a requested illustration

SFP, one of our favorite colleagues in deviant blogging asked for an image of the little white probe that has been deployed from time to time in our adventures. So here is a shot of it leaning against one of the feet that I enjoy worshipping when other parts are in need of a rest ....like tonight for example.

The adventures of SFP and her demanding yet compassionate hockey fan of a  Dom, Mr. C., can be found at her blog "Peacefully Submissive."

Lend Lease Orifice

On Saturday I sent our Western Correspondent a brief email on the subject of our Sunday morning switch day. I was looking for some guidance. He’s doing a crackerjack job of training Mistress to be his little “slave in sex” as she refers to herself in her correspondence to him. I wanted to make sure that whatever activities I engage in on our weekly switch occasion did not conflict with his methodologies. We don’t want to confuse Mistress while in training.

And in a weird way, I was seeking his permission, now that he seems to be so deeply in her head as her Master.

My question was “interested in your thoughts on handling switch day….” It was intentionally open ended, and could have led him in a number of potential directions. His response:

“I recommend the little white probe [the ‘Aneros’ that Mistress tells me to insert when she wants an extra hard cock]. But you are the Master tomorrow, and it is your switch day so you do what ever you want. I did tell Molly not to give you any BS if you decide to use the probe. … BTW I am curious if her orgasm is any stronger with the probe up her ass. Let me know.

Your respectful friend, M”

So he gave me some ideas, rather than directions. Nice touch.

When Sunday dawned, after our crazy Saturday, I found myself back in bed with Mistress, going over the papers, both a little burnt out. Yes we had a few drinks the night before, but it seemed more like a sexual hangover than a conventional one. And we talked about deferring our Switch activities until the evening.

But when she rolled over, her lovely naked bottom there for my soft caress and firm hand, there was no way I could pass up my Sunday morning privilege .

I started to spank.

“What are you doing, Slave?”

“I believe M said you needed a good hard spanking, Mistress…”

“Yes….he did. But…..”

“No But’s, Mistress. It would be impertinent to disregard his wishes, don’t you think?”

“I suppose, Slave.”

“Just consider yourself lucky that it’s me spanking you, rather than M. He might be much firmer, don’t you think?”

“Yes….he keep’s talking about blistering my bottom. That sounds a little scary.”

Somehow I suspected Mistress was looking forward to seeing just how scary that would be.

Normally I would tie Mistress to the bed on Sunday morning, but I was a little lazy, and I liked the way she was just laying there, very obedient, submitting to my increasingly firm slaps against her now squirming ass, despite the lack of restraints.

This training must me having some good effect.

After a dozen or so slaps, I climbed out of bed.

“Where are you going, Slave?”

She missed me already. Sweet.

“I’m getting what M advised me to use on you today, Mistress. And he told me not to take any back-sass from you about it.”

“But…..you know I don’t like anything in my ass…”

But she lay there, very obedient. No heading for the hills. Good little Slave.

“I suspect that’s exactly why he wants you to take it there. Just imagine it’s him doing it to you Mistress. I am just an accessory here….”

I should have added “and you like to do it to me, Mistress….can’t take your own medicine?”

She quieted down after that, as I smeared some baby oil gel on the probe and her little tight opening.

And she helped guide me a bit with her words as I found the mark again and slowly slid the probe inside. She was very still.

“How’s that, Mistress?”

“Uhhh …it’s OK Slave.”

Let’s see how it feels when I spank you Mistress.”

And that‘s what I did, until her bottom was glowing red on both cheeks. Her squirms and little moans into the pillow were very compelling. And my cock was getting very hard.

I paused for a moment to snap the photo above, which would be sent off to M when our session was done. It’s only fair to give him a sneak preview, since he is a source of inspiration.

I slid back into bed next to Mistress, my hardened cock pressed against her left thigh and my right hand slapping her bottom. But now my left hand wormed it’s way under her, and my fingers began a slow and deliberate massage of her sopping parts. As her bottom squirmed in it’s faux efforts to avoid my slapping hand, she ground herself all the more enthusiastically against my kneading fingers below her.

