"Grooming" in the "Bush"?

Slave is back from our hideaway. Mistress is still off in the wilds of Kenya. Thankfully she returns on Saturday, and we were able to talk briefly today. She regaled me with stories of some lions munching on the neck of a giraffe. I'm just grateful they weren't noshing on her.

Sounds like the close quarters with her sister and the Dowager Domme has kept her sexual fun in check these nearly two weeks.  I suspect she will be a pretty horny Mistress when she touches down.

And her slave will be aiming to please.

I do wonder if she's been able to keep those clean shaven folds maintained, what with the close quarters and her limited access to showers in the "bush" ( pun fully intended).  Which brings me to an article I noted in today's NY Times, which surprised me. Most Women Prefer to Go Bare.

The report suggests that the "clean shaven look" is more common than I expected:

A new study published in the journal JAMA Dermatology on Wednesday confirmed just how widespread the practice is. Sixty-two percent of a nationally representative sample of 3,316 women said they opted for complete removal of their pubic hair; 84 percent reported some grooming.

While the report says that the percentage of ladies going for the clean shaven folds look skews younger (18-34), the 62% number was larger than this old slave would have expected. Not surprisingly, some ladies do it to accommodate a man in their life, as Mistress did at the request of one of her earler cuckolder lovers some years ago:

Women were more likely to groom if their partner expressed a preference for it, the study found. But while earlier smaller studies had shown a link between grooming and sexual activity, particularly oral sex, this study found that while some women groomed for that purpose, it was not the primary reason: For example, 22 percent of the women reported grooming around the area of the anus, but only 10 percent had partaken in anally related sexual activity in the prior year.

Instead, the researchers said, providers of health care and aesthetic treatments should become attuned to the diversity of reasons that women groom. The women also said they did so for vacation and because they see their own genitalia as more attractive when groomed.

Whatever the motivation, I can vouch for the fact that it is certainly easier for me to ply my craft at pleasing Mistress with my avid lips and tongue without all that clutter in the way. Hopefully her days as a “Jungle Girl” will not change her grooming habits once she returns to “civilization”.

Better Together

Slave's 10 day hiatus at our SW hideaway comes to an end tomorrow. And while I've had fun with some of the locals, gotten lots of exercise, and stuccoed my parapets, it's just not the same here without my firm but fair Mistress as a source of warmth, contentment and amusement.  There are no tanning curves to secretly photograph, no clean shaven folds to worship, and no one to share my table with, whether I'm cooking at home or out on the town.

The strangest part is that Mistress is off at several Kenyan "camps" in the bush these last few days, totally off the grid.

It's been since last Thursday that we've actually spoken, and all I've heard from her in the last 48 hours was abbreviated email. While she's given me lots of rope while we are away, even wanking off daily, as she has directed, has gotten  dreary without her to supervise. I'm sure some of you perpetually under lock and key would describe that "burden" as a "first world problem".  But it's a whole lot easier to have conjugal relations with a hot wife every day than  to go solo. It might have worked for Paul Simon, but maybe I'm the Art Garfunkel of that duet!

(I do have to send a thank you to a reader who suggested  V.T. Burnham's book "the Uncertain Cuckold",  for providing a little fuel for the imagination in my quest to follow Mistress's orders. While the sexual action may be a little far fetched, Vaughn  provides some compelling accounts of a wife tormenting and teasing her cucky hubby as she frolics with one of his friends.)

The bottom line is that Mistress and I  are indeed, "Better Together" separated by 9 time zones. Ironically, "better together" was/is  the campaign slogan of the unsuccessful "Remainders" who lost the Brexit campaign, as well as former first Lady and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. Both campaigns have argued that bridges are better than walls, that love trumps  (pun intended)  intolerance, and that you can't turn back time to a nation that was whiter and less diverse.

 English voters seemed to think that we may not be "better together" after all, though the folks in Scotland and Northern Ireland disagreed.

Of course, it's naive to think that in every circumstance, we are "better together". Some relationships may be better to be put in the rear view mirror. I'm thinking:

1) As a (lapsed) Catholic of Irish ancestry, it's a conviction imbedded in  my DNA that Ireland  would be better without the English oppressors clinging to the north. So will England now try to build a wall to keep those European Irish out of the north half of their shared Isle?

