Molly and Mick Have a Literary Adventure

Yesterday Molly and Mick took a little literary detour after a vigorous 20 mile bike ride in a beautiful but little used federal park not far from our mountain hideaway.

Our destination was up a 5 mile dirt road, on a hillside in a pine forest on the slopes of the Sangre de Christo mountains.

At the end of this road sits a former goat ranch, carved out of a pine forest. Hand cut logs were used by 19th Century settlers to build a handful of rustic cabins, and a rambling cottage that was occupied for several years by a literary lion of the early 20th Century: D.H. Lawrence.

After Lawrence’s day, Georgia O’Keefe spent time on her back under a towering tree, painting a work she titled “Lawrence’s Tree.”

We saw the memorial his wife Frieda built for Lawrence years after his death, his ashes mixed into the concrete so former or would be lovers could not spirit him away.

Romantic, no?

Molly and Mick strolled around the grounds, gaping at the giant tree O’Keefe had painted, and sitting on the front porch that Lawrence, Frieda and the artist Dorothy Brett had surely occupied in their day, on similar sunny but cool summer afternoons. And we must have been infected by the writer’s sensual temperament.

“How would you like some worship, Mistress?”

“Here, Slave…..?”, she said with mock surprise, as she sat on a little bench, built into a corner of Lawrence’s porch.

There was no one else around. We were the only visitors. If there was a staff patrolling the grounds, we had not seen them. Presumably we would hear them coming, right?

Without further discussion, Mistress slid off her tight black riding shorts, fumbling a bit to get them over and off her riding shoes. Her, by now, well tanned cunt was perched at the edge of the bench, readily available for my attention. And I fell to my knees on the hard and worn wooden floor.

Fortunately, it did not take too much attention with my lips and tongue to get Mistress to the point where her hips convulsed against my mouth, and she moaned with delight, squirming away from my probing tongue.

“That’s enough, Slave”, she said, her face a pleasant shade of red. Then she had a proposition for me.

“Would you like to fuck me here, right now, Slave?”

But that might be pressing our luck. And that bench did not seem all that comfortable for the use Mistress proposed. I did not want either one of us to acquire splinters for our bottoms.

But Mistress gave me a rain check, which I collected later that afternoon. And Mistress rewarded me by requiring me to insert that little white probe.

“I need a particularly hard cock this afternoon, Slave.”

I was able to deliver, and Mistress seemed to enjoy riding it to one of those special, heartfelt orgasms that make a Slave proud.

Maybe she had been infected by the spirit of Lady Chatterly. though I think my mistress could show her a thing or two.

Afterwards, we drifted off for a nice nap, and showered for a dinner engagement with some friends. But before we were off for the evening, Mistress received a text from her long distance Master.

“He wants to talk a bit, Slave.”

“No problem, Mistress.”

Mistress was naked, as has been her practice this week. And she settled onto a chaise on our patio, visible only to some decorative horses in the pasture out back. (They have gotten an eyeful this week).

But as I was dressing, Mistress popped back into the house.

She had sunglasses on but nothing else, her hair still damp from the shower. And a very wide grin.

“Could you fetch me the Hitachi, Slave?”

Ah, so it would be that type of chat. I dutifully arranged the extension cord and power tool for her, making sure it was operating properly. Then left Mistress and M to their fun.

I tended to some work on my computer. Mistress and M chatted away. But soon she was back in the house looking for me.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Only one today Slave….he just got home. Said he would masturbate and think of me.”

“I think you like inspiring that sort of behavior, don’t you Mistress…. You like the thought of him playing with his cock, obsessing about you….”

“It’s … nice, Slave. Very nice.” But Mistress’s wide smile said something more than “nice.”

Somehow, somewhere, I sense that D.H. Lawrence would approve.

Molly and Mick Have a Literary Adventure

Yesterday Molly and Mick took a little literary detour after a vigorous 20 mile bike ride in a beautiful but little used federal park not far from our mountain hideaway.

Our destination was up a 5 mile dirt road, on a hillside in a pine forest on the slopes of the Sangre de Christo mountains.

At the end of this road sits a former goat ranch, carved out of a pine forest. Hand cut logs were used by 19th Century settlers to build a handful of rustic cabins, and a rambling cottage that was occupied for several years by a literary lion of the early 20th Century: D.H. Lawrence.

After Lawrence’s day, Georgia O’Keefe spent time on her back under a towering tree, painting a work she titled “Lawrence’s Tree.”

We saw the memorial his wife Frieda built for Lawrence years after his death, his ashes mixed into the concrete so former or would be lovers could not spirit him away.

Romantic, no?

Molly and Mick strolled around the grounds, gaping at the giant tree O’Keefe had painted, and sitting on the front porch that Lawrence, Frieda and the artist Dorothy Brett had surely occupied in their day, on similar sunny but cool summer afternoons. And we must have been infected by the writer’s sensual temperament.

“How would you like some worship, Mistress?”

“Here, Slave…..?”, she said with mock surprise, as she sat on a little bench, built into a corner of Lawrence’s porch.

There was no one else around. We were the only visitors. If there was a staff patrolling the grounds, we had not seen them. Presumably we would hear them coming, right?

Without further discussion, Mistress slid off her tight black riding shorts, fumbling a bit to get them over and off her riding shoes. Her, by now, well tanned cunt was perched at the edge of the bench, readily available for my attention. And I fell to my knees on the hard and worn wooden floor.

Fortunately, it did not take too much attention with my lips and tongue to get Mistress to the point where her hips convulsed against my mouth, and she moaned with delight, squirming away from my probing tongue.

“That’s enough, Slave”, she said, her face a pleasant shade of red. Then she had a proposition for me.

“Would you like to fuck me here, right now, Slave?”

But that might be pressing our luck. And that bench did not seem all that comfortable for the use Mistress proposed. I did not want either one of us to acquire splinters for our bottoms.

But Mistress gave me a rain check, which I collected later that afternoon. And Mistress rewarded me by requiring me to insert that little white probe.

“I need a particularly hard cock this afternoon, Slave.”

I was able to deliver, and Mistress seemed to enjoy riding it to one of those special, heartfelt orgasms that make a Slave proud.

Maybe she had been infected by the spirit of Lady Chatterly. though I think my mistress could show her a thing or two.

Afterwards, we drifted off for a nice nap, and showered for a dinner engagement with some friends. But before we were off for the evening, Mistress received a text from her long distance Master.

