Mistress on the (Fantasy) Block

Mistress kept her word about my day in the cage yesterday.

I didn’t have the heart to fuck her again in the morning while she was on orgasm denial, so I settled for some gentle tongue worship as she read the blog. Then, after showering, I presented myself to her, and she closed the lock with that little, wicked smile.

“Does that make you feel more secure, Mistress?”

“Absolutely, Slave. You’re going to have to think about what I will be up to this morning with your cock all locked away.”

I suppose the payback was only fair after all that torment she was required to endure the night before.

So at work I tried to focus on my mundane tasks – and getting ready for a lecture I am giving later today. But in the back of my mind I was imagining Mistress spread on our bed, her various toys at hand, awaiting her Master’s call. It had been two weeks or so since their last solo opportunity for some sex chat, and I knew there was some considerable pent up demand to be satisfied.

When Mistress finally called me, on her way to work around 10:30 am, she seemed a bit discombobulated.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Gee…. I think I lost track Slave…”

It sounded like Mistress was still deep in her post orgasmic buzz. No doubt some of her colleagues would be amused as she staggered about the office with that distracted, over-fucked look on her face.

When I got home there was a an opportunity for me to worship, Mistress, pulling aside those lacy yellow undies to invade her well used parts with my tongue and lips.

And as the evening progressed – a bike ride, dinner, watching the latest episode of Mad Men, I debriefed her on her little morning of wanton delight. For purposes of brevity, I’ve compacted down snippets of our running conversation through the evening, which ended as I took her after my own day of caged denial.

“So what story did he tell you this time Mistress?”

(Our Western Correspondent may not be a particularly productive wordsmith, but he is a specialist in his own unique brand of oral traditon. Before he leaves us, it might make sense for some doctoral student writing a dissertation on BDSM anthropology to spend a few months interviewing M at his mountain retreat, getting all these stories down on tape, so they are not lost to future generations of kinksters. I suspect M would agree to share his wealth of stories, so long as she was naked and fully available to him through the lengthy interview process.)

“Oh there was a very elaborate story, Slave…. He likes to throw in lots of detail….”

“And what was this one about?”

“You were in it too …. You took me to one of Aisha’s play parties…..and – surprise – M was there too.”

“And what happened at the play party?”

“There was an auction … you put me on the block …. I was naked, except for a collar….”

“Oh, and who were the bidders, Mistress?”

I had an idea where this was going. And I wondered if Aisha was up for bids too.

“There were several, Slave…. “

“But I suspect I know who got the prize….”

Mistress laughed in her deep, sexy way.

“Yeah…. I didn’t know he was there….but I recognized his voice when he was bidding …..”

“How much did he have to pay, Mistress?”

“Hmmm….. I don’t remember him the dollar amount.”

“I’m sure it was a pretty penny. So what happened to me once I cruelly put you up for bids?”

“I don’t remember you coming up again….”

“That’s fair…. Though I might have enjoyed watching you squirm as they bid up the price…. How did that feel as they bid for you Mistress?”

“Well …. Humiliated, Salve…”

“But a turn on too, I’d bet…. All those men…. Wanting you. Putting their money where their cocks are, so to speak?”

“I must say it had an appeal….”

“And once he claimed you, what did he do with his prize.”

“There was an inspection, Slave … not just him …. He let all the men inspect me.”

I imagined Mistress, M holding her leash, squirming in her wanton way as she was forced to undergo such vile treatment, as their fingers pinched and probed.

‘Nilla could have a field day with this one.

“And then, Mistress?”

“Well there was some cock sucking…. He made me suck several men’s cocks.”

“How was that Mistress?”

“Kind of hot slave…. So many penises. I lost track.”

“Did he finally take you away from all those men?”

“Yes, Slave. To some fancy hotel suite.”

“Was there spanking?”

“Not so much….but lots of fucking….lots of it.”

No wonder Mistress lost track of her orgasm count. I imagined her being led through this tale of debauchery … her trusty Hitachi in hand.

And did M have the opportunity to share in the ecstacy, Mistress?

