Heading Back to River City. Damn.

We hit the long road back soon, after one more bike ride through our little piece of heaven. But we will miss the rare opportunity for a week away without surly teens, the pressure of work, or that damnable river valley humidity. “Heat emergency”, here we come.

Mistress has made her Slave grow his beard out these last few days. In my opinion, one reason is that Master M, has some fluffy facial hair, as demonstrated by the photo that pops up when he calls Mistress on her I-phone.

So, on the 4th, when two of our local female friends commented on my newly scruffy look, and asked what was up, I simply told the truth:

“Molly is having fantasies about having sex with a guy with a beard. I am just trying to accommodate her.”

Of course they just laughed at my “clever joke”. If only they knew the hi-jinks of their seemingly bland friends from the “conservative” heartland!

Yesterday we wallowed in the waters at a local Hot Springs Resort (no private pool this time), enjoyed an al fresco dinner on our patio, watched another amazing lipstick sunset from our front porch, then joined some friends for dancing and a few drinks under the stars on the lawn nearby Roadhouse.

It was the perfect way to end a perfect vacation.

When we got home, higher up the mountain, away from the ambient light of that busier part of “town”, the stars were out in their complete glory, the milky way a creamy blur arching above us.

Mistress and Slave were both naked by the time we stepped outside our bedroom to catch the show, clinging for warmth in the cool mountain air.

And then, as we retreated to our bedroom, I “thought out loud”.

“Gotta remember to pack my little white probe, Mistress.”

“Hmmmm….is that a request, Slave….”

“Well…..”

“Why don’t you put it in now, Slave….that might be the best reminder….”

“Of course, Mistress.”

And when I came to bed, probe duly inserted, my cock was already beginning to stir.

We clung, kissed, my fingers sliding between Mistress’s legs, as we talked about what a wonderful trip it had been. And soon Mistress was tipping over into orgasm land, coming with a little shudder and stifling a moan into my shoulder.

Her fingers had, by then, slid down to cozy my cock.

“”Oh my, already hard for me, Slave. Nice….very nice.”

She invited me to fuck her, and I did not take the time to RSVP.

And as I did my “duty”, varying the pace, I explained how well she had me trained.

“I really don’t think I could come without your permission any longer, Mistress….you have me programmed.”

“I like that Slave”, she said between those little moaning sounds she makes as I pump into her, “but I don’t think I really have tried to program you…it just turned out that way.”

“Really, not even a little, Mistress?”

“Well, maybe a little….”

“It’s nice to be programmed, Mistress….takes away difficult choices. I just need to wait for your invitation, and then I am ready.”

I had backed off a bit, and was using my finger to diddle Mistress’s clit, even as I continued to slide my hips this way and that against her.

“Mmmm….that’s good Slave.”

Exactly what was good – what I had said, or what I was doing - was unclear. But good is good.

By now my fingers were frantically rubbing her naughty parts, as my other hand pinned her arms above her head. All the while my cock was plunging into her. She was oh so close….

“How would that feel if M programmed you Mistress …. Made it so you could come only with his permission, the way I am programmed by you.”

“I don’t know Slave…..”, she seemed genuinely confused.

But Somehow those thoughts of such complete submission to her long distance Master were just a little too much for her, and her hips launched into some powerful convulsions against my own. Her head was thrown back, eyes screwed shut. It was a poteny one, if I do say so myself.

And it was about then that I proved my point.

“Mistress, may I come….”

“Yes, Slave, you may.”

Mistress Meets Some New Toys.

Molly and Mick were out rather late Saturday night, listening to a local band with some friends at a funky old road house. There was dancing and drinking and great people watching.

So when we woke a bit groggily Sunday morning, with big plans for the 4^th, Mistress seemed to think that my switch privileges would slip my mind. 

Think again, Mistress.

