Last night, when Mistress and her Slave were having their way with one another, the subject of humiliation came up. It was after I had used my lips and tongue to bring Mistress to a series of little orgasms, and had mounted her (with permission, of course) for the main event.
Being taken down a notch or two is a powerful part of this whole D/s thing for us. Both of us are classic Type A types in many ways. Though I have mellowed over the years, its natural for me to “take charge” at a meeting of colleagues, or in my political and civic endeavors. It takes an effort for me to slide into a “back bench” role, as much as I admit it’s time.
Likewise, Mistress is a powerful presence in her work life and community endeavors, not just in the bedroom. Folks defer to her judgment, and not just because she is a stunner. She can intimidate with her thoughts and words as much as with her lovely bod and fashionable look.
The hidden (and somewhat surprising) thrill when I elected to submit to Mistress was the idea of surrendering my Type A personality and following her lead. It started with my obligation to ask for her permission to fuck her, and then to come when we have sex. She is no longer someone I can just “take”.
The expressed titles of “Mistress” and “Slave” help get us there, as well. And although those are private names, sometimes they inadvertently slip out in a public context, causing a blush and a rush.
The occasional spankings and croppings administered by Mistress, which make me squirm and whine a bit, certainly make the point.
And of course, when Mistress decides its time to use her strap-on …. Well that certainly turns Mick into a groveling fool.
This blog has enhanced my sense of humiliation too. There are a 100 or so hits most days, folks who now know us by our Mick and Molly names, and about my 2nd class status. We have even emailed with some of you.
Last week, when we met two of our new friends in the non-cyber world it was a humiliating little kick to share D/s war stories, including how we picked out my cage. Hearing Mistress call me her Slave, and being able to call Molly by her proper title in public had my cock straining against those stainless steel bars.
Now that Molly is trying out her own Part time Dom, I think she gets the humiliation buzz too.
Last night as I pumped a very hard cock into her, I asked Mistress if her new Dom got her to beg for a fucking:
“Yes, Slave….he did.”
“How did that feel, Mistress?”
“It was very …humiliating.”
By now both of us were getting close, and my thrusts had turned into a hard grind against the apex of Mistress’s thighs.
“And when you were ready, did you have to beg to come, Mistress?”
Yes….he made me beg.”
“Did you have to beg, like you make me beg, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave.”
“It is humiliating, isn’t it?”
“Yes….”
“That’s what makes it so hot though….”
“Yes, Slave….”
Mistress’s sudden moan and thrust as she came against me seemed to spring from her own recollection of that humiliating drill.
And when it was my turn, I did it with some bells and whistles.
“May I please come now, Mistress.”
AS we caught our breath in a sweaty heap, me still on top and inside of her, Mistress complimented:
“That was very good Slave ….. you said please and thank you.”
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
Mistress experiences the "cruise missile"
On Sunday mornings, Mistress likes to sleep in. And what type of Slave would interfere with that sort of simple pleasure.
When Mistress finally called down stairs for me, she was groggily waking from her slumber. We spent some time in bed reading our local paper, disappointed that the Times delivery man had failed us yet again.
Then it was time for me to exploit my Sunday “switch” privileges.
Now that Mistress has taken the first steps to submit to her new Dom, Slave is a little sheepish about the full bore “tie her up and spank her” Switch. Shouldn’t that be his privilege? If I get too assertive, even on Sunday mornings, will that confuse Mistress (and Slave) about our roles?
It may take a little while to work that out, but in the meantime, at least I can write a less domineering script for our Sundays. After we took the 10 minutes or so required to scan our local rag for what passes for “news” hereabouts, I tucked the paper away and announced that Mistress was going to experience our power tool this morning: the Hitachi Magic Wand, aka, WMO (weapon of mass orgasm).
Mistress had no objection, apparently relieved that she would not be spanked. She was still a little sleepy, after all.
Instead she lay back, and allowed me to shower her with kisses, as my hand used the WMO to massage her inner thighs. As I teased and pulled on her ripe nipples with my lips and teeth, the little white bulb on the machine slid more firmly against the parts that mattered. Mistress began to squirm and moan. She was getting close, but a little too quickly for my taste …. What was the rush?
I turned the machine off. She whined a bit. We continued to fondle though, my thigh sliding over hers, allowing her to pump her sopping cunt against me a bit. Enough to keep her hot, but hardly what she needed to get her self off.
I rolled away then.
“Where are you going, Slave?”, a bit of pout in her low, sexy voice.
“Time to accessorize.”
The WMO comes with a little attachment: A blue, phallic device with a bit of a curve at the end. Sort of a cruise missile variation, aimed at a woman’s g-spot if properly targeted.
I slid it in place, and re-started my engine. Vroom.
