Our readers will be happy to know that Mistress seems to be her feisty self again after that scary headache sequence a week ago….she’s hungry for my tongue and cock, and what Slave would not relish rising to meet her hunger.
Yesterday started very early for us. Surly Teen # 1 was going on her Senior class trip to DC. I was assigned the task of getting her up and out by 4:30 am to catch the bus with her classmates.
Mission accomplished, I was fully awake, so coffee was brewed and I got the blog done and posted for her and all of you loyal followers. I noticed that Aisha was up early too!
Of course, all that smutty writing and reading got me a bit …. Agitated. So I climbed the stairs around 6 am, and Mistress seemed happy to see me. She read the blog, I showered her slippery folds with attention from lips and tongue…. I suspect you know where that led us. And afterwards, there was still time for us to fall asleep, clinging tight and close, before we finally climbed out of bed and took a pre-work bike ride around 7 am or so.
Mistress was back for more after lunch though…. Stopping by my office for some mid-day attention.
As she sat in her “throne” and wriggled out of those black tights…. Yes, ‘Nilla they do drive me crazy…. A theme she picks up in her story this morning 'Nilla: Domme Wife….she mentioned talking to our Western Correspondent earlier in the day.
“Was he glad I applied his sentence for you last night, Mistress?”
“Yes Slave…. He likes it when he can trigger some ‘epic’ sex for us…. But he says he would have given me a much crueler spanking….”
“No doubt, Mistress….”
By now I was on my knees, sliding my tongue through Mistress’s ripe and juicy parts. AS she came, Mistress wrapped her left leg around my neck, pulling he all the closer.
It’s nice to feel wanted.
On the drive home, we listened to a radio story about the “outrage” of the latest TSA airport screening procedure. Wasn’t it just a year ago that folks were whining about the security breech involving the “underwear bomber”? Now the outrage is that the security dudes might be looking at nakey scans of us, or groping our underwear?
Memories are short.
But it gave us something to talk about.
“I wonder if M’s special occasion cock would be the sort of ‘anomaly’ that triggers a hand frisk of his ‘junk’ Mistress?”
She just raised an eyebrow.
“Bad, Slave.”
“How do you think they would react if they saw my steel cage under there, Mistress?”
She laughed.
“They’d go crazy, Slave.”
I’m waiting for the Tea Party types to propose a “free market” solution to this whole intrusive TSA search thing. Let the Airlines decide whether they want to have security or not. Just let their passengers know so they can decide whether to assume that messy risk.
So airlines could decide to sell tickets for flights with or without security searches, sort of like their “refundable” vs. “non-refundable” options. My guess is that some of us would assume the risk and buy the cheaper tickets. I’ll bet there would be some empty center seats on those flights! And ample room for your AK-47 in the overhead compartment.
But I digress with my rant….
By now it was Friday night. One teen was off on her excursion. The other was heading to a friend’s house. Mistress and Slave had nothing on the schedule.
You can imagine what that meant.
The luxury of pre-dinner sex and then a nap…. After all, we had gotten up early!
Soon we were naked. Sliding against one another, me spooning against Mistress warm, firm bottom, a hand wiggling it’s way between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for me.
You know where this went, don’t you?
Later we had a picnic in front of out TV, and I got to introduce Mistress to an old, favorite movie, Nashville. Lot’s of great music and funny 70’s double-knit leisure suits.
She lay there next to me on the couch. No undies. Legs spread casually. The musky fragrance of her recently fucked cunt was a low level distraction for me. And it wasn’t long before my fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to probe and fondle.
So Mistress got her last orgasm of the evening that way, while listening to Henry Gibson and Ronee Blakely croon a country chestnut.
I’m not sure she liked the movie. But she did seem to like what my digital attention.
Showing posts with label tights. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tights. Show all posts
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Just Another Friday
Our readers will be happy to know that Mistress seems to be her feisty self again after that scary headache sequence a week ago….she’s hungry for my tongue and cock, and what Slave would not relish rising to meet her hunger.
Yesterday started very early for us. Surly Teen # 1 was going on her Senior class trip to DC. I was assigned the task of getting her up and out by 4:30 am to catch the bus with her classmates.
Mission accomplished, I was fully awake, so coffee was brewed and I got the blog done and posted for her and all of you loyal followers. I noticed that Aisha was up early too!
Of course, all that smutty writing and reading got me a bit …. Agitated. So I climbed the stairs around 6 am, and Mistress seemed happy to see me. She read the blog, I showered her slippery folds with attention from lips and tongue…. I suspect you know where that led us. And afterwards, there was still time for us to fall asleep, clinging tight and close, before we finally climbed out of bed and took a pre-work bike ride around 7 am or so.
Mistress was back for more after lunch though…. Stopping by my office for some mid-day attention.
As she sat in her “throne” and wriggled out of those black tights…. Yes, ‘Nilla they do drive me crazy…. A theme she picks up in her story this morning 'Nilla: Domme Wife….she mentioned talking to our Western Correspondent earlier in the day.
“Was he glad I applied his sentence for you last night, Mistress?”
“Yes Slave…. He likes it when he can trigger some ‘epic’ sex for us…. But he says he would have given me a much crueler spanking….”
“No doubt, Mistress….”
By now I was on my knees, sliding my tongue through Mistress’s ripe and juicy parts. AS she came, Mistress wrapped her left leg around my neck, pulling he all the closer.
It’s nice to feel wanted.
