Rip, Ripple, Rippling

That comment yesterday morning, the one about our Friday night activities being “F****ing hot, came, of course, from the Western Correspondent.

And when Mistress read it, as I showered her damp and musky folds with attention from my tongue, it seemed to make her all the more wanton and responsive to my ministrations.

M’s reaction to our little tale had rippled back to Mick and Molly back here in the heartland.

And she was pleased to discover, as her hands groped for my cock when her first orgasm of the day was in the books, that her sexual energy had rippled along to me.

“Oh… already prepared to fuck me, Slave…. That’s what I like.”

Yes, my “quick start” mechanism was in good working order .


After, we took a walk on the Lake Michigan beach, all bleak and blustery, the sun just rising over the bluff. Then it was breakfast with our friends before heading to my alma mater for a football extravaganza

These are good friends that we see only a few times each year. But because they know us not from the world of work, family and kids in River City, somehow we seem more open with them, and them with us. We trade candid stories about kids, ex’s, or our life before we went “public”, much more easily than with our family and friends at home.

But how far do you go?

At some point over the weekend, I think I referred to my beloved Molly as “Mistress”. It’s hard not to let it slip. But it seemed to fly past them.

And when we mentioned a trip next weekend to a party a few hours south of River City, it’s hard not to share the backstory: the blog, our new blogland friends, etc.

But I stepped back from that ledge. Not quite ready for the plunge.

Later as we walked around campus, Mistress was checking her I-phone.

“M’s watching Colbert and Stewart, Slave. Their big rally in D.C. He says it’s hilarious.”

Had Molly just mentioned M to our friends?

I whispered to her, “Uhhh…. Does Jane know about M?”

Maybe Molly had disclosed what I had contemplated, during some girl talk that I had missed?

“ Oh… I just told her that he was our friend.”

After the game, our amigos from out West headed back to their hometown on their team’s plane. And as we walked back to our car, Mistress shared a few more details about her texts from M during the day.

“He says that our blog really made him hot this morning, Slave…. He read it and then went upstairs and had ‘epic’ sex with B….”

“Glad we could spread the lust, Mistress.”

.

Hearing that our activities and words can light fires so far away is quite a rush for this old Irishman.

And on the drive back to the Lake, Mistress and M got to talk a while. It had been two days, and it was clear M missed Molly. And she had missed him.

Over dinner, we were contemplating what ripples we might encounter next weekend, when Aisha and Sir D join us for dinner and we attend their local play party.

“I ordered those special hose, Slave. The one’s with the strategic opening, so you can have easy access.”

“Well, theoretically, not just me, Mistress.”

“True, Slave…. So true.”

Mistress eyebrows lift suggestively, that little teasing smile hinting at the possibilities.

“I think all that talk about you taking on other cocks must have gotten M going, Mistress…..”

“Yes, Slave…. But sometimes I think you just try to tease him.”

“Who me? …. Maybe he was imagining it was his cock…. That I was watching you suck him off, Mistress.”

Mistress’s eyes lost focus a bit….I could sense that little squirm across the table as she fingered her wine glass. Apparently that scenario had struck a nerve.

“But what about you Slave…. What should you wear to the party?”

“The cage?”

“Well, of course. But wouldn’t that get uncomfortable?”

“I suspect it might.”

“Well I could always have the key with me, in case of an emergency.”

“How about a collar, Mistress?”

“Good idea…. But would I get a leash?

“If you would like.”

“I think I would, Slave.”

“Should I bring along those red leather cuffs, in case you want to lock them on my wrists?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Slave. But wouldn’t all this be a little humiliating for you?”

“Not if there are other folks dressed in similar fashion, Mistress. It would sort of be like a Halloween Party, wouldn’t it? And I would just be showing m devotion to you.”

All this talk led Mistress and Slave to skip dessert.

At least the sugary kind.

With our friends gone, and the little apartment we had rented for the weekend now all to ourselves, we retreated to bed, and some “Epic” activity of our own.

Frenzy

I collected Mistress in front of her office building yesterday, a little past noon.  She had just emerged from one long car ride, from Music City, and we were embarking on another: up to Lake Michigan to meet two of our “out west” friends for a little college football weekend action.

Standing on the side walk, as I pulled up, Mistress was a sight for sore and needy eyes: stylish fitted black pants, a black top showing off her buff arms. That long dark flowing hair.

Later in the car, we talked:

“After you’ve been away, and I see you for the first time, I’m always reminded how lucky I am to have you, Mistress. Or to be had.  You are ravishing, you know….”

“Mmmmm. Music to my ears, Slave.”

Mistress was tired from her earlier drive, and napped some as I steered us past the cornfields and back to my old alma mater where we collected our friends.  Then onto the Lake Michigan shore where we had reserved a charming two bedroom apartment in an old Victorian Inn.

Quarters were close, and we had our friends to catch up with, so Mistress had to settle for some quick worship in our bedroom as our guests changed. 

She sprawled back on the bed, caught up with Friday’s blog and your kind comments, and spread her legs for me.

But before I caved to the impulse of falling to my knees and tasting the juices Ihad been denied for TWO WHOLE DAYS …. I had to snap a photo.

“I am sure M will want to know you got here safe and sound, Mistress.”

“Go for it Slave.”

After I had finished my brief but productive feast, the chime on my phone went off. That was quick.

“You’re killing me here, Mick.”

Cruel, I know.

Then there were drinks, chat, dinner. And it was late by the time we got home to break Slave’s fast.

