Mistress's Caller

Picking up where we left off:

It’s Sunday afternoon. Slave returns from Ironman II with a sullen but amused teen (You do need to see Scarlett Johanssen in this one fellow subs: very Domme-ish); Mistress is lying in bed, laptop in hand, looking disturbingly well fucked. Wearing a cotton sundress. Yet it had not been Slave doing the fucking, not since earlier that morning.

“And which ‘friend’ did you have phone sex with, Mistress?”

“Our Western Correspondent, Slave. You weren’t around. I told him it had been 10 hours….”

Why was my cock lurching to life at the thought of this particular M (remember, there are two of them) getting so intimately into Molly’s head and panties, though remotely. Yes, I am a bit twisted, I know.

“Whoa. Back up please, explain what happened, Mistress.”

I lay down on the bed next to Mistress, who had that sparkle of a good adventure in her eye.

“Well, I was at the grocery….”

“He didn’t get you off in the produce section did he?.”

No, Slave….let me tell the story….”

She rolled over on top of me, giggling about the tale she had to tell. Sadly, I had my jeans on, and she had on some panties, or I could have slid into her then and there.

“We had been texting. Back and forth. Silly stuff. At some point I told him I was horny. That you were at the movies and it had been hours and hours since we had fucked.”

“True. But it was a good one. Go on….”

“Yes, it was very good, Slave. But maybe very good just makes me want more…. Anyway, He texted back that maybe I should go home and take care of that problem.”

“And you said?”

“That maybe I would do just that ….that’s when he texted that if I wanted he would be happy to coach me through it….tell me one of his dom stories.”

M has shared some of those stories by emails, about his crazier exploits, before he submitted to his wife B. And recently they have drifted into “B and M make Molly grovel” territory. I thought I knew where this was heading….


“So you came home, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave….and I texted that he could call me. And he did.”

By now our recently entertained daughter was hungry, and made that clear. So we were forced to suspend the story for dinner preparation, despite the fact that my cock was dying to take Mistress then and there.

Salmon was grilled. Peapods were sautéed. Food was consumed. We rushed through the cleanup, to get back in bed ASAP to finish the story. But this time Mistress and Slave were naked.

“Put in your device, Slave. I may need a very hard cock to finish this story.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Mistress.” But of course I complied, lubricating the little while probe before sliding it into me. Instant hard-on.

Back in bed the narrative resumed.

“So first thing he did was tell me to get the Hitachi. I had a little trouble finding where you put it Slave.”

“But you did?”

“Yes, plugged it in and turned it on at his command.”

“And what did he tell you to do next, Mistress?”

“Put it right against my clit.”

“And you said?”

“I said, Ok….but he told me that it was “Yes, Sir.”

“”I bet that turned you on…”

“Oh, yes, it did….”

I had been pressed up against Mistress, sliding my fingers over her oozing cunt, making her shudder and gasp a bit as she re-told and relived her experience. She was getting close.

“And what was in the story, Mistress?”

“Well it’s hard to remember the details, it was all a blurr…he was telling me what to do with the Hitachi, exactly where to put it….he was like the guy who calls the square dance. He definitely knew how to get me there.”

And somehow that made my cock all the harder. I accelerated my massage of her cunt, knowing after that I would be allowed to press inside her.

“But his story, Mistress….what did they do to you?”


“Oh, there was an inspection. I was naked, on all fours. They were pressing and probing and fingering me.”

“Did you like that?”

“I am sure I would. At some point I was sucking his cock, and at some point she was sitting on my face, her juices all over me….”

At this point Mistress took a break in the story and jerked hard and long against my fingers. I will give the story teller an assist on that one.

I let her catch her breath a moment, then begged for permission to fuck her. She generously consented. And I assumed my position. At last.

But the Q and A resumed.

“And did you ultimately come for him and the Hitachi, Mistress?”

“Oh yeah….I really came. I think he was impressed.”

“I am sure….was he playing with himself throughout all this?”

“No…he was driving to the grocery. We were both picking up fish for dinner. “

We laughed. But I continued to work against, Mistress, while toying with her breasts and nipples. Getting closer myself. I imagined Mike wheeling a cart, while telling Molly this nasty little story. Or maybe sitting in his car in the parking lot at COSTCO.

“But I bet it made him hard, Mistress.”

“Yes…I asked him if he was. And he said so.”

Soon I stopped the Q and A and took my own pleasure from Mistress. But her afternoon of taking directions from our Western Correspondent was not done.

“Uhhh ….Slave….there was one other thing he required during that session.”

Mistress seemed surprisingly embarrassed. It takes a lot to make her blush these days.

“Yes?”

“He demanded a picture….he texted the pose he requires.”

“And you agreed?”

“Of course, Slave. I was in no position to say no. You had to be there.”

I wish I had been….

So slave was required to take the picture that mistress forwarded to her new, Cyber Dom. It’s far too explicit for posting here. She’s naked, on her knees and elbows, butt exposed, well manicured nails spreading herself in submission.

A nice thank you gift for an orgasm well orchestrated.

Yesterday I sent an email to M thanking him for the extra titillation delivered to Mick and Molly on Sunday. What makes Molly happy always makes her Slave happy.

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.