Field Slave Called into the Big House.

After a good sleep in on a rainy Saturday morning, Mistress paged me from above and her dutiful Slave climbed the stairs and handed her my laptop for her to review our Q and A blog.

She seemed very amused, and I was rewarded with the opportunity to use my fingers to make her come, then fuck her to our mutual contentment. And when it’s been about 24 hours for me, the resulting discharge is always explosive and welcome.  Very  welcome.

The monsoon persisted and lightning flashed, and so  we lazed about in bed. It was still early on the Mountain Time Zone, so Mistress had not yet heard her Master’s reaction to my somewhat satirical description of how he landed his job as our Western Correspondent.

She tapped away an email to him as I cuddled next to her, reading the Times, and it was natural for me to glance over at the keyboard as she typed.  She noticed my roving eyes.

“Slave, does it bother you when you see me tell him ‘I want u”? (and that’s what she had typed, and a bit more too).

“Not unless you don’t mean it Mistress. It’s fine to want both of us….”

She gave me a little kiss, content with my answer. Who could complain about being courted by two guys who need her so completely?

I told her that M has sent me an email the night before in response to my request for thoughts on our switch day activities.  He had  a “suggestion” for a ‘pose’ that he had discussed already with Mistress – something he wanted me  to photograph and then send to him - too hard to paraphrase so I will quote it here:

As always it’s your switch Sunday but I do have a suggestion.  

I think Molly would look good and could be teased and tormented well in a position on her back with her legs rolled all the way over her head and her knees and the tops of her feet flat on the bed.  Kind of a yoga position.  I explained the position  to her and she understands.  ( I have requested a picture of her in that position at some point in the future)  She would be very vulnerable and exposed in such a position and my thought was that she could be teased with any means you want.  eg. lips, cock, hitachi, glass dildo, fingers, etc.  And I suspect she would look very alluring in that position.  Then you could decide (at your own peril of course) whether or not to let her cum.

I showed Mistress his “suggestion” and it got her squirming a bit.

“Yes …. I think I know what he wants….”

Of course it might be a suggestion to me, but it was clearly a requirement for her.

“How does it feel to pose for him this way, Mistress?”

“A little humiliating, Slave.”

A little?

“But I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it?

“I suppose so, Slave.”

And of course it reminds me if my ‘place” when I get to be the photographer and accommodate my Mistress’s humiliation.  Delicious, isn’t it?

“I’ll bet he might open up those lurid little photos to play with his cock, Mistress…don’t you think?

“I don’t know Slave….” Mistress was getting that far away, turned on look in her eye.  She did need him. But I was happy to be the surrogate.

Then I showed her the response I had sent to M:

“excellent thoughts. She was telling me you required a picture with the crystal cock, so we will definitely do that.

I enjoy assisting her and you in fullfilling your wishes, and it makes her very hot when you make a request like that, as I think you know..

This does make for an interesting relationship, with Molly at the center of it. She likes and needs the attention, and we both seem to bring something different to the table.

I really am very grateful for the way you have handled this ( and her). Hope it has not been too disruptive to your own life, but it has worked well for ours. 

Of course, as I have warned, once you let Molly get into your head, it's hard to get her out.

The slave of your slave, Mick

“Hmmm. The slave of your slave.  I like the sound of that.”

She kissed me again, her hand roaming to my cock. It was thickening at her touch.

But while round two of the morning was increasingly tempting, it was time for Molly and Mick to run some Saturday errands. So off we went.

By the time we got home, at around 12:30 or so, Mistress was in need of a nap, still fighting that cold, and her Slave was interested in watching the grudge match between our Yanks and the arrogant Brits.  I figured we were due more than a little revenge for the mess their company is making in the Gulf.

 Mistress also needed to rest up for the phone date she had planned with M for later that afternoon. So as she napped, I watched the game. The ending tie was a cruel consolation for an Irish nationalist like Mick.

Sort of like kissing Maggie Thatcher.

As the game was ending, Mistress showered, prepping for her date, and the date we had planned for the  movies afterwards.  As she showered her text chime went off. I dutifully reported that her I-phone screen showed a one word message from M:   “call?”

He was ready for her. Mistress smiled. I excused myself.

“I will be out doing some yard work, Mistress….”

“Ok, Slave. I will come for you when we are done.”

I was toiling and sweating in the hot and humid sun, cock twitching  a the  thought of Mistress upstairs, legs splayed, Hitachi in hand, and responding to his verbal commands.  Then my cell phone rang.”

“Why don’t you come in now, Slave.”

Ah. They were done.  A little quicker than I had expected, but fine by me. 