After I made us  lattes and let her read yesterday’s entry, I told her to gird herself for an hour or so as my little subbie. She whined a bit, but was a good sport as I locked the red cuffs on her, then tied her hands to opposite corners of the bed, face up. Some leather cuffs joined her ankles closely together.

I kissed her a bit, fondling her lovely breasts, making her all nice and squrimy. Then excused myself from the room to retrieve some items recently ordered from Amazon, with guidance from SFP, our blogger colleague from Peacefully Submissive.

“Where are you going, Slave?”

“Back in a moment, Mistress.”

Mistress became both animated and vocal when I returned a moment later to show her our new toys: two nipple clamps that operate like little vices, as they screw down onto their targets.

“Oh, no you, don’t Slave…..”

“Oh, yes, Mistress….remember our rules. Sunday you are mine…..”

Our previous experiment with clamps a few months back had not gone well. The devices we tried were either too loose, and would fall off, or too tight, and would be simply too painful for my beloved Mistress. I was hoping these new little pinchers would solve the problem.

It took a cube of ice to help make Mistress’s nipples sufficiently firm and perky. Thankfully I had tied her down well, because she made every effort to avoid the inevitable, squirming away, accusing me of the most vile betrayal. (I suppose a gag would have helped. Maybe next time.)

But with my leg pressing against her hips to help keep her still, I was able to screw one clamp then the other on effectively. And they stayed on without producing tears or too much pain.

When I was done, I used the melting cube of ice to tease Mistress’s cunt a bit. She squirmed and yelped a bit more as the cold surface met her toasty clit.

But when I raised the swiftly melting cube to my lips, I was delighted by the musky taste of her arousal.

“Wow, very nice, Mistress. Tastes great. You must be pretty turned on. We could market this as a cunt-cicle.”

Mistress seemed to miss the humour.

“How are the clips, Mistress?”, I asked, hoping they were not too intolerable.

“ummmm…interesting, Slave.”

I took that as a sign that the experiment had been successful so far. Then pushed onto the next stage of our morning’s activities.

“Let’s see if they stay on as we get a bit more... physical, Mistress.”

She just gave me a withering look.

“Mistress, I want you to imagine that M decided to abandon his resolve for a day and pop down for a visit. I’ve prepared you for him, and just now he’s pulling into the driveway and is about to meet you in the flesh  for the first time.”

“mmmmm ….. OK, Slave.”

My fingers were sliding through her naked lips, making her cunt rise to meet them. A tongue just touched the tip of her left nipple where it poked through the little plastic vice. She screwed shut her eyes, making interesting sounds. Was it pain, or pleasure? Either way, I liked the result.

“How would it feel to meet him for the first time like this, all naked and restrained  and so very vulnerable?”

“It would be embarrassing….humiliating, Slave.”

“Exactly.”

The Hitachi was on hand and I flipped it on.

“And what if he ordered you to order me to lock on my cage then, so his would be the only cock available to you for the duration….would you follow his order, Mistress?”

She moaned a bit as I pressed the little churning bulb between her bound legs.

“I suppose I would have to, Slave.”

We went on with the fantasy as I used the device on her to build her just to the brink of an explosive orgasm, with me teasing her out, moving the machine on and off the parts that would take her over the edge. It makes her so wonderfully desperate.

But then I remembered something, and switched the power tool off.

“Hey….what are you doing, Slave?”

She was more than a little miffed.

“Getting the camera, Mistress. I suspect M and the rest of our readers will want to see what these new clips look like.”

A groan of frustration was heard as I stepped out of the room. But soon I was back, and snapped the photo above.

These clips are keepers. (Just hope Mistress does not try to experiment with these on me.)

“Now, where were we, Mistress?”

I started from scratch. Our guests would not be arriving for 3 hours or so.

So there was more kissing, stroking, and then more Hitachi. This time I was not cruel, but enjoyed making Mistress go over the top with lots of moaning and gyrating enthusiasm.

