Making Mistress Squirm

Yesterday was one of those days where this blogger had an abundance of material to work with, so excuse me if I spread my reporting over two parts. You don’t want me to skip the good parts do you?

Sunday morning: After some coffee and paging through the papers, I informed Mistress that it was time for her to surrender control for our weekly switch ritual. The  red leather cuffs came out, and the  little locks secured them in place. And without much aforethought, Mistress arms were spread and secured to a long braided leather rope that stretches around the head of our bed, leaving her on her back, rather than facing down.

“Oops. What was I thinking. I can’t really spank you this way. I may have to resort to torture by teasing….”

Mistress gave me a faux worried look.

“I might prefer the spanking, Slave.”

We’d soon find out.  I cuddled up next to her, no reason to rush, and began kissing, sucking, fondling with mouth and fingers. It did not take long for Mistress to begin to squirm, her naughty parts damp and inviting.

I slid away, stood up.

“Where are you going?”, Mistress moaned, with a little slightly frustrated pout on her smiling lips.

“Tools, Mistress. We need tools.”

The riding crop was hanging from a door knob. The Hitachi Magic Wand was tucked away in her closet.  I retrieved both.

First the crop.  I slapped it with medium force down against her, high up on her thigh.

“Hey, that hurt”, she whined, clearly startled.  “That’s not where you are supposed to use that.” 

“Maybe the crop’s not just for bottoms anymore, Mistress.”

“Look….there’s a welt where you hit me.”

Sure enough, there was a cute red mark, perfectly shaped like the head of the crop, rising in a little puff on Mistress’s smooth and unblemished thigh. Oops.

I slapped the crop very gently against her cunt, which seemed to flinch away, but then responded more welcomingly when I began to slide it’s head slowly and suggestively against her swollen lips.

“Maybe we should go for some symmetry, Mistress.”

I walked to the other side of the bed. She fruitlessly pulled on her restraints, tried to squirm away, but to no avail. I slapped the crop down against her. 

“”Owww….you’re mean.”

But she seemed to admire the matching welt that popped up so promptly on her right thigh. And seemed pleased when I put the crop down and slid back against her in the bed, Hitachi  plugged in and at the ready.

“You get just a taste now, Mistress.”

I turned on the power tool, let it press ever so gently against Mistress’s clit, which seemed to be poking out to meet it.

“Harder, Slave. Press it harder against me.”

“Now that’s the sort of desperation I like to hear, Mistress”.

I shut it down.

Instead, I slid on top of her. Her legs were spread wide. My cock was hard. The mark was easy to find. I filled her much to my satisfaction. But not to hers.

“Hey, what about my orgasm?”

Mistress is spoiled. She always gets at least one before I am allowed to fuck her. As it should be.  But not today?

“I fell like fucking you now, Mistress. And so it shall be.”

But it was not going to be a fast one. I slid deeply into her, pressed myself home and began to kiss her. Deep and long, as my hips gently worked against her sliding very, very slowly, back and forth. There was no rush. And I wanted to make both of us last. I believe I had her on the brink a few times as the minutes passed. Her breathing slowed, speeded, slowed again.  5, maybe 10 minutes passed. Nice.

But when I knew I could not take it much longer, I slowly pulled away. Mistress had a dreamy look in her eye. But she was no less horny than when I started.

“Nice, Mistress….but I know that wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted the superior weaponry that our power tool represents.” If they improve these things much more, cocks could become obsolete.

She didn’t deny it, by the way. Just seemed grateful as I propped myself up next to her, and switched the Hitachi  on.

But It was not a direct, dumbed down assault, much to her continued frustration. I advanced, then withdrew, threw in some feints, a commando raid or two. I mounted the blue “torpedo” to the end of the device, and teased her with that a bit, sliding it’s full width into her.

“I like it the other way better, Slave.”

“Let’s see if I can change your mind, Mistress.”

I pressed it deep into her, poking for the g-spot. It was a good way to make her writhe and wriggle. I like that, if only for the opportunity to alliterate when I write it all down.

She almost gave in to that approach, despite her demands for the little white bulb on her clit. By this point, I began to feel a little mercy, and was getting pretty darned horny for release myself. So I took the blue accessory  off. It was time for the final assault.

I misdirected  her with some flanking movements, as I asked her to consider what our Western correspondent M and his wife B would do to her if she ever fell into their clutches.

We ran through the options. Spanking. M taking the ass he so coveted. B taking her with that strap-on, etc., etc.  All the while the tool was very un-subtly pressing against her, exactly where she wanted it. It was amusing to watch her thigh muscles tense, then relax, then tense again as she pressed herself against the white bulb. She was oh so close.

“What if they played with your cunt just like this, Mistress. But said that if you came without their permission, you would have to endure a very hard spanking as punishment.?”

“I think I’d be tempted, Slave.”

It seemed that this thought was the one that became the final straw. Mistress lunged against the power tool that I pressed against her, her arms straining against the bindings that pinned her to the bed.

She moaned, clutching at it with her  thighs. And when she was done with that one, I pressed on, unrelenting, until, moments later, she did it all over again.

I showed mercy then, switching it off as she relaxed back against the bed, her face red and puffy, as if she’d had a long cry.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

And of course, I was desperate to oblige.

Sunday Afternoon: After we recovered we spun off into our sundry Sunday activities. Some yard work. My tedious visit to “Grammy”. And I had an appointment with one of our teens to see Ironman II.  After the movie, we got home early evening in time to whip up some dinner.

I found Mistress on the bed, slightly disheveled, with that “Cat Ate the Canary” look on her face. Something was up.

“What are you gloating about, Mistress?”

“Oh…interesting afternoon, Slave.”