I shed my shirt, sweat dripping from me, as I climbed the stairs.  Mistress was naked in our room. She liked my “field Slave” look, and snapped a shot. 

“He’ll like this”, she said . “I’m telling him I called you in from the fields to service your Mistress.”

In this case, that was the truth.

It did not take us long to become prone, hands all over one another.

“How many times did he make you come, Mistress.”

“Only twice, Slave….”

Only.

By now I was between her legs. Lapping up some of those accumulated juices.

“And how does that work, Mistress””

Well … we start to talk … about ….whatever….and he reminds me to use my fingers between my legs….”

I figured Mistress did not need much reminding.

“Does he let you come with your fingers, Mistress?”

“No….I have to wait.”

That could be a little hard.

“Then….when he thinks I am ready….he tells me to turn on the Hitachi, Slave.”

I did not need further details. I knew how crazy our power tool makes her.  And by now my teeth and lips were clinging and tugging at her clit and she was coming for me.  Not as hard as for the Hitachi, but she seemed pleased.

“I want to taste my cock now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress. It’s yours”.  And I rolled onto my back, letting her have her way with it. 

Soon I was the one doing the squirming. She knew I was more than ready to fill her.

“Why don’t you get on top, Mistress.”

“Good idea, Slave.”

Then I cruelly exploited her fantasy numero uno these days, squeezing her nipples, I worked the story line.

“I know you like to think about him making you  ride his cock this way, Mistress. Feeling him throb deep inside you, forcing you to rub yourself hard against him but making you wait to come until he decided it was time…..you need that don’t you, Mistress?”

Somewhere in the midst of her moaning, writhing climax I heard something that sounded like “Oh…yes, Slave…I do.”

I let her slow a bit, then slid my fingers down from her nipples,  massaging  her needy little clit insistently even as she continued to rub hard and desperately against the cock buried deep within her..

“Just imagine him filling you this way, Mistress….demanding that you continue to ride him until he had enough of you….I’m sure that would take some time, wouldn’t it?”

In a few more moments, she was coming one more time, with another exuberant moan climbing from somewhere deep inside, then collapsing onto me, exhausted.

I let her rest a bit before we rolled over, and took the time required to redeem fully the field hand’s reward for a solid workday.

And in my mind, I had to thank M for priming Mistress so thoroughly for me.

Q. and A. with Mick and Molly

Yesterday was a bit of a rare sexual semi-washout for us. First Mick, then Molly have been stricken by a cold/flu passed on by a grandson.

Well…we did have sex Friday morning. And Mistress did make me wear my cage, since we were driving separately. Not that she needs an excuse. Hopefully that earned her some Domme brownie points with her trainer, M.

But when we got home….Mistress crashed with this flu. We both had a brief nap, followed by dinner for 10. Then to bed at 1 am, tired and tipsy. So a pass was well in order.  Hopefully Mistress will have a good sleep in this morning.

But I hate to leave you loyal readers without something to consume on a Saturday. It might make you turn to the dark side --- maybe the BP spill cam. How tedious.

So here are some of the questions we have heard (or you may have), with our “candid” answers:

Q. Do you guys really have sex that often?

A. Actually we have it more often than reported here. But if I wrote any more it would cut into our sex time. (and life too.)

Q. Why the blog?

A. To please Mistress. It allows Mick to say some things that my taciturn Irish guy demeanor does not always allow through the spoken word. Like how much I worship Molly. Truly.

That I am hers.

Forever.

That I like what she’s wearing.

That she always, always, look’s nice.

That I am very lucky to have her.

You get the point. And it is all true. But sometimes as we hunker down through the rigors and tedium of daily life, the words don’t spring from my tongue as often as they should. With the blog, Mistress can read it all and also get a few laughs each morning, usually with my tongue worming it’s way between her clean shaven folds.

Of course it’s had some other interesting fringe benefits, including meeting an interesting rogue’s gallery of characters, some of whom appear on these pages. It also eggs us on. Variety makes for interesting things to write about. So we create variety.

Q. How did the Western Correspondent get his job?

A. After journalism school M’s resume asserts that he did several internships in the mountain west, some that involved clever uses of his reputedly perpetually rigid cock. We are a little sloppy, so I never checked his references. But, as you have learned, he does talk a good game.

When he learned of “Under Contract for his Wife” as an emerging, if deviant, voice in the blogo-sphere, he impressed both of us with his clever comments. Not long after his comments appeared, he began emailing us tales of his exploits, including with his wife B, who has been known to wield a painful paddle. We began running some of M tales and commentaries as part of the blog.

