Switch Day: The Second Movement

Now that Mistress was awakened from her little beauty nap by the perverse curiosity of our Western Correspondent, it was time to spring my trap: a Switch Day reprise to make up for my deficiency the prior Sunday.

I had the locking black wrist cuffs at the ready,

As I rolled over to grab them at the side of the bed, Mistress knew something was up.

“What are you up to Slave?”

“Just making sure you got your Sub’s worth today, Slut!”

She put  some token resistance as I fastened the cuff to her left wrist, a but surprised, but seemingly more than game to reprise her morning role   as my little bound fuck-toy.

But she felt a need to share the moment.

“Let’s take a photo to let M know that he got this ball rolling, Slave.”

So I took a few seconds off from restraining Mistress, snapped the photo of her bound wrist,  and let her send the taunting message to M.

“I told him that he woke us up, and now you are forcing yourself on me, Slave.”

Then the chime on her phone was turned off. I was going to take all her attention for the next 30 minutes or so.

With her hands bound together, overhead, Mistress was sufficiently helpless. She was forced to endure my fondling, sucking, nipping and tongue thrusting until our chambers were redolent with the sweet and musky aroma of her arousal.

Yum.

That’ when I reached for the Hitachi, still on the floor, rested and ready from it’s morning maneuvers.

Mistress’s eyes widened. She liked what she saw. But with a little effort,  could I get her to consider it too much of a good thing?

That was the afternoon’s objective: test Mistress’s limits.

“Oh, goodie, bonus time with the power tool, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress. Do I recall you saying that you had three cums on your Friday morning date with M?”

“Uhhh…..yeah….”

“Well I don’t think my little weekend reclamation project will be done until I can at least match that…”

By now the Hitachi was churning away at  her, and with Mistress on her back, legs spread about as wide as she could split them, it was easy for me to zero in on my target, sort of like one of those cruise missiles screaming down the smoke stack of Saddam Hussein’s favorite Baghdad BBQ joint.

Her first detonation came within seconds, taking us both by surprise, her hips flying up off the bed to scrunch herself even harder against the white bulb of my deadly weapon.

“Oh my, that was a quickie, Mistress. I wonder how long it will take for two more?”

“Really….”

I let her come down for just a moment, before I renewed my assault, sliding the bulb hard against her swollen clit. She used all the clever evasive techniques at her disposal, but she could hardly move far with her hands tied  tightly above her head.

Within a minute of so she surrendered to the inevitable, moaning and squeezing the device tightly with her thighs. Maybe she thought she could crush the pesky thing, but then what would she use for her next date with M?

“That’s really enough Slave…..why don’t you fuck me now.”

Well, of course I was tempted. My cock had been ready for that since before the Hitachi had been armed and deployed. But I felt I still owed Mistress another one.

“Calm yourself, Mistress…one more and this special operation can move on to the looting and plundering stage.”

She resigned herself to her fate, and I used the tool to slowly bring her to the top again, watching her spill over the side into the thundering waters of another thrashing and moaning climax.

Mission accomplished, I thumbed the tool off, putting it aside for its next deployment.

Mistress was a bit out of it by now, her legs still tossing from side to side a bit, her lead lolling back against the bed. So I neither sought nor received permission to mount her. I simply took her.

Without complaint, I might add. Her cunt was oh so wet and open that it seemed to swallow me whole, with greedy delight,

I could see Mistress I-phone on the bed table. It shook a bit, presumably with the arrival of another message from M, his curiosity on high alert, looking for an update.

I could hear him at home, having dispatched his Icelandic Nemesis on the golf course: “What are those two crazies up to?”

I figured that, in due time, Mistress would thank him for that wake up call.

But he could wait just a bit longer.

.

Switch Day: The Second Movement

Now that Mistress was awakened from her little beauty nap by the perverse curiosity of our Western Correspondent, it was time to spring my trap: a Switch Day reprise to make up for my deficiency the prior Sunday.

I had the locking black wrist cuffs at the ready,

As I rolled over to grab them at the side of the bed, Mistress knew something was up.

“What are you up to Slave?”

“Just making sure you got your Sub’s worth today, Slut!”

She put  some token resistance as I fastened the cuff to her left wrist, a but surprised, but seemingly more than game to reprise her morning role   as my little bound fuck-toy.

But she felt a need to share the moment.

“Let’s take a photo to let M know that he got this ball rolling, Slave.”

So I took a few seconds off from restraining Mistress, snapped the photo of her bound wrist,  and let her send the taunting message to M.

“I told him that he woke us up, and now you are forcing yourself on me, Slave.”

Then the chime on her phone was turned off. I was going to take all her attention for the next 30 minutes or so.

With her hands bound together, overhead, Mistress was sufficiently helpless. She was forced to endure my fondling, sucking, nipping and tongue thrusting until our chambers were redolent with the sweet and musky aroma of her arousal.

Yum.

That’ when I reached for the Hitachi, still on the floor, rested and ready from it’s morning maneuvers.

Mistress’s eyes widened. She liked what she saw. But with a little effort,  could I get her to consider it too much of a good thing?

