Don Draper Goes Kinky

Mistress and her slave love MadMen.

For me it’s a strange flashback to my childhood. My parents were every bit as reckless and self-absorbed as Don and Betty.

The smoking.

The drinking. (particularly while smoking)

The womanizing.

The unhealthy cooking. (Tater tots with fish sticks, tonight kids).

The vapid TV. (Sky King and Penny).

The negligent, bad parenting. ("Go watch TV and leave me alone").

It’s amazing that I am still walking the earth to describe it to you.

And Mistress, who is a bit too young to remember that era, is fascinated by Draper’s craft, and the glamour of the era.

She’s still waiting for a Marilyn cameo (oops. Too late. I think she died two seasons ago).

Yesterday we finally caught the first episode of the new season. And had a preview listening to a long interview by the series creator on “Fresh Air” during a long drive for a college visit with Surly teen #1.

Don’s divorced now, living a single life in the Village, with occasional sleep over’s with his two young kids.

Another flashback to my father’s sad bachelor pad after he and my mother divorced sometime in the late 60’s.

The writer talked about Don’s foray into D/s and sure enough when we watched the episode, there was Don paying a shapely pro to pay a call in lieu of Thanksgiving. As she rode his cock, he told her to remove her bra.

But she was not taking orders.

“Who put you in charge?” she asked. “I know what you want”.

Then she proceeded to slap him silly as she continued to ride him.

Terri asked the writer why Don would indulge in this sort of sex play.

The writer had some theories: dating was too much work. Maybe it was easier for Don to pay than actually engage in the shallow 60’s mating ritual following his marital meltdown. And as for the D/s stuff:

“Maybe Don feels a need to be punished for all his lies and fuckups.” (well I guess he did not use that word. I’m paraphrasing.)

Bingo.

I suppose my own eagerness to submit to Mistress has a bit to do with that desire to grovel and suffer for my own mistakes and screw ups.

Then again adding a little theatre to our sex, after more than 20 years together, throws in some spice that seems to make the cock all that harder and the juices flow all the more quickly.

No point in trying to over think it when it feels so good.

And fear not, readers. After we watched Madmen, and although we had a long day of work and road trip-ing, Mistress and Slave did not roll over and turn out the lights the way Betty and her new husband did in episode one.

As we were settling into bed, Mistress made her instructions clear.

“Why don’t you go put in your device. Slave”.

“Of course, Mistress.”

I think Mistress was a little frustrated that she had not been able to speak to M these last two days. She was in the company of kids a good bit of the time, and he was buried in family and work himself.

So she seemed a bit antsy. My theory is that She has become addicted to the wicked balance of managing a Slave while M manages her. When M and she lose contact for more than a day, the balance gets lost.

But to me – it seems to make Mistress just a tab hornier for my old reliable cock.

It may not be as big or as hard as that fantasy cock with which she is obsessed.

But it seems to do the trick.

And by the time I made sure Mistress had her starter orgasm of the session, mine was ready to go.

But Mistress was not in so much of a hurray.

She fondled. She nipped. She teased. She drove me crazy.

“Ahhh….Mistress, wouldn’t you like me to fuck you now?”

I was squirming. Close to the edge. Trying to get my mind off of the tender but tormenting touch of my Mistress.

“What’s the rush, Slave?”

She laughed at my plight.

“You were pretty desperate for me this morning, Slave …. Why was that?”

Her fingers were tracing a devastating path along y length, circling the head. Arghh. Not a good time for a Q and A.

“Uhh….it had been nearly 24 hours, Mistress. You know how I get.”

“Well it’s been about 14 hours now, Slave…..should we just wait until morning to make sure you are desperate again?”

“Well I don’t know how much more desperate I can get.”

I think I was fortunate that Mistress wanted the hard cock almost as much as I wanted to fuck her. So at that point she relented, rolling over, legs spread, ready to be taken.

But I made sure to ask permission first.

Red Bottom and Frustration for Mistress

Molly and Mick got home late last night, surly teens huddled in the back seat, all of their electronica plugged in and amusing them, while we drove the bleak moonlit highway from that great city on the Lake to our more humble environs on the River.

And since I forgot to change my watch .... well Slave is pressed for time this morning, so I reserve the right to revise and extend these remarks, like some bloviating Senator or Congressman with an eye toward his "legacy" ( or avoiding electoral demise).

First, one of our comments yesterday, from the mysterious Sin, asked about the rules for our Switch days.