“I know that your ass is his, Mistress, but it’s nice of him to let me break it in for him as his assistant, don’t you think?”

Her response was muffled into the pillow as her squirms became more pronounced, but it seemed she agreed.

I had intended this approach as only a warm-up act for the application of her favorite power tool, but Mistress preempted that plan as she writhed against my fingers and moaned with delight before collapsing against the bed. Her eye opener orgasm.

“You surprised me there Mistress. But I’m not done with you just yet….”

After giving her a minute or two to recover her cognition, I reached for the power tool, switched it on.

“You won’t turn this down will you Mistress?”

“No Slave ….I think I am getting addicted to it.”

And of course it has now become associated with the voice and directions of her new Master. Compelling, don’t you think?

“There are worse things to become addicted to, Mistress.”

I slid the churning end between her legs from behind, and let the machine do the job it does so darn well. I was not going to tease or frustrate. But I did want to report on this experiment to M – would Mistress have a better or bigger orgasm with or without that little device?

She put her lovely and well exercised thighs to full use, and those muscles in her bottom too, as she rubbed herself against the soft white bulb. She seems a woman possessed in moments like these, focused on satisfying the demands of her needy little cunt.

I try to hold her in place with my free hand, for fear she might just pop off the bed, and my cock delights in the friction of her smooth thigh as it rides the swift currents of her desire. (did I really just write that? Shoot me.)

She builds slowly, then when she can take no more of the frustration, she goes for it, her whole body stiffening, her face turn red, eyes scrunched closed.

My report to M: It was certainly an epic orgasm, M. But it was hard for this Observer to tell if the probe had a physical amplifying effect, or whether the idea that she was submitting to something she feels squeamish about at your direction made her a tad more submissive, allowing her to “let go” a little more.

Maybe we need to do some further experiments to get to the bottom of this. Of course, my own hard cock probably made me less than a dispassionate scientific observer.

Now back to our activities.

When Mistress’s post orgasmic lethargy abated, she asked for my cock. She did not have to ask twice.

I took her lovely sopping cunt from behind.

“Ohhh….it’s very hard Slave. I needed that….”

“and you are very wet Mistress”

Tight too, I might add. Very tight. Lucky Slave.

I entered her slowly, enjoying her warm embrace and the texture and aroma of that lovely back and thick rich hair beneath me.

Then I picked up the pace.

And as I pounded into her, Mistress came again, her ass rising to meet me, her neck and head turning with pleasure against the bed.

It’s good to know that despite the allure of technology, the traditional approach can still get Mistress where she likes to go.

After that third orgasm Mistress was spent. But she was kind enough to roll over and allow me to take my own pleasure from her.

M, thanks for letting me help you break in Mistress’s ass. But I consider it on lease. Mistress knows it belongs to you.

Grace Slick Would Be Proud of Mistress

It’s midnight Saturday.

I am cuddled next to Mistress. 

My now softening cock pressed between Mistress’s smooth ass cheeks, two fingers toying with her right nipple, my palm nestling her breast. I am zoning out, coming down from a lengthy and explosive bout of lovemaking. The type where your cock says “keep going, dude” and the rest of your body says “Hey old guy, you’re almost 60, can’t this wait until morning. You did this twice already today.” 

Mistress is coming down too. Murmuring into the phone with our Western Correspondent. I recall one line:

“I’m not sure how much one cunt can take, M. Three intense encounters with Mick today, two over the phone with you. You guys really have me at your mercy.”

So let me back up 24 hours and give you the “pervy” chronology, as our partner in perv, SFP would put it:

12:15 am – Mistress returns home from seeing “Sex in the City” with surly teen 2 (Surly teen 1 was in the “City” with her boyfriend; my guess is they did not need the movie). 

She strips, takes off the makeup. As she climbs in to bed, tired like me, I tell her that I had finished up the morning blog, and that it had made me a little horny. But we resolve to wait until morning.

But as I spoon against her, the damn friction between cock and her smooth, firm ass cheeks get me twitching.  Soon my hand is sliding between her legs from behind and the soft caress of a single finger has her going too. That finger soon has her coming in soft little shudders, then rolling over to welcome my firm cock.