On the drive home, we listened to a radio story about the “outrage” of the latest TSA airport screening procedure. Wasn’t it just a year ago that folks were whining about the security breech involving the “underwear bomber”? Now the outrage is that the security dudes might be looking at nakey scans of us, or groping our underwear?
Memories are short.
But it gave us something to talk about.
“I wonder if M’s special occasion cock would be the sort of ‘anomaly’ that triggers a hand frisk of his ‘junk’ Mistress?”
She just raised an eyebrow.
“Bad, Slave.”
“How do you think they would react if they saw my steel cage under there, Mistress?”
She laughed.
“They’d go crazy, Slave.”
I’m waiting for the Tea Party types to propose a “free market” solution to this whole intrusive TSA search thing. Let the Airlines decide whether they want to have security or not. Just let their passengers know so they can decide whether to assume that messy risk.
So airlines could decide to sell tickets for flights with or without security searches, sort of like their “refundable” vs. “non-refundable” options. My guess is that some of us would assume the risk and buy the cheaper tickets. I’ll bet there would be some empty center seats on those flights! And ample room for your AK-47 in the overhead compartment.
But I digress with my rant….
By now it was Friday night. One teen was off on her excursion. The other was heading to a friend’s house. Mistress and Slave had nothing on the schedule.
You can imagine what that meant.
The luxury of pre-dinner sex and then a nap…. After all, we had gotten up early!
Soon we were naked. Sliding against one another, me spooning against Mistress warm, firm bottom, a hand wiggling it’s way between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for me.
You know where this went, don’t you?
Later we had a picnic in front of out TV, and I got to introduce Mistress to an old, favorite movie, Nashville. Lot’s of great music and funny 70’s double-knit leisure suits.
She lay there next to me on the couch. No undies. Legs spread casually. The musky fragrance of her recently fucked cunt was a low level distraction for me. And it wasn’t long before my fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to probe and fondle.
So Mistress got her last orgasm of the evening that way, while listening to Henry Gibson and Ronee Blakely croon a country chestnut.
I’m not sure she liked the movie. But she did seem to like what my digital attention.
Yesterday started very early for us. Surly Teen # 1 was going on her Senior class trip to DC. I was assigned the task of getting her up and out by 4:30 am to catch the bus with her classmates.
Mission accomplished, I was fully awake, so coffee was brewed and I got the blog done and posted for her and all of you loyal followers. I noticed that Aisha was up early too!
Of course, all that smutty writing and reading got me a bit …. Agitated. So I climbed the stairs around 6 am, and Mistress seemed happy to see me. She read the blog, I showered her slippery folds with attention from lips and tongue…. I suspect you know where that led us. And afterwards, there was still time for us to fall asleep, clinging tight and close, before we finally climbed out of bed and took a pre-work bike ride around 7 am or so.
Mistress was back for more after lunch though…. Stopping by my office for some mid-day attention.
As she sat in her “throne” and wriggled out of those black tights…. Yes, ‘Nilla they do drive me crazy…. A theme she picks up in her story this morning 'Nilla: Domme Wife….she mentioned talking to our Western Correspondent earlier in the day.
“Was he glad I applied his sentence for you last night, Mistress?”
“Yes Slave…. He likes it when he can trigger some ‘epic’ sex for us…. But he says he would have given me a much crueler spanking….”
“No doubt, Mistress….”
By now I was on my knees, sliding my tongue through Mistress’s ripe and juicy parts. AS she came, Mistress wrapped her left leg around my neck, pulling he all the closer.
It’s nice to feel wanted.
On the drive home, we listened to a radio story about the “outrage” of the latest TSA airport screening procedure. Wasn’t it just a year ago that folks were whining about the security breech involving the “underwear bomber”? Now the outrage is that the security dudes might be looking at nakey scans of us, or groping our underwear?
Memories are short.
But it gave us something to talk about.
“I wonder if M’s special occasion cock would be the sort of ‘anomaly’ that triggers a hand frisk of his ‘junk’ Mistress?”
She just raised an eyebrow.
“Bad, Slave.”
“How do you think they would react if they saw my steel cage under there, Mistress?”
She laughed.
“They’d go crazy, Slave.”
I’m waiting for the Tea Party types to propose a “free market” solution to this whole intrusive TSA search thing. Let the Airlines decide whether they want to have security or not. Just let their passengers know so they can decide whether to assume that messy risk.
So airlines could decide to sell tickets for flights with or without security searches, sort of like their “refundable” vs. “non-refundable” options. My guess is that some of us would assume the risk and buy the cheaper tickets. I’ll bet there would be some empty center seats on those flights! And ample room for your AK-47 in the overhead compartment.
But I digress with my rant….
By now it was Friday night. One teen was off on her excursion. The other was heading to a friend’s house. Mistress and Slave had nothing on the schedule.
You can imagine what that meant.
The luxury of pre-dinner sex and then a nap…. After all, we had gotten up early!
Soon we were naked. Sliding against one another, me spooning against Mistress warm, firm bottom, a hand wiggling it’s way between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for me.
You know where this went, don’t you?
Later we had a picnic in front of out TV, and I got to introduce Mistress to an old, favorite movie, Nashville. Lot’s of great music and funny 70’s double-knit leisure suits.
She lay there next to me on the couch. No undies. Legs spread casually. The musky fragrance of her recently fucked cunt was a low level distraction for me. And it wasn’t long before my fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to probe and fondle.
