She's Got Legs....

It may have been Mistress’s long, strong and very shapely legs that made me fall head over heels for her all those years ago.

My first recollection of meeting Molly was at a political fundraising dinner in River City back in the Fall of 1987. She was an (early) 20 something who had recently gone to work for a politico who has since become a rumpled U.S. Senator (yes, he did vote for the health care bill).

I was a late 30’s professional, involved in the local political scene.  It was the age of Reagan and  Iran/Contra. Michael Dukakis had yet to don a combat helmet or ridden in a tank.

We were both married to other people at the time.

I saw her across the room: this young, vibrant beauty with long dark hair, and a stylish short dress that exposed those incredible legs.

Somehow I figured a way to get into her conversational orbit. She must have been chatting up a mutual friend. That was my chance to find out who this heavenly creature with the beautiful legs and luminous smile was. In the conversation that ensued, I can remember commenting on the length of that fashionable dress, how it was something one did not see often in our more conservative, frumpy town.

This was not the sort of conversational theme I would normally have launched into on my first encounter with any woman. But then I was immediately and hopelessly smitten.

She seemed amused, a bit flattered, by my attention.  But wary.  Very wary.

She turned down my obsequious and questionably motivated offer to walk her to her car that night. It was a dark night, in a not altogether safe downtown. I was simply concerned about her well being. Right. I was just looking for a chance to spend some private time with this young lovely.

 Later she told me that she had asked a bellman from the hotel where the dinner was held to do the honors. She was questioning my motivations. And rightfully so.

I will spare you devoted readers the tale of how we ended up in bed with one another within about 9 months from that fateful encounter.

But flashing forward through a lengthy affair, two children, marriage, and sidetracks to Florida and other locales, Mistress’s legs are as compelling as ever.

She keeps then in such shapeliness with lots of biking and other forms of exercise. They are weapons of mass seduction that need to be expertly maintained to retain their seductive powers, and she is an expert.

In years past, and on our witch days, I have enjoyed restraining them, ankles tied to opposite sides of the bed, so I can work my hands and mouth up their full length, watching her squim in anticipation.

In my recently discovered status as her Slave, I enjoy kneeling for her,  her legs spread wide, or maybe draped over my shoulders,  gripping my head, as I use my mouth and tongue to show my devotion to her.

I will remain eternally grateful that Mistress had not worn trousers to that fundraising event all those years ago.

Yesterday an anonymous commenter asked if I had ever “taken Molly up the ass”. The answer is “uh….no.” It’s not something either one of us have been into. I suspect it would take some very powerful persuasion to get Molly interested in that particular experience.

 

She's Got Legs....

It may have been Mistress’s long, strong and very shapely legs that made me fall head over heels for her all those years ago.

My first recollection of meeting Molly was at a political fundraising dinner in River City back in the Fall of 1987. She was an (early) 20 something who had recently gone to work for a politico who has since become a rumpled U.S. Senator (yes, he did vote for the health care bill).

I was a late 30’s professional, involved in the local political scene.  It was the age of Reagan and  Iran/Contra. Michael Dukakis had yet to don a combat helmet or ridden in a tank.

We were both married to other people at the time.

I saw her across the room: this young, vibrant beauty with long dark hair, and a stylish short dress that exposed those incredible legs.

Somehow I figured a way to get into her conversational orbit. She must have been chatting up a mutual friend. That was my chance to find out who this heavenly creature with the beautiful legs and luminous smile was. In the conversation that ensued, I can remember commenting on the length of that fashionable dress, how it was something one did not see often in our more conservative, frumpy town.

This was not the sort of conversational theme I would normally have launched into on my first encounter with any woman. But then I was immediately and hopelessly smitten.

She seemed amused, a bit flattered, by my attention.  But wary.  Very wary.

She turned down my obsequious and questionably motivated offer to walk her to her car that night. It was a dark night, in a not altogether safe downtown. I was simply concerned about her well being. Right. I was just looking for a chance to spend some private time with this young lovely.

 Later she told me that she had asked a bellman from the hotel where the dinner was held to do the honors. She was questioning my motivations. And rightfully so.

I will spare you devoted readers the tale of how we ended up in bed with one another within about 9 months from that fateful encounter.

But flashing forward through a lengthy affair, two children, marriage, and sidetracks to Florida and other locales, Mistress’s legs are as compelling as ever.

She keeps then in such shapeliness with lots of biking and other forms of exercise. They are weapons of mass seduction that need to be expertly maintained to retain their seductive powers, and she is an expert.

In years past, and on our witch days, I have enjoyed restraining them, ankles tied to opposite sides of the bed, so I can work my hands and mouth up their full length, watching her squim in anticipation.

In my recently discovered status as her Slave, I enjoy kneeling for her,  her legs spread wide, or maybe draped over my shoulders,  gripping my head, as I use my mouth and tongue to show my devotion to her.

I will remain eternally grateful that Mistress had not worn trousers to that fundraising event all those years ago.