7:30 am – I am up only briefly, with just the time to post the blog and brew some coffee,  before Mistress pages me from above. The blog, and our talk of her plans for her afternoon “date” with Master M carry us through yet another sexual adventure. Then off for a bike ride in the humid summer air.

11:30 am- Mistress returns from her beauty rituals. I am out in our yard, clipping, mowing and mulching. Guy stuff.  My text message goes off:

“Home. Where are U?”

“In the yard.  Worship?”

“Sure”

Her wish was my command. I came in, stripped off sweaty T and soon found myself on my knees, enjoying the taste and fragrance of that clean shaven cunt.

2:00 pm – We are lounging on our deck. Mistress working on her tan, reading a book. Me paging through the Times in a shady spot. Mistress has been texting with her new Master, as he reports his exploits on the golf course.

Mistress had told me they planned a phone date, and she was getting a little fidgety. When would it be? She did not want it to interfere with our own Saturday afternoon romp. And the girls were now gone, leaving Mom and Dad with an empty house to play in.

“He says I can call him now, Slave.”

“Then go for it, Mistress.”

She leaned over for a kiss as she passed me, I-phone in hand.

“I will want your cock when I’m done, Slave. I’ll text you.”

I settled in with the Times, admittedly distracted by Mistress hi-jinks upstairs. After about 20 minutes. my text went off:

“Still talking Slave.”

Then, a few minutes later:

“He’s giving instructions.”

Hmmm. Twitch. Torture. I asked myself for the 347^th time why this concept turns me on so much.

2:45 pm: After about 45 minutes of elapsed time, my cell phone rang.

“I need you up here now, Slave.”

Mistress says she likes a hard cock after coming by Hitachi or other non- penetrative means. And She did not have to ask me twice to provide one.

As we fucked with a certain crazy desperation, I debriefed her on their talk.

“Where was he, Mistress.”

“driving home from golf, Slave. He was hoping to do it with his wife when he got home.”

“No doubt he will be primed.”

“And did he make you beg, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. I had to ask permission. He made me say “May I come now M?”

“And did you, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. He made me come twice.”

By then my cock had taken command and control, and the answers did not filter back to my memory reserves.

5:30 pm: When we were done, it was time to prepare for one of those obligatory holiday weekend cook outs, at which extended family and my always annoying Mother would be parked on our deck for longer than any norm of hospitality should require.

And Mistress had a special request:

“Slave, M is  home alone tonite. And he wants to know if we can do it again sometime this evening.”

Mistress was not giving orders here. She wanted to know if I would be offended if she abandoned the role of smiling hostess for that of slutty love slave for a bit. And it was a gift of consent I was happy to provide. Molly has soldiered on through way too many of these family evenings. She deserved a little vacation.

“Of course, Mistress. It will make the evening more fun for both of us.”

And it did.

7:30 pm: We arranged a plan that went awry a bit. M was to text my cell phone when he was ready for her. I would inform Molly it was time for the “business call” she had to make. Then Molly would excuse herself. 

AS the evening progressed, she would discretely ask if I had gotten any text messages.  I had nothing to report. She was getting ansty. And maybe a little horny. All that anticipation was building up for the poor Molly. She needed her little break.

“I think I will go check my own phone, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

She came down moments later as I was feeding plates into the dishwasher and supervising the teens’ cutting  watermelon.

“Somehow he forget your number, Slave. He’s ready for me now.”

“I kissed Mistress, and patted her departing ass as she headed back upstairs for her appointment.

Dessert was served, guests lingered a bit then (at last) announced their departures. I helped with the loading of grandsons and my mother.

All asked about Molly’s whereabouts, wanting to bid adieu. I told her there was a work call she had to take, but that I would pass on their thanks.

9:30 pm: As I finished the clean-up, I could here Mistress above me, pacing. Post-coital chat, no doubt. Cute. And Sexy.

When the guests had cleared away, Mistress came downstairs. That “cat ate the canary” smile on her face yet again.