So Mistress got her last orgasm of the evening that way, while listening to Henry Gibson and Ronee Blakely croon a country chestnut.
I’m not sure she liked the movie. But she did seem to like what my digital attention.
Just Another Friday
Our readers will be happy to know that Mistress seems to be her feisty self again after that scary headache sequence a week ago….she’s hungry for my tongue and cock, and what Slave would not relish rising to meet her hunger.
Yesterday started very early for us. Surly Teen # 1 was going on her Senior class trip to DC. I was assigned the task of getting her up and out by 4:30 am to catch the bus with her classmates.
Mission accomplished, I was fully awake, so coffee was brewed and I got the blog done and posted for her and all of you loyal followers. I noticed that Aisha was up early too!
Of course, all that smutty writing and reading got me a bit …. Agitated. So I climbed the stairs around 6 am, and Mistress seemed happy to see me. She read the blog, I showered her slippery folds with attention from lips and tongue…. I suspect you know where that led us. And afterwards, there was still time for us to fall asleep, clinging tight and close, before we finally climbed out of bed and took a pre-work bike ride around 7 am or so.
Mistress was back for more after lunch though…. Stopping by my office for some mid-day attention.
As she sat in her “throne” and wriggled out of those black tights…. Yes, ‘Nilla they do drive me crazy…. A theme she picks up in her story this morning 'Nilla: Domme Wife….she mentioned talking to our Western Correspondent earlier in the day.
“Was he glad I applied his sentence for you last night, Mistress?”
“Yes Slave…. He likes it when he can trigger some ‘epic’ sex for us…. But he says he would have given me a much crueler spanking….”
“No doubt, Mistress….”
By now I was on my knees, sliding my tongue through Mistress’s ripe and juicy parts. AS she came, Mistress wrapped her left leg around my neck, pulling he all the closer.
It’s nice to feel wanted.
On the drive home, we listened to a radio story about the “outrage” of the latest TSA airport screening procedure. Wasn’t it just a year ago that folks were whining about the security breech involving the “underwear bomber”? Now the outrage is that the security dudes might be looking at nakey scans of us, or groping our underwear?
Memories are short.
But it gave us something to talk about.
“I wonder if M’s special occasion cock would be the sort of ‘anomaly’ that triggers a hand frisk of his ‘junk’ Mistress?”
She just raised an eyebrow.
“Bad, Slave.”
“How do you think they would react if they saw my steel cage under there, Mistress?”
She laughed.
“They’d go crazy, Slave.”
I’m waiting for the Tea Party types to propose a “free market” solution to this whole intrusive TSA search thing. Let the Airlines decide whether they want to have security or not. Just let their passengers know so they can decide whether to assume that messy risk.
So airlines could decide to sell tickets for flights with or without security searches, sort of like their “refundable” vs. “non-refundable” options. My guess is that some of us would assume the risk and buy the cheaper tickets. I’ll bet there would be some empty center seats on those flights! And ample room for your AK-47 in the overhead compartment.
But I digress with my rant….
By now it was Friday night. One teen was off on her excursion. The other was heading to a friend’s house. Mistress and Slave had nothing on the schedule.
You can imagine what that meant.
The luxury of pre-dinner sex and then a nap…. After all, we had gotten up early!
Soon we were naked. Sliding against one another, me spooning against Mistress warm, firm bottom, a hand wiggling it’s way between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for me.
You know where this went, don’t you?
Later we had a picnic in front of out TV, and I got to introduce Mistress to an old, favorite movie, Nashville. Lot’s of great music and funny 70’s double-knit leisure suits.
She lay there next to me on the couch. No undies. Legs spread casually. The musky fragrance of her recently fucked cunt was a low level distraction for me. And it wasn’t long before my fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to probe and fondle.
So Mistress got her last orgasm of the evening that way, while listening to Henry Gibson and Ronee Blakely croon a country chestnut.
I’m not sure she liked the movie. But she did seem to like what my digital attention.
Yesterday started very early for us. Surly Teen # 1 was going on her Senior class trip to DC. I was assigned the task of getting her up and out by 4:30 am to catch the bus with her classmates.
Mission accomplished, I was fully awake, so coffee was brewed and I got the blog done and posted for her and all of you loyal followers. I noticed that Aisha was up early too!
Of course, all that smutty writing and reading got me a bit …. Agitated. So I climbed the stairs around 6 am, and Mistress seemed happy to see me. She read the blog, I showered her slippery folds with attention from lips and tongue…. I suspect you know where that led us. And afterwards, there was still time for us to fall asleep, clinging tight and close, before we finally climbed out of bed and took a pre-work bike ride around 7 am or so.
Mistress was back for more after lunch though…. Stopping by my office for some mid-day attention.
As she sat in her “throne” and wriggled out of those black tights…. Yes, ‘Nilla they do drive me crazy…. A theme she picks up in her story this morning 'Nilla: Domme Wife….she mentioned talking to our Western Correspondent earlier in the day.
“Was he glad I applied his sentence for you last night, Mistress?”
“Yes Slave…. He likes it when he can trigger some ‘epic’ sex for us…. But he says he would have given me a much crueler spanking….”
“No doubt, Mistress….”
By now I was on my knees, sliding my tongue through Mistress’s ripe and juicy parts. AS she came, Mistress wrapped her left leg around my neck, pulling he all the closer.
It’s nice to feel wanted.
On the drive home, we listened to a radio story about the “outrage” of the latest TSA airport screening procedure. Wasn’t it just a year ago that folks were whining about the security breech involving the “underwear bomber”? Now the outrage is that the security dudes might be looking at nakey scans of us, or groping our underwear?
