"Keep it Hard for me Slave."

 "Hmmm. What have we here."

Mistress raised her eyebrows. Poked with a curious finger through my boringly white briefs.

She had just discovered that my cock was firmer than one might expect after a long day of bike rides, entertaining the kids, and then  pizza  at a local joint, known for its east coast cuisine and big western views.

I thought I was tired. And full. It was not long ago that I was thinking about how to say “can this wait until morning”. 

I know: Bad slave.

But somehow our conversation had gotten those blood vessels doing what they do when the imagination is provoked.

It started with Mistress sharing tid bits of a story that M had sent her. A fantasy in which  she flew to Las Vegas to meet him. Was told to strip and wait in his room, watching porn. She was to toy with her parts, but no, absolutely no, coming.

At some point M would pay a fetching bellman to come to her room, and tie her to the bed. Tightly spreadeagled. Then Mistress would have to suffer quietly in her bonds, all desperate and frustrated, until M made his grand entrance.

No doubt some serious fucking would ensue. 

My reaction?

“Hmmm. That’s a good one Mistress….why don’t you ask M for permission to post it tomorrow….nice to know I have material to work with, and it’s been a while since our Western Correspondent earned his generous retainer and expense check.”

(Right).

Mistress got M’s consent (he must have been on-line), but then had a little trouble forwarding his tale.

“It’s kind of embarrassing , Slave….Below his email to me is some thing I sent him…..a little fantasy, but I feel funny about you seeing it…”

“Hmmm….You know I don’t mind Mistress. It’s hard for me to think that you’ve said things to him that I have not already imagined….After all….you do have the right, and my permission to fuck M and anyone else who catches your eye…..”

“still….you’re my husband and, I am kind of embarassed….You’ve talked about giving us a privacy zone …it just feels weird”

We talked a bit about the subject.

I do think, and have told Mistress,  that any relationship needs a zone of privacy to prosper and grow.  A place for those mushy words, exchanged fantasies, honest confessions of ….whatever.  And while Mistress had shared the power point highlights of her developing relationship with M, I have never insisted on all the details. (Not that I have a right to them, mind you).

What I do know about their interactions is more than hot enough to add a good deal of spice to our own sexual endeavors, as you devoted readers know. And there have been those moments when Slave has been invited to participate in their action.

So if Mistress wants to share her dark and sexy fantasies with M, and feels she should keep them a private matter, that is between the two of them. (though I am sure some of our readers would enjoy reading   a sanitized version of them now and again).

And the fact that all that talk about the parameters of the Mistress/M privacy zone led to my stiffening cock seemed to be an endorsement of our approach.

So where were we?

“Keep it hard for me as I get ready for bed, Slave.”

So there I was, book in one hand, my other hand filled with my stiffening cock, as Mistress did her nighttime rituals and donned  a sexy  combo of soft green top and panties  I had given her some Chrsitmas past..

Every now and then she glanced over her shoulder to make sure I was following orders.

“It should be harder, Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Then she was asking me for the location of the riding crop.

Yikes. Suddenly my cock was even harder. What a pavlovian doofus I’ve become.

When she was finally ready for me, crop in hand, she inspected my work.

“Nice, Slave. Very nice.” 

The tip of the crop caressed the length of me, inducing a twitch of longing.  But first things first.

“Roll over, Slave….”

I followed her direction, willingly presenting my ass to her, like a lamb walking to slaughter.

“”This is for forgetting to pack my harness, Slave.”

Mistress was annoyed that she would not be able to fuck me in the ass on this trip, because I failed to pack her equipment.

Definitely punishment worthy behavior.

Thwack, Thwack.

Man, that stung.  In quick succession, my ass got 8 or 9 sharp blows.

I  was squirming and bouncing off the bed. But I stifled my verbal feed back, to shelter the teens who were on the other side of our closed door, playing Monopoly.

“And these are for that thing that I don’t even want to talk about.”

Yes, Mick’s big screw up of two years ago. It’s better for her to punish me for it than keep it bottled up.

Three more sharp blows landed on my ass.

Painful, but it was glad to get that out of our systems..

Then she prodded me at my side.

“Rollover now, Slave. I want to see my cock.”

There it was for her, harder than ever.

She tossed the crop aside, and sat next to me on the bed, her hands softly caressing my balls and shaft.

And though my ass was still stinging,  the attention she was giving me made that sting fade quickly to deep background.

And soon I was squirming for a different reason.

“Would you like me to fuck you now, Mistress?”

But I suspect it sounded more like a plea than a question.

“You’re so impatient, Slave.”

The torment continued, with her soft lips added to the mix.

She does like to tease. But within a minute or two she must have grown tired of my pitiful desperation.

She slid off those sheer green panties, all the while eyeing my cock.

“I’m going to ride it now, Slave.”

And she did.