Mistress was spared having another “take daughter to work day” yesterday, which was also a break for me: no cage, and a chance to ride to and from work with her.
She even stopped by for lunch. But apparently I was not quick enough to take the hint.
When she arrived at my office, I was on a rant about something, can’t recall what now, and we talked on the subject, distracting me from what should have been the primary task at hand. As I reached for my jacket, ready to leave for lunch, I realized that something important had been neglected.
“Oh… would you like me to worship, Mistress….”
“I was wondering when you might ask, Slave….I’ve been pacing here waiting for you, a little on edge….”
Interesting. Maybe Mistress now gets a little pavlovian response when she enters my office, her cunt anticipating what should be coming up next. My distraction had been a subliminal source of frustration for her.
I quickly acted to correct my error, shutting the door, sliding the chair into place and taking the proper position – on my knees – to lavish her with the soothing attentions of my tongue and lips.
A little work on my part took the “edge” off, and we were soon headed to lunch on our public square on what was a mild if blustery day, a little window of opportunity between thunderstorms.
At home after work, Mistress was worshipped again before we headed for a bike ride. Then Mistress stopped by her Mother’s house (just up the street) for a walk with her, as I hunkered down at home to fix a little sandwich and watch the President’s speech.
Mistress was back at about 8:30 or so, and we lingered downstairs in front of the TV, until I could take no more of the grousing from left and right about his plans to back our troops out of Afghanistan.
Not fast enough. Too fast. Accelerated timetable needed. No timetable. Argh. The Whipsawing was impressive. Maybe Rachel should run for President and solve all this for us, right? I wanted to scream, but then Howard Dean was already doing it for me.
We headed upstairs to the “Executive Suite”, hunkered down in bed, both with our lap tops out , Mistress responding to some emails – including a quite if exasperated one from Aisha – let’s hope she survived that tornado warning. We were teetering on the edge of “calling it a night” or “night cap” sex.
I won’t go into the details of what tipped us in the direction that makes my continued writing worthwhile here. Suffice it to say, the feeling was mutual.
“Slave… I know it’s a little late…. Go put in your device (the aneros)… you may need a little extra for after hours activity….”
True, that little sucker can be like a “booster” rocket, particularly when Slave is tuckered out. And being told what to do in that commanding tone adds a bit to the erotic stew.
As I slid back into bed, Mistress’s soft fingers made a beeline for my already thickening cock. We snuggled close, my hand diving between her legs, sliding through those moist clean shaven folds.
I was already getting close as her hand worked me with a slow, sensuous fervor.
“Would you like me to lick, Mistress?”
“Not now, Slave…. this is nice, don’t you think….”
The question soon became whether her fingers or mine would win the race of driving the other one over the edge first.
I was determined not to blink, or pull away…. And on this occasion, it was my fingers that prevailed, as Mistress bucked and moaned through a nice little starter cum.
“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave?”
“Uhhh, yeah… I thought you’d never ask, Mistress…”