Clear Cutting

Mick and Molly have enjoyed striking up some conversations with a variety of our readers. You add some perspective and egg us on. So in some ways this blog has become interactive. We hope that we inspire you us as much as you have inspired us.


Our friend M from out West has been particularly enthusiastic of late in sharing some adventures of his own. Here is what he said after Monday’s posting with a picture of Mistress tied to our bed:

“The switch day pictures are always my favorites, because they always feature Molly's beauitful ass. I must still have a lot more of the dom in me than I admit.

B had a long "conversation" with me over her lap this morning about toping from the bottom. She claims I so it all the time and she doesn't approve. She claims I am still very dominant. She used her hairbrush harder than she ever has to drive home this failing on my part. She said "you don't like this spanking at all do you slave." MO MAMM!!! She said good and proceeded to spank longer and harder. I was pleading and begging her to stop promising to never be dominant again.. She totally ignored me and just kept blistering my bare bottom. B doesn't believe in safe words for spanking and I don't have one. As she says, “wouldn't be a real spanking If I could stop it...would it slave??? “

She then had me get her "huge blue cock". I really is very big 8 inches long and 6 inches around. B said a good long hard fucking may be just the ticket to make me more submissive. She fucked me VERY hard and VERY long. After she came as many times as she wanted she made me "service her bottom." She said that was another good submissive act for her slave to do to reinforce his submission. WOW what a morning. She finally allowed her slave to fuck her and get some relief!.

I'm in love! The harder she uses me the more I love her??? Take care M “

But yesterday, Mistress may have taken that inspiration thing a bit too far. As mentioned yesterday, her new Dom had given her some very specific instructions about how he wanted her bush trimmed before their next encounter (which is this evening). His instructions called for a thin racing stripe of hair running from the top of her lips toward her belly button, a little wider at the top than at the bottom.

We had some “fun” (as described in yesterday’s post) complying with his instructions, and I thought we had done a pretty good job. Later yesterday, M wrote back describing how he and his wife/ Domme get Brazilian waxes to deal with these issues:

“Yes, I think I have told you guys I have been shaving and more reciently getting brazialian waxs for several years. B gets waxed once a month,,, not brazialian but pretty short and close. Its FUCKING HOT. I couldn't reccomend it more highly. Not that you guys need any more way to make yourselves hot..”

Well, Mistress had a little extra time on her hands yesterday, so inspired by M and no doubt anxious to impress her Dom, she made an appointment for late yesterday afternoon. She was going for the wax, a first for her. When I passed that on to M he had some suggestions on what to ask for:

“I think [the Dom] will LOVE it! I think you will too. Most important I think Molly will be very pleased. FYI Molly in... "waxing terms" I would recommend the complete Brazilian including the butt crack and just leave a short triangle right over the genitals. Have them take all the hair to each side of the labia, and all of it from around the anus. HOT. you will love it!”

Well I passed these instructions on, and Mistress was off on her quest.

But when I got home, Mistress was a little red faced when I asked to see the results.

As she lowered her panties, what she revealed was, as M promised, very very hot. But there was a problem: all of her hair was now gone. No little racing stripe.

It was her first time, and it seems she had failed to convey all of the details of M’s instructions.

I was anxious to take Mistress’s new look for a test drive. Quickly her panties were off, she was lying across our bed, and I was on my knees for some worship time.

She was soooo smooth. And her clit was soooo available.

“Did it turn you on when they did this Mistress?

“Yes, a little Slave.”

Right. “ A little.”

My tongue teased, sliding across her.

“Why, Mistress.”

“The thought of him … and you, of course, inspecting me, Slave.”

It was nice to be included.

Soon Mistress was coming for me, her hips thrusting against my head, my face wet from her flowing juices. And not a threat of getting a loose pube stuck in my teeth.

Would you be surprised to know that we then jettisoned our plans for a bike ride so that we could more fully explore Mistress’s new look and texture?