Memories are short.
But it gave us something to talk about.
“I wonder if M’s special occasion cock would be the sort of ‘anomaly’ that triggers a hand frisk of his ‘junk’ Mistress?”
She just raised an eyebrow.
“Bad, Slave.”
“How do you think they would react if they saw my steel cage under there, Mistress?”
She laughed.
“They’d go crazy, Slave.”
I’m waiting for the Tea Party types to propose a “free market” solution to this whole intrusive TSA search thing. Let the Airlines decide whether they want to have security or not. Just let their passengers know so they can decide whether to assume that messy risk.
So airlines could decide to sell tickets for flights with or without security searches, sort of like their “refundable” vs. “non-refundable” options. My guess is that some of us would assume the risk and buy the cheaper tickets. I’ll bet there would be some empty center seats on those flights! And ample room for your AK-47 in the overhead compartment.
But I digress with my rant….
By now it was Friday night. One teen was off on her excursion. The other was heading to a friend’s house. Mistress and Slave had nothing on the schedule.
You can imagine what that meant.
The luxury of pre-dinner sex and then a nap…. After all, we had gotten up early!
Soon we were naked. Sliding against one another, me spooning against Mistress warm, firm bottom, a hand wiggling it’s way between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for me.
You know where this went, don’t you?
Later we had a picnic in front of out TV, and I got to introduce Mistress to an old, favorite movie, Nashville. Lot’s of great music and funny 70’s double-knit leisure suits.
She lay there next to me on the couch. No undies. Legs spread casually. The musky fragrance of her recently fucked cunt was a low level distraction for me. And it wasn’t long before my fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to probe and fondle.
So Mistress got her last orgasm of the evening that way, while listening to Henry Gibson and Ronee Blakely croon a country chestnut.
I’m not sure she liked the movie. But she did seem to like what my digital attention.
Just Another Friday
Our readers will be happy to know that Mistress seems to be her feisty self again after that scary headache sequence a week ago….she’s hungry for my tongue and cock, and what Slave would not relish rising to meet her hunger.
Yesterday started very early for us. Surly Teen # 1 was going on her Senior class trip to DC. I was assigned the task of getting her up and out by 4:30 am to catch the bus with her classmates.
Mission accomplished, I was fully awake, so coffee was brewed and I got the blog done and posted for her and all of you loyal followers. I noticed that Aisha was up early too!
Of course, all that smutty writing and reading got me a bit …. Agitated. So I climbed the stairs around 6 am, and Mistress seemed happy to see me. She read the blog, I showered her slippery folds with attention from lips and tongue…. I suspect you know where that led us. And afterwards, there was still time for us to fall asleep, clinging tight and close, before we finally climbed out of bed and took a pre-work bike ride around 7 am or so.
Mistress was back for more after lunch though…. Stopping by my office for some mid-day attention.
As she sat in her “throne” and wriggled out of those black tights…. Yes, ‘Nilla they do drive me crazy…. A theme she picks up in her story this morning 'Nilla: Domme Wife….she mentioned talking to our Western Correspondent earlier in the day.
“Was he glad I applied his sentence for you last night, Mistress?”
“Yes Slave…. He likes it when he can trigger some ‘epic’ sex for us…. But he says he would have given me a much crueler spanking….”
“No doubt, Mistress….”
By now I was on my knees, sliding my tongue through Mistress’s ripe and juicy parts. AS she came, Mistress wrapped her left leg around my neck, pulling he all the closer.
It’s nice to feel wanted.
On the drive home, we listened to a radio story about the “outrage” of the latest TSA airport screening procedure. Wasn’t it just a year ago that folks were whining about the security breech involving the “underwear bomber”? Now the outrage is that the security dudes might be looking at nakey scans of us, or groping our underwear?
Memories are short.
But it gave us something to talk about.
“I wonder if M’s special occasion cock would be the sort of ‘anomaly’ that triggers a hand frisk of his ‘junk’ Mistress?”
She just raised an eyebrow.
“Bad, Slave.”
“How do you think they would react if they saw my steel cage under there, Mistress?”
She laughed.
“They’d go crazy, Slave.”
I’m waiting for the Tea Party types to propose a “free market” solution to this whole intrusive TSA search thing. Let the Airlines decide whether they want to have security or not. Just let their passengers know so they can decide whether to assume that messy risk.
So airlines could decide to sell tickets for flights with or without security searches, sort of like their “refundable” vs. “non-refundable” options. My guess is that some of us would assume the risk and buy the cheaper tickets. I’ll bet there would be some empty center seats on those flights! And ample room for your AK-47 in the overhead compartment.
But I digress with my rant….
By now it was Friday night. One teen was off on her excursion. The other was heading to a friend’s house. Mistress and Slave had nothing on the schedule.
You can imagine what that meant.
The luxury of pre-dinner sex and then a nap…. After all, we had gotten up early!
Soon we were naked. Sliding against one another, me spooning against Mistress warm, firm bottom, a hand wiggling it’s way between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for me.
You know where this went, don’t you?
Later we had a picnic in front of out TV, and I got to introduce Mistress to an old, favorite movie, Nashville. Lot’s of great music and funny 70’s double-knit leisure suits.
She lay there next to me on the couch. No undies. Legs spread casually. The musky fragrance of her recently fucked cunt was a low level distraction for me. And it wasn’t long before my fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to probe and fondle.
