HNT / Happy Anniversary, Mistress.

Mistress is better at dates than I am. She’s a Democrat but has a memory like an Elephant/Republican.

Yesterday she reminded me it was the 22nd anniversary of our first sexual encounter (well she put it less delicately). Now that is an interesting story, worth sharing with all of our readers sometime. And what is the most stunning fact is that we are still at it, hotter and with more frequency than ever.

And no, despite Mistress’s sleek and youthful appearance, as documented by the attached photo taken during our Sunday session, I was not violating any laws about sex with minors that evening 22 years ago….

But I know from the howls of outrage we heard from at least one reader yesterday, you want to know what happened the other evening with Mistress and her Dom. Indeed, yesterday morning, as I used my mouth to pleasure Molly, and she read the blog, she laughed a bit at the abrupt ending …

“Ah, a cliffhanger.”

And when our western correspondent, M, called her on her dreary ride to the state capitol (yet again) yesterday morning, he pumped her for details. She simply put it off to me. Apparently she did not want to scoop this morning’s entry.

So let me pick up where I left off….

Mistress had a long day. The drive to and from our flat state capitol, then her delayed engagement with her Dom. But when she finally got home, around 10 pm or so, she seemed, well, refreshed. And very sexy in a black business dress, naked but nicely tanned legs, with stylish black pumps.

And she had that well fucked smile on her as she allowed me to greet her with a hig and a kiss.

Upstairs in our room, she was kind enough to offer to unlock my cage before doing all those preparations a glamorous sex goddess must do before hitting the pillow.

And that was a relief, in and of itself. Once freed of the ring and the metal enclosure, my cock began some stretching exercises of it’ own with little more than the stimulation that came from the night’s imaginations and the image of Mistress shedding that black dress.

In fact, she asked me to help her unzip, and I was happy to, letting my lips caress her back as I slowly ran the zipper down.

“Did he help you with this earlier, Mistress?”

“No Slave, I had to do it myself when he asked me to strip for him.”

But Mistress had warned me that morning…

“I think by the time I get home I am going to be too tired for sex, Slave. So be patient and be prepared to wait until morning.”

I figured I could handle that, but by now I was not so sure.

After what seemed like an hour, but was only a matter of minutes, Mistress settled into bed. I folded up against her, trying to avoid the potential frustration of pressing my hardening cock against her flanks. A finger settled on the clean shaven, and still a bit moist parts between her legs. Ah, she was back to me.

And she knew what I wanted to hear, the sordid details of her evening out.

She had that coy smile again.

“Well he used the handcuffs, Slave. And the blindfold.”

Argh.

I try to be cool on these occassions, and not immediately unleash a barrage of questions. Quite frankly, I don’t want to appear desperate for the details, or make Mistress feel that she can’t cling to the inherent mystery that naturally enshrouds any intimate relationship between two people.

But I do like the details (apparently some of our readers do as well). So I go about it slowly, like some horny Columbo, without the trench coat.

“I know you are tired, Mistress. But can I simply taste your cunt. I like to see if it tastes …different.”

Of course, what I meant is ‘can I taste the remnants of your Dom’s fingers and cock on you.’

“You may, Slave.”

I settled in between her legs, tongue gently probing, sliding across her delicate parts.

“Do I taste different, Slave?”

“Some…”

“How, Slave.”

“Oh, a little ..used…a bit gamier…like you have had some sex, then got dressed and came home to me, Mistress.”

Of course, there was no reason for her to wash away the evidence, was there.

Mistress reached down to feel my hard cock. And of course it was frustratingly hard. I simply squirmed and let out a pathetic moan as her fingers slowly trailed along the length of it.

“Oh, poor Slave. I will let you fuck me, but I may not be too energetic.”

My pathos had worked. And of course by now I would have been happy to fuck her if she was passed out.

Luckily she was still awake, and could answer a few more questions as I mounted her and took my time to fuck her properly.

“Did he kiss you when you arrived, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. He always does.”

“And how does he handle you with that kiss?”

“Well his hands roam Slave. To my breasts. My cunt. He really likes my breasts.”

“And does that turn you on Mistress? Does it make you wet?”

She giggles a bit, as I slide against her.

“What do you think, Slave?”

(Well it’s time to go upstairs and wake Mistress. Hopefully with more than a kiss…will “revise and extend” my remarks later.”

Waiting for Mistress

Mistress had a very busy day yesterday.

