Here at the World HQ, Slave woke with those red marks on my ass all faded. Mistress and our remaining sullen teen (the other one was still up North with the boyfriend and his family), had plans to take me out to brunch at a local restaurant.
But Mistress had a little “payback” in store.
After we read the morning paper for a while, and she perused our blog with my tongue and lips nipping at her delicious folds, it was time to get down to business.
The red cuffs went on those slim and sexy wrists. Don’t you like the way the cuffs match her scarlet nail polish?
And once her arms were secured overhead on our bed, her lush body all exposed and nakers, I tied her ankles off with those long soft strips that are the remains of a cotton beach towel. Soft but secure.
Of course, with her lashed down, spread eagle style on our bed, I wouldn’t be able to match those red marks she had left on my bottom, as Sin and Donna speculated I might.
But there were other tools and torments available.
After some teasing, and kissing, and probing between her legs with my hungry “work-a-day” cock, I reached into the drawer next to the bed….
“Oh…. Not those clothespins, Slave….”
“Why not, Mistress… you gave me a good thwacking yesterday…”
“But you deserved it…”
“True, Mistress…. But still, you wouldn’t want me to go too easy on you….”
“But they hurt so much….”
“Somehow you managed over in Europe, masturbating away with them on, when you lost the coin toss with M….”
(She still owes us a narrative on that, doesn’t she, audience?)
“Yes…. But…. I could adjust that… they were looser….”
So somehow, when she put them on herself, it seemed more “manageable” than when she is helpless, and knows they come off only when I decide. Interesting. Any thoughts on that Sub-sisters?
In any event, I really hadn’t planned on the clothespins.
No, I was reaching for those black “nipple vices”, which can be adjusted as you play to tighten or loosen.
She was still not “thrilled”. At least as far as I could tell as I primed her little red buds with my lips and teeth, until they were plump and firm, ready for me to literally “turn the screws” on them.
Don’t they look charming?
Mistress whined a bit, but they didn’t seem too painful.
And of course by now I was distracting her with her favorite toy: the Hitachi magic wand, which I pulled from under our bed, and slid between those outstretched legs.
Her inner thighs and belly got a little attention, but soon enough the churning bulb of the power tool was pressed firmly against those lovely clean shaven parts, and mistress hips were rising up to meet it.
I kissed her a bit, but things quickly got out of control. Mistress’s hips were bucking, and that tell tale convulsion and moan told me that a primary rule of switch day had been violated.
“Uhhh…. Did you forget something, Mistress?”
“Ooops…. Sorry, Slave…. I forgot to ask permission….”
I contemplated the consequences…. instinctively tightening the screws on those little breast pincers as she winced and moaned a bit, the Hitachi still gently resting at the juncture of her thighs.
“Well, Mistress, I was going to take these off when you came, but since you violated our protocol, we will have to start all over again….”
I’d make a really tough “master” wouldn’t I?
I went back to work with the power tool. Mistress went back to work, squirming and moaning and acting all helplessly wanton.
Soon she was asking for permission…. And with only a little theatrical hesitation, I rolled over and said what she wanted to ehar.
“Yes, Mistress…. You may come….”
And she did, writhing, moaning, thrashing about as best as her restraints would accommodate.
And damned if I didn’t keep that tool in the “on” position after that, forcing yet another cum from her, until little beads of perspiration were popping up on her lovely forehead, and she was now begging me -
“Oh, God… enough…Slave,,, please fuck me now.”
“If you insist, Mistress.”
As you can see…. I am quite the pushover, particularly on Father’s Day.
Hope all you Fathers out there had a great one too!