Making Plans

First off – today’s illustration. I was on deadline yesterday morning, and did not have the time to download a photo of Mistress with her new friend: the black turkey feather. Thanks to ‘Nilla and our Western Correspondent for their inspiration.

I plan to make sure that high priced (29 cent) feather gets put to good use.

One thing I haven’t mentioned, so far, are some plans that Molly and Mick are making: a few weekends hence we will be traveling down river to meet up with Aisha and her Sir D for one of those munch / play party extravaganza’s she has been writing about to great erotic effect these last few weeks.

Of course, the thought of blog world colliding with reality brings a certain sense of excitement, mingled with danger. But, all in all, Aisha and her friends don’t seem too dangerous.

Molly and Mick are semi-notorious in our Vanilla identities here in River City, so we have steered clear of any “community” activities hereabouts, though there seem to be plenty. We have jobs, kids, families, reputations to guard.

But the thought of quietly slinking into another community, where we can be good old Mick and Molly, has mucho allure.

When Aisha gave us the upcoming date over the weekend, Mistress was quick to remind me of a wedding (the third) for a female friend on our social calendar that same eveing. But then she quickly blew it off:

“We can always go to the next one, Slave…. Meeting Aisha and her friends sounds like so much more fun.”

So we were quickly on the computer, looking for chambers in one of the charming B & B’s down Aisha’s way. Alas. There is some big event there that weekend. So we made a reservation at a more generic spot, not far from the evening’s venues.

Yesterday, after some end of the day worship, we went on a sunset bike ride. The leaves here in River City are in their full vivid fall colors now, and the low sun lit them up with a brilliant flare. Beautiful.

As we coasted down the backside of the long hill we had climbed, Mistress mentioned that she had talked earlier in the day with M about our upcoming plans. Sounds like he was a little envious.

“ I told him we couldn’t find a romantic B & B Slave…. We had to settle for the vanilla variety. But he said that’s probably a good thing …. “

“Why’s that Mistress?”

“ He said it’s hard to have raucous sex in a romantic B & B…. once he and B had some scene going at some rustic Inn in Nova Scotia … he spanked her and apparently made lots of noise doing it…. The next day the folks at breakfast gave him some pretty nasty looks….”

“Hmmmm …. Hadn’t thought if that…. But then I bet you and I are a bit quieter than the Western Correspondent might be.”

They also talked about how a couple presents themselves at one of these kinky soirées.

“M wondered whether we’d go as Mistress and Slave?”

“What are you thinking, Mistress?”

“I don’t know … maybe we just go as “normal””.

“Wouldn’t that be a little rude? They might think we were just gawkers… rather than part of their crowd. It would sort of be like us showing up as Mistress and Slave at that wedding when everyone else came as straight … except for the bridesmaids in drag, of course….”

Yeah. It was going to be that type of wedding.

It was clear Mistress was now running through her wardrobe options. There is no advice column on what to wear to your first “Play Party” is there?

“I don’t think I’m going to wear one of those rope dresses, Slave”

“You don’t wear that Mistress …. You take your cloths off and someone ties it on you….”

She obviously had not been reading Aisha’s blog with sufficient attention to the prurient detail.

This could all get very complicated.



“So how do you think we go should, Slave?”

“Let’s check with Aisha …. But I am assuming I go as your Slave…. Unless you want it to be Switch Day 12 hours earlier than normal?”

Yes. That could be fun.

Mistress said she needed to think about that.

Slave Blinks

It turns out Mistress is quite ticklish.

There she was bound spread eagled on our bed. Not quite stretched out enough though. Because when she began to squirm – as the tip of the feather ran across the sole of her foot, or along the inside of her strong arms – she was able to pull away just a it stretching the fabric of the long beach towel strips that bound her legs to the bed.

There was no manic laughing though. She was sensitive the the sullen wisdom toothless teen, stalking the hallways, a little buzzed on the percocet that the dentist had given her to help with the pain. No need to make her think her mother was in peril.

