Inside UCTMW Week.... The Editorial Board Meeting

A few weeks back, Mistress and Slave watched a documentary (via Netflix) about our favorite newspaper, called "Page One: Inside the New York Times." The point was to open the door and look at the decision making processes that grind out the daily news feed from that "Grey Lady". I suspect the doors were opened at the Times to an independent filmmaker in a probably fruitless attempt to put some human faces on an institution that tries a little too hard to pretend to be God on most days, and has taken its share of lumps from the right wing and the markets in the last decade.... but who are we to judge.

Of course, here at UCTMW we fancy ourselves as at the pinnacle of cheesy sex blog journalism, so why not open up the process a little so all of  you aspiring Mollys and Micks can see how things really get done around here.

Take for example, the role our Publisher, Molly Collins plays in giving a final stamp of approval on our daily output.

As it happens, Mick is usually in charge of  written content on the blog, with the exception of occasional postings from the Publisher's desk .

Indeed, when Molly asks the night before, "what are you going to write about tomorrow, Slave", I am usually coy. For two reasons: 1) I really have no fucking idea: and 2) I like to surprise her with my daily spin on our work and play -a-day lives.  The true test of my success here is not how many page views or shout-outs we get, but whether I get some sort of rise from her as she reads the blog and I work my tongue and lips across her legendary clean shaven folds.

But there is one aspect of the blog where Molly exercises complete editorial control: displays of her likeness.  Take last night for example.

We had arrived home from our weekend trip, and had settled into a nice evening of catching up with the accumulated newspapers and watching some TV (nice Woody Allen bio-documentary on PBS). AS we watched I told Mistress I was going to download some photos from "Switch Day" for the blog.

This definitely got her attention. No sooner had they appeared on the screen than she was leaning over my shoulder, critiquing, approving, or sending some of the photos to the trash bin.

"That one's OK, Slave...."

"Ick.... not that one!"

I've learned not to argue on these matters.  though at one point I noted that the approved photo of her lush ass, reddened by by spanks, was not much different than the one she had condemned, which featured her ass msucles clenched tight as she bucked against her favorite power tool.

"Too many lines, Slave....."

But as you cans see, she did find a few shots that met her discerning eye.

As you can see from the photo montage, Slave did bring sufficient supplies to catch up on some missed Switch Day opportunities over the last few weeks. There was the restraining of Mistress's wrists and ankles; a nice firm spanking, in honor of the re-emergence of E, who has a bit of a spanking fetish that Mistress would so clearly like to accommodate; and then as a final "punishment" I slid the magic wand between those clenched thighs, making Mistress squirm and ultimately beg for permission to come.

I do love the way her ass muscles get so tight in those final throes of abandon. But alas, that photo ended up on the cutting room floor. (Maybe our readers can persuade her to authorize that shot, but I've given up).

When Mistress had her fill, one of those emotional cums that had her face red and damp with tears, I released her ankles and wrists, and flipped her over for a nice thorough fucking.  But, always the good Slave, I made sure to ask permission too.