Yesterday an anonymous commenter asked if I had ever “taken Molly up the ass”. The answer is “uh….no.” It’s not something either one of us have been into. I suspect it would take some very powerful persuasion to get Molly interested in that particular experience.

 

She's Got Legs....

It may have been Mistress’s long, strong and very shapely legs that made me fall head over heels for her all those years ago.

My first recollection of meeting Molly was at a political fundraising dinner in River City back in the Fall of 1987. She was an (early) 20 something who had recently gone to work for a politico who has since become a rumpled U.S. Senator (yes, he did vote for the health care bill).

I was a late 30’s professional, involved in the local political scene.  It was the age of Reagan and  Iran/Contra. Michael Dukakis had yet to don a combat helmet or ridden in a tank.

We were both married to other people at the time.

I saw her across the room: this young, vibrant beauty with long dark hair, and a stylish short dress that exposed those incredible legs.

Somehow I figured a way to get into her conversational orbit. She must have been chatting up a mutual friend. That was my chance to find out who this heavenly creature with the beautiful legs and luminous smile was. In the conversation that ensued, I can remember commenting on the length of that fashionable dress, how it was something one did not see often in our more conservative, frumpy town.

This was not the sort of conversational theme I would normally have launched into on my first encounter with any woman. But then I was immediately and hopelessly smitten.

She seemed amused, a bit flattered, by my attention.  But wary.  Very wary.

She turned down my obsequious and questionably motivated offer to walk her to her car that night. It was a dark night, in a not altogether safe downtown. I was simply concerned about her well being. Right. I was just looking for a chance to spend some private time with this young lovely.

 Later she told me that she had asked a bellman from the hotel where the dinner was held to do the honors. She was questioning my motivations. And rightfully so.

I will spare you devoted readers the tale of how we ended up in bed with one another within about 9 months from that fateful encounter.

But flashing forward through a lengthy affair, two children, marriage, and sidetracks to Florida and other locales, Mistress’s legs are as compelling as ever.

She keeps then in such shapeliness with lots of biking and other forms of exercise. They are weapons of mass seduction that need to be expertly maintained to retain their seductive powers, and she is an expert.

In years past, and on our witch days, I have enjoyed restraining them, ankles tied to opposite sides of the bed, so I can work my hands and mouth up their full length, watching her squim in anticipation.

In my recently discovered status as her Slave, I enjoy kneeling for her,  her legs spread wide, or maybe draped over my shoulders,  gripping my head, as I use my mouth and tongue to show my devotion to her.

I will remain eternally grateful that Mistress had not worn trousers to that fundraising event all those years ago.

Yesterday an anonymous commenter asked if I had ever “taken Molly up the ass”. The answer is “uh….no.” It’s not something either one of us have been into. I suspect it would take some very powerful persuasion to get Molly interested in that particular experience.

 

She's Got Legs....

It may have been Mistress’s long, strong and very shapely legs that made me fall head over heels for her all those years ago.

My first recollection of meeting Molly was at a political fundraising dinner in River City back in the Fall of 1987. She was an (early) 20 something who had recently gone to work for a politico who has since become a rumpled U.S. Senator (yes, he did vote for the health care bill).

I was a late 30’s professional, involved in the local political scene.  It was the age of Reagan and  Iran/Contra. Michael Dukakis had yet to don a combat helmet or ridden in a tank.

We were both married to other people at the time.

I saw her across the room: this young, vibrant beauty with long dark hair, and a stylish short dress that exposed those incredible legs.

Somehow I figured a way to get into her conversational orbit. She must have been chatting up a mutual friend. That was my chance to find out who this heavenly creature with the beautiful legs and luminous smile was. In the conversation that ensued, I can remember commenting on the length of that fashionable dress, how it was something one did not see often in our more conservative, frumpy town.

This was not the sort of conversational theme I would normally have launched into on my first encounter with any woman. But then I was immediately and hopelessly smitten.

She seemed amused, a bit flattered, by my attention.  But wary.  Very wary.

She turned down my obsequious and questionably motivated offer to walk her to her car that night. It was a dark night, in a not altogether safe downtown. I was simply concerned about her well being. Right. I was just looking for a chance to spend some private time with this young lovely.

 Later she told me that she had asked a bellman from the hotel where the dinner was held to do the honors. She was questioning my motivations. And rightfully so.

I will spare you devoted readers the tale of how we ended up in bed with one another within about 9 months from that fateful encounter.

But flashing forward through a lengthy affair, two children, marriage, and sidetracks to Florida and other locales, Mistress’s legs are as compelling as ever.

She keeps then in such shapeliness with lots of biking and other forms of exercise. They are weapons of mass seduction that need to be expertly maintained to retain their seductive powers, and she is an expert.

In years past, and on our witch days, I have enjoyed restraining them, ankles tied to opposite sides of the bed, so I can work my hands and mouth up their full length, watching her squim in anticipation.

In my recently discovered status as her Slave, I enjoy kneeling for her,  her legs spread wide, or maybe draped over my shoulders,  gripping my head, as I use my mouth and tongue to show my devotion to her.

