Every Picture Tells a Story

A few months back we started illustrating this page. Pictures seemed to make the page more visually pleasing. Plus, Slave enjoys showing off his Mistress. Mistress must have a bit of an exhibitionist thing going on somewhere inside, and seems flattered by the occasional comments of approval - Like the recent email that describes her bottom as very “spank-able”, and the accompanying offer.

Mistress also enjoys the occasional photo that adds to Slave’s humiliation: like the shot of my rosy bottom with that long hotel shoe horn draped across it. Yes, it is humiliating. Yes, it is a bit of a turn-on for Slave to grovel that way in public.

Mistress requires that she approve each photo of her that is posted. In my view, she has a very hot body. But she is vain, as any good Domme is I suppose, and wants to make sure the photos present her in the most flattering light. No surprise there. Plus, she guards certain key “parts” from public display. The private stash is much more explicit.

With both of us owning phones with cameras, and also a lovely Canon digital camera at our disposal, it’s easy to suggest a stop in the action occasionally to take a shot or two to share with our reader(s).

Yesterday, Mistress stopped by the office for some worship after lunch. She had called earlier to tell me she was particularly horny for me. That advance notice had me anticipating my chance to discharge a bit of that sexual energy.

We kissed chastely in order to avoid mussing her deep red lipstick. Then Slave pulled the chair over to the door, draped a blanket across it, and helped Mistress hike up her the dress, exposing those lovely black tights. Just then the chime on Mistress’s phone went off. A text message? Who could it be? Her would be Dom? She crossed the room to see who was messaging. Leaning over to check the message and showing me that wonderful bottom wrapped in tights, sans panties. I had to get that photo. Here it is.

Having resolved the matter, Mistress was back in the chair, Slave between her legs. We had a pleasant conversation about her lunch and our plans for the evening as I used my lips and tongue to please her. But since I had my stainless steel cage securely locked on, I knew that my own pleasure would be deferred until evening. No matter. It’s good to serve. Though I was more than a little frustrated when the taste of Mistress lingered on face and hands for the rest of the day.

On the way home that evening I called Mistress to give her my ETA, as she requires. She told me she was in a bit of a grumpy mood and had decided to have her feet “done”. All those days on heeled black boots can take their toll. A little pampering was in store. (Yes, Desiree, I know a good Slave should have learned to perform that simple task by now. I need to find an on line “how to” guide).

When Mistress returned, her feet were in her opened toe sandals, with freshly polished toes in dark red. She was wearing very tight jeans that showed off her curves nicely, with a black T-shirt.

“Would you like me to worship, Mistress.”

“Well, yes, Slave, of course. But there is a problem. I can’t take off my jeans until they dry”, pointing to her toes.

The jeans were too tight for me to properly fit my mouth between her legs, even if pulled to below her knees. So I suggested that Mistress slide them down a bit and lay on the bed. I retrieved our Magic Wand and lay next to her. As we talked through the afternoon’s developments, I gently applied the wand to her, through the lovely blue panties she was wearing. At some point, in mid sentence, Mistress came with a sudden jerk and moan.

“That’s a very efficient machine, Slave.”

The photo I took as her breathing steadied is below:

Mistress was still a bit annoyed (not at Slave…it’s a long story), and I understood. I offered to be punished if it would help her vent a bit. (Heck, she needs no excuse and it’s good therapy for me). But she passed on the cropping, deciding to leave me in my cage a little longer.

So we fed the teens, trying to draw them out on college choices to no avail. Once the dishes were done we retired to our room. Mistress worked on a blog for her business, I helped edit, and read the Times. Only after her work was done did she offer to unlock me. And who was I to say no.

Lights off, we made love passionately for some time to our mutual satisfaction. At some point, as I was using my lips on her lovely wet folds I reached for our crystal cock. But Mistress demurred.

“You don’t always need a gimmick, Slave.”

It’s nice to know that sometimes Slave au natural works just fine.

