Domme Wife / Sub Hub Get the Showtime Treatment

Mistress and slave had the sort of weekend that comes up this time of year when your local NFL team has been ignominiously eliminated from the play-offs. In other words, it was too cold outside to do anything productive, and there was little to focus our attention on other than sharing mutual warmth under the covers of our bed.

Well, that, and watch otherwise inconsequential football games.

Of course, we did do some boringly responsible things: visiting aging mothers, hanging with my grandkids. etc. But we had polished those items off the "to do" list on Saturday, leaving Sunday to our own pursuits.  Than involved sleeping in and making sure Mistress got to spend some time with her favorite power tool before she emerged to go to her spinning session.

At some point the Dowager Domme stopped by to pick up our daughter for brunch. Knowing I owed our readers a blog, I had my camera ready, but her shoes were pretty tame for a change: just some brown suede boots.  Not kinky enough to risk a surreptitious papparazi moment.

Left alone, there was that rather dull Carolina / Seattle game to entertain us. It was so (seemingly) dull that at half time we returned to our bed for a mid-afternoon nap, and another opportunity for slave to worship Mistress once she had finished her beauty rest.

That left the 2nd game of the day. Slave was happy to see the Donkeys finally eliminate the hated Stillers. Congratulations Mike! Peyton Fucking Manning lives to fight a final death match with Tom Brady. But remember, Mike, it was the Pussycats who softened them up for the kill! Every Matador needs a good Picador to poke holes and start the bleeding!

Monday was a sort of holiday in town. And while both of us went to work, it was easy for slave to slip out early, leaving time for some sundown sex in the UCTMW Executive Suite. A good way to start the work week if there is any good way.

After recovering, slave whipped up some dinner and we settled into watch the new Showtime series Billions, which stars Damien Lewis as a charmingly sleazy hedge fund billionaire, and Paul Giamatti as his Prosecutorial nemesis. It all sounded fairly predictable, until the very first scene popped up:

That's right: It's the son of the late baseball commissioner trussed up  and gagged in his boxers. And it's no kidnapping. Soon a mysterious lady in black highheeled boots looms over him, and proceeds to put her cigarette out on his left nipple.  Ouch.

So from the start you can tell this is not just your ordinary white collar procedural.

But who is the mystery lady? A Pro Domme that this over-caffeinated zealot goes to for therapy? His Secretary, earning some easy overtime hours?

Later you see scenes with the US Attorney, his dark haired wife (played by Maggie Siff) and their cute little kids at home. All pretty domestic and vanilla. And the wife turns out to be a Psychiatrist who, naturally, works for the hedge fund billionaire, setting  up a conflict of interest that will be a source of drama in episodes to come.

It's not until the final frames of Episode I that the show reveals the true nature of the Prosecutor's marriage. Home from a busy day at the office sending crooks to jail,  Giamatti  discovers that the cute little kids are already in bed and Mom is ready to take on her proper role:

Now those are boots worthy of Mistress, or the Dowager Domme.

It's good to see that the female led relationship has broken into the mainstream.

Or at least Pay cable.