“He wants to talk a bit, Slave.”

“No problem, Mistress.”

Mistress was naked, as has been her practice this week. And she settled onto a chaise on our patio, visible only to some decorative horses in the pasture out back. (They have gotten an eyeful this week).

But as I was dressing, Mistress popped back into the house.

She had sunglasses on but nothing else, her hair still damp from the shower. And a very wide grin.

“Could you fetch me the Hitachi, Slave?”

Ah, so it would be that type of chat. I dutifully arranged the extension cord and power tool for her, making sure it was operating properly. Then left Mistress and M to their fun.

I tended to some work on my computer. Mistress and M chatted away. But soon she was back in the house looking for me.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Only one today Slave….he just got home. Said he would masturbate and think of me.”

“I think you like inspiring that sort of behavior, don’t you Mistress…. You like the thought of him playing with his cock, obsessing about you….”

“It’s … nice, Slave. Very nice.” But Mistress’s wide smile said something more than “nice.”

Somehow, somewhere, I sense that D.H. Lawrence would approve.

Molly and Mick Have a Literary Adventure

Yesterday Molly and Mick took a little literary detour after a vigorous 20 mile bike ride in a beautiful but little used federal park not far from our mountain hideaway.

Our destination was up a 5 mile dirt road, on a hillside in a pine forest on the slopes of the Sangre de Christo mountains.

At the end of this road sits a former goat ranch, carved out of a pine forest. Hand cut logs were used by 19th Century settlers to build a handful of rustic cabins, and a rambling cottage that was occupied for several years by a literary lion of the early 20th Century: D.H. Lawrence.

After Lawrence’s day, Georgia O’Keefe spent time on her back under a towering tree, painting a work she titled “Lawrence’s Tree.”

We saw the memorial his wife Frieda built for Lawrence years after his death, his ashes mixed into the concrete so former or would be lovers could not spirit him away.

Romantic, no?

Molly and Mick strolled around the grounds, gaping at the giant tree O’Keefe had painted, and sitting on the front porch that Lawrence, Frieda and the artist Dorothy Brett had surely occupied in their day, on similar sunny but cool summer afternoons. And we must have been infected by the writer’s sensual temperament.

“How would you like some worship, Mistress?”

“Here, Slave…..?”, she said with mock surprise, as she sat on a little bench, built into a corner of Lawrence’s porch.

There was no one else around. We were the only visitors. If there was a staff patrolling the grounds, we had not seen them. Presumably we would hear them coming, right?

Without further discussion, Mistress slid off her tight black riding shorts, fumbling a bit to get them over and off her riding shoes. Her, by now, well tanned cunt was perched at the edge of the bench, readily available for my attention. And I fell to my knees on the hard and worn wooden floor.

Fortunately, it did not take too much attention with my lips and tongue to get Mistress to the point where her hips convulsed against my mouth, and she moaned with delight, squirming away from my probing tongue.

“That’s enough, Slave”, she said, her face a pleasant shade of red. Then she had a proposition for me.

“Would you like to fuck me here, right now, Slave?”

But that might be pressing our luck. And that bench did not seem all that comfortable for the use Mistress proposed. I did not want either one of us to acquire splinters for our bottoms.

But Mistress gave me a rain check, which I collected later that afternoon. And Mistress rewarded me by requiring me to insert that little white probe.

“I need a particularly hard cock this afternoon, Slave.”

I was able to deliver, and Mistress seemed to enjoy riding it to one of those special, heartfelt orgasms that make a Slave proud.

Maybe she had been infected by the spirit of Lady Chatterly. though I think my mistress could show her a thing or two.

Afterwards, we drifted off for a nice nap, and showered for a dinner engagement with some friends. But before we were off for the evening, Mistress received a text from her long distance Master.

“He wants to talk a bit, Slave.”

“No problem, Mistress.”

Mistress was naked, as has been her practice this week. And she settled onto a chaise on our patio, visible only to some decorative horses in the pasture out back. (They have gotten an eyeful this week).

But as I was dressing, Mistress popped back into the house.

She had sunglasses on but nothing else, her hair still damp from the shower. And a very wide grin.

“Could you fetch me the Hitachi, Slave?”

Ah, so it would be that type of chat. I dutifully arranged the extension cord and power tool for her, making sure it was operating properly. Then left Mistress and M to their fun.

I tended to some work on my computer. Mistress and M chatted away. But soon she was back in the house looking for me.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Only one today Slave….he just got home. Said he would masturbate and think of me.”

“I think you like inspiring that sort of behavior, don’t you Mistress…. You like the thought of him playing with his cock, obsessing about you….”

“It’s … nice, Slave. Very nice.” But Mistress’s wide smile said something more than “nice.”

Somehow, somewhere, I sense that D.H. Lawrence would approve.

Molly and Mick Have a Literary Adventure

Yesterday Molly and Mick took a little literary detour after a vigorous 20 mile bike ride in a beautiful but little used federal park not far from our mountain hideaway.

Our destination was up a 5 mile dirt road, on a hillside in a pine forest on the slopes of the Sangre de Christo mountains.

At the end of this road sits a former goat ranch, carved out of a pine forest. Hand cut logs were used by 19th Century settlers to build a handful of rustic cabins, and a rambling cottage that was occupied for several years by a literary lion of the early 20th Century: D.H. Lawrence.

After Lawrence’s day, Georgia O’Keefe spent time on her back under a towering tree, painting a work she titled “Lawrence’s Tree.”

We saw the memorial his wife Frieda built for Lawrence years after his death, his ashes mixed into the concrete so former or would be lovers could not spirit him away.

Romantic, no?

Molly and Mick strolled around the grounds, gaping at the giant tree O’Keefe had painted, and sitting on the front porch that Lawrence, Frieda and the artist Dorothy Brett had surely occupied in their day, on similar sunny but cool summer afternoons. And we must have been infected by the writer’s sensual temperament.

“How would you like some worship, Mistress?”

“Here, Slave…..?”, she said with mock surprise, as she sat on a little bench, built into a corner of Lawrence’s porch.

There was no one else around. We were the only visitors. If there was a staff patrolling the grounds, we had not seen them. Presumably we would hear them coming, right?

Without further discussion, Mistress slid off her tight black riding shorts, fumbling a bit to get them over and off her riding shoes. Her, by now, well tanned cunt was perched at the edge of the bench, readily available for my attention. And I fell to my knees on the hard and worn wooden floor.