“How long was I gone, Slave?”

“”Oh, an hour or so. Everyone’s gone.”

I pulled her close, kissing her lightly, but a hand possessively gripping her ass. The teens were still lingering, so I had to ease up on the PDA’s for fear of activating their “gross out” meters.

“Let’s go out to a bar, Slave. M and I were talking about tequila shots. Now I have a real thirst for one.”

So  Tequila shots replaced the post-phone sex cigarette. Healthier, I think.

We drove a few blocks to a seedy biker bar, where exceedingly large people with flannel shirts and dime store cowboy hats were muttering the video screened lyrics of country tunes into microphones. Classic Americana.

I moseyed up to the bar and got a short lady bar tender in a grimy t shirt to pour her a Cuervo double and me a Jamieson on the rocks.

In our corner booth, I asked Mistress to recount her adventures.

“Sorry it took so long, Slave….he could have talked an hour longer.”

“No problem Mistress…things went fine and I wanted you to have your fun.”

I debriefed her a bit. He “made” her come three times with that oh-so-efficient Hitachi. And he came too.

“How does that feel, Mistress….to know he’s playing with his cock and that your voice, what you are putting in his head, is making him hard?”

Mistress did that little blushy, demure look thing for me.

“It’s…very sexy, Slave.”

Mistress had another double. I nursed mine. Then we headed home, after hearing one too many skinny guys try to channel Elvis.

10:30 pm: Back in our bedroom, I stripped away my shorts and T-shirt. I certainly had no expectation or desire for sex at that point. It had been a long day, and my sperm count must have been running on empty, right?

Was it the tequila that caused Mistress to phone M at that point.  We had talked about calling him at some point. But suddenly she was handing the phone to me.

“M wants to say hello”.

We had a brief conversation. He told me how “cool” we are. I thanked him for the bounce he has placed in Mistress’s step. We laughed about some blog comments by SFP on Friday.

I told him I had been thinking about that old Jefferson Airplane song “Triad” in the context of our mutual courtship of Molly.

I turned the phone over to Mistress, who sat lay across the bed next to me, still in her tiedye dress and lacy panties.

I found the song on YouTube, clicked play, and then emailed it to M.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Aej9wmoQ7M&feature=PlayList&p=DA91B5A31F74DD39&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=25

Meanwhile Mistress was chatting on, in her flirtatious way. As if all of this was very natural and comfortable. And, come to think of it, it was.

That’s when I slid my face in between Mistress’s legs, and used a finger to pull away her panties to give my tongue a little access.

“Oh my god, his face is between my legs, M.  I guess I should go….”

But she didn’t go. His voice had enough of a command over her that he made her keep up the narrative. What I heard was like a deviant Bob Newhart monlogue, her on the phone to him, then passing on his comments to me. Here are some of the snippets that stuck out:

“Now he’s pulling off my panties. …..His face is buried there, M.”

“M wants me to keep talking ….he wants to hear me come again.”

“Mick’s addicted to this….he can’t get enough of the taste of my cunt, isn’t that true, Slave?

“Ummm-huhhh”.

It is true, and at this moment I could not let go…

“M wants you to suck my clit between your lips ….that’s exactly what he is doing…

By now her free hand had found my cock, and she was squeezing and stroking.

“wow….he’s pretty hard now ….”

“So why isn’t this one of your favorite things….”

“M says he likes fucking better….but Mick’s just hooked on this…he always has been.”

At some point, Mistress lost her focus on the conversation. Her words became moans, her hips bucked against me, but I would not free her from the grip of my lips until she came again.

She had not asked M for permission. For shame.

The conversation continued a bit. But Slave was needy by now, and a little uppity.

“I’d really like to fuck you now, Mistress. But not with you on the phone”.

She agreed it was time to ring off, and they said their endearing good nights. Mistress instructed me to insert my little white probe, as she did her bedtime beauty rituals. My cock kept its interest at a very high level. Which led to the long and crazy love making where this convoluted account began.

As I faded away, I heard Mistress wish her new Master goodnight. Crazy, Huh?