We said quick good nights and adjourned to our chambers. We got naked very fast.

And  there was a veritable frenzy of fucking.

At some point, as I was slowly sliding in and out of her, savoring the taste of her neck, Mistress asked the question that she is allowed to ask….

“What are you thinking, Slave?”

It’s in the contract. Although tempted, I can’t blow it off. So I was honest.

“It was about you and the first M ----(her ‘starter dom’, that guy from last winter / spring before she and the current M became an ‘item’) --- I was thinking about you stripping for him. Allowing him to inspect you, play with your cunt.  Was that a turn on Mistress?”

“Oh…. Well yes, it was Slave…. Pretty hot….”

We talked a little more – her being fed his cock for the first time, being fucked by him with her legs over his shoulders -and Mistress began working herself into a frenzy….

“Can I get on top, Slave….I guess I really don’t have to ask, do I?”

Of course she doesn’t.

Now she was up there, riding my cock, hard, grinding against me, and muttering some dark and enticing fantasies.

We were onto the upcoming play party. And what might happen.

“How would it be to watch me suck off another man, Slave…. Do you think you could handle it?”

“Ummm…. I could, Mistress….”

“Wouldn’t it be humiliating to see your wife, on her knees, submitting that way to another man … and enjoying it?’

“Yes…. But also very very hot, Mistress….”

“You know we’re going to do that someday, don’t you, Slave?”

Mistress was gasping now, getting near her point of no return.

“I suspect so Mistress.”

“I want to have you watch me, seeing you play with your own cock while I take another man on…..”

Then Mistress was crashing hard over the edge, moaning, collapsing onto me, rolling off … breathless.”

“Fuck me slave…. And tell me about it.”

I did my duty. Con mucho gusto.

It’s very good to have her back.

Mick and the Western Corespondent Commiserate in Mistress's Absence

After posting yesterday’s entry I called Mistress down in her hotel in Music City. Waking her in the morning is one of her Slave’s duties and I was happy to do the honors.

Sounds like Mistress has a good evening, ending with some country music at a local honky tonk with her friends.

We signed off after a brief chat. Mistress was going back to sleep. I was heading to the shower, and then to work.

But my instructions were clear.

“Now, Slave…. Don’t forget the cage.”

“Of course, Mistress….”

And to prove my obedience, I snapped this photo of me on my laptop cam, all secured away, then emailed it to Mistress.

(Sorry for the shadows, but it was still pretty dark here in River City when Mick suited up this morning.)

Mistress was a busy lady most of the day. But I did hear from M, our Western Correspondent, who seemed to be missing Mistress almost as much as me. Here’s his email, commenting on Mistress’s letting me out of my cage Wednesday night before bedtime:

“Hey Mick,


Molly said she would let you out if you want.. we are both softies.

Don't want to fuck with you guys’ program

always worry about that ... but

I will if you want me to..

let me know for next switch day..

will get that little slut off big time the next day!!!

I like you both a lot.

Molly and I had very hot phone sex today,, was very hot!!!

She makes me very HOT!!!

I know that turns you on and that is... so cool!!

It is hot to think about your wife getting fucked by another guy!

B has been spinning hot talk about a threesome with some hot young stud fucking her

I understand you are alone tonight.

Molly loves you so much... she tells me that all the time.

Hope you are not worried ( But she doesn’t ever want you to fuck anyone else again. I’ve told her to lock u up and make sure!!!) Also told her I am sure you won’t.. your blog is a love story.

funny, I was worried about us

6 months ago I was worried about u when she first went with her “starter Dom” (the other M).

But you were a stud, and not worried.

Was fucking hot today though!!!

Will fuck the shit out of her someday

will be fucking hot.

your good friend and blog fan,

M”


What to say? Reading over M’s heartfelt (0r should I say ‘cockfelt’) correspondence does make me realize that our odd little three way relationship is not exactly conventional.

But, as you can tell from M’s effort to reach out to the other guy in the triangle, our Western Correspondent is a stand-up guy who, despite his obviously prurient interest in Molly, also is considerate enough to keep her Slave happy and secure.

Particularly when I am back here in River City, pining for Mistress.

So when I saw this email on my office computer Thursday morning, I had to return the complement:



“Thanks M.... She did spring me from the cage last night. And believe it or not I do appreciate what you have added to Molly's life.

Keep up the good work.

And I hope you do get to fuck her some day. I know she is desperate for it,,,, though she may try not to let it show. You are a very disciplined Dom to resist her charms as long as you have.

Mick”

It’s true. Mistress clearly enjoys the extra attention that our Western correspondent regales on her. It makes her smile. Makes her squirm. Inspires her to do all sorts of wanton things.

And what makes Mistress happy makes me happy too.




When I got home from work Thursday afternoon, Mistress cut me another break.

“Ahhh…. Can I ask a favor….I’d like to go for a bike ride, but the cage….can I take it off now, Mistress.”

Believe me, you don’t want to hop onto that narrow bike saddle with all that metal surrounding your cock and balls.

“Yes, Slave…. You may take it off now….but remember, no touching. I want you desperate for me tomorrow when I get home.”

“That won’t be a problem, Mistress.”

Well the desperation part won’t be a problem. That’s for sure.

HNT / Better Safe than Sorry

So Mistress is off for two nights. 

She allowed me to fuck her yesterday morning, my cock and balls gripped by the hard ring that makes the base of my cage.  It makes it a tad harder: harder for her; harder to come. But when I do ---- yow. 

