Yesterday, my fellow mistress invited me and another pair of mistresses to her pet's birthday celebration. Four hours of festivities, champagne and sweets. K, one of my very favorite friends, and I arrived just in time for a rousing round of "happy birthday", complete with dim lights and dripping candles. Towards the end, it was a little difficult to hear the words over the exclamations of our "cake", but we managed to finish the sing along and toasted the occasion with delicious, fizzy glasses of champagne. The birthday boy, nearly covered with cooling wax, was (un)fortunately tied to the table hand and foot, but he was able to take part in the toast due to the thoughtful ministrations of Mistress C, who lovingly poured his portion from her own mouth into his.
What could be more fun than toasting my lovely fellows over the squirming, moaning body of the birthday boy himself?
The real dessert, however, was most decidedly not for silverware, and as his mistress spelled out the salutation on our delicious toes, we took turns applying and tasting our decorations. Here, a thigh, there, a breast, it was all fair game. As he blew out the candles and tasted his birthday words on our toes, she and I swirled the last of it off of each other with our thorough tongues. The inimitable taste of hot skin, mingled with the sweetness of frosting, lingers on my tongue today.
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