After locking me in my cage, she had to head up to our flat and dreary state capitol for a work engagement. What she had hoped would be a short mission was extended as she met with colleagues and worked her magic on the media and legislative bloviators.

But before I suited up for my day, she picked up her I-phone and clicked on the camera app.

“I want a picture of you in the cage to share with M, Slave”

Argh. Embarassing.

“Why, Mistress?”

“Well there is the sweet humiliation of it. Plus he claims that B makes him wear a cage sometimes. I was curious to know if it looks like your.”

I was too shocked, and too obedient, to object as she snapped her shot, and typed a brief email to M titled “Mick’s ready for work”, with the message “do you have one like this?”

She is a tease, isn’t she?



Back in River City, my mind was on her evening engagement with her Dom, who she had not seen in a few weeks.

At one point yesterday afternoon it seemed their appointment would be aborted once again because Mistress might have to spend the night up north. She sent a text to that effect, with the reassuring comment:

“If so, I will let you know where I hid the key.”

At first I thought, ”the key to the house?” Then I realized that she was being considerate about releasing me from my cage. She is a thoughtful Mistress. There are far crueler ones out there in the Blog-o-sphere.

But by early evening Mistress was headed home. And at first she planned to reschedule with Sir M. But the allure of his cock and more assertive manner must have been too tempting to pass up.

“I talked to him, Slave. He said I should stop by, even though it will be a shorter visit than we had planned.”

“I am sure he is desperate for you by now, Mistress.”

“He did seem excited about seeing me….”

“I am sure he did….”

We talked one more time before she made it to Sir M’s home. She shared a funny conversation she had with the other M, our western correspondent, who kindly rang her up to help her pass the tedium of that 2 hour drive.

“He seemed amused that I was heading to visit the Dom, and you were locked in the cage.”

“And did he comment on that embarrassing photo, Mistress?”

“He said your’s looks very industrial. His is plastic.”

Stainless steel does have that connotation.

At around 7 pm, as I was answering questions from a group of about 30 clients angry about an arbitrary decision by their employer, the little text message chime on my cell phone went off.

“Here, Slave.”

Mistress had arrived at Sir M’s house. Pavlovian fool that I am, my caged cocked twitched, even as I tried to focus on the audience before me. I could not help imagine that scene. Mistress in one of her elegant black work dresses, soon to be in the arms of someone who will call on her to strip it away and display her clean shaven cunt.

I knew it would be a long evening until I saw her again.

But I hear her upstairs now, and I have business to attend to. Will share the rest of the story with you tomorrow.

If You Want It Done Right ...

Last night was a busy workday for both Molly and Mick, followed by a political reception before we finally headed home, determined to take a bike ride before dark before more rain moved into town.

All along we had been simmering, denied our morning “exercise” by an early alarm. Bummer.

I did get to lunch with Mistress near her office, but, sadly, no time for worship. Over lunch, She did share some rather provocative text messages from our western correspondent, and discussed how she was anticipating a date this evening with Sir M. When Mistress is distracted by these other guys, that just makes her Slave want her all the more: something that Mistress no doubts enjoys. Hence the apparent taunting.

When we finally got home, and Mistress began to undress from her elegant black work dress, I was drawn to that spot of her back revealed when the zipper came down. My kisses seemed to make Mistress shiver a bit, and she pressed herself back against me. And my lips got just a taste of what I had been denied through the day. Yum.

But Mistress was not to be distracted from her ride before we lost the sun. She is properly focused on keeping us both in shape.

By the time we settled into bed later that evening, Mistress had decided what she wanted.

“I need the Hitachi, tonite, Slave”

Interesting. She had come magnificently as I applied it to her Sunday morning. Usually it takes a few days for her to want it again. But Mistress had been regaled by M with stories about how B likes to use that compelling tool on herself while forcing M to watch patiently. I wondered what was up.

I stripped for her, then retrieved the device from its hiding place before coming joining Mistress in bed. She had opened her laptop.

“I need to respond to M, then you can have your way with me, Slave.”

She typed away, updating me on her progress, which I could read over her shoulder. Here is a part of what she wrote:

“We finally did get to come home, ride our bikes, and now he is waiting for me to finish this with the Hitachi in hand.


