HNT/ The Case of the Busy Body Flight Attendant.

Mick and Molly have survived the trip home, and a day back in the fetid air of this Midwestern River Valley. As I type this, Mistress is upstairs, enjoying a “date” with her Master. In anticipation, she required me to unpack the Hitachi and make sure it was plugged in next to the bed, ready in case she was required to put it to use.

And while I look forward to being called on to provide the hard cock she likes after her sessions of smutty talk and forced orgasms, I might as well fill you in on the events of our trip home to pass the time.

Not long after we left our mountain hideaway, Mistress asked if I would mind her calling M to get her morning fix of his compelling voice. There seems to be a mutual addiction between them.

Of course, she had no need to ask me. And I could only say “no problem, Mistress.”

As they talked, Mistress quickly shifting into that flirty, deferential voice that characterizes their chit-chat, I rested my right hand on her thigh. She was wearing one of those short tie-dye dresses she fancies. And my roving fingers discovered she was wearing the black lacy panties that I find particularly fetching.

“M, you should know he’s fondling my thigh….he can’t keep his hands off of me when we talk…..”

“ I recall doing this on that late night drive up here, Mistress….when you were NOT talking.”

(Yes, I probably should only speak when spoken too, but sometimes it’s hard to stifle my wise ass comments.)

“M says you are just asserting your possession of me, Slave.”

Could be.

In any event, after Mistress lost her call to M along a mountain road  particularly stingy with AT&T service, my hand became a bit more persistent. And soon Mistress was squeezing my hand between her thighs, bucking against my pushy little fingers, as I squeezed an orgasm from her needy, clean shaven cunt. No doubt her talk with M had helped to prime the pump.

As we got closer to the airport, and Mistress’s I-phone came back to life, and she giggled over a  a text message from M.

“He says that I have to refrain from any orgasms on this trip, Slave.  He wants to think of my cunt squirming on that airport seat in frustration.”

Well, that horse was already out of the barn.  But it still might be a long day for Mistress if she obeyed his requirements.

“How does that make you, feel, Mistress?”

“Well ….. I can see that it might be frustrating, Slave.   Knowing that I’m not allowed might want me want it even more.”

“I suspect that’s exactly what he’s thinking.”

But before we boarded the first of our connecting flights, M showed the arbitrariness of a skilled Master.

“Now he says he wants me to come in the plane, Slave.”

Why. Mistress?”

“He says I have been a good slave and should be rewarded.”

“And are you doing it in the restroom, or otherwise?”

“He wants you to help, Slave.”

“I will take that as an order, Mistress.”

And so I did., pleased to be his minion in getting my Mistress/ his Slave off.  It was on the last leg of our trip, on one of those tiny-toons planes that passes for an airliner these days. Tight seating, narrow aisles, but at least we had two seats together with no one too close at hand to work around.

The lights were down, and with our little tray-tables blocking the sightlines across the aisle, it was easy for me to worm my fingers back between  Mistress’s legs.

To add a little fuel to the fire, I asked Mistress to consider what it would be like to visit M’s mountain cabin for a few days, and how he might systematically train her to come at his command. Soon Mistress was humping my hand, stifling her moans into my shoulder.

I was happy to help her fulfill her Master’s requrements.

But then later, as we began our approach to River City, Slave and Mistress got a little too greedy. 

“Spread your legs again, Mistress,”, I said, leaning across her, acting as if I was looking out the little port hole window at the bright lights of our “Big” City.

She was accommodating, and my fingers pressed inside the lace of her panties, finding her oh so wet and squirmy.

But then I heard Mistress whispering to me.

“What’s she looking at?”

I turned a bit to peer over my right shoulder, and there was this grandmotherly flight attendant eyeballing us with a judgmental eye.

I  straightened up , chastened, pulling my hand away.  But I was determined to be undeterred. For the next 5 minutes or so, as the plane drew ever closer to the runway,we played a bit of cat and mouse with  this busybody  crone (really no older than me I suspect). She  kept tromping up and down the aisles, causing me to pull away from Mistress each time she passed by, eyeing us with a certain nosey curiosity. 

Finally, she spoke –

“do you have your seat belt on?”

Hmmmm……well, I guess that had slipped my mind.

So I buckled up. And she finally parked herself for landing. And Mistress got to come one more time just as we plopped down onto the runway.

Now she could report to M she had fulfilled his instructions.

Not long after I finished this, Mistress came down stairs,, that look of ditzy bliss on her face. Smiling. Asking me if I had been lonely.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Two, Slave…. But now I need my cock.”

She did not have to ask twice.

HNT/ The Case of the Busy Body Flight Attendant.

Mick and Molly have survived the trip home, and a day back in the fetid air of this Midwestern River Valley. As I type this, Mistress is upstairs, enjoying a “date” with her Master. In anticipation, she required me to unpack the Hitachi and make sure it was plugged in next to the bed, ready in case she was required to put it to use.

And while I look forward to being called on to provide the hard cock she likes after her sessions of smutty talk and forced orgasms, I might as well fill you in on the events of our trip home to pass the time.

Not long after we left our mountain hideaway, Mistress asked if I would mind her calling M to get her morning fix of his compelling voice. There seems to be a mutual addiction between them.

Of course, she had no need to ask me. And I could only say “no problem, Mistress.”

As they talked, Mistress quickly shifting into that flirty, deferential voice that characterizes their chit-chat, I rested my right hand on her thigh. She was wearing one of those short tie-dye dresses she fancies. And my roving fingers discovered she was wearing the black lacy panties that I find particularly fetching.

“M, you should know he’s fondling my thigh….he can’t keep his hands off of me when we talk…..”

“ I recall doing this on that late night drive up here, Mistress….when you were NOT talking.”

(Yes, I probably should only speak when spoken too, but sometimes it’s hard to stifle my wise ass comments.)

“M says you are just asserting your possession of me, Slave.”

Could be.

In any event, after Mistress lost her call to M along a mountain road  particularly stingy with AT&T service, my hand became a bit more persistent. And soon Mistress was squeezing my hand between her thighs, bucking against my pushy little fingers, as I squeezed an orgasm from her needy, clean shaven cunt. No doubt her talk with M had helped to prime the pump.

As we got closer to the airport, and Mistress’s I-phone came back to life, and she giggled over a  a text message from M.

“He says that I have to refrain from any orgasms on this trip, Slave.  He wants to think of my cunt squirming on that airport seat in frustration.”

Well, that horse was already out of the barn.  But it still might be a long day for Mistress if she obeyed his requirements.

“How does that make you, feel, Mistress?”

“Well ….. I can see that it might be frustrating, Slave.   Knowing that I’m not allowed might want me want it even more.”

“I suspect that’s exactly what he’s thinking.”

But before we boarded the first of our connecting flights, M showed the arbitrariness of a skilled Master.

“Now he says he wants me to come in the plane, Slave.”

Why. Mistress?”

“He says I have been a good slave and should be rewarded.”

“And are you doing it in the restroom, or otherwise?”

“He wants you to help, Slave.”

“I will take that as an order, Mistress.”

And so I did., pleased to be his minion in getting my Mistress/ his Slave off.  It was on the last leg of our trip, on one of those tiny-toons planes that passes for an airliner these days. Tight seating, narrow aisles, but at least we had two seats together with no one too close at hand to work around.

The lights were down, and with our little tray-tables blocking the sightlines across the aisle, it was easy for me to worm my fingers back between  Mistress’s legs.

To add a little fuel to the fire, I asked Mistress to consider what it would be like to visit M’s mountain cabin for a few days, and how he might systematically train her to come at his command. Soon Mistress was humping my hand, stifling her moans into my shoulder.