I will remain eternally grateful that Mistress had not worn trousers to that fundraising event all those years ago.

Yesterday an anonymous commenter asked if I had ever “taken Molly up the ass”. The answer is “uh….no.” It’s not something either one of us have been into. I suspect it would take some very powerful persuasion to get Molly interested in that particular experience.

 

Diabolical Fingers

Today’s favorite parts are Mistress’s hands, and particularly those slender, well manicured fingers. She puts them to good use when she strokes my neck on the long drive to our undisclosed destination, or when she uses them to tease at my cock and balls to create a rigid form worthy of her. And of course those hands wield the crop or wooden shoehorn she uses to remind me of my status as her Slave.

The photo is from Sunday's switch, when Mistress was required to submit to her Slave's cropping.

Yesterday Molly put her fingers to good use after a “stressful” day on the slopes.

Mick got in more than his fair share of moguls yesterday, soft and just a tad slushy under the intense Southwestern sun. By the time we slid off the ski boots and headed back down the mountain, we were both ready for some R & R, first out on the patio, soaking up rays while reading books, then back in our bedroom.

“Are you going to fuck me now, Slave?”

“Hmmm….how about a nap first, Mistress. I was nodding off out there.”

Mistress is never one to turn down a nap, and we both dozed a bit before Mistress woke and took a shower. We were taking the teens out to dinner and to hear some local honky tonk music in about an hour. It seemed the window of sex opportunity had closed, and we tentatively agreed we would get back on track after dinner.

But when Mistress got back in bed to read after her shower, my own fingers had trouble keeping away from her smooth shaven parts. It is a wonderful little toy to explore. So I simply toyed with her a bit, while reading my own book.

Soon I could detect some juices beginning to flow. Hmmm.

“Would you like me to worship, Mistress.

“I was wondering when you would ask, Slave.”

I slid off the bed, onto my knees. Mistress shifted a bit, spreading her legs.

I did my work, licking with some urgency, savoring Mistress’s delicious honey. And she dragged it out a bit.

“Suck it, Slave.”

I took her clit between my lips and sucked away to please her, her pink parts no longer encumbered by the thick fur that not long ago would have gotten in my way.

Soon Mistress built herself to a strong, powerful orgasm, moaning as she pumped her hips against my mouth.

At this point, I would have been happy to postpone my own pleasure until later, my body still a bit tired from our day on the mountain. But that’s where Mistress’s fingers came in.

She pushed me back onto the bed and began to fondle and tease me with those lovely digits. At some point her mouth came into play too. Soon I was squirming, begging for the privilege to fuck her.

“I want to be on top, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I was already on my back, and Mistress had no trouble mounting me. When she takes this position, it’s very clear who is in charge. She builds slowly, pressing and rubbing her hips against my swollen cock, moving from slow and sensuous to desperate frenzy. And she was the one who initiated the smutty dialogue.

“How would you like to watch my Dom fuck me, Slave?”

This was a theme we had discussed some over the last few weeks. Sir M has brought it up, but it was also a bit of a fantasy even before he showed up in Mistress’s in box.

“It would be hard, Mistress. But exciting too, I think….”

She’s churning harder against me now, her breathing erratic. Increasingly desperate.

“I’d like you to watch us Slave ….to see you masturbate while he makes me come.”

“Or would you make me wear my cage?”

Her passion is making her voice foggy, farther off now.

“Maybe the cage….you’d be desperate wouldn’t you, Slave?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress. It would drive me crazy. To hear you beg him to come….”

It was about this time that Mistress came, crashing hard against me, moaning, sobbing, tears welling in her eyes, then rolling over, onto her back, still shuddering. It was one of those Mega orgasms, that caught both of us by surprise. Powerful fantasies here.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

And it all started with those diabolical fingers.

Diabolical Fingers

Today’s favorite parts are Mistress’s hands, and particularly those slender, well manicured fingers. She puts them to good use when she strokes my neck on the long drive to our undisclosed destination, or when she uses them to tease at my cock and balls to create a rigid form worthy of her. And of course those hands wield the crop or wooden shoehorn she uses to remind me of my status as her Slave.

The photo is from Sunday's switch, when Mistress was required to submit to her Slave's cropping.

Yesterday Molly put her fingers to good use after a “stressful” day on the slopes.

Mick got in more than his fair share of moguls yesterday, soft and just a tad slushy under the intense Southwestern sun. By the time we slid off the ski boots and headed back down the mountain, we were both ready for some R & R, first out on the patio, soaking up rays while reading books, then back in our bedroom.

“Are you going to fuck me now, Slave?”

“Hmmm….how about a nap first, Mistress. I was nodding off out there.”

Mistress is never one to turn down a nap, and we both dozed a bit before Mistress woke and took a shower. We were taking the teens out to dinner and to hear some local honky tonk music in about an hour. It seemed the window of sex opportunity had closed, and we tentatively agreed we would get back on track after dinner.