They are laid out in the contract. Slave gets two hours each Sunday to "turn the tables" on Mistress and subject her to all the "horrors" (punishment, bondage, yada, yada) that she can inflict on me the rest of the week.

Naturally, there are limits, I can't transfer rights to another person. Nor can I use my switch privileges to take pleasure from another. Not that I would want to stray.

Other than that, it's what an old cranky Judge I once had to deal with too often used to refer to as the "goosey, gander" rule. What's good for me all week long, must be good for Mistress for two short hours on a Sunday, right?

Of course, this also imposes a certain "honor among Dom/Domme's" since, if I go too far I know there will be some payback due. And she knows the same.

Then again, sometimes I do stretch the limits a bit with the twisted logic that maybe it will press some Mistressy buttons that will earn me the sort of (mis)treatment I so sorely deserve.

Manipulative?

Bad Slave. Very bad.

So those are the rules, but Sin, feel free to peruse the contract for any other sordid details. I believe it showed up again in early July.

AS for yesterday's Switch session, there was a cunning twist.

M, Mistress's remote Dom, had given me orders to make sure Mistress got a good hard spanking. As he put it, she had been "lippy" to him Friday night.

As M no doubt is discovering, Mistress can be a willful little slut if given too much rope, and she can taunt and tease with the best of them.

And so, after Mistress woke from her beauty sleep, I carried out my instructions.

I had brought the cute red cuffs and their brass padlocks, and as she perused my blog and several others, I locked them on each of her slender wrists.

She was stalling for time.

"You know you really don't have to spank me, Slave. You don't report to him, but to me."

"I do feel a certain compulsion though Mistress. Don't you look forward to reporting to him that you submitted to the punishment he prescribed."

"Well, I guess so, Slave."

"And just think how disappointed he would be in you if you conned me out of this little exercise"

"I suppose he would be, Slave."



When she finally put the computer aside, I linked them together with silver carabiner I packed for that purpose, so that her wrists were implacably bound together in front. Then rolled her over, running my fingers over her lush, firm and already squirming bottom.

"Hmmm, you already smell of sex, Mistress. I love the smell of wet cunt in the morning."

My fingers probed, tested, and confirmed that I was not imagining things.

And Misstress's ass wiggled all the more.

"I hope you are referring to mine, Slave."

"Only yours, Mistress. Only yours."

That's when I landed the first of many firm cracks to her insolent ass with my right hand.

Oh, yes. there were many protests of pain, agony even.

And I took a break or two to sooth her with my right hand as my left wormed its way under her to massage her little needy clit.

BUt tghen the spanking resumed.

I did not finish until my arm had gotten a little bit tired, and her bottom was red. Very red.

"That hurt, Slave."

There was a tone of indignation in her voice.

"make sure you let your friend out West know, Mistress."

But there is always a reward on switch day. ANd Mistress's always comes first.

(Hmmm.... planning ahead. maybe that get's switched too.)

The hitachi was still next to the bed, plugged in and ready, leftover from Mistress's Friday evening date with M. No doubt scandalizing the chamber maid.

I slid it under her still smarting ass, between her legs.

Mistress moaned with glee. Then began working herself to the denoument.

She thought.

But something funny happened on the way to Mistress's typically efficient power tool induced explosion.

She tried and she tried.

She clenched and squirmed.

But all she got was frustration.

"This is driving me crazy Slave"

What's wrong, Mistress?"

(can you hear the sarcasm in Slave's voice?)

"I'm not sure Slave...maybe it's the angle.....let me do it....."

The little slut wanted me to turn the controls over to her....on Switch day no less.The temerity was shocking. just shocking.

"But that would be wrong Mistress....it's my way or no way this morning.The worst thing that happens is you wait until tomorrow for that orgasm."

A howl of protest emitted from her frustrated maw.

Wish I had packed a gag.

But she accepted her medicine. And recommitted her cunt to coming exactly the way I had planned. I wormed the little device a bit further beneath her hips. Then the switch went on....Mistress came, and came, and came some more her hips literally bouncing off the bed as her thighs clung with dear life to that relentless device.

When she finally stopped shaking, her face blotchy and red, and the machine was set aside, she demanded that I fuck her. And I had no objection to her making demands of that time, even on our switch day.

Post script:

After we came down in a sweaty, sated heap we packed up our things and headed out for a long 21 mile bike ride with friends along the lake front. it was a glorious day in the windy city. And, yes, the wind was blowing for that long ride back to the Gold Coast when we finally turned around.