Of course, M has since begun to play a much more intimate role in Molly’s life. That began with a phone call while Molly was on a long road trip. And now the mere sound of his voice, or the chime of one if his salacious text messages seems to get her cunt all damp and her pelvis all squirmy. He’s doing an excellent job of training her to be his slave in sex. The folks at Hitachi should consider hiring the two of them as spokes-models. Can’t you imagine them doing X- rated infomercials?

In any event, it’s an inspiring “lurker to master” story of internet hi-jinks, don’t you think? Hopefully Mistress will recover in time to participate in a phone date with him later today.

Q. Where is River City?

A. Well, we do like to preserve our anonymity. Let’s just say it’s not on the Rivers that Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young or Randy Newman sing about.

Q. The other night, did Mistress actually let Mick come after all that teasing?

A. She has authorized me to waive on her behalf the Mistress Slave privilege. Yes, she was merciful. Despite M’s recommendation, she did allow me to come. She says she did so because she likes it when I come with her permission, not necessarily to end my frustration.

Is it a wonder that I worship her so deeply?


Please let us know if you have any other questions.

Worship Extravaganza

Mistress has been particularly horny of late.

No doubt it has a lot to do with her ongoing infatuation (enslavement?) via phone, text and email with our Western Correspondent.

He seems to know how to press Mistress’s buttons. But since I am the one with cock and tongue available at the drop of Mistress’s panties, I am more than happy to serve as his surrogate back here in River City.

Mistress had an early morning conference call yesterday.

So when I came upstairs and handed her my “homework” to read, she was happy to accept my worship – a slow and gentle massage of her slick and delicious cunt with my tongue – but we did not have the time for me to fuck her properly. Her Duty called.

Shortly before she headed to lunch with a colleague she called to let me know she would be making an office call at around 1:30. I knew what that meant.

When she arrived I pulled the chair to the door, spread out the blanket on the chair to avoid those tell tale stains on the upholstery, and fell my knees.

My duty called.

And it’s always nice to savor mistress musky enthralling juices on my lips through the rest of the day.

On the drive home, Mistress shared a bit of her ongoing dialogue with M. It appeared she had let it be known that she was particularly horny that afternoon.  And while I am sure she would have liked to hear his voice directing her to switch on the Hitachi and press it against herself just so, that was not in the cards last evening.

“He told me I should have my Slave worship me when we get home.”

“Happy to accommodate, Mistress.”

So before heading out for our evening bike ride, Mistress  lay on the bed, legs draped over the side, spread wide as I knelt before her.

I used my conventional techniques to take her to one gentle orgasm. But Mistress just lay there, legs still spread, eyes screwed shut, mind, who knows where. (well, I had a good idea where her mind was).

And until she tells me to stop, it’s my duty to continue to please her, isn’t it?

So I proceeded, but tried a change up that seemed to catch her off guard.

Mistress’s fantasy life with M apparently features much rougher, more demanding treatment than she gets from her more malleable slave. So I went at her with my mouth with  a pace and tenacity that was closer to ferocious than tender. I pulled her clit and lips hard and from side to side with my lips and teeth.

Soon Mistress was squirming and moaning and coming. And then coming again. It was a worship-palooza.

Experiment is the mother of invention. I need to file that technique  away for further adventures.

After Mistress came back to  earth, she relaxed her thighs, which had a death grip on my head for that 3^rd orgasm. I moved back a bit and captured the view of her cleanly shaven pussy spread wide and open for me, still dripping from a combination of our juices.

“Nice view, Mistress. Maybe we should take a picture for M.”

She seemed to think that was a good idea.

So I used her I-phone to snap a few. She picked the most alluring one and texted it off to him with the caption “Slave’s eye view.”

We wanted to make sure he knew we had both followed his directions.

HNT/ Some New Rules for Mistress

Molly and Mick drove with one of the surly teens to work and back yesterday. Summer vacation has begun, and we decided to bribe her to “volunteer” for a local political campaign as an incentive to actually get out of bed before noon.

So on the way home, after both of us had busy days, we could not have our normal smutty chat about Molly’s interactions with her Master, or our plans for the evening, other than in “code”.

Mistress was sitting next to me, smirking a bit, fiddling with her I-phone. I am thinking “texting with M, no doubt”. Wondering what was up. My Internal temperature rising.

“I have a business call later tonite.”

“Really. Different time zone?”

“Yes. That OK wth you?”

“Of course it’s OK. I have some things to keep me busy tonight.”

Interpretation: Mistress had arranged for a phone “date” with M this evening. Slave had no standing to object. Nor would I.