Fortunately, it did not take too much attention with my lips and tongue to get Mistress to the point where her hips convulsed against my mouth, and she moaned with delight, squirming away from my probing tongue.

“That’s enough, Slave”, she said, her face a pleasant shade of red. Then she had a proposition for me.

“Would you like to fuck me here, right now, Slave?”

But that might be pressing our luck. And that bench did not seem all that comfortable for the use Mistress proposed. I did not want either one of us to acquire splinters for our bottoms.

But Mistress gave me a rain check, which I collected later that afternoon. And Mistress rewarded me by requiring me to insert that little white probe.

“I need a particularly hard cock this afternoon, Slave.”

I was able to deliver, and Mistress seemed to enjoy riding it to one of those special, heartfelt orgasms that make a Slave proud.

Maybe she had been infected by the spirit of Lady Chatterly. though I think my mistress could show her a thing or two.

Afterwards, we drifted off for a nice nap, and showered for a dinner engagement with some friends. But before we were off for the evening, Mistress received a text from her long distance Master.

“He wants to talk a bit, Slave.”

“No problem, Mistress.”

Mistress was naked, as has been her practice this week. And she settled onto a chaise on our patio, visible only to some decorative horses in the pasture out back. (They have gotten an eyeful this week).

But as I was dressing, Mistress popped back into the house.

She had sunglasses on but nothing else, her hair still damp from the shower. And a very wide grin.

“Could you fetch me the Hitachi, Slave?”

Ah, so it would be that type of chat. I dutifully arranged the extension cord and power tool for her, making sure it was operating properly. Then left Mistress and M to their fun.

I tended to some work on my computer. Mistress and M chatted away. But soon she was back in the house looking for me.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Only one today Slave….he just got home. Said he would masturbate and think of me.”

“I think you like inspiring that sort of behavior, don’t you Mistress…. You like the thought of him playing with his cock, obsessing about you….”

“It’s … nice, Slave. Very nice.” But Mistress’s wide smile said something more than “nice.”

Somehow, somewhere, I sense that D.H. Lawrence would approve.

In Negotiations

This blog got started after Molly and Mick entered into a very detailed contract requiring my rather thorough and complete submission to Mistress’s will. We negotiated the terms after I prepared a draft using elements from other similar agreements found on the internet.

But we also included a renewal option that would allow me to cancel or ask for changes to the contract once a year, on a date in mid-July (our wedding anniversary).

I mentioned this approaching date to Mistress yesterday. Of course, I have no plans to cancel the contract. It’s been a very healthy development for our marriage, and some elements – including Mistress’s right to enjoy the attentions of others – have acted as quite an unanticipated accelerant for our sex lives, as our regular readers no doubt can tell.

And while the contract certainly allows Mistress to take some extreme liberties at my expense, she has been abundantly merciful. It seems I rarely am required to wear my cock cage these days, primarily because we drive to and from work together. Nor have I been leased to another Mistress.

But no contract is perfect. Surely it could use some enhancement. So when I mentioned the upcoming date, I asked Mistress if she wanted to make any changes for her benefit, since I have no requests for amendments on my own behalf.

And she asked for some assistance, from our Western Correspondent.

Mistress was sunbathing nude on our patio, reading a book. Slave was doing some actual work on my laptop, under the portal and in the shade.

Then her phone rang. It was M, checking in on her morning activities.

Here’s how I heard Mistress’s side of the conversation.

“So Slave reminds me that our contract is coming up for renewal. There is one day a year when he can get out, or ask for changes.”

“He says he doesn’t want out. Isn’t that right, Slave.”

I can speak when spoken to under these circumstance.

“Of course, Mistress.”.

“But I am thinking, maybe I should make some changes…what do you think?”

“Yes, I suppose I could use your advice. Maybe I should retain you as my special counsel.”

“Great….Slave forward the contract to me so I can pass it onto M….he’s going to look it over and see if any of the terms need to be ‘tightened up’.

‘Of course, you might want to tighten up the contract on me….right now I can have sex with anyone I want…isn’t that right, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress…of course.”

“But I bet you’d like to limit that to only you, wouldn’t you, M?”

Mistress laughs. A very seductive laugh. She’s squirming a bit on her chair. This talk is making her as hot as it is me, I suspect.

“Well I guess that would have to be in a contract between you and me…. Without that, I don’t think I am ready to give up my freedom just yet.”.

No doubt this had M’s brain buzzing a bit.

I forwarded the contract to Mistress as required. I went back to my work, then we took a long bike ride.

That afternoon we were settled back on our patio again. Mistress was back in her au natural state. Getting her private parts all nice and brown to match the rest of her.

But her I-phone was in hand again.

“Ummm…Slave. M texted me. He must be busy at work, but he wants me to …masturbate….now.”

I smile. Clever M. He does have a way of pulling Mistress’s strings. And she was happy to comply with his command.

“Would you like me to get the power tool, Mistress?”

“Yes….that would be nice Slave.”

I found the device, ran the long extension cord out to Mistress, plugged it in for her and made sure it was in operating condition.

I considered offering to do the “dirty work” for her. But I figured M had demanded masturbation, and who was I to interfere.

“Do you mind if I watch, Mistress?”

“No Slave….I insist that you watch.”

I settled into a nearby chair. Attentive.

Mistress spread her legs a bit, lay her head back on the chaise, and applied the soft churning ball at the apex of her two well tanned and shapely legs.

“Mmmmm…..this machine is amazing.”

Her hips was beginning to squirm from side to side, her wrist working it just so to find the best angle of attack.

“Is this a little strange, Slave? Me masturbating just because he tells me to?”

“Not if it makes you happy, Mistress.”

It certainly seemed to being making her happy.

“Did he tell you to think of anything in particular, Mistress?”

“Yes….he told me to think about him pushing me over his desk and fucking me then and there ….from behind.”

The thought seemed to engage Mistress in just the right way…she came with a sudden moan, writhing against her device, the muscles in her forearm rippling a bit as she held on for dear life.

Her eyes opened, she smiled that well fucked smile I have come to know.

“Did you like the show, Slave.”

“It was very entertaining, Mistress.”

And, of course, Mistress texted back to M that her mission had been accomplished.

