Serving My Mistress Wife

Heaven is having a beautiful, adoring wife, who is also a cruel mistress. The intensity of our love and affection seems sometimes almost to overwhelm me. Lying naked in bed next to my lover creates a special happiness. At times like that, it can be unnecessary to speak We can both bask in the warmth of our mutual love. On such occasions, my gentle lover sometimes likes to spring a surprise on me and turns in no time at all from the gentlest of lovers into my wicked, demanding Mistress.

At the same time as shocking me, it thrills me, causing a burst of adrenaline to flow through my whole body. My darling knows it has that effect.

"Slave, I intend do nothing this morning," she commanded, " and you will do everything for me, obeying my commands without hesitation, grateful for the honour of serving the woman you adore."

"Oh, yes, Mistress, yes. I want so much to serve and adore you!"

"This morning I may push you further than ever. Are you ready to suffer for me?"

"Most certainly, Mistress."

"We shall see. To start with you will kneel, naked as you are, at the foot of the bed and worship my cunt. I demand at least ten orgasms and that's just this morning. Is that understood?"

"Most certainly, Mistress."

She threw off the bedclothes and opened her legs, exposing the beauty of her perfect cunt. Inverting two fingers in a vee, she opened her cunt lips to my adoring gaze. A droplet of her sweet cunt juice trickled between those soft lips.

"Lick, slave!", she commanded, grabbing my hair and pulling me tightly into her. "Lick and don't you dare stop licking, until I give you permission."

What a perfect way to show her how much I adore her.

After three beautiful orgasms, during which my Mistress freely shouted her joy , my Mistress demanded,

"Let me see your cock, slave."

I stood for inspection. The joy of licking my thrilling Mistress had made my cock extremely hard.

My Mistress handled it in such a way that it was clearly her possession. I love that sensation. She squeezed the head, causing a few droplets of precum to ooze out. She collected the precum with finger and hum and licked it with her tongue.

"Kiss me, slave." she commanded. We kissed and I tasted the bitter sweetness of my own precum.

She tugged at my ball sac and enquired,

"Are these balls full of spunk for me, slave?", she asked in her huskily erotic voice.

"I think so, Mistress," I replied. "It is a long time since I had an orgasm."

"Yes, it is and it is not going to be yet. However I want your cock in me now and I want you cock to make me cum. But you are not allowed to cum. Do you understand? Can I trust you?"

"You can trust me, Mistress."

"In that case I order you to fuck me. But no orgasm for you. Is that clear?"

"That is clear, I promise, Mistress."

My gorgeous Mistress was at her most demanding and the more she wanted, the more I loved it and the more I loved her.

"I need to cum in every possible way!", she declared. With my tongue I made love to her in her armpits, on her nipples and in her cute little rosebud, each time with beautiful, orgasmic results. Eventually, even she wanted a rest.

"You may prepare me bacon, eggs, toast and coffee, slave, while I make a couple of phone calls."

"Certainly, Mistress. Should I wear my little satin apron" I enquired.

"Do you need to ask, slave?"

"No, Mistress."

While I lovingly prepared my Mistress's breakfast, I wondered if she would allow me to eat at the table with her? She sometimes permits that, but I knew it would be wrong for me to presume. It was just as well that I did not presume, since she was still in full Mistress mode, when she came to the table. During her breakfast, she had me eat a bowl of cereal from a bowl on the floor and I was not allowed to use my hands. She giggled wickedly, watching her loving slave humble himself in this act of devotion and surrender, as he slurped helplessly into the soggy bowl.

I managed somehow to finish the cornflakes and looked up at my Mistress, sitting there in her gold satin robe.

""What a sight your face is, slave," she laughed, "You're such a messy eater. Get outside on the patio immediately and lie down on your back, while I wash your face."

Raising her robe and with legs apart. She stood over my upturned face and let flow her first pungent piss of the morning. It successfully washed the milk and cornflakes from my chin and cheeks.

After breakfast there were her work shirts to be ironed as well as the three beautiful pairs of panties she had had me lick clean the day before. While I was carefully ironing the crisp, white shirts, she entered the utility room with a brimming pint mug.

"I thought you might find that thirsty work, slave. So, I have brought you this." She handed me the warm glass, which she had so recently filled.

"That is very considerate of you, Mistress. I humbly thank you," I replied.

"And so you should, slave," she said with a wicked laugh and the beautiful smile that makes me go weak at the knees.

"Don't gulp my piss down, slave. Savour it with small sips, showing gratitude for my precious gift to you. Get on with your work. I shall be going back to bed. Report to me there, when you have finished the ironing. I have other jobs for you to do."

"Yes, Mistress."

It may sound crazy, but I adore her more and more every day.

While some might dismiss me as a knicker-fetish pervert, it matters not, since my Mistress scorns such prejudice. I adore her pretty panties, since they are what encase and guard the object I revere - her beautiful, mystical cunt. Furthermore they become imbued with her unique, adorable aroma, which drives me wild with desire for her. Therefore, when I am doing my Mistress's ironing, I save her panties until last

As I was finishing my ironing, saving until last these precious, delicate satin garments, which I pressed with infinite devotion, the heavens opened, the lashing rain causing the cats to cower in alarm

When I reported to my Mistress that I had completed the ironing, she was lying propped up in bed, looking irresistibly gorgeous. Secretly I was hoping she would demand another licking but it was not to be.

"The outside of the sun room windows are in need of a clean, slave," she said with a hint of a wicked smile. "This rain should make the job easier for you, shouldn't it?"

"Yes, Mistress."

" Place a footstool in front of the armchair and prepare a cup of tea for me to drink while I watch you slaving for me."

