Some of our comment makers and correspondents have expressed curiosity about the outcome of Sunday’s interrogation. Of course, the one sure thing was a mighty climax to the whole affair with Mistress, as always, going first. (Not to telegraph the ending).
But the little plot line I had been developing in this blog and with Mistress over the weekend required something more elaborate, and took a devilish and unexpected turn for us.
First the set up: Mistress slept in a bit later than normal on Sunday. Was it because we had been out late listening to some Rockabilly music at a seedy bar with friends? Or was she delaying the “inevitable”.
When I finally went upstairs, NY Times and computer in hand, she awoke, and we cuddled a bit, going through our local paper in the few minutes it deserved, then shifting to my laptop. She read with somewhat uncomfortable giggles my entry posted earlier that morning.
But soon it was time for the “interrogation” to begin.
Mistress had slept naked, so there was no need for me to rip the cloths from her luscious body. A shame.
I locked her red leather cuffs to her wrists, linked with a little metal clip, then pulled them over her head. They were secured with a leather thong to a steel eyebolt at the center of our bedhead.
I rolled her over onto her stomach, sliding a pillow under her hips to give her smooth and sexy ass sufficient “loft” for what I had in mind.
Then I used some strips of a beach towel we had mutilated last fall at a Michigan B & B (necessity being the mother of invention), to tie first one ankle and then another to the posts at the foot of the bed. Mistress legs were spread very, very wide, ankles affixed to opposite ends of the bed. (Watch for these illustrations in a posting soon).
Now Mistress could squirm all she wanted to, but could go no where as I proceeded with my inquiry.
A few slaps to her ass with my hand warmed her up.
“I just have a few questions for you, Mistress.”
“I am not hiding anything, Slave”, she exclaimed, all cocky and confident.
“I recommend saving your confession until I have proceeded a bit further.”
Unhooking the riding crop from a nearby doorknob, I flexed it in my hands, making sure Mistress knew what she was going to experience next.
I unleashed a series of quick strokes to Mistress’s bottom that had her ankles straining against the ties tightly binding her to the bed.
“That hurts, Slave.”
“Does it loosen your lips some, Mistress?”
“I really have nothing to confess, Slave.” But she was sounding a bit less sure of herself.
“I hope that is not your final answer, Mistress”.
I used the crop to shower a series of far gentler blows to the plump and fluid lips protruding between Mistress’s legs. This resulted in some very nifty jerking and whining.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Her bottom squirmed from side to side. My fingers replaced the business end of the crop.
“You are very, very wet, Mistress.”
She ground herself against my digits, which emerged dripping. She seemed to like this part of the inquisition.
Soon I realized that my crop would not result in a “confession”. So I decided to change my tools of persuasion.
It was time to crank up the Hitachi Magic Wand.
As the machine began a low buzz in slow speed, Mistress raised her head off the pillow, craning her neck in my direction.
“Oh no, not that…”, But her tone was dripping with sarcasm, not fear.
I was determined to make her regret that haughty tone. She would not get the sort of orgasm the power tool delivers unless I got what I was looking for.
I used some sleight of vibrator hand at first. Sliding the white head of the tool directly between her legs, exactly where she wanted it to be.
“Nice, Slave”, she murmured.
The crop and my fingers had warmed her up to the point where a quickie climax could be had very promptly. But just as she began to pump with earnest against the churning device, I pulled it away, and let it rest against her inner thigh.
“Nooo…”
“What’s the problem, Mistress?”
“I want it slave. Don’t stop now.”
“What do you want, Mistress?”
“You know … I want to come. I want to come against that damn thing.”
“Well then …. You need to make it worth my while, Mistress.”
A dialogue developed in which Mistress asked me to be more specific. What did I think was going on? What did I want to hear? Did I expect her to make something up?
All the while I toyed with the device, gently sliding it to the apex of her thighs, then pulling it away as Mistress got a tad bit closer to her objective. Her mounting frustration was a marvel to behold. Isn’t this where the corrupt and lecherous Spanish Priests would require the sexy Jewess to sign the confession that had already been written up for her. I guess I should have come prepared with such a text.
Ultimately the confession was rather mundane. Yes, she had been in touch with her old flame E in recent weeks. He wanted to talk, To apologize for his fickle behavior in the fall. For getting her all hot and bothered and leaving her twisting in the wind.
Mistress had taken his call(s?). Had humored him, but with caution.It was unclear whether this was an ongoing flirtation between them, but I was not going to press my advantage any farther.
And yes, Mistress confessed that the thought of E taking her over his lap, punishing her with a nice firm spanking, and then making her suck his cock was still a powerful turn on for Mistress.
I told Mistress that all of that was fine with me. That I only wanted to feel included, rather than excluded from the cyber action.
I was satisfied with the candor I had wrung from Mistress. And she was to be rewarded.
She was still squirming as I took her “confession” and granted my absolution, my hand between her legs, gently fondling her and marinating my fingers in her juices.
I picked up the humming device and thrust it between her legs, then under her. Right where she wanted it.
Her leg muscles strained against their bonds, desperate to give her leaking parts better purchase against the vibrating head of the device.
I watched with delight as her ass humped against it, felt the tension in her leg and ass muscles build, and heard the muted roar building low in her lungs then bursting out into moan of satisfaction, which she tried but failed to bury in the pillow under her head.
