Extra Time in The Penalty Box

With the WC cruising the winter games, it was hard not to think of a hockey metaphor when Mistress locked her Slave away for the day yesterday morning, sliding the key out of the lock and sending me on my way for a long day at work.

"I don't want you running wild if I'm not going to see you at dinner time, Slave."

It was an unusual Friday night for us. Mistress had promised her Mother to accompany her to a social event and dinner. Slave was using the time to visit my cranky Mother and bring her a Pizza and some groceries at her assisted living "home". It was not like I was going to get in trouble, but I suppose Mistress has every right to remind me who is in charge.

At least there was a chance for some robust wake up sex, with my cock already surrounded by that tight steel ring. I had done my best to please Mistress with my lips and tongue, but after I had done my part of the bargain, she began a bit of a tease.

Gripping my very enthusiastic cock, she pondered it's fate, as I wriggled in her grip, suggesting in increasingly desperate pleas that the time had come to mount her.

"What if I deny you, Slave.  Just think how horny you'd be all day in that cage."

"It's not a pleasant thought, Mistress."

"But isn't that part of the fun... frustration and denial."

It wasn't sounding like much fun to me at the time. I need to steel myself in advance for that sort of thing. And the only thing that was 'steely' was what Mistress had a tight grip on.  So I resorted to some cheap reverse psychology.

"But just think, Mistress. You'd miss out on that extra hard cock in your hand...you like it when that ring is on, don't you?"

"Hmmmm..... you do have a point Slave...."

Thankfully, Mistress's own self interest prevailed, and a good time was had by all before I hit the shower and headed off to my long day.

Mistress finally got home at around 10 pm. I'd been there a while, switching on the Olympics "opening ceremony" to see if I could catch a glimpse of the WC sidling up to Julie and Lindsay for an exclusive interview. What I found was some strange and incomprehensible  cultural montage of post-Soviet national narcissism, set in a town that until now was apparently best known for ethnic cleansing.  But then I suppose the Russians were probably a little befuddled when at the London Olympics the "Queen" parachuted to the stadium floor. So I didn't wtch for long. I hope the WC was successful in his mission. But I'm not sure he would have recognized Julie or Lindsay in those dorky team costumes, since he's been more focused on these get ups:

But I don't think they were parading in their ski boots.

Back in the UCTMW executive suite, it seemed like Mistress took her own sweet time to find the little key and release her work-a-day cock.  But she made clear that Slave was going to have to wait for any additional release until this morning.

It seemed like a small price to pay to get out of the penalty box and back in the ice.