That was the afternoon’s objective: test Mistress’s limits.

“Oh, goodie, bonus time with the power tool, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress. Do I recall you saying that you had three cums on your Friday morning date with M?”

“Uhhh…..yeah….”

“Well I don’t think my little weekend reclamation project will be done until I can at least match that…”

By now the Hitachi was churning away at  her, and with Mistress on her back, legs spread about as wide as she could split them, it was easy for me to zero in on my target, sort of like one of those cruise missiles screaming down the smoke stack of Saddam Hussein’s favorite Baghdad BBQ joint.

Her first detonation came within seconds, taking us both by surprise, her hips flying up off the bed to scrunch herself even harder against the white bulb of my deadly weapon.

“Oh my, that was a quickie, Mistress. I wonder how long it will take for two more?”

“Really….”

I let her come down for just a moment, before I renewed my assault, sliding the bulb hard against her swollen clit. She used all the clever evasive techniques at her disposal, but she could hardly move far with her hands tied  tightly above her head.

Within a minute of so she surrendered to the inevitable, moaning and squeezing the device tightly with her thighs. Maybe she thought she could crush the pesky thing, but then what would she use for her next date with M?

“That’s really enough Slave…..why don’t you fuck me now.”

Well, of course I was tempted. My cock had been ready for that since before the Hitachi had been armed and deployed. But I felt I still owed Mistress another one.

“Calm yourself, Mistress…one more and this special operation can move on to the looting and plundering stage.”

She resigned herself to her fate, and I used the tool to slowly bring her to the top again, watching her spill over the side into the thundering waters of another thrashing and moaning climax.

Mission accomplished, I thumbed the tool off, putting it aside for its next deployment.

Mistress was a bit out of it by now, her legs still tossing from side to side a bit, her lead lolling back against the bed. So I neither sought nor received permission to mount her. I simply took her.

Without complaint, I might add. Her cunt was oh so wet and open that it seemed to swallow me whole, with greedy delight,

I could see Mistress I-phone on the bed table. It shook a bit, presumably with the arrival of another message from M, his curiosity on high alert, looking for an update.

I could hear him at home, having dispatched his Icelandic Nemesis on the golf course: “What are those two crazies up to?”

I figured that, in due time, Mistress would thank him for that wake up call.

But he could wait just a bit longer.

.

Switch Day: The Second Movement

Now that Mistress was awakened from her little beauty nap by the perverse curiosity of our Western Correspondent, it was time to spring my trap: a Switch Day reprise to make up for my deficiency the prior Sunday.

I had the locking black wrist cuffs at the ready,

As I rolled over to grab them at the side of the bed, Mistress knew something was up.

“What are you up to Slave?”

“Just making sure you got your Sub’s worth today, Slut!”

She put  some token resistance as I fastened the cuff to her left wrist, a but surprised, but seemingly more than game to reprise her morning role   as my little bound fuck-toy.

But she felt a need to share the moment.

“Let’s take a photo to let M know that he got this ball rolling, Slave.”

So I took a few seconds off from restraining Mistress, snapped the photo of her bound wrist,  and let her send the taunting message to M.

“I told him that he woke us up, and now you are forcing yourself on me, Slave.”

Then the chime on her phone was turned off. I was going to take all her attention for the next 30 minutes or so.

With her hands bound together, overhead, Mistress was sufficiently helpless. She was forced to endure my fondling, sucking, nipping and tongue thrusting until our chambers were redolent with the sweet and musky aroma of her arousal.

Yum.

That’ when I reached for the Hitachi, still on the floor, rested and ready from it’s morning maneuvers.

Mistress’s eyes widened. She liked what she saw. But with a little effort,  could I get her to consider it too much of a good thing?

That was the afternoon’s objective: test Mistress’s limits.

“Oh, goodie, bonus time with the power tool, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress. Do I recall you saying that you had three cums on your Friday morning date with M?”

“Uhhh…..yeah….”

“Well I don’t think my little weekend reclamation project will be done until I can at least match that…”

By now the Hitachi was churning away at  her, and with Mistress on her back, legs spread about as wide as she could split them, it was easy for me to zero in on my target, sort of like one of those cruise missiles screaming down the smoke stack of Saddam Hussein’s favorite Baghdad BBQ joint.

Her first detonation came within seconds, taking us both by surprise, her hips flying up off the bed to scrunch herself even harder against the white bulb of my deadly weapon.

“Oh my, that was a quickie, Mistress. I wonder how long it will take for two more?”

“Really….”

I let her come down for just a moment, before I renewed my assault, sliding the bulb hard against her swollen clit. She used all the clever evasive techniques at her disposal, but she could hardly move far with her hands tied  tightly above her head.

Within a minute of so she surrendered to the inevitable, moaning and squeezing the device tightly with her thighs. Maybe she thought she could crush the pesky thing, but then what would she use for her next date with M?

“That’s really enough Slave…..why don’t you fuck me now.”

Well, of course I was tempted. My cock had been ready for that since before the Hitachi had been armed and deployed. But I felt I still owed Mistress another one.

“Calm yourself, Mistress…one more and this special operation can move on to the looting and plundering stage.”

