seemed to make you even more responsive to the cock pumping into you.

Finally these thoughts also had me begging for permission, which you generously granted. We ended in a sodden heap, and it was nap time.

The day ended with another, more romantic interlude: us dancing to a favorite balladeer, in an old Rathskeller at the top of the Mountain, the snow falling hard and heavy outside.  Hard to think about returning to the River City in a few more days.

Slave gets a Good Hard Cropping

My bottom still tingles from Mistress’s hard and well deserved cropping yesterday evening. What put me in Mistress’s bad graces?

The day started on a good note for this Slave. I rose early, worked on my morning homework, then awaited Mistress’s call back to bed. As I climbed into bed, the room was still dark, awaiting the sunrise over the mountains behind our little retreat. We pressed close, and found that our quickening mutual desires would break our morning routine – rather than Mistress reading my work product while I suckled between her legs, she simply went for my quickly hardening cock. After we were done, she graded my work, and approved the alluring photo that was later posted. I hope our reader(s) enjoyed the sight of her lovely ass, encased in lacy black panties Slave got Mistress for Christmas.

After a day of skiing with too many Texans on crowded slopes, we collected the teens and the boyfriend and headed back to our humble shelter, where the “grown-ups” retreated to their bedroom for our late afternoon “rest” period.

First, we reviewing and responding to some lively emails from some of our newly found friends. Our Male Slave friend from the North had asked for details about what Mistress had speculated about the night before on the subject of he and his Mistress joining us here in the future, sans teens. Our response: “That’s subject to the Mistress/slave privilege. But use your imagination.”

His imagination (and our imaginations about him and his Mistress) quickly led to some robust activity between Mistress and Slave. Mistress directed me to insert that little white probe into my ass, no doubt because she likes what it does to my cock and to her Slave’s state of mind. After practicing the use of her mouth to reduce slave to a begging fool, she allowed me to fuck her. So I did ,while extending the tale of our friends’ fantasy visit in ways that seemed to make her very, very orgasmic. So, an assist goes to M and B.

When we finished, I fell into a deep sleep, and at some point Mistress wandered off to the shower. I woke after the sun had set. We still had some time before our dinner engagement, so Mistress read and answered emails for a bit, as Slave rested beside her. She called my attention to a photo on her laptop screen sent by a friend, that included Mistress posing with a married lesbian couple – colleagues from back in River City.

Here’s where Slave got into trouble. I noted how strikingly beautiful the woman in the photo next to Mistress was. And she is. But my mistake was not to also mention how beautiful and attractive Mistress was in that same photo. And she definitely was. (wish we could show you the photo, but national security concerns prevent it).

Naturally, this angered Mistress. She understands that all men are stupid, and that a wandering eye is different than a wandering cock. But she has every right to expect her Slave to worship her exclusively in every way, whether her body or her image. To the extent I had suggested that she was somehow less beautiful than the woman posing next to her, I had failed in my duties to her. My attempts at digging out of the hole I had dug for myself were futile.

I went to the shower then, as Mistress stewed. When I dried off, she considered my punishment: should she require me to wear that anal probe out to dinner? I suggested that could get a little yucky. She considered the possibilities and agreed. Then she told me to fetch the riding crop. I handed it to her with some anticipation / trepidation. I know that a good cropping has a wonderful impact on my attitude when it’s over. But it hurts like hell when in progress.

She ordered me to lay face down on the bed, hands over my head. The radio was turned on and up, to muffle any sounds that might confuse the teens in the other room. Then she removed her underwear, pressed them to my face and told me to open wide. Stuffing her lacy, mauve undies into my open mouth, she explained that she did not want me to disturb the children with my whines of complaint.

As she began to thwack my ass with the crop she cross-examined me:

“Slave, do you find other women attractive?”. When I answered with a muffled no, shaking my head for emphasis, She called me a liar, and gave me a few more thwacks in earnest. I relented, and attempted to express, through the panties in my mouth, that, yes, sometimes other women do catch my eye.

“Slave, do you want to fuck any other women”. I answered “No”, and again she called me a liar, thwacking away, demanding that I tell the truth. But I did not change my story on that one, insisting that I do not want to fuck other women. And it’s true. That seems to be out of Slave’s system. I am quite content as a one Mistress man. (Though Mistress does have a lend/lease right in our contract. ) After a few more blows with the black leather crop, Mistress seemed to accept this explanation.

When her questioning was done, Mistress added a few more strokes for good measure, then put down the crop. My punishment seemed to make her feel better. She lay down beside me, gently rubbing my stinging bottom, assuring me of her love. And as my pulse began to slow, my cock began to respond in the way it often does after Mistress’s punishments. I guess I am just another one of Pavlov’s dogs. Mistress remarked about its thickening, and handled it a bit, but she was satisfied from our earlier efforts and felt no need to indulge me further. Though I was a bit frustrated, I was more than happy to be back in Mistress’s good graces.

She did photograph my bottom, and directed me to post it with today’s entry. “A little humiliation is good for you, Slave.” So there you have it, after a bit of additional cropping. My right cheek. A bit red and puffy. Believe me, you don’t want to see the whole thing, crack and all.