2)  Scotland  also might be better off no longer tied to their supercilious English neighbors. The Scots have whiskey and oil to sell. The English have Benedict Cumberbatch and Downton Abby reruns.



3) Cher clearly was  better without Sonny.

5) On the other hand I'm not convinced that Julia Roberts is better off without Lyle Lovett.



The jury is still out on whether  Donald "America First"Tump and  Boris "Brexit" Johnson, who seem to have so much in common, will be better with or without each other:

Seeds of Slave's Cuckold Fetish?

Slave heard a few faint text messages from Mistress early this morning - and night time in Kenya where she remains hunkered down in the "bush". doing some hiking through the countryside. She seems a little discombobulated at being so "off the grid".  Naturally I assured her that all is well here state-side, and it seems she did receive the most recent snapchat of my cock cage before I went out to dinner last night with some friends.

I'm wondering if that (presumably) foppish writer for the Financial Times is still explaining "Brexit" to anyone who will listen to his privileged prattlings.  I know everyone is all a twitter over the fallout for the world economy. And I am sure not oblivious to my own 401(k) plan and the various world markets. But as a guy who uses the name of a prominent Irish nationalist for my sex blog persona,  I must say I get a chuckle at the prospects of England shrinking in both physical and economic size as the Irish and Scotts consider finally cutting the cord to the Queen and her overbearing government.

I spent a good chunk of my day on a solo climb of the state's highest peak, which clocks in at around 13,500 ft. It's something I usually do with Mistress, but th weather was nice, and I needed another day unplugged from technology.  Of course, doing it solo has it's disadvantages- it's about 7 hours up and back, and without Mistress to keep me company, it can get a little lonely plodding along.  So (despite what I said about technology) I had my I-pod along and listened to a play list assembled sometime ago of mellow tunes spanning the decades since the 1960's.

One of the songs that popped up on the walk down the mountain was a 1968 song by the Jefferson Airplane, from the "Crown of Creation" album, called Triad (the link has an interesting photo/film montage). I remember being intrigued (and kind of turned on) by this song when I first heard it as my high school years came to an end and headed off to college. Sung by the oh-so-hot to an 18 yr. old Grace Slick - it recounts a three way relationship betwixt her and two of the band members.

'We love each other ... it's plain to see....so why can't we just go on as three...."

There is even a hint that while the guys might find all this embarrassing, and certainly unconventional, Grace was definitely down for and very frank about enjoying attention from both of her lovers.

So was it the steamy voice of Grace  Slick nearly 40 years ago and the Airplance  song"Triad" that buried this kinky ticking time bomb that now has me turned on by the concept of  sharing my Mistress with other lovers?

Stranger things happen.

And did anyone else have that same reaction to this song?

Jungle Girl In the Bush

Slave went on a little field trip yesterday, hauling my bike down to "Atomic City" to ride some nifty bike trails and tour the museums and some of the few left over historic sites from the days of the Manhattan Project.  It was a good way to disconnect from the anchor of the remote computer connection. It's helpful when you want to work remotely, but also an annoying reminder that you're not really on "vacation".

I was back in time for a refreshing late afternoon thunderstorm, which cooled things down considerably. Good weather for a pre-dinner nap. But it's not nearly as much fun to take a nap without Mistress to cuddle (and fiddle) with.

Later in the evening, I was surprised to see a text pop up from "Jungle Girl" who is out "in the bush" with the Dowager Domme and her sister, walking about with a guy with a large gun to view the beasts and vistas in Kenya. She forwarded some photos of giraffes, elephants, and posing with a cute baby Rhino.

I didn't ask where Mommy Rhino was, which would have been some concern, I would think.

The text conversation quickly turned to "what's new", then to Brexit, Donald Trump gloating about Brexit, and the fact that some guy from the Financial Times was there explaining it all to them.

When you have this whole cuckold thing fueling your fantasy life, Slave's thoughts immediately went there - conjuring up some Brit-twit with a snooty Downton Abby accent explaining to Mistress how disconnecting from the EU would naturally allow the restoration of Her Majesty's Empire. Rule Britania!

Sadly, this fantasy immediately fell flat. It's hard (at least for me) to be sexually intimidated by some guy who would rather grovel at the feet of a Mary Crawley type, or jerk off to the memory of being paddled by his prep school  Head Master,  than reduce my wife to a quivering, wanton slut begging for the right to suck his upper-crust cock.

