HUH?

"Simone" and "Sam" have been forced to go on the Lam, after some sloppy security work exposed them to their potential "enemies". Fortunately, they've found help through the SBPP.
("Sex Bloggers Protection Program"). Follow their adventures here until its safe for them to resume their prior alter-egos.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Red Bottom and Frustration for Mistress

Molly and Mick got home late last night, surly teens huddled in the back seat, all of their electronica plugged in and amusing them, while we drove the bleak moonlit highway from that great city on the Lake to our more humble environs on the River.

And since I forgot to change my watch .... well Slave is pressed for time this morning, so I reserve the right to revise and extend these remarks, like some bloviating Senator or Congressman with an eye toward his "legacy" ( or avoiding electoral demise).

First, one of our comments yesterday, from the mysterious Sin, asked about the rules for our Switch days.

They are laid out in the contract. Slave gets two hours each Sunday to "turn the tables" on Mistress and subject her to all the "horrors" (punishment, bondage, yada, yada) that she can inflict on me the rest of the week.

Naturally, there are limits, I can't transfer rights to another person. Nor can I use my switch privileges to take pleasure from another. Not that I would want to stray.

Other than that, it's what an old cranky Judge I once had to deal with too often used to refer to as the "goosey, gander" rule. What's good for me all week long, must be good for Mistress for two short hours on a Sunday, right?

Of course, this also imposes a certain "honor among Dom/Domme's" since, if I go too far I know there will be some payback due. And she knows the same.

Then again, sometimes I do stretch the limits a bit with the twisted logic that maybe it will press some Mistressy buttons that will earn me the sort of (mis)treatment I so sorely deserve.

Manipulative?

Bad Slave. Very bad.

So those are the rules, but Sin, feel free to peruse the contract for any other sordid details. I believe it showed up again in early July.

AS for yesterday's Switch session, there was a cunning twist.

M, Mistress's remote Dom, had given me orders to make sure Mistress got a good hard spanking. As he put it, she had been "lippy" to him Friday night.

As M no doubt is discovering, Mistress can be a willful little slut if given too much rope, and she can taunt and tease with the best of them.

And so, after Mistress woke from her beauty sleep, I carried out my instructions.

I had brought the cute red cuffs and their brass padlocks, and as she perused my blog and several others, I locked them on each of her slender wrists.

She was stalling for time.

"You know you really don't have to spank me, Slave. You don't report to him, but to me."

"I do feel a certain compulsion though Mistress. Don't you look forward to reporting to him that you submitted to the punishment he prescribed."

"Well, I guess so, Slave."

"And just think how disappointed he would be in you if you conned me out of this little exercise"

"I suppose he would be, Slave."



When she finally put the computer aside, I linked them together with silver carabiner I packed for that purpose, so that her wrists were implacably bound together in front. Then rolled her over, running my fingers over her lush, firm and already squirming bottom.

"Hmmm, you already smell of sex, Mistress. I love the smell of wet cunt in the morning."

My fingers probed, tested, and confirmed that I was not imagining things.

And Misstress's ass wiggled all the more.

"I hope you are referring to mine, Slave."

"Only yours, Mistress. Only yours."

That's when I landed the first of many firm cracks to her insolent ass with my right hand.

Oh, yes. there were many protests of pain, agony even.

And I took a break or two to sooth her with my right hand as my left wormed its way under her to massage her little needy clit.

BUt tghen the spanking resumed.

I did not finish until my arm had gotten a little bit tired, and her bottom was red. Very red.

"That hurt, Slave."

There was a tone of indignation in her voice.

"make sure you let your friend out West know, Mistress."

But there is always a reward on switch day. ANd Mistress's always comes first.

(Hmmm.... planning ahead. maybe that get's switched too.)

The hitachi was still next to the bed, plugged in and ready, leftover from Mistress's Friday evening date with M. No doubt scandalizing the chamber maid.

I slid it under her still smarting ass, between her legs.

Mistress moaned with glee. Then began working herself to the denoument.

She thought.

But something funny happened on the way to Mistress's typically efficient power tool induced explosion.

She tried and she tried.

She clenched and squirmed.

But all she got was frustration.

"This is driving me crazy Slave"

What's wrong, Mistress?"

(can you hear the sarcasm in Slave's voice?)

"I'm not sure Slave...maybe it's the angle.....let me do it....."

The little slut wanted me to turn the controls over to her....on Switch day no less.The temerity was shocking. just shocking.

"But that would be wrong Mistress....it's my way or no way this morning.The worst thing that happens is you wait until tomorrow for that orgasm."

A howl of protest emitted from her frustrated maw.

Wish I had packed a gag.

But she accepted her medicine. And recommitted her cunt to coming exactly the way I had planned. I wormed the little device a bit further beneath her hips. Then the switch went on....Mistress came, and came, and came some more her hips literally bouncing off the bed as her thighs clung with dear life to that relentless device.

When she finally stopped shaking, her face blotchy and red, and the machine was set aside, she demanded that I fuck her. And I had no objection to her making demands of that time, even on our switch day.

Post script:

After we came down in a sweaty, sated heap we packed up our things and headed out for a long 21 mile bike ride with friends along the lake front. it was a glorious day in the windy city. And, yes, the wind was blowing for that long ride back to the Gold Coast when we finally turned around.

Mistress had left her I-phone at our friends' apartment, and when she got back there was a text from M:

"How is that bottom, Slave?"

Now you know, M.

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