Mistress swept into my office yesterday afternoon around 4:30. It was a day off for our staff, but Slave had work to do. So Mistress’s arrival was a welcome break from a quiet if busy day.
We had arranged to meet at my office before two evening engagements: a political event with our Governor, and then a museum opening with one of Mistress’s clients.
Molly was elegantly attired in the flowing dress shown in the photo, finished with her winter time uniform of black tights and boots.
Muy Mistressy!
Fortunately, her busy schedule allowed just enough time for worship. I was not allowed to kiss her lips because she had perfectly applied her lipstick for our evening’s activities. But I was allowed to bury my face between her thighs.
I pressed the chair against the door, dropped a downy blanket onto the seat (I have noticed a growing stain on the upholstery in recent weeks), and fell to my knees. My cock hardened as I took my time rubbing my face and mouth along the inside of her thighs until I could taste her juices begin to flow through the panel at the apex of her thighs. Then I asked permission to pull her tights down. No undies obstructed me, as my mouth moved in to taste and tease her. But soon she was jerking her hips against me, stifling a moan as she came. As I looked up I saw the delightfully contented face of a well pleasured Mistress smiling smugly down at her Slave.
There was no time for Slave’s pleasure until we arrived home late last night. But at the political event at a stately home overlooking the River, I could still taste Mistress on my mouth and lips as we chatted with the Gov about his upcoming election campaign. And of course I enjoyed the envious glances of the political class who still can’t believe that old Mick still has such a lovely Molly on his arm after all these years.
Mick and Molly are back in River City after their quick but busy wedding weekend in the Windy City. I am back to my work day routine, up early, the steel ring already surrounding my cock and balls, doing my homework, and looking forward to some time between the sheets with my Mistress before heading off to work.
Yesterday involved a brunch with the wedding party and that long slow drive across the heartland that always seems longer on the return. With the teens on board it was hard to get too salacious, even though their ears were tuned to their i-pods.
On our drive, Mistress did trade some emails with one of our followers, M, who has been encouraging her to take a firmer hand with her Slave. That is prrobably good advice. It’s nice to compare notes with some fellow travelers. If any of you are lurking out there who want to share or comment, we love that and welcome you to the table.
When we arrived home and unpacked, Mistress showed me the long shoehorn she lad liberated from our Hotel suite (the entry on Saturday shows it laying across my bottom). She draped it over the chair right next to the bed so it is handy for any punishment emergency. It is much more unobtrusive than the riding crop discretely tucked away in our closet. Or the Hitachi Magic Wand still plugged in at bedside when we arrived home. Wonder what the cleaning lady thought of that?
Seeing the shoehorn reminded me that I had failed to mention to our reader(s) the punishment I received Saturday afternoon, when Mistress had a brief break from all of her Maid of Honor duties. Slave had some time to himself, and spent it on a walk along the crowded Avenue of Shopaholics, before returning to read the new book “Game Change” (In his spare time, Slave is a political junkie.) Expecting Mistress’s return, I did my reading naked so she would have full access to me. This always pleases her.
Mistress came back to the room for a rest and saw the shoehorn, still laying next to the bed. She could not resist demanding that her Naked Slave roll over and present his ass for punishment. As she thwacked me firmly, she pointed out that I had not been attentive enough to her at the Rehearsal dinner the night before. She did not like it that a few times she looked up during a conversation I was not standing next to her, being attentive, deferential and adoring. And there was one time when a cousin asked her if she needed her drink freshened before I did.
All points well taken. Hopefully I did better that night at the wedding reception. At least if I did not, I have not yet heard about it. But with the shoehorn so close at hand, it may just be a matter of time.
A reddened butt does have a tendency to focus a Slave’s attention. And when Mistress was finished, she used the shoehorn to prod me over onto my back, and then poke at my already hardening cock until its dimensions pleased her.
By then she had stripped away her jeans and allowed me to worship at the delicious and flowing juncture of her thighs. The little whimpers I was able to induce with my tongue and lips made me feel that I had redeemed myself. But as I licked I heard her rustle and then she said. “Let’s get a picture of this”. Her I-phone made that little faux click and she snapped away. Hopefully she will approve of the cropped version that shows a bit of her luxuriant fur.
Mick and Molly wandered back from the wedding of the decade around midnight. It seemed like one of those nights where the tired adventurers would take a pass: a long day of photos, polite chatter, open bars and food, food, food.
The surly teens were already tucked away on their half of the hotel suite. Mistress removed her well fitted maid of honor dress, likely never to see the light of day again.
Slave stripped away the Tux, bow tie, dress shirt, studs and links. All that was left was the tight hard plastic cock ring Mistress had instructed him to put on much, much earlier in the day.
