Mistress Shares a Fantasy from her Master

Last night, after our bike ride, Mistress checked her email as she stripped off her black riding shorts, getting ready for worship. (mistress is a proficient multi-tasker). But with her tight black shorts still pooled at her ankles, Mistress seemed a bit …distracted …. by what she was reading.

Her legs and ass took on the tell tale fidget that comes when she is being messaged by her Master, our Western Correspondent. Her eyes fixed. After a minute, she looked up at me, remembering that I was still in the room, prepared for worship.

“Slave, M sent me a pretty hot fantasy. Do you want me to read it to you?”

Silly question. Of course. I was curious to know what devious thoughts M had in mind, which, no doubt, were part of the mental conditioning that he was utilizing in his remote Slave training regime.

“Absolutely, Mistress.”

“Why don’t you worship, as I read it to you.”

I tossed a pillow on the floor and knelt next to the bed, as Mistress lay back, lap top on her tummy, and looked for the beginning. Then she began to read to me:

“Here is something to imagine, Slave.

You have irritated me, and I have summoned you to my cabin for a good, sound bare bottom spanking.

You are very nervous on the plane as you have never been spanked by me before. You’ve heard me talk about how hard I have spanked my previous slaves. It has you unsettled, doesn’t it?

You are also very horny, as I have forbidden you to cum for several days before our rendezvous. As the plane prepares to land, your pussy is a soggy mess, just the way I want it. But you are able to resist the temptation to go to the ladies room to get yourself off. Very obedient, Slave.

I meet you as you clear security, and kiss you hello. I reach down and squeze your cunt, right there in the busy airport, as you gasp out loud. I want everyone gawking to know you are mine. Completely mine.

“Have you been a good girl and not cum”.

“Yes, sir”, you hiss, squirming as my hand continues to grip you.

“Good , then come with me.”

I reluctantly let go of you, take your bag and we walk to my car.

We happily talk on the way to my cabin, but, as we arrive, you sense a change in my mood.

Your stomach clinches again. I give you my instructions in my best “no nonsense” voice:

“Go inside and remove every stitch of clothes. Then get your nose in the corner with your bare bottom exposed. Put your hands behind your head and wait for me. And don't you dare touch my pussy.”

Of course, you would obey, wouldn’t you, Slave?

After some time you would hear me enter the cabin. You hear me unbuckle my belt and slide it out of my jeans. Come to me. You would stand in front of me as I shoved two fingers roughly up your cunt, and placed your hand on my rock hard cock.

“That’s for later, Slave. But first we have some business to attend to.

I would drop the belt saying, “I don’t need that to blister your bare bottom young lady”, as I pulled you over my lap.

I would begin to spank you hard, as you howled and begged me to stop.

“I will decide when you have been spanked enough young lady”, completely ignoring your pleas for mercy.

When I had spanked you into total submission, you would lay quietly across my lap, catching your breath, sobbing, maybe, but squirming too. I would gently rub your bottom. Soothing and calming you. Your cunt would be on fire, wouldn’t it, Slave?

Then I would gently place you on you knees before me, and unbutton my jeans, offering you my hard cock.

“Kiss it and properly thank your master, slave.”

“Yes, sir”, you would kiss it and thank me, wouldn’t you, Slave?

To be continued, my horny little slave.

Your Master M

P.S.: lucky for you I am letting you cum tonight, some night I might not.”


As Mistress read this erotic tale, she squirmed her little wet “pussy” ( a word I don’t normally use, but maybe should) against my lips. Then, once she completed the tale, she allowed me to finish the work that M had started with his hot and compelling fantasy.

She sat up, groped my throbbing cock, then suggested that we prepare dinner first before she took care of my own needs. Deferring my pleasure seems to be Mistress’s latest trick in my own training regime.

And by the way, it works. Keeps Slave on his toes, so to speak.

After dinner, we settled into bed with the papers and our computers, but Mistress’s naked body was a bit too distracting for me to focus on that article about how BP could use bankruptcy to avoid paying for its big mess. I decided it would be much more fun to mess around with Mistress.

Once I made my preference known, Mistress made clear what her preference was.

“I need the Hitachi tonight, Slave.”

“Addicting, is it, Mistress?”

It had been nearly two days since she last put it to use, with M whispering instructions in her horny little ear.

“I guess it is, Slave”

I was happy to oblige, and reached for it, tucked just under our bed.