But the elephant in the room is this: Will Dom be happy with the new look? Or will there be punishment in store because Mistress failed to follow instructions?

Trimmed

Sunday was a busy day here for Mick and Molly.

I ended yesterday’s entry at the conclusion of our Switch ritual. And I appreciated the warm comments from some faithful followers. But things got a bit edgier not much later that day….

We bundled up for a long bike ride – the early spring did not last long here in River City. When we arrived home, I was heading to the shower,  planning on my weekly visit to my annoying, elderly Mother across town. As I emerged from the shower, I saw Mistress sitting on our bed, looking up from her laptop.  Pensive.

“Well, Slave, I got some instructions from the Dom for our meeting on Wednesday.”

Hmmm.

“And what are they, Mistress.”

“Maybe you should look.”

I peered over her shoulder. And well, Blushed a bit. Started to stiffen.

Mistress’s directions involved a very precise trimming of her “bush”. He was looking for a “racing stripe”,  v-shaped, with the wider section up top.  Then there was a parting comment about his longing for her soft lips on his cock.

“What do you think, Mistress?”

“I think you should help me do this today, Slave.”

“OK. (gulp) …., happily Mistress.”

Mistress was up from the bed now, and clung to me. Grinding a bit. Kissing. It was pretty obvious to me that the Dom’s email had lit some type of fuse that was burning with a purpose.

And here I was, with a scheduled visit to “Mom”.

“I think I want you now, Slave.”

And of course I wanted her. But I am boringly responsible and knew that I better get dressed, over to my Mother’s condo, and back ASAP. Somehow I extricated myself from Mistress’s embrace and raced off. Though I must say that as I chatted with Mother about her week’s annoyances, it was hard not to think about my upcoming engagement with a razor, and how steamy Mistress had become at the thought of surrendering her grooming prerogatives to another guy.

By the time I arrived home I was in a high state of anticipation. As it turned out, Molly’s mother had stopped by while I was gone, but the coast was now clear. Even the teens were off, exploiting their driving privileges.

We quickly agreed to defer some tax return work we both had planned and adjourn to the bedroom.  The email was re-opened to make sure we got his instructions right (or was it because Mistress wanted to re-read that “lips on cock” line one more time?)

I spread a towel on the bed. Retrieved a new razor and some scissors, and unearthed a can of shaving cream.

This was my first foray into pubic grooming. And Mistress warned me to be very careful. Of course, the last thing I wanted to do was nick Mistress’s delicate parts.

I began at the edges, trimming with the scissors, then taking off the stubble with the razor. It was delicate work. And I must say Mistress’s not so subtle squirming did not help with the required precision.

“I think I really need an orgasm, Slave”, she whispered, as I went about my work.

“Patience, Mistress. We want to make sure he’s pleased, don’t we?”

I used a finger to gently part her lips and discovered just how wet and ready she was. That evoked a subtle moan and quiver. Mistress’s eyes were closed when I looked up at her.  This had become a form or torture that was every bit as much fun as that morning’s switch.

Of course, I was getting more than a little horny myself. I tried to focus on the task at hand. Using a wet cloth to wipe away the shaving cream a few times to make sure that the required design was taking shape.

The thought of his initial inspection, to see if she had followed his instructions, was a bit excruciating. And I wondered what sort of punishment might be inflicted if he was displeased.

I finished up the job as best I could, thinking that we might re-visit the next day to tie up any “loose hairs”. Cleaning Mistress off one last time I settled my head between her legs.

What I discovered was a much clearer path to the promised land. Without all that fur, Mistress’s lips and clit were there for me to exploit more directly.  And my tongue stretched out for its first taste of the new landscape. Wonderful. Why hadn’t we done this sooner?

But Mistress was not looking for the light, teasing touch at this point.

She had been agitated and aroused for the last 3 hours. Ever since she had popped open that incendiary email.

“Would you like me to deploy the power tool, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave.”  Wow. Twice in one day. That’s a new one.

