The Merciful Mistress

It’s looking pretty wet for our east coast readers this morning.

But it’s hard to imagine anything much damper than that needy cavity between Mistress’s legs yesterday morning when I left for work, and she was counting down the minutes until her 26 hour orgasm fast ended with that much anticipated conference with our Western Correspondent.

And I have to complement her on how kind and indulgent she was to me yesterday morning.

Mistress had tossed and turned a bit through the night. She went to sleep a tad earlier than normal. Was it simply to hasten the completion of her sentence of an orgasm free day?

In any event, Mistress was abnormally restless. I was tempted to put her out of her agony with a surprise attack, but she had taken this so far, it would have been wrong, so terribly wrong, to prevent her from suffering through the full consequence of her Master’s command.

But I could think of new reason not to tend, even stoke her fire a bit before heading off to work.

When I came upstairs to let Mistress review yesterday’s memo to M, she was resting in bed, her favorite kitty lying across her chest.

And as she read and giggled at my work product, it was only natural for me to gently stroke the petals of her naughty and delicious parts with my eager tongue. Her little responsive undulations were rewarding, but I could tell the fire was beginning to spread to a potentially dangerous degree. She had come so far, why spoil things now? So I eased back, using only the slightest little pressure on her swollen clit.

As she put the laptop aside, I was expecting we would turn to the papers, and then I would shower, before putting on my cage for the day.

But she had other ideas, greedily reaching for my cock.

“Maybe I should let you come in my mouth, Slave.”

I simply lay back, and enjoyed her attention, though I knew not where this was heading. Was it a tease, payback for all the taunting I had ladled on over the last day?

Or was Slave actually going to be allowed to come.

And here is a secret I’ve not shared on this page: Slave has never come in Mistress’s mouth. For whatever reason, I don’t seem to be programmed that way. Who knows the explanation? Is it because I seem focused on assuring her orgasm first? Is there something about my discomfort with “wasting” my seed that way? Is it some strange, deep psychological inhibition that I have yet to overcome?

Or, by now, is it simply an old dog / new trick issue?

Regardless, Mistress (obviously) knows and seems intrigued by this phenomenon. (She’s even mentioned that M does not seem to have any problem with this issue, something I suspect that both of them would happily explore once given the
opportunity).

Anyone who wants to suggest a solution or explanation to this curious phenomenon for this otherwise concupiscent couple, feel free to comment.

But it had been a day without coming for me too, and Mistress ministrations with her tongue and lips soon had her Slave on fire.

“Slave, I’m going to turn the other cheek here, despite all your teasing, and let you come this morning.”

By now she had shifted to stroking my cock with her fingers, while her other hand was toying with my balls.



Yow. I was close, my hips thrusting up to meet her.

“You’re very kind, Mistress.”

“I am, aren’t I Slave.”

But as she stroked, and we kissed, my leg found it’s way between Mistress thighs.

Soon, in our passion, Mistress was humping against my thigh, her breathe coming in the sorts of little gasps that are a little early warning signal when she is getting close too.

I was monitoring all this, while also trying to focus on my own urgent need. Muy urgent.

But at the last minute, Mistress pulled away, slidng her juicy and fragrant parts back to avoid that physical contact.

“Almost got you there, Mistress.”

“You did….”

I was impressed with her discipline. She really had taken M’s orders to heart.

By now her hand was getting a little tired.

“Why don’t you play with yourself while I watch Slave. You can come, but you need to ask for permission.”

So I took over, pumping away, as Mistress used her fingertips to lightly tease my balls.

But by now the friction was getting a little painful….I was in that no man’s land, tooo tender to come….to frustrated to stop.

I suppose I needed some of that overpriced lubricant that M seems to favor.

Of course, Mistress was amused.

“Are we getting frustrated Slave?”

She was laughing at my desperation. And I suppose I deserved it, what wth all my teasing.

Plus it was getting close to the time for me to hit the shower and her to take her pre-date bike ride. My window of opportunity was closing.

“Tell you what…. I will let you fuck me, but don’t try to make me come, Slave.”

Now there was an intriguing command. But I was more than up to the challenge of threading that needle.

“I will do my best, Mistress.”

I thought I had died and gone to heaven as I slid my rigid but tender cock into that sopping but tight little cavern at the juncture of Mistress’s firm thighs.

But as I proceeded to exploit my unexpected privilege, I was reverse engineering all of the strategies I usually deploy to help her keep that “no coming” pledge.

No pushing all the way in.

No side to side pressure against her by now fully engorged clit.

Slow and gentle, not hard and fast.

My weight on my elbows, so as not to physically engulf her.

I was trying to be the poster boy for a bad fuck.

I could tell Mistress was doing her part too, taking shallow little breathes, taking me in, but not pushing back. She was a model of self control, walking that narrow tight rope over the valley of cum. Without a net.

And somehow all of this was an incredible turn on.

Within moments I was begging her for permission to come.

And, she was allowing it.

And I was exploding into her with dizzying wave after wave.

Man, I needed that.










But I did not linger. I had taxed Mistress’s discipline as long and hard as seemed fair to her.

Soon I was showered and suited up for work, my cock cage firmly locked on. I certainly was grateful that I had not been sent to work caged but frustrated.

Mistress was still nakers, getting out her riding cloths.

AS I embraced her before heading for the door, I could not help dipping my fingers between her legs for one last teasing caress.

“God, are you wet Mistress….”

“And what did you expect, Slave?”

Fortunately, within 90 minutes Mistress would have a phone with M on the line in one hand, and her Hitachi in the other.

I knew her discipline and mercy would be rewarded.