Mistress had left her I-phone at our friends' apartment, and when she got back there was a text from M:

"How is that bottom, Slave?"

Now you know, M.

Slave's Observations on the Lovebirds

Mistress and Slave had a lovely Chicago day yesterday.

Woke up early, did my blog.

Woke sleeping beauty to let her read my “opus” on our rather titillating evening.

Gripping  morning sex.

Long bike ride along this beautiful lake front bike trail.

 Mistress took the teens to do the females loose on Michigan Ave. thing while her Slave hit the nearby beach and read a book.

Robust afternoon sex.

Sushi with family.

Then a nice walk back, just Mistress and her Slave, enjoying the city, stopping off for a drink.

At some point in the day I got my own email from M, suggesting that I give Molly a nice firm spanking this morning, our switch day.

He said she had been “lippy” to him (the line about whether he was “blowing her off” for their Friday night date).

Well was it really a suggestion?

Mistress got the word  too.

“M says he told you to spank me tomorrow morning, Slave….”

“True, Mistress.  How do you like that?”

“I’m a little anxious, Slave.”

It’s interesting, isn’t it, that we both seem prepared to dance to M’s tune?

In a way, I feel a little sorry for them though.

Their relationship started with my suggestion that Mistress give M a call while she was on a long solo road trip for her job.

I must say I did not anticipate that they would take it in such an interesting direction.

And now they seem rather desperate for one another. But they are forced to carry on their “affair” by phone, text and email. The prospects for consummation seem dim, at least for now.

Poor dears.

Of course, I suppose if they did get together they might discover that – in real time – the chemistry is not there. Maybe things would just not fit together they way they do when they are murmuring smutty things to one another over the phone.

What if there is some strange incompatibility that would only be apparent with that first kiss? Or taste?

Though I doubt it.

My guess is it could be days before they came up for air.

This morning, as Mistress was sleeping, I read Remittance Girl’s clever article on how to cope with Unrequited love. She has some funny, but dead on strategies to consider.http://remittancegirl.com/discussions/desiring-the-unobtainable/

Remittance Girl - Erotic#EFF0A1

Next she needs to tackle how folks in Mistress and M’s boat cope with their inability to consummate the crazy love they have worked up for one another.

And if there is a role for this humble facilitator to help them, clue me in.

Now I have some orders to carry out.

Dispatch From the WIndy City

Molly and Mick are in Chicago this weekend, at the request of surly teen #2, who celebrates a birthday this weekend.

It’s about a 5 hour drive from River City. Tedious.

Unless your Mistress has a cyber Dom to text with to help pass the time.

The two teens were in the back,, earbuds in place, focused on computer screens or music.

Mick was at the wheel for a good part of the drive,

Molly was teasing and being teased by her Dom, our Western Correspondent.

Of course, when she share some of their repartee, we spoke softly and / or in code so as not to disrupt the image our children have of their Mom and Dad: “too boring for words.”

“He wonders if we can have another conversation like last night?”

“Up to you, dear.”

(I try – hard – to remember not to call her Mistress when the kids are within earshot.)

“Would it be wrong with a hotel room available for the two of us to being doing … that.”

“Not if that’s your desire….your call. Maybe I could be there to ‘assist’.”

“Hmmm….I will explain the options to him ….”

(Mistress seemed to be struggling with the challenge of not calling me ‘Slave’).

AS things developed, Mistress and M agreed on a time – after our family dinner – and that I would be sent out for a drink with maybe some “three way” time at the end. While Slave enjoys participating in their pervy fun from time to time, it probably works better for then when their sessions are their own deep, nasty secrets.

But midway through the trip, Mistress added a zinger---

“He says I’m not allowed to – you know – until our call tonight …..”

My guess is that Mistress shared the same little zing to her juicy parts that those instructions sent o my cock. A twitch of excitement at the thought of my Mistress submitting to another man’s cunning manipulations.

I whispered to her in response: does that make you damp dear?”

She just nodded her head, a little blush seemed apparent on her face.

We finally arrived in the Windy City at dusk, in the midst of a flashing thunderstorm. The kids were dropped off at relatives, and we headed to check into our hotel before hooking up for dinner.

A little private time.

“Slave….you won’t believe what he’s been up to….”

“You mean he got a head start on you, Mistress.”

Yes – and sent me a picture.”

She flashed the I-phone my way, and showed me a photo of a large cock, ready for her.