Soon we were dressed and out the door with the teens, for a festive evening of friends, drinks and dancing. But throughout, the tingling of my bottom reminded me that I needed to be a good Slave, or face the consequences.

Mistress Hoped Slave Forgot our "Switch" Day

 Sunday morning was an early rise for this Slave. I wanted to finish an entry started the day before (my uncompleted homework assignment), and bring our readers up to date with Saturday’s activities. It was a no-ski day because of a road trip required to pick up surly teen number 1’s boyfriend at the  airport….about 3 hours away.

When my work was done and Mistress called for me from our bedroom, I dutifully responded, and she opened up her laptop to enjoy my work, while I positioned myself between her legs. 

Mistress got some new lingerie from her Slave for Christmas, and she was wearing some new lacy black panties that matched her top (see the photo). It was one of those mornings when I was in no hurray to remove her panties. I just pressed my mouth and tongue against her there, using the slightest motion to agitate her as she read my account, that featured the stimulus we derived from new  found friends in blog-land.

When Mistress put down her computer, she seemed surprised when I did not “finish my job”, but instead retreated to a bathroom cabinet, where our little portable Bondage kit was stored. It was our “switch” day. “Oh…I was hoping you had forgotten”, she said, but her smile suggested otherwise.

AS she languished in bed, I fastened red leather cuffs to her wrists, securing  them with tiny locks. I then clipped her wrists together overhead, and used a handy rope to secure them to an eyebolt screwed to the wooden head of our bed. (I sometimes wonder what folks who borrow our little mountain cabin think of these little accessories, including the eyebolt screwed to a ceiling beam, or the riding crop hardly hidden in the closet).

Mistress was now on her stomach, her bottom available to me, still in those lacy black panties. With teens in our small house, I knew I had to keep the volume to a minimum, so I gently rubbed her ass until she was squirming nicely in anticipation of what was to come. It’s fun to keep Mistress guessing when I get the chance.

Then I began to spank her. Not particularly hard. It’s really not in me to inflict any real punishment on Mistress. That task will be left to the Master who steps  forward and tries to make Mistress submit to her.

But the spanking I did administer – interrupted with occasional forays with probing fingers between her legs – soon had Mistress squirming even more, and moaning into the pillow under her head.

I retrieved a small v-shaped silicone vibrator from our bag of tricks, and turned it on. Lifting back the panel of her black panties, I slid one end of the V  into her sopping cunt,  while the other end pressed between her outer lips. As her hips squirmed against the bed  with increasing agitation, Mistress was in position to make herself  come.

As she ground against the bed, hands still tied over head, I lay next to her, one hand still massaging her pert bottom, and asked her to consider what it would be like to be spanked hard and with purpose by someone who actually would make her beg for permission to come. That thought seemed to make Mistress even more agitated, and soon her grinding against the bed led to a moaning, thrashing orgasm which left her limp in her bonds, yet now begging, “Fuck me, Slave”.

My cock had been pressed against her hip as Mistress brought herself to orgasm, and I was more than ready to help Mistress roll over and accommodate her needs. Though I am her Slave, there is something compelling about having a woman of such beauty helpless before me, wet, writhing and begging for a good fucking. I took my time to position her, finally sliding off those black panties and then filling her in a way that seemed to please her.

At this point I was in no hurry, so took my time to force another orgasm from Mistress before asking “Mistress, may I come”. (I just can’t shed my Slave persona, even on our switch days…guess I really am a Sub Hubby at heart).

After recovering from our mutual stupor, I released Mistress from her bonds, and she resumed command.

Later that morning, we headed to the airport, teens in tow. Mistress fiddled with her I-Phone when reception was available, and commented (in M/ s code) that she had received charming photos from our new found friend to the North, M, who is also a Slave to his Wife’s desires.  She seemed interested.

Later, as I sat in the cell lot, and Mistress was in the airport retrieving boyfriend and his bags, she texted “M  has sent us a new story. Hot.” She was right, and I suspect what got Mistress particularly hot was M’s story about his earlier DOM-er days. Lots of spanking and strong handed sex. Something Mistress has a hankering to experience.

By the time we got back to our Cabin, sun was down and the moon lit up the snow fields. We helped boyfriend settle in, unpacked provisions for the next few days, poured glasses of wine, and retreated to the bedroom, leaving the rest of the place a Parent free zone.

After face-booking and reading the Sunday Times a bit, our talk turned to Mistress’s e-mailed invitation to our new friends to visit us some day at our undisclosed location (well, we have told them where we are, and it’s not so far away). Mistress speculated on how that sort of visit would evolve, and her thoughts even made this slave blush.

Of course, this speculation amounted to mental foreplay, as we closed our day with another session between our sheets, starting with Mistress brushing up on her oral skills, followed by more Slave begging for permission to slide inside. Mistress often threatens to make me come in her mouth, but then reconsiders. “Why waste a good, hard cock”, seems to be her philosophy. And who can blame her.

Link to a Story that our readers might enjoy....

A compelling story by a gifted writer....http://remittancegirl.com/?p=607