Slave Takes Charge For a While

With a wedding and travel, Mistress and Slave have gotten a little off schedule with our Sunday switch  – the day when the Slave gets to lord it over his loving Mistress for a change.

Quite frankly, the more I have adapted to my role as Slave, the less compelling I have been in my roll as the occasional Master. I can’t help but show my deference, and Mistress can’t help but call me Slave, even when she is tied to the bed and at my mercy.

On Saturday night, Mistress and I had been out late with friends. On the way home we had to stop at one of those sad suburban multiplexes parked in a sea of slow food franchise restaurants, where Surly teen two had gone to seem that bloated sequel to Titanic with a friend. Naturally, the movie was still lumbering on when we arrived, so Mick and Molly parked next to some SUV’s to await the teen’s text announcing her availability to be taxied home. We used the time to review and answer some emails (some from our adventurous friend M) but Mistress’s low cut top was a bit too tempting to her Slave. And since Sunday had already arrived, I took the liberty to help myself to Mistress’s lovely and generous breasts.

Those breasts seem more responsive than ever these days, and as I prodded and squeezed Mistress’s nipples became firm and hard and she turned to kiss me with a passion that seemed to have already spread to her squirming hips. While my mouth turned to work her nipples, my fingers found my way betweens the legs of her soft velvet pants. An I think I had Mistress close to the edge just as some high beams shined through our windshield, killing the mood.

“Guess the movie’s out”, I muttered, and Mistress moaned a bit in frustration, her thighs squeezing the hand that lingered between her legs, before letting go to let me turn the ignition key.

Soon the teen’s text was chiming and we were called to duty. We made our pick-up and arrived home long after midnight, normally past this seemingly boring couple’s bedtime. But the sparks kindled in the parking lot were not quite damped. 

Mistress’s lower back had been tender, due to all that spinning and biking. So I volunteered to apply the magic wand, for medicinal purposes only, of course.

I soothed her back at low speed, and Mistress seemed content. And we had agreed in advance that we would hold further “activity” until morning. So the “power tool” was shut down, the lights out, and Mistress and Slave settled into bed. But Slave was still a bit on edge. And it was Sunday…

Pressed against Mistress’s bottom, my cock would just not settle down. Lord knows I sort’a tried to get sleepy. But my fingers could not help but find their way between Mistress’s thighs. And she was still wet there. I plucked and prodded a bit, and Mistress’s lovely bottom was soon pressing more aggressively back against my by now very hard cock. 

I guess Mistress had stored up the memory of her near orgasm in the parking lot, so it seemed like only moments before she was bucking against my hand and gasping into her pillow.  And she was generous enough to let me take her then, before we finally fell asleep.

Sunday morning came, and I was up early, working on my homework, and enjoying the last episode of the comic now in exile via Hulu. I let Mistress sleep in (that was my prerogative on switch day). And when I finally heard her stirring, I brought up the papers, made us some coffee.

When Mistress finally indicated that she was ready to take her Sunday morning medicine, I know I would be a pushover Temp Master. I found out bag of goodies and locked the red wrist cuffs on her, using some rope to tie them, joined together to the little eyebolt screwed into our bed head.  Other leather cuffs joined her ankles together.

I rolled my little “Slave” for the morning, and proceeded to massage her firm and fleshy bottom until she was beginning to squirm just a bit. Then I proceeded with a relatively mild hand spanking, hardly enough to bring tears. Just enough to get the blood flowing to Mistress’s bottom.

As I administered the spanking, we talked about her on again, off again quest for a part-time Dom who could train and discipline her the right way, for real, not the pretend ministrations of her full time Slave. This always seems to get Mistress flowing all the quicker.

I interrupted the spanking from time to time with some gentler touches, and then cranked up the Magic Wand, still handy at bedside for further back therapy, before finally allowing Mistress to roll over onto her back.

To get better access to her, I un-cuffed her ankles, and then used my fingers  and lips to further arouse her, until my squirming little Slave was on the verge.  As I pulled away, she whined her frustration. But I had more in store.