But when Mistress got back in bed to read after her shower, my own fingers had trouble keeping away from her smooth shaven parts. It is a wonderful little toy to explore. So I simply toyed with her a bit, while reading my own book.

Soon I could detect some juices beginning to flow. Hmmm.

“Would you like me to worship, Mistress.

“I was wondering when you would ask, Slave.”

I slid off the bed, onto my knees. Mistress shifted a bit, spreading her legs.

I did my work, licking with some urgency, savoring Mistress’s delicious honey. And she dragged it out a bit.

“Suck it, Slave.”

I took her clit between my lips and sucked away to please her, her pink parts no longer encumbered by the thick fur that not long ago would have gotten in my way.

Soon Mistress built herself to a strong, powerful orgasm, moaning as she pumped her hips against my mouth.

At this point, I would have been happy to postpone my own pleasure until later, my body still a bit tired from our day on the mountain. But that’s where Mistress’s fingers came in.

She pushed me back onto the bed and began to fondle and tease me with those lovely digits. At some point her mouth came into play too. Soon I was squirming, begging for the privilege to fuck her.

“I want to be on top, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I was already on my back, and Mistress had no trouble mounting me. When she takes this position, it’s very clear who is in charge. She builds slowly, pressing and rubbing her hips against my swollen cock, moving from slow and sensuous to desperate frenzy. And she was the one who initiated the smutty dialogue.

“How would you like to watch my Dom fuck me, Slave?”

This was a theme we had discussed some over the last few weeks. Sir M has brought it up, but it was also a bit of a fantasy even before he showed up in Mistress’s in box.

“It would be hard, Mistress. But exciting too, I think….”

She’s churning harder against me now, her breathing erratic. Increasingly desperate.

“I’d like you to watch us Slave ….to see you masturbate while he makes me come.”

“Or would you make me wear my cage?”

Her passion is making her voice foggy, farther off now.

“Maybe the cage….you’d be desperate wouldn’t you, Slave?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress. It would drive me crazy. To hear you beg him to come….”

It was about this time that Mistress came, crashing hard against me, moaning, sobbing, tears welling in her eyes, then rolling over, onto her back, still shuddering. It was one of those Mega orgasms, that caught both of us by surprise. Powerful fantasies here.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

And it all started with those diabolical fingers.

Diabolical Fingers

Today’s favorite parts are Mistress’s hands, and particularly those slender, well manicured fingers. She puts them to good use when she strokes my neck on the long drive to our undisclosed destination, or when she uses them to tease at my cock and balls to create a rigid form worthy of her. And of course those hands wield the crop or wooden shoehorn she uses to remind me of my status as her Slave.

The photo is from Sunday's switch, when Mistress was required to submit to her Slave's cropping.

Yesterday Molly put her fingers to good use after a “stressful” day on the slopes.

Mick got in more than his fair share of moguls yesterday, soft and just a tad slushy under the intense Southwestern sun. By the time we slid off the ski boots and headed back down the mountain, we were both ready for some R & R, first out on the patio, soaking up rays while reading books, then back in our bedroom.

“Are you going to fuck me now, Slave?”

“Hmmm….how about a nap first, Mistress. I was nodding off out there.”

Mistress is never one to turn down a nap, and we both dozed a bit before Mistress woke and took a shower. We were taking the teens out to dinner and to hear some local honky tonk music in about an hour. It seemed the window of sex opportunity had closed, and we tentatively agreed we would get back on track after dinner.

But when Mistress got back in bed to read after her shower, my own fingers had trouble keeping away from her smooth shaven parts. It is a wonderful little toy to explore. So I simply toyed with her a bit, while reading my own book.

Soon I could detect some juices beginning to flow. Hmmm.

“Would you like me to worship, Mistress.

“I was wondering when you would ask, Slave.”

I slid off the bed, onto my knees. Mistress shifted a bit, spreading her legs.

I did my work, licking with some urgency, savoring Mistress’s delicious honey. And she dragged it out a bit.

“Suck it, Slave.”

I took her clit between my lips and sucked away to please her, her pink parts no longer encumbered by the thick fur that not long ago would have gotten in my way.

Soon Mistress built herself to a strong, powerful orgasm, moaning as she pumped her hips against my mouth.

At this point, I would have been happy to postpone my own pleasure until later, my body still a bit tired from our day on the mountain. But that’s where Mistress’s fingers came in.

She pushed me back onto the bed and began to fondle and tease me with those lovely digits. At some point her mouth came into play too. Soon I was squirming, begging for the privilege to fuck her.

“I want to be on top, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I was already on my back, and Mistress had no trouble mounting me. When she takes this position, it’s very clear who is in charge. She builds slowly, pressing and rubbing her hips against my swollen cock, moving from slow and sensuous to desperate frenzy. And she was the one who initiated the smutty dialogue.

“How would you like to watch my Dom fuck me, Slave?”

This was a theme we had discussed some over the last few weeks. Sir M has brought it up, but it was also a bit of a fantasy even before he showed up in Mistress’s in box.

“It would be hard, Mistress. But exciting too, I think….”