Mistress was very very wet, by now, so it was easy to slide the churning blue invader inside her.
“How’s that feel, Mistress.”
“Ohhhhh ….good, Slave.”
The blue tip pressed inside her, as I angled the device so that the base was vibrating close to but not exactly on her clit….she was getting a little crazy now.
“Did you like it when he made you beg, Mistress?”
“Yes Slave.” She mutters through her labored breathing. “Is that OK?”
“Of course, Mistress.”
Apparently I was not providing the pressure against her clit that Mistress now demanded. Her hand shot down to the WMO gripping it over my hand, pressing it harder against herself.
“Oh no, not yet, Mistress. Aren’t I doing a good enough job?”
I pulled back on the device, denying her the pressure she sought. Mistress moaned in frustration, her hips bucking up to meet the WMO.
“You’re driving me crazy, Slave”, she whined. “Why can’t I use my hand to help down there.”
“Why don’t you squeeze your nipples, Mistress.”
She obeyed, moving her hand away from the device, sliding her well polished fingernails to her breasts, toying with them delightfully, all the while her hips churning. I accommodated her needs by pressing the buzzing tool back into her, giving her a little more of what she needed.
After she had squeezed her engorged nipple a bit more, I relented. She seemed so very desperate.
Her hand shot back down, clinging to the Magic Wand, pressing it much harder than seemed comfortable to me against herself, cunt thrusting hard against it. She had turned into a very needy little slut for me. Nice.
“Can I come now, Slave.”
“Is that what you really want, Mistress?”
“Oh ….yes.”
“Well then don’t let me stand in your way, Mistress.”
She must have been holding back a bit, as if she really felt she needed my permission. How considerate of her. Because once she got my “green flag”, she took her gyrations to yet another level. Both of our hands clung to the device, but hers took the lead. She came in an explosion that began with her head bent back, her hips thrust off the bed, and ended in a series of after shocks that left her on her back, red in the face, demanding that I fuck her.
And I was more than ready.
When Mistress finally called down stairs for me, she was groggily waking from her slumber. We spent some time in bed reading our local paper, disappointed that the Times delivery man had failed us yet again.
Then it was time for me to exploit my Sunday “switch” privileges.
Now that Mistress has taken the first steps to submit to her new Dom, Slave is a little sheepish about the full bore “tie her up and spank her” Switch. Shouldn’t that be his privilege? If I get too assertive, even on Sunday mornings, will that confuse Mistress (and Slave) about our roles?
It may take a little while to work that out, but in the meantime, at least I can write a less domineering script for our Sundays. After we took the 10 minutes or so required to scan our local rag for what passes for “news” hereabouts, I tucked the paper away and announced that Mistress was going to experience our power tool this morning: the Hitachi Magic Wand, aka, WMO (weapon of mass orgasm).
Mistress had no objection, apparently relieved that she would not be spanked. She was still a little sleepy, after all.
Instead she lay back, and allowed me to shower her with kisses, as my hand used the WMO to massage her inner thighs. As I teased and pulled on her ripe nipples with my lips and teeth, the little white bulb on the machine slid more firmly against the parts that mattered. Mistress began to squirm and moan. She was getting close, but a little too quickly for my taste …. What was the rush?
I turned the machine off. She whined a bit. We continued to fondle though, my thigh sliding over hers, allowing her to pump her sopping cunt against me a bit. Enough to keep her hot, but hardly what she needed to get her self off.
I rolled away then.
“Where are you going, Slave?”, a bit of pout in her low, sexy voice.
“Time to accessorize.”
The WMO comes with a little attachment: A blue, phallic device with a bit of a curve at the end. Sort of a cruise missile variation, aimed at a woman’s g-spot if properly targeted.
I slid it in place, and re-started my engine. Vroom.
Mistress was very very wet, by now, so it was easy to slide the churning blue invader inside her.
“How’s that feel, Mistress.”
“Ohhhhh ….good, Slave.”
The blue tip pressed inside her, as I angled the device so that the base was vibrating close to but not exactly on her clit….she was getting a little crazy now.
“Did you like it when he made you beg, Mistress?”
“Yes Slave.” She mutters through her labored breathing. “Is that OK?”
“Of course, Mistress.”
Apparently I was not providing the pressure against her clit that Mistress now demanded. Her hand shot down to the WMO gripping it over my hand, pressing it harder against herself.
“Oh no, not yet, Mistress. Aren’t I doing a good enough job?”
I pulled back on the device, denying her the pressure she sought. Mistress moaned in frustration, her hips bucking up to meet the WMO.
“You’re driving me crazy, Slave”, she whined. “Why can’t I use my hand to help down there.”
“Why don’t you squeeze your nipples, Mistress.”