Just lots of squirming.

I fed her my cock, to give her a little break.

Fucked her a bit, reminding her that M’s recommendation for Sunday was that she be teased but not allowed to come until later in the day.

She made nice little moaning sounds as my Work-a-day cock slid effortlessly into her, her limbs stretched so wide.

Mistress does helpless well.

“I need to focus Slave, when I’m not allowed to come. It’s a whole different mindset.”

Yes, Mistress. Been there. And (not) Done that.

When it seemed I had taken that liberty as far as seemed fair and responsible to her, I slid out, and reached for the feather again.

It turns about that with a little extra sexual tension built up, Mistress is parituclarly sensitive when the tip of a feather is slowly dragged through that little crease in her folds.

Her hips jerked, she pulled at her leg bindings, making the bed literally graon along with her. Suddenly she was bucking for all she was worth.

“Did you just come, Mistress?”

It seemed like it to me….

“No, Slave…. That was just…. Well…. Frustrating.”

I was not so sure that she hadn’t snuck one in on me, But I took her at her word.

Then reached for the Hitachi.

“You’re not using that are you, Slave.”

The sweet indignation in her voice was amusing.

“Of course. That’s what M suggested. He wanted me to tease you with the feather that ‘Nilla suggested, then tease some more with the Hitachi. But not let you come…”

“He didn’t!”

“Oh yes…. Remember his text “I threw you under the bus today, Slave?” or something like that. You read it to me.”

Somehow Mistress had missed that part. For shame. The anticipation would have haunted her for a day or more.

The Hitachi was on low. Mistress’s inflamed little clit responded as you might expect.

It was the first time Mistress begged me to stop, trying her best to pull away and avoid it’s inevitable toll.

“You can’t do that anymore, Slave….. not if you expect me to not come.”

Was that a double or triple negative. I guess that’s what happens when the Hitachi combines with an orgasm quarantine.

She was so desperate and clever that she somehow got her legs to close, muscles straining better than any Nuatilus machine might require from her.

But I foxed her by sliding the Hitachi between her thighs from below, worming it back into place until it was pressed just so between those molten lips.

“Oh god, Slave…..can’t I please come .”

That’s when I broke. The thought of her waiting all day for it, while I was at the football game just seemed too much. I would have to hide the Hitachi. No doubt M would be in touch, importuning her to come for him.

Plus, at bottom (pun intended, ‘Nilla and Aisha) I am a softy. Mistress need was there to be filled, and it was harder (maybe) on me than on her not to fill it.

“OK, Mistress, I will consider your request …. But I want to hear begging….”

And, of course, she begged. There were “please, Slave, can I come’s” out the whazoo. Lots of whimpering. Much squirming as I let her sit on the brink for a minute or so.

I love that sound of desperation in Mistress’s voice.

Finally I relented.

“Yes, Mistress, you may come….”

With the caution flag down, Mistress wound herself up around the churning head of our power tool, her body taking the plunge as her hips rose off the bed.

I was glad I had the music on, to bury those choice and delicious sounds she made.

And I forced another, deeper one from her before mounting her again for my own reward – a process that I was in no mood to rush.

Afterwards, once Mistress was unbound, I wondered if our readers would be disappointed – particularly M.

AS it turns out, while Mistress made a brief trip to the grocery, he called to get an update.

“He wanted to know how Switch day went, Slave?”

“I’m sure he was curious about how his Slave handled all that “torture” Mistress. But was he disappointed that I let you come?”

“I don’t think he was surprised, Slave. I told him that he would probably have relented under the circumstances too.”

“And what did he say to that, Mistress?”

“He said, probably true if it was the first time we were together. Or had not seen each other in months. But not if he got to have sex with me every day!”

Sorry big guy. You had to be here!