She’s churning harder against me now, her breathing erratic. Increasingly desperate.

“I’d like you to watch us Slave ….to see you masturbate while he makes me come.”

“Or would you make me wear my cage?”

Her passion is making her voice foggy, farther off now.

“Maybe the cage….you’d be desperate wouldn’t you, Slave?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress. It would drive me crazy. To hear you beg him to come….”

It was about this time that Mistress came, crashing hard against me, moaning, sobbing, tears welling in her eyes, then rolling over, onto her back, still shuddering. It was one of those Mega orgasms, that caught both of us by surprise. Powerful fantasies here.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

And it all started with those diabolical fingers.

Diabolical Fingers

Today’s favorite parts are Mistress’s hands, and particularly those slender, well manicured fingers. She puts them to good use when she strokes my neck on the long drive to our undisclosed destination, or when she uses them to tease at my cock and balls to create a rigid form worthy of her. And of course those hands wield the crop or wooden shoehorn she uses to remind me of my status as her Slave.

The photo is from Sunday's switch, when Mistress was required to submit to her Slave's cropping.

Yesterday Molly put her fingers to good use after a “stressful” day on the slopes.

Mick got in more than his fair share of moguls yesterday, soft and just a tad slushy under the intense Southwestern sun. By the time we slid off the ski boots and headed back down the mountain, we were both ready for some R & R, first out on the patio, soaking up rays while reading books, then back in our bedroom.

“Are you going to fuck me now, Slave?”

“Hmmm….how about a nap first, Mistress. I was nodding off out there.”

Mistress is never one to turn down a nap, and we both dozed a bit before Mistress woke and took a shower. We were taking the teens out to dinner and to hear some local honky tonk music in about an hour. It seemed the window of sex opportunity had closed, and we tentatively agreed we would get back on track after dinner.

But when Mistress got back in bed to read after her shower, my own fingers had trouble keeping away from her smooth shaven parts. It is a wonderful little toy to explore. So I simply toyed with her a bit, while reading my own book.

Soon I could detect some juices beginning to flow. Hmmm.

“Would you like me to worship, Mistress.

“I was wondering when you would ask, Slave.”

I slid off the bed, onto my knees. Mistress shifted a bit, spreading her legs.

I did my work, licking with some urgency, savoring Mistress’s delicious honey. And she dragged it out a bit.

“Suck it, Slave.”

I took her clit between my lips and sucked away to please her, her pink parts no longer encumbered by the thick fur that not long ago would have gotten in my way.

Soon Mistress built herself to a strong, powerful orgasm, moaning as she pumped her hips against my mouth.

At this point, I would have been happy to postpone my own pleasure until later, my body still a bit tired from our day on the mountain. But that’s where Mistress’s fingers came in.

She pushed me back onto the bed and began to fondle and tease me with those lovely digits. At some point her mouth came into play too. Soon I was squirming, begging for the privilege to fuck her.

“I want to be on top, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I was already on my back, and Mistress had no trouble mounting me. When she takes this position, it’s very clear who is in charge. She builds slowly, pressing and rubbing her hips against my swollen cock, moving from slow and sensuous to desperate frenzy. And she was the one who initiated the smutty dialogue.

“How would you like to watch my Dom fuck me, Slave?”

This was a theme we had discussed some over the last few weeks. Sir M has brought it up, but it was also a bit of a fantasy even before he showed up in Mistress’s in box.

“It would be hard, Mistress. But exciting too, I think….”

She’s churning harder against me now, her breathing erratic. Increasingly desperate.

“I’d like you to watch us Slave ….to see you masturbate while he makes me come.”

“Or would you make me wear my cage?”

Her passion is making her voice foggy, farther off now.

“Maybe the cage….you’d be desperate wouldn’t you, Slave?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress. It would drive me crazy. To hear you beg him to come….”

It was about this time that Mistress came, crashing hard against me, moaning, sobbing, tears welling in her eyes, then rolling over, onto her back, still shuddering. It was one of those Mega orgasms, that caught both of us by surprise. Powerful fantasies here.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

And it all started with those diabolical fingers.

The "After" Shot.

Vivid Moon shadows here this morning at our undisclosed location. Mick’s body clock has trouble adjusting to the two hour time shift, so I am up early watching that bright full moon set almost exactly where the sun set so brilliantly last night. And being reminded that no matter where you go, the local NPR station will be into a fundraising drive whenever you want to listen the “Morning Edition.”

Yesterday’s picture of Mistress’s delightful bottom in its pre-waxing mode drew a nice comment from our colleague SFP (who seems to prefer showing legs and breasts at her site, Peacefully Submissive), and also a nice piece of “fan mail” from our friend M, who lives a bit north of here (not to be confused with Sir M, back in River City):

“Wow best picture yet.  Sweet ass yes, but I would say its a highly fuckable ass.  That bottom is just begging to be pulled apart wide open and admired.  Then firmly entered and taken.  Wonderful ass Molly,  Mick you are a very blessed man. “

Indeed, I am. 

