Mistress Takes, Then Gives the Orders

Mistress and our Western correspondent were at it again Saturday.

At around noon I arrived home from some morning errands, young grandson in tow. It was his day to hang out with “grampy”. I could see Mistress up on the deck. Stripped down to shorts and sports bra, taking in some of the sun peeking through heavy humid clouds. She had her phone to her ear.

She stood, smiled down at me. “It’s Mike …. He wants to know when we might be available this afternoon.”


Hmmm. So the question was….did Slave want to sit in as Mistress had suggested, bound to a chair, and watch the next act in their remote, mutual seduction. Or would I choose to pass, let them have their fun, and hear about it later.

Hard choice. But I opted for door number two: despite my overwhelming curiosity, I was thinking that M needs to train Mistress a bit more deeply – get her compulsively hooked on the command and control of his voice, before I joined the party. At least that was my choice on a day when I was given a choice. Mistress certainly had the authority to tell me exactly what to do, at least until she surrenders that authority to someone else.

“Why don’t you proceed without me today Mistress. Of course, I could be downstairs…somewhere else in the house.”

Now into the phone: “He says he does not need to sit in today….but could be downstairs.”

The rest I did not hear as Mistress sat back down in her chair. The thought that they were excitedly planning their afternoon “cyber-date” had my cock getting all thick and needy, even as I was unloading some groceries and the little grandson.

Later that afternoon, I announced I was taking him to his next stop. Mistress kissed us both goodbye, and I could tell she was moving onto her next engagement.

“Looking forward to your report.”

She gave me a hug and another kiss, with a bit of tongue thrown in. Then a whisper into my ear.

“Oh you will hear ALL the details, Slave. And then I’m going to fuck you in the ass.”

Yikes. I tried to put that out of my mind so I could focus on the drive to the next set of grandparents’ home, where they would take over grandson duties. But the drive back seemed interminable. My mind was filled with images of Mistress, guiding the Hitachi between her legs under his command. And the plans she had in store for me afterwards.

At home I found Mistress on the deck again, phone in hand.

“Well, Mick’s home now, so I guess I should hang up. We have some plans….”

She laughed, then signed off, that “cat that ate the canary” look in her eyes once again. Then she turned to me.

“Why don’t we go upstairs, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

In our room, she lounged on the bed, stripped to sports bra, but nothing else.

“Why don’t you fetch my harness and strap-on, Slave. I’m going to need it after I tell you how things went with M.”

I dug her equipment out of the closet, found the lubricant, and began my Q and A as she was sliding into it and tightening the belt. Mistress looked very dominant once she was fully suited up. Then she settled into bed next to me.

“So how did it go, Mistress?”

“Good slave …except I probably came too fast ….he didn’t get to finish the story.”

“How were you dressed, Mistress?”

“He asked that…in a sports bra, but nothing else.”

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

“Turn on the Hitachi and put it against my clit, Slave.”

“Ahhh. The direct approach.”

By now Mistress’s hand had drifted to my cock. Her newly polished nails drifting oh so lightly along it’s expanding length. This was the indirect – drive slave crazy approach.

“Yes, he’s very direct. Knows exactly how to call the shots, Slave.”

Of course, she knew that this was driving me crazy, as I involuntarily pumped myself against her hand seemed to tighten its grip. Argh.

“And the story, Mistress? What did he come up with?”

M had told her on Friday that he had taken things into his own hands, so to speak, while mentally composing the story he would tell her. And of course Mistress got very turned on at the thought of our Western correspondent taking time from his busy day to jack off with thoughts of her in his head. What proud and sexy woman would not?

“He had me getting on a flight to Denver. Checking into a hotel. When he and B called to say they were coming up, I was to be naked and wait for them.”

I imagined the scene, Mistress stripping, anxiously awaiting. Maybe told to kneel and await them. Or perched on the bed, on all fours.

“And then Mistress, what did they do to you?”

“They arrived. Inspected me. It was all very humiliating.”

In my mind, Mistress was held by one of them, arms pinned behind her back, as the other used fingers to explore, pinch and probe all the good parts, slowly turning my Mistress into their squirming, leaking slave.

“But you would have been very turned on, I’ll bet, Mistress.”

“I am sure I would be, Slave.”

Her fingers were still gripping me. I was using teeth to gnaw on her hard nipples. We were both writhing a bit. Not wanting to rush to the next phase until the story was done.”

“And what else did the story include, Mistress?”

“I was told to lick B, make her very wet. Then M would fuck her a bit while I watched. At that point I was told to clean the juices off of M’s cock with my mouth.”

“How would that taste, Mistress?”

“Good Slave…very good.”

“and while he was telling you the story, Mistress, was he telling you what to do with the power tool.?

“Yes… pressed and moving against my clit, Slave…..it’s around then that I came….he said it was too fast. He didn’t get to finish the story….”

“That is a shame….Did he make you beg.”

“Yes, I was required to call him Sir, and to ask permission, Slave.”

“And did he say ‘yes’….”

“Of course, Slave, I would not have come otherwise.”