Fan Mail

Molly and Mick were up a little later than normal Thursday night, watching a sweet, if sappy, movie about Valentine’s Day in LA. And when we finally went to bed, it was not without some sleepy but gratifying love making that put us out, quickly and deeply.

So Slave woke a little later than normal Friday morning, with barely the time to make coffee and retrieve the papers, before Mistress called for me.

“Mick, I’m up….”

Translation: get up here and serve me, pronto, Slave.

In reality, I like that morning “page”. It usually means that Mistress has mischief in mind.


As I came upstairs, I was still a bit sleepy. The coffee had not yet kicked in. But seeing her there, naked, in bed, full breasts, erect nipples, legs askew to show a bit of her fur-less parts, she was overwhelmingly enticing.

And the scent….wow. Mistress was already aroused.

“Did you start without me, Mistress?”

“No, Slave. Why would I do that with your tongue and cock available I paged you for a reason.”


As I settled into bed next to her, the hi-test pheromones she was tossing off quickly shredded my morning malaise. I was almost instantly hard. I could only imagine what had gotten Mistress into such an early morning state of longing. But whatever or whoever, I was happy to exploit it.

“Are you sure you weren’t using the power tool Mistress?”

She laughed.

“No Slave, why don’t you touch it and see if it’s warm. Better yet, smell it.”

I took her word for it, and went to work on her with my mouth. Once that “work” was done, I certainly needed no special handling before plunging in with her permission.

As I exploited my privilege, we talked about how deeply she has fallen under the spell of her new Master, M, fka, our Western Correspondent.

“Well, you gave him the road map, Slave…all the little clues, my weaknesses, there all there for him to pick up in the blog. Why did you do that?”

All of this said through those endearing little gasps and moans…the question was really rhetorical.

“ He does seem to be doing a good job of training you, Mistress.”

Yes, Slave ….. he’s very good at that.”

“I’ll bet you start getting wet when you hear his voice now.”

“Ummm …. Yes, it’s true.”

“He’s conditioning you, Mistress…. Soon you may not be able to come without his permission.”

“Oh…I don’t think so Slave….He wouldn’t do that.”

But as she came for me then, suddenly, and with surprising force, it seemed like there was a slight and very exciting question in her mind about that possibility.

We drove to work together. And between phone calls and some business matters I took the time to write the brief entry in yesterday’s blog.

Later, around lunch time, I received an email from Master M with his comments about the blog, directed at me and his Slave in training:


“Fun blog post again today, Mick. Thanks for the clues, and inspiration. I am going to get around to the begging for orgasm hotness, when we have time, and a leash also sounds like a very good idea,

a very long leash that could be pulled between your legs, Molly.... and held by me hiking behind you. Interesting possibilities there ... don't U think?

And U r right Mick... the sun screen would have to be liberally applied all over Molly ... wouldn't want any burning,,,, better safe than sorry.

Take care U two, M”

It’s good to get some feedback from our biggest “fan”.

But I could imagine Mistress’s reaction at the thought of that leash as she read over his email.

Later, on our ride home, Mistress confessed that she and M had another one of their in the office phone sex encounters. And of course I pumped her for the details.

“I really didn’t think I was in the mood, Slave. I was so busy ….but…”

“Did he require it, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. One minute we were just talking about our day….and the next minute he’s telling me he is pulling out his cock and that I should go to that little private bathroom where ….I do it for him.”

“I suppose you could have said ‘No’ Mistress…”

“That’s the thing ….I really didn’t feel that I could say no ,,,.”

“And how does it feel to have to do that….to play with yourself that way because he requires it?”

“Degrading, Slave …. Embarrassing ….”

“But your fingers, Mistress. You really couldn’t stop them once he told you it was time?

“No Slave….I really couldn’t.”

I imagined Mistress in this private bathroom, her knickers dangling from an ankle, skirt hiked up, her fingers desperately rubbing her clit, as she pressed her phone to her ear, hearing his smutty story of her submission and his own lustful sounds.

“Maybe we should finish this conversation at home, Mistress.”

And of course, we did, at length, not long thereafter, back in our bed.