I was happy to help her fulfill her Master’s requrements.

But then later, as we began our approach to River City, Slave and Mistress got a little too greedy. 

“Spread your legs again, Mistress,”, I said, leaning across her, acting as if I was looking out the little port hole window at the bright lights of our “Big” City.

She was accommodating, and my fingers pressed inside the lace of her panties, finding her oh so wet and squirmy.

But then I heard Mistress whispering to me.

“What’s she looking at?”

I turned a bit to peer over my right shoulder, and there was this grandmotherly flight attendant eyeballing us with a judgmental eye.

I  straightened up , chastened, pulling my hand away.  But I was determined to be undeterred. For the next 5 minutes or so, as the plane drew ever closer to the runway,we played a bit of cat and mouse with  this busybody  crone (really no older than me I suspect). She  kept tromping up and down the aisles, causing me to pull away from Mistress each time she passed by, eyeing us with a certain nosey curiosity. 

Finally, she spoke –

“do you have your seat belt on?”

Hmmmm……well, I guess that had slipped my mind.

So I buckled up. And she finally parked herself for landing. And Mistress got to come one more time just as we plopped down onto the runway.

Now she could report to M she had fulfilled his instructions.

Not long after I finished this, Mistress came down stairs,, that look of ditzy bliss on her face. Smiling. Asking me if I had been lonely.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Two, Slave…. But now I need my cock.”

She did not have to ask twice.

HNT/ The Case of the Busy Body Flight Attendant.

Mick and Molly have survived the trip home, and a day back in the fetid air of this Midwestern River Valley. As I type this, Mistress is upstairs, enjoying a “date” with her Master. In anticipation, she required me to unpack the Hitachi and make sure it was plugged in next to the bed, ready in case she was required to put it to use.

And while I look forward to being called on to provide the hard cock she likes after her sessions of smutty talk and forced orgasms, I might as well fill you in on the events of our trip home to pass the time.

Not long after we left our mountain hideaway, Mistress asked if I would mind her calling M to get her morning fix of his compelling voice. There seems to be a mutual addiction between them.

Of course, she had no need to ask me. And I could only say “no problem, Mistress.”

As they talked, Mistress quickly shifting into that flirty, deferential voice that characterizes their chit-chat, I rested my right hand on her thigh. She was wearing one of those short tie-dye dresses she fancies. And my roving fingers discovered she was wearing the black lacy panties that I find particularly fetching.

“M, you should know he’s fondling my thigh….he can’t keep his hands off of me when we talk…..”

“ I recall doing this on that late night drive up here, Mistress….when you were NOT talking.”

(Yes, I probably should only speak when spoken too, but sometimes it’s hard to stifle my wise ass comments.)

“M says you are just asserting your possession of me, Slave.”

Could be.

In any event, after Mistress lost her call to M along a mountain road  particularly stingy with AT&T service, my hand became a bit more persistent. And soon Mistress was squeezing my hand between her thighs, bucking against my pushy little fingers, as I squeezed an orgasm from her needy, clean shaven cunt. No doubt her talk with M had helped to prime the pump.

As we got closer to the airport, and Mistress’s I-phone came back to life, and she giggled over a  a text message from M.

“He says that I have to refrain from any orgasms on this trip, Slave.  He wants to think of my cunt squirming on that airport seat in frustration.”

Well, that horse was already out of the barn.  But it still might be a long day for Mistress if she obeyed his requirements.

“How does that make you, feel, Mistress?”

“Well ….. I can see that it might be frustrating, Slave.   Knowing that I’m not allowed might want me want it even more.”

“I suspect that’s exactly what he’s thinking.”

But before we boarded the first of our connecting flights, M showed the arbitrariness of a skilled Master.

“Now he says he wants me to come in the plane, Slave.”

Why. Mistress?”

“He says I have been a good slave and should be rewarded.”

“And are you doing it in the restroom, or otherwise?”

“He wants you to help, Slave.”

“I will take that as an order, Mistress.”

And so I did., pleased to be his minion in getting my Mistress/ his Slave off.  It was on the last leg of our trip, on one of those tiny-toons planes that passes for an airliner these days. Tight seating, narrow aisles, but at least we had two seats together with no one too close at hand to work around.

The lights were down, and with our little tray-tables blocking the sightlines across the aisle, it was easy for me to worm my fingers back between  Mistress’s legs.

To add a little fuel to the fire, I asked Mistress to consider what it would be like to visit M’s mountain cabin for a few days, and how he might systematically train her to come at his command. Soon Mistress was humping my hand, stifling her moans into my shoulder.

I was happy to help her fulfill her Master’s requrements.

But then later, as we began our approach to River City, Slave and Mistress got a little too greedy. 

“Spread your legs again, Mistress,”, I said, leaning across her, acting as if I was looking out the little port hole window at the bright lights of our “Big” City.

She was accommodating, and my fingers pressed inside the lace of her panties, finding her oh so wet and squirmy.

But then I heard Mistress whispering to me.

“What’s she looking at?”

I turned a bit to peer over my right shoulder, and there was this grandmotherly flight attendant eyeballing us with a judgmental eye.

I  straightened up , chastened, pulling my hand away.  But I was determined to be undeterred. For the next 5 minutes or so, as the plane drew ever closer to the runway,we played a bit of cat and mouse with  this busybody  crone (really no older than me I suspect). She  kept tromping up and down the aisles, causing me to pull away from Mistress each time she passed by, eyeing us with a certain nosey curiosity. 

Finally, she spoke –

“do you have your seat belt on?”

Hmmmm……well, I guess that had slipped my mind.

So I buckled up. And she finally parked herself for landing. And Mistress got to come one more time just as we plopped down onto the runway.

Now she could report to M she had fulfilled his instructions.

Not long after I finished this, Mistress came down stairs,, that look of ditzy bliss on her face. Smiling. Asking me if I had been lonely.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Two, Slave…. But now I need my cock.”

She did not have to ask twice.

HNT/ The Case of the Busy Body Flight Attendant.

Mick and Molly have survived the trip home, and a day back in the fetid air of this Midwestern River Valley. As I type this, Mistress is upstairs, enjoying a “date” with her Master. In anticipation, she required me to unpack the Hitachi and make sure it was plugged in next to the bed, ready in case she was required to put it to use.

And while I look forward to being called on to provide the hard cock she likes after her sessions of smutty talk and forced orgasms, I might as well fill you in on the events of our trip home to pass the time.

Not long after we left our mountain hideaway, Mistress asked if I would mind her calling M to get her morning fix of his compelling voice. There seems to be a mutual addiction between them.

Of course, she had no need to ask me. And I could only say “no problem, Mistress.”

As they talked, Mistress quickly shifting into that flirty, deferential voice that characterizes their chit-chat, I rested my right hand on her thigh. She was wearing one of those short tie-dye dresses she fancies. And my roving fingers discovered she was wearing the black lacy panties that I find particularly fetching.

“M, you should know he’s fondling my thigh….he can’t keep his hands off of me when we talk…..”

“ I recall doing this on that late night drive up here, Mistress….when you were NOT talking.”

(Yes, I probably should only speak when spoken too, but sometimes it’s hard to stifle my wise ass comments.)

“M says you are just asserting your possession of me, Slave.”

Could be.

In any event, after Mistress lost her call to M along a mountain road  particularly stingy with AT&T service, my hand became a bit more persistent. And soon Mistress was squeezing my hand between her thighs, bucking against my pushy little fingers, as I squeezed an orgasm from her needy, clean shaven cunt. No doubt her talk with M had helped to prime the pump.

