Lightning

It was another busy day here at our undisclosed location.

Molly and Mick went biking. (The illustration shows her well formed ass and athletic thighs, for those of you who appreciate such things.)

The teens went rafting on the River, still moving swiftly with the extra volume added by a week of afternoon thunderstorms.

Molly and Mick kept their tivas dry, and had a quiet lunch together in a charming, crumbling little adobe town. Then we visited a local winery, set in beautiful foothills, surprisingly lush from the flow of a beneficent aceqia. Soon it was time to collect our sodden but happy brood.

After dinner, we settled into bed to watch “Easy Rider”, a cultural artifact I had not seen since my college days in the very late 60’s. And of course, Mistress was barely out of kindergarten when it was first run. Legend has it that a good chunk of this ode to “freedom” was filmed in this neck of the woods. We wanted to look for that local ambience.

And sure enough, there deep in the background, in an open cocaine peddling sequence supposedly set in Mexico, was the distinctive face of the mountain parked in our back yard.

Later, buzzed to the max, Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda cavort in the Mamby Hot Springs with two hippie chickas they encounter at a real local commune called “New Buffalo”. They were splashing naked in the same springs, with it’s crumbling rock walls, where I was able to cleverly got Mistress off this past Friday.

Karma?

The film with its long musical interludes and psychedelic flash backs and forwards harkened back to the day when the toughest challenges seemed to be how to “get our shit together”, and deciding whether a guy with long hair looked more like a girl than a gorilla.


Mistress was stretched naked in our bed as we watched on my little computer screen. Outside a dramatic thunderstorm was gathering over the mountains, flashing and growling like a warm up for a long lost offensive on the Western Front.

When the movie ended, (badly for our heroes, I might add), I persuaded Mistress to bring that lush body outside to watch the real excitement.

Under our portal, wind whipped at us, moist and cool. Water was already dripping off the roof. It was pitch black, but for the flashes of that cosmic artillery that backlit the distant mountains at increasingly frequent intervals . I sill had on shorts and a T-shirt, and I pulled Mistress against me to warm her dampening skin.

A few moments ago we had been watching Hopper and Fonda tripping and stripping in a moldering New Orleans cemetery, fondling Karen Black and another woman they had procured in a New Orleans brothel.

We were under our own erotic influence though, no chemical enhancements required.

My fingers slid between Mistress’s legs, gliding with a devious purpose through slick folds, my teeth nibbling at her neck.

But Mistress was not content to just throw her head back and enjoy. She was fumbling with my belt, unfastening my shorts. Grappling and groping.

“What are you doing, Mistress?”

“Looking for my cock, Slave.”

It wasn’t too hard to find.

But Slave beat Mistress to the punch. And soon she was gasping, jerking her hips against my probing fingers, collapsing against me.

“Why don’t we go inside now Mistress?”

I guided her back across our dark porch, into the door that led to our chambers.

By now Mistress was regaining her composure, so recently compromised, and was reasserting her command.

“Go put in your device, Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

When I came back to her, my cock was showing its pavlovian response to the device filling me from behind.


She reached out to fondle it, as I stood beside the bed, waiting for my invitation to join her.

“Slave, I think I have been too easy on you lately.”

“How do you mean, Mistress?”

“You’ve been a bit uppity lately. Not as attentive as I need you to be.”

All along, her fingers were lingering on my increasingly rigid cock. She certainly knows how to create the proper atmosphere for turning the screws a bit tighter on her Slave, doesn’t she?

“I am always happiest when you assert your authority, Mistress.”

She pulled my cock a bit, indicating I should slide into bed with her, and of course I was happy to do just that.

As I suckled a ripe nipple, Mistress went on with her thoughts about a tighter regime.

“Maybe I should not give you permission to come tonight, Slave.”

“Well that’s your right….we haven’t done abstinence day in a while.”

“When we get back, I think it’s time to start abstinence day again, Slave. I like how desperate it makes you.”

And it certainly does.

But that left tonight’s activities clouded in ambiguity.

As we talked I had used my fingers to give Mistress another lovely cum, and it was the time when I might normally ask permission to fuck her. Her hands and mouth on my cock had certainly put that option front and center in my simple, slavish brain.

“Ummm….So what about tonight, Mistress. Do I have permission? Or not?”

“Well why don’t you fuck me for a while and when you get to that point, you can ask permission. That’s when I will decide your fate…”

Did I verbally moan? Not sure. But Mistress was laughing a bit at my plight.

I proceeded as she suggested. And, not wanting to give myself too much credit, I believed I fucked her hard and well.