She resigned herself to her fate, and I used the tool to slowly bring her to the top again, watching her spill over the side into the thundering waters of another thrashing and moaning climax.

Mission accomplished, I thumbed the tool off, putting it aside for its next deployment.

Mistress was a bit out of it by now, her legs still tossing from side to side a bit, her lead lolling back against the bed. So I neither sought nor received permission to mount her. I simply took her.

Without complaint, I might add. Her cunt was oh so wet and open that it seemed to swallow me whole, with greedy delight,

I could see Mistress I-phone on the bed table. It shook a bit, presumably with the arrival of another message from M, his curiosity on high alert, looking for an update.

I could hear him at home, having dispatched his Icelandic Nemesis on the golf course: “What are those two crazies up to?”

I figured that, in due time, Mistress would thank him for that wake up call.

But he could wait just a bit longer.

.

Switch Day: The Second Movement

Now that Mistress was awakened from her little beauty nap by the perverse curiosity of our Western Correspondent, it was time to spring my trap: a Switch Day reprise to make up for my deficiency the prior Sunday.

I had the locking black wrist cuffs at the ready,

As I rolled over to grab them at the side of the bed, Mistress knew something was up.

“What are you up to Slave?”

“Just making sure you got your Sub’s worth today, Slut!”

She put  some token resistance as I fastened the cuff to her left wrist, a but surprised, but seemingly more than game to reprise her morning role   as my little bound fuck-toy.

But she felt a need to share the moment.

“Let’s take a photo to let M know that he got this ball rolling, Slave.”

So I took a few seconds off from restraining Mistress, snapped the photo of her bound wrist,  and let her send the taunting message to M.

“I told him that he woke us up, and now you are forcing yourself on me, Slave.”

Then the chime on her phone was turned off. I was going to take all her attention for the next 30 minutes or so.

With her hands bound together, overhead, Mistress was sufficiently helpless. She was forced to endure my fondling, sucking, nipping and tongue thrusting until our chambers were redolent with the sweet and musky aroma of her arousal.

Yum.

That’ when I reached for the Hitachi, still on the floor, rested and ready from it’s morning maneuvers.

Mistress’s eyes widened. She liked what she saw. But with a little effort,  could I get her to consider it too much of a good thing?

That was the afternoon’s objective: test Mistress’s limits.

“Oh, goodie, bonus time with the power tool, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress. Do I recall you saying that you had three cums on your Friday morning date with M?”

“Uhhh…..yeah….”

“Well I don’t think my little weekend reclamation project will be done until I can at least match that…”

By now the Hitachi was churning away at  her, and with Mistress on her back, legs spread about as wide as she could split them, it was easy for me to zero in on my target, sort of like one of those cruise missiles screaming down the smoke stack of Saddam Hussein’s favorite Baghdad BBQ joint.

Her first detonation came within seconds, taking us both by surprise, her hips flying up off the bed to scrunch herself even harder against the white bulb of my deadly weapon.

“Oh my, that was a quickie, Mistress. I wonder how long it will take for two more?”

“Really….”

I let her come down for just a moment, before I renewed my assault, sliding the bulb hard against her swollen clit. She used all the clever evasive techniques at her disposal, but she could hardly move far with her hands tied  tightly above her head.

Within a minute of so she surrendered to the inevitable, moaning and squeezing the device tightly with her thighs. Maybe she thought she could crush the pesky thing, but then what would she use for her next date with M?

“That’s really enough Slave…..why don’t you fuck me now.”

Well, of course I was tempted. My cock had been ready for that since before the Hitachi had been armed and deployed. But I felt I still owed Mistress another one.

“Calm yourself, Mistress…one more and this special operation can move on to the looting and plundering stage.”

She resigned herself to her fate, and I used the tool to slowly bring her to the top again, watching her spill over the side into the thundering waters of another thrashing and moaning climax.

Mission accomplished, I thumbed the tool off, putting it aside for its next deployment.

Mistress was a bit out of it by now, her legs still tossing from side to side a bit, her lead lolling back against the bed. So I neither sought nor received permission to mount her. I simply took her.

Without complaint, I might add. Her cunt was oh so wet and open that it seemed to swallow me whole, with greedy delight,

I could see Mistress I-phone on the bed table. It shook a bit, presumably with the arrival of another message from M, his curiosity on high alert, looking for an update.

I could hear him at home, having dispatched his Icelandic Nemesis on the golf course: “What are those two crazies up to?”

I figured that, in due time, Mistress would thank him for that wake up call.

But he could wait just a bit longer.

.

Switch Day: Interlude

After Mistress was released from her restraints, and emerged from subspace, we went back to our post switch Sunday routines - grocery shopping, a bike ride, and then off to our neighborhood swim club.

I played bike mechanic, replacing the brake pads on Mistress's bike.I am a useful little Slave, aren't I.

When she came down for our ride she mentioned that M had called.

"I think he wanted to know if we did Switch Day, Slave....he likes to keep track."

I can understand that. A good cyber Master wants to make sure his Slave is well taken care of, particularly on switch day.

