Holloween With the Blog-Tourage?

 

In her Sunday post, Sin cheekily proposed a Halloween get together for her little circle of kinky bloggers and their significant others in perviness. And the thought of putting faces and body parts to cyber-noms is certainly intriguing.

Maybe we could even get our Western Correspondent and his mysterious wife B to tag along. And bring their collection of paddles.

But what got me flashing back was Sin’s proposal that Tennessee would be a good mid-way point for such a meet up. It so happens that a lovely B & B in the Smokies was the scene of  Mick and Molly’s first extended Bondage caper, way back in the summer of 1988.

Let me set the stage.

It was just a few months since Molly had called Mick’s bluff.

“You’ve been flirting with me for months. Are you ever going to do something about it?” was the thrust of her message to me.

We were both married to other folks. Nice folks, actually. But we were thrown together by the vagaries of politics. And once thrown together, we just …. Stuck.

And yes, folks, it was Mike Dukakis’s Presidential campaign that brought us together. ( I can hear you laughing!)

When was the last time you thought of Mike Dukakis in the context of hot, illicit, I know I shouldn’t even think about this but can’t help myself, sex?

Molly had just turned 26. Which seems even worse now, since I have two older daughters.

I was a mature, full head of haired 38. I still feel like a cradle robber. Though it still feels SOOOO good.

Somehow we were allowed by spouses to go solo to the Democratic Convention that summer in Atlanta. And, well, over that week we seemed to spend the bulk of our time in bed.

I just remember lots of rumpled, damp sheets, very little sleep, Jesse Jackson ranting endlessly about rainbows, shaking JFK, Jr. ‘s hand, and Neil Diamond singing that song about “Coming to America” as the (lets say it all together now) “proud son of Greek Immigrants” took the stage.

But on the way back, somehow, we arranged two nights in this lovely Inn in the Smokies called the Buckhorn Lodge. ( Thank God those were the days without cell phones or GPS devices, allowing us to make our selves very, very scarce.)

Anyway, we were able to rent this house buried in the forest. And Mick had brought his little bag of tricks along, filled with various lengths of rope.

Those were the days before we discovered the wisdom of putting Molly in charge. So she found herself bound to our bed that first night, at my mercy, and more than well fucked before the sun came up.

And I recall our hike, when, even deeper in the woods, I pulled her off the trial, bound her to a tree, and used a whippy tree branch as a switch to illustrate her bottom with a lovely rosy pattern, before using fingers and mouth to force an orgasm or two from her.

What a shame there were no digital cameras in the ‘80’s. Those would have been shots I would not want have taken to the local drug store for processing.

So if Sin and her Dom ever need a convenient place to come together, and to invite the rest of us along for the show, here is a link to the scene of those crimes.

http://www.buckhorninn.com/cottages.htm

Fortunately, the statute of limitations has expired for us.

Sexual Jujitsu

Mistress slept in a bit late yesterday morning. And who was I to wake her early? She needed to catch up on her beauty sleep, and I had kept her a up a bit later than normal on Saturday night, watching my alma mater take a devastating OT loss in a college football game.

So by the time I came upstairs to her – around 9 am – we had only a brief window of opportunity to exercise my switch privileges. And since Surly teen #2 was already up, stalking around the house, I has to keep it on the QT.

Mistress was a little resistant too. Although maybe it’s only natural to suggest that I not cuff her wrists together while she is trying to read the blog on her laptop. Apparently opposable thumbs are not enough for that little stunt.

But soon the laptop was put aside, and Mistress wrists were cuffed overhead. She was rolled onto her tummy, but I left on the pretty rose and black undies that went with her top. I figured that those of you who just come here to browse the pictures of Mistress’s tight and foxy ass might enjoy.

Yes, Mistress got her spanking, which M was curious about later in the morning. (“She deserves it”, he commented to me later in an email). And I probably enjoyed taking out a little of my anger about that trick play at the end of the game on her, making her cheeks match the rose in those undies.

And after my tricks, Mistress got her treat. The Hitachi was deployed, as I slid it between her legs, then under her, letting her quickly find the full measure of satisfaction she craved by now.