I chuckled, “I think you like that Mistress.”

“Is that bad, Slave?”

“No….It’s good for you, Mistress. You make a good slut for him, don’t you.”

“I suppose I do, Slave….”

Since Mistress was off limits until her phone call, we cleaned up and met the family for dinner, Indian fare that our daughter craved.

We were dropped off a few blocks from our hotel, and Mistress called M to let him know she would soon be ready for him.

“Your’re not going to blow me off are you?, she asked.

A rather nervy way for a Slave to talk to his Master, don’t you think.

Apparently that was his thought too.

I came back to the room with Mistress, helped her locate and plug in the Hitachi (can’t travel without it – “be prepared “ remains my motto), then grabbed the Times to read at the bar downstairs until called into action.

By the time I was heading for the door, Mistress was already stripped, laying wantonly across the king size bed, trusty Hitachi at her side.

What a wanton, greedy little thing, don’t you think?

She was desperate for his voice and the pleasure he would wring from her.

I asked permission to snap a photo with her phone, so she could text it to him, to see what he had wrought.

Then bid adieu.

At the bar I nursed a Jamieson, read up on the latest grim news about the housing market to distract myself. But the thought of Mistress writhing in pleasure four floors above me had me ---- on edge.

After about an hour I was growing both sleepy and impatient. So I risked the wrath of Mistress, texting her “can I come up now, Mistress?”

She quickly responded: “Yes, Slave.”

I settled my tab, hopped to, and waited impatiently for the elevator.

When I finally clicked through the door she was there, naked, walking about that post-orgasm animation putting a bounce in her step.

“Good. Slave’s back now…..Slave, M and I are just finishing up….take your cloths off. Now.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Soon Mistress switched on the speaker phone, so we could all be heard.

M and I exchanged respectful greetings.

“M says I deserve to be spanked because I was surly to him tonight, Slave. When asked if he was blowing ne off.”

“Would he like me to spank you on his behalf, Mistress?”

“Not until Sunday, Mick”

I made a note to be especially firm with her on our switch day.

But Mistress had other things in mind.

“We forgot the crop, didn’t we Slave. No, M, no shoehorn in this room …. But look. There’s Mick’s belt.”

She told me to get on the bed, bottom up,

I could barely hear M’s voice, but she heard and conveyed his directions.

“He’s lying on the bed now….No slave, M says it’s better to punish you with you on all fours.”

So there I was, on all fours for the second night in a row. And Mistress was wielding the belt.

“Ouch”.

I didn’t want to be a whiner. So took my medicine. It hurt, but Mistress was not too cruel. And at M’s bemused direction, she reached down a few times to fondle my cock and balls.

The carrot and the stick approach.

I’m a sucker for it.

After a about 15 slashes with the belt, Mistress allowed me to be “at ease”, and I offered to worship as she finished up her conversation with her Master.

The speakerphone was off now as they traded some mushy words before signing off.

They really are cute little lovebirds.

And of course now came the good part – at least for me.

After these talks, Mistress has a need for some firm, grade A cock. And all this taunting, teasing, whacking, stroking, Dom coaching, humiliating, and cunt sucking had me in prime condition to service her.

We rolled across the bed, lips locked, one of my fingers probing her firm ass while another hand slid through her juicy folds.. Soon Mistress was succumbing to my fingers for a little preview orgasm.

“How many times tonight with Him, Mistress?”

“Three Slave…”

Yikes. So she had just had her fourth. With more to come.

“And did he come for you too, Mistress?”

“Yes, he did Slave.”

She was rolling on top of me now, letting her lips feel the hard cock that would soon be buried inside her. Teasing herself with it, before the indulgence part.

“And how does that feel , Mistress? When he is moaning and exploding while thinking of you?”

“It feels very powerful, Slave”.

She was on top of me now, impaling herself, moaning with her delight.

“It’s OK if you want to think of his cock now Mistress….I am sure you want to ride that thick cock he was handling for you, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Slave. “

And at that point all this provocative talk was lost in incoherence as Mistress eyes shut tight, her body slammed against me, and her chest heaved with the power of her climax.

But rather than rest, she kept going against me, building to one more crazy cum as her fingers toyed with my balls, as she no doubt imagines doing to M someday.

When she finally had burned her self to exhaustion on me, I helped her roll off, then took her from above, pumping now with no need to restrain my own release.

“May I come now, Mistress?”

She seemed to like the way I put that.

And I sure liked it when she responded, “Yes, my Slave.”