I was imagining what would happen if M had said “No”, or if he had told her to turn off the Hitachi once or twice during the proceedings, to extend Mistress’s ‘misery’…make her beg a little more, grovel a little deeper. Now that would have been very interesting to watch.

By now both of us had had enough of all this talk.

“Get in position, Slave. It’s that time.”

She stood, smeared some lubricant on her tool, as I slid onto that little too puffy belly you all saw on Friday, a pillow under me to give her the right angle of attack.

She repositioned me a bit and then climbed on top, efficiently finding her mark.

“How’s that Slave?”, she whispered, her mouth not far from my ear, as she gently then more forcefully began her assault.

“Good Mistress ….I suppose I need this every now and then…”

“Why Slave?”

“To remind me….”

“To remind you of what, Slave?”

She was taking me harder now, more deeply. And I could tell she was close.

“That I am yours, Mistress. That you are in charge…. You can use me for your pleasure as you wish.”

About this time Mistress had a shuddering moaning mini-orgasm, then she slowed a bit, before picking up the pace, leading to a stronger one that left her gasping at rest on top of me. After a moment she tossed her harness on the floor.

“Put in your device, Slave. Then get back here and fuck me….”

And I was anxious to do just that.

Later that evening, after a stop at a relative’s home for a cook-out we headed to a local bar, populated by a younger crowd out to hear a local rock band. It seemed that at every table one or more of the 20 and 30 something’s had their “electronics” out, tapping away. So it was not too bizarre for us to pull out our own devices as we waited for the band to end an interminable sound check.

Mistress scanned her texts and emails, and composed one for our Western correspondent. She showed me her message before hitting send:

“Mick is good with all this. I am willing to hop on a flight out west anytime. That’s the kind of babe I am. I live to serve. Sweet dreams. Molly.”

Yes, she is a woman of action. That’s my Mistress.












“

MIstress Gets Tag Teamed

At exactly 4:20 pm yesterday my text message chime woke me from my focus on a dull text I was revising. It was Mistress:

“Look forward to fucking. Western guy has gotten me hot.”

Hmmm. There would be an interesting story behind this one.

When we climbed into the car for the ride back home, I politely asked about the business lunch she had attended, but was way more interested in hearing about what had gotten her motor running in the midst of her work day.

“So what happened today with ‘Western guy’ Mistress?”

“Oh he started texting….and it got pretty raunchy, Slave.”

“Would you like to share?”

She pulled out the I-phone from her elegant little black leather backpack. (a very Domme-ish accessory, come to think of it. Think of the tools it could hide.) Then she scrolled through a long stream to find where things began.

As she read I could only focus on the highlights, as I navigated through traffic in a pop-up thunderstorm, while squirming a bit in my seat as my pants seemed suddenly much tighter.

The text exchanges she read to me featured his repeated references to her as his “little slave”, a description of some sordid plans he had in store for her, and his requirement that she  respond with a “Yes, Sir”, when replying to his insistence that she not cross her legs or otherwise seek to relieve the building sexual tension.  And there were some comments about the story he had in mind when they had their next  phone sex session this weekend.

Mistress wanted to confirm that their dialogue was also turning him on. She is considerate that way, as I well know. And sure enough, Western M, let her know that the turn on was mutual.

“So all of this made you pretty horny, Mistress?”

“Yes Slave. Is that bad?”

(Our readers should know that Mistress is and always has been very considerate about this. While our contract clearly allows her to “play the field”, a right I do not have, she seems almost too concerned about my feelings. She knows from empirical evidence that I enjoy her adventures (almost) as much as she does. Yet she is always taking my temperature to make sure I don’t get squeamish about it. Nice, don’t you think?)

“No, Mistress. Not bad at all. Very hot stuff.”

And, in fact, tossed into the text exchange were some little comments about how he had gotten her in the mood to fuck me ASAP.  Western M egged her on. He has my back, so to speak.

On the highway by now, I reached my hand over to where Mistress thighs met her skirt, that had hiked up in a high and revealing way. My fingers settled on their junction, against her silky black “work” panties. Damp it seemed. Was it the rain she had walked through on her way to meet me, or the work of Western M. As I toyed with her a bit, I enjoyed her little squirms. She was a horny little slut this afternoon.

When we got home the thunderstorm had cleared.

“Bike ride, Mistress?”

“”Uhhhh….for some reason I am not feeling the need today.”

“Sex?”

“Yes, Slave. That’s the need I am feeling.”

Now this was unusual. Mistress rarely passes up the exercise opportunity. She really was turned on and in need of a hard cock. I was just lucky to be the one available.

We went to our room. Mistress was out of her cloths in a flash. And so was I.

She lazed across my body, at a right angle, her head on my chest, my hand buried in her clean shaven cunt. And I began to rub …. and rub, occasionally sucking her left nipple into my mouth, holding it between my teeth. Mistress was very needy but she was going to build to something special. No quick and easy orgasms today.

Our conversation focused on Western M, his wife B and their plans for Mistress.

Her sitting on Mistress’s face, as M toyed with her cunt.

Both of them taking turns spanking her, their hands dipping between the cheeks of her ass to confirm how wet and desperate to come she was.