She certainly came again in rather dramatic style (at least setting aside the power tool enhanced variety), If she had been thinking of Vanilla Mom’s recent story about a fictional M taking a fictional Molly’s virgin ass to help her get there, all the better.

(You can find that here. Very hot., ‘Nilla)http://vanillamom.wordpress.com/2010/08/02/the-mountain-pt-6/

I came to that inevitable point. I really could not have gone on much longer without exploding inside, Mistress.

“Mistress, may I come.”

So close. So very close.

“I’m not sure Slave….”


Argh…. Do I pull out or ask again? Time was short. Very short.

“Oh God, Mistress. Please may I come?”

She seemed to like the pitiful desperation she was hearing from me.

“Alright Slave. You may.”

Ahhhhh.

Quite frankly, I don’t know what would have happened if she had said no.

But I suspect it would have led to a very harsh punishment.



.

Rising to the (Perceived) Challenge

Sunday was busy here, once Mistress was released from her bonds, the Hitachi was stowed and the bright orange extension cord was spooled and parked in the corner of the bedroom for future contingencies.

First, we went on a long bike ride, down into what we call “the hole” a strange geological accident a mile or two down the road from our cabin.

. “The hole” is bordered by mountains on one side, and a mesa on the other. It seems to be  an ancient lake bed with one rocky end long since blown out, allowing the lake to drain. Now it accommodates green pastures at the banks of an arroyo still flowing strong with the lingering snow melt. 

(The photo shows Mistress looking down toward the end of the Hole, after having finished the climb out, way ahead of me, I might add.)

It’s a long (mostly) downhill roller coaster ride to the bottom, leading to  a long, challenging hill climb back out. The altitude, at  7500 feet, adds to the challenge.

I consider that climb out of the hole a pass/fail test to determine that Mick does not need an angioplasty anytime soon.  So far I have passed.

But if you go that way, it’s with one hell of a view.

After that adventure, we took the kids on a five mile hike up to a nearby alpine lake. The payoff is the 300 degree view of snow dabbled peaks at about 11, 500 feet.

While they groused a bit on the way up, all of our legs seemed to get  some new life on the way down, anticipating  a rendezvous with some strudel and fries at a scenic Inn at the foot of the trail.

By the time we got home it was Mistress and Slave’s nap  time. This time it seemed a good idea to do the nap first, BEFORE the good part.  I was plum tuckered out.

And although I offered Mistress my tongue and fingers, I made it fairly clear that I had doubts about whether her cock was prepared to enter the fray any time soon.

She seemed tired too, and demurred on my offers.

Both of us had stripped off the hiking attire and were naked in bed, cuddled together, considering whether to read a bit first, or just close our eyes.  Then the text message on Mistress’s phone jarred us.

It was M, our Western Correspondent, checking in. Mistress hopped out of bed. Read, and tapped a response.

“I told him it was nap time, Slave.”

Back into bed. Settling a bit more comfortably into one another. 

“Chime”.

Mistress hops out to read next message.

“He says “LOL….”. I guess he knows what happens at “nap time” around here.”

She tapped some more.

“I told him Slave is blowing me off, at least for now.”

Well, I must say that got a rise out of me. No Slave likes to think they have let their Mistress down.

When she got back in bed this time, I found myself nibbling on her nipples: A practice probably not conducive to shut eye.

The text chime went off again.

“Slave, I’m telling him I am signing off for now.”

When Mistress slid under the sheets, her hands slid between my legs.  She must have been amused by what she discovered.

“Hmmm….I think all that texting with M got you going, Slave.”

“I suppose I considered all that talk about me ‘blowing you off’ a bit of a challenge to your Slave’s manhood, Mistress…”

Mistress tried to walk that back a bit, and her comment to M probably was more a part of their own little sexy repartee than a slap at my serviceability. But, whatever,  it did have its effect.

Somehow my cock had bounced back from the ride, the hike and the big stein of wheat beer at the trail  head. I  was ready and able to perform with just a tad more coaxing.

‘Slave, just so it’s clear: you’ve had your switch day and it’s over now. Go put in your device, and get back here.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Well, that helped. By the time I had lubed up the aneros and slid it where it belongs, Mistress was commenting on how thick and useful my tool had become.

And she made sure to put it to good use.

After that, it really was naptime.

“

Give an Assist to the Extension Cord

Switch day snuck up on us this week.

Out here in the high desert, time moves at a different pace. The dramatic changes in the endless sky take your attention away from watches and calanders.

I usually am the one who sticks to eastern time, giving me a chance to work the blog early and check out the dramatic sunrise.

It wasn’t until Mistress called for me, the teens still sleeping, that I remembered that It was my weekly chance to turn the table on her.