“Oh yes…. It’s pretty dramatic when he comes, Slave. I think he had been saving it for a bit.”

“Was M surprised by all your orgasms, Mistress….he can pull a lot from you, can’t he?”

“He’s humble Slave … he gives the Hitachi most of the credit … he says it’s a ‘powerful tool’.

No doubt.

And. at about this time in the tale, after making sure Mistress had her fair share of additional orgasms, Slave was begging for permission. With the “all clear” granted I had my own very powerful explosion after my long day in the cage.

Then we both collapsed….it had been a busy day for both of us.

I was going to share with you a few emails that M and I exchanged about how we might keep Mistress content in the days to come, but I better prep some for that lecture I have to give this afternoon. So look for those tomorrow.





“

Mistress on Quarantine

Suddenly we are into fall here in River City. Mistress finally broke out the black tights – one of fall’s perks for this Slave, who has a bit of a fetish for her in hose of any type.

So there she was in my office, after we shared some lunch with colleagues, her black tights off  one leg, still draped around the other.  I fell to my knees for a little worship, in lieu of a more calorie laden desert.

As I went about my task, Mistress mentioned her chat with M that morning, and the  selection he had made for her. 

In advance of their date, he had asked Mistress on Sunday evening to send him a photo of any faux cocks available, so he could select one for insertion in her tight, virginal ass during the date they have planned for this morning.

Here is the photo.  

His options are  our crystal cock, the little white aneros that I am  required to use when Mistress wants a particularly hard cock, and the beige dildo that gets used with Mistress’s strap-on.

“He picked the white one, Slave….”

As I sucked Mistress’s rosy clit between my lips, I had the image of her writhing on the bed, her ass filled with that little beast, begging for the right to come with the help of her trusty Hitachi. 

Argh.

“And he says that I am to be restricted … we can fuck tonight, but no orgasms for me in the morning before our date.”

“He’s going easy on you, Mistress.”

“I know…. But he says he doesn’t want to interfere with your husbandly rights, Slave.”

At about this time, Mistress was arching out of her chair as I brought her over the edge, with one of her luscious thighs bending over and around my neck, pressing my face even deeper into her smooth and juicy folds.

After Mistress was back to work, I sent an email to M, making sure he knew what his little slut had been up to during her lunch break:

“Mistress stopped by for some worship. But I felt maybe I should have denied her the orgasm, since you have a date in the am.  You are pretty indulgent....but she seems happy, so who can complain.  Mick”

Later in the afternoon I heard back from M:

|

“

Yes, I probably am too easy on her but I don't want to mess up my managing editor’s fun either. How’s that for sucking up by the humble WC?

Take care, M”

I responded as follows:

---

“don't worry about me, M... I enjoy seeing her squirm.”

And later I heard back:

“Ok, then next time I'll be stricter with the rules... would be my pleasure.”

Later, at home, Mistress commented on my brief if devious conversation with her Master.

“I saw those emails Slave….what are you two up to?”

“We have your best interests at heart, Mistress.”

“Oh yeah, according to M, you ‘threw me under the bus.”

We were  taking the teens to see “The Social Network” during the dinner hour, but beforehand I offered to worship. But – unwisely as it turns out – Mistress demurred until our return home.

But when she got home, Mistress was surprised to see an email form our Western Correspondent, waiting for her on the I-phone she had left behind.

“Damn…. The rules have changed, Slave. Now he says no orgasms tonight. But I am supposed to let you tease me and then tell him tomorrow what happened. He says it will make for a good blog.”

Mistress came to bed in her black tights. She knew I would enjoy their smooth texture as my hardening cock pressed against it.

And she did have to endure a long, slow tease. I had her gasping, her breathing ragged, as my thigh pressed between her legs, and my mouth grazed on her firm succulent nipples.

And when I peeled those tights off, and plunged into her, she moaned with delight.

It’s odd fucking her when she’s not allowed to come. My hard wiring operates on the “please her first” principle. So I am at a bit of a loss when the fucking is for my personal satisfaction, and Mistress’s frustration.