“

In Negotiations

This blog got started after Molly and Mick entered into a very detailed contract requiring my rather thorough and complete submission to Mistress’s will. We negotiated the terms after I prepared a draft using elements from other similar agreements found on the internet.

But we also included a renewal option that would allow me to cancel or ask for changes to the contract once a year, on a date in mid-July (our wedding anniversary).

I mentioned this approaching date to Mistress yesterday. Of course, I have no plans to cancel the contract. It’s been a very healthy development for our marriage, and some elements – including Mistress’s right to enjoy the attentions of others – have acted as quite an unanticipated accelerant for our sex lives, as our regular readers no doubt can tell.

And while the contract certainly allows Mistress to take some extreme liberties at my expense, she has been abundantly merciful. It seems I rarely am required to wear my cock cage these days, primarily because we drive to and from work together. Nor have I been leased to another Mistress.

But no contract is perfect. Surely it could use some enhancement. So when I mentioned the upcoming date, I asked Mistress if she wanted to make any changes for her benefit, since I have no requests for amendments on my own behalf.

And she asked for some assistance, from our Western Correspondent.

Mistress was sunbathing nude on our patio, reading a book. Slave was doing some actual work on my laptop, under the portal and in the shade.

Then her phone rang. It was M, checking in on her morning activities.

Here’s how I heard Mistress’s side of the conversation.

“So Slave reminds me that our contract is coming up for renewal. There is one day a year when he can get out, or ask for changes.”

“He says he doesn’t want out. Isn’t that right, Slave.”

I can speak when spoken to under these circumstance.

“Of course, Mistress.”.

“But I am thinking, maybe I should make some changes…what do you think?”

“Yes, I suppose I could use your advice. Maybe I should retain you as my special counsel.”

“Great….Slave forward the contract to me so I can pass it onto M….he’s going to look it over and see if any of the terms need to be ‘tightened up’.

‘Of course, you might want to tighten up the contract on me….right now I can have sex with anyone I want…isn’t that right, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress…of course.”

“But I bet you’d like to limit that to only you, wouldn’t you, M?”

Mistress laughs. A very seductive laugh. She’s squirming a bit on her chair. This talk is making her as hot as it is me, I suspect.

“Well I guess that would have to be in a contract between you and me…. Without that, I don’t think I am ready to give up my freedom just yet.”.

No doubt this had M’s brain buzzing a bit.

I forwarded the contract to Mistress as required. I went back to my work, then we took a long bike ride.

That afternoon we were settled back on our patio again. Mistress was back in her au natural state. Getting her private parts all nice and brown to match the rest of her.

But her I-phone was in hand again.

“Ummm…Slave. M texted me. He must be busy at work, but he wants me to …masturbate….now.”

I smile. Clever M. He does have a way of pulling Mistress’s strings. And she was happy to comply with his command.

“Would you like me to get the power tool, Mistress?”

“Yes….that would be nice Slave.”

I found the device, ran the long extension cord out to Mistress, plugged it in for her and made sure it was in operating condition.

I considered offering to do the “dirty work” for her. But I figured M had demanded masturbation, and who was I to interfere.

“Do you mind if I watch, Mistress?”

“No Slave….I insist that you watch.”

I settled into a nearby chair. Attentive.

Mistress spread her legs a bit, lay her head back on the chaise, and applied the soft churning ball at the apex of her two well tanned and shapely legs.

“Mmmmm…..this machine is amazing.”

Her hips was beginning to squirm from side to side, her wrist working it just so to find the best angle of attack.

“Is this a little strange, Slave? Me masturbating just because he tells me to?”

“Not if it makes you happy, Mistress.”

It certainly seemed to being making her happy.

“Did he tell you to think of anything in particular, Mistress?”

“Yes….he told me to think about him pushing me over his desk and fucking me then and there ….from behind.”

The thought seemed to engage Mistress in just the right way…she came with a sudden moan, writhing against her device, the muscles in her forearm rippling a bit as she held on for dear life.

Her eyes opened, she smiled that well fucked smile I have come to know.

“Did you like the show, Slave.”

“It was very entertaining, Mistress.”

And, of course, Mistress texted back to M that her mission had been accomplished.

“

In Negotiations

This blog got started after Molly and Mick entered into a very detailed contract requiring my rather thorough and complete submission to Mistress’s will. We negotiated the terms after I prepared a draft using elements from other similar agreements found on the internet.

But we also included a renewal option that would allow me to cancel or ask for changes to the contract once a year, on a date in mid-July (our wedding anniversary).

I mentioned this approaching date to Mistress yesterday. Of course, I have no plans to cancel the contract. It’s been a very healthy development for our marriage, and some elements – including Mistress’s right to enjoy the attentions of others – have acted as quite an unanticipated accelerant for our sex lives, as our regular readers no doubt can tell.

And while the contract certainly allows Mistress to take some extreme liberties at my expense, she has been abundantly merciful. It seems I rarely am required to wear my cock cage these days, primarily because we drive to and from work together. Nor have I been leased to another Mistress.

But no contract is perfect. Surely it could use some enhancement. So when I mentioned the upcoming date, I asked Mistress if she wanted to make any changes for her benefit, since I have no requests for amendments on my own behalf.

And she asked for some assistance, from our Western Correspondent.

Mistress was sunbathing nude on our patio, reading a book. Slave was doing some actual work on my laptop, under the portal and in the shade.

Then her phone rang. It was M, checking in on her morning activities.

Here’s how I heard Mistress’s side of the conversation.

“So Slave reminds me that our contract is coming up for renewal. There is one day a year when he can get out, or ask for changes.”

“He says he doesn’t want out. Isn’t that right, Slave.”

I can speak when spoken to under these circumstance.

“Of course, Mistress.”.

“But I am thinking, maybe I should make some changes…what do you think?”

“Yes, I suppose I could use your advice. Maybe I should retain you as my special counsel.”

“Great….Slave forward the contract to me so I can pass it onto M….he’s going to look it over and see if any of the terms need to be ‘tightened up’.

‘Of course, you might want to tighten up the contract on me….right now I can have sex with anyone I want…isn’t that right, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress…of course.”

“But I bet you’d like to limit that to only you, wouldn’t you, M?”

Mistress laughs. A very seductive laugh. She’s squirming a bit on her chair. This talk is making her as hot as it is me, I suspect.

“Well I guess that would have to be in a contract between you and me…. Without that, I don’t think I am ready to give up my freedom just yet.”.

