So as Mistress slept in, I was busy downstairs preparing a little trap for her.
When she finally woke, around 8 am, I brought up the morning papers. We lay in bed a bit catching up on the (not so much) fun times in River City. And after Mistress read our morning blog, I pulled out our bag of goodies and gadgets.
First came the red leather cuffs for her wrist, locked on, and then joined together with a seperate lock, instead of the steel fastener Mistress is used to making that connection.
“Why the lock, Slave?.”
“Because you are sometimes a little too eager to disconnect your hands yourself Mistress. Only the key can let you loose now.”
I let that sink in.
Then I said, “time for us to go downstairs now, Mistress.”
I helped her out of bed, then led her by the elbow, down the stairs, through our kitchen, to a threshold between the kitchen and family room.
Positioning her there, I lifted her arms.
It was then she noticed the firm hook I had screwed into the rough hewn woodwork that morning .
“Oh My, Slave…..”
Once I had her wrists fastened over the hook, Mistress was stretched and very vulnerable, up on her toes.
“Uhhh….. this could get uncomfortable, Slave.”
She really could not have wiggled loose, even if she had tried.
Delicious.
“Don’t worry Mistress, I won’t let you linger in agony there TOO long.”
But to make her a little more secure, I fastened her ankles together with another pair of leather cuffs.
And I wiggled a thick cushion under her feet, to give her a little more flexibility for her arms.
I did not want to cause her too much discomfort
Not TOO much.
I took her in my arms from behind, and let my hands wonder over her, sliding up her thighs, over her full breasts. Making her squirm back against me, as my mouth burrowed her into her neck, taking in the aroma of her long tresses.
Yum.
Then I broke away.
“Back in a moment, Mistress”
She was a tad annoyed.
“Where are you going, Slave!”
“I forgot a few things.”
I walked away, glancing back over my shoulder to watch her struggle a bit. She was going nowhere.
Lovely.
A few moments later I slid in stealthily behind her. Secreting one of my toys. And brandishing the riding crop for her to see.
But before I applied it to her bottom, there was a matter of those little black nipple vices.
Mistress had a little hissy fit when she saw them. In my hand
“No….not those damn things….are you kidding!”
“Shhh, Mistress. No point in arguing with the inevitable.”
She knew she was nicely fixed. And her arms were already feeling a little stretched out. This was a fix she could neither squirm away from , nor talk her way out of.
My trap had been sprung.
And despite continued verbal protests, Mistress passively submitted to this new twist in the plot.
Some ice from the nearby freezer helped cool and firm up her sprightly nipples.
With one hand I popped her left nipple through the aperture of the vice, then used the other hand to screw it down until her little bud was squeezed firmly and held tight.
“Oh shit…that hurts.”
But there were no tears. Mistress took her medicine stoically.
M would have been proud of his little Slave.
I repeated the process with the other nipple.
“OK, Mistress?”
“Yes….But my arms, Slave. They are starting to hurt.”
“Patience, Mistress…patience.”
I picked up the camera and snapped shots from various angles. I figured Mistress would enjoy perusing these shots later that evening. And that our readers would enjoy them as well.
Then I picked up the crop.
It was a pleasure to watch Mistress’s bottom squirm, side to side, while limited in its range of motion by the tension on her arms and the little vices swinging from her breasts.
I gave her about ten relatively mild strokes. Watching her bottom begin to glow with some nice red stripes.
But I was not going to let her hang there too long without some pleasure to add to the pain.
That’s when I picked up the Hitachi magic wand that I had plopped onto the couch behind her.
I pressed my body against her from behind one hand sliding along her flank, the other wielding the churning power tool, sliding it up between her legs to the sweet spot that undulated against it.
Mistress’s reward quickly came, as she writhed in my arms, stretching her arms even more to purchase the right point of contact that took her over the edge, then collapsing back against me, distributing her weight on her arms and against my chest and hips, head thrown back.
What a fine little subbie she had become, at least for a few moments on a Sunday morning.
But I did not want to hurt those lovely arms, so I helped them off the hook, then pulled her over to the nearby couch, onto my lap, bottom up.
“Hope those arms are OK, Mistress. But you did look very sexy up their”.
“I did, Slave?”, she said with a certain tone of pride.
Mistress does like her compliments.
I was slowly stroking her bottom with my hand, tracing the little red welts left behind by the crop, already beginning to fade.
Soon Mistress’s bottom was squirming to my touch.. Her manacled hands were stretched out in front of her. Her ankles were still linked. She was still very much in my control until I decided to release her.
And I wasn’t quite ready to set Mistress free. Not just yet.
Instead I began a nice firm spanking that soon had her crying out, and squirming all the more.
But this time the pain and pleasure would overlap.
Where I had settled her onto my lap was almost exactly where I had placed the Hitachi, so it was easy to grab it with my right hand, while continuing to spank with my left.
Mistress was more than happy to wiggle her thighs and hips a bit to accommodate the power tool as I slid it between the tops of her thighs and underneath her.
And it was amusing to watch her confused muscle response as she tried to absorb my spanks with her limited squirm range, even while her bottom and thigh muscles were flexing and relaxing in response to the “cruel” vibrations that her cunt was being forced to absorb.
She swiftly built herself of to one of those powerful cums that had her quaking, shaking and moaning with delight, her head buried in a pillow at the end of the couch. And for good measure I kept the Hitachi in play to squeeze yet another one out of it.
I like to hear her plead for me to stop when her plesure center is overwhelmed with stimulation.
I let her rest there for a moment, gently massaging her bottom and lower back. But I suspect she could feel my firm cock pressing up against her, still inside my shorts.
“Fuck me, Slave”, I heard her softly murmur into the pillow.
“Of course I will, Mistress. Let me help you up.”
I unfastened her ankles, but kept her cuff wrists together. (the key was upstairs, in any event).
I spread a fluffy pink blanket sitting nearby onto the carpeted floor, and took my prize then and there, as Mistress stretched her bound wrists overhead.
I liked her moan as my cock, hardened by deferred gratification, filled her.
Afterwards, as we lay there on the floor and I soothed her well used parts with my tongue, I offered a form of an apology.
“I hope I was not too cruel, Mistress.”
“No …Slave…. It was …. Pretty impressive….”
I always like to leave my Mistress with a good impression of my work.
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