"Did you give him the details, Mistress?"

"I told him that we did some interesting switch stuff, Slave. And that he could read about it in the morning."

"You didn't tell him you got the spanking he ordered?"

"Uhhh....I guess not, Slave."

Later, at our swim club, Mistress mentioned that M had been texting her from the golf course, while matching birdies with his "Icelandic Nemesis." I figured I would give him a little tease. As Mistress was swimming her laps (she does work at keeping that ass and those legs shapely), I sent M my own text message.

"Your Slave got that good spanking."

and we traded a few choice ones:

"Good she needed one."

"Mistress responds well to the Hitachi when tied down."

"I'll bet she does."

When I read these and a few more to Mistress after she was done with her laps, she seemed a little .... flustered.

"Are you guys conspiring against me, Slave?"

Exactly.

Later that afternoon, we retreated home out of the smoggy, hot late summer air. The kids were out. I was planning a little switch redoux for Mistress, to make up for my default last Sunday.

But she was sleepy.

"Wake me before dinner, Slave."

And of course I never like to mess with Mistress's beauty rest.

But this is where I got an assist from my "wingman".

After Mistress had snoozed for about 20 minutes the chime on her I-phone went off. She stirred, picked it up. Then giggled.

"It's M. He says he hasn't heard from me in a while. wants to know if we're having sex."

It was just the little prod I needed.

Switch Day: Interlude

After Mistress was released from her restraints, and emerged from subspace, we went back to our post switch Sunday routines - grocery shopping, a bike ride, and then off to our neighborhood swim club.

I played bike mechanic, replacing the brake pads on Mistress's bike.I am a useful little Slave, aren't I.

When she came down for our ride she mentioned that M had called.

"I think he wanted to know if we did Switch Day, Slave....he likes to keep track."

I can understand that. A good cyber Master wants to make sure his Slave is well taken care of, particularly on switch day.

"Did you give him the details, Mistress?"

"I told him that we did some interesting switch stuff, Slave. And that he could read about it in the morning."

"You didn't tell him you got the spanking he ordered?"

"Uhhh....I guess not, Slave."

Later, at our swim club, Mistress mentioned that M had been texting her from the golf course, while matching birdies with his "Icelandic Nemesis." I figured I would give him a little tease. As Mistress was swimming her laps (she does work at keeping that ass and those legs shapely), I sent M my own text message.

"Your Slave got that good spanking."

and we traded a few choice ones:

"Good she needed one."

"Mistress responds well to the Hitachi when tied down."

"I'll bet she does."

When I read these and a few more to Mistress after she was done with her laps, she seemed a little .... flustered.

"Are you guys conspiring against me, Slave?"

Exactly.

Later that afternoon, we retreated home out of the smoggy, hot late summer air. The kids were out. I was planning a little switch redoux for Mistress, to make up for my default last Sunday.

But she was sleepy.

"Wake me before dinner, Slave."

And of course I never like to mess with Mistress's beauty rest.

But this is where I got an assist from my "wingman".

After Mistress had snoozed for about 20 minutes the chime on her I-phone went off. She stirred, picked it up. Then giggled.

"It's M. He says he hasn't heard from me in a while. wants to know if we're having sex."

It was just the little prod I needed.

Switch Day: Interlude

After Mistress was released from her restraints, and emerged from subspace, we went back to our post switch Sunday routines - grocery shopping, a bike ride, and then off to our neighborhood swim club.

I played bike mechanic, replacing the brake pads on Mistress's bike.I am a useful little Slave, aren't I.

When she came down for our ride she mentioned that M had called.

"I think he wanted to know if we did Switch Day, Slave....he likes to keep track."

I can understand that. A good cyber Master wants to make sure his Slave is well taken care of, particularly on switch day.

"Did you give him the details, Mistress?"

"I told him that we did some interesting switch stuff, Slave. And that he could read about it in the morning."

"You didn't tell him you got the spanking he ordered?"

"Uhhh....I guess not, Slave."

Later, at our swim club, Mistress mentioned that M had been texting her from the golf course, while matching birdies with his "Icelandic Nemesis." I figured I would give him a little tease. As Mistress was swimming her laps (she does work at keeping that ass and those legs shapely), I sent M my own text message.

"Your Slave got that good spanking."

and we traded a few choice ones:

"Good she needed one."

"Mistress responds well to the Hitachi when tied down."

"I'll bet she does."

When I read these and a few more to Mistress after she was done with her laps, she seemed a little .... flustered.

"Are you guys conspiring against me, Slave?"

Exactly.

Later that afternoon, we retreated home out of the smoggy, hot late summer air. The kids were out. I was planning a little switch redoux for Mistress, to make up for my default last Sunday.

But she was sleepy.

"Wake me before dinner, Slave."

And of course I never like to mess with Mistress's beauty rest.

But this is where I got an assist from my "wingman".

After Mistress had snoozed for about 20 minutes the chime on her I-phone went off. She stirred, picked it up. Then giggled.

"It's M. He says he hasn't heard from me in a while. wants to know if we're having sex."

It was just the little prod I needed.