I tasted her first, using my tongue to loosen up and moisten those lovely sensuous folds, then flicked it on, sliding it between Mistress’s widely spread legs. Her moan of gratitude was immediate, but the business end of the device was not exactly where she likes it to be.

“Why do you do that Slave?”, she asked, her cunt rising and twisting to find the elusive vibrating head.

“Well… I’ve learned that the longer I drag this out, the harder you come, Mistress. Isn’t that true?”

“I suppose so”, Mistress said, a tone of petulance in her voice.

As I toyed with her, I went back to M’s story.

“Do you think you could really go several days without coming, Mistress?”

“I don’t know Slave….probably not.”

“Then you wouldn’t be very obedient, would you?”

I asked her to speculate about M sending us a chastity belt, and asking his “minion” to fit and lock it on her for a few days in advance. Just to keep her honest.

The concept clearly got Mistress going. “That would be cruel, Slave. Plus what about you? Wouldn’t you get horny?”

“Well I guess I could resort to self help. And there are always blow jobs, Mistress.”

“You wouldn’t do that, or get one, without my permission, Slave,” she scolded.

I could see where this was going. That whole goose and gander thing. Argh.

In the meantime, I was being a little more attentive with the Hitachi. Mistress was beginning to writhe on the bed, frantically pressing that steamy cunt of hers against the relentlessly vibrating tool.

Soon it was just too much for her, and she was grinding against it as I pressed it home hard against that needy little clit. It was perfectly fine in my mind if her thoughts were back in that cabin, finally getting fucked by M, her bottom sore from that bare bottom spanking, all resistance wrung from her. His perfect little slave, at last. Because her body was there, next to me, and for the evening, at least, it was all mine.

When she settled down she used her last bit of strength to push the throbbing Wand away.

“Enough, Slave.”

As I fucked her, I could tell her face was wet, her body still shaking with those post orgasmic sobs that come when she hits a ten on the orgasm scale.

The team approach of satisfying Mistress had shot and scored. M gets the big assist. And I (almost) feel guilty for getting to score.

Mistress Loses Track.

Mistress had a very tough day yesterday. So tough she lost track of her orgasm count.

Let’s try to reconstruct.

Yesterday was my switch day. M had not come up with any instructions for me, so it was “free style”.

Since Mistress had been so gentle and loving of late, I did not have it in me to come up with any thing particularly cruel. So I settled for something I knew would satisfy both of us, while feeding Mistress’s rich fantasy life.

Her wrists were cuffed, and fixed together over her head. Her ankles were bound closely together with another pair of leather cuffs. Neat and efficient, and assuring that Mistress was going nowhere.

I lay next to her on the bed, she on her back, me straddling her, kissing and letting her feel the need of my hardening cock.

Then I rolled her over, to begin a long and slow spanking. Not too hard or frenzied. Just enough to warm her bottom and make her squirm. After a bit I slid my free hand under her sliding a finger along the damp slit that was all mine, for the moment, at least.

“Last week you came this way, Mistress….but not this week. I want you to hold it until I turn on the power tool.”

She moaned a bit, grinding her pussy into the palm of my mind.

“Yes, Slave. I will try.”

I spanked her hard.

“You will do more than try, Mistress. Come on my finger and I am going to hide that power tool.”

She laughed.

“That’s mean”.

I suspected she had some plans for that device with M later that day. It had been a few days for them. She would need the device handy in order to follow his instructions. And I spanked her again, a bit harder.

“Yes, Slave…..I understand.”

As Mistress’s frustration grew, I could tell she was holding back a bit. Trying to still the undulations of her willful cunt. So I showed her mercy, as she so often shows to me.

I pulled the Hitachi from under the bed and switched it on. You could feel the relief and anticipation from Mistress.

She was still on her tummy. With her ankles closely bound, it was a challenge for her to spread her thighs just so to allow the tool to slide between her legs.

“It’s not quite there, Slave”, she said, as I toyed with her a bit, deliberately holding it just short of the spot she needed it to be.

“Oh dear….sorry, Mistress.” Can you hear my sarcasm?

She wiggled and wriggled and squirmed to get the right angle, her frustration mounting. But again I showed mercy, easing into the position that allowed her to press her throbbing little clit against the pulsating white bulb.

“I like the way those butt muscles clench and relax, then clench again, Mistress. You look so desperate…..”

Soon she was in a frenzy that took her where she needed to be.