Yes, I still owe you more of the story -- I can't decide what Mick will be permitted to do (have not figured out that part yet). I think that you left off with my being spanked and B playing with my nipples and it seemed that you were rubbing your cock against me. … we would guess what would happen next. Mick thinks (as if he has a say) that I should be required to suck your cock and lick her cunt...i did tell him that he would have to hold my hair out of the way (there is lots of it). Maybe, I would just grab B and take her to a local bar up the street, and we would do tequila shots with the locals -- and say screw you two with your hard cocks.”

As you can see, despite her best efforts, Mistress has a hard time with this whole submission thing. It will take a rather compelling and determined Master ever to make her a true subbie.

When Mistress was done she set aside the computer and gave me the go ahead. The mechanical humm of the Magic Wand filled the room, and Mistress hunkered down into the bed, spreading those delicious legs. I could detect the alluring scent of her arousal. Email as foreplay? In this case, apparently so.

I was planning the slow but steady climb to the mountain top for Mistress, sliding the soft white head of the tool against, Mistress’s inner thigh. But she was impatient, apparently wanting the quick and dirty assault to the peak.

“You know where to put it Slave, I want it now….”

Impatient. It had been a long day on simmer, apparently.

I slid the tool against Mistress’s naughtier parts, but apparently not firmly enough.

“Give it to me Slave….I will take over from here.”

And she did, grabbing the device with both hands, and pressing it against herself much more firmly than her lowly Slave had done. I guess I am too delicate with her.

“Make your cock hard Slave. I am going to want it once I have taken care of myself.”

“That’s not going to be a problem, Mistress.”

I had been hard since she started typing to M. I had been on simmer too for a while.

Her voice had a certain urgency now, breathing labored, her hips rising, wriggling against the churning head she pressed firmly against herself.

With one hand I stroked my cock, assuring it met Mistress’s standards. I placed the other over Mistress’s hands guiding the vibrator. I figured there was something to be learned here by some first hand monitoring of her urgent self-ministrations. I am a Slave who believes in the “continuous improvement” quality control mantra.

Within moments, Mistress had found her mountain top, with some dramatic thrusts of hips against machine, as she moaned and rolled side to side. While in this Slave’s humble opinion it did not rival the day before, when she was bound to the bed and frustrated to the point of begging, it was a sight to behold.

“Excellent work, Mistress.”

“Sometimes, if you want it done right, you have to do it yourself, Slave.”

“Apparently.”

“Why don’t you fuck me now, Slave”

And I was happy to accommodate that request.

Making a Mother Beg on Mother's Day

Here in River City we respect all Mothers. So our focus was on paying respect where respect is due. Dinner with three mothers in attendance was in store, and I had orders to prepare a smoked salmon and apple crisp, arrange for the planting of spring flowers, and allow Mistress to rest in the sun.

By the time the plates were cleared away, our relatively small gathering consumed two large slabs of Salmon that had lingered in the smoker most of the afternoon. Fortunately, a good chunk of the apple crisp is left over for Mistress to savor for her breakfast this morning.

But our readers do not come here for gastronomic adventures. So let me turn the clock back to the early morning hours of our Mother’s Day.

Mistress called me upstairs surprisingly early on Sunday. I had taken her to dinner, and then to a cozy, 60’s style bar for some drinks and dancing Saturday night. I had risen early and was working on my daily homework assignment when I heard the call.

“Slave, I’m awake.”

I gathered the morning papers and obediently trundled up the stairs with my computer, then finished my posting as Mistress paged through the local news. She approved the rather explicit photo of her shapely ass posted yesterday, no doubt thinking of the impact it might have on our Western correspondent, M, or her more local Sir M, once they examined it. She can be a tease.

Then we turned to our email in box and found an overnight message from M, who had enjoyed our homage to him in yesterday’s blog. He continued the fantasy of our hoped for “blog-up”, and had some instructions:

I think we/you are on to something here.  … I don't know any other long standing married couples who have sex as much as us/you.

But to get hot....Molly you are in serious need of a good sound bare bottom spanking.  Your dom M is not getting the job done.  I would send you and Mick to meet us in a hotel somewhere where B and I could properly discipline you while Mick watched (of course in his cock cage.)  B has always wanted to take a woman’s big nipples in her fingers, squeeze them tight, and twist then   She really is very dominant.  You would definitely be stripped naked for a very through inspection.  Very likely B would inspect your private parts too!

 In fact I'm ordering you (Molly) to continue this story tomorrow morning, after you two work it out in bed in the morning.  You two are two hours ahead of us.  Young lady ..I expect a full report in the morning!!!  Or you will receive a very sound bare bottom strapping!!!