And then she got my desperately hard cock, still bound by her arms to the bed. All in all she seemed to relish a Switch morning that she had probably hoped to avoid.

And when I released the clips, her nipples were still intact.

“So how were they Mistress?”

“Not terrible, Slave….,” she admitted grudgingly.

Actually, I think they will grow on her. I am already thinking of new ways to use them. It’s a shame we have to wait until Sunday.

Mistress Multi-Tasks with Her Riding Crop

Molly and Mick had some aching muscles Saturday morning after that long climb up and retreat down from the Peak.

But there were things to do in preparation for a gathering here Sunday as a prelude to our local Fourth of July Parade.

After some pleasing morning sex – fueled in part by Vanilla Mom’s clever fictionalized speculations about the adventures of Molly, Slave Mick and Master M (http://vanillamom.wordpress.com/2010/07/03/the-mountain-pt-3/), I had to trundle some bags of trash off to a local dumpster (trash collection is not one of the limited public services here in hideaway land).

I was only gone 15 minutes or so, but when I walked into the house I discovered Mistress in bed, a sheet wrapped over her lush and naked body, the perspiration barely dry from our recent romp, chatting with animated bliss to M.

The site of her on her belly, phone to her ear, ear to ear grin, and pelvis all squirmy against our sheets, was a tribute to how skillfully he has trained her to respond to his masterful voice.

Impressive.

“M is on the phone, Slave. I hope you don’t mind.”

Of course I didn’t.

“Slave’s already up and busy today”, she said into the phone with a little giggle.

She does like referring to me as her Slave. And M is really the only one she can do that to these days.

I explained that I would have some breakfast, then head off to the grocery store to collect some beverages and vittles for our 4th of July brunch. Then I left Mistress to her Master.

Could hear them talking about the days activities in the background as I downed some corn flakes and strawberries. But before I headed off , Mistress came out into the kitchen to kiss me goodbye, still naked, phone still in hand.

“Don’t be gone long, Slave.”

“I won’t ….and have fun, you lovebirds.”

I knew they were waiting for the “good stuff” until I was off. They are considerate that way.

“Did you hear that M? I think he’s being a little sarcastic.”

I kissed Mistress again.

“We may have to deal with that sarcasm when you get home, Slave.”

I kind of liked that idea.

I did our shopping and stopped briefly at a local farmer’s market for some freshly baked delights from a booth called “Z-Best Scones”. (You can’t make this stuff up). I figured Mistress might be a little hungry when I got back. And not just for my cock.

As I drove up the valley toward our home, my cell phone rang.

‘Slave….when will you be home?”

She seemed a little impatient.

“In about 5 minutes, Mistress.”

“Good….I have plans for you. “

“Oh really…what sort of plans, Mistress?”

I suspected that M had been coaching her. He does like to urge her to take a firmer hand with me.

“You’ll see….I want you to put away the groceries, and then come into the bedroom and strip.”

Why does that sort of talk make my cock twitch?

Naturally, I hit the gas and got home pronto. The provisions were stored away. And Mistress was waited for me in the bedroom, as naked as when I left her about 90 minutes earlier.

“How was your chat with M, Mistress?”

“Very nice, Slave.”

“How many times, Mistress?”

“Twice, Slave….”

I imagined all the moaning and writhing to the tune of M’s voice and the bizz of the Hitachi. Naughty Mistress.

All the while I was stripping off shorts and t-shirt. Then she indicated that I should lie across the bed, bottom up.

I noticed the riding crop leaning against the desk. Gulp.

“Slave….I need to call our friend Bunny to remind her to come over tomorrow…lay there quietly while I get her number.”

I heard Mistress walking about, retrieving our little local phone directory, then punching the numbers into our portable phone.

As she talked to Bunny, filling her in on our climb to the Peak and plans for the 4th, Mistress walked back into the bedroom.

I was just laying there face down, bottom exposed. Then I felt the tip of the crop, sliding across my ass. Mistress was talking to Bunny, and teasing me with the crop at the same time.

