Mistress Gives Marital Advice

Mick and Molly wandered back from the wedding of the decade around midnight. It seemed like one of those nights where the tired adventurers would take a pass: a long day of photos, polite chatter, open bars and food, food, food. 

The surly teens were already tucked away on their half of the hotel suite.  Mistress removed her well fitted maid of honor dress, likely never to see the light of day again.

Slave stripped away the Tux, bow tie, dress shirt, studs and links. All that was left was the tight hard plastic cock ring Mistress had instructed him to put on much, much earlier in the day.

The cock ring had not been particularly bothersome through the day’s events.  A crowd that featured lots of women of undetermined age with colored hair who tithe to their plastic surgeons had not been a source of stimulation. And Mistress was required to be charming to all those long lost and now aging cousins and high school friends who showed for the big event.  She had no time to taunt or tease her Slave.

The only veiled reference to our peculiar relationship was one that Mistress made to a male cousin, about her age, concerning marriage: “After all these years, we have learned that marriage only works when one partner takes charge. Don’t you agree Mick?”, she asked. “Of course”, I replied. The cousin seemed to think that Mistress meant her older, grayer husband was the Boss. But I set him straight by commenting, without a drip of sarcasm, “I live to serve her.” He seemed confused.

By now, Mistress was down to the nude panty hose she had worn under her wedding costume. I am one who enjoys the feel and texture of the silky nylon encasing a woman’s legs.  But then Mistress pointed to a unique feature. “I discovered this earlier tonite, Slave. There is an opening where your cock goes….” Obviously, I was intrigued. She offered to sleep in them for our morning time play. Who was I to object?

The lights out, we rolled toward each other in bed. Mistress acknowledged she was tired and a bit tipsy. And I had no plans for anything other than the sleep of the dead. But Mistress’s tricked out pantyhose and my now tightening cock ring conspired against our initial intentions.

It started with my semi-innocent desire to feel the opening she had pointed out. As my fingers found, then lingered within her soft folds, it was obvious that Mistress was responsive, her hips making those involuntary squirms and shuffles that found a rhythm with the fingers sliding against her.

At first I pulled away, my curiosity satisfied. Mistress seemed cool with that, and sleep was tempting. There would always be morning, only a few hours away.

But that’s where the ring came in. My cock had hardened some as I explored Mistress’s cunning opening. Once hard, the ring conspired to keep it that way, the blood trapped by the ring that seemed to get tighter by the minute. There was only on way to resolve that problem.

Mistress was on her tummy now, restless but seemingly committed to sleep. I slid on top of her, and she was amused by the hard cock pressed against the crack of her well contained ass. My fingers squirmed beneath her and she responded nicely, soon rolling over and giving me permission to enter. ‘But you will have to do the work tonite, Slave.” Soon she expressed her pleasure with how hard my cock had become with no effort of her own.

It was a snap to find the opening in her hose and slide inside. As we fucked away I tried to raise her temperature a bit by talking about her quest for a part time Dom. She conceded in her passion that her body responds to the idea of being taken by another with a firm hand, someone who will firmly train her to please him, and treat her like the little slut she sometimes longs to be. These concessions were made in a voice laden with so much heat that I was grateful our suite was protected by a sprinkler system.

At some point she demanded that I roll over. The woman who had seemed so ready for sleep minutes earlier was a tigress now, taking her pleasure from me as she pounded her cunt onto my throbbing, ringed cock and balls. It hurt a bit, but Mistress’s pleasure was the priority now. She came hard, gasping, sobbing, the tears flowing until she was exhausted and gave up, rolling over for me to use her as I saw fit.

Fatigue and the by now almost painfully tight ring demanded that I take a long slow road to my own release. When it came (with permission granted) it was in a series of spurts that had me groaning with  relief, and Mistress with gratitude that she could finally get some sleep.