She moved her hips back and forth against the tool to wring out the last of her orgasm, and I could hear her sobs of relief to have her “trial” over.
And I kept the device buried there for a while, wondering if I could get a two-fer out of her. But that was pressing her luck. She was exhausted.
“Off, Slave….please, turn it off.”Now she really was begging.
So I showed her mercy. At least for a few moments.
I let her rest a bit, as I stripped away my jeans and t shirt. Then I mounted her from behind, slowly sliding my hard cock into her soaking cunt. Of course, she was more than ready to be taken that way, and I rode her to another satisfying orgasm, first for her, then for me.
But that is not the end of the story.
Later that day, Mistress shared with me her trepidations about what had transpired.
Yes, the sex was good. Spectacular.
But Mistress felt that I was accusing her of dishonesty. And it brought back in a traumatic way her recollection of my own betrayal of her about 2 years ago. Somehow my suggestion of a lack of candor reminded her of my own lack of candor, back in those dark days for our relationship.
And though I had intended it all to be playful fun, to amuse ourselves and our readers, Mistress took the whole episode quite differently once all the sexual energy had been fully discharged.
So a lesson was learned by me about the limits of this switch thing. The reason I am the Slave and she is the Mistress goes back to my breach of trust.
A bridge was crossed during my interrogation that should not have been crossed.
In the last 48 hours, Mick and Molly have struggled with the consequences, and, thankfully, are on the mend. Hopefully those of you out there following these adventures will send some good vibes our way to help with that process.
Your encouragement, support, and snarky and/or smutty repartee have made life better for us and will surely help us through a challenging patch. (You know who you are!!).
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Planning My Interrogation
Mistress seemed half part nervous and half part turned on about my announced plans to use my Sunday switch privileges to interrogate her yesterday. After I showed her the entry about my intentions for her on Saturday morning, she appeared rather anxious to get her “story” out there –
“Oh , those pictures…..yes, I did take them.
…Well I suppose they were intended for Sir M. ….But the wifi connection back in Florida was bad….then I just, well ….forgot about them, Slave.”
I told her that I did not want to talk about it at all, until I had her suitably “prepped” for my questions. By that I meant … vulnerable.
As she had read, my head was under the covers, buried between her smooth, thighs, already slick with the combination of her juices and my saliva.
“I think I am going to have you lick me for a while, Slave.”
No problem, there. It’s something I enjoy. And I did. For a while. Until Mistress was churning against my mouth and she exploded with a lovely orgasm.
I asked for permission to fuck her. My cock was hard and ready. And she had me mount her, our conventional approach. But after a while, and as I was getting close she changed the order of battle.
“I want to be on top now, Slave.”
“I want to be on top now, Slave.”
“No problem, Mistress.”
We rolled over, and Mistress began one of those long, slow and steady climbs to the type of climax she controls. It takes some effort, but the results always seem dramatically pleasing to her.
As she ground her cunt against me, my cock buried deep inside her, she asked
“What are you thinking about, Slave?”
Sometimes it takes a while to gather my thoughts in the midst of that sort of action. Was I thinking at all? Or just buried in the sensation of her strong, powerfully sensual body sliding along the length of mine? But I had an obligation to answer:
“Thinking how you did this with your Sir, Mistress….about you grinding so hard against another cock.”
That thought reminded me to play with her breasts, squeezing her nipples, the way she describes Sir M doing to her. Soon Mistress was reaching her crescendo, a muted roar coming from deep in her lungs, her back arching back, then her fingers toying with my balls from above as she came down to earth. Nice. Very nice.
Later that afternoon, after a visit from my grandson, we retired to bed for a nap, resting up for a late afternoon bike ride, then evening on the town.
Mistress had threatened to fuck me in the ass, but when we woke, we were in a more mellow mood, and found ourselves making a gentler form of love as the cobwebs cleared. But then Mistress elected to mount me again. And repeat the sort of earth moving orgasm that she had in the morning.
Our conversation turned to our Western correspondent, M, who had confirmed via email that he would be more than delighted to fuck Molly, but only with his very dominant wife’s permission:
“I bet you would like them both take charge of you, wouldn’t you Mistress?”
“That would be … ummm ….interesting, Slave.”
Yes , it certainly would. I imagined Mistress tied to a bed somewhere, these two randy and domineering westerners taking turns tormenting, then driving my mistress to erotic distraction. Again and again. They even have their own Magic Wand. Mistress likes that power tool.
Soon Mistress had built her slow ans steady pace on top of me to a frenzy, collapsing against me. Then we reversed positions and it was my turn to share in the fireworks.
That evening, we headed for a sushi dinner with some friends in an old neighborhood getting back on its feet with the help of some urban pioneers. On the way, Mistress again questioned me on my plans for her this morning.
“What do you think I have to confess, Slave?”
“Well we will find that out in the morning, Mistress.”
“Since you seem to get off on me fucking other men, why wouldn’t I tell you about anything that was going on?”
“That’s what we need to get to the bottom of Mistress….”
“What if I just make something up to get you to relent?”
“I hear that happens all the time, Mistress. Then I will have to question you more, and see if I can verify your story…. This could take a while.”
All of this was getting her flustered. And hot, I suspect.
And the really good news: the surly teens spent the night with friends. Any screams of pleasure or pain will fall on deaf ears. Wish I knew where you could rent a waterboard by the hour.
Can you hear my evil laugh?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Last weekend...
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?
Friday, April 30, 2010
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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