Switch Day: Interlude

After Mistress was released from her restraints, and emerged from subspace, we went back to our post switch Sunday routines - grocery shopping, a bike ride, and then off to our neighborhood swim club.

I played bike mechanic, replacing the brake pads on Mistress's bike.I am a useful little Slave, aren't I.

When she came down for our ride she mentioned that M had called.

"I think he wanted to know if we did Switch Day, Slave....he likes to keep track."

I can understand that. A good cyber Master wants to make sure his Slave is well taken care of, particularly on switch day.

"Did you give him the details, Mistress?"

"I told him that we did some interesting switch stuff, Slave. And that he could read about it in the morning."

"You didn't tell him you got the spanking he ordered?"

"Uhhh....I guess not, Slave."

Later, at our swim club, Mistress mentioned that M had been texting her from the golf course, while matching birdies with his "Icelandic Nemesis." I figured I would give him a little tease. As Mistress was swimming her laps (she does work at keeping that ass and those legs shapely), I sent M my own text message.

"Your Slave got that good spanking."

and we traded a few choice ones:

"Good she needed one."

"Mistress responds well to the Hitachi when tied down."

"I'll bet she does."

When I read these and a few more to Mistress after she was done with her laps, she seemed a little .... flustered.

"Are you guys conspiring against me, Slave?"

Exactly.

Later that afternoon, we retreated home out of the smoggy, hot late summer air. The kids were out. I was planning a little switch redoux for Mistress, to make up for my default last Sunday.

But she was sleepy.

"Wake me before dinner, Slave."

And of course I never like to mess with Mistress's beauty rest.

But this is where I got an assist from my "wingman".

After Mistress had snoozed for about 20 minutes the chime on her I-phone went off. She stirred, picked it up. Then giggled.

"It's M. He says he hasn't heard from me in a while. wants to know if we're having sex."

It was just the little prod I needed.

Switch Day in Two Movements

Movement One.

It came out during our chat with ‘Nilla this week.

Mistress missed our switch day last Sunday.

I guess I have mistakenly assumed that switch day was something in the contract that gave me a day off.

Stupid Slave.

As ‘Nilla reminded me, being a Domme is hard work. Mistress looks forward to it as much, maybe more, than I do.

It’s a day for her to let go, give up command, lay back and enjoy. And maybe suffer a little too.

So I resolved to make it up to her this week.

And M had said that she deserved a good spanking. I promised to he his trusty surrogate.

And as it turns out, Mistress got her lost switch day back, with interest.

Yesterday morning, after I did my writing, and Mistress lolled in bed, I woke her around 8:30 or so.  We read the bad news in our morning paper, focusing on the nastiness in DC, where some Fox News refugees were doing their darn-dest to turn the Dream of 1963 into their own Nightmare.

But after Mistress read the blog (and a few others too), I  snapped on the little red cuffs, rolled Mistress on to her tummy, and fixed them overhead to the little eyebolt  screwed into the head of our bed.

After that, I used some strips of an old soft beach towel to tie her legs, spread wide, to the corners of or bed.

The little slut was going no where.

Mistress knew she was due for a spanking.

Her flippant attitude was saying “bring it on.”

But I was in no rush. I want her nice and juicy before she got what was coming to her.

So out came the Hitachi. I slid it under her, thumbed it on.

Uhhh…..oh goody….nice, Slave.”

She was humping it, as I stood up.

Of course I knew that it was just short of where she could get the purchase she needed for the type of climax she was already craving.

So I stood up, grabbed my camera and snapped off a few shots of her little kinky dance, as her ass danced and squirmed straining at her bonds, trying to capture the vibrating head against her clit, but failing so delightfully.

Her body seemed to be glowing with the dew of her frustration when I sat down next to her on the bed and abruptly pulled the Hitachi away, switching it off.

“That’s so unfair, Slave…..”

“But I know what you really want is that spanking….don’t you think M would be disappointed if you did not get one this morning?”

She growled at me in frustration, but conceded, “I suppose he would, Slave.”

That’s when I gave her the first of many, many slaps to that steamy ass. From the left side of the bed. From the right side of the bed. In flurries. Or one at a time.

At one point I heard one of the surly teens stirring in the hallway, so I got up to turn up the music a few notches, just to mask the sound of the slapping as I landed blow after blow on her ass.

But something was wrong.

Mistress was not complaining. There were no moans, No begging for me to stop. She was taking it and taking it. She was a glutton for whatever pain I was inflicting.

I wondered if my hands were not hard enough, so I picked up the  long wooden shoe horn that makes me squirm and moan into a pillow when she uses it on me.

I landed a flurry of what should have been stinging slaps with that sucker. And Mistress took them like a walk on the beach.

Apparently she has a much higher threshold of pain on her delicious fleshy bottom than my scraggly one can endure.

I made a mental note that I needed to press the edge of the envelope on this one.

But by now Slave was getting a little hornier, and I was getting a little paranoid about what Surly Teen #2 might be thinking her parents were up to in there with the music so loud.

So without any begging for mercy from Mistress, I surrendered to her amazing ability to  take a spanking, took a quick photo of her reddened ass, and settled down next to her on the bed.