But after a while of that “anguish”, probably taking longer than was decent under the circumstances, I was able to focus sufficiently to explode with a mighty cry of ecstasy of my own, spurting in waves as Mistress “bucked up” beneath me.  

But with her permission, of course.

As I lay pressed against her, Mistress talked about her “ordeal”.

“That was hard, Slave…. It took a lot of discipline not to come….”

“Well it shows the level of your devotion, Mistress …. Doesn’t it make you feel like a good Slave to him.”

I thought about the times when I was on abstinence. I was required to fuck her for her pleasure, withdrawing before I was past the point of no return. It IS hard.  Very. But it also made me remember the reward at the end of that dark tunnel of denial.

“Just think how nice it will be when he gives you permission to come tomorrow morning, Mistress.”

No doubt, Slave.  And by the way - You are SO in that cage tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

And the steel ring is already tightly looped around my cock and balls.

 I will tease her a bit with my tongue this morning, as she reads the blog, then head to work, all locked up, to contemplate what she and M will be up to this morning.

It could be a long day.

Mistress Begs, But Does Not Surrender.

Mistress was in a fix: bound, spread eagled, on her back on our bed yesterday morning.

You can see her in the photo.

Leather cuffs bound her wrists.

Strips of an old beach towel bound ankles to the corners of our bed.

I made her rise to accommodate a fluffy, full pillow under her hips, presenting the apex of her widely spread thighs for my “experiments”.

It was Switch Day.

There would be no stinging, flat handed spanks to her firm bottom today. No crisp red stripes from the riding crop.

Instead I was determined to test her will in another way.

My tongue and lips tormented her.

I fed her my cock, until it was throbbing, lubricated by her tongue, so it was literally sucked into her sopping, greedy tunnel. Then she received a slow, languorous fucking.

“No coming Mistress. You’re going to have to beg for it this morning.”

I pumped at her for 10 minutes or so, slowly sliding to and fro against her squirming pelvis. Her breathing was reduced to shallow sighs of quiet desperation, but she wasn’t begging. Not yet. Both of us were pacing ourselves.

Ultimately I slid from her, afraid that I might lose my own control. I wasn’t going to be the one to ask permission first.

“Where are you going, Slave.”

“I think you know what’s next, Mistress.”

I reached for the Hitachi, always at the ready under our bed.

I used it to create some false expectations of an easy return on her investment of surrendered authority on switch day. She was near the edge. But no begging.

I turned it off.

“Hey….. I was getting close, Slave….”

That was just a prequel, Mistress. I need another toy for the main act.

I reached to the table next to the bed, and slid the crystal cock from it’s elegant little box. She watched my moves with interest, while pulling at her wrists, testing her bonds.

“Oh… we haven’t used that in a while, Slave.”

Within seconds, Her cunt greedily devoured the hard, glass cock with it’s swirling ridges.

My face hovered over her there, focusing all my attention on the folds and valleys that presented themselves. A little rosy and wet playground.

Then I switched the Hitachi to low, applying it exactly where Mistress likes it. It sent a quiver through her. I heard that moan of delight. It was what she had been waiting for.

It didn’t take her more than 30 seconds….the horny, little slut.

“So can I come now, Slave?”

I laughed.

“That doesn’t sound like begging, does it?”

She fidgeted. Gave off a little frustrated mewl of anguish.

I pressed the Hitachi more firmly against her. I could almost feel her try to withdraw a bit… not sure where this was headed. But of course, she had nowhere to go, stretched so “cruelly” tight by her bonds.

“OK… Please, may I come, Slave.”

“Am I really the Slave under these circumstances, or something else?”

She was grinding herself side to side against the churning white bulb of the power tool. My other hand pressed the crystal cock even deeper into her. I had a wonderful view, my face hovering inches above ground zero of her frustrated desire.

“Oh God…. I really need to come….. what do you want me to call you.”

“What titles best fit these circumstances, slut?”

“Sir… Master…. Whatever…. Just, please, please let me come.”

