Fan Mail

Molly and Mick were up a little later than normal Thursday night, watching a sweet, if sappy, movie about Valentine’s Day in LA. And when we finally went to bed, it was not without some sleepy but gratifying love making that put us out, quickly and deeply.

So Slave woke a little later than normal Friday morning, with barely the time to make coffee and retrieve the papers, before Mistress called for me.

“Mick, I’m up….”

Translation: get up here and serve me, pronto, Slave.

In reality, I like that morning “page”. It usually means that Mistress has mischief in mind.


As I came upstairs, I was still a bit sleepy. The coffee had not yet kicked in. But seeing her there, naked, in bed, full breasts, erect nipples, legs askew to show a bit of her fur-less parts, she was overwhelmingly enticing.

And the scent….wow. Mistress was already aroused.

“Did you start without me, Mistress?”

“No, Slave. Why would I do that with your tongue and cock available I paged you for a reason.”


As I settled into bed next to her, the hi-test pheromones she was tossing off quickly shredded my morning malaise. I was almost instantly hard. I could only imagine what had gotten Mistress into such an early morning state of longing. But whatever or whoever, I was happy to exploit it.

“Are you sure you weren’t using the power tool Mistress?”

She laughed.

“No Slave, why don’t you touch it and see if it’s warm. Better yet, smell it.”

I took her word for it, and went to work on her with my mouth. Once that “work” was done, I certainly needed no special handling before plunging in with her permission.

As I exploited my privilege, we talked about how deeply she has fallen under the spell of her new Master, M, fka, our Western Correspondent.

“Well, you gave him the road map, Slave…all the little clues, my weaknesses, there all there for him to pick up in the blog. Why did you do that?”

All of this said through those endearing little gasps and moans…the question was really rhetorical.

“ He does seem to be doing a good job of training you, Mistress.”

Yes, Slave ….. he’s very good at that.”

“I’ll bet you start getting wet when you hear his voice now.”

“Ummm …. Yes, it’s true.”

“He’s conditioning you, Mistress…. Soon you may not be able to come without his permission.”

“Oh…I don’t think so Slave….He wouldn’t do that.”

But as she came for me then, suddenly, and with surprising force, it seemed like there was a slight and very exciting question in her mind about that possibility.

We drove to work together. And between phone calls and some business matters I took the time to write the brief entry in yesterday’s blog.

Later, around lunch time, I received an email from Master M with his comments about the blog, directed at me and his Slave in training:


“Fun blog post again today, Mick. Thanks for the clues, and inspiration. I am going to get around to the begging for orgasm hotness, when we have time, and a leash also sounds like a very good idea,

a very long leash that could be pulled between your legs, Molly.... and held by me hiking behind you. Interesting possibilities there ... don't U think?

And U r right Mick... the sun screen would have to be liberally applied all over Molly ... wouldn't want any burning,,,, better safe than sorry.

Take care U two, M”

It’s good to get some feedback from our biggest “fan”.

But I could imagine Mistress’s reaction at the thought of that leash as she read over his email.

Later, on our ride home, Mistress confessed that she and M had another one of their in the office phone sex encounters. And of course I pumped her for the details.

“I really didn’t think I was in the mood, Slave. I was so busy ….but…”

“Did he require it, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave. One minute we were just talking about our day….and the next minute he’s telling me he is pulling out his cock and that I should go to that little private bathroom where ….I do it for him.”

“I suppose you could have said ‘No’ Mistress…”

“That’s the thing ….I really didn’t feel that I could say no ,,,.”

“And how does it feel to have to do that….to play with yourself that way because he requires it?”

“Degrading, Slave …. Embarrassing ….”

“But your fingers, Mistress. You really couldn’t stop them once he told you it was time?

“No Slave….I really couldn’t.”

I imagined Mistress in this private bathroom, her knickers dangling from an ankle, skirt hiked up, her fingers desperately rubbing her clit, as she pressed her phone to her ear, hearing his smutty story of her submission and his own lustful sounds.

“Maybe we should finish this conversation at home, Mistress.”

And of course, we did, at length, not long thereafter, back in our bed.