HNT / After Hours in Slave's Office

We knew it would be a long one when the day started. Mistress’s new job has kept her running from meeting to meeting. And Wednesday morning started early, so there was no time for our regular a.m. sex-capade.

Our plans included dinner with some friends, then a late night at a local Jazz Joint to hear River City’s premier Diva pay interpret some of those American Standards.

So we planned a 6 pm meet-up at my office for some worship as the workday ended and before out evening began. I figured I might not get any (it was my Abstinence Day after all), but was prepared to “offer at up” just like the nuns had taught me all those years and rosaries ago.

But our semi-chaste plans were derailed, in part by provocation from our Western Correspondent, and Mistress’s uncontrolled (or is it uncontrollable) need to pander to his prurient interests.

Mid morning, Mistress forwarded me an email from Western M, which read in part:

“Loved the post this morning but it got me feeling very dominant. In fact I have been feeling that way since Sunday [the day they had that naughty phone sex]. Wonder why? B is going to get royally fucked this morning after I take the kids to school. She is also going to get a long hard bare bottom spanking ,.... which she richly deserves.”

Hmmm. It’s M who usually gets the spanking. B must have been a very bad girl. But he went on:

“I mentioned phone sex when you guys are driving home some night. That sounds like fun and we should do it sometime, but not the first time we perform with an ‘audience’ so to speak. My reasons are these: Everybody is too stressed after work, especially you Molly (and you are the one who has to perform)....You will be nervous masturbating in the car in public...I need to learn your triggers better... I need to train you better to my voice....and there would be no Hitachi. Don't want a failed attempt.

If you guys want to do this the first time should be with you two in bed ..... More comfortable surroundings...the hitachi...and an ‘assistant’ in case I need a nipple or clit pinched to get your attention Molly.

And as long as I am giving orders, Molly I expect you to make yourself available sometime this weekend for my pleasure. It’s good to have a twitchy clit during a hard day at work. You should be sitting on a red hot bottom too. B is going to be, and it’s good for her.

Hope this finds you hot and bothered, M”

Mistress’s response, which she also forwarded to me, confirmed that the email did make her “hot and bothered”, and of course that pushed my buttons too. Though I don’t think M needs any help in getting Mistress off once the Hitachi is turned on and he takes charge.

When I talked to Molly a few minutes later, I suggested that we might want to consider something more than worship. I was hoping to collect my “sex in the office” rain check from last week. Molly was game, and apparently shared our plans with M (what a tease), who sent me an email with some encouraging words. An odd triangle was developing, with Molly at the apex, and one of the participants about 1000 miles away. Yes, dear readers, it is weird.

When Mistress strode into my office at around 6 pm, all sexy and commanding in her business wear of black dress, pearls and pumps, she had her I-phone out.

“I was talking to M on the way over. He wants us to send him some pictures.”

And sure enough, when I came back from retrieving an ice tea for us, Mistress was snapping a photo – pearls resting on silky black undies set off against the royal blue of an upholstered chair. She sent it off to M via text.

The door was closed, and a chair pressed against it. Minimal security, but hopefully enough to keep the cleaning staff at bay. Mistress asked me to unzip her dress, and I complied, kissing the back of her neck, then running my hands over her breasts with some gentle squeezes thrown in.

She unbuttoned my pants, freed my belt, and let my pants fall to my ankles. My cock was already growing in stature. Then she picked up her camera again, snapped a shot of me from the waist down, in my state of semi-undress, and sent that one off to M. Yikes.

I spread a blanket on the floor, and Mistress lay there, now completely naked.

“This is the money shot, Mistress. And it’s HNT tomorrow.”

“Ok, Slave, but I get to approve.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Mistress posed provocatively for me. I snapped. It met her high standards. Mistress is a control freak about her image, as you might expect. Then she worked the controls to make sure M got a sneak peak at what you are seeing above here today. Hope you enjoy.

Then we did what Mick and Molly do. Me nibbling on her naked cunt until she bucked against my mouth, stifling her moans to keep the cleaning crew at bay. Then me taking her on the carpet, once permission was granted, begging for the chance to come when the time was right. It was a very satisfying way to break the sexual tension that M had stoked through the day.

When we came up from air, Mistress checked her I-phone and there were a few texts from M in response to those photos, including:

“Hey….are you lunatics trying to kill me….I’m riding my bike home here.”

I hope M had his helmet on.

Mistress Likes to Tease

An intriguing dynamic in the Collins household these days is Mistress’s fascination with and incendiary turn on by the idea of her own submission, even as she wants to maintain a tight grip on her husband as Slave. My past misdeeds do not qualify me for the role of Master. She believes I need to be kept on a short leash.

And although I do believe I can be trusted, I must admit I get that little cock twitch whenever she asserts her rights as Mistress. Examples: being told to insert my little white probe as she did before we had sex last night; or when she gently pumps my cock and makes me beg for the privilege of fucking her. She likes to tease, and she makes me her little groveling puppy whenever she does it.

But Mistress clearly gets off on the idea of obeying the sexual demands of a strong male asserting his rights to her sexy little body. And darned if that does not get me off too.

This morning our blog-stress colleague SFP talked about failing to follow Mr. C’s orders to go to the bedroom, strip and stretch out on the bed. Was she looking for a firmer hand? Or was it an inadvertent miscue?

In any event, that’s not an order Molly would have much trouble following. Last week during her visit to Sir M he told her to go upstairs and strip for him while he attended to some tasks down there. She was happy to talk to me about it, knowing it would only make me want her more:

“And did you follow that order, Mistress?”

“Of course, Slave …. “

I imagined her sliding out of her black dress, panties and bra, folding them neatly over a chair and then reclining in the bed. He probably had left the handcuffs and blindfold out for her to see and anticipate. I imagined her heart racing a bit, anticipating. And her cunt beginning to flood.

“What was it like waiting for him, Mistress? Were you turned on?

“Yes, Slave, of course….”

And I can imagine her there, on his bed, posed in just the right way to entice him, make his cock twitch, the moment he enters the room. It’s the type of tease designed to make him use his hands and cock to take charge and use that sexy body in the ways he sees fit.

I can tell Mistress also has also been teasing Western Correspondent. But it’s a different type of tease than I get.

It’s a tease that demands a firm hand to correct. She’s taunting him to take charge, to make her call him “Sir”, and make her submit to his directives. Over the phone for now. But with the promise of more when they get the chance to meet. And I suspect that M will know just how to handle her when and if he gets the chance.

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.