As we got closer to the airport, and Mistress’s I-phone came back to life, and she giggled over a  a text message from M.

“He says that I have to refrain from any orgasms on this trip, Slave.  He wants to think of my cunt squirming on that airport seat in frustration.”

Well, that horse was already out of the barn.  But it still might be a long day for Mistress if she obeyed his requirements.

“How does that make you, feel, Mistress?”

“Well ….. I can see that it might be frustrating, Slave.   Knowing that I’m not allowed might want me want it even more.”

“I suspect that’s exactly what he’s thinking.”

But before we boarded the first of our connecting flights, M showed the arbitrariness of a skilled Master.

“Now he says he wants me to come in the plane, Slave.”

Why. Mistress?”

“He says I have been a good slave and should be rewarded.”

“And are you doing it in the restroom, or otherwise?”

“He wants you to help, Slave.”

“I will take that as an order, Mistress.”

And so I did., pleased to be his minion in getting my Mistress/ his Slave off.  It was on the last leg of our trip, on one of those tiny-toons planes that passes for an airliner these days. Tight seating, narrow aisles, but at least we had two seats together with no one too close at hand to work around.

The lights were down, and with our little tray-tables blocking the sightlines across the aisle, it was easy for me to worm my fingers back between  Mistress’s legs.

To add a little fuel to the fire, I asked Mistress to consider what it would be like to visit M’s mountain cabin for a few days, and how he might systematically train her to come at his command. Soon Mistress was humping my hand, stifling her moans into my shoulder.

I was happy to help her fulfill her Master’s requrements.

But then later, as we began our approach to River City, Slave and Mistress got a little too greedy. 

“Spread your legs again, Mistress,”, I said, leaning across her, acting as if I was looking out the little port hole window at the bright lights of our “Big” City.

She was accommodating, and my fingers pressed inside the lace of her panties, finding her oh so wet and squirmy.

But then I heard Mistress whispering to me.

“What’s she looking at?”

I turned a bit to peer over my right shoulder, and there was this grandmotherly flight attendant eyeballing us with a judgmental eye.

I  straightened up , chastened, pulling my hand away.  But I was determined to be undeterred. For the next 5 minutes or so, as the plane drew ever closer to the runway,we played a bit of cat and mouse with  this busybody  crone (really no older than me I suspect). She  kept tromping up and down the aisles, causing me to pull away from Mistress each time she passed by, eyeing us with a certain nosey curiosity. 

Finally, she spoke –

“do you have your seat belt on?”

Hmmmm……well, I guess that had slipped my mind.

So I buckled up. And she finally parked herself for landing. And Mistress got to come one more time just as we plopped down onto the runway.

Now she could report to M she had fulfilled his instructions.

Not long after I finished this, Mistress came down stairs,, that look of ditzy bliss on her face. Smiling. Asking me if I had been lonely.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Two, Slave…. But now I need my cock.”

She did not have to ask twice.

Enjoying Mistress's New Look

Mistress’s submission to her new Dom has provided (at least) one very nice fringe benefit for her Slave: that smooth, hairless look that resulted from his instructions to her last week, and her visit to the waxer.

It can be an endless source of amusement to me, and has increased in a way that I thought was impossible my desire to pleasure her, even to the point where she has been forced to tell me “enough” more than once these last few days.

She requires me to wear no underwear when we are in bed, so lounging about yesterday, obsessed by the goings on in Congress, it was natural for me to press against her, my cock nestling between to hairless crack between her cheeks. It seemed I was almost always throbbing, on the edge of erection.

And my fingers seemed to have a life of their own, always wanting to dip between Mistress’s thighs, to remind myself how smooth she is, and to poke a bit between her folds, teasing at her clit, exploring for some tell tales signs of her arousal.

Yesterday evening, I was reprimanded.

“You can feel all you want, but don’t try to arouse me Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.” (sulk).

Well it’s not like I had been shut out over the weekend. On Saturday morning, I was allowed to try out the Magic Wand on her clean shaven parts for the first time.

“How’s that, Mistress?”, I asked as I slid the churning white ball between her legs.

“Ahhhh …. It’s even more sensitive Slave.”

Soon I had her thrusting against it, writhing to a lovely, dramatic orgasm.

I already wrote about the nice ass fucking she gave me Saturday afternoon.

Then there was yesterday morning. We had been out late with some new, seemingly vanilla friends, singing along to bad versions of 80’s rock as we closed a local dive. Drinking a tad more than usual for us. So we were both a little groggy when we woke up.

It was my normal switch day, but it seemed neither of us had the energy for anything too elaborate. But I certainly wanted my chance to play with Mistress’s good parts, and their new look.

As she read my blog entry de jour, I buried my head between her legs, enjoying the ready access that her new look gives me, all moist and pink and succulent. And once she put the computer down, she seemed pleased with my efforts, giving me permission to fuck her once she had been thoroughly serviced.

Soon I was off to visit some family members, a weekend duty.

But as I drove around I entertained myself with thoughts of Mistress and her new look, and how her friend would inspect her at their next engagement. I pictured her standing, legs spread, hands bound behind her, eyes closed, as he took his time sliding fingers over, across and into her. No doubt he would comment on how deliciously wet and available she was. A needy little slut, indeed.

Those thoughts made me want to get home ASAP.



Later that afternoon, after my family duties were accomplished, we were back in bed, me reading the Times and Mistress napping. When she woke we were planning a bike ride. But before that I had something else in mind.

“Would it be all right if I tasted you again, Mistress.”

She indulged me. And I recall her hands gripping my hair as I sought to please her, as I pondered her description of her master doing this with her 69 style last week.

When Mistress was satisfied, I slid up next to her and her hand reached for my cock, already hard.

“So you like my new look Slave?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Her fingers were driving me crazy, gripping my balls. Sliding gently along the shaft of my cock.

“Why, Slave?”

It’s hard to articulate all the reasons, Mistress, particularly when you are driving me crazy like that. Can I just fuck you?”

“Aww. Poor Slave. I thought you liked this.”

The fingers kept up their devious work.

“Give me just one reason, and I will consider letting you fuck me.”

“Well…. Because you did it to please him Mistress. Because he required it and you felt a need to comply.”

“Yes, that’s true Slave.”

She released her grip. And then I was allowed my reward.

I really am her Slave. And she knows it.

Enjoying Mistress's New Look

Mistress’s submission to her new Dom has provided (at least) one very nice fringe benefit for her Slave: that smooth, hairless look that resulted from his instructions to her last week, and her visit to the waxer.

It can be an endless source of amusement to me, and has increased in a way that I thought was impossible my desire to pleasure her, even to the point where she has been forced to tell me “enough” more than once these last few days.

She requires me to wear no underwear when we are in bed, so lounging about yesterday, obsessed by the goings on in Congress, it was natural for me to press against her, my cock nestling between to hairless crack between her cheeks. It seemed I was almost always throbbing, on the edge of erection.

And my fingers seemed to have a life of their own, always wanting to dip between Mistress’s thighs, to remind myself how smooth she is, and to poke a bit between her folds, teasing at her clit, exploring for some tell tales signs of her arousal.

Yesterday evening, I was reprimanded.

“You can feel all you want, but don’t try to arouse me Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.” (sulk).

Well it’s not like I had been shut out over the weekend. On Saturday morning, I was allowed to try out the Magic Wand on her clean shaven parts for the first time.

“How’s that, Mistress?”, I asked as I slid the churning white ball between her legs.

“Ahhhh …. It’s even more sensitive Slave.”

Soon I had her thrusting against it, writhing to a lovely, dramatic orgasm.

