Flooding the Zone

It’s a football term: when an offensive team overloads one side of the field with a slew of receivers, making it too hard for the defensive team to cover all of them at once.

That was the strategy I had selected for switch day this week. After reading about two many of you out there on extended orgasm denial at the arbitrary command of your BBD’s I figured I would be amusing to see what happens when Mistress is required to absorb too many orgasms.

Actually, I was curious to see if that was possible: if she would ever really cry “No mas”, and throw in the towel. Or would she simply lay back, relax and enjoy.

But when I woke with this plan confirmed on my scheming little brain, I found this little note from our Western Correspondent jammed under our electronic transom:




“I vote for more tickling and teasing .. for a LONG time!

tied spread eagled

but no cumming!

would do her good to wait!

If [our two NFL teams] win then she can cum! lol

We will turn her into a football fan yet

lol... make it happen on orders from the WC

as always your humble WC.”



Well it was tempting to simply follow orders, and drive Mistress crazy with denial. But I figured my plan was a good one, and this strategem could wait for the next episode of “Switch Day”. Sorry Big Fella’. Orders acknowledged, but deferred just a bit. Now Mistress knows what she has to look forward to next weekend already.

When Mistress let me know she was awake yesterday morning, I brought up the papers, reached for the Hitachi and explained to Mistress her sad fate for the day.

“You mean we aren’t going to read the paper first, Slave….”

“Sorry, Mistress don’t want to fall behind schedule. I am shooting for at least one orgasm an hour today…. And I have those errands to run at 11, so there will have to be some hours with a few more.

Mistress rolled over in a bit of a pout. But it was simple to slide the Hitachi between her firm, muscular butt cheeks and make contact where I knew it would just be a matter of time before…..

“Oh… and you need to beg to come each time, Mistress….”

That sounds easier said than done.

That first time she begged nicely….


“Please may I come, Slave….”

“You may, Mistress.”

But as I fucked her afterwards, she suddenly was coming again….without permission.

“Did you forget something, Mistress?”

“Oops…. It’s hard to be programmed so quickly, Slave.”

But the next time, as I pumped into her while using my finger to strum her needy little clit, she remembered her place.

“May I come again, Slave….”

“Of course you may…. You good little slut.”

So it began. 3 or 4 that first session.

Read the papers for a while.

Orgasm.

More reading.

Orgasm.

Get dressed for bike ride. But before we “saddle Up”, Mistress was bent over the bed and the Hitachi was applied to her.

“Nice begging, Mistress.”

And of course, each time the musky scent of Mistress’s sopping folds filled the room.

After the bike ride I had to quickly shower before heading off to an appointment downtown and to visit my cranky Mother.

And being a Slave at heart, I was persuaded to put on my cock cage. On switch day even.

But before I left, there was another quick but potent orgasm for Mistress, with her riding shorts hiked down just far enough to accommodate her favorite power tool.

When I came home at around 2 pm, Mistress was working with Surly teen No. 1 on college applications. I did not want to interrupt, but then I had fallen behind schedule.

“Could you come upstairs briefly, dear….”

Mistress had on a short black cotton dress. I suggested it might be easier for the both of us if she simply loose her panties for the rest of the day. She agreed, and after they were shed, Mistress was bent over the bed again for another one.

By now she was coming in less than a minute with the use of that efficient tool.

AS she finished up with our petulant daughter, who of course knows much more about getting into college than her two parents who actually have gone to college, Slave raked some leaves. Then I joined Mistress on our deck to peruse the Times.

But before Mistress was allowed to nap, there was a brief march up to our room for another session with the Hitachi. By now the little white ball oozed her scent before it was even switched on.

After we both napped in the sun, we decided to adjourn to our bedroom. And once Mistress had another Hitachi induced come, I elected to fuck her again.

Despite her training, she forgot to beg yet again. A spanking was promised, and delivered.

By now, my count was at around 15.

Mistress made her award winning chili for dinner. She suggested a little post-sinner stroll. So we headed off into a beautiful fall evening, sun just setting, swirling colorful leaves underfoot.

I suppose Mistress had paid her dues through the day, but I had yet to hear “No Mas.” So Slave was looking for a setting that could put a punctuation point on our day.

Unfortunately, it seemed there was still a bit too much light to press her up against a neighbor’s tree and force my fingers up between her squirmy thighs.

But then….

In our little business district there is a community arts center, and outside there was a vividly painted piano, with it’s own bench.

Part of a inter-active music display all around town.

Ah-hah.

“Let’s sit on the bench and tickle the ivories, Mistress.”

Since Mistress knows I am no pianist, I think the light bulb went off quickly.

“You, wouldn’t….”

So as the neighbors strolled by across the street, and the police squad car drifted past, Slave and Mistress sat side by side on the bench. My right hand tapped the keys as my left strummed between Mistress’s tender but damp folds.

Soon she was shuddering and quaking for me, stifling that little moan of release.

“Enough, Slave…..”

My work here was done. At least until next Sunday.