“Either one will do, but I need to hear those words presented properly and with sincerety….”

She was moaning. Her hips were struggling for control. Muscles in her legs flexing against the cotton cloth that bound them. Did I actually hear her grit her teeth?

“Please, Sit, May I come?”

“How badly do you want to come, little slut?”

“Very badly, Sir. Please may I ….. now.”

I suppose I could have eased off on the Hitachi. But then she would complain that I was teasing her. I could have slid back the crystal cock some. But I liked the way it impaled her. Made her even less capable of evading the power tool. She was pinned and growing increasingly desperate.

But she hadn’t surrendered. Not yet. Not completely.

“Are you so desperate to come that you’d make me your Master indefinitely…become the Slave of the household.”

“No, Slave… not that…. how about for just today?”

Interesting. She was negotiating. She was clearly very desperate to come. I could tell that. But she would not really give up the reins of power. She had drawn the line. And she was not going to surrender her authority.

What to do? Shut down the Hitachi. Let her languish for a while. See if that might change her tune. Then start all over again in an hour or so?

But, as I continued to press the Hitachi and the crystal cock against her mulling my next step, I realized was glad to hear her resistance to my ultimatum. I was glad she was loyal to her role as my Mistress, no matter how much I tortured her with frustration and desire.


She was sticking to name, rank and serial number.

And, as you surely knew I would, I was the one who surrendered.

“Yes, Mistress, now you may come.”

I pressed unrelentingly on with my devices of torture.

It took her a minute or so, once the caution flag was lifted, to mentally cash in her chips…..but when she did.

Yow.

The moaning, the stretching of muscles, the sobs, as she took her self over the cliff, once, then twice, until she was begging me to switch it off….

“Oh, God,,,, I’m too sensitive now Slave. Please turn it off.”

And I did. Obedient as ever.

(I listened to you on that one, Sin.)

When I put town my instruments, and turned to face Mistress, her face was red, blotchy from those sobs. Tears caressed her cheeks.

And she hardly protested when I slid back into her, still spreadeagled, to take my prize.

Yes, I was still her Slave. She made that very clear. But, at least for the moment, she was still at my mercy.

Beware Greeks Bearing Chili

First, thanks for all the good wishes on our contractual anniversary. It’s that type of feedback (along with Mistress’s addictive nectar) that keeps me waking up early and writing these little love letters to Mistress  every morning!

And, as you might expect, Mistress indulged Slave yesterday after she read the blog – well I suppose the indulgence began while she was reading the blog.

We had plans that took us in different directions Saturday morning, so Friday night Mistress let it be known that the cage would be worn, and that she wanted me to come to bed with the steel ring already in place.  She likes how hard it makes me, and the fact that it takes a little more effort for me to come with it’s tight grip around my balls and cock.

That sucker does squeeze tight when I am fully engorged for her.

So, by the time she gave me permission to come Saturday morning, Mistress had a good sampling of orgasms to start her day.

Soon Mistress was off  to have her tresses trimmed. I was scrambling some eggs when I realized that in our mutual post sex hubris, we had forgotten to secure my cage over that tight ring.

I suppose I could have blown it off.

But that would have been wrong. 

I slid the cage in place, popped the little lock closed, and snapped a photo of the resulting encaged cock, sending it to her by text message.

“Didn’t forget, Mistress.”

“Very good Slave.”

I take simple pleasures in pleasing her.

And later I was rewarded.

She unlocked the cage before taking my ass with that strap-on of hers.

When we were done  – after more orgasms for her, and one for me - we took a long luxuriant nap, then read in bed, before heading downtown to meet some friends for dinner.

Before I get to an explanation for the  photo posted above, I wanted to share a story from earlier in the week that slipped through the cracks of my Friday morning blog.

Recall that we had spent Thursday evening down at the old ball game. Mistress’s firm had one of those luxury suites reserved for the evening. I was out on the balcony, watching the game and chatting with friends during the latter innings, while Mistress, not much of a baseball fan, was inside, working the crowd of clients and prospects who had been invited for drinks and dinner.