Highly recommended, with or without the confinement that comes when the party os over.

And that came for me at around 7:25 am yesterday. Mistress hid the key away.  And it was not at all clear when I would see it again.

“So here’s the deal, Slave.   You’ll be in the cage at my discretion while I am gone. I may consider letting you take it off tonight. We’ll see.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I dropped her off at work, helped her unload her bag. Kissed her goodbye. We embraced and she gave me a discrete little “cage pat” out on the sidewalk in front of her aging office tower. 

“I’ll miss you, Mistress.”

“Me too, Slave.”

I went about my business of the day: balancing caseload with some political activities gearing up for Mid-term Madness come Tuesday.

Meanwhile Mistress and her 3 colleagues were on the road, heading right through the heart of  head stomping country.

We exchanged a few pithy text messages through the day.

“Stopping at Cracker Barrel.  Fun.”

Mistress is not a Cracker Barrel type. Though she has been known to gnaw on some beef jerky when on a road trip.

“Yum.  Just watch out for the guys in jack boots, Mistress. “

I was doing my best not to focus on what could be a potentially long term cock incarceration.

I also used Mistress absence to perform an annoying filial obligation: taking my aging cranky Mom to dinner with the surly teens. Amazingly, they were all on their best behavior and Mom had take home calzone to show her aging neighbors at the condo when I delivered her home.

I did get a chance to talk briefly with Mistress before picking up my mother.

“Busy here, Slave…. Just got to the hotel…. Will go to my room and rest a bit before dinner…. And I know the Western Correspondent is getting a little antsy to talk to me.”

Ahh.  The guy who wanted to make sure Mistress packed her Hitachi.

“Make sure you fit him in Mistress …. I am sure you could use a little ‘therapy’ after that long drive.”

“I will try, Slave….”

(M and I actually traded a few emails during the day. I could tell he was missing Mistress almost as much as I was.

“Try to keep her entertained, M …. Otherwise she might end up in bed with some

C & W crooner tonight….”

“Good point, Mick…..”)

After dropping off my mother, I was able to reconnect with Mistress before she headed to dinner with her colleagues in Music City.

“So did you track down M…. I know he was concerned about your well being, Mistress”.

“We did connect, Slave.”

“And did you get to use your power tool?”

“Yes, Slave. It was pretty funny. He was driving around and… you know.”

I imagined Mistress splayed on her hotel bed, her legs spread wide,  applying her powerful assistant at M’s directions. But let’s hope he didn’t join in the fun while driving. At least unless he has a hands free telephone.

And of course I was reminded of my cage when my mind drifted to Mistress coming at his command.

Damn.

“How many, Mistress.?”

“Only two slave….”

Mistress was off to dinner. I was home, catching up on old Jon Stewart episodes, paging through the Times. Avoiding incendiary sex blogs.

At around 11 pm, Mistress called.

“Still out to dinner Slave…. And next we are going to some club with a group of folks….How’s the cage?”

“Tight, Mistress….”

“Well…. I will let you out for sleeping, as long as you agree to ut it back on in the morning.  Word of honor?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

“But remember…. No touching….”

“Of course, Mistress.”

She is a tender hearted, Mistress.

And even when I woke up last night with a raging hard-on, well, I followed the rule…. Thought of mortgage payments and stock portfolios… all the things that can divert one’s brain from the desire to touch.

I figure if the sub-sisters can do it, so can I.

But seeing the photo I took the other day in my office, remembering the silky touch of Mistress’s succulent folds against my tongue…. The intoxicating aroma of her flowing juices, her addictive taste….

Maybe I should go put my cage back on now, even before I give her my morning wake up call.

Better safe than sorry.

Caged Slave While Mistress Is on a Road Trip

So I am sitting down here in our kitchen, coffee made, Mistress snoozing upstairs in our Chambers, trying to figure the best way to catch up with all of you after two blog days devoted to Mistress’s sad Sunday “ordeal”.

The hard steel ring of my cock cage is already gripping the base of my balls and cock …. This is the day Mistress is heading off to her little work trip to the Capitol of Country Music, and I am to be caged in her absence.

“Trust but verify” is her watchword for her Slave, and who could blame her. Who knew she had a Ronald Reagan streak in her. “Spank one for the Gipper?”

So, catching up….

There was early Monday morning sex here at the Collins House of Corrections. Mistress still had some excess sexual energy to discharge, and I was happy to be of assistance before we headed for work.

And Monday was a long cage day for me too: We drove separately and our regular readers know what that means. Extra security required. And I was out later than normal: teaching a class at a local graduate school, a cameo appearance that had me dusting off some of my performance art skills. Well, the performance art that does not involve kneeling and lapping.

As I strode about the room, trying to engage and amuse while relying on the crutch of my power point presentation, I wondered what my earnest audience would think if they knew their confident, cocky speaker was sporting a stainless steel cock cage.

I got home to Mistress at about 8:30 pm, worshipped her succulent folds, then crashed. The performance art thing is fun, but takes some energy out of the old guy.

Tuesday morning was an early rise for us. Mistress had one of those annoying breakfast meetings that need to be scheduled at inhuman hours here in River City so as to cultivate the macho: “gotta’ be at my desk bright and early culture”, even though most of them are probably surfing sex blogs and facebook at those desks for a good chunk of their days.

So she had the benefit of my tongue and lips as she read my report to Warden M, but Slave’s twitching cock was placed on hold.



“Oh well, Slave…. You had your chance last night…. You will just have to wait until this evening.”