Before moving onto another “favorite part”, it seemed fair to do an “after” shot of Mistress’s bottom, which has now been waxed so silkily smooth. But let me set the stage for this delightful photo….

It was our “switch” day. But since we were going skiing, I elected to defer my privileges until après ski.

The sky was cloudless and the snow was still fresh from the weekend dump. By around 2:30 our legs were shot, and the sun called out to Mistress.  We retreated down the mountain, and Mistress was quickly stripped to her black panties and sports bra, lying on a lounge chair on our patio.

(Seeing their mother parading about in her undies naturally brings out groans of disgust from the surly teens …

“but you’re 45 (i.e. at death’s door)….yuck”, from  our 18 year old, who was in a much more revealing bikini.)

While it may only have been about 55 degrees, the heat of the sun made it perfect sunbathing weather. Which is what we did for about 90 minutes, me reading the Times, Molly buried in a book.

But it cooled as the sun got lower, and I suggested it was time for Mistress to face the music. I had warned her earlier that she was due for a spanking.

Back in our bedroom, Mistress whined, but dutifully stripped out of her underwear, lay on the bed, and picked up her laptop to finish her (vanilla) blog of the day. She was being difficult and defiant.

I pulled out the red cuffs, two locks and some rough hemp rope, and ordered Mistress to shut down her computer.

She reluctantly complied, and I locked the cuffs on her slender wrists.

“Now, roll over onto your stomach, Mistress.”

“My, you are getting bossy, Slave.”

“And if your ‘friend’ told you to position yourself in a certain way, what would you do?”

“Exactly what he told me to do Slave.”

“You like that don’t you?”

“I suppose I do.”

She rolled over as directed then, and I used the rope to fix her cuffs to the little eyebolts screwed into each side of the bed. Her arms were now stretched out. Her lovely bottom available to me.

I shot some photos of her, then put the camera down, and picked up the riding crop I had left by the side of the bed.

My first strike to her full and vulnerable bottom came as a surprise.

“Ow….that was … scary,” she pouted, her bottom squirming, legs flailing.

Nothing like the element of surprise to get a temporary subbie’s attention.

Mistress took her medicine well after that, as I applied a series of moderately severe cropping to her bottom until it was a nice cherry red. Her hips were pumping against the pillow I had slid under her. Was she trying to avoid the crop, or to bring herself off? Hard to tell.

Then I put the crop down, lay next to her and used the fingers of both hands, one wedged under her, another toying with her tight little ass, to “generously” give her the orgasm that all that squirming seemed to demand.

By now my cock was firm and ready for her, and she was more than moist enough to accept me as I mounted her from behind.  She moaned as the tip of my cock found her opening, and slowly accessed her, her legs spreading wider to accommodate me.

Mistress came again, more dramatically, as I pumped into her. I like to see her face buried on the sheets and hear those lovely, lusty sounds as I take her that way.

As her breathing returned to normal, I slid out and off her, waiting my turn.

“Will you please roll me over now Slave?”

The “switch” therapy must have worked: she was asking, rather than ordering, at least for the moment.

The "After" Shot.

Vivid Moon shadows here this morning at our undisclosed location. Mick’s body clock has trouble adjusting to the two hour time shift, so I am up early watching that bright full moon set almost exactly where the sun set so brilliantly last night. And being reminded that no matter where you go, the local NPR station will be into a fundraising drive whenever you want to listen the “Morning Edition.”

Yesterday’s picture of Mistress’s delightful bottom in its pre-waxing mode drew a nice comment from our colleague SFP (who seems to prefer showing legs and breasts at her site, Peacefully Submissive), and also a nice piece of “fan mail” from our friend M, who lives a bit north of here (not to be confused with Sir M, back in River City):

“Wow best picture yet.  Sweet ass yes, but I would say its a highly fuckable ass.  That bottom is just begging to be pulled apart wide open and admired.  Then firmly entered and taken.  Wonderful ass Molly,  Mick you are a very blessed man. “

Indeed, I am. 

Before moving onto another “favorite part”, it seemed fair to do an “after” shot of Mistress’s bottom, which has now been waxed so silkily smooth. But let me set the stage for this delightful photo….

It was our “switch” day. But since we were going skiing, I elected to defer my privileges until après ski.

The sky was cloudless and the snow was still fresh from the weekend dump. By around 2:30 our legs were shot, and the sun called out to Mistress.  We retreated down the mountain, and Mistress was quickly stripped to her black panties and sports bra, lying on a lounge chair on our patio.

(Seeing their mother parading about in her undies naturally brings out groans of disgust from the surly teens …

“but you’re 45 (i.e. at death’s door)….yuck”, from  our 18 year old, who was in a much more revealing bikini.)

While it may only have been about 55 degrees, the heat of the sun made it perfect sunbathing weather. Which is what we did for about 90 minutes, me reading the Times, Molly buried in a book.

But it cooled as the sun got lower, and I suggested it was time for Mistress to face the music. I had warned her earlier that she was due for a spanking.