I attached the large blue phallic attachment to the wand and pressed its head to Mistress’s rather juicy opening. It’s a big, full phallus and I took the time necessary to work it’s vibrating head into her inch by inch.

I enjoyed watching Mistress’s well exercised leg and stomach muscles strain and churn as she tried to get a better angle on the device that was driving her crazy. By now the large blue head had slid almost all the way inside  her,  but her clit was just barely missing out on the fun.

Mistress was pulling against her restraints over head, and straining with all her might to make the contact that she needed. And her Slave was toying with her. Delightful fun.

As I finally allowed her the contact that her body was desperate for, Mistress’s head was thrown back, her body churning, a deep and breathless moan sounding from deep in her chest. Oh, I got her good.

As she lay there panting in the afterglow, I turned off my tool and took my prize. Though she was still restrained, it seemed that the power dynamics had already shifted back where they belonged. And I was careful to ask her permission before I came with a roar of my own.

At her request I released Mistress. But through the day my mind kept coming back to the image of that desperate Slave straining for release. Some lucky Dom may have his hands full someday.

An Appointment with Mistress's Strap-On

On Friday night, Mistress put me on notice:

“ Tomorrow afternoon I’m going to fuck you in the Ass, Slave.”

It had been a couple of weeks since Mistress had deployed her starp-on.  I was punished last weekend in the windy city for forgetting to pack it for our wedding trip. That shoe-horn hurt.

Her advance notice always sends a ripple of humiliation induced arousal down my back, that settles into my balls, tightening them in anticipation. Mistress is learning how to press her Slave’s buttons with a cruel efficiency.

On Saturday morning, after I did my homework, I returned to bed when summoned. As Mistress read my entry I deployed our “crystal cock” (CC), a lovely, long, ribbed masterpiece, about 8 inches long, that we bought at a high end sex shop in Gotham about a year or so ago. Sliding under the covers, I licked her teasingly until her juices were flowing, then slowly slid the CC into her, moving it back and forth a bit in response to the undulations of her hips. The CC and my tongue soon brought Mistress to a lovely series of shuddering, moaning quakes that seemed to please her. And then Mistress gave me permission to take my reward.

Afterwards, we enjoyed a long bike ride in surprisingly moderate temperatures for Mid-January. Lunch was a surprise Birthday party for old friends, but on the way Mistress reminded me what I was in store for later that afternoon. “Are you ready, Slave?” 

Back home, after negotiating our drive schedule for the evening with one of the surly teens through a series of text messages (She was downstairs we were upstairs, far too big a distance to talk in person), Mistress slid into some alluring lingerie and then her strap-on.  The sight of her strong, luscious body ready to take  me that way always gets me going.  But I was to be denied a bit longer.

“First a Nap. Then your ass is mine, Slave”. She told me the time when I was allowed to wake her.

As she rolled over under the covers, she required me to press my naked, and by now thickening, cock against her soft bottom. I think she enjoyed the tease.  She knew by now I was more than anxious for her assault to commence.

I passed the time digging into the new political sensation, “Game Change”, wondering who was the bigger liar, John Edwards or Bill Clinton.  Unclear. But of the two, there is no doubt about who the BETTER Liar is.

At the appointed time I let my still full cock prod against Mistress a bit more insistently. She slowly woke, asking me to confirm the time.

As she rolled over toward me, I could feel the hard plastic of her strap-on poke against my belly. Her fingers slid down to insistently prod my cock into full attention. Mistress likes it nice and hard before she turns her attention to my ass.

“Get in position, My Slave.”

I did, pressing a pillow under my hips, to give her a better angle of attack. She made sure the tip of her phallus was positioned properly and slowly sank into me.

“How’s that Slave”.

My moan as she filled me gave her the answer. And the moans turned into the little whimpers that she likes as she increased the tempo of her thrusts into me.

