We were on the way to work, me driving, Mistress scanning her emails, getting ready for a very busy day.
“Last night I had a dream that we were with some people – family I think – and you got a call, Mistress. You gave me that ‘look’. .Said you had to excuse your self and take the call. It was clear it was one of your ‘friends’.”
“Hmmm….it’s good for you to be a little jealous, Slave.”
I suppose it is. Keeps me on my toes. And the thought of it and Mistress’s response got me a tad horny that morning, and kept me that way through the day.
It was a cageless day for me. But I am well trained. It did not occur to me to do something about my sexual edge without permission, even though I had access.
And when Mistress and I met it was with a business associate. I could only admire her in her way over the knee black dress, bare legs, and tasteful lady executive shoes. The best I got was a chance to run my hand up her leg while our friend excused himself for the men’s room.
So at the end of the day, once Mistress came down from the stress of her day and the simultaneous demands of needy and surly teens, I was happy to worship.
Mistress opened the computer to read yesterday’s entry. I knelt at the side of the bed, easing off her black work-a-day undies, spreading her legs, pressing my greedy face into her well groomed cunt. Yum.
Mistress scrolled through the opus, laughing quietly at the good parts, while I munched and suckled on her good parts.
“You keep bringing up E, Slave? Why is that?”
“Well, you seem to get off on it when I do, Mistress.”
When Slave finds a good button to push, he keeps pushing.
Soon Mistress was setting aside the computer, and squirming herself to a joyful little orgasm.
When she was done reading, she surprised me.
“Why don’t you insert your little device and fuck me now Slave. Before dinner….”
Gladly, Mistress.
After dinner we settled into a typical routine. I double checked one daughter’s history take home test (The one that stumped me: What annoyed Barry Goldwater more, the Warren Court, or all those New Deal “socialist” programs?). Mistress did some work for her odd lot of needy clients. Then we watched that final episode of “Damages” we had tucked away on our DVR(thank god for the ability to fast forward through the commercials).
We both seemed sated, and Mistress dozed off as I perused the Times, amused that Mayor Bloomberg seems t spend as much time in the Bahamas as he does in the Big Apple.
It was about 4 AM when I felt Mistress stirring a bit. Restless.
And when Mistress stirs, so does her Slave. She could tell I was awake too.
“Sorry I am awake, Slave. I guess I have too many work things running through my brain.”
I had a remedy for that.
My hand worked its way up under her short black velour nighty, capturing a nipple. My gentle squeezes, and the caress of my lips against her soft neck seemed to have the desired affect. Soon her ass was pressing against my thickening cock.
My hand slid down her belly, and nestled between her legs. The absence of fur makes it almost too easy to find the parts that make Mistress squirm even more intensely. Soon my fingers had the desired effect. One, then a second quaking orgasm.
“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave”
Of course I did. Mistress rolled onto her back. Her Slave mounted and entered her.
“Oh good, the morning cock.”
You know the kind. Not held back by a long and tiring work day. Tanned, rested and ready, sort of like Dick Nixon in 1968?
“That’s probably why your Sir M wants you to spend the night, Mistress ….to share the morning cock.”
“No doubt, Slave.”
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
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 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.
Friday, April 23, 2010
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….”
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