It was still plugged in at the side of the bed.  I switched it on. No teasing or taunting this time. I went straight for the newly trimmed territory. Within moments, Mistress’s head was thrown back, her hips were pumping against the buzzing device. As my mouth clung to her right nipple, her hand reached down to press the Magic Wand even harder against her cunt. Then she exploded against it. At last.

And she was more than happy to let me take my turn at her. I recall her commenting on how hard my cock was, but I don’t remember much more than my own satisfying explosion a few minutes later. We both collapsed on the bed. A nap ensued. Very nice.

Later that day, after the bits of hair were swept away from our bed, Mistress told me she had sent a brief email response to the Dom:

“Mission accomplished”.

Let’s hope he’s satisfied. Too.

Forced

Both Mistress and Slave slept a little later than normal Sunday morning, after being out at a later than normal for a party, and adjusting to the dreaded “spring forward” loss of an hour.

Mistress had been dressed Saturday night in one of her Domme-ish uniforms: black tights and boots, a short black dress highlighted by a long turquoise scarf. She turned more than a few heads at a party where guests had been told to wear “pajamas”. Of course, had Mistress actually worn her sleepwear, jaws would have dropped on those turning heads.

When we got home from the party, we were both a little tired and a good bit tipsy. So there was no sex. But Mistress, asked if she should keep her tights on. I have a bit of a fetish in that department, so was glad to sidle up to her in bed, naked as she requires, my cock pressing against the sensuous fabric that covered her strong legs and firm bottom.

The papers were spread across the bed, and both of us were still a tad groggy. But with the surly teens still out at “sleepovers”, I knew I should not lose my opportunity to pounce. It was my “switch” day.



I shared a paragraph from our contract yesterday. Here is the pertinent portion of the contract governing our Sunday AM rituals:


“5. On Sunday mornings for at least 2 hours, and at other times of the week, upon agreement of the parties, Mistress will submit completely and totally to slave, as if she was the Slave and he was the Master/Owner of her under the terms of this agreement.”

I go pretty easy on Mistress most Sunday mornings. And since we were both still a bit groggy, it seemed that this Sunday would be particularly easy duty for her. I pulled out our leather cuffs, locked them on, and affixed them to opposite ends of a long leather strap that wraps around the head of our bed. As the photo shows, her legs were free, her arms lazily spread apart. She had a good range of movement, though it would have been challenging for her to roll over. Hardly stringent bondage, but at least she understood that she was “at my mercy.”

I retrieved our “power tool” from the closet where it is kept to limit raised eyebrows and plugged it in. Mistress raised her eyebrows. She always likes that form of therapy.

Sitting next to her on the bed, I began to fondle her tight ass, making her squirm. I rewarded her squirming with an occasional hard slap to her bottom. That only made her squirm a little more.

“That hurts, Slave.”

“Baloney. You love it.”

I got no denial.

Straddling her I rubbed her shoulders and back. Those generated sighs of contentment.

After Mistress seemed both relaxed and content in her restraints, I reached for the Magic Wand.

My first strokes were to her back and shoulders. Mistress’s lower back can get a little achy. The combination of all that biking and all that sex are probably to blame. So that part of her got particular attention.

Then I mover to her legs, and as the wand played across her inner thighs, the squirming resumed. And I could detect the appealing scent of her arousal.

“I can smell you Mistress. You’re getting a little anxious aren’t you.”

“How do I smell, Slave.”

“Delicious.”

Then I dipped the tool to her right foot, playing it across its lovely curved arch. The reaction was immediate.

“Hey….stop that.” Her foot tried to squirm away. A discovery: Mistress’s foot was ticklish and the tool was driving her crazy.

Like the crazy Congressman from NY, I had to take advantage. There ensued a few minutes of Mistress straining at her bonds, and me grabbing her foot with one hand and applying the wand with another. It’s always nice to discover a new way to “torture” my occasional “Slave”.

And I particularly enjoyed ignoring her “demands” that I stop.