As it happened it was our switch day, and I had some plans of my own that would dovetail very nicely with M’s instructions to Molly.

Once Mistress read through my blog entry with approval, I retrieved our red cuffs and locked them tight on her wrists, then rolled her over onto her tummy. I knew from last week’s episode to avoid an “inquisition”, but that would not prevent a bit of re-enactment along the lines that M proposed.

As I stroked Mistress’s lovely ass, she squirmed a bit, knowing what was to come.

“You’d like them both to spank you, wouldn’t you Mistress?”

“That would be …. interesting, Slave.”

I applied three sharp smacks to her bottom. The squirming intensified.

“It would be more than interesting, wouldn’t it. It would make you very wet, I’d bet.”

After several more swats, I reached between Mistress’s legs. Very wet indeed. I did my best evil laugh.

“Just thinking of it makes you all drippy, doesn’t it, Mistress?”

“Of course, Slave.”

I then proceeded to give Mistress the spanking that M contemplated. Firm. Hard. Relentless. Her bottom was glowing red by the time I stopped. And Mistress was moaning into her pillow. Hopefully, the background music I had turned on was enough to keep the sounds of those smacks and moans from disturbing the sleeping surly teen down the hall.

“That hurt, Slave.”

“I know, Mistress, but hopefully it will give you some inspiration to respond later to M.”

Now it was time for her reward. I reached for the Magic Wand, still nestled next to the bed, under the accumulated newspapers that sometimes annoy Mistress. (Am I looking for opportunities to be disciplined, or what?).

I switched it on. Mistress could hear the low, industrial strength hum.

“Oh goodie….”

But this was not going to be a quickie.

The tool slid between her thighs. Mistress lifted her ass to accommodate it. I was not to be so  accommodating. Her cunt just got a few gentle touches.

“More, Slave.”

“Patience, Mistress. Tell me what happens next with M and B. After the spanking?”

“Well ….”

A slight encouraging touch with the wand.

“Oh,,,yes…right there, Slave….

But I pulled back.

“Go on.”

“You are cruel …..I guess they would make me go down on both of them….”

“You mean sucking his cock, Mistress?”

The wand slid further between her legs. Her muscles tensed.

“Yes….Oh that’s good.”

“And licking B’s cunt, Mistress?”

“That too, Slave.”

She ground herself against the soft white head of the tool. But I pulled back a bit.

“What would I do, Mistress.”

“Why you would hold my hair out of the way.”

The image of all that: Mistress on her knees, maybe her hands tied behind her, and me accommodating her degradation, while locked in my cage, made my cock twitch. But I was not so easily tempted to cut to the chase.

I abruptly stood up, switched the wand off.

“Where are you going!”

I liked that frustrated tone in her voice.

“Getting the camera, Mistress.”

I snapped some photos as Mistress squirmed in frustration. Then used some leather cuffs to attach her ankles together, before snapping a few more shots.

“That’s going to make it harder to get to me, Slave.”

“No…it will just make it a bit harder for you to come, Mistress.”

But I knew that she could angle herself to accommodate the wand with a little of the straining that made those thigh and butt muscles clench so appealingly.

“Now where were we?”

After a few more minutes of torment, we finally got to the good part.

“You’re not coming until you really beg, Mistress.”

Her moan spoke to her frustration.

“I am begging, Slave.”

“How would it sound if you were begging M and B, or Sir M, and then just kept saying ‘No’”

“Don’t do this to me….Please, please let me come….”

The wand was under her now, her cunt pressing down hard on it, her whole body straining and vibrating in harmony with it. But she was holding herself back…in a place where she felt a need to obey….to wait until I gave her clearance. And I could tell her frustration was mounting.  Oh this was fun!

But ultimately, I was a dutiful and loving Slave. And it ws Mother’s Day, after all.

“Alright, Mistress. M and B give you permission to come. “

“Oh God….thank you Slave.”

But that was just the beginning of a process. It took Mistress about 60 seconds to turn off the “do not come” signals she had so frustratingly given her body, and switch to “full steam ahead” mode. And that process was a wonder to behold.

The moans, the clenched and tightened muscles, the to and fro, and the up and the down. Then the roar of desire and satisfaction she tried to bury in the pillow under her head. And finally, the sobs and the tears running down her cheek, reddening her eyes. And then the  relaxation of all those previously tensed muscles into a satisfied (but shapely) heap.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mistress.