No doubt this had M’s brain buzzing a bit.

I forwarded the contract to Mistress as required. I went back to my work, then we took a long bike ride.

That afternoon we were settled back on our patio again. Mistress was back in her au natural state. Getting her private parts all nice and brown to match the rest of her.

But her I-phone was in hand again.

“Ummm…Slave. M texted me. He must be busy at work, but he wants me to …masturbate….now.”

I smile. Clever M. He does have a way of pulling Mistress’s strings. And she was happy to comply with his command.

“Would you like me to get the power tool, Mistress?”

“Yes….that would be nice Slave.”

I found the device, ran the long extension cord out to Mistress, plugged it in for her and made sure it was in operating condition.

I considered offering to do the “dirty work” for her. But I figured M had demanded masturbation, and who was I to interfere.

“Do you mind if I watch, Mistress?”

“No Slave….I insist that you watch.”

I settled into a nearby chair. Attentive.

Mistress spread her legs a bit, lay her head back on the chaise, and applied the soft churning ball at the apex of her two well tanned and shapely legs.

“Mmmmm…..this machine is amazing.”

Her hips was beginning to squirm from side to side, her wrist working it just so to find the best angle of attack.

“Is this a little strange, Slave? Me masturbating just because he tells me to?”

“Not if it makes you happy, Mistress.”

It certainly seemed to being making her happy.

“Did he tell you to think of anything in particular, Mistress?”

“Yes….he told me to think about him pushing me over his desk and fucking me then and there ….from behind.”

The thought seemed to engage Mistress in just the right way…she came with a sudden moan, writhing against her device, the muscles in her forearm rippling a bit as she held on for dear life.

Her eyes opened, she smiled that well fucked smile I have come to know.

“Did you like the show, Slave.”

“It was very entertaining, Mistress.”

And, of course, Mistress texted back to M that her mission had been accomplished.

“

In Negotiations

This blog got started after Molly and Mick entered into a very detailed contract requiring my rather thorough and complete submission to Mistress’s will. We negotiated the terms after I prepared a draft using elements from other similar agreements found on the internet.

But we also included a renewal option that would allow me to cancel or ask for changes to the contract once a year, on a date in mid-July (our wedding anniversary).

I mentioned this approaching date to Mistress yesterday. Of course, I have no plans to cancel the contract. It’s been a very healthy development for our marriage, and some elements – including Mistress’s right to enjoy the attentions of others – have acted as quite an unanticipated accelerant for our sex lives, as our regular readers no doubt can tell.

And while the contract certainly allows Mistress to take some extreme liberties at my expense, she has been abundantly merciful. It seems I rarely am required to wear my cock cage these days, primarily because we drive to and from work together. Nor have I been leased to another Mistress.

But no contract is perfect. Surely it could use some enhancement. So when I mentioned the upcoming date, I asked Mistress if she wanted to make any changes for her benefit, since I have no requests for amendments on my own behalf.

And she asked for some assistance, from our Western Correspondent.

Mistress was sunbathing nude on our patio, reading a book. Slave was doing some actual work on my laptop, under the portal and in the shade.

Then her phone rang. It was M, checking in on her morning activities.

Here’s how I heard Mistress’s side of the conversation.

“So Slave reminds me that our contract is coming up for renewal. There is one day a year when he can get out, or ask for changes.”

“He says he doesn’t want out. Isn’t that right, Slave.”

I can speak when spoken to under these circumstance.

“Of course, Mistress.”.

“But I am thinking, maybe I should make some changes…what do you think?”

“Yes, I suppose I could use your advice. Maybe I should retain you as my special counsel.”

“Great….Slave forward the contract to me so I can pass it onto M….he’s going to look it over and see if any of the terms need to be ‘tightened up’.

‘Of course, you might want to tighten up the contract on me….right now I can have sex with anyone I want…isn’t that right, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress…of course.”

“But I bet you’d like to limit that to only you, wouldn’t you, M?”

Mistress laughs. A very seductive laugh. She’s squirming a bit on her chair. This talk is making her as hot as it is me, I suspect.

“Well I guess that would have to be in a contract between you and me…. Without that, I don’t think I am ready to give up my freedom just yet.”.

No doubt this had M’s brain buzzing a bit.

I forwarded the contract to Mistress as required. I went back to my work, then we took a long bike ride.

That afternoon we were settled back on our patio again. Mistress was back in her au natural state. Getting her private parts all nice and brown to match the rest of her.

But her I-phone was in hand again.

“Ummm…Slave. M texted me. He must be busy at work, but he wants me to …masturbate….now.”

I smile. Clever M. He does have a way of pulling Mistress’s strings. And she was happy to comply with his command.

“Would you like me to get the power tool, Mistress?”

“Yes….that would be nice Slave.”

I found the device, ran the long extension cord out to Mistress, plugged it in for her and made sure it was in operating condition.

I considered offering to do the “dirty work” for her. But I figured M had demanded masturbation, and who was I to interfere.

“Do you mind if I watch, Mistress?”

“No Slave….I insist that you watch.”

I settled into a nearby chair. Attentive.

Mistress spread her legs a bit, lay her head back on the chaise, and applied the soft churning ball at the apex of her two well tanned and shapely legs.

“Mmmmm…..this machine is amazing.”

Her hips was beginning to squirm from side to side, her wrist working it just so to find the best angle of attack.

“Is this a little strange, Slave? Me masturbating just because he tells me to?”

“Not if it makes you happy, Mistress.”

It certainly seemed to being making her happy.

“Did he tell you to think of anything in particular, Mistress?”

“Yes….he told me to think about him pushing me over his desk and fucking me then and there ….from behind.”

The thought seemed to engage Mistress in just the right way…she came with a sudden moan, writhing against her device, the muscles in her forearm rippling a bit as she held on for dear life.

Her eyes opened, she smiled that well fucked smile I have come to know.

“Did you like the show, Slave.”

“It was very entertaining, Mistress.”

And, of course, Mistress texted back to M that her mission had been accomplished.

“

MIstress's Naked Sunday

Over a pint of Thai Cocoanut sorbet, shared in the dark in our bed at around midnight, Mistress and I debriefed one another on our naked Sunday experiment.

We had woken with a bad case of the munchies, sweet variety.