As she fucked me, slowly at first, and then with less discipline as her own arousal became apparent, she cross examined me on why this turned me on so much, insisting that I answer her.   My less than cogent responses had something to do the unsubtle reminder that she is in charge, that I am her Slave, and that she can do anything and everything she wants to my body for her own pleasure.

At about this time in our dialog Mistress lost all control, pounding herself against my bottom and crying out as she buried her face into my shoulder. But she got a second win and continued to fuck me, now more slowly and deliberately until confirming that her Slave “had enough”.

Climbing from the bed, Mistress shed her strap on and told me to insert my little white probe as a surrogate for “her” cock. I did that, standing next to the bed, facing my reclining Mistress as she watched my cock twitch at eye level before her. 

The probe is a bit longer and fuller than Mistress’s strap-on, and seems to make my flesh and blood cock all the harder and more desperate. Reaching out, Mistress pulled my cock to her for closer inspection, and used her fingers and mouth on her standing Slave until she had me begging to fuck her for fear that my seed would be wasted on the bed linens.

Finally and with an amused tone Mistress allowed me to mount her. She laid back, no doubt tired from her exertions, allowing me to press her hands over her head, and feed on her firm nipple as I took my turn at filling her as completely as she had filled me moments earlier. By the time I was given permission to come, it was with a shuddering force that took both of us by surprise.

“Good Slave”, Mistress said as I rested, spent, on top of her.  It’s always nice to get positive feedback.

“

Mistress Likes to Tease

Mistress enjoys telling me about the men who flirt with her during the course of her day. It’s a reminder that under our contract she has retained the right to fuck anyone she pleases, with the understanding that she will share the details with me.

For reasons that are hard to articulate, when Mistress talks about her flirtations, or tells me that man she runs into is attractive to her, speculating about how it would be to suck his cock, it’s a huge turn on for me. That humiliation – the thought of my mistress be serviced by or serving other men and enjoying it - reinforces my status as her Slave. And that is a powerful thing.

Yesterday, when Mistress was sitting in her “throne” in my office, and I was on my knees, my face planted between her legs, sucking her juices through those alluring black tights, she talked about the man she had just spent lunch with at a meeting with a client.

“Someone flirted with me today, Slave”.

“Oh…tell me, Mistress” as I looked up briefly, seeing that “cat that ate the canary” look in her eye.

“Yes. The client may have me traveling some with him.”

“Where, Mistress?”, I asked returning to my task.

“Several big cities, possibly. He’s from D.C…said he’d take me to that restaurant we like so much when I come to town.”

By now, the combination of Mistress’s taste and scent, and her teasing words had my cock straining against the hard steel of the cage she had locked on me early that morning.

“What’s he like, Mistress?”

“Very Sophisticated. About my age. Attractice.“

By now Mistress was wet and squirming in the chair pressed against my office door, and I had her slide up a bit to let me pull down her tights to the tops of her black boots.

As we maneuvered her back into position, legs spread just enough for me to slide my mouth into her silky and very wet folds, I asked, “Does he want you Mistress?”

“Maybe, Slave.”

“And you? Did you imagine sucking his cock?”

Mistress’s seemingly affirmative response was a bit indecipherable, because my tongue and lips found the sweet spot that pressed her gently but firmly over the edge. Her hips bucked against me for a long 60 seconds or she tried with apparent success to conceal the sounds of her pleasure from my more industrious colleagues heard just beyond the door, where they were conferring on weighty matters.

Once she was satisfied and more composed, we stood, and her hand pressed against the hard steel of my cage through my navy dress trousers. My eyes shut and I quietly groaned at this frustrating contact . My cock was pressing painfully against its little prison.

“You like it when I can pleasure you here but can’t get anything in return, don’t you, Mistress?

“Of course, Slave. Wish I had the key?”

“Right now? Very much.”

“Would you actually do it in here? During work?

“Right now, I’d do you right across my desk, Mistress. If only….”

“Maybe I will surprise you some day”.

A Slave can only hope.