Anticipation.

The soft touch of the crop was giving me goose bumps, and making my cock twitch against the bedspread. Argh. “Get on with it Mistress”, is what I wanted to say. But I stifled my impertinence.

Mistress was in no hurry to finish her talk . She was enjoying the tease.

But finally she rang off, and turned her attention to me.

Ouch. The first blow was a stinging surprise.

“To what do I owe the honor of this punishment, Mistress?”

“Nothing particular Slave. I just think I need to remind you more frequently who is in charge around here.”

Ouch. A few more blows rained down on my ass. I was squirming. Bouncing on the bed. Biting the bedspread to keep from crying out.

But after no more than ten or so swipes of the crop, Mistress was done. She really is pretty gentle with me.

“Roll over, Slave,”

I did. She used the crop to tease, then torment my cock into a state suitable for her use. Clever multitasking with the tool, Mistress.

Then she mounted me. By then my cock was desperate for her. And her fingers reaching back to tease my balls had me almost in the verge within seconds. But, of course, Mistress’s pleasure would come first. And it did.

“I needed this cock when M was done with me Slave”, she said in her best mock scold voice. “What took you so long?”



“

MIstress Joins the 13.000 Ft. Club

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Molly and Mick have a self-flagellation ritual we perform each year out here at our mountain hideaway. We rise at 6 am to climb a 13,500 ft. peak with a trailhead not far from our front porch. This is a 7 hour “jaunt” which, though amply painful, provides some reassurance that we have not grown too old for such adventures.

The trail is steep. The air is thin. You count your steps in clumps of 10 or 20. Along the way we courteously step aside for a band of bighorn sheep in search of some lush grazing above the tree line.  I am told they are not carnivores, but don’t want to get too close to find out.

But when, after about 3 hours, lungs and limbs stretched to the max, you scramble onto a saddle that links two rock strewn summits, and see the 360 degree, million dollar view  stretches out before you, well, suddenly, you forget the pain.

Our slow but steady climb had been shrouded by some low hanging clouds, but when we hit the summit the clouds cleared for a brilliant and warming sun. We settled in against a primitive hand built rock wind shelter at the top, ate our lunch, snapped some photos, and marveled at the view.

But it seemed we had to do something for our readers too.

Unlike on other occasions at this summit, we were all alone. Three women we had talked with at the top were already scrambling down, hoping to avoid some wet weather blowing our way.

We saw no one approaching from below.

“Would Mistress like some worship?”

She giggled at the thought.

“I suppose it would be wrong to say no, Slave.”

Mistress found a rock to perch on, then slid off her shorts and panties, letting them dangle on a single foot.  I groveled a bit, finding something soft to kneel on, and went to work.  Then I took the photo above to share with M and the rest of you.

Fortunately, Mistress came after only a few moments of my experienced ministrations, bucking against my mouth as her fingers wound themselves tightly into my graying hair.

As the saying goes, summiting is optional; coming down is mandatory.

So, as the wind picked up, we packed up out things, took a few final photos to evidence our accomplishment, and began the long and painful scramble down the loose rock and steep muddy ruts that passes for a trail.

Believe it or not, the down part is harder on legs and ankles, than the climb. It was a battle with gravity for the next 2 miles that had us cursing our poor judgment in doing this yet again. (We annually resolve to try the easier route next year, only to forget our resolution in our need to prove we have not lost a step in the preceding year).

At the halfway mark, the trail eases to something more routine, opening up to a lovely alpine lake. I reminded Mistress that last year I had worshipped her as she lay across a large, flat rock overlooking the lake.

I was surprised when she said, “Time for a rest, Slave….maybe we do that again right now.”

It was reassuring to hear Mistress show her interest in my tongue, despite what were certainly aching feet and legs.

