Lighter Fluid

Because we have been sharing some fiction these last few days, readers may think that Mick and Molly have been slackers in the sex department. But as it turns out, we have been as crazy and compulsive as ever in our inability to suppress our sexual appetites.

We returned from our little mini-break late Tuesday night, tired from the Delta shuffle, and confronted by too much graying snow on the ground, and a house laid waste by surly teens in our absence. I lost track counting the empty pizza boxes.

That did dampen the fire a bit, and when I woke up Wednesday morning, realizing it was Abstinence Day, I knew I would have to keep my mind on other things to make it through the day.

But Mistress did not feel a need to co-operate. I donned my cage that morning, as she requires. The cold metal ring squeezing at the base of my balls was something I had not missed over our long weekend. But it is a nice reminder of my status. And it’s good to know Mistress cares enough to police me this way.

She was back at work too, and after a meeting downtown, she stopped by for some worship. After all, it had been, by then, a bit more than 24 hours for her as well.

And I was happy to please her. She took her place in her “throne”, an upholstered chair pressed against the closed door. And I took my place on my knees, sliding those alluring black tights down to her boot tops, making just enough room for my head to slide between her strong thighs.

By the time she had her fill of my lips and tongue, she seemed refreshed. But all I had to show for it was a very wet face and a cock straining against stainless steel, reminding me that I still had another 18 hours to go.

Mistress was worshiped again that evening. And while she released me from my cage, I was required to wait for more complete release until morning.

When I finally had a chance to take her on Thursday morning, about 48 hours had passed since my last opportunity to come. (I know, for some of you out there, that hardly seems like a sacrifice, but Mistress has me hooked and after only 24 hours ugly withdrawal symptoms rear their head, like Vladimir Putin winging it over Wasilla, Alaska).

The steel ring gripped my swollen balls and cock as Mistress consented to my request to fuck her, making my ultimate explosion … profound.

“Oh my, Slave. That was … impressive.”

Indeed.

After that Thursday morning parole, Mistress locked me away again, and it was off to work.

But what had me on edge through Thursday was knowing that Mistress had a first engagement that afternoon with someone … another man. In this case, she was meeting for a drink a prospective Dom who had contacted Molly after reading our postings.

Our “Contract” (reprinted in the early days of this blog), provides that Mistress has certain privileges that her Slave does not. They include the right to take other lovers, including other slaves. And her rights include her ability to submit to a Dom or Domme, as she chooses.

Now however this develops, what happens between Mistress and others is their business, and not for me to share (unless instructed to do so, of course).

But it’s hard not to comment on how these types of developments impact her Slave in this little world of ours. And, truth be told, Mistress’s outside “interests” do tend to raise the temperature a bit in our bed.

Why that is may be complicated, and way above my psychoanalytical pay grade. But I can only say that when Mistress’s fires are being stoked by the talents of someone in addition to just little old me, she becomes even hotter than her usual, extraordinary hotness. And that makes me even hotter for her. It’s like spraying a bit more lighter fluid on some already glowing coals. Wooosh!

Maybe someday we will get over this condition, but what’s the rush.

So by Thursday evening, when Mistress returned home from her introductory “date”, me still locked away in my cage, I was pretty desperate for my opportunity to worship her.

She arrived home around 7 pm in a black wrap dress, cut in a way to show lots of those enticing legs in their black tights and boots.

Mistress settled onto the bed, with that “cat that ate the canary” look. Things must have gone well, I surmised.

I knelt, and helped Mistress remove her boots, taking her fragrant toes into my mouth, massaging them with my fingers, then working my way up her thighs.

When I pulled her tights down, just low enough to slide my head between her thighs, I could tell Mistress was already quite aroused. I had to wonder how long that had been going on. Hmmm.

Mistress squirmed hard against my mouth, and soon came with a series of moans, and bucks against my probing tongue. It seemed like a series of satisfying quakes before she gently pushed my head away.

“Enough Slave”, she said with a loving smile, rubbing her fingers through my hair. A contented Mistress is my prime directive.

“Looks like you will have to wait until after dinner though…”

Her fingers reached down to settle on the hard contours of my steel cage.

“Let’s just leave this on for a while, until I am ready for you.”

Argh.

“That’s your call, Mistress.”

“Of course it is.”