Can you blame her after Sunday’s treatment.

(By the way, make sure you check out the Governor’s comment on my report at the end of yesterday’s blog. Maybe his writer’s block is lifting?).

Fortunately, Mistress did have time to stop by after her early meeting yesterday for some early morning worship (round two for her that morning if you are keeping track).

She had broken her fashion mold, skipping the black for some sexily tactile brown suede boots, with deep brown tights. And you know both drove me crazy, particularly since it had been a “cruel” 24 hours now since Slave had his chance to come.

The photo above shows her as she begins the process of shedding her boot and one leg of her tights for a quicky worship opportunity. And she left me twitching in my office, the taste of her delicious juices smeared across my enraptured mouth.

Damn. Why was I so tired Monday evening.

On the drive home, Mistress talked about our protocol for her trip.

“Of course, you will be caged, Slave. I will hide the key where I can have you find it in an emergency… and, if you’re lucky, maybe there will be some video chat sex of there is time.”

“And what about M, Mistress? Do you have some plans with him?”

“I know he wants to have me go to my room in the afternoons for some of our “dates”…. But I just don’t know what the schedule will be like….”

“And I am sure you will be keeping your eye out for stud-ly country music stars too, Mistress….”

“We’ll see about that, Slave.”

Mistress does have carte blanche on such things. It’s always interesting to see who might flirt with her.

Some crazy storms and wind had cleared by the time we made it home. So there was a brisk bike ride in the chilly air that the passing front brought us.

Nice recharge opportunity for both of us.

And after the surly teens were fed, we had some catching up to do in our Chambers.

“Why don’t you insert your device, Slave.”

I did, and Mistress made sure that my cock had her full attention for the next 30 minutes or so….

“That seemed like a big one, Slave”, she commented, after I had exploded into her in the final throws of our tangle.

“Yes, it was Mistress.”

“One thing you need to do Slave, before you go to sleep….”

“and that would be?”

“Go pack the Hitachi in my bag, Slave…. Don’t want to forget that.”

No. I am sure she and M would be disappointed if her power tool got left behind.

The Warden Reports on the Imposition of his Prisoner's Sentence

From the Desk of  Warden Mick Collins, Collinsville House of Corrections

To: Governor M (AKA our Western Correspondent)

Re: Imposition of Sentence Imposed on Prisoner Molly Collins.

Governor, first I wanted to confirm receipt of your correspondence sentencing Ms. Molly Collins, our prisoner here at the Collinsville House of Corrections to a term of no less than 24 hours of orgasm denial, coupled with various forms of  tickling, teasing and torment (TTT).

We pride ourselves in our TTT treatment here and went to work bright and early on Sunday morning, as reported in  my earlier memorandum  to you.

As the day progressed it seemed that Ms. Collins was responding well to the prescribed sentence: there was the tell tale labored breathing, squirming, whining and cajoling that comes with the knowledge that her primitive longings would not fulfilled anytime soon. And the scent of her, Governor!  It was an olfactory outrage.

For the record, I wanted to confirm receipt later that day of the following correspondence, which appeared to be from your office, though I must say that I wondered whether the little minx had somehow hired a hacker to hijack your email account:

“Of course as the governor, so to speak,  I may entertain a afternoon plea for clemency,, plea being the operative word, and of course I would never override the warden if he thought the full sentence should be served...  will await a plea or instructions here in the governor’s  mansion.”

In any event, I suspect that Prisoner Collins, if she was not the source of this message, somehow obtained access to it and saw her opening.

I was in the common room, watching a Sunday afternoon football game with other members of our staff and several prisoners when Ms. Collins asked if she might return to her cell for a rest period. Apparently the persistent touch of my fingers sliding through those sopping and aromatic folds had become a little too frustrating for her to handle. And since she had endured this treatment for an hour or so, I figured it would be consistent with our TTT protocol to give her about a 45 minute break for her to consider the folly of her ways before resuming alternative “therapy.”

After the game ended with yet another ignominious defeat for the local team, I went up to Ms. Collins cell to take out a little of my own frustrations on the needy little slut. I figured she could endure some special handling at the end of my cock for a while, before the dinner hour here at the House of Corrections.

When I entered the room, I found to my surprise that the squirmy little slut was on the phone. So much for our ban on cell phones for our prisoners. Another rule honored in the breach.

“I’m talking to the Governor, Warden. He tells me that he will commute my sentence.”

Apparently she had decided to proceed Pro Se, and was making a personal plea for clemency!  You really need to get your Chief of Staff to filter those types of calls, Governor, particularly on Sundays.

I expressed disbelief.

“How do I know that’s really the Governor, slut?  You could be manipulating the system.”

“He’s doubting my word, Governor.  Will you talk to Warden Mick directly and let him know I’m off the hook?”

She handed me the phone.

“Hey Mick….. how’s it going there.  Man…. I can’t believe how badly both our teams sucked today.”

Sure enough, unless she was wily enough to hire a clever impersonator, it seemed to be you, Governor.

“So what do we do with our Mistress / Slave here M?  She seems to be pretty desperate, though I think she might be able to suck it up until tomorrow when her original sentence expires. Do you really want me to commute that sentence?”

“What I told her is that it’s up to you, Mick…. You decide whether to finish the job or let her off the hook.”

Apparently Mistress’s cajoling has softened up the Governor. No big surprise there. Maybe next time she needs one of those Hannibel Lector gag / masks to stifle all that wheedling.