So Mistress got her last orgasm of the evening that way, while listening to Henry Gibson and Ronee Blakely croon a country chestnut.
I’m not sure she liked the movie. But she did seem to like what my digital attention.
Yesterday started very early for us. Surly Teen # 1 was going on her Senior class trip to DC. I was assigned the task of getting her up and out by 4:30 am to catch the bus with her classmates.
Mission accomplished, I was fully awake, so coffee was brewed and I got the blog done and posted for her and all of you loyal followers. I noticed that Aisha was up early too!
Of course, all that smutty writing and reading got me a bit …. Agitated. So I climbed the stairs around 6 am, and Mistress seemed happy to see me. She read the blog, I showered her slippery folds with attention from lips and tongue…. I suspect you know where that led us. And afterwards, there was still time for us to fall asleep, clinging tight and close, before we finally climbed out of bed and took a pre-work bike ride around 7 am or so.
Mistress was back for more after lunch though…. Stopping by my office for some mid-day attention.
As she sat in her “throne” and wriggled out of those black tights…. Yes, ‘Nilla they do drive me crazy…. A theme she picks up in her story this morning 'Nilla: Domme Wife….she mentioned talking to our Western Correspondent earlier in the day.
“Was he glad I applied his sentence for you last night, Mistress?”
“Yes Slave…. He likes it when he can trigger some ‘epic’ sex for us…. But he says he would have given me a much crueler spanking….”
“No doubt, Mistress….”
By now I was on my knees, sliding my tongue through Mistress’s ripe and juicy parts. AS she came, Mistress wrapped her left leg around my neck, pulling he all the closer.
It’s nice to feel wanted.
On the drive home, we listened to a radio story about the “outrage” of the latest TSA airport screening procedure. Wasn’t it just a year ago that folks were whining about the security breech involving the “underwear bomber”? Now the outrage is that the security dudes might be looking at nakey scans of us, or groping our underwear?
Memories are short.
But it gave us something to talk about.
“I wonder if M’s special occasion cock would be the sort of ‘anomaly’ that triggers a hand frisk of his ‘junk’ Mistress?”
She just raised an eyebrow.
“Bad, Slave.”
“How do you think they would react if they saw my steel cage under there, Mistress?”
She laughed.
“They’d go crazy, Slave.”
I’m waiting for the Tea Party types to propose a “free market” solution to this whole intrusive TSA search thing. Let the Airlines decide whether they want to have security or not. Just let their passengers know so they can decide whether to assume that messy risk.
So airlines could decide to sell tickets for flights with or without security searches, sort of like their “refundable” vs. “non-refundable” options. My guess is that some of us would assume the risk and buy the cheaper tickets. I’ll bet there would be some empty center seats on those flights! And ample room for your AK-47 in the overhead compartment.
But I digress with my rant….
By now it was Friday night. One teen was off on her excursion. The other was heading to a friend’s house. Mistress and Slave had nothing on the schedule.
You can imagine what that meant.
The luxury of pre-dinner sex and then a nap…. After all, we had gotten up early!
Soon we were naked. Sliding against one another, me spooning against Mistress warm, firm bottom, a hand wiggling it’s way between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for me.
You know where this went, don’t you?
Later we had a picnic in front of out TV, and I got to introduce Mistress to an old, favorite movie, Nashville. Lot’s of great music and funny 70’s double-knit leisure suits.
She lay there next to me on the couch. No undies. Legs spread casually. The musky fragrance of her recently fucked cunt was a low level distraction for me. And it wasn’t long before my fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to probe and fondle.
So Mistress got her last orgasm of the evening that way, while listening to Henry Gibson and Ronee Blakely croon a country chestnut.
I’m not sure she liked the movie. But she did seem to like what my digital attention.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Mistress Gets a Spanking
Mistress stopped by for some worship after lunch on Thursday, allowing me to take this picture of her as she makes her luscious cunt available for suitable worship. Hot lace up boots, don’t you think?
But that’s not what this entry is about…..is it?
No. Our sordid little tale of the day begins on our drive home.
“I think the Western Correspondent is a little pissed at me, Slave.”
This peaked my curiosity. Much more interesting than the gossip we had been sharing about the local non-profit poo-bahs.
“Oh really, Mistress…. Why would that be?”
“I told him maybe I need a REAL boyfriend…. Not one I just talk to on the phone or trade text messages with….”
This part got the attention of other parts of me. Actually a specific part.
Twitch. Damn. How predictable.
“Oh, really….. I bet that might get M a little annoyed, Mistress.”
I was going to ask for a little more detail, a rationale for her provocation, but then the chime on her text message went off.
I didn’t need to be told who it was asking for her attention.
“He says I need a spanking, Slave….”
“I am always happy to oblige, Mistress. Sunday is just a few days away.”
“I’m telling him ‘who put you in charge’”.
A few seconds later I heard the little chime again. She giggled. And she squirmed just a tad too. Mistress has her own tell-tale twitch.
“He says, ‘you did, Slave’….”
Ask him if I should advance that spanking to this evening, Mistress.
A few moments later we got M’s response.
“He says I should get ten hard ones tonight, with the shoe horn, Slave.”
Suddenly Mistress was in a compliant mood.
Inttiguing.
We arrived home, Mistress got some lasagna ready and popped it in the oven. Then it was upstairs to our Chambers.
I switched on the Evening News to dampen any unsavory sounds for curious teens. Don’t want them to think Dad abuses Mom.