I wish I could capture in words the sight of Mistress’s ass as she humps that thing, her unbound legs flayling, thighs squeezing as she has a nice juicy orgasm. And then I continued to press it against her, even after she went limp. Soon she was squiring all over again, as I drew one more explosion from her before succumbing to her pitiful entreaties to “stop, Slave….I’m just too sensitive now.”

I do wonder what would happen if I tuned those pleas out some morning?  Any ideas, Sub-sisters?

After a suitable time  for her to recover, I rolled her over. I fed her my cock for a few moments, astride her chest.

“You do that very well, Mistress. I think M would really enjoy doing this to you, don’t you?”

It was hard to hear her response. Talking with your mouth full is really not too effective.

Then I took my pleasure from her. Though I do remember that as I fucked her, she was already re-asserting her authority.

“You went pretty easy on me today, Slave….you didn’t even make me beg.”

“I guess you’re right…..but we are on a pretty tight schedule….”

We needed to get in a bike ride before She went to a wedding shower, and I took the teens to the football game – our local pussy cats’ season opener.

“I was wondering if it had to do with the ass fucking you got yesterday ….that seems to have a lingering effect sometime in bringing out your sub side.”

“I suppose it does Mistress….”

“When we talked last night during your game, M said I needed to make you buy me a bigger dildo for the strap on. Don’t you think you can handle something bigger by now?”

“Hmmm….. I think he may be right, Mistress.”

“Of course he is.”

Around this time I was begging for her to come. Don’t you think it’s interesting how, even with her hands still cuffed, taking my cock hard and deep, Mistress can reverse that switch?  

Sexual Jujitsu….impressive.

Experiment (Or Don't Try this at Home KIds).

Mistress took M’s advice on Saturday morning. (Well I like to think of it as “Advice”). Before I went off on grandfatherly errands Saturday morning, I was told to wear my cage. Mistress seemed to take some satisfaction in snapping the little lock shut and palming the key.

As I walked about our local farmers’ market, then took my 3 year old grandson swimming at our friends’ pool, I knew that I was under Mistress’s close but benevolent control. And hopefully she felt secure in that knowledge.

At home in mid-afternoon, Mistress was in no hurray to unlock me. We sat out on our deck soaking in rays and reading. And then, out of no where, came a provocative little note from our favorite Erotic Arsonist, ‘Nilla. She was doing some research for a story and I was a potential source. Here is an excerpt:






“Mick, this is technical stuff for a story I’m writing … and I want it to be accurate.

Would you mind being my source of first hand info since 1). I don't have a penis, and 2). I think google may not be able to answer this.

Know as I write you about these painful things, my ass is multiple shades of red and purple, and I've likely had 2000 orgasms and am walking funny....that old "misery loves company” Schtick.

Okay. so.

What would happen if Molly fucked you in the ass *while* you were wearing your cock cage? Would it border on too cruel? Would it keep you from cumming? Would the pain be tolerable, excruciating, or completely unbearable.

What would you do if mistress ordered you to do something you are opposed to. I am trying to not give away where I'm going here, but...it's something I think you would be opposed to.
Would you comply?
Would you talk about it first?
Or would you simply submit because it works for you both?”


I read the email, then handed my little Blackberry to Mistress. She was very amused. And inspired.

“Well, well, Slave…..here we are. It’s Saturday afternoon … when I like to fuck your ass. And there you are, still in my cage… Maybe we can do a little research for ‘Nilla.”

Gulp.

“Oh dear.”

We read our books a bit longer. I tried to ignore the suddenly tighter confines under my shorts. Ultimately, as the sun snuck behind our house, Mistress “suggested” we go upstairs. And her Slave dutifully complied.

“Why don’t you get out my supplies, Slave.”

I found her harness, and the plastic dildo that goes with it.

Mistress suited up, adjusting her belt to allow for a snug fit.

“Do you think this will be painful, Slave?”

“Not if I use my mental faculties to keep things in control….”

In other words, I had to consider this an act of complete submission to Mistress’s desires. Her act of taking me with her strap-on would be for her pleasure alone. Otherwise I could have a very squashed cock.

