Mistress Gets a Surprise

I know. Last week I reported that I seemed more inclined to “stay in my lane” and not exercise my switch privileges now that Mistress has a Dom to visit.

But yesterday was different. Was the change in location (our Florida “granny flat” …err … loft) or the fact that Mistress had not been able to work her Dom into her busy schedule last week?

Whatever it was, I woke feeling frisky, if a little stiff from a day of yard work and biking.

So when Mistress indicated that she was awake and ready for attention, I mounted the stairs with the only restraining tool I could find: the belt from a pink terry bathrobe we had conveniently left behind.

First Mistress read the entry I had written on her deforestation project the afternoon before. Then I revealed my plans, and ordered her to surrender her lovely hands for restraint. Soon she was tied securely to the bedpost, arms extended over her head.

“What are you up to, Slave?”

“It’s been a while since you had a good spanking, Mistress.”

She seemed to shiver with delight.

“I suppose you’re right.”

So far, her new Dom has only spanked her once, for her failure to leave that little landing strip of fur he had directed, when she got that original waxing. He’s gone pretty easy on her, now that I think of it. Taking the training slow. Probably because he’s so anxious to fuck her when she alights on his door step. But I am getting off message here…..

Mistress was now well positioned, on her tummy, a pillow propped under her hips. I gently stroked and kissed that bottom, all clean and smooth and soft, yet firm from all that cycling. Lovely.

Then I surprised her with the first firm smack. Almost immediately Mistress began to squirm and moan. And not from the pain of it. A spanking seems to bring out her inner subbie slut very quickly.

“It was all that sexy talk last fall with your friend E that got you into this spanking thing, wasn’t it Mistress?” (Go about to our fall entries to find out about the enigmatic E, the old college lover Mistress reconnected with in cyberland last fall, after she got the contractual right to take other lovers).

“Well you used to spank me, Slave.”

True, it was years ago, when Mick and Molly were married elsewhere, before marriage and babies. Or was it babies and marriage?

I applied a few more thwacks with my palm. Her ass was starting to glow. And she was very wet, as my fingers confirmed during a little break from her “punishment”.

“I remember. And you liked it then, didn’t you Mistress?”

“I did Slave. You got too soft on me….”

Thwack. I needed to remind her of her temporary status as my prisoner.

“I guess once we had the girls, I was a little timid in that respect. Maybe a bit too respectful of your status as a Mom?”

“Could be Slave.”

“But then, when your friend E threatened to spank you…”

Thwack.

“That hurt, Slave.”

My fingers probed. She squirmed, moaned.

“Then why are you so wet, Mistress?”

Was it the E talk? Her mind probably was on all that talk of strict discipline and required obedience.

“I bet you’d still like him to spank you, Mistress?”

“Maybe, Slave.”

Doubtless.

Mistress’s bottom was rather red by now. I probably had given her enough. So I rose and grabbed my camera, and snapped a few shots of her lying there, at my “mercy”.

Then I excused myself.

“Back in a moment, Mistress.”

“Come back here, Slave!”

She was squirming and desperate. But I had a surprise for her. And it wasn’t a trip to Starbucks.

As I came back up the stairs I had with me a little toy I had secreted away in our bag. The power tool – our Hitachi Magic Wand. Mistress’s head was buried in a pillow. Her ass was undulating. She did not realize her divine fate until the machine began to hum.

“What is that …..oooooh.”

She figured it out as the little white bulb pressed between her legs and against her bottom.

“You tricked me, Slave.”

I slid the business end of the magic wand between Mistress’s legs, and her muscles clenched around it, showing her desperation to bring this little session to its natural conclusion.

But I was in no hurry. I pulled back a bit, enjoying Mistress’s frustrating little gyrations as she tried to purchase the type of firm contact with her smooth and soaking cunt that would bring her the relief she needed. By now Mistress was humping the pillow between her hips, stretching back with her ass, and trying to grab the wand with those strong and sexy thighs. She was a woman possessed with need.

Just the way I like her.

But I am ultimately a pushover. A real Dom might have walked away for a bit, leaving her to marinate in her slutty needs. But I decided to give her what she wanted, sliding the tool deeper between her thighs.

Then it was Mistress going wild, clutching the tool between her legs, maybe afraid that I would change my mind. She ground at it, with fierce determination. Then she exploded against it, face red, tears and sobs flowing from her. One of those nuclear orgasms that make a Slave proud of his work.

I let her rest a bit, still on her tummy. I pressed against her, kissing away the tears, letting my hard cock slide against her soft, red rump.

Then it was my turn, sliding into her from behind. Someone else would not be denied.

Mistress Goes in For Some Maintenance.

Mistress and I have been down here in Central Florida this weekend, seeing some old friends and tending to our house – a nice old Florida classic that will not sell in this crazy real estate market.