So when it came time to follow Mistress instructions last night - and send her a photo of her slave's eager organ - I abandoned Mr. FT and resorted to mental images of Mistress being sexually enslaved in a more traditional "Jungle Girl" sort of  way, whether being involuntarily transported down river :

Or languishing in chains:

For those of you with tentacle fantasies, I suppose there is this option.

All of those were more suitably fuel for my imagination than Mistress falling under the spell of some "Brexpert"thinking that  boring her with his "Brexpertise"on the benefits of leaving the common market and the devaluation of the pound.

I did ask Mistress if there were opportunities for any flirting out in the bush. She was a little vague. "Some flirting slave.... but it's hard with our sleeping arrangements".   She sent me a photo of a rather luxe looking tent, on a platform, that she was sharing with her party.

"We heard lions last night outside the tent, but there are guys with guns patrolling the grounds."

Hopefully Mistress comes back before being devoured.

Oops.

Mistress (aka Jungle Girl) phoned me yesterday from Nairobi. 

Seriously.  

Those of you who've seen the movie "Eye in the Sky", understand my trepidation, what with all those nasty terrorists chilling in the Somalian refugee camps in that town. 

"Watch out for drones, Mistress."

She seemed unconcerned, describing her visit to the home of Karen Blixen, (the heroine in Out of Africa) near the hotel she was staying at in what sounded like a less scary neighborhood about 17 miles from the city centre.

From there she was heading out to some sort of rustic camp for several safari days.

"They say no internet connection there, slave....so I will be off the grid for maybe three days."

It certainly will be strange to be that out of touch with her. 

Left to my own lonely devices, I could at least cling to the daily regime she requires of me (fueled by some of the helpful suggestions of cuckold fiction by you devoted readers). After  some work via computer and conference call, some "field slave" duties on our roof and in the yard, and after "taking care of business", I headed out to a local watering hole for some music and a few beverages.

But first I wriggled my "junk" into my cock cage, and snapped a photo transmitted to Mistress via "snap chat".  Of course, the reason why snap chat has become the social media tool of choice for "sexting" is that (in theory) the photos disappear after a few seconds, and can't be used to ruin a "sexters" professional career, marriage, or reputation. 

But that assumes that the person viewing the photo checks it out in privacy, doesn't it?

As I was sitting at the bar last night, sipping an IPA and listening to a local troubadour, I got a text message from Mistress, who was waking up in Nairobi and preparing to leave for her safari "camp":

May Day

Received latest cock cage

Opened

Then realized mom was over my shoulder!

Heading out soon.

Great to hear your voice slave.

Love and miss you.

I'm certainly hoping that the Dowager Domme did not get a close and comprehending view of my locked up equipment. If so, what do you think her reaction might be?

Mistress In the Mist

Not long after I posted my sad appeal for whack-off fuel yesterday, I heard from Mistress via viber.
"Sorry I didn't call yesterday evening slave, but it was a harrowing day, and we were all just exhausted."

She described a 17 mile trek through the jungle, with porters hacking a path through the vines with their machetes, and having to carry the Dowager Domme and the Princess part of the way along a steep, muddy path to their destination: a community of highland gorillas. The picture on the left is one that Mistress took with her I-phone and texted me yesterday. Mistress described a scene where her small party of tourists sat amidst a frolicing collection of mothers and children, including one mom who approached close enough to touch and smell Mistress's hair.

Yikes.

By the time we talked, Mistress was back from a 2nd jaunt, less rigorous, to visit with another extended family of gorillas, and was lounging about the rustic "lodge" where they were staying. with a little relaxation time, I had to ask if there was any flirting going on.

"Sort of slave.... there is this cardiologist from Montana, a little younger than you, who was on the trail with us.  You could say there was some flirting going on.... but not much time or space to take it beyond some flirtatious banter...."

I texted with one of out daughter's later in the morning. She was wondering if I had heard from "Jungle Girl". "Hope she doesn't get carried away by some gorilla", she snarked. Of course, that got slave's imagination going. There was this scenario to consider:



Or this one:



But I suspect even a 600 lb. silverback would respond to Mistress's more Domme-ish personality, resulting in the following scenario:

In Need of Hot Cuckold Fiction.

