Planning My Interrogation

Mistress seemed half part nervous and half part turned on about my announced plans to use my Sunday switch privileges to  interrogate her yesterday. After I showed her the entry about my intentions for her on Saturday morning, she appeared rather anxious to get her “story” out there –

“Oh , those pictures…..yes, I did take them.

…Well I suppose they were intended  for Sir M. ….But the wifi connection back in Florida was bad….then I just, well ….forgot about them, Slave.”

I told her that I did not want to talk about it at all, until I had her suitably “prepped” for my questions.  By that I meant … vulnerable.

As she had read, my head was under the covers, buried between her smooth, thighs, already slick with the combination of her juices and my saliva.

“I think I am going to have you lick me for a while, Slave.”

No problem, there. It’s something I enjoy. And I did. For a while. Until Mistress was churning against my mouth and she exploded with a lovely orgasm.

I asked for permission to fuck her. My cock was hard and ready. And she had me mount her, our conventional approach. But after a while, and as I was getting close she changed the order of battle.

“I want to be on top now, Slave.”

“No problem, Mistress.”

We rolled over, and Mistress began one of those long, slow and steady climbs to the type of climax she controls. It takes some effort, but the results always seem dramatically pleasing to her.

As she ground her cunt against me, my cock buried deep inside her, she asked

“What are you thinking about, Slave?”

Sometimes it takes a while to gather my thoughts in the midst of that sort of action. Was I thinking at all? Or just buried in the sensation of her strong, powerfully sensual body sliding along the length of mine? But I had an obligation to answer:

“Thinking how you did this with your Sir, Mistress….about you grinding so hard against another cock.”

That thought reminded me to play with her breasts, squeezing her nipples, the way she describes Sir M doing to her. Soon Mistress was reaching her crescendo, a muted roar coming from deep in her lungs, her back arching back, then her fingers toying with my balls from above as she came down to earth.  Nice. Very nice.

Later that afternoon, after a visit from my grandson, we retired to bed for a nap, resting up for a late afternoon bike ride, then evening on the town.

Mistress had threatened to fuck me in the ass, but when we woke, we were in a more mellow mood, and found ourselves making  a gentler form of love as the cobwebs cleared.  But then Mistress elected to mount me again.  And repeat the sort of earth moving orgasm that she had in the morning.

Our conversation turned to our Western correspondent, M, who had confirmed via email that he would be more than delighted to fuck Molly, but only with his very dominant wife’s permission:

“I bet you would like them both take charge of you, wouldn’t you Mistress?”

“That would be … ummm ….interesting, Slave.”

Yes , it certainly would. I imagined Mistress tied to a bed somewhere, these two randy and domineering westerners taking turns tormenting, then driving my mistress to erotic distraction. Again and again. They even have their own Magic Wand. Mistress likes that power tool.

Soon Mistress had built her slow ans steady pace on top of me to a frenzy, collapsing against me. Then we reversed positions and it was my turn to share in the fireworks.

That evening, we headed for a sushi dinner with some friends in an old neighborhood getting back on its feet with the help of some urban pioneers. On the way, Mistress again questioned me on my plans for her this morning.

“What do you think I have to confess, Slave?”

“Well we will find that out in the morning, Mistress.”

“Since you seem to get off on me fucking other men, why wouldn’t I tell you about anything that was going on?”

“That’s what we need to get to the bottom of Mistress….”

“What if I just make something up to get you to relent?”

“I hear that happens all the time, Mistress.  Then I will have to question you more, and see if I can verify your story…. This could take a while.”

All of this was getting her flustered. And hot, I suspect.

And the really good news: the surly teens spent the night with friends. Any screams of  pleasure or pain will fall on deaf ears. Wish I knew where you could rent a waterboard by the hour.

Can you hear my evil laugh?