Mistress and I are headed back to River City on one of those annoying small planes that the “big” airlines make suckers who live in backwater towns fly on these days. We left a town where the pristine air was 60 degrees during our morning bike ride, with only 20 percent humidity.
Our destination is under a “Heat Emergency” of undetermined duration .
“Are these people crazy?”, you might ask? Well I suppose so. But one surly teen is home alone, no doubt with her boyfriend. And work calls. So it’s time to face the inevitable.
Beyond the weather here are ten things we are sure to miss in the days and weeks to come:
10. In River City, I can’t walk out the door and piss in the yard, with the excuse that I am saving scarce resources. I would be arrested for indecent exposure.
9. In River City the newspapers bring bad news everyday. But in our undisclosed location, the only newspaper is a weekly.
8. The rough hewn wooden beams at our cabin make it easy to screw in a hook, or bind a helpless slave, but in River City our woodwork is a bit too fragile to install such lashing points.
7. Can’t shoot my BB gun at prairie dogs in River City. And the SPCa would get in my face if I aimed at the neighbor’s cat.
6. Near our undisclosed location they let you wade into a private natural hot spring tub, nude (see the picture above), but in River City Mick and Molly get reprimanded at their swim club for an inadvertent PDA.
5. When someone offers you a cookie in our undisclosed location, you don’t have to wonder about how many calories it has, but whether it is loaded with “bud butter”.
4. In our undisclosed location, you have to steer clear of Big Horn Sheep and Black Bears; in River City you need to avoid Panhandlers and Tea Partiers.
3. Mistress be back to her 9-5 days and in a different time zone than her Master, making their erotic “dates” harder to schedule.
2. It will be Hard to schedule another naked Sunday anytime soon.
1.Mistress’s tan lines will reassert themselves. She did look fetching all naked and sun screened on that chaise lounge!
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.
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 4th, 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.
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?”