All that squirming also seemed to be taking its toll on Mistress’s cunt. Her breathing was more rapid. The scent of her arousal was more pronounced. So it became hard for me to resist, releasing her foot to get to some of the better parts.

As the Wand slid up Mistress’s black tighted thigh, her body tensed. She knew what was coming.

With her hands tied, she still had the ability to move her hips, and with the wand pressed under her and between her legs, Mistress’s movements became more frantic, with her thighs gripping hard against my hand and the buzzing tool it held.

Soon Mistress was tipped over the edge, moaning into her pillow. She hugged the device too her until she was done with both the main event and a series of aftershocks.

Then her muscles relaxed.

“Enough Slave.”

But I was not quite done with her.

Rather than pulling the Wand away, I began to press it against her again, rubbing gently, then more insistently.

“what are you doing, Slave?”

“I’m not so sure you’ve had enough, Mistress.”

I was going to force another one out of her. And I think she liked the idea that she was not in charge of this one.

Soon Mistress was more in the spirit of my re-assault, her hips sliding too and fro against the device. And then she was moaning and writhing all over again.

I cuddled against her, turning off the Wand. I had made my point. Then I released her and helped her roll over.

I was not quite done.

Taunted

Mistress has been taunting her Slave lately.

Taunting me about her right to share her body with whomever she pleases. To take (or be taken by) other men. To suck their cocks, whether at her own initiative or at their command.

When I wrote it into the contract (yes, it was my crazy idea), It was to show the extent to which I was prepared to surrender control to my Mistress. Here is the language:

4. Mistress has the right to engage in other relationships with men or women, of whatever nature, without obtaining additional consent from the Slave. Such relationships may include “vanilla” relationships, her taking or training of additional slaves, or her submission to other men or women.


The point was that Mistress had certain rights that her Slave did not have. I hoped that this would show Mistress my devotion to her, and that I wanted her to have absolute power over both my body and her own.

It was not until Mistress had her little cyber flirtation with an old college lover in the Fall that we discovered that the notion of Mistress taking another lover was a strange turn on not just for her, but for me too. I won’t bore you loyal readers with the amateur psychology of it all. But the thought and the talk of it makes things happen down there. Believe me.

Mistress has been encouraged to tell me when someone flirts with her, or when she comes into contact with a man (or occasional woman) who makes sparks fly.

And she does.

Of course, there is now her part time Dom. She lets me know when she sends him an email to set up or adjust their next scheduled meeting. Or if he responds with a comment about how he is looking forward to seeing her. ( I am sure he is, since Mistress stripped of her cloths and dripping with desire is quite a sight).

When she sucks my cock, I can’t help wondering: is she imagining doing the same for him, or any of the other guys who have hit her radar screen of late. And if I ask her that, she coyly suggests that it’s none of my business. That I should just enjoy her attention as long as I have it.


On Friday, Mistress had an appointment downtown with a ‘business contact.” He is a a poobah from a local family that owns some primo real estate and controls a well known sports franchise. I was hoping she would stop by for some worship after what turned out to be a lengthy meeting. But she called on her way home, saying that she could not visit because a surly teen needed some mommy-ing.

“How was your meeting, Mistress?”

“Excellent, Slave. He’s an interesting man.”

There was that little taunt when she said it.

“Oh….? Please explain, Mistress.”

“Well you like me to tell you when men flirt, don’t you, Slave.”

Of course ….and was he flirting?”

“Let’s just say that the meeting lasted longer than I expected. We talked about all sorts of things ….and the way he looked at me…One can tell.”

“And what did you think of him, Mistress?”

“Interesting, Slave. He’s a few years younger than me, but ….”

She was leaving it unsaid: the fact that she could imagine the two of them together was turning her on, and turning me on too.

Of course, my cage was locked on tight, and the surge of blood to my cock and balls had me squirming. I had to stand to ease the discomfort.

Later, when I was home, I quickly offered to worship my Mistress. And it seemed she was already quite ready for my tongue.