She obeyed, moving her hand away from the device, sliding her well polished fingernails to her breasts, toying with them delightfully, all the while her hips churning. I accommodated her needs by pressing the buzzing tool back into her, giving her a little more of what she needed.
After she had squeezed her engorged nipple a bit more, I relented. She seemed so very desperate.
Her hand shot back down, clinging to the Magic Wand, pressing it much harder than seemed comfortable to me against herself, cunt thrusting hard against it. She had turned into a very needy little slut for me. Nice.
“Can I come now, Slave.”
“Is that what you really want, Mistress?”
“Oh ….yes.”
“Well then don’t let me stand in your way, Mistress.”
She must have been holding back a bit, as if she really felt she needed my permission. How considerate of her. Because once she got my “green flag”, she took her gyrations to yet another level. Both of our hands clung to the device, but hers took the lead. She came in an explosion that began with her head bent back, her hips thrust off the bed, and ended in a series of after shocks that left her on her back, red in the face, demanding that I fuck her.
And I was more than ready.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Distracted at the Theatre
As is often the case, Mistress was the most dazzling woman in the room. And her darker, more exotic complexion certainly set her off from the pasty faced women and men of celtic heritage assembled for the play.
As it happened, Mistress had on the lovely short brown cashmere dress, brown tights and brown suede boots she had worn earlier in the week, for her first “date” with her new Sir. (the look is similar to the one in the photo).
And since I have a bit of a tights fetish, it was natural for me to slide my hand onto her thigh as the lights dropped in the theatre. I enjoyed the feel of her firm, well muscled thighs covered with the taut fabric that covered them.
So as the prim, Priestly characters read their lines on stage, my hand was making gentle circles on her thigh, moving higher, until my fingers could feel the warmth at their juncture. And of course, my mind wandered to the fact that Mistress’s new Sir had likely been of the same mind a few days earlier, exploiting her willingness to surrender the same access to him. And that she had probably grown wet in anticipation of that touch, just as she now seemed damp and warm as a result of mine.
Very distracting.
The thought of Mistress squirming to the touch of another man, someone she had chosen to submit her will and body to, is, of course, unnerving.
But for some strange reason it also drives this Slave crazy with desire for her.
I do a bit more competitive .... I want to make sure I continue to please her every bit as well as he does.
Knowing that as I fuck her, she may be thinking of how it felt to be taken by him, or to submit to his "inspection", makes me want to please her all the more.
Having her remind me that she has been thinking about that other cock, and how it tasted as it grew in her mouth makes me want to worship her cunt with even greater devotion.
Mistress is upstairs sleeping now. But not for long.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
"Tell Me What You Are Thinking, Slave."
I woke up early this morning, around 5:30 am. Mistress seemed groggily awake too. We were cuddled close in bed, my cock soft, but a little twitchy, nestled against her firm ass.
“I’m getting up now, Mistress.”
I planned to leave her sleeping. She needs her beauty rests.
She rolled over, clung to me. As my face pressed against her lush, full breasts, I had second thoughts.
So my mouth began to work a bit on Mistress’s firm nipples. Something that made her squirm. When she failed to push me away, or roll over, I took that as a “go”. Instead, she made some encouraging sounds. When she rolled onto her back, my hand snaked between her legs. Very wet.
As I worked my fingers there, I mentioned something that had come to mind as I woke.
“You’ve been keeping the cage on me longer these days, Mistress.”
Wednesday night, she kept it on me through our meet up with our new FetLife friends, releasing me only so I could fuck her when we got home, around 11 pm or so.
Thursday had been my Abstinence Day, and Mistress was feeling a bit under the weather. So the cage stayed on until she was in the mood to be worshipped, well into the evening. And while I took off the “cage” part, I left the steel ring on overnight, because …well it was just easier to leave it there, gripping my cock and balls through the night.
Then the cage was back on Friday morning, after Mistress had the benefit of my full and firm cock before I headed to work. It stayed on through some evening activities in our downtown, to be unlocked only when we slid into bed at around 10 pm.
“Yes….I suppose I have. It’s good for you, Slave. Seems to make you want me more.”
“Maybe so…. Is that it….or….”
My fingers were still working, picking up the pace. Mistress convulsed into a nice little explosion for me, though I kept at it a bit longer, helping her through the aftershocks.
“What, Slave?”
Now her hand was on my cock. It was already firm and ready. But she likes to play a bit, and who am I to object.
“I keep thinking of you stripping for him, Mistress.”
“Yes … does that turn you on, Slave?”
“Yes, Mistress. Did it turn you on? ….you said you weren’t going to … not the first time.”
“It did turn me on, Slave.”
“Did you feel compelled…like you had no choice?”
“Yes… I … needed to do it … once he asked me. Is that OK?”
“Of course, Mistress”.