I already wrote about the nice ass fucking she gave me Saturday afternoon.

Then there was yesterday morning. We had been out late with some new, seemingly vanilla friends, singing along to bad versions of 80’s rock as we closed a local dive. Drinking a tad more than usual for us. So we were both a little groggy when we woke up.

It was my normal switch day, but it seemed neither of us had the energy for anything too elaborate. But I certainly wanted my chance to play with Mistress’s good parts, and their new look.

As she read my blog entry de jour, I buried my head between her legs, enjoying the ready access that her new look gives me, all moist and pink and succulent. And once she put the computer down, she seemed pleased with my efforts, giving me permission to fuck her once she had been thoroughly serviced.

Soon I was off to visit some family members, a weekend duty.

But as I drove around I entertained myself with thoughts of Mistress and her new look, and how her friend would inspect her at their next engagement. I pictured her standing, legs spread, hands bound behind her, eyes closed, as he took his time sliding fingers over, across and into her. No doubt he would comment on how deliciously wet and available she was. A needy little slut, indeed.

Those thoughts made me want to get home ASAP.



Later that afternoon, after my family duties were accomplished, we were back in bed, me reading the Times and Mistress napping. When she woke we were planning a bike ride. But before that I had something else in mind.

“Would it be all right if I tasted you again, Mistress.”

She indulged me. And I recall her hands gripping my hair as I sought to please her, as I pondered her description of her master doing this with her 69 style last week.

When Mistress was satisfied, I slid up next to her and her hand reached for my cock, already hard.

“So you like my new look Slave?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Her fingers were driving me crazy, gripping my balls. Sliding gently along the shaft of my cock.

“Why, Slave?”

It’s hard to articulate all the reasons, Mistress, particularly when you are driving me crazy like that. Can I just fuck you?”

“Aww. Poor Slave. I thought you liked this.”

The fingers kept up their devious work.

“Give me just one reason, and I will consider letting you fuck me.”

“Well…. Because you did it to please him Mistress. Because he required it and you felt a need to comply.”

“Yes, that’s true Slave.”

She released her grip. And then I was allowed my reward.

I really am her Slave. And she knows it.

Enjoying Mistress's New Look

Mistress’s submission to her new Dom has provided (at least) one very nice fringe benefit for her Slave: that smooth, hairless look that resulted from his instructions to her last week, and her visit to the waxer.

It can be an endless source of amusement to me, and has increased in a way that I thought was impossible my desire to pleasure her, even to the point where she has been forced to tell me “enough” more than once these last few days.

She requires me to wear no underwear when we are in bed, so lounging about yesterday, obsessed by the goings on in Congress, it was natural for me to press against her, my cock nestling between to hairless crack between her cheeks. It seemed I was almost always throbbing, on the edge of erection.

And my fingers seemed to have a life of their own, always wanting to dip between Mistress’s thighs, to remind myself how smooth she is, and to poke a bit between her folds, teasing at her clit, exploring for some tell tales signs of her arousal.

Yesterday evening, I was reprimanded.

“You can feel all you want, but don’t try to arouse me Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.” (sulk).

Well it’s not like I had been shut out over the weekend. On Saturday morning, I was allowed to try out the Magic Wand on her clean shaven parts for the first time.

“How’s that, Mistress?”, I asked as I slid the churning white ball between her legs.

“Ahhhh …. It’s even more sensitive Slave.”

Soon I had her thrusting against it, writhing to a lovely, dramatic orgasm.

I already wrote about the nice ass fucking she gave me Saturday afternoon.

Then there was yesterday morning. We had been out late with some new, seemingly vanilla friends, singing along to bad versions of 80’s rock as we closed a local dive. Drinking a tad more than usual for us. So we were both a little groggy when we woke up.

It was my normal switch day, but it seemed neither of us had the energy for anything too elaborate. But I certainly wanted my chance to play with Mistress’s good parts, and their new look.

As she read my blog entry de jour, I buried my head between her legs, enjoying the ready access that her new look gives me, all moist and pink and succulent. And once she put the computer down, she seemed pleased with my efforts, giving me permission to fuck her once she had been thoroughly serviced.

Soon I was off to visit some family members, a weekend duty.

But as I drove around I entertained myself with thoughts of Mistress and her new look, and how her friend would inspect her at their next engagement. I pictured her standing, legs spread, hands bound behind her, eyes closed, as he took his time sliding fingers over, across and into her. No doubt he would comment on how deliciously wet and available she was. A needy little slut, indeed.

Those thoughts made me want to get home ASAP.



Later that afternoon, after my family duties were accomplished, we were back in bed, me reading the Times and Mistress napping. When she woke we were planning a bike ride. But before that I had something else in mind.

“Would it be all right if I tasted you again, Mistress.”

She indulged me. And I recall her hands gripping my hair as I sought to please her, as I pondered her description of her master doing this with her 69 style last week.

When Mistress was satisfied, I slid up next to her and her hand reached for my cock, already hard.

“So you like my new look Slave?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Her fingers were driving me crazy, gripping my balls. Sliding gently along the shaft of my cock.

“Why, Slave?”

It’s hard to articulate all the reasons, Mistress, particularly when you are driving me crazy like that. Can I just fuck you?”

“Aww. Poor Slave. I thought you liked this.”

The fingers kept up their devious work.

“Give me just one reason, and I will consider letting you fuck me.”

“Well…. Because you did it to please him Mistress. Because he required it and you felt a need to comply.”

“Yes, that’s true Slave.”

She released her grip. And then I was allowed my reward.

I really am her Slave. And she knows it.

Enjoying Mistress's New Look

Mistress’s submission to her new Dom has provided (at least) one very nice fringe benefit for her Slave: that smooth, hairless look that resulted from his instructions to her last week, and her visit to the waxer.

It can be an endless source of amusement to me, and has increased in a way that I thought was impossible my desire to pleasure her, even to the point where she has been forced to tell me “enough” more than once these last few days.

She requires me to wear no underwear when we are in bed, so lounging about yesterday, obsessed by the goings on in Congress, it was natural for me to press against her, my cock nestling between to hairless crack between her cheeks. It seemed I was almost always throbbing, on the edge of erection.

And my fingers seemed to have a life of their own, always wanting to dip between Mistress’s thighs, to remind myself how smooth she is, and to poke a bit between her folds, teasing at her clit, exploring for some tell tales signs of her arousal.

Yesterday evening, I was reprimanded.

“You can feel all you want, but don’t try to arouse me Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.” (sulk).

Well it’s not like I had been shut out over the weekend. On Saturday morning, I was allowed to try out the Magic Wand on her clean shaven parts for the first time.

“How’s that, Mistress?”, I asked as I slid the churning white ball between her legs.

“Ahhhh …. It’s even more sensitive Slave.”

Soon I had her thrusting against it, writhing to a lovely, dramatic orgasm.

I already wrote about the nice ass fucking she gave me Saturday afternoon.

Then there was yesterday morning. We had been out late with some new, seemingly vanilla friends, singing along to bad versions of 80’s rock as we closed a local dive. Drinking a tad more than usual for us. So we were both a little groggy when we woke up.

It was my normal switch day, but it seemed neither of us had the energy for anything too elaborate. But I certainly wanted my chance to play with Mistress’s good parts, and their new look.

As she read my blog entry de jour, I buried my head between her legs, enjoying the ready access that her new look gives me, all moist and pink and succulent. And once she put the computer down, she seemed pleased with my efforts, giving me permission to fuck her once she had been thoroughly serviced.

Soon I was off to visit some family members, a weekend duty.