The cock ring had not been particularly bothersome through the day’s events. A crowd that featured lots of women of undetermined age with colored hair who tithe to their plastic surgeons had not been a source of stimulation. And Mistress was required to be charming to all those long lost and now aging cousins and high school friends who showed for the big event. She had no time to taunt or tease her Slave.
The only veiled reference to our peculiar relationship was one that Mistress made to a male cousin, about her age, concerning marriage: “After all these years, we have learned that marriage only works when one partner takes charge. Don’t you agree Mick?”, she asked. “Of course”, I replied. The cousin seemed to think that Mistress meant her older, grayer husband was the Boss. But I set him straight by commenting, without a drip of sarcasm, “I live to serve her.” He seemed confused.
By now, Mistress was down to the nude panty hose she had worn under her wedding costume. I am one who enjoys the feel and texture of the silky nylon encasing a woman’s legs. But then Mistress pointed to a unique feature. “I discovered this earlier tonite, Slave. There is an opening where your cock goes….” Obviously, I was intrigued. She offered to sleep in them for our morning time play. Who was I to object?
The lights out, we rolled toward each other in bed. Mistress acknowledged she was tired and a bit tipsy. And I had no plans for anything other than the sleep of the dead. But Mistress’s tricked out pantyhose and my now tightening cock ring conspired against our initial intentions.
It started with my semi-innocent desire to feel the opening she had pointed out. As my fingers found, then lingered within her soft folds, it was obvious that Mistress was responsive, her hips making those involuntary squirms and shuffles that found a rhythm with the fingers sliding against her.
At first I pulled away, my curiosity satisfied. Mistress seemed cool with that, and sleep was tempting. There would always be morning, only a few hours away.
But that’s where the ring came in. My cock had hardened some as I explored Mistress’s cunning opening. Once hard, the ring conspired to keep it that way, the blood trapped by the ring that seemed to get tighter by the minute. There was only on way to resolve that problem.
Mistress was on her tummy now, restless but seemingly committed to sleep. I slid on top of her, and she was amused by the hard cock pressed against the crack of her well contained ass. My fingers squirmed beneath her and she responded nicely, soon rolling over and giving me permission to enter. ‘But you will have to do the work tonite, Slave.” Soon she expressed her pleasure with how hard my cock had become with no effort of her own.
It was a snap to find the opening in her hose and slide inside. As we fucked away I tried to raise her temperature a bit by talking about her quest for a part time Dom. She conceded in her passion that her body responds to the idea of being taken by another with a firm hand, someone who will firmly train her to please him, and treat her like the little slut she sometimes longs to be. These concessions were made in a voice laden with so much heat that I was grateful our suite was protected by a sprinkler system.
At some point she demanded that I roll over. The woman who had seemed so ready for sleep minutes earlier was a tigress now, taking her pleasure from me as she pounded her cunt onto my throbbing, ringed cock and balls. It hurt a bit, but Mistress’s pleasure was the priority now. She came hard, gasping, sobbing, the tears flowing until she was exhausted and gave up, rolling over for me to use her as I saw fit.
Fatigue and the by now almost painfully tight ring demanded that I take a long slow road to my own release. When it came (with permission granted) it was in a series of spurts that had me groaning with relief, and Mistress with gratitude that she could finally get some sleep.
Mick and Molly are on the road this weekend with the surly teens for a family wedding. In the windy city, things are a bit milder than one would expect in the depths of January. Though the cold fog hanging over the lakefront hardly seems beckoning.
We arrived here mid-afternoon on Friday, ready for some R & R. The teens hit the Avenue for a shopping expedition . with some well husbanded Christmas cash, and the plan was for Mick and Molly to hit the bed in our suite.
Necessity being the mother of invention, Mistress was happy to discover a useful tool in our suite, one of those oversized shoehorns that she displayed to me, smacking it across her palm.
Slave had already shed his jeans and briefs, and Mistress told me to roll over and prepare for my punishment. I had the temerity to ask what I was being punished for, and was told that I had failed to be vocal enough in describing my love and devotion for her in recent days. Sadly, she was right. It’s been a crazy week with work and a family health crisis. My priorities have been a little skewed.
The hard wooden shoehorn made a very efficient tool when it came time for her to have me focus better on my devotion. She smacked me about a dozen times, pretty darn hard. I did a better than usual job of maintaining my composure, squirming and whining a bit. Crying out as she hit her crescendo. And of course the blood flowing to the wounded area also seemed to flow to my hardening cock.
When she was done, Mistress rolled me over and used the long wooden rod to poke at my cock, helping it stretch out before her fingers completed the task of converting it to a tool that would serve her own purposes.
Before she exploited me further, she picked up her I-phone and made me roll over again, laying the rod across my red ass. The snap of her camera only re-enforced my humiliation. And then she ordered me to post it for our readers to see what happens when a Slave fails to make her Mistress the focus of his attention at all times.