Mistress’s fingers on my cock were driving me crazy. Fortunately, she rolled away, onto her back again.
“Why don’t you fuck me now, Slave.”
She did not have to ask twice.
As I slid into her, she moaned with delight, and I pressed hard against her, doing the things I knew would bring her close to the edge.
“What are you thinking, Slave?”
She likes to make me talk about it. Knew exactly what I was thinking about.
“You liked him fucking you, didn’t you Mistress?”
“Yes … it was …good.”
“You want him again, don’t you?”
“I do, Slave.”
In fact, they had emailed yesterday, setting up another meeting.
“You’ve been thinking about his cock too, haven’t you Mistress?
“I have Slave.”
“Does that make you wet?”
“It does.”
Mistress and I were clutching one another now, me buried inside her, sliding against her as I listened to her ragged breathing, so close to the breaking point.
“and you liked him using his fingers on you, didn’t you, Mistress?”
“Oh, yes.”
I pulled back a bit, still inside her, but giving my own fingers some space to play with her clit, rubbing it as out bodies slid against one another.
“What was it like begging for him Mistress ….did it turn you on to beg for the right to come?”
She moaned. But I could here her affirmation in the moan.
“How does it feel to beg him, like the way you make me beg?”
”Good, Slave. Very good”. And then Mistress came for me, quaking and moaning, her head thrown back, eyes slammed shut.
And soon I was doing the begging.
“I’m getting up now, Mistress.”
I planned to leave her sleeping. She needs her beauty rests.
She rolled over, clung to me. As my face pressed against her lush, full breasts, I had second thoughts.
So my mouth began to work a bit on Mistress’s firm nipples. Something that made her squirm. When she failed to push me away, or roll over, I took that as a “go”. Instead, she made some encouraging sounds. When she rolled onto her back, my hand snaked between her legs. Very wet.
As I worked my fingers there, I mentioned something that had come to mind as I woke.
“You’ve been keeping the cage on me longer these days, Mistress.”
Wednesday night, she kept it on me through our meet up with our new FetLife friends, releasing me only so I could fuck her when we got home, around 11 pm or so.
Thursday had been my Abstinence Day, and Mistress was feeling a bit under the weather. So the cage stayed on until she was in the mood to be worshipped, well into the evening. And while I took off the “cage” part, I left the steel ring on overnight, because …well it was just easier to leave it there, gripping my cock and balls through the night.
Then the cage was back on Friday morning, after Mistress had the benefit of my full and firm cock before I headed to work. It stayed on through some evening activities in our downtown, to be unlocked only when we slid into bed at around 10 pm.
“Yes….I suppose I have. It’s good for you, Slave. Seems to make you want me more.”
“Maybe so…. Is that it….or….”
My fingers were still working, picking up the pace. Mistress convulsed into a nice little explosion for me, though I kept at it a bit longer, helping her through the aftershocks.
“What, Slave?”
Now her hand was on my cock. It was already firm and ready. But she likes to play a bit, and who am I to object.
“I keep thinking of you stripping for him, Mistress.”
“Yes … does that turn you on, Slave?”
“Yes, Mistress. Did it turn you on? ….you said you weren’t going to … not the first time.”
“It did turn me on, Slave.”
“Did you feel compelled…like you had no choice?”
“Yes… I … needed to do it … once he asked me. Is that OK?”
“Of course, Mistress”.
Mistress’s fingers on my cock were driving me crazy. Fortunately, she rolled away, onto her back again.
“Why don’t you fuck me now, Slave.”
She did not have to ask twice.
As I slid into her, she moaned with delight, and I pressed hard against her, doing the things I knew would bring her close to the edge.
“What are you thinking, Slave?”
She likes to make me talk about it. Knew exactly what I was thinking about.
“You liked him fucking you, didn’t you Mistress?”
“Yes … it was …good.”
“You want him again, don’t you?”
“I do, Slave.”
In fact, they had emailed yesterday, setting up another meeting.
“You’ve been thinking about his cock too, haven’t you Mistress?
“I have Slave.”
“Does that make you wet?”
“It does.”
Mistress and I were clutching one another now, me buried inside her, sliding against her as I listened to her ragged breathing, so close to the breaking point.
“and you liked him using his fingers on you, didn’t you, Mistress?”
“Oh, yes.”
I pulled back a bit, still inside her, but giving my own fingers some space to play with her clit, rubbing it as out bodies slid against one another.
“What was it like begging for him Mistress ….did it turn you on to beg for the right to come?”
She moaned. But I could here her affirmation in the moan.
“How does it feel to beg him, like the way you make me beg?”
”Good, Slave. Very good”. And then Mistress came for me, quaking and moaning, her head thrown back, eyes slammed shut.
And soon I was doing the begging.
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