Her first of the day.

I released her ankles, she spread her legs like a nice little slut, as she might for M under these circumstances ,and slowly slid into her from behind. Pumping away at her, she had at least another one, before I rolled her over and finished the job.

It was raining out, so we delayed our bike ride and did some office type work until I was off to some family visits.

When I called her at some point around noon, she confirmed that she and M had been able to fit in one of their phone “dates”.

“When you get home I will tell you all about it, Slave.”

And of course, hearing that satisfied tone in her voice had my cock twitching like one of Pavlov’s dogs once again.

The plan had been for us to take that deferred bike ride once I got home and Mistress returned from the grocery. We put away the provisions required to feed the surly teens and their friends for the next few days. (Summer vacation has begun and hungry hoards will soon converge on our house.) Then Mistress suggested we go to our room for her to report on her encounter.

“Well it was as you might expect, Slave.”

I understood: her cunt, the Hitachi, his hypnotic voice casting it’s spell with tales of Mistress’s submission to his hard and demanding cock.

“And how many times did he make you come, Mistress?”

“Twice, Slave….is that ok by you?”

She meant it. Mistress is considerate of my feelings on all this. Honesty is our watchword, and she does not want me to get toooo jealous. (well, a little bit jealous and competitive is OK. She does like the concept of two alpha males both trying hard to please and amuse her and drive her to sexual frenzy).

“It’s fine, Mistress.”


And it was. But somehow the bike ride was deferred once again, and Slave and Mistress were naked once again. I needed her then and now.

Add (at least) two more to Mistress’s count.

In the aftermath, I napped for about 30 minutes, in recovery mode, and Mistress worked on her non-kinky blog. (her energy level is amazing). Then we finally took that long bike ride, before settling onto our deck with the Times and a beer to catch the late afternoon sun.

Mistress had her –phone with her, and as the little text chime went off, I could tell that she was in touch with M. An ongoing text message flirtation is a charming off shoot of this D/s infatuation of theirs. And I like the way Mistress’s body squirms a bit when the chime goes off, and she taps off a response.

“What’s he up to, Mistress?”

“I can’t believe it. He says he just fucked B, now she is out of the house, and he wants to talk to me again.”

In this case, “talk” was laden with a different meaning. He wanted to get off with her again.

“I’m telling him we’re busy, Slave.”

“Well you could do it out here, but one of the surly teens is just inside. She might see.”

I did like the idea of Mistress toying with herself, in rapture, out on our deck. Another time, maybe.

“But if you want, go inside. I will be fine, Mistress.”

You could see that Mistress was struggling with this. Her little needy cunt was twitching again. It wanted her to comply with his desires.

But her brain was telling her, “you shouldn’t leave your slave all alone out here.” Cute.

I had a feeling her cunt would win this “argument”. And it did, with my encouragement.

“Mistress, I have a beer and the NY Times, and we’ve already had sex twice today. I am more than happy. Plus aren’t you curious to know if he can do it for you after he just had sex with B?”

Of course she was. Off she went. Already dripping, I suspect.

About 25 minutes later, she came padding down to me. Still a bit flushed. She kissed me.

“Well, Mistress?”

“He did do it, Slave. Impressive.”

“And you, Mistress?”

“Yes….but only once this time.”

Truth be told, even I could have done it again at that point. I find that I always want her again after these little “dates”. But I figured “why be greedy….”

As we settled into bed that evening, I was more than satisfied, but offered to worship Mistress. I do like the taste of her on my lips before going to sleep. But she demurred.

“I think I’ve had enough today Slave.”

But when I asked, she really could not remember the count.

Mistress and Slave's DC Adventures (cont'd)

Yesterday I ended the blog on a sidewalk in our nation’s capitol, with two 20 something’s wondering what made two folks (or at least one of us) old enough to be their parents so hot for one another on a sultry Friday night.

I did not want to leave too much to your imagination.

We finished our long walk back to our hotel from dinner, a bit tipsy and with a sheen of perspiration from the warm humid air. We slid off our cloths and into bed.


“Do you want me, Slave?”

“Absolutely, Mistress.”

Soon I was between Mistress’s legs, dug in for a long siege.

I know there are some guys who say this is not their favorite sex act. Our Western Correspondent is one of them. And I have heard of (but never met) women who find it less than compelling. (Thinking of you SFP).

