Raining.
Hotel room.
No where to be until noon.
So there was some reading (me a compelling book about the MLK Assassination by Hampton Sides).
Blog writing.
Blog reading.
Sex.
Lattes.
More reading.
At around 11 am, Mistress said it was time for a shower.
But I had one more thing I “needed” to do.
Her Hitachi was still sitting on a chair, where she had left it the afternoon before, the detritus of her slutty little phone liaison with her Master, our Western Correspondent.
“Mistress, I want you over here for a minute.”
I suspect she knew from the tone of my voice that I had mischief in mind.
At first, she demurred. She needed to wash her hair, to get it dried in time, and I joined her in the shower, exploiting the chance to play with her dripping body.
But when we were both all nice and clean, she was curious about what I had in mind.
“OK, Slave. What did you want me to do?”
“Stand there against the wall Mistress. Hands over your head, pressed against the wall.”
I positioned her as a Cop would, ready for frisking. She was leaning against the wall, arms overhead, naked, fresh from the shower, her nicely cleaned, damp hair wrapped in a towel.
And the Hitachi was lying next to her. Plugged in and ready.
I leaned against her, hands roaming her body.
“Remember that scenario when M and B (M’s very authoritative wife) had you wait for them naked in that hotel room, Mistress?”
“Ummm. Yes, Slave.”
“Well I want you to think about this. ….B has her Hitachi and you in this position. She commands M to sit still and watch. He’s in the corner, but powerless to help you. You may be his Slave. But he’s her slave, right?”
“Yes…. I understand.”
My hand is reaching around, running a finger up and down her slit. Is it damp from the shower, or are Mistress’s juices already beginning to flow?
I use my foot to spread her legs a bit. My cock is already getting thick, and its pressed between her smooth ass cheeks.
Distracting.
So I stepped back a bit, reached for the power tool and flicked it on, pressing it against the inside of her thigh. Mistress startled a bit, but I held her in place with my left hand, my mouth close to her ear.
“She has you in this position. She uses the Hitachi on you, Mistress….relentlessly…she says ‘ M thinks you’re his little slut ….but by the time I get done with you you’re going to be all mine….you won’t want that cock of his….”
“and you’ll protest….wimpering….you’ll look over at M as if he can save you….but he’ll just watch, he won’t lift a finger, Mistress, as she makes you hers.”
Mistress moaned as I pressed the tool up between her legs. And, out of no where, this smutty little exposition I had planted in her brain, combined with that relentless machine that M has trained her to use, had her coming almost instantaneously, bucking and writhing against it, knees buckling underneath her.
It took all of 20 seconds.
“Whoa, Mistress, what was that?”
We were both laughing. Instant orgasm.
But I was not done with her. All that set up work would just go to waste. So I bucked her up, got her back in position. Spun the story a bit longer, only to have her come again for me in another 30 seconds or so…..
Amazing.
Mistress’s instant orgasms had me going again, so I led her to the bed and had my own fun with her very damp and needy cunt.
So much for showering.
Later that day, after an afternoon picnic with some political types, we were driving back to River City. It’s about a 2 hour trip.
M had let us know he was golfing out west in the morning. I pitied the poor prairie dogs dodging his powerful drives. But about 90 minutes into the drive, Mistress got a text indicating that he was off the course. She elected to call him to chat a bit.
Their talk was not particularly smutty, though I did ask for the phone to tell him about Mistress’s morning experience (and the fact that I had taken a photo he might want to request from her). But I did enjoy watching Mistress’s body language when they chatted, all squirmy, her hand somehow finding its way between her thighs….not exactly playing with herself, but certainly a subliminal demonstration that playing with herself is exactly what she would like to do, if she wasn’t in a car with her devoted husband / slave.
At some point she may be required to shed that false modesty, don’t you think?
In any event I had my camera available and snapped the photo above to show M and the rest of you just what I am talking about. She is a horny little slit for him, don’t you think?
As we approached home, Mistress learned that M would soon be home himself, and things added up quickly.
“Slave, you don’t mind if M and I have a date when we get home, do you?”
Of course I didn’t. As if it was my place to object.
As we arrived home I was told to bring her bag upstairs. Inside was the Hitachi.
Mistress stripped away her traveling cloths. She asked me to plug it in for her. All was ready. I was told I was welcome to stay, but I figured they were entitled to a little privacy.
I settled into my own comfort zone out on the deck, Times in hand, cold beer at my side, figuring this could take a while.
But only about 10 minutes later, Mistress poked her head out the door. She was naked, but for a swim suit top.
“He got interrupted, Slave. So…well …. Let’s go for that bike ride.”
I could tell Mistress was a little … frustrated. I offered to help solve the “problem” then and there, but we agreed to take care of that after a bike ride and swim.
It was a hot day and the sun had come out. We lounged about our pool for an hour or so, and headed home around 5 pm. And the first order of business back in our empty nest was taking care of Mistress’s unfinished business.
The Hitachi was where she had left it on the bed. We both quickly stripped away our damp bathing costumes.
Lying on the bed next to her, I picked up the tool again and asked her to explain what had gone so terribly wrong.
“Exactly where did you leave things off, Mistress?”
“Well I was lying here, Slave. On your side of the bed (next to the outlet)”.
“And did he have you using the tool yet, Mistress?”
I had flipped it on and was resting it just south of her favorite spot. She squirmed a bit, hoping to make better contact. But I held back. No instant orgasm until the story was out of her.
‘Yes, Slave….it was on. He had me pressing it against my clit.”
“And was his cock out, Mistress? Had he applied that expensive lube of his?”
M reputedly uses primo lube. $50 a container. He’s a man who clearly has his priorities straight.
“Yes, Slave…”
That turns you on, doesn’t it Mistress?”
It’s a powerful thing for her to know that this dominant, alpha dog is out in the Rockies, responding to her voice in just the way she responds to his. And I was now applying the tool in ways that had Mistress getting a little distracted. If properly used this device is better than sodium pentothal to get the truth out of a squirming vixen.
“Yes, Slave….it’s very hot….”
“But then you were interrupted?”
“His kids came home….he had to stop….but he told me I could finish without him….”
“and did you Mistress?”
“No….I figured that could wait for you, my Slave….”
She was buttering me up. Shameless.
“You mean you stopped this…..I pressed the churning head of the tool against her clit. A direct hit. She was moaning pressing her pelvis up against it.
“Yes….don’t you believe me?”
“That sounds very … implausible, Mistress….”
I pressed my advantage.
“You sound….accusatory…Slave.”
“No Mistress. It’s just that I know how much you like this….it makes you crazy doesn’t it?”
At that point the interrogation was effectively over, because Mistress was coming hard against the tool. In fact, she was coming so hard and with such energy that her gyrations made the tool break contact with her “good parts” a bit too soon, to her great frustration.
Climaxus Interruptus.
“Argh…..Ohhhh…. Put it back, Slave,” she moaned at me.
We regrouped. And soon we got it done right, to Mistress’s relief. Sad to think that both her Master and her Slave had frustrated her on one hot afternoon. Hopefully I redeemed us both.
And for the record, I do believe her when she says she did not finish the job without him. The machine would have gotten the truth from her if she had been lying to me.
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