Quite frankly,  as we dug spoons into the frozen confection, the day  was all a bit of a blur that concluded with Mistress excusing herself somewhat prematurely from the dinner table she had set so nicely for two local friends. It was that time when her only option was finding a soft surface.

Our female guest did not seem miffed.

“Been there, done that,” she observed in her wordly way, as Mistress landed on the couch.

Well, actually I don’t think so, Jane.

So here is a brief timeline of Mistress’s day before our intimate dinner party began:

7:30 am- I am finishing up the blog. Mistress calls to tell me she is awake. I join her in bed, but as she works through some early morning emails, I lock on the red cuffs, black collar and black ankle cuffs.

The whining begins.

“But, Slaave they are so heavy

 …..but they will leave unsightly tan lines…..

but they are uncomfortable.”

Sheesh.

“Sorry Mistress, but it’s switch day, and we have agreed in advance that you will be naked and restrained through the day.”

And by the way, M … Good luck making our dear Molly anything close to an obedient and respectful  Slave. Though I am sure you welcome a challenge. I would invest in a very effective gag, before you undertake that project.

8:00 am – to (try to) get Mistress in the proper frame of mind, I began the ceremonies with the day’s only real lengthy set piece: Her wrists were joined and tied over her head to a ring at the corner of our bed. Her ankles were linked as well.

I deployed the crop, and some firm spanking, with a little intermittent cock sucking, and finally,  the first application of the Hitachi of the day, slid between Mistress’s legs from behind.

The result was a rather stunning orgasm, with Mistress’s bottom and thigh muscles flexing and churning nicely as Mistress had her way with that little tool. . And when I continued to apply the tool past Mistress’s breaking point, she rose up on all fours in her desperate efforts to shake it loose. She certainly did look impressive in that position, her charming ass waving at me so provocatively.

It was then that I took my pleasure from her for the first time of the day.  Very gratifying.

10:00 am – By now Mistress was enthroned on her chaise out on our deck, ankles bound to the base of the chair. Hands free to allow her to read a novel. We had already devoured some cereal and fruit al fresco. But it was time for Mistress’s hourly orgasm.

The Hitachi was on its extension cord, right at hand. Mistress succumbed quickly this time. It is a very efficient machine.

11:30 am- We have returned from a 10 mile bike ride over the challenging contours of our neighborhood. Mistress is naked again, but for a silky riding shirt I had told her to leave on for the moment. (She was allowed cloths for the ride, as we had agreed in the protocol for the day’s adventures.) Her cuffs and collar are again locked on (though not as tight and uncomfortably as she whined).

But she is holding her I-phone.

“M wants to know if I can call now, Slave.”

This might get us off schedule a bit, but her talk with M would certainly raise her horny-ness level in a mutually rewarding way.

“Of course, Mistress, he’s welcome to share the day with us.”

They talked about 45 minutes as I puttered away on some projects, aroused a bit at the thought of what they might be up to. But ultimately Mistress retrieved me, her conversation done for now.

“He was very interested in what we are up to Slave….He wants pictures. And he wanted to know if we can have a sex date later.”

“Of course, Mistress…..but in the meantime….”

I pulled her to a thick wooden post that supports our portal on the patio. I linked and lifted her hands, tying them off to a heavy steel ring implanted just for holding a whiney slave in place.

I had allowed Mistress a shirt if only to avoid complaints about that rough wood abrading her gentle skin. Talk about topping from below!  Mistress has it done pat.

But when I reached for the riding crop again, Mistress knew I meant business.

Displayed this way, her  bottom was exposed to the sun’s warm light for tanning purposes, as I “tanned” her delicate hide with the crop. 

Soon I had Mistress squirming and groaning a bit, her impertinence temporarily stifled as she focused on my strokes against her bottom.  And I ultimately rewarded her with the Hitachi, that slid between her pelvis and the pillar to which she was tied.  Mistress had one more orgasm, writhing against the thick wooden post.

As she sagged in the aftermath, I quickly released her and “dragged” her inside to our bed.

Somehow, hearing her tone of voice as she talked flirtatiously with M,  made me anxious to reclaim her for the moment with my cock.

3:00 pm- I had run an errand for some dinner provisions  for an hour or so, to accommodate Mistress’s “date” with M. The wind and a pop up thunderstorm had driven Mistress in from the patio. And her power tool was lying next to her on the bed.

She had a well fucked look on her face.

“How many Mistress?”

“Two Slave. He asked if I would tell you how many. I told him, “of course, Slave loves to know those types of details…..

“And I told him before we hung up that now I needed a hard cock.”

I was happy to accommodate. And to make sure Mistress had at least two more to match my third of the day. 

Not bad for a guy who qualifies for the senior discount at Boston Market.

That last engagement, and the long nap that followed, was the last formal activity of our Naked Sunday. Though Mistress remained naked and in her cuffs and collar as we did the prep for our little dinner party.

I suggested that our friends might not be offended  if she stayed that way through dinner.

“I am sure we could come up with a plausible explanation, Mistress. A suddenly discovered cotton allergy?”

But she would have none of that, so before our guests arrived, Mistress was unlocked, we showered together and she was back in jeans and a tie-dye top.

Maybe Mistress’s unavoidable decision to check out of the dinner party early was the result of the two “bud butter” cookies she greedily consumed. Our guest insisted she try one. But maybe two magic cookies was one too many for Mistress.

But I think the cookies got an assist from Mistress’s “post-multiple orgasms” high. The cumulative impact certainly took it’s toll, as that silly grin on her face confirmed.

We had lost count.

Like Christmas, it’s a shame Naked Sunday can’t come everyday.

As we consumed the sorbet in our bed, the full moon shining through our window and casting long shadows against the wall, Mistress shared her big concern about the night:

“I swear I was so out of it, I might have told Jane and John about our blog,  about M, the whole crazy story of our sex life.”

I tried to reassure Mistress.

“I think I would have noticed that Mistress….but I guess I wasn’t there the whole time.”

We thought about how to politely ask our guests whether Mistress had spilled embarrassing beans.

“I guess I could call in the morning and ask her if I had told her some crazy story about my involvement with a Cyber-Dom that  I got involved with because of our Sex Blog?”

Right. That might work.

“

MIstress's Naked Sunday

Over a pint of Thai Cocoanut sorbet, shared in the dark in our bed at around midnight, Mistress and I debriefed one another on our naked Sunday experiment.

We had woken with a bad case of the munchies, sweet variety.

