It was almost 9.30am when my live-in slave knocked on my door. He was right on time. “Mhm,” I mumbled instead of a ‘yes, come in.’ He knows that mumble well. As every morning, he was coming in to wake me up and bring me my coffee (Americano, black), my breakfast smoothie (all sorts of fruit + spirulina, the alleged algal superfood), my vitamins, and a fresh glass of water. He’s always completely naked around the house except for his thick black leather collar locked around his neck. He’s a pretty boy, 7 years my junior, tall, skinny, half-Asian, with an incredibly soft, hairless skin. I love looking at him move about the room.

We love Tom Byron. We understand why he’s not making movies all the time these days, and we respect him for whatever he wants to do, but damn do we miss that guy. So imagine our joy when we saw a familiar figure smashed beneath the beautiful butt of Julie Cash! It’s Tom, lover of ass, licker of anus, worm beneath the high heels of hotties!

This Saturday, slave-boy and I went to our first play party in a long time. Yesterday I wrote about the setup and the beginning of the party here. In this post, I let slave-boy tell you about the actual scene that Mistress G, he, and I did that night – apparently for the viewing pleasure of the entire party.

Though many choose to call it facesitting for the directness of the term, we’ve always preferred the elegance of queening and the royal connotations it brings with it. There’s power in the word, as if a trump card is being laid on top of your deck, and even the lowly face becomes a throne for a special someone.

Having spun really hard for 2 and a half hours on only 5 hours of sleep – I was exhausted. By the time my slave came in to give me my daily lotioning and massage, I could barely lift a hand. But I was sort of horny from reading and writing about sex all day. I wasn’t gonna do much of the work, but I had to get an orgasm (or two).

Who doesn’t enjoy a nice massage? A face massage, even. Or maybe just a tongue massage. By a pussy. While trapped between two planks of wood with only a face-hole. Oh, we should all be so lucky!

Somewhere in between dreams I heard the shower start.

Opening my eyes some time later I found myself bathed in gray light coming through white linen curtains. Then I watched the naked legs of a woman in a towel walking back and forth in front of me as I laid on my side trying to decide whether I was awake or not. Occasionally those legs were followed by a nervous black cat who batted at the towel.

And sometimes the fellow they belong to really, really likes it… We’re glad those sorts of fellows exist. We’re both impressed and aroused to see such a detailed kinbaku knot bondage setup — so bright and colorful, too! Almost as bright as the cock and balls getting the shit whipped out of them by this total boss femme.

When I released him from the restraints, he was framed in the center of the bed by tangles of silky black rope, beautiful against the white linens. He stretched and flexed his wrists for a moment, arranged some pillows behind him, and leaned back with his head on his hands. He smiled slightly, looking relaxed and dreamy.

You never know what you’ll find in a hall of locked doors — behind one could be the most magnificent garden; behind another could be a room of treats and tinctures that warp you all the way from miniscule to brobdingnagian in size. Or, you could find a massively stacked babe with a dude connected to her pussy via powerful suctioning gas mask. It’s a real magical place, that hall.

Twisting his face hard in her hand, she pushes her index finger and thumb into the hollows of his cheeks, squishing his lips into a mangled “O.” With her other hand, she shoves a finger into his mouth and and he yields immediately, unclenching his jaw to allow the intrusion. She withdraws her finger slowly and pushes again, deeper. She adds a second finger, then a third, and he chokes to accommodate the fourth as she shoves her hand as far into his mouth as it will go. Still gripping his face, she fucks his mouth with her hand and watches his eyes grow wide.

When India Summers makes such a pronouncement, though, it becomes less of an insult and more of a come-on. Because she’s got one of the sweetest asses we’ve seen, and we’re sure it tastes just as lovely as it looks. Who could refuse such an invitation? It’s the party of the year!

The weekend is upon us, and we’re so exuberant about it we don’t know what to do but bind the shit out of Madison Young and have her lick our elated li’l pussy. That’s a totally normal way to express supreme excitement, right? Well, Madison Young doesn’t seem to mind… and that’s all that matters to us.

So this dude’s wife wants to fuck him and feed him jizz for dinner. She also invites a girlfriend along to help out and keep an eye on things. And this is supposed to be punishment? None of that really sounds all too bad to us, but maybe this guy has an aversion to stacked MILF-babes. Cum-eating seems like a fair trade — gotta pay to play!

Revenge and retribution are tricky when the person you’re exacting justice from seems to like it, which is why a man named Jimmy Broadway keeps getting himself into situations where he’ll be punished by women with strap-ons.

Oh, husbands. Always yakkin’ about something. If you harried wives have had enough, counseling is always an option. How about giving the Jerky Girls a call? Their methods may be a bit avant garde, but it’s the end result that matters. Through the ameliorating power of a crackerjack HJ, Mr. Chatty Cathy is now rendered speechless.

This election is going to be close, and we are dismayed when both sides seem to resort to less-than-ethical tactics. But at least naked liberal spitfire Aiden Starr gives something back to Republican boss Eric Jover when she hypnotizes him into voting for the other team.

His mouth was too much and not enough and I couldn’t decide whether to push him away or pull him closer. I wish I could say I was satisfied, but I wasn’t. I always seem to need more or less or different.

Lying head down, naked, my face in the mattress, I can’t see her expression, can’t read her thoughts, but I know she’s more soft than angry by the padding of her feet, light on hardwood. More soft than angry, but more driven than distracted, as her movements are deliberate and focused tonight. She’s been quiet though, through dinner, through the drive, and the not-knowing of her mood makes me nervous. She wouldn’t look anyone but me in the eye, not looking away, not looking down, but barely acknowledging anyone else.

After a few short moments and four long strides, J was inside the room. I immediately regretted standing so close to the doorway. Even with four and a half inch heels, J still towers over me. Although he was naked and I was clothed, I felt oddly exposed.