There's been no word from Mistress since she departed from Kigali at around 3 am on Monday morning. She was headed by jeep for a rendezvous in the bush with a gang of high mountain gorillas.  I am assuming there is no viable  internet connection at the "lodge" they are at for two nights. Someone would get in touch with me if there was a real problem, right?

When we last talked, she described coming down to breakfast on Sunday without her entourage, and the male tourists giving her the once over as the hot and (apparently) solo babe at hotel.  But none had a chance to chat her up once the Dowager Domme arrived to spoil the potential fun.

Speaking of fun, Slave's been combining some remote work, bike rides,  and a punch list of chores here in the high desert, where it's been unusually hot for the first week of summer.  I even took a field trip to the local land fill, dropping off some old mattresses. Nothing like a dusty landfill on a hot high desert day.

It's still pre-dawn here now, but the full summer solstice moon is lighting the landscape in a continuous twilight.

And, of course, I've followed instructions to the tee. What would you expect from a devoted slave? Last night I went out to here some local artists channeling the Allman Brothers. As required, I wriggled into my cage, and made sure to take a snap chat photo to clog Mistress's inbox when she finally gets back on the grid. When I got home, a little bleary eyed I suppose, I had a brief panic when the key did not seem to fit the lock.  Could Mistress have played a trick on me?   Had I packed the wrong key?  That would have made for a very long hiatus from Mistress.  Fortunately, I had simply screwed up when trying the insert the key, and all popped out safe and sound.

I also followed Mistress's directive and made sure to discharge my pent up masculine juices. Her thinking appears to be that slave does not misbehave when he has regular "relief" through a regular "purge". While some may disagree (I'm thinking about you Diane), Mistress is always right. Right?

Of course, when left to my own devices, sometimes it's necessary to have something to stimulate my imagination. When it comes to pump priming, I respond better to words than images. (Now that must me a big surprise to our regular readers.

Of course, the internet has plenty of story sites to pick from.  And with a kindle handy, the potential for downloaded books and stories is also there.  On the ride west, I resorted to listening to  podcasts to keep my brain alive across the prairie, shadowing the Santa Fe trail. An old favorite is something called the Kiss Me Quick POdcast, a series narrated by the smart and funny Rose Caraway, assisted by her producer husband. Some of the stories are sexy, some are funny, some I just don't get, but all are read with wit and verve. As Rose says, this is hand's free fuel for your sexual imagination. Well, at least one hand free. The podcast is worth a listen if only for Rose's sexy, insouciant 'tude.

Rose also promotes written and "audible" anthologies of stories by her and her coterie of smutty (mostly) lady erotica authors available at Amazon. When listening to her podcast patter Saturday night, I was amused to here her promoting a new collection exploring the cuckold "fantasy" which she described as "very hot and trendy right now " in the world of erotica.  Curious, I downloaded her collection Tonight She's Yours, figuring it would be helpful fuel for my imagination when I was confronted with the unenviable task of meeting Mistress's rigorous masturbatory demands.

Yesterday afternoon I ran through some of the tales of cuckolding - they seem to follow what have become cliches of the genre,  written by conventional lady erotica authors who seem not to get the underlying psychological elements that fuel the cuckolding life that some of us enjoy and write about in sexblogland.

The usual cuckolding suspects are rounded up: insatiable wives drooling over the large , thick and throbbing cocks of the burly "bulls" (several of them black, of course), who want to fill their slutty holes. The pathetic hubby watches as he is tied to a hotel room chair, denied the chance to choke his scrawny chicken. There are no cock cages, let alone husbands consigned to wife's undies.

One writer tosses in a little historic verisimilitude, creating a European refugee couple in post WWII Europe who trade sexual favors for food from a young American GI on an overnight train.  But despite the intriguing historic context, the whole arrangement seemed more pathetic and transactional than hot.

Overall, slave was underwhelmed, and still in need of intellectual stimulus to get get the pump primed to follow Mistress's orders. These stories were more rote than intriguing. I suppose you can't expect writers who don't "get" the fantasy to write about it in an engaging way. It made me think that I should take a shot at a little fiction of my own. Or, being essentially lazy, ask my readers for some recommendations:

Have any suggestions of web sites or books that will help old Mick fulfill Mistress's orders this week?

What News from Jungle Girl?