Back in our bedroom, Mistress whined, but dutifully stripped out of her underwear, lay on the bed, and picked up her laptop to finish her (vanilla) blog of the day. She was being difficult and defiant.

I pulled out the red cuffs, two locks and some rough hemp rope, and ordered Mistress to shut down her computer.

She reluctantly complied, and I locked the cuffs on her slender wrists.

“Now, roll over onto your stomach, Mistress.”

“My, you are getting bossy, Slave.”

“And if your ‘friend’ told you to position yourself in a certain way, what would you do?”

“Exactly what he told me to do Slave.”

“You like that don’t you?”

“I suppose I do.”

She rolled over as directed then, and I used the rope to fix her cuffs to the little eyebolts screwed into each side of the bed. Her arms were now stretched out. Her lovely bottom available to me.

I shot some photos of her, then put the camera down, and picked up the riding crop I had left by the side of the bed.

My first strike to her full and vulnerable bottom came as a surprise.

“Ow….that was … scary,” she pouted, her bottom squirming, legs flailing.

Nothing like the element of surprise to get a temporary subbie’s attention.

Mistress took her medicine well after that, as I applied a series of moderately severe cropping to her bottom until it was a nice cherry red. Her hips were pumping against the pillow I had slid under her. Was she trying to avoid the crop, or to bring herself off? Hard to tell.

Then I put the crop down, lay next to her and used the fingers of both hands, one wedged under her, another toying with her tight little ass, to “generously” give her the orgasm that all that squirming seemed to demand.

By now my cock was firm and ready for her, and she was more than moist enough to accept me as I mounted her from behind.  She moaned as the tip of my cock found her opening, and slowly accessed her, her legs spreading wider to accommodate me.

Mistress came again, more dramatically, as I pumped into her. I like to see her face buried on the sheets and hear those lovely, lusty sounds as I take her that way.

As her breathing returned to normal, I slid out and off her, waiting my turn.

“Will you please roll me over now Slave?”

The “switch” therapy must have worked: she was asking, rather than ordering, at least for the moment.

The "After" Shot.

Vivid Moon shadows here this morning at our undisclosed location. Mick’s body clock has trouble adjusting to the two hour time shift, so I am up early watching that bright full moon set almost exactly where the sun set so brilliantly last night. And being reminded that no matter where you go, the local NPR station will be into a fundraising drive whenever you want to listen the “Morning Edition.”

Yesterday’s picture of Mistress’s delightful bottom in its pre-waxing mode drew a nice comment from our colleague SFP (who seems to prefer showing legs and breasts at her site, Peacefully Submissive), and also a nice piece of “fan mail” from our friend M, who lives a bit north of here (not to be confused with Sir M, back in River City):

“Wow best picture yet.  Sweet ass yes, but I would say its a highly fuckable ass.  That bottom is just begging to be pulled apart wide open and admired.  Then firmly entered and taken.  Wonderful ass Molly,  Mick you are a very blessed man. “

Indeed, I am. 

Before moving onto another “favorite part”, it seemed fair to do an “after” shot of Mistress’s bottom, which has now been waxed so silkily smooth. But let me set the stage for this delightful photo….

It was our “switch” day. But since we were going skiing, I elected to defer my privileges until après ski.

The sky was cloudless and the snow was still fresh from the weekend dump. By around 2:30 our legs were shot, and the sun called out to Mistress.  We retreated down the mountain, and Mistress was quickly stripped to her black panties and sports bra, lying on a lounge chair on our patio.

(Seeing their mother parading about in her undies naturally brings out groans of disgust from the surly teens …

“but you’re 45 (i.e. at death’s door)….yuck”, from  our 18 year old, who was in a much more revealing bikini.)

While it may only have been about 55 degrees, the heat of the sun made it perfect sunbathing weather. Which is what we did for about 90 minutes, me reading the Times, Molly buried in a book.

But it cooled as the sun got lower, and I suggested it was time for Mistress to face the music. I had warned her earlier that she was due for a spanking.

Back in our bedroom, Mistress whined, but dutifully stripped out of her underwear, lay on the bed, and picked up her laptop to finish her (vanilla) blog of the day. She was being difficult and defiant.

I pulled out the red cuffs, two locks and some rough hemp rope, and ordered Mistress to shut down her computer.

She reluctantly complied, and I locked the cuffs on her slender wrists.

“Now, roll over onto your stomach, Mistress.”

“My, you are getting bossy, Slave.”

“And if your ‘friend’ told you to position yourself in a certain way, what would you do?”

“Exactly what he told me to do Slave.”

“You like that don’t you?”

“I suppose I do.”

She rolled over as directed then, and I used the rope to fix her cuffs to the little eyebolts screwed into each side of the bed. Her arms were now stretched out. Her lovely bottom available to me.

I shot some photos of her, then put the camera down, and picked up the riding crop I had left by the side of the bed.

My first strike to her full and vulnerable bottom came as a surprise.

“Ow….that was … scary,” she pouted, her bottom squirming, legs flailing.

