Living Under the New Regime

 Here at our SW Hideaway Mistress and slave have been readjusting to life out of the gloom of northern Germany. Sun screen and shades are critical. The ski hill has beckoned, though it seems the east coast is getting more snow than here in the Sangre de Christo Mountains. 

Mistress has followed up on her threat of more cage time to correct her slave's previously poor attitude. Though some lines have been drawn.  After a day of trying to ski with a cage in place, a pain inducing experience, Mistress adjusted her expectations. 

"You look very stiff skiing with that on, Slave...."

It definitely impacts one's flexibility as it pinches and chafes with each turn.

So the rule now requires cage time whenever we (or I) leave the house, other than for exercise or skiing. 

 Yes, I know. I am a very pampered house slave.  Hard to figure how folks serve long term sentences in chastity.

Over the weekend, we went out with friends, and for some two-step dancing, with slave caged.  It gave me a little buzz to sit next to Mistress - who had worn a short black dress and her "peek-a-boo" black tights - knowing that it would be up to her to decide when (or whether) to use the little key she had sequestered to free her work-a-day cock. Speculating about whether that guy at another table in a cowboy hat and boots might ask Mistress to dance, or whether she might flirt a bit with a tall, dark stranger sent some blood flowing in the wrong direction.  

Ouch.

Mistress also confessed to some perverse delight in knowing that her husband was caged up as we sat with our unknowing friends, or boot scooted across the dance floor. 

When we got home on Saturday night , Mistress headed to bed, and slave did a little kitchen cleanup while  watching the end of a football game. When I finally got back to the bedroom, the lights were out, Mistress was in the early stages of slumber. No way I was going to wake her and bring up the subject of my locked cock. 

So I settled into bed, nodding off, still tightly locked. Some hour or two later I was rudely awakened by our devoted cat, who leaped up onto my prone lap, looking for some middle of the night strokes around her neck and back.  A routine occurrence.  But now she was pacing across my caged crotch.  

Double ouch!

In the morning, after I made her coffee, I reminded Mistress that she had left me locked through the night.

"Oops.  Poor slave. I guess you should have come to bed sooner.  I snooze, you lose."

"Even worse, kitty jumped on me and decided to poke my cage with those little paws."

She just snickered. "That's my kitty!"

A chip off her Mistress's block. 

New Year. New Rules.

 Happy New Year to all of our dozens (at least) of UCTMW followers.  Mistress and slave just returned from 3 weeks "over the pond" visiting our prodigal daughter in the cold, dark and damp of northern Europe.  Thank goodness for those vibrant Christmas markets, which light the darkness and kept us and bundled up the masses  fueled with holiday cheer, including lots of Gluwein and Flammelachs. 

Unfortunately for slave (depending on your point), Mistress was not pleased with her slave, based on some  misfeasance on my part that will not be detailed here. Suffice it to say, one of Mistress's new year's resolutions is a much firmer hand for her devoted but misbehaving slave upon our return to the south west hideaway. 

"You're going back in the cage, slave when we get back." 

"Yes, Mistress." 

In fact, I was faulted for not anticipating her desires, as a long term slave should, by failing to pack one.

The absence of a cage did not deter Mistress from improvising some appropriate discipline on the fly.  "Fortunately" the apartments we spent most of our trip in were suitably equipped. 

What I learned over the last three weeks was that: 1) wooden spoons repeatedly applied to an aging males's naked ass can sting like BeJesus; and 2) the heavier the spoon, the more painful the sting. I suppose I should have known that from my high school physics class, but the scientific method of experimentation  always works best.  Sadly, we have some solid wooden spoons here at our SW hideaway.  Apparently they have more uses than making a creamy risotto.

Those nearly daily thrashings reminded slave of his place in the UCTMW household, and also provided some accelerant for our traditional wake up sex sessions. 

Now that we are finally home, Mistress also has her trusty riding crops to rely upon.  And slave better dust off a cock cage before we head to the ski hill this morning.