“You are quite the little pain slut, aren’t you, Mistress?”

I was rubbing her bottom, an errant finger dipping between her cheeks, testing the very wet and steamy waters.

“Mmmmm…. “  She wriggled in contentment, her channel sopping cunt swallowing  my finger like a venus fly trap devouring an unsuspecting spider.

I don’t think that was a denial.

I picked up the Hitachi, thumbed it on.

“Let’s see how you take this Mistress.”

I forced it between her legs, set at high.

Oh she liked it all right.

Her body was stretching every which way to find the right way to press that churning tool where she needed it to be. But with her legs spread and bound, she could not grip it the way her throbbing clit demanded.

But I was no longer playing the cruel Master. I did what I could to help her along, thrusting the tool up and under her, searching for that spot.

And the payoff was a devastating explosion of twisiting limbs, straining against the fabric and leather binding her tight, torqued to the max as she rose up, rolled left to right, sobbing against the rich blue sheets.

And of course the binding allowed me to keep the wand exactly where she didn’t want it to be even as she came down, hips bucking,,,,

“No, Slave…..no more.”

It’s what I had not heard as I spanked her.

So in my perverse pleasure of finally hearing those protests, I kept it up, forcing another one from her before finally withdrawing the tool.

She was shuddering,  moaning a bit, But she wasn’t done.

“Oh, God,,,, please fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Switch Day in Two Movements

Movement One.

It came out during our chat with ‘Nilla this week.

Mistress missed our switch day last Sunday.

I guess I have mistakenly assumed that switch day was something in the contract that gave me a day off.

Stupid Slave.

As ‘Nilla reminded me, being a Domme is hard work. Mistress looks forward to it as much, maybe more, than I do.

It’s a day for her to let go, give up command, lay back and enjoy. And maybe suffer a little too.

So I resolved to make it up to her this week.

And M had said that she deserved a good spanking. I promised to he his trusty surrogate.

And as it turns out, Mistress got her lost switch day back, with interest.

Yesterday morning, after I did my writing, and Mistress lolled in bed, I woke her around 8:30 or so.  We read the bad news in our morning paper, focusing on the nastiness in DC, where some Fox News refugees were doing their darn-dest to turn the Dream of 1963 into their own Nightmare.

But after Mistress read the blog (and a few others too), I  snapped on the little red cuffs, rolled Mistress on to her tummy, and fixed them overhead to the little eyebolt  screwed into the head of our bed.

After that, I used some strips of an old soft beach towel to tie her legs, spread wide, to the corners of or bed.

The little slut was going no where.

Mistress knew she was due for a spanking.

Her flippant attitude was saying “bring it on.”

But I was in no rush. I want her nice and juicy before she got what was coming to her.

So out came the Hitachi. I slid it under her, thumbed it on.

Uhhh…..oh goody….nice, Slave.”

She was humping it, as I stood up.

Of course I knew that it was just short of where she could get the purchase she needed for the type of climax she was already craving.

So I stood up, grabbed my camera and snapped off a few shots of her little kinky dance, as her ass danced and squirmed straining at her bonds, trying to capture the vibrating head against her clit, but failing so delightfully.

Her body seemed to be glowing with the dew of her frustration when I sat down next to her on the bed and abruptly pulled the Hitachi away, switching it off.

“That’s so unfair, Slave…..”

“But I know what you really want is that spanking….don’t you think M would be disappointed if you did not get one this morning?”

She growled at me in frustration, but conceded, “I suppose he would, Slave.”

That’s when I gave her the first of many, many slaps to that steamy ass. From the left side of the bed. From the right side of the bed. In flurries. Or one at a time.

At one point I heard one of the surly teens stirring in the hallway, so I got up to turn up the music a few notches, just to mask the sound of the slapping as I landed blow after blow on her ass.

But something was wrong.

Mistress was not complaining. There were no moans, No begging for me to stop. She was taking it and taking it. She was a glutton for whatever pain I was inflicting.

I wondered if my hands were not hard enough, so I picked up the  long wooden shoe horn that makes me squirm and moan into a pillow when she uses it on me.

I landed a flurry of what should have been stinging slaps with that sucker. And Mistress took them like a walk on the beach.

Apparently she has a much higher threshold of pain on her delicious fleshy bottom than my scraggly one can endure.

I made a mental note that I needed to press the edge of the envelope on this one.

But by now Slave was getting a little hornier, and I was getting a little paranoid about what Surly Teen #2 might be thinking her parents were up to in there with the music so loud.

So without any begging for mercy from Mistress, I surrendered to her amazing ability to  take a spanking, took a quick photo of her reddened ass, and settled down next to her on the bed.

“You are quite the little pain slut, aren’t you, Mistress?”

I was rubbing her bottom, an errant finger dipping between her cheeks, testing the very wet and steamy waters.

“Mmmmm…. “  She wriggled in contentment, her channel sopping cunt swallowing  my finger like a venus fly trap devouring an unsuspecting spider.

I don’t think that was a denial.

I picked up the Hitachi, thumbed it on.

“Let’s see how you take this Mistress.”

