Mistress and our Western correspondent were at it again Saturday.
At around noon I arrived home from some morning errands, young grandson in tow. It was his day to hang out with “grampy”. I could see Mistress up on the deck. Stripped down to shorts and sports bra, taking in some of the sun peeking through heavy humid clouds. She had her phone to her ear.
She stood, smiled down at me. “It’s Mike …. He wants to know when we might be available this afternoon.”
Hmmm. So the question was….did Slave want to sit in as Mistress had suggested, bound to a chair, and watch the next act in their remote, mutual seduction. Or would I choose to pass, let them have their fun, and hear about it later.
Hard choice. But I opted for door number two: despite my overwhelming curiosity, I was thinking that M needs to train Mistress a bit more deeply – get her compulsively hooked on the command and control of his voice, before I joined the party. At least that was my choice on a day when I was given a choice. Mistress certainly had the authority to tell me exactly what to do, at least until she surrenders that authority to someone else.
“Why don’t you proceed without me today Mistress. Of course, I could be downstairs…somewhere else in the house.”
Now into the phone: “He says he does not need to sit in today….but could be downstairs.”
The rest I did not hear as Mistress sat back down in her chair. The thought that they were excitedly planning their afternoon “cyber-date” had my cock getting all thick and needy, even as I was unloading some groceries and the little grandson.
Later that afternoon, I announced I was taking him to his next stop. Mistress kissed us both goodbye, and I could tell she was moving onto her next engagement.
“Looking forward to your report.”
She gave me a hug and another kiss, with a bit of tongue thrown in. Then a whisper into my ear.
“Oh you will hear ALL the details, Slave. And then I’m going to fuck you in the ass.”
Yikes. I tried to put that out of my mind so I could focus on the drive to the next set of grandparents’ home, where they would take over grandson duties. But the drive back seemed interminable. My mind was filled with images of Mistress, guiding the Hitachi between her legs under his command. And the plans she had in store for me afterwards.
At home I found Mistress on the deck again, phone in hand.
“Well, Mick’s home now, so I guess I should hang up. We have some plans….”
She laughed, then signed off, that “cat that ate the canary” look in her eyes once again. Then she turned to me.
“Why don’t we go upstairs, Slave.”
“Of course, Mistress.”
In our room, she lounged on the bed, stripped to sports bra, but nothing else.
“Why don’t you fetch my harness and strap-on, Slave. I’m going to need it after I tell you how things went with M.”
I dug her equipment out of the closet, found the lubricant, and began my Q and A as she was sliding into it and tightening the belt. Mistress looked very dominant once she was fully suited up. Then she settled into bed next to me.
“So how did it go, Mistress?”
“Good slave …except I probably came too fast ….he didn’t get to finish the story.”
“How were you dressed, Mistress?”
“He asked that…in a sports bra, but nothing else.”
“And what did he tell you to do first, Mistress?”
“Turn on the Hitachi and put it against my clit, Slave.”
“Ahhh. The direct approach.”
By now Mistress’s hand had drifted to my cock. Her newly polished nails drifting oh so lightly along it’s expanding length. This was the indirect – drive slave crazy approach.
“Yes, he’s very direct. Knows exactly how to call the shots, Slave.”
Of course, she knew that this was driving me crazy, as I involuntarily pumped myself against her hand seemed to tighten its grip. Argh.
“And the story, Mistress? What did he come up with?”
M had told her on Friday that he had taken things into his own hands, so to speak, while mentally composing the story he would tell her. And of course Mistress got very turned on at the thought of our Western correspondent taking time from his busy day to jack off with thoughts of her in his head. What proud and sexy woman would not?
“He had me getting on a flight to Denver. Checking into a hotel. When he and B called to say they were coming up, I was to be naked and wait for them.”
I imagined the scene, Mistress stripping, anxiously awaiting. Maybe told to kneel and await them. Or perched on the bed, on all fours.
“And then Mistress, what did they do to you?”
“They arrived. Inspected me. It was all very humiliating.”
In my mind, Mistress was held by one of them, arms pinned behind her back, as the other used fingers to explore, pinch and probe all the good parts, slowly turning my Mistress into their squirming, leaking slave.
“But you would have been very turned on, I’ll bet, Mistress.”
“I am sure I would be, Slave.”
Her fingers were still gripping me. I was using teeth to gnaw on her hard nipples. We were both writhing a bit. Not wanting to rush to the next phase until the story was done.”
“And what else did the story include, Mistress?”
“I was told to lick B, make her very wet. Then M would fuck her a bit while I watched. At that point I was told to clean the juices off of M’s cock with my mouth.”
“How would that taste, Mistress?”
“Good Slave…very good.”
“and while he was telling you the story, Mistress, was he telling you what to do with the power tool.?
“Yes… pressed and moving against my clit, Slave…..it’s around then that I came….he said it was too fast. He didn’t get to finish the story….”
“That is a shame….Did he make you beg.”
“Yes, I was required to call him Sir, and to ask permission, Slave.”
“And did he say ‘yes’….”
“Of course, Slave, I would not have come otherwise.”
I was imagining what would happen if M had said “No”, or if he had told her to turn off the Hitachi once or twice during the proceedings, to extend Mistress’s ‘misery’…make her beg a little more, grovel a little deeper. Now that would have been very interesting to watch.
By now both of us had had enough of all this talk.
“Get in position, Slave. It’s that time.”
She stood, smeared some lubricant on her tool, as I slid onto that little too puffy belly you all saw on Friday, a pillow under me to give her the right angle of attack.
She repositioned me a bit and then climbed on top, efficiently finding her mark.
“How’s that Slave?”, she whispered, her mouth not far from my ear, as she gently then more forcefully began her assault.
“Good Mistress ….I suppose I need this every now and then…”
“Why Slave?”
“To remind me….”
“To remind you of what, Slave?”
She was taking me harder now, more deeply. And I could tell she was close.
“That I am yours, Mistress. That you are in charge…. You can use me for your pleasure as you wish.”
About this time Mistress had a shuddering moaning mini-orgasm, then she slowed a bit, before picking up the pace, leading to a stronger one that left her gasping at rest on top of me. After a moment she tossed her harness on the floor.
“Put in your device, Slave. Then get back here and fuck me….”
And I was anxious to do just that.
Later that evening, after a stop at a relative’s home for a cook-out we headed to a local bar, populated by a younger crowd out to hear a local rock band. It seemed that at every table one or more of the 20 and 30 something’s had their “electronics” out, tapping away. So it was not too bizarre for us to pull out our own devices as we waited for the band to end an interminable sound check.
Mistress scanned her texts and emails, and composed one for our Western correspondent. She showed me her message before hitting send:
“Mick is good with all this. I am willing to hop on a flight out west anytime. That’s the kind of babe I am. I live to serve. Sweet dreams. Molly.”
Yes, she is a woman of action. That’s my Mistress.
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