MIstress dusts off the Shoe Horn

Maybe it was the stunning sight of Aisha’s post risotto spooned bottom this morning – I showed it to Mistress after she read the blog and we had made love – but when we retired to our chambers yesterday Mistress was in the mood to discipline her Slave.

She told me to insert my little white device. She clearly wanted the hardest version of cock I could make available to her.

When I came to bed, naked, after following her directions, it was already twitchy, interested in what she had in store.

Mistress had her laptop open., sitting up in the bed against a bank of pillows. She had one of those lacy, frilly and very shear top and bottom numbers I had gotten her several years ago. Very charming.

“Just a minute, Slave…. I need to send a little good night note to M….”

I stood there patiently as she typed away. They had not had a chance to talk through the day, but there certainly had been a little text message chatter between them. It made me think about their surprise Friday morning date. And that I needed to ask Mistress about one of his texts she had shown me. Something like:

“Don’t forget to tell your Slave about the part where you had to suck the Domme’s clit, and make her cum….. “

Hmmm. I guess I need to ask about that one….

By now Mistress had put down the laptop and assumed a more commanding demeanor.

“You know Slave…. M reminds me that I need to be firmer with you… is that true?

“I have no problem with that Mistress….”

She gave me that little look of disapproval.

“Passive aggressive. Slave. Is he right …. Should I be firmer?”

“You should, Mistress….”

Why is it so embarrassing to ask to be punished?

“Why don’t you lie face down on the bed, Slave.”

“Of course.”

I settled onto the bed, as directed. She was not leaving this thread unclosed though.

“Is he right, Slave…. Do you need to be punished more often?”

“I am sure he is right, Mistress.”

She reached for the long wooden shoe horn hanging from it’s loop on a chair at her desk. The sound of it smacking against her elegant hands was …. startling. My butt clinched, gripping the white probe, sending a little jolt down my cock as it pressed against the cool sheets.

Then the wood slapped against my ass.

“Ouch….. and why am I being punished, Mistress….”

“You were a little grumpy with me , Slave…. Several times this week….”

“I suppose I was …. Sorry, Mistress.

Smack. Ouch. My ass squirmed. But I took my punishment.

“Will you do it again, Slave?”

“No , Mistress…. I won’t”

Smack.

“I don’t believe you, Slave…. Will you do it again….”


Smack. A particularly hard one. I could feel the blood rushing to my ass, wondering if it was already getting red and puffy. Or, in my case, puffier.

“Wow,,,, that hurt Mistress.”

“It was supposed to Slave…. Now lets try again…. will you act that way again….?”

“I suspect I will, Mistress…. It’s probably my nature…. “

Smack… Youch.

I could hear the tone of wry amusement in her voice now. She knew I was hopeless … of course I would get grumpy again.

“But will you try to be more respectful of your Mistress when you get in one of those snits?”

“Yes…. Mistress. I will certainly try.”

And maybe the knowledge that there could be painful consequences of this sort will help me “stifle”.

“Roll over, Slave….”

Ahh. Apparently my punishment was over. I had taken 10 or so. She had been easy on me. But I could feel the glow of my bottom as I rolled over to present my semi-hard cock to her.

She poked and prodded it a bit with the shoe horn. “Ooohing” and “Ahhing” a little as she made it twitch and stretch.

Then she hung the horn back on the chair and slid into bed with me, her fingers working their magic where the hard wood had been so recently.

I slid down to cover her folds with my mouth, sliding the silky undies she wore off her and making sure she had a worthy starter cum.

But then I was on my back again, and Mistress gentle “torture” of my cock and balls resumed. All finger tips teasing and tormenting, until she had me squirming and begging for the privilege to fuck her.

“My you are rather demanding, Slave…. What’s the deal?

“Ahhh you’re driving me crazy Mistress…. But I know you don’t want me to come this way…..wouldn’t you rather have me fuck you?

“I suppose I would, Slave….”

Her work done, Mistress rolled onto her back…

I was happy to take over from there.