But as I drove around I entertained myself with thoughts of Mistress and her new look, and how her friend would inspect her at their next engagement. I pictured her standing, legs spread, hands bound behind her, eyes closed, as he took his time sliding fingers over, across and into her. No doubt he would comment on how deliciously wet and available she was. A needy little slut, indeed.

Those thoughts made me want to get home ASAP.



Later that afternoon, after my family duties were accomplished, we were back in bed, me reading the Times and Mistress napping. When she woke we were planning a bike ride. But before that I had something else in mind.

“Would it be all right if I tasted you again, Mistress.”

She indulged me. And I recall her hands gripping my hair as I sought to please her, as I pondered her description of her master doing this with her 69 style last week.

When Mistress was satisfied, I slid up next to her and her hand reached for my cock, already hard.

“So you like my new look Slave?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Her fingers were driving me crazy, gripping my balls. Sliding gently along the shaft of my cock.

“Why, Slave?”

It’s hard to articulate all the reasons, Mistress, particularly when you are driving me crazy like that. Can I just fuck you?”

“Aww. Poor Slave. I thought you liked this.”

The fingers kept up their devious work.

“Give me just one reason, and I will consider letting you fuck me.”

“Well…. Because you did it to please him Mistress. Because he required it and you felt a need to comply.”

“Yes, that’s true Slave.”

She released her grip. And then I was allowed my reward.

I really am her Slave. And she knows it.

Clear Cutting

Mick and Molly have enjoyed striking up some conversations with a variety of our readers. You add some perspective and egg us on. So in some ways this blog has become interactive. We hope that we inspire you us as much as you have inspired us.


Our friend M from out West has been particularly enthusiastic of late in sharing some adventures of his own. Here is what he said after Monday’s posting with a picture of Mistress tied to our bed:

“The switch day pictures are always my favorites, because they always feature Molly's beauitful ass. I must still have a lot more of the dom in me than I admit.

B had a long "conversation" with me over her lap this morning about toping from the bottom. She claims I so it all the time and she doesn't approve. She claims I am still very dominant. She used her hairbrush harder than she ever has to drive home this failing on my part. She said "you don't like this spanking at all do you slave." MO MAMM!!! She said good and proceeded to spank longer and harder. I was pleading and begging her to stop promising to never be dominant again.. She totally ignored me and just kept blistering my bare bottom. B doesn't believe in safe words for spanking and I don't have one. As she says, “wouldn't be a real spanking If I could stop it...would it slave??? “

She then had me get her "huge blue cock". I really is very big 8 inches long and 6 inches around. B said a good long hard fucking may be just the ticket to make me more submissive. She fucked me VERY hard and VERY long. After she came as many times as she wanted she made me "service her bottom." She said that was another good submissive act for her slave to do to reinforce his submission. WOW what a morning. She finally allowed her slave to fuck her and get some relief!.

I'm in love! The harder she uses me the more I love her??? Take care M “

But yesterday, Mistress may have taken that inspiration thing a bit too far. As mentioned yesterday, her new Dom had given her some very specific instructions about how he wanted her bush trimmed before their next encounter (which is this evening). His instructions called for a thin racing stripe of hair running from the top of her lips toward her belly button, a little wider at the top than at the bottom.

We had some “fun” (as described in yesterday’s post) complying with his instructions, and I thought we had done a pretty good job. Later yesterday, M wrote back describing how he and his wife/ Domme get Brazilian waxes to deal with these issues:

“Yes, I think I have told you guys I have been shaving and more reciently getting brazialian waxs for several years. B gets waxed once a month,,, not brazialian but pretty short and close. Its FUCKING HOT. I couldn't reccomend it more highly. Not that you guys need any more way to make yourselves hot..”

Well, Mistress had a little extra time on her hands yesterday, so inspired by M and no doubt anxious to impress her Dom, she made an appointment for late yesterday afternoon. She was going for the wax, a first for her. When I passed that on to M he had some suggestions on what to ask for:

“I think [the Dom] will LOVE it! I think you will too. Most important I think Molly will be very pleased. FYI Molly in... "waxing terms" I would recommend the complete Brazilian including the butt crack and just leave a short triangle right over the genitals. Have them take all the hair to each side of the labia, and all of it from around the anus. HOT. you will love it!”

Well I passed these instructions on, and Mistress was off on her quest.

But when I got home, Mistress was a little red faced when I asked to see the results.

As she lowered her panties, what she revealed was, as M promised, very very hot. But there was a problem: all of her hair was now gone. No little racing stripe.

It was her first time, and it seems she had failed to convey all of the details of M’s instructions.

I was anxious to take Mistress’s new look for a test drive. Quickly her panties were off, she was lying across our bed, and I was on my knees for some worship time.

She was soooo smooth. And her clit was soooo available.

“Did it turn you on when they did this Mistress?

“Yes, a little Slave.”

Right. “ A little.”

My tongue teased, sliding across her.

“Why, Mistress.”

“The thought of him … and you, of course, inspecting me, Slave.”

It was nice to be included.

Soon Mistress was coming for me, her hips thrusting against my head, my face wet from her flowing juices. And not a threat of getting a loose pube stuck in my teeth.

Would you be surprised to know that we then jettisoned our plans for a bike ride so that we could more fully explore Mistress’s new look and texture?

But the elephant in the room is this: Will Dom be happy with the new look? Or will there be punishment in store because Mistress failed to follow instructions?

Clear Cutting

Mick and Molly have enjoyed striking up some conversations with a variety of our readers. You add some perspective and egg us on. So in some ways this blog has become interactive. We hope that we inspire you us as much as you have inspired us.


Our friend M from out West has been particularly enthusiastic of late in sharing some adventures of his own. Here is what he said after Monday’s posting with a picture of Mistress tied to our bed:

“The switch day pictures are always my favorites, because they always feature Molly's beauitful ass. I must still have a lot more of the dom in me than I admit.

B had a long "conversation" with me over her lap this morning about toping from the bottom. She claims I so it all the time and she doesn't approve. She claims I am still very dominant. She used her hairbrush harder than she ever has to drive home this failing on my part. She said "you don't like this spanking at all do you slave." MO MAMM!!! She said good and proceeded to spank longer and harder. I was pleading and begging her to stop promising to never be dominant again.. She totally ignored me and just kept blistering my bare bottom. B doesn't believe in safe words for spanking and I don't have one. As she says, “wouldn't be a real spanking If I could stop it...would it slave??? “

She then had me get her "huge blue cock". I really is very big 8 inches long and 6 inches around. B said a good long hard fucking may be just the ticket to make me more submissive. She fucked me VERY hard and VERY long. After she came as many times as she wanted she made me "service her bottom." She said that was another good submissive act for her slave to do to reinforce his submission. WOW what a morning. She finally allowed her slave to fuck her and get some relief!.

I'm in love! The harder she uses me the more I love her??? Take care M “

But yesterday, Mistress may have taken that inspiration thing a bit too far. As mentioned yesterday, her new Dom had given her some very specific instructions about how he wanted her bush trimmed before their next encounter (which is this evening). His instructions called for a thin racing stripe of hair running from the top of her lips toward her belly button, a little wider at the top than at the bottom.

We had some “fun” (as described in yesterday’s post) complying with his instructions, and I thought we had done a pretty good job. Later yesterday, M wrote back describing how he and his wife/ Domme get Brazilian waxes to deal with these issues:

“Yes, I think I have told you guys I have been shaving and more reciently getting brazialian waxs for several years. B gets waxed once a month,,, not brazialian but pretty short and close. Its FUCKING HOT. I couldn't reccomend it more highly. Not that you guys need any more way to make yourselves hot..”