Mistress stripped off that black form fitting dress you see above. She was down to her black bra and tights. I pulled a chair into the center of the room. The shoe horn – wooden and 15 inches or so long –was looped over the chair already.
How convenient.
“Pull down the tights and get over here Mistress. “
She was very obedient, settling over my lap.
My fingers couldn’t help but test and tease her.
“Hmmm…. Already wet, Mistress. You are his little slut, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am Slave.”
She took her medicine well. And when I got to ten, alternating cheeks, nice red stripes on her firm ass, she said, “that’s enough, Slave.”
“You were keeping count, Mistress?”
“I suppose I was….”
I gave her two more just for her own good. Then my fingers explored again. As I expected:
Soaking.
It’s so nice to have her squirming on my lap that way.
I got her close to her particular edge, but decided there was another, better way to skin this pussy.
“Come over to the bed, Mistress. Now it’s time for your reward.”
She lay there, on her back, her tights still drooped down to her thighs, pinning them together a bit. Not quite bondage, but a taste of it.
I reached for the Hitachi, on the floor under the bed, and thumbed it on.
Mistress seemed pleased, then increasingly excited as I pressed it home, exactly where she likes it.
But what was interesting was how she fought it, dragged out her inevitible surrender to its cunning and ultimately irresistible pulsation.
“It’s Ok to imagine it was M spanking you Mistress, and now forcing you to come for him.”
“I know, Slave….”
But it seemed Mistress was trying to struggle against it, trying to deny the tool’s power, and M’s power over her too.
But, alas, poor Mistress, we know how that comes out in the end, don’t we?
When Mistress finally surrendered to the inevitable, it was with one of those moaning, sobbing orgasms that left her with tears streaking the mascara left over from her day at the office.
It’s the kind of display that makes a Slave proud. Nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done.
And afterwards, once I helped her slide out of those tights, she took my cock in hand and made sure I surrendered to her too.
Mistress Gets a Spanking
Mistress stopped by for some worship after lunch on Thursday, allowing me to take this picture of her as she makes her luscious cunt available for suitable worship. Hot lace up boots, don’t you think?
But that’s not what this entry is about…..is it?
No. Our sordid little tale of the day begins on our drive home.
“I think the Western Correspondent is a little pissed at me, Slave.”
This peaked my curiosity. Much more interesting than the gossip we had been sharing about the local non-profit poo-bahs.
“Oh really, Mistress…. Why would that be?”
“I told him maybe I need a REAL boyfriend…. Not one I just talk to on the phone or trade text messages with….”
This part got the attention of other parts of me. Actually a specific part.
Twitch. Damn. How predictable.
“Oh, really….. I bet that might get M a little annoyed, Mistress.”
I was going to ask for a little more detail, a rationale for her provocation, but then the chime on her text message went off.
I didn’t need to be told who it was asking for her attention.
“He says I need a spanking, Slave….”
“I am always happy to oblige, Mistress. Sunday is just a few days away.”
“I’m telling him ‘who put you in charge’”.
A few seconds later I heard the little chime again. She giggled. And she squirmed just a tad too. Mistress has her own tell-tale twitch.
“He says, ‘you did, Slave’….”
Ask him if I should advance that spanking to this evening, Mistress.
A few moments later we got M’s response.
“He says I should get ten hard ones tonight, with the shoe horn, Slave.”
Suddenly Mistress was in a compliant mood.
Inttiguing.
We arrived home, Mistress got some lasagna ready and popped it in the oven. Then it was upstairs to our Chambers.
I switched on the Evening News to dampen any unsavory sounds for curious teens. Don’t want them to think Dad abuses Mom.
Mistress stripped off that black form fitting dress you see above. She was down to her black bra and tights. I pulled a chair into the center of the room. The shoe horn – wooden and 15 inches or so long –was looped over the chair already.
How convenient.
“Pull down the tights and get over here Mistress. “
She was very obedient, settling over my lap.
My fingers couldn’t help but test and tease her.
“Hmmm…. Already wet, Mistress. You are his little slut, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am Slave.”
She took her medicine well. And when I got to ten, alternating cheeks, nice red stripes on her firm ass, she said, “that’s enough, Slave.”
“You were keeping count, Mistress?”
“I suppose I was….”
I gave her two more just for her own good. Then my fingers explored again. As I expected:
Soaking.
It’s so nice to have her squirming on my lap that way.
I got her close to her particular edge, but decided there was another, better way to skin this pussy.
“Come over to the bed, Mistress. Now it’s time for your reward.”
She lay there, on her back, her tights still drooped down to her thighs, pinning them together a bit. Not quite bondage, but a taste of it.
I reached for the Hitachi, on the floor under the bed, and thumbed it on.
Mistress seemed pleased, then increasingly excited as I pressed it home, exactly where she likes it.
But what was interesting was how she fought it, dragged out her inevitible surrender to its cunning and ultimately irresistible pulsation.
“It’s Ok to imagine it was M spanking you Mistress, and now forcing you to come for him.”
“I know, Slave….”
But it seemed Mistress was trying to struggle against it, trying to deny the tool’s power, and M’s power over her too.
But, alas, poor Mistress, we know how that comes out in the end, don’t we?
When Mistress finally surrendered to the inevitable, it was with one of those moaning, sobbing orgasms that left her with tears streaking the mascara left over from her day at the office.
It’s the kind of display that makes a Slave proud. Nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done.
