HUH?

"Simone" and "Sam" have been forced to go on the Lam, after some sloppy security work exposed them to their potential "enemies". Fortunately, they've found help through the SBPP.
("Sex Bloggers Protection Program"). Follow their adventures here until its safe for them to resume their prior alter-egos.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Mistress Likes to Tease


Mistress enjoys telling me about the men who flirt with her during the course of her day. It’s a reminder that under our contract she has retained the right to fuck anyone she pleases, with the understanding that she will share the details with me.

For reasons that are hard to articulate, when Mistress talks about her flirtations, or tells me that man she runs into is attractive to her, speculating about how it would be to suck his cock, it’s a huge turn on for me. That humiliation – the thought of my mistress be serviced by or serving other men and enjoying it - reinforces my status as her Slave. And that is a powerful thing.

Yesterday, when Mistress was sitting in her “throne” in my office, and I was on my knees, my face planted between her legs, sucking her juices through those alluring black tights, she talked about the man she had just spent lunch with at a meeting with a client.

“Someone flirted with me today, Slave”.

“Oh…tell me, Mistress” as I looked up briefly, seeing that “cat that ate the canary” look in her eye.

“Yes. The client may have me traveling some with him.”

“Where, Mistress?”, I asked returning to my task.

“Several big cities, possibly. He’s from D.C…said he’d take me to that restaurant we like so much when I come to town.”

By now, the combination of Mistress’s taste and scent, and her teasing words had my cock straining against the hard steel of the cage she had locked on me early that morning.

“What’s he like, Mistress?”

“Very Sophisticated. About my age. Attractice.“

By now Mistress was wet and squirming in the chair pressed against my office door, and I had her slide up a bit to let me pull down her tights to the tops of her black boots.

As we maneuvered her back into position, legs spread just enough for me to slide my mouth into her silky and very wet folds, I asked, “Does he want you Mistress?”

“Maybe, Slave.”

“And you? Did you imagine sucking his cock?”

Mistress’s seemingly affirmative response was a bit indecipherable, because my tongue and lips found the sweet spot that pressed her gently but firmly over the edge. Her hips bucked against me for a long 60 seconds or she tried with apparent success to conceal the sounds of her pleasure from my more industrious colleagues heard just beyond the door, where they were conferring on weighty matters.

Once she was satisfied and more composed, we stood, and her hand pressed against the hard steel of my cage through my navy dress trousers. My eyes shut and I quietly groaned at this frustrating contact . My cock was pressing painfully against its little prison.

“You like it when I can pleasure you here but can’t get anything in return, don’t you, Mistress?

“Of course, Slave. Wish I had the key?”

“Right now? Very much.”

“Would you actually do it in here? During work?

“Right now, I’d do you right across my desk, Mistress. If only….”

“Maybe I will surprise you some day”.

A Slave can only hope.

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