But for me, there is nothing like the Zen like experience of focusing all of my energy and attention on bringing my Mistress to a slow and intense orgasm with my mouth and tongue.

On a night like our Friday evening , when there are no other demands, or the need to wake up early or otherwise, “get on with it”, I like to use my mouth to tease and torment a bit, and draw it out of her slowly. And when Mistress is a little tipsy, it’s all the more fun. Whatever inhibitions she might have (and there are not many) are thrown to the wind and surrendered to her pleasure centers.

So with the glow of the National Cathedral shining through our hotel room window in the distance, I began my worship. This would be a high mass.

It involved a slow and languorous sucking of her rosy clit between my lips, teased on occasion by the very tip of my tongue. I knew I was getting to her as her hips began to rise each time I created a little vacuum to suck her sensitive bud even deeper into my mouth.

AS she got closer to the edge I would slow the rhythm a bit, then speed it up again to keep her tilted but not quite ready to plunge over the precipice. And somewhere along the way, my thumb found it’s way into her sopping canal, where it poked and probed to find that spot that makes her crazy.

After 10 or 15 minutes of this, Mistress was thrashing about a bit, getting a tad desperate. Finally, I showed some mercy, and pressed her over the edge with some additional attention with my tongue.

Her vocalization was well worth the effort, as she came in one enthusiastic spasm against my clinging mouth, and then went through a series of mini-crashes before settling down onto the bed. I had the satisfaction of a job well done, when I heard her raspy demand “Come and fuck me now, Slave”.

It’s always nice when I am not required to beg for that privilege.

As it turned out I was more than ready, and mounted her without hesitation.

And we fucked for quite a few minutes that way, me on top of her, varying the speed, mauling her tits, pressing my face into her neck to enjoy her lovely aroma, that mingled her musky perfume, the salt of the day’s sunbathing, and the tang of the sexual juices that had spread just about everywhere by now.

But this was not exactly what Mistress needed.

“I want to be on top, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”


On that night, her needs were only going to be quenched by riding my cock. And she rode it with a vengeance.

I had a sense that in her mind she was imprisoned in M’s mountain cabin. Collared. Chained to the bed. At his disposal.

And he had required her to ride him this way, maybe with her hands tied behind her back, so that she could take her pleasure only by grinding and sliding against him, building and building until she was mad with desire, but coming only after she begged him for the privilege.

And my attitude was the following (and I have expressed it to her this way): If Mistress gets this hot with thoughts of fucking another guy, and I am the beneficiary of her naughty sexual fantasies, then fantasize on, my love.

At some point she drove herself to yet another devastating climax, collapsing onto me, seemingly exhausted, but knowing that she owed me one.

So we rolled over again. And I quickly found my mark.

By now, Mistress was making some noises that were new to me. Sobbing was the best way I could describe it to her over breakfast the next day. But not the sobbing that comes with tears. That happens sometimes for her, after a particularly intense climax. This was something all together different. I interpreted it as “Slave, I have had more orgasms than a Mistress can handle, but I am still going crazy with you fucking me.”

In any event, I did go on, until I was begging for permission, and she was granting, then I was exploding into her in a series of spasms that seemed to go on forever.

After that, well …..

We woke the next morning, wondering what exactly happened.

We found ourselves on the wrong side of the bed. (old married couples like us have their “sides”. Exactly how we acquired them is now shrouded by the fog of time).

As best we could reconstruct, we both sort of passed out simultaneously. Maybe our mutually generated sexual energy had sucked us into an odd time warp or another dimension. But we came back in good order, no limbs rearranged. Our nation’s history not altered, at least as far as we could tell. The oil was still leaking. The media still demanding that Barack “do something” and “act more pissed.”

And, before heading out for a walk through Georgetown, we made sure that our sexual organs were still working. Thank goodness, they were.

Now we are back in River City, our brief getaway over.

We have a lovely photo of Molly on the steps of JFK’s Georgetown home to show for our trip. Mistress’s tan lines are a bit more pronounced. And I am considering what exactly to do to her on Switch Day. We will keep you updated.


BTW, check out ‘Nilla’s blog (Vanilla Mom’s Blog) today for a fictionalized account of the adventures of Molly, Mick and our Western Correspondent. We no doubt will all be inspired by this today. Hopefully Molly and M will have a phone date today to go over the plot line in some detail. It’s probably fortunate that the Hitachi has had a few days off to rest its circuitry.


Mountain Top pt 1. « Van#D55BB8