Mistress has been a very busy worker bee this week, but found some time to stop by for a visit to my office yesterday, and she was in a particularly playful mood.
She has been receiving occasional and somewhat flirtatious messages from our western correspondent, M, which she has shown to me to get my own juices flowing. And her somewhat salacious responses to M show that Mistress is keen to give as good as she gets.
So when she arrived at my office, and I was pulling her “throne” up against my door, she pulled out her I-Phone.
“Maybe we should send M some photos, Slave.”
“Oh I am sure he would like that. What did you have in mind?”
Mistress sat on the chair, which I had covered with a blanket we use for these purposes. No point in getting the upholstery all wet and sticky.
“How about the Domme’s view as you kneel and lick me, Slave?”
I blushed a bit, considering how the top of my balding head would look from above, planted between Mistress’s spread thighs. But of course, if I objected on those grounds it would only encourage her. I tried a bit of misdirection instead.
I was on my knees now, peering at Mistress’s lovely, clean shaven parts.
“I could take a Slave’s eye view of your cunt, Mistress. That would really drive him crazy.”
She gave me that look, like I was crazy.
“No way is he getting that, Slave.”
Of course, I suspect that if Molly and M ever got together, M would get (or should I say take) a whole lot more.
“How about one of your ankle with those black panties draped around it.”
That’s where Mistress’s panties had ended up, draped around her right ankle, her legs spread wide for me as my head ducked down to taste her. Yum. She was already wet and quite delicious. All this talk, and the thought of a pictorial sharing of our office ritual, had already gotten Mistress’s juices flowing. There is no small part exhibitionist in my lovely sex goddess.
“Good idea, Slave.”
As I lapped and sucked at her, pulling her lit red bud out between those swollen pink lips with my lips and teeth, I could hear the faux shutter snap sound of Mistress’s i-phone. And then one leg and then another wrapped over my shoulders pulling me closer to her. Her cunt was particularly needy today.
She came with a sudden shudder and some ragged breathing as she tried to avoid sharing the sounds of her pleasure with my office mates. But her legs held me in tightly between her legs. I was buried between her legs, almost struggling to breath as I sucked with a renewed determination.
“Keep going, Slave. I don’t think we are done just yet.”
More snapping. More sucking. Then another convulsion against my laboring lips.
“That was ….good, Slave.”
Her legs slowly relaxed, then freed me, and I slid back. All of this had made my cock particularly hard. But I knew that it would have to wait until later for the attention it craved.
Mistress giggled as she stood and thumber her way through the photos she had snapped as I worshipped. The one above was my favorite, and she sent it to M via text message. But she also sent the more humiliating shots too, featuring my balding head, and her leg draped over and around my neck.
M had a virtual ringside seat to our little worship session, and now our other readers do too.
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?”
As I continued to slowly take my pleasure from Mistress, she filled in more details in response to my questions…he fixed her a drink, and let her come down from her long day with some small talk and a tour of his yard project….but then it was down to business.
“And then, Mistress?”
He told me to go upstairs and strip for him, Slave. That he would join me in a few moments and expected me to be prepared for him.”
“And you followed his orders?”
“Of course, Slave.”
“And did you call him ‘Sir’?”.
“Yes Slave. What else would I call him?”
By now I was getting impatient, in several ways. I wanted to hear the story. I also wanted to come…but I needed to put the breaks on the latter until the story was done.
“And so he joined you in the bedroom?
“Yes, I was ready for him. Naked.”
“Did he appreciate that naked cunt he requires?”
“Well he really didn’t mention it. I think he’s used to it.”
And what happened next, Mistress?”
“The handcuffs, Slave. And the Blindfold.”
“How did he put on the cuffs, Mistress? In front? In back?”
In front. He had me lay on the bed then, my hands over my head.”
She described how he used his fingers to explore her body, as one hand held her hands over her head.
“He squeezed and sucked my nipples, Slave. He loves my breasts. He made me come with his hand ….”
And as she squirmed under me, and as I pumped into her, I imagined my Mistress, controlled, writhing, and submitting to this other man’s desires.
It was about then that I asked Mistress for permission to come. I really could not hold off any longer. And she generously consented. No doubt she was a bit tired of being fucked, so my explosive release probably came as a relief to her too.
And as we came down, Mistress in my arms, she finished the story for me. She described how he fucked her after a good bit of teasing and frustration, her legs over his shoulders.
“Did he keep the cuffs on you, Mistress?”
“Yes, Slave. He did for a while.”
“How did that feel Mistress?”
“Good Slave. Like I was his prisoner. “
“I am surprised he didn’t decide to keep you.”
She just shivered. Cuddling closer to me. I was glad she had her adventure, and even even more delighted that she had come home to me.
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.”
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.