Quite frankly,  as we dug spoons into the frozen confection, the day  was all a bit of a blur that concluded with Mistress excusing herself somewhat prematurely from the dinner table she had set so nicely for two local friends. It was that time when her only option was finding a soft surface.

Our female guest did not seem miffed.

“Been there, done that,” she observed in her wordly way, as Mistress landed on the couch.

Well, actually I don’t think so, Jane.

So here is a brief timeline of Mistress’s day before our intimate dinner party began:

7:30 am- I am finishing up the blog. Mistress calls to tell me she is awake. I join her in bed, but as she works through some early morning emails, I lock on the red cuffs, black collar and black ankle cuffs.

The whining begins.

“But, Slaave they are so heavy

 …..but they will leave unsightly tan lines…..

but they are uncomfortable.”

Sheesh.

“Sorry Mistress, but it’s switch day, and we have agreed in advance that you will be naked and restrained through the day.”

And by the way, M … Good luck making our dear Molly anything close to an obedient and respectful  Slave. Though I am sure you welcome a challenge. I would invest in a very effective gag, before you undertake that project.

8:00 am – to (try to) get Mistress in the proper frame of mind, I began the ceremonies with the day’s only real lengthy set piece: Her wrists were joined and tied over her head to a ring at the corner of our bed. Her ankles were linked as well.

I deployed the crop, and some firm spanking, with a little intermittent cock sucking, and finally,  the first application of the Hitachi of the day, slid between Mistress’s legs from behind.

The result was a rather stunning orgasm, with Mistress’s bottom and thigh muscles flexing and churning nicely as Mistress had her way with that little tool. . And when I continued to apply the tool past Mistress’s breaking point, she rose up on all fours in her desperate efforts to shake it loose. She certainly did look impressive in that position, her charming ass waving at me so provocatively.

It was then that I took my pleasure from her for the first time of the day.  Very gratifying.

10:00 am – By now Mistress was enthroned on her chaise out on our deck, ankles bound to the base of the chair. Hands free to allow her to read a novel. We had already devoured some cereal and fruit al fresco. But it was time for Mistress’s hourly orgasm.

The Hitachi was on its extension cord, right at hand. Mistress succumbed quickly this time. It is a very efficient machine.

11:30 am- We have returned from a 10 mile bike ride over the challenging contours of our neighborhood. Mistress is naked again, but for a silky riding shirt I had told her to leave on for the moment. (She was allowed cloths for the ride, as we had agreed in the protocol for the day’s adventures.) Her cuffs and collar are again locked on (though not as tight and uncomfortably as she whined).

But she is holding her I-phone.

“M wants to know if I can call now, Slave.”

This might get us off schedule a bit, but her talk with M would certainly raise her horny-ness level in a mutually rewarding way.

“Of course, Mistress, he’s welcome to share the day with us.”

They talked about 45 minutes as I puttered away on some projects, aroused a bit at the thought of what they might be up to. But ultimately Mistress retrieved me, her conversation done for now.

“He was very interested in what we are up to Slave….He wants pictures. And he wanted to know if we can have a sex date later.”

“Of course, Mistress…..but in the meantime….”

I pulled her to a thick wooden post that supports our portal on the patio. I linked and lifted her hands, tying them off to a heavy steel ring implanted just for holding a whiney slave in place.

I had allowed Mistress a shirt if only to avoid complaints about that rough wood abrading her gentle skin. Talk about topping from below!  Mistress has it done pat.

But when I reached for the riding crop again, Mistress knew I meant business.

Displayed this way, her  bottom was exposed to the sun’s warm light for tanning purposes, as I “tanned” her delicate hide with the crop. 

Soon I had Mistress squirming and groaning a bit, her impertinence temporarily stifled as she focused on my strokes against her bottom.  And I ultimately rewarded her with the Hitachi, that slid between her pelvis and the pillar to which she was tied.  Mistress had one more orgasm, writhing against the thick wooden post.

As she sagged in the aftermath, I quickly released her and “dragged” her inside to our bed.

Somehow, hearing her tone of voice as she talked flirtatiously with M,  made me anxious to reclaim her for the moment with my cock.

3:00 pm- I had run an errand for some dinner provisions  for an hour or so, to accommodate Mistress’s “date” with M. The wind and a pop up thunderstorm had driven Mistress in from the patio. And her power tool was lying next to her on the bed.

She had a well fucked look on her face.

“How many Mistress?”

“Two Slave. He asked if I would tell you how many. I told him, “of course, Slave loves to know those types of details…..

“And I told him before we hung up that now I needed a hard cock.”

I was happy to accommodate. And to make sure Mistress had at least two more to match my third of the day. 

Not bad for a guy who qualifies for the senior discount at Boston Market.

That last engagement, and the long nap that followed, was the last formal activity of our Naked Sunday. Though Mistress remained naked and in her cuffs and collar as we did the prep for our little dinner party.

I suggested that our friends might not be offended  if she stayed that way through dinner.

“I am sure we could come up with a plausible explanation, Mistress. A suddenly discovered cotton allergy?”

But she would have none of that, so before our guests arrived, Mistress was unlocked, we showered together and she was back in jeans and a tie-dye top.

Maybe Mistress’s unavoidable decision to check out of the dinner party early was the result of the two “bud butter” cookies she greedily consumed. Our guest insisted she try one. But maybe two magic cookies was one too many for Mistress.

But I think the cookies got an assist from Mistress’s “post-multiple orgasms” high. The cumulative impact certainly took it’s toll, as that silly grin on her face confirmed.

We had lost count.

Like Christmas, it’s a shame Naked Sunday can’t come everyday.

As we consumed the sorbet in our bed, the full moon shining through our window and casting long shadows against the wall, Mistress shared her big concern about the night:

“I swear I was so out of it, I might have told Jane and John about our blog,  about M, the whole crazy story of our sex life.”

I tried to reassure Mistress.

“I think I would have noticed that Mistress….but I guess I wasn’t there the whole time.”

We thought about how to politely ask our guests whether Mistress had spilled embarrassing beans.

“I guess I could call in the morning and ask her if I had told her some crazy story about my involvement with a Cyber-Dom that  I got involved with because of our Sex Blog?”

Right. That might work.

“

MIstress's Naked Sunday

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MIstress's Naked Sunday

Over a pint of Thai Cocoanut sorbet, shared in the dark in our bed at around midnight, Mistress and I debriefed one another on our naked Sunday experiment.