And afterwards, once I helped her slide out of those tights, she took my cock in hand and made sure I surrendered to her too.
Mistress Gets a Spanking
Mistress stopped by for some worship after lunch on Thursday, allowing me to take this picture of her as she makes her luscious cunt available for suitable worship. Hot lace up boots, don’t you think?
But that’s not what this entry is about…..is it?
No. Our sordid little tale of the day begins on our drive home.
“I think the Western Correspondent is a little pissed at me, Slave.”
This peaked my curiosity. Much more interesting than the gossip we had been sharing about the local non-profit poo-bahs.
“Oh really, Mistress…. Why would that be?”
“I told him maybe I need a REAL boyfriend…. Not one I just talk to on the phone or trade text messages with….”
This part got the attention of other parts of me. Actually a specific part.
Twitch. Damn. How predictable.
“Oh, really….. I bet that might get M a little annoyed, Mistress.”
I was going to ask for a little more detail, a rationale for her provocation, but then the chime on her text message went off.
I didn’t need to be told who it was asking for her attention.
“He says I need a spanking, Slave….”
“I am always happy to oblige, Mistress. Sunday is just a few days away.”
“I’m telling him ‘who put you in charge’”.
A few seconds later I heard the little chime again. She giggled. And she squirmed just a tad too. Mistress has her own tell-tale twitch.
“He says, ‘you did, Slave’….”
Ask him if I should advance that spanking to this evening, Mistress.
A few moments later we got M’s response.
“He says I should get ten hard ones tonight, with the shoe horn, Slave.”
Suddenly Mistress was in a compliant mood.
Inttiguing.
We arrived home, Mistress got some lasagna ready and popped it in the oven. Then it was upstairs to our Chambers.
I switched on the Evening News to dampen any unsavory sounds for curious teens. Don’t want them to think Dad abuses Mom.
Mistress stripped off that black form fitting dress you see above. She was down to her black bra and tights. I pulled a chair into the center of the room. The shoe horn – wooden and 15 inches or so long –was looped over the chair already.
How convenient.
“Pull down the tights and get over here Mistress. “
She was very obedient, settling over my lap.
My fingers couldn’t help but test and tease her.
“Hmmm…. Already wet, Mistress. You are his little slut, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am Slave.”
She took her medicine well. And when I got to ten, alternating cheeks, nice red stripes on her firm ass, she said, “that’s enough, Slave.”
“You were keeping count, Mistress?”
“I suppose I was….”
I gave her two more just for her own good. Then my fingers explored again. As I expected:
Soaking.
It’s so nice to have her squirming on my lap that way.
I got her close to her particular edge, but decided there was another, better way to skin this pussy.
“Come over to the bed, Mistress. Now it’s time for your reward.”
She lay there, on her back, her tights still drooped down to her thighs, pinning them together a bit. Not quite bondage, but a taste of it.
I reached for the Hitachi, on the floor under the bed, and thumbed it on.
Mistress seemed pleased, then increasingly excited as I pressed it home, exactly where she likes it.
But what was interesting was how she fought it, dragged out her inevitible surrender to its cunning and ultimately irresistible pulsation.
“It’s Ok to imagine it was M spanking you Mistress, and now forcing you to come for him.”
“I know, Slave….”
But it seemed Mistress was trying to struggle against it, trying to deny the tool’s power, and M’s power over her too.
But, alas, poor Mistress, we know how that comes out in the end, don’t we?
When Mistress finally surrendered to the inevitable, it was with one of those moaning, sobbing orgasms that left her with tears streaking the mascara left over from her day at the office.
It’s the kind of display that makes a Slave proud. Nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done.
And afterwards, once I helped her slide out of those tights, she took my cock in hand and made sure I surrendered to her too.
Mistress Gets a Spanking
Mistress stopped by for some worship after lunch on Thursday, allowing me to take this picture of her as she makes her luscious cunt available for suitable worship. Hot lace up boots, don’t you think?
But that’s not what this entry is about…..is it?
No. Our sordid little tale of the day begins on our drive home.
“I think the Western Correspondent is a little pissed at me, Slave.”
This peaked my curiosity. Much more interesting than the gossip we had been sharing about the local non-profit poo-bahs.
“Oh really, Mistress…. Why would that be?”
“I told him maybe I need a REAL boyfriend…. Not one I just talk to on the phone or trade text messages with….”
This part got the attention of other parts of me. Actually a specific part.
Twitch. Damn. How predictable.
“Oh, really….. I bet that might get M a little annoyed, Mistress.”
I was going to ask for a little more detail, a rationale for her provocation, but then the chime on her text message went off.
I didn’t need to be told who it was asking for her attention.
“He says I need a spanking, Slave….”
“I am always happy to oblige, Mistress. Sunday is just a few days away.”
“I’m telling him ‘who put you in charge’”.
A few seconds later I heard the little chime again. She giggled. And she squirmed just a tad too. Mistress has her own tell-tale twitch.
“He says, ‘you did, Slave’….”
Ask him if I should advance that spanking to this evening, Mistress.
A few moments later we got M’s response.
“He says I should get ten hard ones tonight, with the shoe horn, Slave.”
Suddenly Mistress was in a compliant mood.
Inttiguing.
We arrived home, Mistress got some lasagna ready and popped it in the oven. Then it was upstairs to our Chambers.
I switched on the Evening News to dampen any unsavory sounds for curious teens. Don’t want them to think Dad abuses Mom.
