Yesterday was our last day of skiing here at our undisclosed location. Slave and Mistress survived their 13th run on their 13th ski day of the holiday season, and decided to quit before the ski gods conspired to throw a boarder in their path.
It’s always hard for us to leave here, with or without surly teens. Our little mountain cabin is a place where the challenges and trials of the real world and all its pressures - work, school, the demands of extended family - go on hiatus. And as our merry band of followers have come to learn, the sex is pretty satisfying too. So we will store away the skis and boots, hang up the bolo tie, pack the snake skin boots and drive off today, with an early flight to catch tomorrow morning.
But what about the “good parts?”, you ask. Not to worry.
Mistress wanted to get me in the proper frame of mind for our return to the real world, where she feels the need to exercise some tighter control over her Slave. While riding a lift yesterday, she put me on notice that I was due for a cropping at the end of the day. “What did I do wrong, Mistress?” I asked, genuinely curious, since I had strived to meet her expectations. “Oh, you’ve been a good Slave this last week….but you need to be reminded every now and then about the consequences of misbehavior.”
Once back to our mini-“spread”, the skis were unloaded and tucked away. Mistress and Slave adjourned to the bedroom, sealing off the teens. After seeing to our correspondence and enjoying some comments and e-mails from a few readers, Mistress directed me to strip and lay on the bed, face down. I knew what was coming.
Mistress took her time at this point, dealing with some packing and teen demands, as I lay there, contemplating my fate. It was a good 5-10 minutes of fruitful mediation for me, that had my cock stirring. Finally, Mistress turned her attention to me, crop in hand.
She was wearing a short black item of lingerie I had gifted to her for Christmas, sans panties. It seemed I could smell her arousal as she wielded the crop and proceeded to slap me with it across the ass.
I asked again, “what is this punishment for Mistress””.
“I don’t really need a reason, do I?”
Of course, she was right. A good cropping from time to time is a reminder to a Slave of his/her submissive state. It reminds me how comforting it is to be under the dominance and control of my loving, and delightfully sexy wife.
Mistress was light handed, gave me about 15 thwacks, and then relented. I could tell that she was not in a full corrective frame of mind. It was not nearly as severe a cropping as I had received after she saw my eyes stray toward a woman at the airport on our trip out here.
Punishment concluded, Mistress had me turn over and proceeded to probe my cock with the tip of her crop. She seemed to enjoy watching it thicken for her, an effect enhanced by the blood flowing to my now tender ass.
Mistress lay down next to me on the bed, using her fingers to bring me to high alert. I asked for permission to lick her, which she granted. After a few minutes of soft and delicate ministrations, she came with her hips thrusting against my mouth. But I decided to keep up my licking and sucking until she demanded that I stop. The result appeared to be a series of delicious mini-orgasms, signaled by the ragged breathing and little moans of ecstasy that are music to a Slave’ ears. Finally Mistress grabbed me by the hair and pulled me away.
“Are you ready to fuck me now, Slave”, she sighed, the edge of command in her voice having slipped a bit.
Of course, I was more than ready, and mounted her, my cock sliding easily into her. She grunted with the force of my assault, and complemented me on how hard I was.
As I increased the tempo and was approaching my point of begging. She said, “I want to be on top.” And of course I put my own release on hold, rolling off her and letting her mount me.
There is something very special in the way Mistress takes her pleasure this way. She has the control to move her hips against me at just the right pace and intensity to bring herself to one of those special explosions that make a Slave feel that his cock should get a nomination for best supporting actor.
This time Mistress came writhing against me more quickly than normal. But as she rested against me, catching her breath, I asked her to imagine that she was required to ride the cock of some would be Dom, her hands tied behind her back. This thought got Mistress slowly moving against my still rampant cock one more time, and she slowly built her self into a frenzy, until she was rubbing furiously against me. She erupted again with a stunning intensity before collapsing on me and rolling over and off.
This was my signal to resume the upper position, and she soon was responding affirmatively to my request, “Mistress may I come”. And of course I did. Both exhausted, we nodded off, to wake as the last light of the sun faded on the mystical mountain outside our window.
Mistress and Slave had a “date night” for our last evening here, dinner at a funky organic restaurant filled with the local bohemian types, then a drink at a local bar listening to a funky blues band. We came home full and satisfied, drifting off after wading through only a few pages of our books. ( I did take some photos as Mistress undressed and share one with this posting).
But around 4 am, Mistress was awake. I could tell she was troubled and asked her what was up. “A bad dream” she reported. Supposedly Slave told her he was bored with her at some suburban restaurant back home. I reassured her that her Slave was more devoted than ever. And she should have known the dream was bogus, if only because Slave is allergic to suburban restaurants.
Mistress was lying on her stomach, with her Slave pressed against her side. But since our switch day had already arrived I did something a Slave would not ordinarily do: I slid my hand between her legs from behind and began teasing and probing with my fingers until her hips began pressing against my hand with obvious desire. Soon I had her shuddering and moaning for me. She rolled over, apparently ready to be taken. But my fingers were not done yet, and I rubbed and prodded some more, until she came one more time for me with more shudders and moans.
I then rose to take my prize, sliding into her as she gasped. She asked me if I thought she was “sexy”. “Of course, silly one”. “Why”, she demanded.
So I told her how very sexy she was: her delightful body, her wicked mind, her responsiveness and imagination; That she would make someone a lovely “whore” or “slut” if given the opportunity, She is aroused at the slightest provocation. And once aroused she is inclined to think with her cunt, not her mind. Now that is how this Slave defines sexy.
As this talk proceeded I continued to pump into my Mistress, my hands pressing her arms down over her head, with an intensity that someone described in a far more sober venue as “the fierce urgency of now.” Mistress came again with those little cries and moans. And finally my time had come, and with permission.
So at least there was a dividend from Mistress’s bad dream.