“Yes, sir.  I will proceed at my own discretion.”

I handed the phone back to Mistress. She turned on the charm for you, Governor. As she signed off No doubt she is thinking she can wangle some high level appointment in your next term. A real rags to riches story in the making. From lowly prisoner to Director of Corrections!  Please.

After she signed off, another successful appeal put to bed, she smiled at me.

‘So do I get to come now, Slave?’

She was feeling her oats, having reduced the Governor to her sniveling patsy.

“Take off the dress, prisoner. Things are now at my discretion ….”

She was positioned on her back on the bed, her head at it’s foot. The towel strips used on her legs earlier this morning secured her arms, spread wide.

That gave me ready access to her aromatic folds, already squirming in contemplation of her early release. The photograph documents this final stage of her TTT treatment.

“I do get to come now, don’t I Slave?”

“Let’s just see how things, develop….. And how nicely you beg. See if you can be as persuasive with me as you were with the Governor.”

I deployed the feather, one of ‘Nilla’s suggestions. And a useful one. The prisoner squirmed nicely as I let it slide from toe sole of her foot, up her leg and then dip into her sodden valley at the apex of her  thighs.

“Stop…. Slave……that’s just too much……”

I did. After a while. A long while.

I dipped a finger in,  collecting, then tasting those juices. I even gave the prisoner a little taste, dipping a finger into her wanton lips.

“Aren’t you just scrumptious, Mistress?”

She just scowled. 

“Can’t I just come…… ?”

That’s when I deployed the trusty Hitachi. By then she knew that I was not going to drag it our much longer, If only for fear of reprisals once she persuaded you to make her my boss.

She was squirming in earnest.

“Oh God… I really can’t hold back anymore, Slave…. Please may I come…please?”

“Yes, you may…..”

And of course she did: Shaking, jerking, wrapping her legs around that churning device, hugging it to her needy mound, her head thrown back, arms straining against her bonds.

I suspect your voters would like to see these TTT sentences, and their final acts,  shown on the local public access channels, Governor.  The DVR’s would be churning. Think about including that in your platform when you run for your 2^nd term.

And since I had only eased up but not shut off the power tool, she quickly was coming again. Ditto the paragraph above.

Afterwards, she did show her gratitude. It’s one of the perks of my job as Warden here, along with the bloated pension and lots of sick days.

“Warden….. would you like to fuck me now.”

Who could resist that sweet, if manipulative, voice.

In summary, just another day of the prisoners running the prison Governor.

“Same as it ever was.”

---

Mistress's Day of Denial

Some of you were snickering when I reported on last Sunday’s “Switch” activities, when I decided to overload Mistress with a cornucopia of orgasms.

I could hear you. “Wow, that sure was tough on her, Mick.”

So this week, with prompting from our Western Correspondent – who finally earned his lofty monthly retainer and expense check – we tried a completely different approach.

When I came upstairs to let Mistress read the blog, and learn about her sentence, she was one step ahead of me.

“I saw that email from M, Slave…. You aren’t really going to do those things are you?”



She was already resorting to manipulation. Wheedling to get her way. It wouldn’t surprise me if she had already snuck one in under the wire, once she learned of her “sentence”

“And why not, Mistress. Doesn’t it turn you on to have M calling the shots, denying you through his minion here in River City?”

“Well….”

My finger was slowly circling her moist clit, where my tongue had explored while she read the blog. Her hips were already squirmy.

“I suppose it does Slave…”

I went to work at that point.

Her hands were bound in those little red cuffs, then tied off, together at the top of the bed.

Her ankles were tied off to the corners with some long soft strips torn from a beach towel, spreading her legs wide.

You can see her in the photo, the feather ‘Nilla recommended ready for action.

She looked delicious. And the aroma of molten cunt was already filling our room.

As M suggested, she got a good spanking first. Her bottom glowed red. She whined a bit, but took her medicine well.

I suppose she knew it was far better than what was to come.

Then She was tickled.

The feather has a nice squirmy effect on her, particularly when the tip pokes and probes between her juicy folds. Her hips strained against her bindings, in a futile attempt to evade.

“Why don’t you just let me come, Slave….. we don’t have to tell M….”

Oh, the Slave conspiracy theme. I was not falling for it.

“But that would be wrong, Mistress….”

I fed her my cock, kneeling on the bed to allow her access. She did an excellent job of bringing it to full dimensions.

Then I slid onto her back. She was so wet and eager that I found my mark immediately, sliding deep inside. But taking it slow and easy to keep Mistress on the edge.

I’ll give her credit. I know she was struggling to resist coming as I fucked her from behind. Usually the friction of her clit against the bed, and the pumping from my hard cock makes it easy for her to tip over the edge. Her labored breathing told me how hard she was working at staying under control.

“Good girl, Mistress.”

I was getting a little close to the edge myself, so slid out and picked up Mistress’s trusty Hitachi, lying next to the bed.

She saw what I was doing.

“That is completely unfair, Slave…..”

I laughed at her trepidation.

“Oh Mistress….. suck it up…..”

I learned that the Hitachi is not just a one trick pony. It also makes a lovely tickling implement, if slid along the soles of a restrained slut’s feet, or under her arms. Lots of struggling and squirming ensued, making our old wooden bed groan.

But when I slid it under those squirming hips, letting it come into contact with her sopping folds it was a different song that Mistress sang.

Her hips were doing their best to pull away, but there was very little range of motion for her.