As the game ended, I came inside and found Mistress and one of her female colleagues under the spell of two swarthy young men who seemed equally entranced.

These were the scions of a famous River City Chili Empire – a Greek family that started with a humble neighborhood greasy spoon of a joint,  and now have a chain that stretches through the region.

Mistress had shared with me some stories about her meetings with the family, usually including some comment about how hot and compelling various members of this multi-generational family seemed.

One of these lads had dark, shiny curls, and a sort of Don Johnson “Miami Vice” era closely trimmed beard. The other had closely cropped hair. Both had dark piercing eyes, and all four of them seemed to be taking Mistress in with appreciative, seductive amusement.

And when I say “Young”, I mean young.

Early 20’s. 

Only if Mistress took both of them on at once could she say she was staying within her own age range.

I talked with the four of them for a while, but they kept theur eyes and attention 100% on dear Molly. One shared a long funny story with a slightly naughty theme. And they talked about how they were looking forward to Mistress joining them at an upcoming “Chili Convention” in Nashville.

So on the way home, It was natural for me to tease Mistress about the prospects of both of them sharing her bed on that little junket.  I had in mind a scenario where Mistress sucked the large throbbing  cock of one, while the other fed at her musky fountain.

And Mistress seemed more than game to consider that scenario.

But somehow I forgot to cast these two, compelling Mediterranean characters into the blog Friday. It would have been fun, simply to yank M’s chain a bit – something I am not above doing if only to “stir the drink” a bit.

Well, despite my neglect, Mistress must have discussed them with M on Friday, because this email popped up later in the day from our Western Correspondent:

“Is there any truth to the rumor that your humble WC is in danger of being replaced by two young Greek Chili tycoons and/or and very comely lesbian couple, all of who are certainly younger and better looking than your broken down old WC.

 I would remind you that I have given my life to this organization, and it may well constitute age discrimination to summarily dismiss your aging WC.  

In fact I think these allegations about the WC's alleged lack of productivity coming from your office these last few months, have  been an obvious   pretext for letting the WC go, in favor of younger and less expensive employees.  Any alleged admissions I made have made to the contrary were merely attempts at levity and did not constitute admissions or ratification of the scandalous charges you have made.  

In any case the Greek Chili Tycoon story certainly seems blog worthy to your humble WC.

Take care U2 nuts.”

So it seemed that Mistress had shared her  Cougar imaginings with her Cyber Dom, with the desired effect. 

Clever, Mistress. Very clever.

I responded to M as follows, without an admission or denial of the prospects of replacing our Western Correspondent with a younger, more energetic duo. Mistress could probably engage both of them at no more than half the salary of our more experienced, if under productive stringer form the Mountain time zone. But we might have to cover the costs of an on-line Journalism class.

“funny.... I forgot to mention those guys. I couldn't tell who was chasing whom last night.  The two guys were certainly charmed by Mistress.... but then again she seemed interested in what the chili guys had to offer too.”

M got back to me later Friday evening:

“Lol. I suspected just such a thing.. the little flirt cant help herself... bless her heart..."greek is good"...isn't that a line from a Michael Douglas movie, or something like that... and I hear they are experts at anal sex.... I might get beat to the punch .. but don't underestimate me. I'm a quick counter puncher with a hard right cross.”

I suspect Mistress would love to endure whatever M might have to offer in that category.

Now for that photo….

Last night, in the way home from dinner, we came to a rail crossing not far from our home, on a dark side street. The bars were down and red lights were flashing for a long freight train. It was late, and no other cars were in front of or behind us.

Rather than back up and find an alternative route, I put the car in park.

Mistress had  black, high boots on, for the first cool, damp day of Fall. But her legs were bare. She had not resigned to the inevitable arrival of tights weather just yet.

“Why don’t you pull down your underwear Mistress, to give me better access.

She was game, and even shot this photo before my fingers burrowed into her dampening folds as the red lights flashed and the train slowly rumbled past.

It was our Anniversary after all.

I figured Mistress deserved one more orgasm before bedtime.