In between the yard work, deferred maintenance and cleaning out a garage filled with tenant detritus, we have taken some long bike rides, dined with old neighbors, and Mistress has worked on her tan (the lines are back as you shall see in upcoming photos).

Mistress also went in for some maintenance of her own yesterday afternoon. Our loyal readers may recall that a few weeks back, her Dom gave orders to strip away her forest so he could more readily access her sexy little components. Mistress went above and beyond the call of duty and found a place in the outer suburbs of River City that performs a Brazilian wax. But this service is not readily available in our town. I guess the conservative dames don’t create much of a demand. Or does the cold weather encourage our women folk to keep their fur?

When Mistress asked a salon near her office if she could be accommodated they looked at her like an insane slut. (Were they half right? You be the judge.)

But down here in the Sunshine state, they have a different state of mind. Mistress called her old salon – where the Vietnamese ladies serviced her fingers and feet for several years – and it was no problem to set her up for a waxing.

Mistress asked if I wanted to come watch. I passed, opting to plant some grass seed, while knowing I would have the chance to inspect and plant some other seed later, once she was all spiffed up. I had watched her give birth twice. But this seemed beyond the call of duty. (Of course, if ordered, I would have dutifully complied).

Then again, he thought that Mistress was doing this at the direction of her other man made the thought of her undergoing this form of torture all the more torturous for this Slave.

Mistress walked to her waxing, and I picked her up at the appointed hour. I resisted the impulse to slide my hand under her sundress to take her slick parts for a test drive.

Back in our little guest house, Mistress preceded me up the stairs to the loft where our old conjugal bed is now in repose. When I came up I found Mistress, spread naked across the bed, posing in front of her computer screen, angling to let the “photo booth” camera take in her denuded parts and naked breasts, her brightly painted nails covering her nipples.

“Ahh. Taking some photos for your friend, Mistress?”

She gave me one of those coy smiles.

“Oh, Slave. I am sure you will be on the distribution list too.”

Of course, in my mind I surmised that he had demanded more photos, as evidence that she was maintaining the look and texture that he required. And, horny little slut that she was for him, she was more than happy to oblige.

“You like to titillate him, don’t you Mistress?”

By now I had picked up my own little camera and was taking some shots to share with our readers. She gets to approve of course.

“I do, Slave.”

Mistress continued to pose and snap the laptop camera, searching for angles that would display her parts to good advantage.

“He likes the breasts, Slave. Need to get some good shots of those.”

No doubt.

When Mistress was done with her photo spread (pun intended), She lay back and allowed me to apply some cocoanut butter to her lovely parts and bottom, still a bit red and tender from the waxing she had endured. And I applied myself with devotion until she was squirming from my ministrations.

“Do you imagine him playing with his cock when he gets those photos, Mistress?”

“He has not told me that he does that, Slave.”

“Well you like to think he does, don’t you?”

“I suppose I do….”

By now I was very anxious to feel those clean and well moisturized parts against the tip of my tongue and between my lips. I slid down and brought Mistress to the boiling point with a slow and deliberate assault until she was quaking against me. Satisfied for the moment, she pushed my head away.

“Let me taste your cock now, Slave.”

No problem.

Mistress soon had me begging to fuck her, and she ultimately relented allowing me to mount her, and it seemed I brought her to an additional orgasm that way. But not the kind she wanted.

“I want to get on top, Slave.”

No objection there. I rolled over, and Mistress slid onto me, guiding my cock inside her and beginning that slow, relentless ride to the place she needed to be.

“I’ll bet he liked it when you rode his cock that last time, Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave. He kind of went crazy.”

“And how did you like it Mistress.”

“It was …. Nice Slave. Very nice.”

No doubt.

Mistress was picking up the pace now, churning against me. I figured her mind was half on hois cock, half on mind. But it worked well for the both of us. She was a woman possessed. And suddenly, she hit that wall, pounding against me with a moan from deep in her lungs, before rolling off, spent.

And then it was my turn to finish the job. I like batting clean up.

In the Middle of the Night

Molly and Mick are down in Florida this weekend, dealing with a lovely house that does not want to be sold. But it does give us some solo time without teens or offices.  And yes dear readers, there has been sex.

We arrived last evening and camped out in our little guest house, still semi-furnished, at poolside. We took inventory of some things that need to be fixed or disposed of, then had a little picnic with some goodies acquired at Whole Foods. Mistress does like her Humboldt Fog. I go for the mozzarella and tomatoes, a la caprese.

We had some lovely “sleep tight” sex before drifting off.

Then around 2 am, Slave woke with mischief on his mind. I was thinking about what Mistress had told me concerning her Dom.

“He wants me to spend the night some time, Slave.”