And having received no specific instructions from M, I was on my own to improvise.

Fortunately, while I had forgotten Mistress’s harness, I had remembered a few other things to make her morning “special”.

After we drank some coffee and perused the papers by internet, and after Mistress read through my own “home work”, I reminded her that it was time to submit.

“But no spanking today, Mistress….don’t want your cries of anguish to wake the kids….”

“I’ll count myself lucky” she said, rolling onto her tummy, and stretching with that little wriggle of her ass that she must know drives me crazy.

She still had on the green top from the night before, the undies having been tossed somewhere now unknown during our activities of the night before.

I reached into my little goodie bag, retrieved the red cuffs and locked them to her wrists. After linking them with a handy carabiner, I tied them with some rope to an eye hook screwed into the bed for just such a naughty purpose.

Then I began the long slow tease, which she might have thought worse than a good spanking.

Lying next to her I fondled her ass, until she was responding with that wriggle again, but done to my tune.

As I leaned over her I reached for a handy nipple.

“Do you notice how some of our blogger compadras are so into nipple twisting, and breast mauling, Mistress?”, I said as I gave one a tight twisting embrace.

“Ouch…. Yes….maybe they have bigger nipples than mine, Slave….M always talks about B’s big nipples….

I kept twisting, and squeezing. Mistress was moaning and squirming a bit.

“Maybe we should have some on-line show and tell to compare? “

“That would be amusing, wouldn’t it Slave.”

After some more attention to her nipples, I gave her a little break, as I prepared the Hitachi. She had to squirm and contemplate her “fate” a bit, as I hunted for an extension cord.

(Yes, I know. I did not follow the boy scout motto. My lack of preparedness was shameful and deserves it’s own punishment).

But I was not going to let her off with a quick and dirty orgasm with the assistance of technology.

Instead I rolled her over.

Sliding on top, I teased her runny little cunt with the tip of my sufficiently hard cock.

“Maybe I’ll just skip your turn and go right to the good part, Mistress. At least for me.”

Mistress isn’t used to getting fucked without at least one warm up orgasm. But what are “switch days” for but to deviate from the usual agenda?

I slid into her.

“Hmmm….nice Slave….but what about the Hitachi. You went to all that effort to get the cord….”

She was negotiating. But she really didn’t have much bargaining power at the moment.

“If you’re a good little Slave, you might get your reward….”

I did it slow and steady, building us both up to the edge. But the Slave in me just couldn’t carry out my initial plan.

Instead, I slid out of her just as slowly as I had entered, then straddling her, I offered her my cock,, richly marinated in her juices.

“Take a taste of what I am addicted to, Mistress.”

Naturally, she complied, taking me into her mouth and licking it clean.

“Very tasty, Slave”, she muttered around a full mouth.

How could I not reward her for such good behavior?

I rolled her over onto her bottom, and switched on the tool laid next to the bed, attached to a long orange extension cord.

Unsightly yes, but very, very effective. .

Watching her hump against the churning white bulb is always amusing, and it seems to take her longer to build herself to her reward this way than the full frontal approach.

And I was in no hurray.

Soon Mistress’s powerful thighs were clenching for dear life. Her ass was rising that falling onto the device. Her arms were straining against her restraints. She was close…very close.

“I want you to ask permission, Mistress….”

And she was ready to ask.

“May I come, Slave?”

“That doesn’t sound desperate enough….”

She moaned, rising up on her forearms, her torso grinding hard against the bed and the devious tool buried between her thighs. Give her credit: she was trying to hold off the inevitable, but time was not on her side.

“Oh God, I need to come, Slave.”

Now I am hearing it: her desperation was so very sweet.

“I want you to think how you would beg M to let you come. Imagine him doing this, what would his little slut tell him?”

“Please, please may I come Master.”

It was spoken with such deep, earthy need that I could not say “no”.

“Yes, Slave, come for me now.”

And she did, arching her back, up on her elbows, thighs clinging to the tool for dear life, sobbing out into a pillow, still mindful that there were teens about outside our room.

When the shaking stopped, I gently rolled her over, ready to take my pleasure from her, but giving her plenty of time to come back to earth.

“That was…very intense…Slave.”

I licked some of the tears off her blotchy face.

“Yes, Mistress. I could tell. Always happy when I can get you there….”

As I slid into her again, we proceeded at a gentler pace.

But soon it was my turn to ask permission.

Even on Switch Day, I am too well trained to do it any other way.

"Keep it Hard for me Slave."

 "Hmmm. What have we here."

Mistress raised her eyebrows. Poked with a curious finger through my boringly white briefs.