Mistress is off to East Africa with her mother, the Dowager Domme, and her sister, who we sometimes refer to as the "Princess" because of a rather entitled demeanor. Their more than 24 hour trip sent them over some of the scariest air space in the world (Iraq, Syria, Egypt), changing planes on one of those creepy desert kingdoms, then a stop in Entebbe where they picked up another plane to Rwanda.

It did not take slave much longer to drive the 1300 miles to our southwest hideaway, where the air is cool and clean this morning. Unlike some of you suckers in Arizona, the 7000 ft. altitude here keeps things cool in the summer.

Mistress and I were able to talk via viber on Friday night and Saturday afternoon my time, then again after midnight last night when I ended my caffeine fueled drive.

She was curious about whether I had yet taken advantage of my right / directive to "self abuse" on a daily basis.

"Not yet Mistress. I've been driving. You don't want me to stroke and drive do you?"

"No slave.... texting me is bad enough."

When we talked yesterday afternoon as I drove across a flat, hot, but tornado free Kansas, she was describing the scene: a luxe hotel in Kigari, where guests were gathered at a poolside bar. I could hear what sounded like an Afro Beat lounge act playing in the background.

"Are your mother and sister already in bed, Mistress?"

"Yes, slave.... I told them I would be up in a while, after I talked to you...."

"Any guys flirting with you?"

"There were two guys who tried to chat me up when I swam laps this afternoon, slave...."

If your wife has "permission", or on our case a contractual right, to fuck around, then exotic travel comes with opportunities to do more than just snap photos of cute animals and stunning vistas.

So as I dropped off to sleep last night, it was not hard to conjure images of Mistress lingering at that bar last night and peaking the interests of other tourists, or maybe some exotic locals intrigued by the allures of this lone American female with the long dark hair, dark complexion, and seductive curves.

And once Mistress begins her trek into the bush, she is bound to make a very sexy jungle girl. don't you think?

But she should be careful out there.  There could be some evil poachers, or rugged tour guides who might have some kinky proclivities that would be happy to take advantage of a shapely American tourist who wanders off alone into the jungle.

I just hope they take pictures and make sure to leave them on her I-phone.

In the meantime, I think I have plenty of mental fuel in reserve for when I take matters into my own hands later today.  But first I'd better run the weed eater and go for a bike ride to knock my own kinks out after all those hours on my aging ass and behind the wheel.

Mistress's Parting Instructions

Mistress headed off yesterday afternoon on her African adventure, demonstrating a surprising skill at  compact packing. When she doesn't have her slave / bearer with her, she somehow figures how to restrict the quantity of shoes, jewelry and tank tops she carries for a two week journey.

Naturally, I drove her to the airport, and our parting at the curb was both passionate and melancholy. It's been a year since she's been gone so long, and my bed will be very sad and lonely without her. It sure was last night.

She did text me this am from the Philadelphia airport before boarding a flight to Dowha to clarify the instructions we had discussed over the last week:

"Forgot to tell you the rules.
1) "touch" once a day beginning Saturday,
2)cage when you go out.
3)send pics of both

So I better document my compliance.

Of course, Slave confirmed his agreement to  these rather permissive and generous rules. She is certainly a benificent Mistress when it comes to the daily right to discharge my "natural juices". And wearing the cock cage for trips away from our SW hideaway is hardly a burden. I suppose it could be much worse. She might have hired a "Slavesitter" to keep me on the straight and narrow while she is gone.

Road Tripping Mistress

Mistress was on a brief business overnight road trip Tuesday night, leaving slave to his own pathetic devices.

When she called before bedtime, from a holiday inn in some small, rusting river town to the southeast of here, she mentioned that the hotel was packed with golfers for some local tournament.

"I bet you could get some action at the bar, Mistress...."

"No doubt, slave... but I already have one golfer side-dish (Jay).... and the my clients are probably around too. Don't want to scandalize them, slave...."

Mistress will be back tonight, but the bad news is that she leaves again on Thursday afternoon for a two week trip with her mother, the Dowager Domme, and her "princess" sister. They are headed to the Dark Continent. It will be a real adventure. Quite frankly, slave is a little nervous about the safety of his Mistress in the bush of seemingly backwater countries in West Africa.

But Mistress's trip does raise the question of protocols for her slave while left alone here in the land of the AK-47. After I finish work on Friday, I intend to jump in the car and head west to our SW hideaway for about 10 days. There are some chores to do, and Mistress seems more confident that I won't get "into trouble" when out in the high desert rather than on the mean streets of River City.