“Well that’s up to you, isn’t it Mistress.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

What was on my mind?  The thought of Mistress, tied or handcuffed to Sir M’s bed, available to him whenever he wants to take her in the night. No doubt that has to be at the top of his list.

So I suppose I was acting out these dark thoughts when I reached over to Mistress, lying naked next to me, on her stomach, legs splayed ever so slightly. I slid a hand between those lovely thighs, finding those smooth, hairless lips and began to gently stroke her until her hips began to undulate.

Then Mistress acknowledged my impudent attack.

“What are you up to Slave?”

“What’s it seem like, Mistress?

Soon Mistress rolled over towards me, in the spirit of things, and allowed me to take one of her nipples between my lips and teeth, as my fingers continued the slow but steady assault that soon had her hips churning against me, moaning her delight.

Having taken her pleasure, Mistress’s fingers found my cock, hard and ready for her. In a breach of our rules, I did not ask permission, but simply slid on top of her and fucked her as I imagined her Dom would, hard and insistent, my fingers squeezing her nipples, my face buried in her neck, taking in her lovely scent.

But I did get back in character long enough to ask for permission to come.

“I like it when you want me in the middle of the night, Slave.”

Well I normally don’t like to wake you in your beauty rest, Mistress. But it’s not a school night….”

HNT's and PDA's

Mick and Molly are slowly adjusting to her new work schedule. While it has cut into our morning recreational activities, it has made for more opportunities for activities in River City’s downtown, as we take advantage of our close working proximity.

Tuesday evening was a nice “date” night. After work, Molly picked me up in her Mom-mobile (the black station wagon) and we headed up to a (relatively) hip restaurant in a nearby 1860’s neighborhood, finally being reclaimed from decades of decline. We even ran into a twitter follower (no not for our “UnderContract” twitter site, we do vanilla twiting too), who searched us out after Molly posted a photo of her allegedly “hunkish” husband.

After dinner we headed to a nearby theatre to see a well reviewed drama. The theatre is located on a hillside with a grand view of our downtown. Since we were a bit early, and I was more than a bit horny, we found a secluded picnic table with an excellent view, and began to “make out” a bit. And while there was the occasional car and theatre patron passing by, Mistress used her hands to fondle my cock through my trousers (fortunately it was a cage-free day for me). We kissed, deep and long. My hand rode up the inside of Mistress’s naked thigh, locating the panel of her black undies. As we became more….interested…we almost aborted our theatre trip…. Almost.

Instead we waited until after theatre to finish the job, back in our cozy bed.

Yesterday Mistress had a work related dinner. So she had me wear the cage as a little extra insurance that I would not get into trouble if left to my own devices after work.

But she did have time to see me at lunch. She arrived at my office for a little worship first though. It was one of those rare days when Mistress wore pants. Black, form fitting pants that emphasize her shapely and alluring rump.

I pulled the chair to the door, and draped our handy blanket over it to protect the upholstery from her natural juices.

She pulled down her pants and lacy green thong (damn, should have gotten a picture of that).

I fell to my knees. My eyes fell on her delectable, clean shaven lips, as she spread her legs just wide enough to accommodate my face.

“You look sexy today, Mistress.”

“Oh, really? I thought you liked me in dresses better.”

“Some variety never hurts, Mistress.”

I began to probe her with my tongue, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her arousal.

“Did anyone flirt with you today, Mistress?”

I continued my assault, using fingers to pry apart those lovely, plump lips.

“Well … there was that man in the elevator. Handsome. He said he had never seen me in the building before. Wanted to know where I worked.”

“Hmmm.” I paused briefly in my accelerating attack on the little bud popping up through those denuded lips.

“Does that turn you on when handsome men flirt, Mistress?”

“A little, Slave.”

Then the conversation faded into the little stifled moans of pleasure, and the broken breathing that signals Mistress’s emerging climax. Soon she was thrusting her hips against my lips and tongue. It was a nice one. Such a shame that my cock was locked in its steel cage, the key back at home.

After Mistress regained her composure (as well as her pants and thong), we headed to lunch, picking up a salad and finding an open table on our public square. It was a lovely spring day, sunny, but without the heat and humidity sure to come.

When we finished our salads, I walked Mistress toward her office, but we paused at a very public corner. I kissed Mistress tentatively. Sort of a goodbye peck. There were hundreds of folks within site.

But Mistress would have none of that. She kissed me hard, deep, her compelling tongue invading her Slave’s mouth. And of course I reciprocated. This went on for a while, us standing at the busiest corner in River City, making out for our conservative little world to see. I was waiting for someone to yell “get a room.” I was acutely reminded that my cock was confined until Mistress saw fit to unlock it.

When we finally came up for air, Mistress and I headed back to our respective offices.

I knew it would be several hours before Mistress came home from her dinner. I hope she remembered where she left the key.