I could tell that the interesting stuff had to do with some “bad” behavior.

“Really?”

“Some phone sex with our friend.”

“Which friend?”

Well this is where we need to break. Time to wake someone up.

Slave's "Evil" Intent

Molly and Mick had a way overscheduled Saturday: fancy lunchoen in downtown River City, then a baseball game with some friend. Yes, we did squeeze in some rewarding sex when we woke, but not the type that cried out for documentation here.

But today is another day ... and it's our switch day. The surly teens are off at "sleepovers". This could present an opportunity for me to press some of the buttons that make Mistress loudly express both her (temporary) pain and her pleasure.   So stay tuned....

Slave Gets a Rain Check

When Mistress visited me at my office yesterday she had a surprise.

She had an early conference call that morning. So I knew that I was unlikely to get the privilege of fucking her. Instead, I slid under the sheets as she read yesterday morning’s entry, and proceeded to please her with my tongue.

I really can’t get enough of  that particularly sweet taste now that her Dom requires her to go hairless. So this was as much for my benefit as hers. And when she put down the laptop, and focused on what I was up to, it did not take her long to go over the top and take her pleasure, bucking against my devouring mouth.

But then she was up and to the showers.

“Sorry, Slave….”

“No problem Mistress. I’m a big boy. I think I can wait until this evening.”

Later as I took my shower, my mind drifted back to our morning’s activity, some of the things she had mentioned about her evening earlier this week with her Dom, and my cock began to thicken….argh.

I  touched it - one long stroke - and it was …. needy.  But I knew better. It took some will power to remind myself that I no longer had permission for such things. I tried to mentally focus on more mundane matters – the meeting with a client I had scheduled. Soon things were back under control.

By the time we were driving to work, and Mistress’s crossed ankles and naked feet were stretched out onto the dash, with my hand resting high on her soft and freshly moisturized thigh, I was beginning to regret my impressive self-discipline. It would be a long day. I mentioned to Mistress that I was a more than a bit horny for her.

“Oh…poor Slave. (can you hear the playful sarcasm).You will just have to wait.”

A well manicured finger slid oh so lightly across my pants, just below the belt line. And like some foolish rodent out of a Pavlovian experiment, I was jerking to attention.

But that was all from Mistress fingers. She wisely let me focus on my driving duties.

Mistress made it a little harder for me just before lunch time.

She stopped by for some worship between meetings, and the ritual changed a bit.  I placed her throne against the door (there is no lock), but before she slid her black panties down, she reached for my belt.

“Huh?”

“You said you were horny, Slave…remember.”

Soon my pants and underwear were around my ankles, and Mistress was leaning over, her mouth open and taking in my cock.

“Is this how he makes you perform, Mistress?”

Mistress’s lips parted long enough to mumbling an assent. 

I was imagining her naked, seated on his bed, and him presenting a cock for her ministrations. And of course by now, mine was hard and longing.

But it’s hard for me to focus on such things in my office. I was all dressed up in my blue suit, dress shirt and tie, to attend a civic leader’s funeral that afternoon.

So when Mistress suggested we clear my desk and that I take her there and then, I reluctantly demurred.

Was it the commotion in the hallway or the unlocked door? Or was I just too fussy about messing up my funeral costume with all that sweat and goop sure to be generated? It had me a little too angsty to perform for her.

Mistress laughed at my reluctance.

“Don’t say I didn’t offer, Slave.”

She gave me a rain check.

Hopefully her feelings were not hurt. Instead She spread her legs, slid down her panties and I knelt there for her, my pants still at my ankles. My cock still firm, but knowing I would have to wait until later.

After lunch, and before I headed to the funeral, I got an email from out western correspondent, M. Mistress had clearly texted him about my foolish decision. (She does like to tease M, as much as he enjoys teasing her.)

“Mick, I’m shocked ….propriety at last. Molly said she asked you to fuck her but you didn’t want to get messy. I’m Shocked. Very funny.”

Now I had let down both Mistress and our most devoted fan.  Though I must say it gave me a buzz to think of Mistress sharing my refusal to perform with her partner in flirtation.

But there is a happy ending. We came home to an empty house, and after a nice sweaty bike ride, had some nice sweaty time in bed before dinner.

And later, after dinner and an episode of the Pacific, I could not help but ask for permission to taste Mistress one more time. And my tasting led to a firm cock, which she pumped with her hand until my pitiful whimpering and begging made her sympathetic to my pleas to fuck her one more time.

And as we fucked, I took the opportunity for a little more Q and A from her Tuesday evening with Sir M:

“I forgot to mention in the blog the other day that once he had you handcuffed and blindfolded , lying there on his bed, he fed you his cock…”

“Yes, I noticed that Slave….why didn’t you mention that?”

“I think I got lost in the narrative…. But was that a surprise when he did that?”

”Yes….with the blindfold, it was hard to tell what would happen next.”

“was he holding your arms down, over your head.”

“Ummmm ….yes Slave.”

How did that make you feel, Mistress.”

“Controlled ….very submissive.”

“And did it turn you on….to have that cock filling your mouth?”

“Yes Slave…it did.”

“And were his fingers buried in your cunt as you sucked his cock, Mistress?”

My thrusts were quickening now, and Mistress was getting close to another climax.

“Yes, Slave…he was playing with me … with his fingers …. as I sucked him.”

“And did he make you come that way, as you pleasured him with your mouth, Mistress.”

“Yes ….I did …Slave ….he made me come that way.”

I surmised that there was no begging involved, her mouth full and all, and soon my pumping had her over the top, and then me begging for my own permission.

It was nice to collect my rain check.

Mistress Makes an Office Call

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.