We had talked about this earlier. I had sensed that because of their busy schedules, Mistress and M had been shut out so far this week, with none of their intimate little sex chatting since Sunday. My guess was that this “drought” was getting to Mistress, which may have explained her wild and crazy response to the Hitachi the night before.

She needed to hear his voice telling her what to do with that unrelenting little power tool. And I told her that was fine with me. Not so long ago, Mistress was taking an entire evening with her former Dom (the other M). I certainly had no problem with a long and sultry sex chat in the comfort of our bedroom. And I suspected I would get some “clean up” action afterwards. Win – Win – Win.

Then she dropped another coded “bomb”.

“By the way, he says I should ‘wait’ until we talk.”

Hmmmm. No worship? I stifled the next, obvious question. The teen was in the back, no doubt oblivious, but I really wanted to question Mistress on this one. And that would have to wait.

When we got home and were alone for a moment in our room, Mistress had that sly little smile on her face. She was changing from the black power suit into her black biking outfit . I slid up behind her, a hand snaking between her legs, and into the black panties she was wearing. She was already damp, of course. Anticipating.



“So he says no orgasms until your talk tonight, Mistress?”

“That’s right Slave. He wants me all throbbing and horny just for him.”

My finger was testing her resolve.

“No worship then?”

“Sorry. Not tonight, Slave.”

“But aren’t you horny for my tongue.”

I was rubbing a bit harder. Mistress pulled my finger away.

“Of course, Slave. I’d love your tongue now, but rules are rules.”

My she was the obedient little Slave tonight. The training must be working. And the thought that he was programming her to reduce and channel her orgasm output. Hot.

After our bike ride and dinner, Mistress got her call from M as we were sitting on a downstairs couch, listening to Keith Olberman rant.

“Hi…. Let me just walk upstairs.”

Then Mistress patted me on the head, gave me a sympathetic look, and giggled her way up the stairs. I spent the next 70 minutes or so on some busy work I had brought home, and trolling through Hulu for interesting video clips on a lost hero, RFK.

Occasionally, I could hear Mistress pacing a bit upstairs, the soft murmur of her voice. And of course there were moments of relative silence. I imagined her with the Hitachi between her legs, responding to his cues and commands, and writhing in bliss the way she had the night before.

Those were the thoughts that made my cock twitch.

But soon Mistress was back downstairs, stroking my back. Suggesting I come upstairs with her.

I lay on the bed, naked as she likes, while she went through her evening beauty rituals.

“We spent the last 20 minutes or so talking about you, Slave. He says I am an embarrassment as a Mistress.”

“How so, Mistress? “

“I am way to easy on you, Slave. He says lots of Mistress’s would keep their slave in y caged for 3 or 4 days at a time. And that I should restrict your orgasms too. He wants to coach me to be a better Mistress.”

Hmmm.

Twitch. My hardening cock was obvious to her as she walked toward the bed.

“I suspect he’d like that, Mistress. My cock locked away. And your needy little cunt more dependent on him for its action. “

By now she was in bed next to me. Our hands were roaming. My cock was hard.

“Maybe, Slave.”

“He said that tonite I should make you worship me, let you fuck me for a while, but not let you come.”

Argh.

“That would be Cruel, Mistress.”

Of course that made me want her all the more. She just smiled that wicked smile, holding her cards close.

“But he said that was at my discretion. Not a hard command.”

“So I guess I have a chance, Mistress?”

“Let’s just see how this develops, Slave.”

I found my self between her legs, engaging in a long, slow massage of the cunt that had already had three power tool induced orgasms that night. I figured she was in need of something gentle and soothing. And after a while the therapy seemed to have the proper effect, as Mistress came with a sudden jerk and moan against my lips.

“Let me suck you for a while, Slave.”

And she did. Nice and slowly, me lying back, talking to her in more detail about her evening. Wondering whether this was all a colossal tease, or if I would be allowed the direction of the type of explosion that was now seeming close and inevitable.

It was me doing the moaning now.

“What do you want, Slave?”, She asked, as her fingers toyed with my balls, and her tongue took a slight break from driving my shaft crazy.

“I would really like to fuck you, Mistress.”

“All right then.”

And she let me mount her, legs spread wide, eyes scrunching closed as I filled her.

“You are SO hard, Slave.”

“You make me that way, Mistress.”

As I thrust into her, reveling in her tight and warm hug of my desperate cock, I still did not know if I would be granted permission to come when I begged for it.

But that was a bridge to cross after I gave her the nice hard fucking that no power tool can provide (at least that’s what I like to tell myself).

What happened next is subject to the Mistress / Slave privilege.