Well, Mistress had a little extra time on her hands yesterday, so inspired by M and no doubt anxious to impress her Dom, she made an appointment for late yesterday afternoon. She was going for the wax, a first for her. When I passed that on to M he had some suggestions on what to ask for:

“I think [the Dom] will LOVE it! I think you will too. Most important I think Molly will be very pleased. FYI Molly in... "waxing terms" I would recommend the complete Brazilian including the butt crack and just leave a short triangle right over the genitals. Have them take all the hair to each side of the labia, and all of it from around the anus. HOT. you will love it!”

Well I passed these instructions on, and Mistress was off on her quest.

But when I got home, Mistress was a little red faced when I asked to see the results.

As she lowered her panties, what she revealed was, as M promised, very very hot. But there was a problem: all of her hair was now gone. No little racing stripe.

It was her first time, and it seems she had failed to convey all of the details of M’s instructions.

I was anxious to take Mistress’s new look for a test drive. Quickly her panties were off, she was lying across our bed, and I was on my knees for some worship time.

She was soooo smooth. And her clit was soooo available.

“Did it turn you on when they did this Mistress?

“Yes, a little Slave.”

Right. “ A little.”

My tongue teased, sliding across her.

“Why, Mistress.”

“The thought of him … and you, of course, inspecting me, Slave.”

It was nice to be included.

Soon Mistress was coming for me, her hips thrusting against my head, my face wet from her flowing juices. And not a threat of getting a loose pube stuck in my teeth.

Would you be surprised to know that we then jettisoned our plans for a bike ride so that we could more fully explore Mistress’s new look and texture?

But the elephant in the room is this: Will Dom be happy with the new look? Or will there be punishment in store because Mistress failed to follow instructions?

Clear Cutting

Mick and Molly have enjoyed striking up some conversations with a variety of our readers. You add some perspective and egg us on. So in some ways this blog has become interactive. We hope that we inspire you us as much as you have inspired us.


Our friend M from out West has been particularly enthusiastic of late in sharing some adventures of his own. Here is what he said after Monday’s posting with a picture of Mistress tied to our bed:

“The switch day pictures are always my favorites, because they always feature Molly's beauitful ass. I must still have a lot more of the dom in me than I admit.

B had a long "conversation" with me over her lap this morning about toping from the bottom. She claims I so it all the time and she doesn't approve. She claims I am still very dominant. She used her hairbrush harder than she ever has to drive home this failing on my part. She said "you don't like this spanking at all do you slave." MO MAMM!!! She said good and proceeded to spank longer and harder. I was pleading and begging her to stop promising to never be dominant again.. She totally ignored me and just kept blistering my bare bottom. B doesn't believe in safe words for spanking and I don't have one. As she says, “wouldn't be a real spanking If I could stop it...would it slave??? “

She then had me get her "huge blue cock". I really is very big 8 inches long and 6 inches around. B said a good long hard fucking may be just the ticket to make me more submissive. She fucked me VERY hard and VERY long. After she came as many times as she wanted she made me "service her bottom." She said that was another good submissive act for her slave to do to reinforce his submission. WOW what a morning. She finally allowed her slave to fuck her and get some relief!.

I'm in love! The harder she uses me the more I love her??? Take care M “

But yesterday, Mistress may have taken that inspiration thing a bit too far. As mentioned yesterday, her new Dom had given her some very specific instructions about how he wanted her bush trimmed before their next encounter (which is this evening). His instructions called for a thin racing stripe of hair running from the top of her lips toward her belly button, a little wider at the top than at the bottom.

We had some “fun” (as described in yesterday’s post) complying with his instructions, and I thought we had done a pretty good job. Later yesterday, M wrote back describing how he and his wife/ Domme get Brazilian waxes to deal with these issues:

“Yes, I think I have told you guys I have been shaving and more reciently getting brazialian waxs for several years. B gets waxed once a month,,, not brazialian but pretty short and close. Its FUCKING HOT. I couldn't reccomend it more highly. Not that you guys need any more way to make yourselves hot..”

Well, Mistress had a little extra time on her hands yesterday, so inspired by M and no doubt anxious to impress her Dom, she made an appointment for late yesterday afternoon. She was going for the wax, a first for her. When I passed that on to M he had some suggestions on what to ask for:

“I think [the Dom] will LOVE it! I think you will too. Most important I think Molly will be very pleased. FYI Molly in... "waxing terms" I would recommend the complete Brazilian including the butt crack and just leave a short triangle right over the genitals. Have them take all the hair to each side of the labia, and all of it from around the anus. HOT. you will love it!”

Well I passed these instructions on, and Mistress was off on her quest.

But when I got home, Mistress was a little red faced when I asked to see the results.

As she lowered her panties, what she revealed was, as M promised, very very hot. But there was a problem: all of her hair was now gone. No little racing stripe.

It was her first time, and it seems she had failed to convey all of the details of M’s instructions.

I was anxious to take Mistress’s new look for a test drive. Quickly her panties were off, she was lying across our bed, and I was on my knees for some worship time.

She was soooo smooth. And her clit was soooo available.

“Did it turn you on when they did this Mistress?

“Yes, a little Slave.”

Right. “ A little.”

My tongue teased, sliding across her.

“Why, Mistress.”

“The thought of him … and you, of course, inspecting me, Slave.”

It was nice to be included.

Soon Mistress was coming for me, her hips thrusting against my head, my face wet from her flowing juices. And not a threat of getting a loose pube stuck in my teeth.

Would you be surprised to know that we then jettisoned our plans for a bike ride so that we could more fully explore Mistress’s new look and texture?

But the elephant in the room is this: Will Dom be happy with the new look? Or will there be punishment in store because Mistress failed to follow instructions?

Clear Cutting

Mick and Molly have enjoyed striking up some conversations with a variety of our readers. You add some perspective and egg us on. So in some ways this blog has become interactive. We hope that we inspire you us as much as you have inspired us.


Our friend M from out West has been particularly enthusiastic of late in sharing some adventures of his own. Here is what he said after Monday’s posting with a picture of Mistress tied to our bed:

“The switch day pictures are always my favorites, because they always feature Molly's beauitful ass. I must still have a lot more of the dom in me than I admit.

B had a long "conversation" with me over her lap this morning about toping from the bottom. She claims I so it all the time and she doesn't approve. She claims I am still very dominant. She used her hairbrush harder than she ever has to drive home this failing on my part. She said "you don't like this spanking at all do you slave." MO MAMM!!! She said good and proceeded to spank longer and harder. I was pleading and begging her to stop promising to never be dominant again.. She totally ignored me and just kept blistering my bare bottom. B doesn't believe in safe words for spanking and I don't have one. As she says, “wouldn't be a real spanking If I could stop it...would it slave??? “

She then had me get her "huge blue cock". I really is very big 8 inches long and 6 inches around. B said a good long hard fucking may be just the ticket to make me more submissive. She fucked me VERY hard and VERY long. After she came as many times as she wanted she made me "service her bottom." She said that was another good submissive act for her slave to do to reinforce his submission. WOW what a morning. She finally allowed her slave to fuck her and get some relief!.

I'm in love! The harder she uses me the more I love her??? Take care M “

But yesterday, Mistress may have taken that inspiration thing a bit too far. As mentioned yesterday, her new Dom had given her some very specific instructions about how he wanted her bush trimmed before their next encounter (which is this evening). His instructions called for a thin racing stripe of hair running from the top of her lips toward her belly button, a little wider at the top than at the bottom.

