Then the text message chime on Mistress’s I-phone went off. It was our Western correspondent, checking in with Molly on his way to an early golf game. (M may be even more into golf than sex, but I am not judging).
As a dutiful assistant in his seduction of Molly, I offered to take a picture for her to share, and snapped one of her breast peaking out from under the lovely black and white silk confection she was wearing.
“This might distract him on that first drive, Mistress.”
She sent it off, and his rapid response reflected his delight.
I thought it might be helpful to get M’s advice on how Mistress should be handled .
“Ask him whether you should be spanked or not spanked this morning, Mistress?”
Mistress giggled, and tapped away.
In a few minutes, the response came back.
“Spanked….definitely. But I have some other ideas too.”
“Yes?”, Mistress responded.
We waited a bit. Was he washing his balls? Ah….golf balls, I mean.
“My assistant should insert that little white probe into your ass and move it in and out as he spanks you.”
Well, of curse I was willing, but Mistress likes to keep her ass virgin, at least for now.
“No….my ass stays out of this action,” she responded. She is going to hard to break on that account. But I am not counting M out.
So I had my instructions, and went to work. The red cuffs were locked on, and Mistress’s hands were affixed over her head. Then she was rolled over toward me. We were cuddled close, her bottom readily accessible. And the spanking began.
I took a good bit of time building it to a nice rosy glow, all the while murmuring in her ear about what M would do to her if he had the chance.
“I suspect he and B would take turns on your bottom, Mistress.”
“I am a little afraid. I think they could be pretty cruel.”
“Well certainly they would spank you harder than me, Mistress. But it might be good for you. And I bet you would like it when they slid their fingers between your legs to see how wet you were.”
“I suppose I would, Slave.”
I did just that from time to time, making Mistress squirm. She was sopping.
Once her bottom showed some nice red marks on each cheek I stood and took a picture. Then showed it to her.
“Let’s send that to M, Slave.”
She is a little tease.
I settled back on the bed and picked up the Hitachi. Mistress did not complain, it’s become her favorite toy, no doubt in part because M is so insistent on its use. A model of orgasmic efficiency, that little power tool.
Mistress was still on her tummy, and I slid the big white bulb between her legs.
“Ahhhh….yes Slave right there.”
She moaned, and ground herself against the tool. Oh, she is so into that feeling. I made sure she had a nice taste of it, then abruptly pulled it away.
“Hey….stop that.”
“What’s the rush, Mistress? We have about an hour before our busy day begins.”
She said some bad things. Petulance becomes her. I slowly reapplied the tool to her, which changed her tune a bit, until I pulled back again.
Her hips were still moving against the bed, frustrated.
“That is so mean.”
“I’ll bet M and B could make you suffer like this for hours, Mistress.”
After a few cycles of this I had her begging for release. The sound of desperation in her voice is so endearing.
Of course, you know how this ends. I am neither cruel nor foolish. And by now my cock was sending a “get on with it fool” message to my hand. I went in for the kill.
And when Mistress is that needy, the first orgasm –thrashing against the bed, leg muscles clenched, pulling at the cord binding her wrists to the bed – is just a prelude to another and another, until she begs me to pull that damn machine away. What a lovely show.
“Fuck me now Slave. I need your cock.”
“Delighted to, Mistress”.
I took her from behind for a while, watching her reddened face pressed into the bed, taking in her addictive aroma as my face pressed against her back. Then finished Iourselves off after rolling her over. She seemed to come at least two more times with those little cries of her’s, before I begged for permission to come as well.
We collapse in a heap, and I think I slept a few minutes on top of her. Both exhausted from our play.
I was thankful that M had jumpstarted me out of my early morning lethargy. The dynamics of this odd, “evil” triangle can lead in unexpected, but very satisfying directions we are learning.
“Hand me my phone, Slave. We need to send M that photo.”
She examined the shot, and approved, poking at the little faux keyboard and sending it off.
“Let’s hope he’s not teeing off when his text chime goes off, Mistress.”
“Oh, that would be even better.”
A few moments later we got his response.
“Wow!”
(There were further adventures Sunday afternoon, but it is now time to awaken Mistress, so that will wait until tomorrow’s entry).
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