Mistress collared, hands tied, on her knees, serving them both with her mouth.

Or maybe locked in some basement dungeon by them, on call to serve their kinky needs.

“Imagine what it will be like to meet M on some trip out west someday, Mistress. He will have you so well programmed with his voice, that you might just fall to your knees the minute he opens his mouth.”

“Hmmmm….maybe so, Slave.”

I kept rubbing. Mistress was so very close, whimpering a bit. But holding back. AS if she was struggling to delay orgasm until someone not in the room at the time gave her permission.  Oh so hot she was.

“Would you like the Hitachi, Mistress?” (By now my hand was getting a little tired but I knew she needed more from me, not less).

She was conflicted, confused, in a lust filled haze of desire.

“Uhhhh…..no……well …maybe ….yes….do you mind, Slave?”

“Of course not, Mistress”.

I popped up from the bed. Observed Mistress lying there, legs spread, knees bent, damp all over, her hips slowly undulating. Needy. Oh so needy. I had to put her out of her “misery”. The power tool was her only hope.

I found it in its little hiding place, plugged it in and slid in bed next to her.

“Relax, Mistress this will only take a minute.”

She moaned at my bad joke, but seemed very happy when the machine kicked on with its dull roar and I pressed it against her clit.

It did only take about a minute from there. Mistress had lost the battle of resistance and within seconds her hands were over mine, pressing the soft white bulb hard against her self, directing the action. Her leg muscles were very well defined as she used them to force the device home even harder. And then exploded against it, throwing her head back in surrender to her needs.

In this case, I felt that I was giving Western M the assist, since he had gotten this ball rolling hours earlier with his smutty little text messages.

She caught her breath, still writhing a bit with the aftershocks, and said “Give me the cock now slave.”

I was happy to oblige.

“It’s good to know my cock has not been made obsolete by all this technology, Mistress.”

“No Slave. That’s what went wrong with my little lesbian adventure a few months back. The orgasms are nice, but I need a nice hard cock to finish the job.”

AS I slid into her , Mistress took over the verbal provocations.

“Maybe when we have that phone sex tomorrow, I will tie you to that chair over there.”

“Hmmm….that would be …interesting Mistress.”

“How would it feel to listen to him talk me to an orgasm, Slave. Yo hear me call him Sir and respond to his voice….”

“That could be hard, Mistress.”

“would it make you jealous, Slave.”

“Well, I guess…but not in a bad way.”

“Good…it’s good for you to see that other men want me.”

And that you want them, Mistress.”

The talk was getting us crazy all over again. I was pumping. Mistress was coming, again. And soon I was begging for permission. I just barely made it under the wire, and came with a series of shudders, spent, collapsing onto her.

After we came down, and were getting ready to take a sullen teen to dinner (her friends are drivig her crazy, she claims), I picked up the laptop and sent an email to Western M, thanking him for all his priming of the pump.

We had worked Mistress like a winning relay team, and I was the lucky one holding the baton on the last leg, for the celebration at the finish line.

Or maybe one of those WWF tag teams? Need to work on that metaphor.

Morning Sex

Last night Mistress was very very tired.  This new all day work gig is taking some getting used to.

After we zrrived home, and before Slave whipped up dinner (gnocchi, scallops, pesto and asparagus, if you are keeping track), I offered to worship, and Mistress was happy to accept. She stretched across the bed after shedding her black pants (a rare pants to work day for her), and I knelt.

Molly had on some lacy yellow undies of the thong variety. I pressed my mouth against them, inhaling the aromas of a MIstress who needed to relax. Soon I was pealing them away and applying my skills to help Mistress shed some of that work-a-day tension. And hopefully I succeeded. afterwards we lay there a bit as MIstress caught up with her facebook friends.

But by the time we settled into bed Mistress had to enforce some abstinence.

"Just too tired Slave. I am afraid you will have to wait until the morning. Make sure you wake me by 6:45...."

"No problem Mistress....You deserve a break from my penis every now and then."

In fact, Slave was a bit worn too.

But this morning, that was a different story.
I slept a little too late for early morning blogging. But made sure I was upstairs at the appointed time.

Mistress had those yellow undies on again, and I stripped them away and made sure she had a wake-up orgasm before turning to my own needs.

Mistress reached for me.

"Ummmm....the morning cock. Ready to go."

She gripped it and began to pump, her face pressed up against my shoulder.

And gripped it. And slid those nicely manicured nails up and down the length for a while.

She made me beg.

"WHy do you want to fuck me, Slave?"

Hard to compose a power point presentation on the subject under those circumstances.

My hand wormed its way between her thighs. Roving fingers seemed to produce another orgasm for her. She was leveraging this encounter well.

That might have been the tipping point that led her to finally give me permission.

Afterwards she showered and I began writing this abreviated entry. Hate to let our readers down.

But when she came back into the room, all fresh and damp, She picked up her cell and snapped a photo.

"Make sure this is on today's entry, Slave".

"Yes, Mistress."

Yuck.  Next time I will remember to suck in my late 50's gut.

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.