The Leather Glove

Dear Mistress,

Monday is the day of the week we try to abstain from conventional intercourse, and we actually stuck to the rules yesterday. The concept originated from the excitement we had those few days a month ago when your doctor suggested that you refrain for a few days. And we did. And we discovered the pleasures and intensity of being forced to find alternative modalities of release. Of course, the inability to fuck for a day makes me want to fuck you all the more. When I woke in the middle of the night it took some monumental will for me not to make a pest of myself. And I know a slave should not be a pest.

After Monday’s homework assignment for you, about our Sunday Switch, I handed you your computer, and assumed my position under the covers, face buried in your cunt. My scribbles must have been particularly inspiring for you, because unlike most mornings, you came while still reading. I was wondering what passage got you over the top, to make sure I plant that seed again.

After you had your share, you put on that leather glove. Its soft texture as you stroke me with it makes me hard almost immediately. But I am still a little self conscious about you making me come that way. Frustrated and desperate, I ultimately offered to help, and as you cupped and fondled my balls with the leather glove, I used my hand on my shaft and was finally released from my torment. But of course, only after begging for your permission.

Soon I was locked in my cage, and you were off too, up the highway for meetings. When I got home you were busy on work. I asked for permission to worship you, kneeling, enjoying the texture of your black tights, before peeling them away for my first taste after so many hours at work.

After a bike ride it was time to fix dinner, then settle in for some TV, me comfortably seated on the floor between your legs rubbing your feet and getting an occasional chance to taste you through those riding tights I like so much. When you grew tired it was time to go upstairs. After I pleasured you with my mouth, you put the glove back on, and although I was instantly hard, it was not easy for me to come that way. So you took a break and announced you were still horny and would masturbate yourself. As I lay next to you, my cock pressed against your side, you used your hand to rub away as I spun a story about you meeting a couple at a bar near our vacation home, taking them home and….well we never got to that part. You came with a rush and some tears, and then it was my turn, and as I used my hand and you used the glove I joined you.

Throughout the day we talked off and on about your decision to disconnect from E., at least for now. I must say that he seems to have treated you shabbily. My sense is that you laid it out there for him, but he turned out to be a “catch and release” artiste, more interested in amateur philosophizing than nurturing and returning the feelings he had brought alive in you. Annoying.

But that clay footed E is different from the Uber E that you and I created in our fantasy life these last few weeks. The character who could made you yearn for a hard spanking and total submission, if only for 24 hours in some hideaway off the beaten path. It will be hard for us to give up that character. Who knows, maybe somewhere inside the real E that Uber E still lives on, just as the closet, submissive housewife oozing pheremones still lives on inside my powerfully attractive and dominant Mistress.

While the “right” thing may be to let Uber E go, it will be very hard for us. So why bother. Nothing wrong with stoking the occasional fantasy, with or without me, that someday Uber E will re-emerge, in the form of a plane ticket to NYC or LA, or an E- vite to some Inn on the Lake in Michigan. Maybe there still will be a time when Uber E pushes you face first against a wall, whispers in your ear about his plans for you, loosens his tie, yanks your wrists behind you and ties them inescapably tight. Or a time when he forces you to your knees to worship his cock. Or pulls you across his lap for a hard spanking with that hairbrush. Or takes you from behind, bent over his desk, skirt hiked up and panties down around your ankles.

Until that time comes, your slave is happy to play the Uber E role to the best of my ability. If I perform poorly, I will have deserve a good punishment.