She had just discovered that my cock was firmer than one might expect after a long day of bike rides, entertaining the kids, and then  pizza  at a local joint, known for its east coast cuisine and big western views.

I thought I was tired. And full. It was not long ago that I was thinking about how to say “can this wait until morning”. 

I know: Bad slave.

But somehow our conversation had gotten those blood vessels doing what they do when the imagination is provoked.

It started with Mistress sharing tid bits of a story that M had sent her. A fantasy in which  she flew to Las Vegas to meet him. Was told to strip and wait in his room, watching porn. She was to toy with her parts, but no, absolutely no, coming.

At some point M would pay a fetching bellman to come to her room, and tie her to the bed. Tightly spreadeagled. Then Mistress would have to suffer quietly in her bonds, all desperate and frustrated, until M made his grand entrance.

No doubt some serious fucking would ensue. 

My reaction?

“Hmmm. That’s a good one Mistress….why don’t you ask M for permission to post it tomorrow….nice to know I have material to work with, and it’s been a while since our Western Correspondent earned his generous retainer and expense check.”

(Right).

Mistress got M’s consent (he must have been on-line), but then had a little trouble forwarding his tale.

“It’s kind of embarrassing , Slave….Below his email to me is some thing I sent him…..a little fantasy, but I feel funny about you seeing it…”

“Hmmm….You know I don’t mind Mistress. It’s hard for me to think that you’ve said things to him that I have not already imagined….After all….you do have the right, and my permission to fuck M and anyone else who catches your eye…..”

“still….you’re my husband and, I am kind of embarassed….You’ve talked about giving us a privacy zone …it just feels weird”

We talked a bit about the subject.

I do think, and have told Mistress,  that any relationship needs a zone of privacy to prosper and grow.  A place for those mushy words, exchanged fantasies, honest confessions of ….whatever.  And while Mistress had shared the power point highlights of her developing relationship with M, I have never insisted on all the details. (Not that I have a right to them, mind you).

What I do know about their interactions is more than hot enough to add a good deal of spice to our own sexual endeavors, as you devoted readers know. And there have been those moments when Slave has been invited to participate in their action.

So if Mistress wants to share her dark and sexy fantasies with M, and feels she should keep them a private matter, that is between the two of them. (though I am sure some of our readers would enjoy reading   a sanitized version of them now and again).

And the fact that all that talk about the parameters of the Mistress/M privacy zone led to my stiffening cock seemed to be an endorsement of our approach.

So where were we?

“Keep it hard for me as I get ready for bed, Slave.”

So there I was, book in one hand, my other hand filled with my stiffening cock, as Mistress did her nighttime rituals and donned  a sexy  combo of soft green top and panties  I had given her some Chrsitmas past..

Every now and then she glanced over her shoulder to make sure I was following orders.

“It should be harder, Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Then she was asking me for the location of the riding crop.

Yikes. Suddenly my cock was even harder. What a pavlovian doofus I’ve become.

When she was finally ready for me, crop in hand, she inspected my work.

“Nice, Slave. Very nice.” 

The tip of the crop caressed the length of me, inducing a twitch of longing.  But first things first.

“Roll over, Slave….”

I followed her direction, willingly presenting my ass to her, like a lamb walking to slaughter.

“”This is for forgetting to pack my harness, Slave.”

Mistress was annoyed that she would not be able to fuck me in the ass on this trip, because I failed to pack her equipment.

Definitely punishment worthy behavior.

Thwack, Thwack.

Man, that stung.  In quick succession, my ass got 8 or 9 sharp blows.

I  was squirming and bouncing off the bed. But I stifled my verbal feed back, to shelter the teens who were on the other side of our closed door, playing Monopoly.

“And these are for that thing that I don’t even want to talk about.”

Yes, Mick’s big screw up of two years ago. It’s better for her to punish me for it than keep it bottled up.

Three more sharp blows landed on my ass.

Painful, but it was glad to get that out of our systems..

Then she prodded me at my side.

“Rollover now, Slave. I want to see my cock.”

There it was for her, harder than ever.

She tossed the crop aside, and sat next to me on the bed, her hands softly caressing my balls and shaft.

And though my ass was still stinging,  the attention she was giving me made that sting fade quickly to deep background.

And soon I was squirming for a different reason.

“Would you like me to fuck you now, Mistress?”

But I suspect it sounded more like a plea than a question.

“You’re so impatient, Slave.”

The torment continued, with her soft lips added to the mix.

She does like to tease. But within a minute or two she must have grown tired of my pitiful desperation.

She slid off those sheer green panties, all the while eyeing my cock.

“I’m going to ride it now, Slave.”

And she did.