Mistress stripped off that black form fitting dress you see above. She was down to her black bra and tights. I pulled a chair into the center of the room. The shoe horn – wooden and 15 inches or so long –was looped over the chair already.
How convenient.
“Pull down the tights and get over here Mistress. “
She was very obedient, settling over my lap.
My fingers couldn’t help but test and tease her.
“Hmmm…. Already wet, Mistress. You are his little slut, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am Slave.”
She took her medicine well. And when I got to ten, alternating cheeks, nice red stripes on her firm ass, she said, “that’s enough, Slave.”
“You were keeping count, Mistress?”
“I suppose I was….”
I gave her two more just for her own good. Then my fingers explored again. As I expected:
Soaking.
It’s so nice to have her squirming on my lap that way.
I got her close to her particular edge, but decided there was another, better way to skin this pussy.
“Come over to the bed, Mistress. Now it’s time for your reward.”
She lay there, on her back, her tights still drooped down to her thighs, pinning them together a bit. Not quite bondage, but a taste of it.
I reached for the Hitachi, on the floor under the bed, and thumbed it on.
Mistress seemed pleased, then increasingly excited as I pressed it home, exactly where she likes it.
But what was interesting was how she fought it, dragged out her inevitible surrender to its cunning and ultimately irresistible pulsation.
“It’s Ok to imagine it was M spanking you Mistress, and now forcing you to come for him.”
“I know, Slave….”
But it seemed Mistress was trying to struggle against it, trying to deny the tool’s power, and M’s power over her too.
But, alas, poor Mistress, we know how that comes out in the end, don’t we?
When Mistress finally surrendered to the inevitable, it was with one of those moaning, sobbing orgasms that left her with tears streaking the mascara left over from her day at the office.
It’s the kind of display that makes a Slave proud. Nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done.
And afterwards, once I helped her slide out of those tights, she took my cock in hand and made sure I surrendered to her too.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Office Visit
Mistress stopped by my office yesterday between meetings in our not quite bustling downtown. I work near the top of a 90’s era office tower. My years of grinding away have earned me a corner office, with nice views overlooking our City and the River that runs past it.
On each side of me are less senior female employees in smaller offices. My assistant is just a few feet out the door, probably surfing the internet or chatting with friends on the phone, until I have the temerity to give her some real work to do.
I usually keep the door open, so my colleagues can feel free to share updates on the work we share, or talk about the latest coaching move for the local college football team. This is a career that has its challenges and fun, but on some days it can seem that the years have passed in a blur with the same clutter in the corner of my spacious confines that was there 10 years ago.
Mistress’s visits in these last few months have upset that tedium in a profoundly pleasing way.
On this day she walked in unannounced, between her business meetings. She is well known here, and need not wait in the reception area to be announced – what sort of Mistress would held up by a gate-keeper?
She was looking particularly powerful: form fitting black dress ending a few inches above her knees. Long dark hair up for a little more business cred. Black tights to fight off the chilling December air, and black boots almost touching her knees.
She shared some details of her day as I rose to hug her. I closed the door and we kissed tentatively, me concerned about messing up her red lipstick. But she insisted on a “real” kiss, lipstick be damned, so we did as my hands explored her breasts through that black dress. (I guess I should have asked permission?)
I knew she was on a tight schedule, so as we broke the clench, and I pulled the side chair against the door. My door has no lock, but a chair probably would slow the colleague or assistant who might be inclined to barge in with important news or today’s mail. She sat. I knelt before her, rubbing my face and mouth against the tops of her boots, then the insides of her thighs, enjoying the friction of my skin against the fabric of her opaque black hose, before pressing my mouth and nose against her divine cunt, already betraying her arousal.
Sometimes Mistress will tie my hands behind me with a brown leather strap we keep in a drawer at the office for such occasions. But not today.
Maybe its time to mention that yesterday, like most work days, I was wearing my cock cage. And, as always, the key was back at home in a secure location. As I kneel there between Mistress’s spread legs, I know there is no point in even considering that Mistress might return the favor until later that evening. So there is an added, frustrating edge to the service I will be performing, knowing that it is all about Mistress’s pleasure, as it should be.
After gorging myself on the delights of sucking Mistress’s juices through her tights and black panties, she sat up a bit and pulled them down to her boot tops, allowing her just enough room to spread her firm, toned thighs to accommodate my mouth and tongue.
AS my face buried itself there, my senses took in her full taste and aroma, something that has become increasingly addictive as my submission to her has grown deeper. And my cock strained against the confines of its cage. Ouch.
There are two techniques the slave employees under these circumstances. Tongues and fingers work well in a roundabout path to building Mistress to a slow, powerful orgasm. Sucking on Mistress’s red, swollen and glistening clit is the more direct route, and its what I usually choose in my office, when we can hear my colleagues talking and passing by my door, only feet away. As we build to that moment, Mistress begins to squirm in the chair, her hips thrusting out to meet my mouth, her face reddening, eyes closing. Its always a mystery to me what goes through Mistress’s mind as she comes that way, head gently pushing against the door behind her. And I wonder if my office neighbors can hear her muffled groan or strained breathing, or the beat her head must make against that door, as she reaches her crescendo.
Afterwards, I settle back onto my butt and rest as she recovers, before she stands to rearrange her disheveled cloths.
She kisses me again. Re-applies smeared lipstick. Shakes off the languor that might otherwise cloud her mind after a compelling sexual experience, and is ready for action again. She has another important business meeting and its time to move on.
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