The Frustrated Mistress

It’s usually the Slave that gets frustrated in this household.

Either by denial – locked in my little cock cage – or when I am allowed to fuck Mistress to my hearts desire, but the tipping point to orgasm seems achingly out of reach.

But yesterday’s Switch day waas a different story.

Mistress was tied to the bed. Her wrists locked in our red leather cuffs, linked over head and lashed to the bed.

She was on her tummy, bottom available and exposed.

And her ankles were tied together tightly, making it harder for her to spread her luscious legs.

I began with a thorough cropping of that ripe bottom (or as one commenter has referred to it her “sweet ass.”) As I lavished it with red stripes we discussed Sin’s recent observations on her relationship with M:

“I think she was closer to the mark than you would like to admit, Mistress….”

“Oh really, Slave?”

“Yes….I think you are longing to submit to him, grovel for him the way I have groveled for you….but you are too proud to admit it.”

A new blow landed.  

“Ouch….that hurt…., Slave…but you may be right, I’m not much for groveling, am I….”

Before I was done with her bottom, and after a few hand spanks were thrown in,  it was red and she was squirming against the bed. And - big surprise - the intoxicating smell of her runny little cunt was all about our bed chambers.

I lay next to her on the bed, a hand roving over her bottom and back, feeling the little red welts I had left behind. And, of course, dipping between her ass cheeks to confirm how wet she had become. Mistress seems well programmed to anticipate a good fucking after a good cropping.

But first….the power tool.

It was resting beside the bed. I flipped it on and slid it through her legs from behind.

She squirmed as best she could with bound ankles to accommodate it.

“Oh…good Slave…., finally.”

And her wriggling began in earnest.

I had my head resting on her back, enjoying the little show she puts on, with her well defined ass and leg muscles flexing, relaxing, flexing some more, as she tried with increasing desperation to extract what her cunt demanded from the churning tool.

But her bound ankles were a confounding obstacle to her prime objective.

She could not spread those heavenly legs wide enough to get the access that her clit demanded from the churning white bulb of the Hitachi.

But that did not stop her.

Her hips began to rise and lower against the bed, all the while pumping and churning to grab tighter hold of the business end of the tool.

And I have to admit, I was not being all that helpful. Yes, my wrist had the little device engaged between those gripping thighs.

But did I do my best to slide it under her where she needed it to be?

Uhhh….not so much.

“You seem a little frustrated, Mistress. Should I turn it off for a while and let you relax a while?  Maybe go make us some coffee as you languish in your bonds?”

Her expletives have been deleted.

By now her body was glowing and damp with her perspiration. Her hips kept churning, though I could tell her muscles were beginning to strain and tire.

“Maybe you’d like me to help you roll over….?”

“No….just a little more………ohhhhhh…….yes , OK, roll me over.”

“How do you want to ask that, Mistress?

She moans in further frustration…..

“Please, Slave, roll me over….”

“Of course, Mistress.”

By now our sheets were damp….very damp. I noted with delight the dark stain where her cunt had been pumping so hard but fruitlessly  against the sheets.

On her back now, Mistress did her best to spread her legs, still bound at the ankles.

And I must say that as I pressed the tool against her, I was beyond trying to frustrate her. She throbbed and squirmed and pressed her self against it.

But still……She was just not quite there.

Her head was pitching back and forth, damp locks sticking to her face, her mouth devouring my tongue when I saw fit to share it with her.

The show was a good one, but I was feeling a little sorry for her by now.

“Maybe I should untie your legs, Mistress?”

“Oh, yes, please Slave…..”

She had the tone right, so I switched off the tool, and stepped away, untying her legs, helping her stretch and flex them.  Then sliding on top of her….

“What are you doing, Slave?”

He voice sounded a bit panicked.  She wanted that tool back. Now.

“Well my cock has been so hard for so long, I thought I might fuck you now.”

More expletives deleted.

I did for a bit, giving her a taste. Enjoying the warm embrace of that frustrated cunt. Lavishing her with kisses. But knowing she was far too gone for the sweet treatment.

Even a Slave on Switch day is not so cruel as to deny his Mistress what she really needed.

So I withdrew and the tool was re-engaged. And mistress spread those wondrous legs far and wide, allowing the device prime access to her needy and throbbing clit, which by now was probably on red alert.

And Mistress was convulsing and writhing and pumping those hips into the air to (finally) come with a deep and expansive moan of relief.

The after shocks were still racking her soaking body when I finally turned the machine off, resting my head on her chest, an arm comforting her as tears wet her face and sobs racked her.

But she was not done. Not just yet.

“Fuck me now, Slave….I need my cock.”

“Of curse, Mistress.”