“You’ve really got to let me come, Slave…. Or take that thing away. I really can’t take it anymore without coming.”

I decided to show her mercy. The Hitachi was parked. Her legs were untied. I rolled her over.

Then I fucked her.

I was not on denial, after all. I made sure I took it slow and easy until I was ready to come. And I did ask for permission. It’s hard to break that habit.

I almost felt guilty taking my own pleasure while Mistress was denied hers’.

Almost.

“You really are doing this, Slave?”

I think she thought M and I were just pulling her leg. That I would drag things out but ultimately relent.

“Let’s go for a bike ride, Mistress, that will distract you from your plight”

We went biking. When we got home I was off to do some maintenance at a rental property we own closer to downtown. But first I had some orders to fulfill.

“Come here Mistress….”

I was sitting on the bed.

“And pull those riding shorts down to your knees.”

She gave me the “you’ve got to be kidding me look”.

But she was a good little slut, and complied. Maybe she thought I would relent.

Instead, I pulled her over my lap for that nice bare bottom spanking M had prescribed for her. She does squirm nicely.

And when I asked her to spread those delicious thighs a bit, to allow more access, she greedily complied.

But when my fingers began to do what they have been trained to do, she began to object.

“You’re driving me crazy, Slave….. why don’t you just let me come.”

“But it’s not even noon, Mistress….. just think of our friends who have had to endure so much more denial that a mere few hours…..”

“But they don’t have someone teasing and fucking them when they are on denial, do they?”

She had a point. So I stopped my fingering of her aromatic folds, and let her off the hook.

Later in the day, she lay next to me on the couch as I read the Times and watched our miserable NFL team.

She had not gone the multiple layers of riding shorts root. Instead she elected the naked cunt under black cotton dress route. That gave me easy access to finger and taunt her every ten minutes or so.

“You know you’re driving me crazy, don’t you Slave….”

“But you taste so good, Mistress,” I said, as I licked her juices from my fingers.

And she does have a lovely pout.

Unfortunately, dear readers, my deadline has approached. Time for me to go upstairs and wake Mistress…..So I will leave you waiting for the conclusion of this little tale of frustration.

Until tomorrow, Mick

Mistress's Collection

Friday evening, Mistress was lying next to me in bed, laptop on her tummy, scrolling through her digital photo collection. She was pulling out some scenic photos of our Mountain Hideaway and environs to assemble a slideshow or her office computer. And I was watching…

But it was hard not to notice as she sorted through all those photos a certain body part.

Mistress giggled.

“He does send me a lot of cock pictures, Slave.”

Apparently he does.

Various angles.

Various states.

But mostly rigid, veined, angry, needy.

“I think you like it Mistress …. I think it speaks to you …. About what you do to him …. What you make him want to do.”

“I suppose it does, Slave.”

And of course, Mistress could delete them when they pop up on a text message at the most surprising times.

At the office.  At a lunch meeting. In a client presentation. Or the grocery store.

But she doesn’t slide them into the trash.  She collects them. They end up on her laptop, with photos of the more mundane and prosaic parts of our lives.

Horses. Fall foliage. Teens. Mountains. Cocks.

“When you glance at these photos, does it make you wet, Mistress? Does it fuel your fantasy about being on your knees, worshiping M’s special occasion cock?”

“Mmmmm….. I guess it does, Slave.”

The laptop was finding it’s way to the desk next to our bed. Mistress was sliding out of her gauzy, transparent panties.

Her hand found it’s way to my cock.

I don’t think she was surprised to find it hard and ready for her.

“I’m going to ride it, Slave….”

I knew what to do. Lay back. Let Mistress impale her sopping cunt on my workaday cock.

And if in her mind she was riding the angry one in those photos, if it was our Western Correspondent pinching her nipples, or pulling her ass down onto him with his strong hands, well, who was I to complain.

Mistress worked herself into a state, then came crashing down onto me, moaning, face flushed, her fingers reaching behind, stroking my balls.

Apparently that collection can inspire all sorts of things.

Mistress was in a feisty mode Saturday afternoon.

After a bike ride and some leaf raking, We settled into an afternoon of leisure.  Mistress took a nap, and I joined her after suffering through a dismal college football game.

When she woke it was time for her to remind me who is in charge.

“Get out the strap-on slave…. It’s time.”

She slid into her gear. Made sure I had the lube on hand, but first there was some business to take care of.

“I can’t recall now why you deserve a spanking, but we might as well take care of that too.”

I remembered. But chose not to remind her. It might only get worse.

My bottom was appropriately tenderized with her long wooden shoe horn. Stingy blows rained down on me, making me squirm and whine into the pillow.

But I think we both felt better when it was done. And I know the spanking made my bottom particularly receptive to her faux cock as she pumped into me.

Mistress comes in an altogether different way when she fucks me  from behind this way. Her body jerks hard against me as her clit frictions against my ass and the leather of her harness. It seems to take her by surprise as she gasps her pleasure then collapses onto me before pulling out.

She gives me a little pat on the butt. As if I had been a good boy for her. And I had. Then she slides out of her harness. She leaves it on the floor for me to clean and put away for it’s next deployment.

“Go insert your device now Slave…. Then get back here and fuck me.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Last evening we went to some friends’ home for dinner. It was a nice evening, sitting out back on their deck, under a full moon and stars. Mistress was allowed to “indulge”, while I went easier as the designated driver.

AS always, Mistress looked delicious: those high boots, black tights, swishy dress.