We had some “fun” (as described in yesterday’s post) complying with his instructions, and I thought we had done a pretty good job. Later yesterday, M wrote back describing how he and his wife/ Domme get Brazilian waxes to deal with these issues:

“Yes, I think I have told you guys I have been shaving and more reciently getting brazialian waxs for several years. B gets waxed once a month,,, not brazialian but pretty short and close. Its FUCKING HOT. I couldn't reccomend it more highly. Not that you guys need any more way to make yourselves hot..”

Well, Mistress had a little extra time on her hands yesterday, so inspired by M and no doubt anxious to impress her Dom, she made an appointment for late yesterday afternoon. She was going for the wax, a first for her. When I passed that on to M he had some suggestions on what to ask for:

“I think [the Dom] will LOVE it! I think you will too. Most important I think Molly will be very pleased. FYI Molly in... "waxing terms" I would recommend the complete Brazilian including the butt crack and just leave a short triangle right over the genitals. Have them take all the hair to each side of the labia, and all of it from around the anus. HOT. you will love it!”

Well I passed these instructions on, and Mistress was off on her quest.

But when I got home, Mistress was a little red faced when I asked to see the results.

As she lowered her panties, what she revealed was, as M promised, very very hot. But there was a problem: all of her hair was now gone. No little racing stripe.

It was her first time, and it seems she had failed to convey all of the details of M’s instructions.

I was anxious to take Mistress’s new look for a test drive. Quickly her panties were off, she was lying across our bed, and I was on my knees for some worship time.

She was soooo smooth. And her clit was soooo available.

“Did it turn you on when they did this Mistress?

“Yes, a little Slave.”

Right. “ A little.”

My tongue teased, sliding across her.

“Why, Mistress.”

“The thought of him … and you, of course, inspecting me, Slave.”

It was nice to be included.

Soon Mistress was coming for me, her hips thrusting against my head, my face wet from her flowing juices. And not a threat of getting a loose pube stuck in my teeth.

Would you be surprised to know that we then jettisoned our plans for a bike ride so that we could more fully explore Mistress’s new look and texture?

But the elephant in the room is this: Will Dom be happy with the new look? Or will there be punishment in store because Mistress failed to follow instructions?

Forced

Both Mistress and Slave slept a little later than normal Sunday morning, after being out at a later than normal for a party, and adjusting to the dreaded “spring forward” loss of an hour.

Mistress had been dressed Saturday night in one of her Domme-ish uniforms: black tights and boots, a short black dress highlighted by a long turquoise scarf. She turned more than a few heads at a party where guests had been told to wear “pajamas”. Of course, had Mistress actually worn her sleepwear, jaws would have dropped on those turning heads.

When we got home from the party, we were both a little tired and a good bit tipsy. So there was no sex. But Mistress, asked if she should keep her tights on. I have a bit of a fetish in that department, so was glad to sidle up to her in bed, naked as she requires, my cock pressing against the sensuous fabric that covered her strong legs and firm bottom.

The papers were spread across the bed, and both of us were still a tad groggy. But with the surly teens still out at “sleepovers”, I knew I should not lose my opportunity to pounce. It was my “switch” day.



I shared a paragraph from our contract yesterday. Here is the pertinent portion of the contract governing our Sunday AM rituals:


“5. On Sunday mornings for at least 2 hours, and at other times of the week, upon agreement of the parties, Mistress will submit completely and totally to slave, as if she was the Slave and he was the Master/Owner of her under the terms of this agreement.”

I go pretty easy on Mistress most Sunday mornings. And since we were both still a bit groggy, it seemed that this Sunday would be particularly easy duty for her. I pulled out our leather cuffs, locked them on, and affixed them to opposite ends of a long leather strap that wraps around the head of our bed. As the photo shows, her legs were free, her arms lazily spread apart. She had a good range of movement, though it would have been challenging for her to roll over. Hardly stringent bondage, but at least she understood that she was “at my mercy.”

I retrieved our “power tool” from the closet where it is kept to limit raised eyebrows and plugged it in. Mistress raised her eyebrows. She always likes that form of therapy.

Sitting next to her on the bed, I began to fondle her tight ass, making her squirm. I rewarded her squirming with an occasional hard slap to her bottom. That only made her squirm a little more.

“That hurts, Slave.”

“Baloney. You love it.”

I got no denial.

Straddling her I rubbed her shoulders and back. Those generated sighs of contentment.

After Mistress seemed both relaxed and content in her restraints, I reached for the Magic Wand.

My first strokes were to her back and shoulders. Mistress’s lower back can get a little achy. The combination of all that biking and all that sex are probably to blame. So that part of her got particular attention.

Then I mover to her legs, and as the wand played across her inner thighs, the squirming resumed. And I could detect the appealing scent of her arousal.

“I can smell you Mistress. You’re getting a little anxious aren’t you.”

“How do I smell, Slave.”

“Delicious.”

Then I dipped the tool to her right foot, playing it across its lovely curved arch. The reaction was immediate.

“Hey….stop that.” Her foot tried to squirm away. A discovery: Mistress’s foot was ticklish and the tool was driving her crazy.

Like the crazy Congressman from NY, I had to take advantage. There ensued a few minutes of Mistress straining at her bonds, and me grabbing her foot with one hand and applying the wand with another. It’s always nice to discover a new way to “torture” my occasional “Slave”.

And I particularly enjoyed ignoring her “demands” that I stop.

All that squirming also seemed to be taking its toll on Mistress’s cunt. Her breathing was more rapid. The scent of her arousal was more pronounced. So it became hard for me to resist, releasing her foot to get to some of the better parts.

As the Wand slid up Mistress’s black tighted thigh, her body tensed. She knew what was coming.

With her hands tied, she still had the ability to move her hips, and with the wand pressed under her and between her legs, Mistress’s movements became more frantic, with her thighs gripping hard against my hand and the buzzing tool it held.

Soon Mistress was tipped over the edge, moaning into her pillow. She hugged the device too her until she was done with both the main event and a series of aftershocks.

Then her muscles relaxed.

“Enough Slave.”

But I was not quite done with her.

Rather than pulling the Wand away, I began to press it against her again, rubbing gently, then more insistently.

“what are you doing, Slave?”

“I’m not so sure you’ve had enough, Mistress.”

I was going to force another one out of her. And I think she liked the idea that she was not in charge of this one.

Soon Mistress was more in the spirit of my re-assault, her hips sliding too and fro against the device. And then she was moaning and writhing all over again.

I cuddled against her, turning off the Wand. I had made my point. Then I released her and helped her roll over.

I was not quite done.

Forced

Both Mistress and Slave slept a little later than normal Sunday morning, after being out at a later than normal for a party, and adjusting to the dreaded “spring forward” loss of an hour.

Mistress had been dressed Saturday night in one of her Domme-ish uniforms: black tights and boots, a short black dress highlighted by a long turquoise scarf. She turned more than a few heads at a party where guests had been told to wear “pajamas”. Of course, had Mistress actually worn her sleepwear, jaws would have dropped on those turning heads.

When we got home from the party, we were both a little tired and a good bit tipsy. So there was no sex. But Mistress, asked if she should keep her tights on. I have a bit of a fetish in that department, so was glad to sidle up to her in bed, naked as she requires, my cock pressing against the sensuous fabric that covered her strong legs and firm bottom.

The papers were spread across the bed, and both of us were still a tad groggy. But with the surly teens still out at “sleepovers”, I knew I should not lose my opportunity to pounce. It was my “switch” day.



I shared a paragraph from our contract yesterday. Here is the pertinent portion of the contract governing our Sunday AM rituals:


“5. On Sunday mornings for at least 2 hours, and at other times of the week, upon agreement of the parties, Mistress will submit completely and totally to slave, as if she was the Slave and he was the Master/Owner of her under the terms of this agreement.”

