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Mrs Fillmore made some new rules yesterday. I can now spend ALL the time I want on Facebook or Fetlife during the day. Chat away! These time-wasters mostly just annoy the First Lady, but she knows I am a social butterfly and need my fix. However, she doesn't want to be bothered with monitoring me to make sure I don't waste TOO much time. She came up with a simple solution. I can log on whenever I want, as long as I am fine with her tanning my ass at the end of the day. Heh. And while I enjoy a little bit of impact play, that's not what she means, I'm sure. It would not be fun in any way. More like a surgical strike that would leave me in pain for a while, with no happy, sexy, punctuation.
She's not a cruel woman, though. I can do two things to avoid said beating. And no, not either or, but rather both. At our last meeting of equals on the 23rd, I asked her to help me stay focused on a few things, and here she is obliging. As long as I write (to this blog, or at least 1000 words on a writing project) AND I work out, there's no punishment.
Yesterday was a success. 4100+ total words, 500+ on the blog and 3600 on a story, and I certainly qualified in one regard. When I was done, I hopped on the elliptical for an episode of Drunk History (21 minutes plus commercials) and hit the sack. She has decided that I should stay up after her as long as I'm writing or exercising. I took a long, cold shower to try and cool down, and went to bed. In her sleep, she reached out and checked to make sure I was firmly bound to the bed (have to use my teeth to affect it) and rolled over and went to sleep.
Which brings me to the lovely morning part of this post. She woke me up and told me she was going to work out, but I must stay in bed. I like to get up and take care of her, but I ALSO like laying in bed, awake, in the mornings. Or, in this case, half awake.
I must have dozed off, because I woke with her taking off my leg binding. Oh, and a dog wet with dew rolling on me. She then took off my wrist cuffs and had me slide over. The determined canine ignored our feet pushing on him, and so the three of us were in bed. (yes I'm changing the sheets today). We talked about subjects serious and whimsical, and then she told me to get up. I took her command literally, and got up and knelt on the bed, right around where her knees were. I was crowding out the dog, at this point.
She did not object to my interpretation, and soon was reaching up to caress me. She looked SO cute in her tiny workout shorts and tank top, that I got a little bit forward.
"I really want to be between your knees," I said, and she laughed a little laugh.
Her leg came over, and so I was between her knees, but still kneeling up. She indicated I should come back down, and I did so. Her hands found my nipples, and I was hard in a second, grinding against her as she pushed up against me, with her cute little purple shorts the only thing between us.
"Did you work out last night," she asked.
The whole morning pivoted on this question. I smiled and told her yes, and what I had done. I didn't even think about it until afterwards, but the whole morning would have gone MUCH differently if I hadn't worked out. Not the riding crop or the suede flogger, but the cat made out of parachute cord. Fucking OW! But as with all questions she asks me now I answer instantly and honestly, and she smiled, a big smile.
She pulled aside her shorts and guided me into her. At this point, the puppy had to take their leave. Once that was settled, we made love.
A note about that. She calls me her sex toy. Not because of my prowess, per se, but rather because even when I am making love to her, and she is on the bottom, she is in complete control. I have two settings, stop and go. As long as she is in contact with my nipples, I'm to make love to her. She controls the tempo verbally. Sometimes she makes me go REALLY slowly, and she did that to start. She played with each nipple as I thrust slowly in and out of her. I love watching her face, the honest expressions of pleasure she is feeling. She will always make this one face when she turns me to the "off" position by taking her hands of my nipples. It is what some would call an "evil smile." It's not evil, though, but certainly she is reveling in her power.
When she takes them off, I must thrust all the way into her and wait. She might talk to me briefly, or just enjoy the moment, enjoy the control. Then she smiles a different, more compassionate smile and turns me back on.
After just a little while, she had me stop, left me kneeling in the bed, and got up. She shooed the dog from the room, closed the door, and took her shorts off. She slid back into bed, giving me a sweet caress on the shoulder as she did so, and then settled herself comfortably. With a little flick of her wrist, her fingers were on my nipples again, working them and playing with my piercing. I entered her carefully and then we made love, on then off, on then off, slow then fast then steady. One time I was close, and she stopped. I'm never sure if that's intentional. Regardless, she had me start again, and before long I was on the edge. I let her know and she told me to come. It is, apparently, one of her favorite things, which is lucky for me. I came, and the smile of satisfaction on her face afterwards is something I cherish.
She likes me to stay inside her for as long as I can, so I did, and this time, she started playing with my nipples again. Instinctively, I started to thrust. She made a happy noise and stopped playing with them. I stopped. She started again, and I started. Somehow, her ministrations kept me aroused after I came, which is rare for me. That only went on for a few minutes before she stopped and gave me a little pat on the chest. I sighed and carefully collapsed on her, overcome by the sensations.
After we make love now, we always spend some time together which is beautiful. It wasn't long, because she needed to go soon. The morning routine awaited, but I love that time afterwards where we both reflect with wonder on how magical our lovemaking has become. Years, or even decades, seem to have fallen away from our bodies in bed. It is a wonderful gift. And it is certainly a damn sight better than getting my ass whipped into oblivion to start the day!