On the drive home, I had the pleasure of sliding my hands up under the dress. Mistress was a tad tipsy, but seemed to enjoy the friction of my fingers sliding along those smooth tights to the apex of her thighs, her legs spread, undulating a bit in response.

“Remember, tomorrow is switch day, Mistress …. And we’re following the regime that M proposed for you last week: tickling, teasing, but no cumming.”

She looked at me, a bit surprised.

“Ohhh…. You wouldn’t would you, Slave?”

“After all those orgasms last Sunday, I think you could handle it.  But maybe we should ask M how long you should be expected to go without an O.”

“Good idea, Slave…. Let’s see what he has to say.”

So after we got home, and Mistress got a little pre-switch orgasm from my devoted tongue, I whipped off an email to our Western Correspondent, reading it to Mistress first:

M- I've told Mistress that she's going to endure what you suggested for last sunday....tickling , teasing but not cumming ,   But how long do you think I should make her wait? Sunday night?  Monday?  Tuesday?  

She thinks if I ask you now it might hasten the time she will have to suffer without  a cum.

(I did just lick her to a midnight O, so she shouldn't have too much to complain about....)

Mick

This morning, when I woke up and slid out of bed, I found M’s response:

--

Mick:

since she intends to keep you chaste for three days..

I would recommend Monday morning...

 but with plenty of teasing in between... 

i think an hourly teasing, 

as much as possible, 

would be in order... 

feather on the clit...  

each hour sounds good to me...

maybe a home made chastity device in between.... 

3 pairs of bike shorts?  

with a sock tucked in between her legs...

 just to suck up the juice and keep her from stimulating herself ?"

  and strict observation... 

she can be a devious little slut, might slip away and cheat!

  AND I would pull down those shorts every hour or so and give her a good sound bare bottom spanking... 

will jiggle her clit,

  you will need to keep a very close watch on her at night...  

might try to go for the quick rub off in the bathroom... 

be very observant!!!

and/or bind her hands!!!

she is very smart will try to out fox U

good luck

the lazy ... but always entertained  WC 

M, thanks for your directive. I will do my best to fulfill the letter and spirit of your sentence for our beloved Mistress/Slave.

 I suspect this plan of action may drive Mistress to distraction today. MAbe she thought M would give her a reprieve. Not.

And I suspect contemplating this plan of action for Switch Day could distract a few of our readers too.

Question: How to Best Secure a Slave During a Business Trip?

Mistress and Slave left work a little early Friday.

The bright fall sunshine and warm air demanded an early start to the weekend with a brisk bike ride before the sun went down.

But there was still some time for worship.

Mistress stripped away her work cloths ( I did get this photo before that task was done. I figure those   pantyhose fetishists out there will enjoy this one. and don't you like those green undies?).

But as I was putting a pillow on the floor for my aging knees, her text message chime went off.

I handed her the I-phone.

“Is that your boyfriend, Mistress?”

“He’s really not a ‘boyfriend’, Slave….but yes it is…. He wants to know what I am up to….”

“Well tell him you are about to be worshipped, Mistress…”

“Better yet, a photo….”

She positioned the camera just so, showing me positioned to serve her, her clean shaven pussy lips smiling at the base of the shot.

She sent it off to him as I dove into that welcoming valley, exploring with my tongue, suckling on her little bud.

I could barely hear the chime as he replied.

“He says, “VERY HOT”, Slave.

Yes, M, she is.

On our ride Mistress brought up her trip to Nashville next week – a two night business foray with some colleagues.

“The Western Correspondent is very curious about what I’m going to do with you Slave….”

“As in?”

“He thinks I should lock you in the cage while I’m gone.”

“That’s up to you, Mistress….”

“Of course, we will have to figure what to do with the key, in case there is an emergency.”

“Yes, I suppose there’s always a chance I might have to go to some building with a metal detector.”

“Maybe we can keep one key in a secret location in the house, and another that you cold collect at my office from my assistant if I give the OK.”

Somehow this was getting to me. Those little twitches were back, even as I pedaled up hill. Mistress knows how to drive her Slave to distraction.

“So why does M find this to be such a good idea, Mistress?”

“He likes the idea of me having phone sex with him on my trip, while you are locked away… waiting for me to return. Getting increasingly desperate…. He says it’s a very HOT idea.”

“And what do you think, Mistress.”

“You know how much I like you desperate for me Slave…. What Mistress wouldn’t.”

I was getting there.

“Will you be packing the Hitachi, Mistress.”

“Of course, Slave… you won’t have any use for it here.”

I was imagining Mistress at M’s “disposal” on her trip…. Retreating to her hotel room to strip and writhe for him on demand.

Twitch.

“Maybe we should ask your sub-sisters what they think, Slave…. Should I lock you up while I’m gone…. Not just when you are at work…. That’s a no-brainer … but for the whole time. Make you sleep in the cage?”

“I’ll float the question to them Mistress….”

Would it surprise you to learn that when we got home, stripped away the sweaty riding clothes, we found ourselves deferring our Friday evening picnic, and sliding between the sheets?

Teased

Because of an early breakfast meeting, Mistress and Slave did not have time for any morning sex on Thursday. 

And maybe because of my early morning perusal of my colleague’s blogs, Slave was a little on edge as I stroked the inside of Mistress’s black tighted thighs on the drive to work.

That little tingle of desire was coursing through my cock…

“I’m a little horny, Mistress …. It’s going to be a long day….”

“Ooh … poor slave…. Its good for you!”

