Dear Mistress,
Wanted to continue with the story of how I ended up “under contract” in case there is a reader or two out there who is actually following this tale, rather than simply dipping in for the “good parts” (and there have been more than a few).
We walked slowly into the world of D/s in the months that followed. You were still recovering from the emotional hangover of my monumental fuck-up. But we were also working at getting closer together and reigniting a sex life that had grown a little too plain. You upgraded your lingerie collection. We shopped together for some lovely sex toys – the crystal cock and penis ring were hits .
In the past, I was the one who tied you to the bed. But now you were doing that to me on occasion. Often preceded by a few strokes with the riding crop that made me squirm and cry out. I got in the habit of kneeling to suck your cunt, which actually seemed to be better for the neck muscles. And when you tied my hands behind my back, and had me pleasure you on my knees it was a particular turn on for me.
Our fantasies sometimes revolved around you displaying me for a female friend. Making me watch you make love to her. Or “forcing” me to kneel and service you both in turn. (of course only you had the right to handle my cock, mistress, even in our fantasy life).
As you paged through a sex toy catalog one day, you noticed the little white probe for penetrating my ass that seemed appealing to you. I am not sure why you keyed on that device. Possibly as a further way to wring some additional submission from me?
You were onto something. I ordered it as directed. It came to my office, but I was a little reluctant to point out it was on hand. As I recall, I disclosed its arrival one night when we were in separate cities, doing one of our video chats. You wasted no time in telling me to lube it up and insert it for you, and the video on your little screen showed its instant engorging impact. Whether it is a physical stimulus, or the symbolism of being penetrated by you, it has had a dramatic effect on my ability to get hard, even on days when multiple couplings or a long day at work that would previously have made
me inclined to turn over and suggest we wait until morning. And it also seems to enhance the quality of my orgasms for you when I get to come.
At some point early on we instituted the “rules” that I would follow, and you often had me recite them:
• I would not touch myself without your permission.
• I would not come without your permission.
• My cock belonged only to you.
•
While the requirement of these recitations has diminished, they seem burned into me. No masturbating for me without your direction. I rarely fail to beg for the right to come. (and if I do I know the prospect of punishment looms).
Sometime in the Fall we landed on the idea of the cage. That little plastic device that locks up my penis and makes it impossible to grow until it is unlocked. When we were apart you had me wear it to work, and I would show you it was on by i-photo or video chat. It was always nice to arrive home to you after a few days with my cock locked away, and earn its release by some kneeling worship of your feet , thighs and cunt. By now I have grown used to it, despite the little pinches and pulls and the need to sit while urinating. Its like your hands cupping me during the work day. Though sometimes when you visit at work its frustrating that I can give you pleasure but the little key is at home on your bedside table.
It was Valentine’s Day that you first used your mist persuasive tool for obtaining my submission: the Strap-On. That was another thing you noticed in a catalog. What made you think that this would help bring us together? Was it really my submission that you wanted all along? This certainly helped you en-slave me.
I know the first time was a little terrifying for me. You were all dressed up in black hose and sexy undies. You positioned me with my ass in the air a bit, a pillow under me. I was told to help you find your target. I gasped as you entered me, and thrust inside. But the most memorable part was how dramatically you came as you thrust against me. I have never been able to come this way (though it was close a few times), but by the time you are done I am reduced to a rag doll, with little energy or desire to do anything but lay there in sub-space.
As summer turned to fall it became more common for me to call you Mistress and you to call me Slave in our daily interactions. But it was a disagreement over the phone on a night that you were out of town, and I was going to pick you up at the airport that led to our Contract. I mentioned my plan to stop off at some friends’ house for a drink before heading to the airport. Now you have never been particularly controlling about my social life when we were apart. Maybe you should have been, I suppose. But on this occasion you were unhappy because of an understandable fear that I might run into someone who had come between us. I got snippy and whiney, but agreed to go home.
When you arrived and climbed into my car at the airport, you were upset. I said that maybe the better approach would have been to use your Mistress power over me to tell me to go home and tie myself to the bed, or go for a bile ride, whatever, until it was time to collect you. That I would have responded better in my persona as slave rather than sulky husband trying to hang with friends on an evening you were away.
And that is what led to our contract, a matter I will discuss in a subsequent blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment