Pride - and Asses - on the Line

Mistress is now off to that little College town up the road for her first sleep over with David, her 40 year old would be "Master".  He seemed very interested in getting Mistress into his clutches this evening, and she did not put up much of an argument.

Indeed, she went out of her way to slide into those peek-a-boo tights to make sure he had quick and easy access upon her arrival.

We drove to work together, and on the road home she let it drop that David had texted her making it clear he planned to use "all of her orifices".

"I made it clear that two orifices were available, but that #3 was off limits, at least for now, Slave."

"Let's see how long you can draw that line, Mistress...."

"Oh, Slave....."

She actually seemed to blush.  Cute.

Meanwhile, Mistress has been in re-negotiations with Mr. Perfect Cock, the Abercrombie Model "hunk" she had some compelling sex with last Friday afternoon here at the UCTMW World HQ. But she blew him off via text message after hearing about his strange and complicated relationship with a woman out west, and after he failed to make a prompt courtesy call (or message) after having an afternoon's all access pass to her lush body.

"It's a matter of manners, Mistress. A man does not have sex with a woman, particularly  for the first time, and not get back with a "thank you" note within at least two hours."

Mistress seemed to agree. And yet, surprisingly, she seems to have reopened the door for Mr. Perfect Cock.

"I told him maybe dinner sometime,  to talk ...."

"And he said....."

"He can't stop thinking about having sex with me...."

"Bummer for him, Mistress...."

We'll see how good a groveler this guy is, because it may take some serious groveling to get back into Mistress's clean shaven folds.

I'm not discounting his chances.

I did get in touch with Jay, over at All Mine today. Jay is tending to the blog while Suzanne and Tammy are off to Europe with a trunk of sex toys to keep Suzanne satisfied. (I'm still wondering if they were able to get through security at Logan without some serious TSA snickering at poor Tammy, who's bags were overstuffed with dildos, harnesses, etc.)

Jay and I went to the two Catholic Universities that will meet on the gridiron  Saturday night in Chestnut Hill for this year's version of  what some refer to as the "Holy War." I've been to one of those confrontations there, and was amazed at seeing so many white Irish Catholic types wearing ND shirts and BC hats.

 Lots of conflicting loyalties. Lots of flip sides of the same Celtic gene pool coin.

Those of us who suffered through four years in South Bend, Indiana like to think of BC as just another party school for folks who couldn't get into ND. Of course,  BC grads know it's a whole lot more fun to matriculate in Boston than in the rust belt,  where the biggest building in town is a dead factory that stopped making Studebakers at about the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Maybe it's that familiarity that stokes the contempt the two schools have for one another. That, and  the big upsets that killed two potential championship seasons for the Irish back in the day.

In any event. to make matters more interesting, Jay and I have negotiated a little bet over Saturday evening's game:

If the Irish win, he's volunteered Suzanne's lovely ass for a wooden spoon paddling.

If the Irish loose, than this humble Slave will be at the mercy of Mistress on Sunday, who will wield that wooden spoon.

The number of "smacks" will be based on the margin of defeat.

Obviously, Jay drove a hard bargain. But I admire his team spirit in refusing to take the spread, which currently favors my Irish.

I'm sure Suzanne will be proud of his negotiating skills as she counts off those wooden spoon splats on her ass when she finally finds her way home!