As we lay next to each other, kissing, fondling, the focus was on Mistress’s stimulation. Obviously, she could not access my cock with her fingers or mouth. And I was lucky she did not try to caress my well exposed balls. Mistress was not trying to drive me insane, which I appreciated.

But despite my best mental efforts, those balls were swelling. And when they do? Oh, Lordy. That tight metal ring that surrounds them starts to feel like a vice. That’s when I use my brain to try to back off a bit. It’s a good time to consider when and if the Fed will start raising interest rates? Any thoughts?

“I think it’s time, Slave. Why don’t you get in position.”

I rolled onto my tummy, sliding a pillow under my hips. I was certainly conscious of the tight constriction around my balls and cock. But was it painful? Not so bad.

And as Mistress slid into be, my focus was on the intense feeling of possession as she filled and pumped in and out of me, and the patterns of her breathing as Mistress approached her own orgasm. Time moved very slowly. I was afraid of the potential pain. But …. surprise, surprise … it never came.

Contrast: without the cage on, my focus would have been more on the lovely friction of my rigid cock against that pillow. Self absorbed. And missing the best parts.

So instead, I rose up to meet Mistress, wiggling my ass a bit to keep the cage from grinding too hard against the bed. I was gratified when she had a crashingly good convulsion of pleasure as she pumped into me, moaning and shivering with delight in a way that is unique to this particular exercise.

“That was a good one, Slave….”

After she was sated, she extracted herself, tossed off the harness, and directed me to roll over. She wanted to inspect what she had wrought.

As we both peered at my caged cock it was pretty amusing. Swollen balls hanging below that tight steel ring. The cage itself was filled to the brim with cock flesh. Not a centimeter to spare in length or width in its tiny chamber.

If he had a voice it would be saying, “Hey, It’s getting crowded in here”.

I guess we should have taken a photo. But Mistress is not a sadist. She found the key, and helped me pry off my lid.

Yowser.

The little guy popped out like those little novelty toys with a “snake” in a can that my daughters used to play with.

Mistress laughed at it’s apparent enjoyment of new found freedom.

“Cute, Slave….now go put in your device. I want you to fuck me with that thing.”

She poked it with her fingers, just to see it bounce around. And I bounced out of bed to follow her directions.

Once my aneros was inserted where her faux cock had been only moments earlier, I came back to bed.

But Mistress was required to play with her little toy some more. There was some apparent reluctance for it to take on it’s normal “fuck mistress real good” dimensions. It was plenty thick, but not as long as normal, as if it had been molded by the cage. There must have been some pervy muscle memory telling it to stay within it’s accustomed confines or pay an ugly price.

But with a little more attention, my cock decided it was safe to get back in the water. And did so with the usual devastating effect. (A little bravado there, but heck, it had been a perilous journey.)

After Mistress gave me permission to come, the resulting pyrotechnics were…. shall we say, amazing. Apparently the combination of the ass fucking, and the forced sublimination of my desires to stay safely within that cage, made my ultimate release all the sweeter. I was tingling down there for the rest of the night.

So….’Nilla, summing up:

1) Not borderline cruel.
2) No way I could come with the cage on. Ain’t ever gonna happen. Nipped in the bid, so to speak. And of course that is the purpose of the cage, isn’t it?
3) At least on this occasion, the pain was quite bearable. Now …. Mistress could have made it much worse, by teasing and torturing my balls if she had chosen to do that. Or by making me stay in the cage longer before the ass fucking part. That would have made it much harder to use my brain to tamp things down.

That’s not to say that someone else might have a different experience. Us old guys probably have more self-control.

Now, as for your second question: Would I unfailingly follow Mistress’s command?

I guess I am looking at this too lawerly, but this sounds like a scenario from “Judgment at Nuremburg”. Here’s how I break it down:

• I would not do something that would hurt someone else, or Mistress.
• I probably would be too chicken to do something that I know would cause me unbearable pain, or the loss of a limb.
• I would not commit a felony. Misdemeanor, maybe.
• If it seemed like a bad idea to me, i.e., too risky to reputation or excruciatingly humiliating, I might try to get her to consider other options. This is the wheedling stage. (as in, “Slave, go ahead and send ‘Nilla that picture of your cock in a cage”.) We know how that can come out.
• Otherwise, I would salute and say, “Yes, Mistress.” (Other than on Switch Day).