And what about the cage?

Mistress knows it would be impractical to put me on lock down for the duration of her trip. It would foreclose exercise for one.

"But I want you to bring the cage and wear it when you go out at night.  And I want photos, slave."

I guess we will be using that snapchat app our daughters introduced us to.

Trumped Up Charges

Mistress  "threatened" to give her slave some strap-on action Saturday morning when the dust settled from our more conventional wake-up sex.

"I think you need a good ass-fucking this afternoon, slave...." was the way I recall her expressing her intentions.

"At your wish, Mistress."

 But first there was some time for me to spend with my cute grand-kids, and for both of us to soak up some rays at our local swim club.

By 4 pm we were home, and ready for a late afternoon siesta. But when we woke, Mistress was determined to "make good her threat" before we headed to a movie up the street.

"Get our my supplies, slave."

I knew what that meant, so slave went about the task of retrieving her harness, it's phallic accessory and the lube. I also pulled out the aneros, which she likes me to insert after she's "hard her way" with me.

Supplies assembled, I reported to her in the bedroom.

"But where's the riding crop, slave?"

Oops. I guess she wasn't going to do a "half-assed" job this afternoon.

"Did I do something wrong, Mistress?"

I thought I'd been a good slave this week.

"Just get it while I think up some trumped up charges....."

"Yes, Mistress."

Reporting back, crop in hand, and without being told, I assumed the position on our bed. Ass up, pillow under my hips.

"Slave, you've been good this week. But these are to remind you to behave while I'm away."

(Mistress is heading on a trip with the Dowager Domme and her sister on Thursday evening).

She lit into my bottom with about 8 solid but not punishing strokes. I've found that they are more tolerable if I vocally express the ouchy pain they induce. So our two cats got an earful as I moaned in response to each one.

"There now, slave. Hopefully you've learned your lesson in advance and will be on the straight and narrow while I'm gone!"

Pain was soon turned to pleasure for both of us as Mistress deployed her strap-on. Her aim was true and she was soon pumping into me until her powerful thrusts turned me to putty until she exhausted herself in what appeared to be her own impressive cum.

Once we both caught our breaths, slave was allowed to take my own pleasure a more conventional way, with the aneros providing a little extra incentive.

And not once did slave exclaim "but Mistress, I've been framed!"

A Cautionary Cock Cage Tale

Mistress was back by Tuesday evening after her brief road trip. Her slave was more than happy to have her back, and had chastely waited for the opportunity to discharge my bodily fluids the old fashioned way. Since then we’ve had a hectic week here in River City, with a very busy workload. Though we’ve made sure not to lose track of our prime directive: making sure Mistress has at least 2 cums daily.  Friday started out with her ahead of the curve, after some oral worship and cock riding kicked off the day.

Over at A Married Sissy, I’ve noticed that terri received an early Father’s Day Gift: a new cock cage called the “Holy Trainer”. He claims it’s more comfortable than his older devices, and I must say it sounds intriguing. The ones I have are not particularly cozy, and can pinch and abrade after only a few hours of  wear. Overnights can be particularly painful. I’m wondering if I should suggest to Mistress that we try this upgrade, though it could result in more cage time for slave.  Terri, have you tried riding a bike with it on? That would be the ultimate test.

But there was something in the news yesterday that caught my eye, and made me want to warn the rest of you to be particularly careful when caged:

Apparently a couple practicing male chastity had a little too much to drink down near Knoxville, TN lately, getting the male partner into a “jam”. Having failed the field sobriety test, our hapless hero had a special request for accommodation before the cuffs were slapped on and he was hauled to the local jail:

 Upon being taken into custody, Eidam (seen above) told Sergeant Dennis Smith that “he would need a key from the vehicle he was operating.” Eidam, Smith added, then “went on to explain the key fit a chastity belt that was attached to his penis.”

Eidam told Smith that there were two keys for the chastity belt. One, he said, was on the key chain in his Toyota Tundra. The second key was on a necklace worn by Rebecka Alexander, Eidam’s girlfriend. Pictured at left, Alexander, 44, was in the car’s passenger seat and was “highly intoxicated,” according to a criminal complaint.

A second cop retrieved the key from Eidam’s vehicle and subsequently gave it to personnel at the Anderson County lockup. Sadly, the court filing does not chronicle how jailers handled Eidam’s chastity belt, nor is the device further described.