I go pretty easy on Mistress most Sunday mornings. And since we were both still a bit groggy, it seemed that this Sunday would be particularly easy duty for her. I pulled out our leather cuffs, locked them on, and affixed them to opposite ends of a long leather strap that wraps around the head of our bed. As the photo shows, her legs were free, her arms lazily spread apart. She had a good range of movement, though it would have been challenging for her to roll over. Hardly stringent bondage, but at least she understood that she was “at my mercy.”

I retrieved our “power tool” from the closet where it is kept to limit raised eyebrows and plugged it in. Mistress raised her eyebrows. She always likes that form of therapy.

Sitting next to her on the bed, I began to fondle her tight ass, making her squirm. I rewarded her squirming with an occasional hard slap to her bottom. That only made her squirm a little more.

“That hurts, Slave.”

“Baloney. You love it.”

I got no denial.

Straddling her I rubbed her shoulders and back. Those generated sighs of contentment.

After Mistress seemed both relaxed and content in her restraints, I reached for the Magic Wand.

My first strokes were to her back and shoulders. Mistress’s lower back can get a little achy. The combination of all that biking and all that sex are probably to blame. So that part of her got particular attention.

Then I mover to her legs, and as the wand played across her inner thighs, the squirming resumed. And I could detect the appealing scent of her arousal.

“I can smell you Mistress. You’re getting a little anxious aren’t you.”

“How do I smell, Slave.”

“Delicious.”

Then I dipped the tool to her right foot, playing it across its lovely curved arch. The reaction was immediate.

“Hey….stop that.” Her foot tried to squirm away. A discovery: Mistress’s foot was ticklish and the tool was driving her crazy.

Like the crazy Congressman from NY, I had to take advantage. There ensued a few minutes of Mistress straining at her bonds, and me grabbing her foot with one hand and applying the wand with another. It’s always nice to discover a new way to “torture” my occasional “Slave”.

And I particularly enjoyed ignoring her “demands” that I stop.

All that squirming also seemed to be taking its toll on Mistress’s cunt. Her breathing was more rapid. The scent of her arousal was more pronounced. So it became hard for me to resist, releasing her foot to get to some of the better parts.

As the Wand slid up Mistress’s black tighted thigh, her body tensed. She knew what was coming.

With her hands tied, she still had the ability to move her hips, and with the wand pressed under her and between her legs, Mistress’s movements became more frantic, with her thighs gripping hard against my hand and the buzzing tool it held.

Soon Mistress was tipped over the edge, moaning into her pillow. She hugged the device too her until she was done with both the main event and a series of aftershocks.

Then her muscles relaxed.

“Enough Slave.”

But I was not quite done with her.

Rather than pulling the Wand away, I began to press it against her again, rubbing gently, then more insistently.

“what are you doing, Slave?”

“I’m not so sure you’ve had enough, Mistress.”

I was going to force another one out of her. And I think she liked the idea that she was not in charge of this one.

Soon Mistress was more in the spirit of my re-assault, her hips sliding too and fro against the device. And then she was moaning and writhing all over again.

I cuddled against her, turning off the Wand. I had made my point. Then I released her and helped her roll over.

I was not quite done.

Forced

Both Mistress and Slave slept a little later than normal Sunday morning, after being out at a later than normal for a party, and adjusting to the dreaded “spring forward” loss of an hour.

Mistress had been dressed Saturday night in one of her Domme-ish uniforms: black tights and boots, a short black dress highlighted by a long turquoise scarf. She turned more than a few heads at a party where guests had been told to wear “pajamas”. Of course, had Mistress actually worn her sleepwear, jaws would have dropped on those turning heads.

When we got home from the party, we were both a little tired and a good bit tipsy. So there was no sex. But Mistress, asked if she should keep her tights on. I have a bit of a fetish in that department, so was glad to sidle up to her in bed, naked as she requires, my cock pressing against the sensuous fabric that covered her strong legs and firm bottom.

The papers were spread across the bed, and both of us were still a tad groggy. But with the surly teens still out at “sleepovers”, I knew I should not lose my opportunity to pounce. It was my “switch” day.



I shared a paragraph from our contract yesterday. Here is the pertinent portion of the contract governing our Sunday AM rituals:


“5. On Sunday mornings for at least 2 hours, and at other times of the week, upon agreement of the parties, Mistress will submit completely and totally to slave, as if she was the Slave and he was the Master/Owner of her under the terms of this agreement.”

I go pretty easy on Mistress most Sunday mornings. And since we were both still a bit groggy, it seemed that this Sunday would be particularly easy duty for her. I pulled out our leather cuffs, locked them on, and affixed them to opposite ends of a long leather strap that wraps around the head of our bed. As the photo shows, her legs were free, her arms lazily spread apart. She had a good range of movement, though it would have been challenging for her to roll over. Hardly stringent bondage, but at least she understood that she was “at my mercy.”

I retrieved our “power tool” from the closet where it is kept to limit raised eyebrows and plugged it in. Mistress raised her eyebrows. She always likes that form of therapy.

Sitting next to her on the bed, I began to fondle her tight ass, making her squirm. I rewarded her squirming with an occasional hard slap to her bottom. That only made her squirm a little more.

“That hurts, Slave.”

“Baloney. You love it.”

I got no denial.

Straddling her I rubbed her shoulders and back. Those generated sighs of contentment.

After Mistress seemed both relaxed and content in her restraints, I reached for the Magic Wand.

My first strokes were to her back and shoulders. Mistress’s lower back can get a little achy. The combination of all that biking and all that sex are probably to blame. So that part of her got particular attention.

Then I mover to her legs, and as the wand played across her inner thighs, the squirming resumed. And I could detect the appealing scent of her arousal.

“I can smell you Mistress. You’re getting a little anxious aren’t you.”

“How do I smell, Slave.”

“Delicious.”

Then I dipped the tool to her right foot, playing it across its lovely curved arch. The reaction was immediate.

“Hey….stop that.” Her foot tried to squirm away. A discovery: Mistress’s foot was ticklish and the tool was driving her crazy.

Like the crazy Congressman from NY, I had to take advantage. There ensued a few minutes of Mistress straining at her bonds, and me grabbing her foot with one hand and applying the wand with another. It’s always nice to discover a new way to “torture” my occasional “Slave”.

And I particularly enjoyed ignoring her “demands” that I stop.

All that squirming also seemed to be taking its toll on Mistress’s cunt. Her breathing was more rapid. The scent of her arousal was more pronounced. So it became hard for me to resist, releasing her foot to get to some of the better parts.

As the Wand slid up Mistress’s black tighted thigh, her body tensed. She knew what was coming.

With her hands tied, she still had the ability to move her hips, and with the wand pressed under her and between her legs, Mistress’s movements became more frantic, with her thighs gripping hard against my hand and the buzzing tool it held.

Soon Mistress was tipped over the edge, moaning into her pillow. She hugged the device too her until she was done with both the main event and a series of aftershocks.

Then her muscles relaxed.

“Enough Slave.”

But I was not quite done with her.

Rather than pulling the Wand away, I began to press it against her again, rubbing gently, then more insistently.

“what are you doing, Slave?”

“I’m not so sure you’ve had enough, Mistress.”

I was going to force another one out of her. And I think she liked the idea that she was not in charge of this one.

Soon Mistress was more in the spirit of my re-assault, her hips sliding too and fro against the device. And then she was moaning and writhing all over again.

I cuddled against her, turning off the Wand. I had made my point. Then I released her and helped her roll over.

I was not quite done.