So Mistress lay back on her perch, legs spread, panties dangling from an ankle. And I had some soft grass to kneel on as I worshipped her once more. In fact the position was so relaxing that I carried her off to two nifty orgasms, as her thighs embraced my head, and she lay back resting her sore body on that flat rock.

But as she finally pushed me away, I heard Mistress mutter.

“Oh, Shit.  There is someone up there.”

I turned and spotted a male hiker, higher up on the trail, as it emerged from a pine forest. Hopefully his camera was snapping shots of the lake, not of the foxy hiker splayed out on the rock in between him and the lake.

Mistress quickly slid her panties and shorts back into place, and we finished the Bataan Death March portion of our hike. 2 more miles to our car on shuffling, aching tootsies.

When we finally were back at our cabin, stiff, high hiking boots parked away until next summer, Mistress found some texts from M waiting for her. Her Master was worried, and wanted to know if we had made it back.

“Do you mind if I call him, Slave.”

Of course, I had no right to object.

They chatted a while as my stiff and aching body rested next to her in our bed. Near the end of their conversation, Mistress raised a scheduling issue with me.

“Slave, M asked if we can have a date later tonight….”

“Of course, Mistress….”

We had some local friends coming over for drinks at around 7:30, so Mistress was planning something  with M for after their visit. And when our guests  left at around 9 (our bodies were way too sore to join them for dinner at a local sushi joint), you could see Mistress’s attention quickly shifted to her potential engagement with M.

The image I remember is her holding her I-phone in one hand, texting him her availability, while sliding off skirt and panties with the other hand, to be ready for him.

“Where’s the Hitachi, Slave?”

What a cute and horny, Mistress.

With a certain wry amusement, I showed her that her tool of choice was safely sitting at our bedside, all plugged in and ready for her.

Yes, readers, it IS lots of fun for me to see Mistress in such a concupiscent state, anxious for the incendiary words that her Master uses to fuel her desire . She’s got it bad, and in this case it’s good. And I always seem to cash in at the end.

“I will step out now, Mistress”:, I said, picking up my computer.

“You can stay Slave….or, you can leave the door open.”

I do think Mistress is concerned about not hurting my feelings about her relationship with M. She loves me deeply, as I do her.  But I also think this development has been very good for her at a number of levels, not just the primo orgasms. And I believe that Molly and M need a privacy zone to maintain  and nurture what they have going.

“No. that’s Ok, Mistress, you two lovebirds need your privacy.”

I think she was grateful, though she certainly had the authority to lock me away somewhere out of earshot had she chosen to use it.

I worked on a few things on my computer, including this blog. I could not hear what was going on behind our closed door, though I recall catching a bit of moaning at one point.

Then, after about 45 minutes, Mistress opened the door.

“What are you up to Slave?…..we are done with the sex part, why don’t you come back in.”

I was happy to climb into bed, after stripping away my cloths. Mistress was still chatting with M, her top and charming necklace still on. But that was all.

Unsurprisingly, and despite my body’s exhaustion, once I slid into bed next to Mistress, something quickly drew me to her. I found my mouth planted between her legs, sucking on the tender parts that were already quite damp and swollen from an orgasm or two with the assistance of the Power tool and M’s instructions.

Mistress chatted on with M, recounting our exploits on the mountain, but all the while her cunt was squirming against my lips.  Finally, she shared what was going on.

“M, so you know, his face is between my legs again….”

“He says you are reclaiming me, Slave.”

I suppose that was part of it. But I knew that M would understand.

And at that point, he must have launched into another little fantasy scenario, involving how he would take her, because Mistress’s chatty voice turned into her deeper, slutty voice, with murmurs like,

“Yes…”

“Of course I would…”

“Oh, yes, I would like that, M….”

And then she was writhing against my mouth, her thighs squeezing tight, her pelvis rising up off the bed, moaning her release to both her Master and her Slave.

And after Mistress bid a loving good night to M, she found that the hard cock she needs after those sessions was ready and waiting for her.