Here is a photo of the tipsy Mistress.

The report  (Drunk Driver Wearing Chastity Device) fails to disclose the officers’ reaction to this unusual disclosure, though my guess is they got a chuckle at Mr. Eidam’s expense. But it does detail his outfit for the evening:

In addition to the chastity belt, Curtiss Eidam, 35, was wearing a white skirt, "white and pink leggings," and black high heel shoes, a police report notes. The 5' 9", 230-pound Eidam also had a ribbon tied in his goatee, according to WYSH.

It’s not clear whether the ribbon in his goatee matched the pink leggings, or if the high heel shoes had those nifty locking straps that some Dom / Domme’s prefer. And I’m sure Diane would raise her eyebrow and sneer about the thought of letting a caged companion keep a spare key on his key chain. What sort of chastity is that?

Regardless, I think this requires all of you caged cuckolds and keyholding Dommes  to keep in mind that drinking and cock cages don’t necessarily mix, unless there’s a designated chaste cuckold to drive home after a night on the town.

Lonely Bed Give Time to Answer Reader Question.

Mistress was up early this morning and off on an overnight business trip. Sadly, I'm here alone in our bed, and she doesn't even have a handy side-dish to keep hers warm.  I spent the evening visiting my cute grandkids, getting my ass kicked in a game of stratego with a 10 yr. old, and bickering on facebook over the endless Presidential election campaign.

I suspect I will hear from Mistress before I drift off to sleep.  But in the meantime, slave is following the "no touch" rule. There was not time for sex this morning, so it may  be a whole 60 hours or more between cums for Mistress and slave.  Not a good way to kick off June!

So with nothing to report on, why not rely on an old blogging contrivance: answering reader questions.  Yesterday Lapsed Catholic Wife (LCW) asked why Mistress recounting her Saturday night nookie with Jay made me horny:

"is it the thought of another satisfying the Mistress?  Or is it the sex act itself?  Does Jealousy every rear it's head?"

LCW, I've scratched my head about that more than a few times. The whole cuckold turn on is a real mystery, and, quite frankly it never even occurred to me as a hot concept until I was writing up our contract, found a few forms on line, and came upon the notion that the Mistress could take other lovers as a matter of contractual right. Here's the language from our contract (which is posted to the right this text):

4. Mistress has the right to engage in other relationships with men or women, of whatever nature, without obtaining additional consent from the Slave. Such relationships may include “vanilla” relationships, her taking or training of additional slaves, or her submission to other men or women.

4. Mistress has the right to disclose to any person her status as the Owner of Slave and the terms of this contract.

I did a whole blog on this subject back in 2010 that keyed off a Psychology article on the subject: So What's This Cuckold Stuff Really About.

But in reviewing that ancient post, our experience these last few years requires an update:

1) The "sperm competition" referenced in that article is part of the thrill.  It makes you "up your game" when Mistress describes a hot encounter with a side dish, or even if she sees some guy who turns her on, but has to admire him from afar.

2) The masochistic / humiliation thing also is a potential turn on for me. Oddly, all of the men Mistress has been involved with since we signed our contract have been almost too respectful to old Mick. Maybe it's my stature (I am nearly 6 ft. and hardly skinny); maybe it's my age and seeming gravitas.  Whatever, all the guys I have met seem to go out of their way to be courteous and respectful even as they have their way with my wife. I confess It would be pretty hot to have one who taunted me with his privilege. 

3) Finally, at least so far jealousy has not entered the picture. Maybe part of it is my age, or experience, or my trust in Molly, but I've never felt threatened and (therefore) jealous of any of Mistress's lovers. Oddly, if one came a long who made me feel threatened and jealous, that would probably make things all the hotter.

Yeah, call me crazy.

Hope that answers your question LCW. 

 

Two Lovers and a Funeral

Mistress had a busy Saturday.

It started the way a typical Saturday does at the UCTMW World HQ. Slave wakes early, but at the appointed hour (around 7:30 am) I went back up to the marital bed for some worship and wake-up love making. Nothing flashy, but quite fulfilling. (Certainly more fulfilling than those of you who are stuck in those infernal chastity devices for weeks at a time!).