We had woken with a bad case of the munchies, sweet variety.

Quite frankly,  as we dug spoons into the frozen confection, the day  was all a bit of a blur that concluded with Mistress excusing herself somewhat prematurely from the dinner table she had set so nicely for two local friends. It was that time when her only option was finding a soft surface.

Our female guest did not seem miffed.

“Been there, done that,” she observed in her wordly way, as Mistress landed on the couch.

Well, actually I don’t think so, Jane.

So here is a brief timeline of Mistress’s day before our intimate dinner party began:

7:30 am- I am finishing up the blog. Mistress calls to tell me she is awake. I join her in bed, but as she works through some early morning emails, I lock on the red cuffs, black collar and black ankle cuffs.

The whining begins.

“But, Slaave they are so heavy

 …..but they will leave unsightly tan lines…..

but they are uncomfortable.”

Sheesh.

“Sorry Mistress, but it’s switch day, and we have agreed in advance that you will be naked and restrained through the day.”

And by the way, M … Good luck making our dear Molly anything close to an obedient and respectful  Slave. Though I am sure you welcome a challenge. I would invest in a very effective gag, before you undertake that project.

8:00 am – to (try to) get Mistress in the proper frame of mind, I began the ceremonies with the day’s only real lengthy set piece: Her wrists were joined and tied over her head to a ring at the corner of our bed. Her ankles were linked as well.

I deployed the crop, and some firm spanking, with a little intermittent cock sucking, and finally,  the first application of the Hitachi of the day, slid between Mistress’s legs from behind.

The result was a rather stunning orgasm, with Mistress’s bottom and thigh muscles flexing and churning nicely as Mistress had her way with that little tool. . And when I continued to apply the tool past Mistress’s breaking point, she rose up on all fours in her desperate efforts to shake it loose. She certainly did look impressive in that position, her charming ass waving at me so provocatively.

It was then that I took my pleasure from her for the first time of the day.  Very gratifying.

10:00 am – By now Mistress was enthroned on her chaise out on our deck, ankles bound to the base of the chair. Hands free to allow her to read a novel. We had already devoured some cereal and fruit al fresco. But it was time for Mistress’s hourly orgasm.

The Hitachi was on its extension cord, right at hand. Mistress succumbed quickly this time. It is a very efficient machine.

11:30 am- We have returned from a 10 mile bike ride over the challenging contours of our neighborhood. Mistress is naked again, but for a silky riding shirt I had told her to leave on for the moment. (She was allowed cloths for the ride, as we had agreed in the protocol for the day’s adventures.) Her cuffs and collar are again locked on (though not as tight and uncomfortably as she whined).

But she is holding her I-phone.

“M wants to know if I can call now, Slave.”

This might get us off schedule a bit, but her talk with M would certainly raise her horny-ness level in a mutually rewarding way.

“Of course, Mistress, he’s welcome to share the day with us.”

They talked about 45 minutes as I puttered away on some projects, aroused a bit at the thought of what they might be up to. But ultimately Mistress retrieved me, her conversation done for now.

“He was very interested in what we are up to Slave….He wants pictures. And he wanted to know if we can have a sex date later.”

“Of course, Mistress…..but in the meantime….”

I pulled her to a thick wooden post that supports our portal on the patio. I linked and lifted her hands, tying them off to a heavy steel ring implanted just for holding a whiney slave in place.

I had allowed Mistress a shirt if only to avoid complaints about that rough wood abrading her gentle skin. Talk about topping from below!  Mistress has it done pat.

But when I reached for the riding crop again, Mistress knew I meant business.

Displayed this way, her  bottom was exposed to the sun’s warm light for tanning purposes, as I “tanned” her delicate hide with the crop. 

Soon I had Mistress squirming and groaning a bit, her impertinence temporarily stifled as she focused on my strokes against her bottom.  And I ultimately rewarded her with the Hitachi, that slid between her pelvis and the pillar to which she was tied.  Mistress had one more orgasm, writhing against the thick wooden post.

As she sagged in the aftermath, I quickly released her and “dragged” her inside to our bed.

Somehow, hearing her tone of voice as she talked flirtatiously with M,  made me anxious to reclaim her for the moment with my cock.

3:00 pm- I had run an errand for some dinner provisions  for an hour or so, to accommodate Mistress’s “date” with M. The wind and a pop up thunderstorm had driven Mistress in from the patio. And her power tool was lying next to her on the bed.

She had a well fucked look on her face.

“How many Mistress?”

“Two Slave. He asked if I would tell you how many. I told him, “of course, Slave loves to know those types of details…..

“And I told him before we hung up that now I needed a hard cock.”

I was happy to accommodate. And to make sure Mistress had at least two more to match my third of the day. 

Not bad for a guy who qualifies for the senior discount at Boston Market.

That last engagement, and the long nap that followed, was the last formal activity of our Naked Sunday. Though Mistress remained naked and in her cuffs and collar as we did the prep for our little dinner party.

I suggested that our friends might not be offended  if she stayed that way through dinner.

“I am sure we could come up with a plausible explanation, Mistress. A suddenly discovered cotton allergy?”

But she would have none of that, so before our guests arrived, Mistress was unlocked, we showered together and she was back in jeans and a tie-dye top.

Maybe Mistress’s unavoidable decision to check out of the dinner party early was the result of the two “bud butter” cookies she greedily consumed. Our guest insisted she try one. But maybe two magic cookies was one too many for Mistress.

But I think the cookies got an assist from Mistress’s “post-multiple orgasms” high. The cumulative impact certainly took it’s toll, as that silly grin on her face confirmed.

We had lost count.

Like Christmas, it’s a shame Naked Sunday can’t come everyday.

As we consumed the sorbet in our bed, the full moon shining through our window and casting long shadows against the wall, Mistress shared her big concern about the night:

“I swear I was so out of it, I might have told Jane and John about our blog,  about M, the whole crazy story of our sex life.”

I tried to reassure Mistress.

“I think I would have noticed that Mistress….but I guess I wasn’t there the whole time.”

We thought about how to politely ask our guests whether Mistress had spilled embarrassing beans.

“I guess I could call in the morning and ask her if I had told her some crazy story about my involvement with a Cyber-Dom that  I got involved with because of our Sex Blog?”

Right. That might work.

“