The rain continued to pour down. A vicious wind helped to make me a pathetic spectacle, as I attempted to do a good job, despite the adverse circumstances. I had just about finished the two windows that back on to the view of the lough, when my Mistress stood up and walked away. After a couple of minutes, she returned with some towels, which she proceeded to lay on the floor. I reckoned she had taken mercy on me at last and was going to allow me back into the warmth of the sun room. She opened the door and handed me one of the towels.

"Dry your head and shoulders, and don't drip anywhere!", she commanded.

When I had done that, she ordered me to kneel before her. Raising her gown, she parted her thighs.

"Watching you there suffering for me, has really turned me on, slave. Lick me until I cum!."

Eagerly I obeyed one of my favourite commands. She must indeed have been excited by what she saw, because her cunt was deliciously wet and, after only a few minutes, he was moaning in ecstasy at what must have been at least the fifteenth orgasm of the day.

When she had regained her composure, she lay back in the armchair.

"Very nice, slave" she cooed, "Now get back out there and finish the job."

"O course, Mistress. At once."

The state of the weather must surely be proof of how much I adore my wonderful Mistress. I was finally allowed in from my window-cleaning. That may have been due to the fact that the rain had stopped, making the show less entertaining for my Mistress. I had to dry myself completely and then my Mistress addressed her shivering slave.

"I have to confess that I am a little disappointed in you today, slave."

"I apologise, Mistress. What have I done to cause you displeasure?"

"It is not what you have done; it is more a matter of what you have not done. You have not given me reason to find fault with you."

"Thank you, Mistress. I am glad I have pleased you"

"However, slave, that means you have deprived me of an opportunity to whip you."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"However, I know you would not wish to deprive your Mistress of one of her greatest pleasures, would you, now?"

"No, Mistress," replied her hapless slave..

"But out of kindness," she continued " I am going to allow you to choose your own sentence. On the dining table there, you will see five scraps of folded paper. On them i have written the numbers ten, twenty, thirty, forty and fifty. The slip you choose will determine the number of strokes you will receive. So, you see, it will be your choice. That's fair, isn't it?"

"Very fair, Mistress." I replied feebly.

"So, go and choose your sentence."

I unfolded one of the scraps of paper.

"It reads 'Ten Strokes', Mistress."

She pouted. "I don't like that one, slave. Unfold another one."

I repeated the process.

"This one says, 'Forty Strokes, Mistress."

"That's more like it" said my Mistress with a grin. "Now, since I am in a generous mood, I ma going to allow you to choose whether you will be whipped before I allow you an orgasm or afterwards."

"Before, please, Mistress," I replied without hesitation.

"In that case, fetch me my favourite cane. You know which one that is, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Hurry up, then."

I collected the cane from her bedroom, knelt before my Mistress and with head bowed, presented it to her on outstretched palms.

"Kiss it, slave and say to it, 'May you bring my Mistress pleasure "

I kissed the fearfully bendy instrument of punishment and repeated the words, "May you bring my Mistress pleasure."

"Excellent, slave. Now place two pillows on the centre of the bed. Make sure you allow me space to draw the cane fully back before each stroke.. You know the way I like best. Lie on the bed with your buttocks in the air and await your Mistress."

Two hours later, when my darling and I were finally in the most gentle, loving embrace in our bed, it was hard to believe that only a couple of hours earlier, she had been my merciless Mistress. But that is part of the reason why our love is so complete, so endlessly thrilling.

The whipping was skilfully devised to have its maximum impact. I had already been lying on the bed in that humiliating position for at least five minutes, when my Mistress finally strolled into the room. She was talking to someone on her mobile phone. She ignored me.

"Call me back, when it's convenient," she said to the caller, " Talk soon. Bye!"

Finally, she addressed me. "No, you're too far down the bed. I told you to leave room for me to take a full swing.. Shift up a foot or two."

I moved. A practice swing swished through the air, scaring me not a little.

"That's better. Thighs further apart. I like to see your balls dangling there in apprehension. Now, start counting."

The first two strokes bit in to my buttocks. I yelped, "One, two."

Her phone rang. She answered it. I think it was someone from work. She put the cane down and sat down on the edge of the bed. She chattered away for several minutes before finally ringing off, saying finally

"I must go. There is someone waiting for me."

Without any reference to the call, she then addressed me.

"Now, slave, where had we got to?"

"I had received two strokes, Mistress," whimpered her victim.

"Only two? We might as well start at the beginning again."

"Whatever you say, Mistress."

"Oh yes, slave. Most definitely, WHATEVER I say!"

She made sure the whipping was delivered at random intervals. I never knew when the next stroke was going to land, which added enormously to the tension of the situation. While my tremulous voice counted the strokes, she issued occasional commands.

"Thighs further apart." " Stay still. Don't wriggle around!" "Don't clench your buttocks, they mark better, when they are relaxed." "My god, I'm loving it. I think I could cum whipping you like this!"

The blows went on relentlessly, as I sobbed out the numbers.

I think it was at the thirty eighth stroke that my Mistress cried out.

"My god, I've broken the skin! You can't expect me to stop now, slave. Keep counting!"

She went on until the full fifty, when she threw down the cane and I felt her hand gently stroke my tender right buttock. She moved her hand round to my face and enquired,

"What can you taste, slave?"

"Blood, Mistress."

"Yes, slave. Blood. I have achieved an ambition. Now I am in urgent need of the best licking you have ever given me."

She threw herself down on the bed and parted her thighs. There was love-juice trickling down them.

The licking led to the most beautiful fucking ever, which culminated in me cleaning my own spunk out of my darling's adorable cunt.

Heaven And Hell!