We took a bike ride in the neighborhood after the dust settled in our bed, then had a sad obligation to fulfill : a memorial service and reception in honor of an old friend, a little younger than me, who had passed away a few weeks ago. It was a sad, but also joyous occasion as we remembered the life of a true bob vivant, who enjoyed entertaining his friends and colleagues at pool side in the summer months. I suspect I've written here about afternoons or evenings enjoying his food, beverage (many) and gathered friends on sultry summer days here in River City. He would always tease Mistress that her deep tan was found in a tanning booth. She always insisted it was quite natural. And, of course, Mistress was always right.

Mistress was dressed as a sexy mourner, in a black summer dress with a hemline that gave us all a nice view of her muscular legs. I suspect she was a pleasant distraction to some of the older men there to mourn the passing of our friend. And don't you like those semi-kinky shoes?

We were home by mid-afternoon, and while there was some talk about Mistress deploying her strap-on, the mood of the day, and the tequila sipped by both of us at the reception had both of us in the mood for a nap.

When we woke at around 4:30 pm, there was a little time left for slave to worship Mistress, giving her a little starter cum before her next engagement: a rare Saturday night out with her lover Jay. I was having dinner with my sister, daughter and cute grandkids. That gave Mistress a chance to schedule  a "date" with her side-dish.

Not surprisingly, I was home earlier than Mistress. She found me in bed when she got home at around 11 pm.

"Jay wanted me to spend the night slave, but you know I like to wake up in bed on Sunday morning's with my slave by my side...."

And I was happy to have her back.

Mistress only gave me a brief after action report.

"We had dinner out. and then some pretty hot sex back at his house, slave.....lots of cock riding and cock sucking....."

I knew that meant Mistress had more than her fair share of cums for the day.

"Does that make you horny slave...."

"I can't deny it Mistress....."

"Well you'll just have to wait until the morning.... I think my body is done for the day."

Fair enough.  I'm personally looking forward to some more details as I worship this morning.

Weekend Planning

The bad part about those 3 day holiday weekends is that when Tuesday comes around the work has piled up turning the days left in the week into a bit of a harried cluster fuck. The good part is that the end of the day comes blurringly fast!  Heck, it's Friday already!

Slave's sister is in town this weekend to visit my fading mother.  I'll be spending Saturday night entertaining my sister.  But Mistress has the night off from hanging with an in-law.

She and her lover Jay haven't had much quality time together lately. He's had more work travel and some daunting child care issues to deal with. But there is hope for a dinner out together Saturday while I'm with my sister. So maybe Mistress will finally get a chance for some extra-curricular nookie after a long dry spell?  We've been getting lots of sex on our own these last few weeks. But every good Mistress deserves a little variety, right?

Stay tuned.

Now I'd better get upstairs and provide the services that are expected of me.

The Deterrent Effect

We had a wonderfully low key 3 day weekend. Just enough family time.  Plenty of time together, particularly in bed.  My tongue got a lot of action, and I even broke out Mistress's favorite power tool Monday morning for a memorable Memorial Day morning here at the UCTMW World HQ.

But we were back at it yesterday, me chained to my downtown desk, and Mistress balancing a variety of clients and spending too much time on the highway.  You pay for those 3 day weekends on Tuesdays.

Making things worse,  we had yet another political event at the end of the workday, at a palatial home in our old neighborhood. After the trouble for my tender ass that arose from last Monday's political event, I would have suggested that we simply send our check in the mail and beg off the soggy finger food, plastic wine glasses and cheese trays. But Mistress and the Dowager Domme for "hosts" of this event, so it would be uncool to take a pass.

But slave was fortunate. It was an older crowd of the usual suspects. There were no women who Mistress could - even in her wildest imagination - speculate that her slave was "flirting" with, or otherwise think were interested in the pleasure of my charming company. If anything, the ladies were of the angry feminist generation who look disdainfully at some guy known for not drinking the Clintonian Cool-Aid. Mistress was far and away the hotest chick on the block last night, in a form fitting black dress that ended above the knees. Yum.

The downside was that the Dowager Domme was wearing another pair of kinky black shoes and slave was unable to come up with a good excuse to snap of surreptitious photo.

 Bottom line:  Slave did not earn anymore stokes from Mistress's riding crop, at least as far as I can tell. And to make sure the evening ended with me in Mistress's good graces, I made sure to offer some ardent worship at the end of the night.

I guess this just shows that Saturday's cropping and pegging had the desired deterrent effect!