I forced it between her legs, set at high.

Oh she liked it all right.

Her body was stretching every which way to find the right way to press that churning tool where she needed it to be. But with her legs spread and bound, she could not grip it the way her throbbing clit demanded.

But I was no longer playing the cruel Master. I did what I could to help her along, thrusting the tool up and under her, searching for that spot.

And the payoff was a devastating explosion of twisiting limbs, straining against the fabric and leather binding her tight, torqued to the max as she rose up, rolled left to right, sobbing against the rich blue sheets.

And of course the binding allowed me to keep the wand exactly where she didn’t want it to be even as she came down, hips bucking,,,,

“No, Slave…..no more.”

It’s what I had not heard as I spanked her.

So in my perverse pleasure of finally hearing those protests, I kept it up, forcing another one from her before finally withdrawing the tool.

She was shuddering,  moaning a bit, But she wasn’t done.

“Oh, God,,,, please fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Switch Day in Two Movements

Movement One.

It came out during our chat with ‘Nilla this week.

Mistress missed our switch day last Sunday.

I guess I have mistakenly assumed that switch day was something in the contract that gave me a day off.

Stupid Slave.

As ‘Nilla reminded me, being a Domme is hard work. Mistress looks forward to it as much, maybe more, than I do.

It’s a day for her to let go, give up command, lay back and enjoy. And maybe suffer a little too.

So I resolved to make it up to her this week.

And M had said that she deserved a good spanking. I promised to he his trusty surrogate.

And as it turns out, Mistress got her lost switch day back, with interest.

Yesterday morning, after I did my writing, and Mistress lolled in bed, I woke her around 8:30 or so.  We read the bad news in our morning paper, focusing on the nastiness in DC, where some Fox News refugees were doing their darn-dest to turn the Dream of 1963 into their own Nightmare.

But after Mistress read the blog (and a few others too), I  snapped on the little red cuffs, rolled Mistress on to her tummy, and fixed them overhead to the little eyebolt  screwed into the head of our bed.

After that, I used some strips of an old soft beach towel to tie her legs, spread wide, to the corners of or bed.

The little slut was going no where.

Mistress knew she was due for a spanking.

Her flippant attitude was saying “bring it on.”

But I was in no rush. I want her nice and juicy before she got what was coming to her.

So out came the Hitachi. I slid it under her, thumbed it on.

Uhhh…..oh goody….nice, Slave.”

She was humping it, as I stood up.

Of course I knew that it was just short of where she could get the purchase she needed for the type of climax she was already craving.

So I stood up, grabbed my camera and snapped off a few shots of her little kinky dance, as her ass danced and squirmed straining at her bonds, trying to capture the vibrating head against her clit, but failing so delightfully.

Her body seemed to be glowing with the dew of her frustration when I sat down next to her on the bed and abruptly pulled the Hitachi away, switching it off.

“That’s so unfair, Slave…..”

“But I know what you really want is that spanking….don’t you think M would be disappointed if you did not get one this morning?”

She growled at me in frustration, but conceded, “I suppose he would, Slave.”

That’s when I gave her the first of many, many slaps to that steamy ass. From the left side of the bed. From the right side of the bed. In flurries. Or one at a time.

At one point I heard one of the surly teens stirring in the hallway, so I got up to turn up the music a few notches, just to mask the sound of the slapping as I landed blow after blow on her ass.

But something was wrong.

Mistress was not complaining. There were no moans, No begging for me to stop. She was taking it and taking it. She was a glutton for whatever pain I was inflicting.

I wondered if my hands were not hard enough, so I picked up the  long wooden shoe horn that makes me squirm and moan into a pillow when she uses it on me.

I landed a flurry of what should have been stinging slaps with that sucker. And Mistress took them like a walk on the beach.

Apparently she has a much higher threshold of pain on her delicious fleshy bottom than my scraggly one can endure.

I made a mental note that I needed to press the edge of the envelope on this one.

But by now Slave was getting a little hornier, and I was getting a little paranoid about what Surly Teen #2 might be thinking her parents were up to in there with the music so loud.

So without any begging for mercy from Mistress, I surrendered to her amazing ability to  take a spanking, took a quick photo of her reddened ass, and settled down next to her on the bed.

“You are quite the little pain slut, aren’t you, Mistress?”

I was rubbing her bottom, an errant finger dipping between her cheeks, testing the very wet and steamy waters.

“Mmmmm…. “  She wriggled in contentment, her channel sopping cunt swallowing  my finger like a venus fly trap devouring an unsuspecting spider.

I don’t think that was a denial.

I picked up the Hitachi, thumbed it on.

“Let’s see how you take this Mistress.”

I forced it between her legs, set at high.

Oh she liked it all right.

Her body was stretching every which way to find the right way to press that churning tool where she needed it to be. But with her legs spread and bound, she could not grip it the way her throbbing clit demanded.

But I was no longer playing the cruel Master. I did what I could to help her along, thrusting the tool up and under her, searching for that spot.

And the payoff was a devastating explosion of twisiting limbs, straining against the fabric and leather binding her tight, torqued to the max as she rose up, rolled left to right, sobbing against the rich blue sheets.