The Collins' Re-Boot

Mistress was sleeping in a bit yesterday …. She had the unfortunate duty of taking one of the surly teens to have her wisdom teeth extracted. But at least she could turn it into a day away from her sometimes stressful  office.

I appreciated her willingness to indulge me though: when I cam  up with my laptop after my morning assignment was posted, she would have been entitled to mumble “I’ll read it later, Slave” and send me off to the showers.

But instead I was allowed to lavish her succulent folds with attention from tongue and lips as she read with bleary eyes.  Then she fondled my cock with her wily fingers and lascivious mouth until I was egging to fuck her. 

Yes, She is very  permissive. And I am a very spoiled Slave.

But as things turned out, she was not the only indulgent one at UCTMW, LLC.

I was plugging away at work, getting updates on our daughter’s procedure and recovery via text message, and then things went “dark” for about an hour. I wondered what Mistress was up to….

Around 11:30 am or so my cell phone rang.

“Hello, Slave…..”

She had that husky, sexy tone back in her voice, well fucked version.

“Have you been busy, Mistress…?”

“Well, M asked if he could call, and …. One thing led to another, Slave. The teen was asleep, so I figured….”

“You naughty Mistress…. How many?”

“Only 4, Slave….  We didn’t have that much time….”

“Only 4!”

She giggled a bit. still a bit giddy from all that coming I suspect.

“And did M get to have one of those exuberant comes too, Mistress….”

“Why, yes , Slave he did….”

I imagined Mistress splayed across our bed, coaxing M to fondle his “special occasion cock”, as she used the Hitachi to drive her self to multiple distractions.

“And what sordid tale did he spin for you this time, Mistress….”

“Nothing too complex… I flew out …. He picked me up at the airport …. He made me take my panties off on the drive to his cabin in the mountains…. That sort of thing.”

I was wondering if our Western Correspondent planned to submit a mileage voucher to the home office for this little junket. Some time he can abuse that expense account, like a over the hill journalists manning their paper’s foreign desks are want to do.

But then I thought of the cabin of his company car, filling with the exotic musk of my CEO, as he – or was it she – strummed her naughty bits on the drive up to his mountain hideaway.

That cock twitch inducing thought was quickly shoved to the side. I did have work to focus on, after all.

Mistress and I signed off.

She was planning to join me downtown late that afternoon for a reception we were hosting for a politico we admire, who is locked in a fight to the death with his sleazy opponent.

But in the meantime I had a little quest of my own to make sure I can bring to life ‘Nilla and M’s suggestions for our Sunday morning switch.

A fellow twit had suggested that feathers could be found at a downtown costume store.  The place was loaded up for Halloween. Kids and Moms were perusing for their costumes.

But, sure enough, next to a display of slutty balck fishnets for all those “Christine O’Donnell as Elvira” costumes that surely will be the rage this season, I found a collection of feathers.

Only 49 cents each. 

I picked up a few for Mistress’s entertainment. As I paid with the change from my pocket, I heard a clerk talking to a prospective customer on the phone.

“Exactly what type of antlers are you looking for….?”

Hmmmm …. what sort of kinky sexual ritual could involve antlers?

Later that afternoon, Mistress joined me as we entertained a group of 50 or so contributors, supporters, and hangers-on with our candidate out on our office deck, high over River City’s public square. It was a beautiful, toasty warm fall afternoon. The event was a success.

I am always thrilled to have the most beautiful woman in the room on my arm for such events. And I was particularly lucky she had not made me wear my cage.

It had been a long busy work week for the Collins’. A little extra stress was heaped on by some performance art we were both required to do. So, with word from home that the teen had a friend over to attend to her needs, we decided to stay downtown a while. We enjoyed dinner at a new restaurant opened by a local culinary superstar.

The photo is Mistress in her elegant cocktail dress, a glass of bubbly in hand.  A good way to hit the “reboot” button and start our weekend.

And, by the way, Mistress seemed pleased that I had found those feathers.