Mistress Exploits Her Slave's Fetish

Mistress has been mercilessly exploiting my craven reaction to those black tights with the strategic opening since she acquired them for her get up for our Much and Dungeon trip last weekend.

When she sees a little opening (no pun intended) that will further enthrall her Slave she goes for it, sort of like a WWF wrestler “heel” exploiting the bad knee of his opponent in the ring . And I am so easily drawn in, even though I know exactly what she is up to. What else to expect from the stupid, if greedy, Slave that I have become to her.

So yesterday, before our planned lunch together, Mistress popped into my office. Looking ravishing in her black boots, black dress, and black tights. Nothing unusual there. But I was soon to discover exactly which tights she was wearing.

I pulled her favorite chair up against the door, draped it with the maroon blanket well marinated with her fragrant juices, and she sat, pulling up her skirt.

“I guess we can do this with my boots on today, Slave.”

Sure enough her pink, full lips, already glistening, were there on full lascivious display, peeking through that clever opening, all ready for my worship.

Before I fell to my knees, I knew we had a moment to share with our Western Correspondent. He’s usually in need of inspiration. I positioned Mistress, legs spread, skirt hiked up, her naughty parts peeking out between those well tighted legs.

Snap.

Then I texted it to M.

“Mistress in her tricked out tights.”

That’s when I got to work.

“Yum, Mistress.”

“Glad you appreciate it, Slave.”

Oh, believe me, I do.



And when we were done, and Mistress was off to her office, and then to a dinner meeting afterwards, I was left to contemplate her waltzing about downtown, or dining with some male colleagues and clients, with her parts all shiny and damp, peeking out at the apex of those athletic thighs.

Gulp.

I took one of the teens to the movies after dinner, as Mistress did her dinner meeting. We both arrived home around the same time, at about 9:30. I was more than ready to redeem my credit for our earlier worship in bed with her.

As we shed our cloths, Mistress had a generous offer:

“Would you like me to sleep in the tights, Slave?”

“Sure…. If it’s not too uncomfortable, Mistress.”

“They’re very comfortable, Slave…. And I know what they do to you.”

“True, Mistress….”

We lay in bed a bit, catching up on emails. Mistress read Aisha’s entry about our evening at the Dungeon. We reminisced a bit about the remarkable things we had seen and heard.

That seemed to get us both in that mood, and I found myself grazing under the sheets, between Mistress’s thighs, my senses drowning in the taste of her arousal.

Unlike my daytime, work-a-day worship, we had no deadlines or fears of interruption, so I took my time working her over with lips and tongue: probing, poking, suctioning her tender clit between my lips, let her build to a shivering quaking series of climaxes as a finger sought out her tender little spots inside.

I get in my own little Sub zone in these moments, not unlike what Aisha describes as she let D and his young acolyte wind her into a cocoon of soft ropes on Saturday evening.

When she was satisfied, Mistress pulled me up to her, feeling her way down to my cock, gripping it firmly in those tender fingers

“Ohhh…. You’re so hard, Slave….. would you like to fuck me now?”

“Of course, Mistress….”

I slid onto her, thrilled by the friction of that opaque black fabric against my thighs, belly, and balls. She used her fingers to help me get past the opening and sink deeply into her. Then, buried inside, I did what a good slave is supposed to do at these moments: fuck her silly.

Fortunately, after a good bit of mutual silliness, Mistress gave me permission to come the very first time I asked.