Nothing like the element of surprise to get a temporary subbie’s attention.

Mistress took her medicine well after that, as I applied a series of moderately severe cropping to her bottom until it was a nice cherry red. Her hips were pumping against the pillow I had slid under her. Was she trying to avoid the crop, or to bring herself off? Hard to tell.

Then I put the crop down, lay next to her and used the fingers of both hands, one wedged under her, another toying with her tight little ass, to “generously” give her the orgasm that all that squirming seemed to demand.

By now my cock was firm and ready for her, and she was more than moist enough to accept me as I mounted her from behind.  She moaned as the tip of my cock found her opening, and slowly accessed her, her legs spreading wider to accommodate me.

Mistress came again, more dramatically, as I pumped into her. I like to see her face buried on the sheets and hear those lovely, lusty sounds as I take her that way.

As her breathing returned to normal, I slid out and off her, waiting my turn.

“Will you please roll me over now Slave?”

The “switch” therapy must have worked: she was asking, rather than ordering, at least for the moment.

The "After" Shot.

Vivid Moon shadows here this morning at our undisclosed location. Mick’s body clock has trouble adjusting to the two hour time shift, so I am up early watching that bright full moon set almost exactly where the sun set so brilliantly last night. And being reminded that no matter where you go, the local NPR station will be into a fundraising drive whenever you want to listen the “Morning Edition.”

Yesterday’s picture of Mistress’s delightful bottom in its pre-waxing mode drew a nice comment from our colleague SFP (who seems to prefer showing legs and breasts at her site, Peacefully Submissive), and also a nice piece of “fan mail” from our friend M, who lives a bit north of here (not to be confused with Sir M, back in River City):

“Wow best picture yet.  Sweet ass yes, but I would say its a highly fuckable ass.  That bottom is just begging to be pulled apart wide open and admired.  Then firmly entered and taken.  Wonderful ass Molly,  Mick you are a very blessed man. “

Indeed, I am. 

Before moving onto another “favorite part”, it seemed fair to do an “after” shot of Mistress’s bottom, which has now been waxed so silkily smooth. But let me set the stage for this delightful photo….

It was our “switch” day. But since we were going skiing, I elected to defer my privileges until après ski.

The sky was cloudless and the snow was still fresh from the weekend dump. By around 2:30 our legs were shot, and the sun called out to Mistress.  We retreated down the mountain, and Mistress was quickly stripped to her black panties and sports bra, lying on a lounge chair on our patio.

(Seeing their mother parading about in her undies naturally brings out groans of disgust from the surly teens …

“but you’re 45 (i.e. at death’s door)….yuck”, from  our 18 year old, who was in a much more revealing bikini.)

While it may only have been about 55 degrees, the heat of the sun made it perfect sunbathing weather. Which is what we did for about 90 minutes, me reading the Times, Molly buried in a book.

But it cooled as the sun got lower, and I suggested it was time for Mistress to face the music. I had warned her earlier that she was due for a spanking.

Back in our bedroom, Mistress whined, but dutifully stripped out of her underwear, lay on the bed, and picked up her laptop to finish her (vanilla) blog of the day. She was being difficult and defiant.

I pulled out the red cuffs, two locks and some rough hemp rope, and ordered Mistress to shut down her computer.

She reluctantly complied, and I locked the cuffs on her slender wrists.

“Now, roll over onto your stomach, Mistress.”

“My, you are getting bossy, Slave.”

“And if your ‘friend’ told you to position yourself in a certain way, what would you do?”

“Exactly what he told me to do Slave.”

“You like that don’t you?”

“I suppose I do.”

She rolled over as directed then, and I used the rope to fix her cuffs to the little eyebolts screwed into each side of the bed. Her arms were now stretched out. Her lovely bottom available to me.

I shot some photos of her, then put the camera down, and picked up the riding crop I had left by the side of the bed.

My first strike to her full and vulnerable bottom came as a surprise.

“Ow….that was … scary,” she pouted, her bottom squirming, legs flailing.

Nothing like the element of surprise to get a temporary subbie’s attention.

Mistress took her medicine well after that, as I applied a series of moderately severe cropping to her bottom until it was a nice cherry red. Her hips were pumping against the pillow I had slid under her. Was she trying to avoid the crop, or to bring herself off? Hard to tell.

Then I put the crop down, lay next to her and used the fingers of both hands, one wedged under her, another toying with her tight little ass, to “generously” give her the orgasm that all that squirming seemed to demand.

By now my cock was firm and ready for her, and she was more than moist enough to accept me as I mounted her from behind.  She moaned as the tip of my cock found her opening, and slowly accessed her, her legs spreading wider to accommodate me.

Mistress came again, more dramatically, as I pumped into her. I like to see her face buried on the sheets and hear those lovely, lusty sounds as I take her that way.

As her breathing returned to normal, I slid out and off her, waiting my turn.

“Will you please roll me over now Slave?”

The “switch” therapy must have worked: she was asking, rather than ordering, at least for the moment.