And of course the binding allowed me to keep the wand exactly where she didn’t want it to be even as she came down, hips bucking,,,,

“No, Slave…..no more.”

It’s what I had not heard as I spanked her.

So in my perverse pleasure of finally hearing those protests, I kept it up, forcing another one from her before finally withdrawing the tool.

She was shuddering,  moaning a bit, But she wasn’t done.

“Oh, God,,,, please fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Switch Day in Two Movements

Movement One.

It came out during our chat with ‘Nilla this week.

Mistress missed our switch day last Sunday.

I guess I have mistakenly assumed that switch day was something in the contract that gave me a day off.

Stupid Slave.

As ‘Nilla reminded me, being a Domme is hard work. Mistress looks forward to it as much, maybe more, than I do.

It’s a day for her to let go, give up command, lay back and enjoy. And maybe suffer a little too.

So I resolved to make it up to her this week.

And M had said that she deserved a good spanking. I promised to he his trusty surrogate.

And as it turns out, Mistress got her lost switch day back, with interest.

Yesterday morning, after I did my writing, and Mistress lolled in bed, I woke her around 8:30 or so.  We read the bad news in our morning paper, focusing on the nastiness in DC, where some Fox News refugees were doing their darn-dest to turn the Dream of 1963 into their own Nightmare.

But after Mistress read the blog (and a few others too), I  snapped on the little red cuffs, rolled Mistress on to her tummy, and fixed them overhead to the little eyebolt  screwed into the head of our bed.

After that, I used some strips of an old soft beach towel to tie her legs, spread wide, to the corners of or bed.

The little slut was going no where.

Mistress knew she was due for a spanking.

Her flippant attitude was saying “bring it on.”

But I was in no rush. I want her nice and juicy before she got what was coming to her.

So out came the Hitachi. I slid it under her, thumbed it on.

Uhhh…..oh goody….nice, Slave.”

She was humping it, as I stood up.

Of course I knew that it was just short of where she could get the purchase she needed for the type of climax she was already craving.

So I stood up, grabbed my camera and snapped off a few shots of her little kinky dance, as her ass danced and squirmed straining at her bonds, trying to capture the vibrating head against her clit, but failing so delightfully.

Her body seemed to be glowing with the dew of her frustration when I sat down next to her on the bed and abruptly pulled the Hitachi away, switching it off.

“That’s so unfair, Slave…..”

“But I know what you really want is that spanking….don’t you think M would be disappointed if you did not get one this morning?”

She growled at me in frustration, but conceded, “I suppose he would, Slave.”

That’s when I gave her the first of many, many slaps to that steamy ass. From the left side of the bed. From the right side of the bed. In flurries. Or one at a time.

At one point I heard one of the surly teens stirring in the hallway, so I got up to turn up the music a few notches, just to mask the sound of the slapping as I landed blow after blow on her ass.

But something was wrong.

Mistress was not complaining. There were no moans, No begging for me to stop. She was taking it and taking it. She was a glutton for whatever pain I was inflicting.

I wondered if my hands were not hard enough, so I picked up the  long wooden shoe horn that makes me squirm and moan into a pillow when she uses it on me.

I landed a flurry of what should have been stinging slaps with that sucker. And Mistress took them like a walk on the beach.

Apparently she has a much higher threshold of pain on her delicious fleshy bottom than my scraggly one can endure.

I made a mental note that I needed to press the edge of the envelope on this one.

But by now Slave was getting a little hornier, and I was getting a little paranoid about what Surly Teen #2 might be thinking her parents were up to in there with the music so loud.

So without any begging for mercy from Mistress, I surrendered to her amazing ability to  take a spanking, took a quick photo of her reddened ass, and settled down next to her on the bed.

“You are quite the little pain slut, aren’t you, Mistress?”

I was rubbing her bottom, an errant finger dipping between her cheeks, testing the very wet and steamy waters.

“Mmmmm…. “  She wriggled in contentment, her channel sopping cunt swallowing  my finger like a venus fly trap devouring an unsuspecting spider.

I don’t think that was a denial.

I picked up the Hitachi, thumbed it on.

“Let’s see how you take this Mistress.”

I forced it between her legs, set at high.

Oh she liked it all right.

Her body was stretching every which way to find the right way to press that churning tool where she needed it to be. But with her legs spread and bound, she could not grip it the way her throbbing clit demanded.

But I was no longer playing the cruel Master. I did what I could to help her along, thrusting the tool up and under her, searching for that spot.

And the payoff was a devastating explosion of twisiting limbs, straining against the fabric and leather binding her tight, torqued to the max as she rose up, rolled left to right, sobbing against the rich blue sheets.

And of course the binding allowed me to keep the wand exactly where she didn’t want it to be even as she came down, hips bucking,,,,

“No, Slave…..no more.”

It’s what I had not heard as I spanked her.

So in my perverse pleasure of finally hearing those protests, I kept it up, forcing another one from her before finally withdrawing the tool.

She was shuddering,  moaning a bit, But she wasn’t done.

“Oh, God,,,, please fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”