She gave me a little patronizing pat below the belt, then went back to checking her emails on her I-phone.

“Maybe I’ll let you worship me after lunch…. How would that be Slave?

“Lovely, Mistress…..”

AS the morning progresses I reiterated my desire for her by text message.

“Horny, Mistress”

“Good. Maybe I will suck your cock.”

Hmmm… Twitch.

When Mistress strolled into my office around 1:30 pm, she was a delight to see, her perfume filling the room, her long legs and black boots no doubt drawing the attention of my male colleagues.

I efficiently pressed the chair against my door, and spread our little absorbent blanket on the seat for her.

Mistress sat, slid off a boot, and took one leg of her tights off to give me access. Her naked cunt already seemed  to be glistening for me.

With her legs spread and welcoming, I decided I had to capture the moment.

I picked up my cell phone.

“Let’s send a picture o our Western Correspondent, Mistress…. Show him what he is missing.”

Mistress was amused, and approved my little scheme, but only after vetting the shot. She does have a bit of vanity going on, and only wants to be shown in her best light.

After the photo was off to M, I fell to my knees and focused on probing, prodding and sucking through those moist and fragrant folds. And soon Mistress was convulsing against me, one leg slipping over my shoulder to drive me home.

Delicious.

But Mistress was not done with me. She reached for my belt as I obediently knelt before her, unhooked my pants, lowered my zipper, and reached in to grip my firm and needy cock.

“Hmmmm….. you do seem horny slave.”

“Ahhh… yeah.”

I was a little distracted by her fingers sliding up and  down my growing length.

“Would you like me to take me in my mouth and make you come, Slave….”

But that’s where I got a  ittle anxious. We’ve done it in my office after hours before, but not in the middle of the day.

All those folks outside my door wandering around, possibly knocking to ask a question, or give me some of their work product, needed to be considered.

“I hate to say it Mistress …. But probably not a good idea…”

She giggled, gave me a squeeze…. Then released my all the more frustrated cock.  I think she alredy knew what my answer would be.

“Oh dear…. Guess you’re just going to have to wait then Slave.”

Still in a state, I kissed Mistress good bye, walked her to the elevator, and wiped the remnants of her lipstick off my face.

Later, my text message went off. It was M, commiserating.

“Poor Slave…. I hear you passed up your big opportunity.”

News traveled fast.

But at least I knew my prospects would be good when I got home.

And as it turned out, they definitely were.

Love Our Lurkers Day at UCTMW

We are jumping on the bandwagon here at the Collins' household, asking those of you who read but don't come out of the shadows and join the conversation to say hello.

ur stats show that we often usually get about 600 page views a day, and that about 65 of our daily visitors are making a return trip to UCTMW. With 81 "followers" we know that some of you are following our adventures regularly.

What we've found is that there is a community to be found and enjoyed that start with pithy comments and lead ... who knows where.

Just ask our Western Correspondent, who pops up in the strangest places....

And to satisfy Sin's request, here is a bonus: a photo of the infamous cock cage.

The ring goes on first, with much smushing and probing to get the balls and cock through. Then the cage slides on, with the little lock securing all nice and tightly.

Mistress can then rest assured that her Slave can't get into trouble.

and yes, you want to avoid metal detectors with this little sucker.

Looking forward to hearing from you all.

HNT / Focus

Mistress has an early curtain call this morning, dear readers … so just time for a (blog) quickie.

So after stoking Mistress’s flame a bit yesterday with lips and tongue as she read the blog… but denying her an orgasm per our Western Correspondent’s direction, I got her bad news after I climbed from the shower.

“Bad news Slave.  M has to cancel on me this morning. Something about a glitch in his kids’ school schedule”.

By now I was on a work deadline of my own, with no time to come to her wanton rescue.

Poor Mistress.

We would both be heading to work, in separate cars, in a state of anticipation.

(That is if Mistress did not take advantage of her free time for some self-help with her Hitachi. One can only speculate.)

Plus, because of a lunch engagement where a security check would be in place, I could not be asked to wear my steel cage.

We did meet at the lunch. Mistress was one of the organizers. The guest of honor was a rather recognizable world religious and political figure. In the spirit of this blog’s tradition of preserving the anonymity of our characters, let’s just call him “Quatorce”.

AS a Buddhist, he’s clearly big on meditation, and talked about the importance of “focus”: picking one thing to meditate on each morning to clear and focus the brain.

Impressive dude. Plus he had a color coordinated visor to go with those saffron robes.

When we finally converged again at home, Mistress seemed to appreciate the worship she was offered before our bike ride. And we adjourned to our chambers for good once the teens were fed.

I was instructed to insert my little white probe.

“I need a very hard one tonight, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

It does do wonders. Not that I needed much help. It had been almost 24 hours.

And as we settled in for a long siege, Mistress mentioned something M had shared earlier in the day, when they talked on her drive home.

“M mentioned that you are a real specialist when it comes to oral sex, Slave… he thinks it’s amazing how much time you spend down there….”

“Well, like Quatorce said today, Mistress …. It’s all about focus. I could do it for hours, couldn’t I….”

“Ummmm…. Yes, Slave.”

I was helping her slide out of those transparent panties on display above, ready to dive in.

“Doesn’t M like to do that?”

“Well I get the impression he does it some, but it’s not his specialty … like it is yours, Slave.”

“What is his specialty …. Driving the special occasion cock into whatever orifice might be available at the moment, with great force?”

“Yeah …. I suppose that’s it, Slave.”