Of course, I have a lot of confidence that Mistress would never put me in a situation where following her command would create some existential crisis. A little discomfort or humiliation, maybe. But isn’t that what a Slave deserves on occasion?

Hope this answers your questions. And thanks for helping me find a good topic for this morning’s homework assignment.

Petulant Sex

It’s Saturday morning, and I could just cut to the chase: Yes, we had sex three times yesterday: morning, après-work, and before bed time. Yes, Mistress had a few stray orgasms in between. And it seems that M got off too. ‘Nuff said?

But I suspect you want more of the sordid details.

That morning sex has faded into the background by now.

Mistress read the blog. I worshipped. And then I was more than happy to take my pleasure from her after my St. Pat’s Day Equinox celebration pulled me up short the evening before. 24 hours is a long time to go in the Collins Household.

As our Friday workday ended, I waited for Mistress to walk over to my building for our drive home. As she strode into my lobby, all hot and provocative in that black mid-thigh dress, she had her cell phone to her ear. That big, flirtatious smile (yes, that seems to happen even when her lover/master is so many miles away) was the “tell” that Mistress was on the phone with M.

Once they had signed off, Mistress shared a little detail of her day:

“M and I talked this morning for a while, Slave. And he was home alone so …. You know….”

“You got to talk him through getting off, Mistress?”

“Yeah….”

“How does that work …. You’re in your office ….”

“Right….”

But Mistress’s office has glass windows facing out, so no personal hanky panky there.

“Didn’t you want to touch yourself, Mistress?”

“I suppose so….”

“And could you at least squeeze those thighs … cross the legs?”

“I guess I did, Slave.”

“It turns you on when he comes, doesn’t it Mistress?”

“Of course, Slave.”

I imagined B’s moans of ecstasy as he deploys that high priced lube to full advantage, listening to Mistress’s admonitions, and expressions of…..whatever.

“So what do you tell him to drive him crazy at those moments, Mistress …. You must have some magic words that help him achieve his goal.”

“Hmmmm…..that’s kind of private, Slave.”

I understood. And did not feel right to pry further. They are entitled to that little private zone to allow their relationship to flourish.

On the rest of the ride we got distracted by re-hashing some unpleasant developments during the day. They aren’t worth elaborating on, but they had the unfortunate effect of unearthing some bad karma, and the latent insecurity that pops up from time to time for Mistress.

Of course, me being her Slave, signing the Contract, yadda, yadda, all is supposed to make her feel more secure in our relationship. I have turned over the short leash to her for a purpose. But sometimes, even that’s not enough.

So when we got home, things were a little …..tense.

Mistress even had to remind me that I should offer to worship her before our long bike ride.

Bad Slave.

But soon I was on my knees and gave Mistress the orgasm she probably had been waiting for ever since she had to “suffer” through M’s mighty blast that morning without her own relief.

After our bike ride, the plan was to have sex, then a little picnic while watching some mind numbing movie on netflix.

I opted for a shower, and when I got out, all clean and nakey, Mistress was lying on bed, laptop open, still fully dressed in those damp riding shorts and shirt.

Hmmmm. Still pissed at me?

Now there were two ways this could go. I could get my back up, and we could descend into a grumpy evening.

Or I could suck it up and show my devotion.

Thankfully, I opted for the later (or, as I am sure you guessed, the box score above would read quite differently).

My approach was not subtle.

Mistress lay there, stoic, doing her best to ignore me. I lay next to her, naked. My hand slipped under the waistband of her tight, sweaty riding shorts. My fingers did what they are trained to do.

It took a while to break Mistress’s mental reservations, but soon, inevitably Mistress was squirming, shaking, coming for me.

“Would you like to take your cloths off now, Mistress?”

She muttered consent, and slid out of her shorts, top and sports bra. Then she lay back on the bed.

