Horniness is the Mother of Invention

We were tucked away in this old Victorian “rooming house” at the Lake Michigan Beach. Leaves almost gone from the trees.

Chilly wind blowing off the lake.

Winter coming on.

Our friends from out west were off with their team on the flight home.

So the apartment we had rented with them in mind was now all ours. And as I worked on yesterday morning’s blog, I reconnoitered the furnishings and fixtures to see what I could improvise for a suitable switch opportunity when my Mistress woke from her beauty rest.

As you can see, I settled on a the little 4 person dining room table tucked against the wall, repositioning it closer to a plug so that the mighty Hitachi, still tucked into Mistress’s bag from her naughty phone sex date in River City with M, could be readily deployed.

When Mistress finally awake around 8:45 am, I was ready to pounce. She read the blog and your comments.

(“My, Aisha and Sin beat me to the blog this morning Slave”)

Then I pounced. Black rope was ready to bind her wrists in front.

“Not so tight Slave….do you think I’m really going to try to escape?”

“It’s always possible, Mistress.”

Then I pulled her up and out of bed.

“What….. where are we going.”

“There is a nice balcony out front, Mistress. Just think what the cool wind would do to your nipples….”

“You wouldn’t ….”

Well, I would actually …. But not this morning.

I pulled her into the little living room, over the table, onto which I had positioned a thick cushion. Fixed her hands to the front legs. Then roped her thighs to the rear legs in that nice and available position illustrated above.

There was then a photo opportunity. One shot was on my little cell phone. A Text message to our Western Correspondent.

“Look what you are missing, M.”

Was that cruel? Maybe. But Mistress seemed very supportive of the idea.

“That will be a nice wake up for him, Slave.”

Photos taken to record the moment, I turned my attention to Mistress.

My probing fingers demonstrated how wanton she really is. All that Molly juice. All those little wiggles.

“Wet already, Mistress…..and I haven’t even started.”

I stated with my broad western belt.

“Owww…. That hurts Slave.”

“are you asking me to stop?”

“Ummmm ….. no.”

Of course not. My little slut for the day liked it. It got her ass all squirmy, witching back and forth as she made her pathetically unsuccessful efforts to avoid each slap from the belt.

once she turned a nice rosy glow, it was time for her to feed a bit on my cock. Which, once nicely firmed up, poked and probed at her…. The angle and height of the table did not really permit a good solid fucking from behind, but the teasing was nice for both if us. Well at least it was for me.

Then there was some hand spanking. Some more teasing with probing fingers.

Mistress was moaning a bit now, well Into her role as my Slave for the day.

That’s when I reached for the Hitachi, tucked under a nearby couch.

Mistress started when she hurt the low hum as I turned it on.

“Ohhh…. You found it Slave….”

“of course, Mistress…. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

As I slid it between her legs, pressing it home, Mistress was almost immediately begging ….

“DO you mind if I come now, Slave….. I really need to …..”

“I think what you need is to beg…..”

She was writhing now, tugging against the ropes that bound her thighs apart, and to the legs of the table.

“Oh…. God….. please Slave… please.”

I slid the device down her thigh a bit, damping her urgency. At least so I thought.

“Ohhh…. So mean Slave…. I need it…. Put it back…. Please.”

I am a pushover, as you all have come to know.

So I buckled to Mistress’s pleas. The power tool was quickly back where Mistress wanted it – pressed home against her twitching, soaking folds.

“Oh, yes…. Slave….. now please may I come..”

“Yes, Mistress…. You may.”

It took no longer than 5 seconds before Mistress was straining all the harder against the ropes, squeezing her thighs in a death grip around the business end of the Hitachi, crying out her passion, hips flaying against the table.

I could have relented then, knowing she had her wanton way, but I continued to press it home until she rode the cunning vibrations through another mighty cum.

As she collapsed against the table, she was making another plea….

“Turn it off now please Slave…. So sensitive….”

And of course I did.

Her legs were unbound then. But not her hands. I wanted to control her still, leading her by the black rope into our little bedroom. Spreading her on the bed, on her tummy.

Then I took my reward from behind, sliding hard and deep into her, burying my face in her long, fragrant hair.

But now I’m hearing Mistress’s footsteps upstairs. And I am thinking that this story may have to resume tomorrow…. I have some other plans.