Last weekend...

Our readers may recall that Mick and Molly  spent last weekend in Florida, tending to the house that will not sell.  At least so far.

On Saturday, Mistress went in for a fresh Brazilian waxing to make her self all smooth and available for Sir M. And of course I get to share in his bounty.

But I remembered this morning that when she came home from that waxing,  Mistress was snapping some photos of her clean shaven parts on her computer camera. And I took some photos too.

So I downloaded my photos this morning. they were lovely. (The one above was actually taken the next morning - my switch day - after I tied her to the bed and spanked that lovely bottom. Can you see the red marks?). I forwarded one to Mistress showing her beautiful face, with  freshly manicured nails covering her ripe and delicious breasts. It's a shot that she  might want to share with her Sir.

Then I thought to myself: what happened to the photos that Mistress snapped of her self, focused on her naked parts, already dripping with desire? I don't think she had sent them to Sir M. Surely she would have mentioned that to me, or shown me the salacious response he doubtlessly would have sent her. She would know that  those items simply would turn me on, and re-enforce my status as her Slave.

Good things, no?

Or were those scandalous images intended for someone else?

Someone Mistress is teasing and flirting with on the side? But who I am in the dark about...

That's another thought that would drive her Slave crazy.  Mistresses act in mysterious ways.

Tomorrow is my switch day again. If I am lucky the surly teens will spend the night else where. Maybe I should interrogate her under "duress"? Does anyone have Dick Cheney's cell phone number?

When Blog Worlds and Real Worlds Collide

Yesterday Mistress had a work related road trip, to the north land of our flat, boring state. The upside for me was that she did not have to hit the road quite as early as is her norm these days. Which means we had time for some morning “action”.

With Mistress away, she was naturally concerned that her Slave not stray, so I had been ordered to wear my cage. I made sure to grab the hard steel ring it mounts on when I got up to make my latte and do my morning essay (including posting that hideous picture). I smushed my parts through and snugged it tight before the package had the opportunity to contract in our cool morning air here in the heartland.

By the time I was done writing, I was already rather horny for Mistress. I mean, it had been almost 10 hours!  As Mistress read my opus and laughed at the picture of my reddened butt, I slid my head under the covers and massaged her naked cunt with my tongue. That seemed to make her purr even more than the whiney cats who seemed determined to break our mood.

Once Mistress put down the laptop I completed the job, and was rewarded with the opportunity to fuck her.

It had been a while since I had been required to do it with the hard steel cock gripping my cock and balls. The larger I get, the tighter the grip, of course. So pleasure mixes with a bit of discomfort, though Mistress says that my cock gets particularly firm for her when I am equipped that way. So who can complain.

As I took her that way, holding her arms above her head, we ruminated a bit on her experiences with her Dom, who she hopes to meet up with again net week.

“I can’t help but think of how he took you from behind, bent over that picnic table, Mistress.”

“Why ….does that bother you Slave?”

“No …I guess I get turned on thinking of that…was it …hot, Mistress?”

“Oh yes Slave. Very Hot. “

“Are you wondering what he has in store for you next, Mistress?”

“I am, Slave.”

The steel ring not only makes me harder. It also makes it a bit more of a challenge to come. But when I did, with Mistress’s permission, of course, the results were … thunderous.

Soon I was off to work, and Mistress took a bike ride before she hit the road for her meeting up north. When I got to work, I noticed an email from one of our favorite correspondents, M from out west, who likes to stoke the fires for us a bit with his imaginings of adventures for Molly and Mick.

Here is a portion of what he wrote us:

“Here is how Molly’s new job could get more interesting.  Her new boss would be a very strict and firm man.   The new rule would be Molly would have to report to his office each day at 11:00 AM.  She would be required to strip naked and get up on his desk, spread her legs and masturbate while he watched.  

When she was ready to cum she would have to ask if she could cum.  He would say no, get down on your knees and suck my cock and make it hard.  He would grab her hair and pinch her nipples as she sucked.  Then he would order her around in front of his desk and have her bend over and grab the far side of the desk.  He would take off his belt and give her a good hard strapping on her bare bottom.  Then he would roughly pull her cheeks apart and thrust his big cock in her pussy, taking his pleasure while warning her not to cum.  Then he would have her pull her bottom wide open while he pushed a small butt plug deep in her bottom.  ‘We will train you over time to take bigger and bigger plugs until finally you can take my cock and I can use you that way.  Now  get dressed and go have lunch with your husband’, he said with a big smile on his face. ‘I know what you two do in his office every day, and come back at 4:00 so I can remove the plug and use you again.’”

Provocative, to say the least.

Molly seemed amused when I gave her a synopsis of the story on the phone, and I suggested that she read it on her I-phone (though only after she had parked her car).  I also had another suggestion:

“Why don’t you give M a call, it will help pass the time, keep you awake on the long drive back this evening.”

“Hmmm….would he mind?”

“I think he’d enjoy hearing from the famous Molly.”

“Maybe….”

WE had M’s real name and it was not hard to find his number. I sent it via text to Mistress.

Later that afternoon, Molly called me back on her drive home. 

“Well, I talked to M.”

“How was that, Mistress.”

“Fun. We talked about our mutual ‘challenges’, the blog, skiing. Maybe all of us getting together sometime this summer. (M has a wife who takes charge too.) I think he was surprised to hear from me.”

No doubt.

“How was his voice, Mistress?”

Voices are important to Molly.

“Nice, Slave.”

When Molly got home she was bone tired from that long drive. She got a long massage from her Slave, with particular attention to back, neck and feet.

But by now she is well rested, and I am hoping that more than a massage is in order before we head to work.

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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?