Ahhh. I saw where this was going. Mistress was not going to lower herself to any cock touching on this occasion. If Slave wanted to fuck her, he would have to get “up” on his own. And there is the “no touching” rule to consider.

So I cuddled, slid my hands between her now naked legs, and conjured the images that made my cock hard on its own. Mind over Petulance.

Then, after my fingers got her off again, I fucked her. Hard. Long. With great satisfaction.

This seemed to melt the ice a bit, and we dressed and had that picnic.

The movie we selected was “40 Days and 40 Nights” which sought to cast some self-absorbed Gen-Y-er as a sort of contemporary Jesus, simply because he chose to give up sex in San Francisco for Lent. The Horror. But we were just getting to the “good” part, (the temptations ), when Mistress’s phone buzzed.

“It’s M, Slave. He wants to know if we can talk. But I kind of feel bad interrupting our evening….”

My thought was this: I had helped put Mistress in a funk. It would only be right for me to step aside for a while and let M help her get out of it. Plus I knew that Mistress was probably in the mood to vent a bit, and M could provide some helpful therapy, with or without the Hitachi.

“It’s OK, Mistress. He does have that All Access Pass this weekend, what with B out of town. Go for it.”

Mistress clearly thought I had made the right decision (not that it was my decision to make), quickly excusing herself to our Bed Chambers.

I caught up on Stephen Colbert, read the paper, and was starting to drift off, when Mistress came down, that glazed but satisfied look in her eye.

“Why don’t we got to Bed, Slave.”

I guess we would save Jesus’s temptations by all those modern day Mary Magdellon’s in search of a straight guy in SF for later.

As we got ready for bed, I asked Mistress how things had gone.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Two, Slave….just two.”

“Not bad….Mistress.”

“But we did spend some time talking about you. M says I need to exercise a firmer hand when you get testy with me. He says you will respond better if I keep that leash very short.”

I was non-committal. Maybe I was a little petulant myself. It had been a long day.

“That’s always your option, Mistress.”

“He also says I need to use that cage more….so tomorrow, when you go out, you are wearing the cage….”

“Of course, Mistress.”



We slipped into bed. I assumed I had had my quota for the day, and quite frankly, was pretty sleepy. So as Mistress read a bit, I slid up against her (naked of course), closing my eyes.

But something was eating at both of us.

I tried to nod off. So did Mistress, shutting out the light.

But somehow, a few minutes later, she was rolling over on top of me, her pelvis doing that little un-subtle grind against my thigh.

And despite my fatigue, I could feel a response. The tell-tale twitch that starts at the base of my balls. I knew where this was headed, but was unsure exactly how we would get there.

“Are you trying to have sex with me Mistress?”

“It seems that way….. but I am thinking you need to be spanked first.”

Twitch.


Damn.

I said nothing.

“Do you want me to spank you, Slave?”

“Up to you Mistress….”

That seemed to close the deal.

“Well you deserve a spanking, just for that passive aggressive answer, Slave.”

And so Mistress was up, in search of the riding crop, then laying into me. Reminding me that I needed to govern my uppitiness and be sensitive to her latent insecurity. I got some rather painful blows during that lecture. She had me squirming and whining into my pillow.

Ouch.

But then it was over.

“Roll over, Slave.”

I did, exposing a rock hard cock in the process.

“Hmmm…..what have we here.”

She poked it with the tip of the crop, having a bit of fun at my expense. And then it was her hands and soft hot mouth on it, making me beg.

“Wouldn’t you like to ride it Mistress.”

“At some point, Slave….”

More begging ensured, until her own desires seemed to take over.

Soon Mistress was mounting me. I squeezed those full, firm nipples as she ground against me, sliding up and down with surprising vigor after a long day and all those orgasms. Soon that slow deep moan built up inside her and carried her over the edge. Then she rolled off to let me finish the job on top. She generously gave her consent when I begged, “Mistress may I come.”

Afterwards, I asked the obvious question:

“So what started that Mistress?”

“I guess after those sessions with M, I always need my cock.”

I was glad to fill that need.