A comment we received yesterday suggested that our Contract seems so thoroughly one sided that it’s hard to provide any more enhancements to my Mistress’ s authority.
Probably so.
But She really is pretty easy on me.
On Friday, when we were not commuting together, I forgot to ask whether to wear my cage.
Oops.
A breach.
But no punishment. Phew.
(I guess. Actually, surprise, surprise, Slave likes a good punishment now and again.)
I think Mistress is cutting me some slack because I am behaving myself, and pleasing her in other ways.
All that worship, and the (at least) twice a day hard cock seem to have earned me privileges. Sort of like those creepy collaborators in the Nazi Concentration camps. (But do I want to be one of those guys?)
And as long as she has our Western Correspondent attending to her sub side, she seems pretty content. I mean, how many orgasms a day can one woman want / need?
I guess the only thing I need to be concerned about from the “what the fuck have I agreed to “ perspective would be if Mistress decides to assign her rights to some other, much more demanding Mistress.
And she has the right to do that, at any time. Either temporarily, or permanently.
She claims that she would never, ever do such a thing.
I am too valued, she says.
And I believe her.
But what if my shelf-life expires.
Last night we went to see “Solitary Man”, the movie with Michael Douglas as a 59 year old man on the down hill slope of a prominent business career. He wasted his fortune, did the perp walk, pled out to some banal fraud charge, then burned bridges with his family and girl friend just to sleep with women half (or less) his age.
I mean, what type of guy, given the chance to bed down both Susan Sarandon and Mary Louise Parker in the same movie, would trade that for some 18 year old brat on a college visit?
An asshole.
But it does make you wonder whether, at the same age as that sleazy movie character, I am approaching my own limits of good sense and sexual usefulness.
Hopefully Mistress will not exercise her contractual rights to trade in and up for a younger, heartier model.
I do trust her though.
And I will happily extend the term of my enslavement to her for another year. She is a fair, generous and caring Mistress, if a bit lenient.
I think the only way I might get leant out to another in the near term would be as a swap with B, her Master’s rather demanding wife. If M actually required Molly to make a personal appearance, I suspect all things might be put on the table. Including my bottom.
But I know you don’t come here for ruminations about the insecurities of an aging Slave.
So Boring.
So here are samples of yesterday’s good parts.
After Mistress called me upstairs and giggled through my blog entry of the day, I asked for the opportunity to worship her.
She was spread naked across our bed, and she pushed her beloved kitty off her chest to give me ample room to settle between her legs. I teased and tormented her delicious folds with tongue and lips until she came with a lovely burst of moaning and thrashing about.
She then gave me permission to take my own pleasure from her, which I was anxious to do, burying a swollen cock in her to the hilt.
After a long bike ride in air finally, if briefly,, cleansed of the smog and humidity we encountered on our return from the Mountains, we went off in different directions: Molly and a teen to have their nails painted; Mick off to consort with my cute little grandsons.
We linked up again at our neighborhood swim club, where the sight of my 18 year and her friend in scandalous bikinis brought home from Greece had heads turning and jaws dropping . And they thought the PDA’s of a middleaged couple could shock the conscience?
At around 4pm, Mistress let me know that she had arranged to talk to M at 5 our time.
“No problem, Mistress….while you do that I will mow the lawn.”
And so I found myself mowing our shaggy grass as Mistress talked a bit to her (remote) Lover and Master. I was sweating up a storm in the late afternoon heat, and imagining Mistress squirming and coming …. And coming…. at his command.
When the mowing was done, I texted Mistress:
“Let me know when you are ready for cock.”
I know what she likes as a chaser after one of these sessions. And I like being used and useful.
About 15 minutes later, as I was pruning away the growth of the last few weeks, I got her text.
“Come up now, Slave.”
I dropped the pruner and hopped to.
I found Mistress on our bed, naked, her laptop open.
“May I take a shower first, Mistress.”
“Good idea Slave. Then put in your little white probe.”
AS it turned out, Mistress and M did not have THAT type of talk. They go way deeper than just Sex, as it should be, and there was some catching up to do.
But it was clear Mistress had some pent up demand.
I came to her soon, all clean and damp, the probe in my ass reminding me that I was hers, and already making my cock stir in that primal sort of way.
And after I used my fingers to give her that initial ice breaker orgasm, she regaled me with her fingers and tongue swelling my cock to the proportions designed to please her.
The result was a long, leisurely fuck, which seemed to take her over the edge a few times before - with a certain desperation in my pleading voice – begged her for the permission to come.
That’s one clause of the contract I have been fully conditioned to comply with.
Now it’s Sunday morning.
Our switch Day.
The teen slept at a friend’s house.
I have laid a trap for Mistress.
I was surprised the hammering did not wake her.
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