HNT / NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE.

On Thursdays, I usually share a revealing photo of my Mistress (with her approval of course). The private (via email) and public comments I get are often quite appreciative. Mistress has some lovely parts and her fans like to see them.

Sadly, today I am sharing something else. Yes, that’s my reddened bottom. Mistress figured that the spanking she gave me, coupled by the embarrassment of having to post the evidence would teach me a lesson.

And while it’s a lesson I had already learned, repetition can be a good re-enforcement, like the way the nuns in 7th grade made us recite those damned multiplication tables every morning. I am never at a loss when it comes to the question: “What is 6 x 7”.

Yesterday started well until Mistress perused the twitter page of the woman I mistakenly became involved with about 2 years ago, while we were doing that whole commuter marriage thing. Our readers know that is what led to our “contract”, and my agreement to become Mistress’s slave. That woman (TW) is someone I have left behind as part of ancient history.

But Mistress continues to have a morbid curiosity about her. She can’t resist the urge to keep track of her. And since TW is the type of person Twitter was made for: so narcissistic that she likes to share the banal details of her daily life for the world to marvel over. So it’s almost too easy for Mistress to “follow” her.

What Mistress found yesterday was a posting of a photo of a movie star to whom it has been said I bear an uncanny resemblance. There was one word attached by TW : “handsome”. Ugh.

When Mistress showed this to me, we both were aghast. Mistress does not like the thought that someone out there is a “menace” to us. I don’t like the thought that TW is intentionally trying to annoy or provoke us, since she likely assumes that we and thousands of others out there in twitter-land are breathlessly following her exploits.

So Mistress was pissed, and deservedly so.

When we got in the car for the ride home at the end of the workday, I could tell that this subject had been gnawing at her. It made me feel badly.

“Maybe I should be punished, Mistress.”

I knew it would be better for her to vent her anger in a constructive, physical way, rather than internalize it.

“Yes, Slave. That’s exactly what I had in mind.”

After a robust bike ride on a beautifully cool but sunny day, we went up to our room. The surly teens were at a soccer game. So there was no reason to “stifle”. That turned out to be a good thing.

Mistress told me to strip and stretch out on our bed, face down. She reached for the riding crop.

“You know why you are being punished, don’t you Slave.”

“Yes Mistress. For mistakenly bringing that woman into our life.”

“She is a menace, Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress, I agree.”

She lit into me with purpose. More fiercely than I can recall.

As the thwacks increased in tempo and number, I began to squirm. I almost wished that she had tied me down. But then maybe she likes to test me this way. I resisted the powerful urge, prompted by the pain, to roll away, or off ,the bed. That would not have been well received.

“Owww….That hurts, Mistress.”

“It’s supposed to Slave.”

When she finally was done – after maybe 15-20 strokes of the crop - she told me to be still and reached for her I-phone / camera.

“You are going to post this in the morning, Slave.”

“But I don’t think our readers want to see my ugly bottom, Mistress. They like you much better.”

I thought some flattery might earn me a reprieve. But I was wrong.

“No. I want you to be embarrassed. That’s a part of your punishment.”

So there you have me. In all my puffy, late 50’s glory. Yuck.

Fortunately, Mistress was in the mood for some sexual release after my punishment.

After I used my mouth to give her a first orgasm, she toyed with my cock with her fingers, making me very hard, and even more desperate for her. But we had not resolved the issue of Abstinence Day.

“Can I fuck you Mistress?”

“I probably should make you wait until morning, Slave.”

Her fingers did that light stroking thing to my fully engorged cock as I lay there. It took a great deal of will power to resist the urge to mount her without permission, or yank away that tormenting hand.

“But … you… are… driving … me … crazy, Mistress.”

I did not want to embarrass myself further my shooting my wad into the air. But I was close. So very close.

“Alright, Slave….you may fuck me.”

Ahhhh.

As we made love we talked a bit about her plans to meet with Sir M next week.

“You miss that extra cock, don’t you Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave. The variety is nice.”

Fortunately, mine was the cock de jour. And despite the (by then) fading pain in my bottom, I hoped that Mistress also felt better after a rude start to our day.

Come and Run

Mistress stopped by on her way to lunch yesterday. She was pressed for time.

“Very Busy day, Slave.”

She was in a relatively short black dress with a matching sweater. And her knickers were already coming down as I pulled the chair against the door.

“Sorry I did not have a chance to call earlier, Slave.”

“No apologies required, Mistress. I have been pretty busy too.”

By now I was on my knees, spreading her legs. Ready to feast.

It was not long before Mistress was squirming. Stifling her moans for fear of disturbing my office mates.

Are her parts well trained? Or am I the one who has been well trained?

When she had her fill, she was back to business.

I walked her to the elevator bank.

“Sorry to come and run, Slave.”

“Just happy you could stop by Mistress.”

She joined some of my colleagues in the elevator, all on their way to lunch engagements. I waved goodbye to them all as the doors slid closed.

But had I remembered to wipe off my face?

Soothing a Restless Mistress

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.”

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.