82 hours, 36 minutes.....

Yes, I know, I am a pampered house Slave.... but for me that may have been the longest wait from one cum to the next since the days back in the Dubya era when Slave was commuting back and forth from River City to Orlando.

 ( I am sure Tammy at All Mine and Sissy at Ms. Marie routinely have their needs deferred much longer than 82 hours and 36 minutes..., so my whining is probably a little pathetic. )

So by the time I got home with the sullen teen last night from our trip to DC .... around 8:30 pm post rapture eastern daylight savings time, Slave was more than a little anxious to bid teens good night and drop to my knees for some worship.

It was lovely to savor the taste and texture I had missed for so many days.

"Can you tell I went for a brisk walk, and baked in the sun a today, Slave?"

I think all that escaped my lips, so busy were they, was something like

"Ummmyummmmm."

Plans to do a little evening Switch Time were quickly shelved for some more conventional love making once my worship was completed.

And Mistress added to Slave's desperation when she instructed me to insert my "device", the little white aneros.

"I know you've been traveling Slave, so let's make sure my cock is extra hard for me."

"I don't think that will be a problem, Mistress."

And of course it wasn't. 

But Slave slept late this morning, so I am going to leave the rest to your imagination, in order to  make sure I get a second helping before it's off to work this Monday morning.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Today is the day that all of us who descend from the great Irish Diaspora celebrate our common heritage, usually by making fools of ourselves. And since we have  derived our secret identities here at UCTMW from the Great Irish freedom fighter, Michael Collins, it’s only fair to pay tribute to him on this day. (‘Tis a shame there are no half naked photos of him on Google Images since this is a Thursday.)

Of course in his day, Mr. Collins would have been branded a terrorist by the Brits who occupied that Fair Isle, and who used every tool available to suppress the freedom, religion and even language of their subjects. But then again, one could fairly argue that from Oliver Cromwell to the Black and Tans, the Anglo-Saxon occupiers of Eire were also quite accomplished at terrorizing as a tool of oppression.

Fortunately, the days of tit for tat violence seems to be coming to an end in Ireland. So tonight, when I join with a band of males at a grand formal dinner, wearing my Tux, and we all sing the Soldier’s Song, we won’t need to worry about collecting money to send guns and explosives to our comrades across the Sea, the way Congressman Peter King did not so long ago.

Now he can just point the finger at other alleged enablers of terrorism.

But then, you didn’t come here for a political lecture, did you? And I do have some steamy stuff to share … so shall we get on with it….

We left off yesterday with our dear beloved CEO in the midst of an O-embargo, in preparation for a training session with our WC today. But the dear girl was more than merciful to her loving slave.

After slipping on the hard steel ring that forms the base for my cage, I crept upstairs, not meaning to wake her before I took my morning shower. She had planned a sleep in, then a bike ride, before heading to work.

But when I came out of the shower, Mistress was awake, anxious to read the blog. I teased her a bit with my tongue as she was reading – I mean it’s hard to break an addiction – but was careful not to let her break her obligation to her trainer’s regime.

When she was done reading, I was about to get up and dress for work, but she had other ideas.

“Why don’t you make love to me Slave….”

“But Mistress, we don’t want to break the rules?”

“Just don’t let me come….”

Well, she didn’t have to offer twice. While it’s against my better impulses, I must say I was pretty darned horny for her. Suffice it to say that I proceeded carefully, if lustily, and the result was quite satisfying. For me, that is….

And it certainly improved the quality of my day, once that cage was locked and Mistress sent me off to work.

Of course, Mistress’s day was a little more frustrating. And it wasn’t helped by some taunting and teasing from her WC/PT. She shared with me an email of instructions he sent her for receipt yesterday morning which, shall we say, speaks for itself:


“Good Morning Molly,

Every time you go to the bathroom today you are to rub your clit.

Of course you are expressly forbidden to orgasm, but I want you to get close.

Don’t accidentally go too far…

Or…a very special punishment awaits you.

I can assure you that you do not want this punishment.

But my cock is getting hard thinking about giving you that particular punishment.

I get so hot thinking about dominating you.

I would put you in a chastity device often and for long periods.

You would become very adept at pleasuring me with your mouth and your ass.

I love it when you are horny and needy…and not allowed to orgasm on my orders.

My cock is rock hard and I’m going upstairs to jack it off.

I would also straddle you and jack off all over your tits and neck and face.

And then you would suck my cock to get the last bit of cum out of it

And lick it clean…slave.

I love the power to control your orgasms Molly.

It is fucking HOT!!!!

Now I am going to relieve myself…my cock is very stiff and big and dripping from writing this post

Too bad you can’t cum till tomorrow…

Your master, M”

After she forwarded this little incendiary message, for posting to share with you, I was …. Well …. Impressed.

“Wow. That’s pretty hot, Mistress.”

“It is…. And he even used spell check….”

“So did you follow his orders….”

“I did Slave….”

“And did that frustrate you….”

“Oh yes, Slave…. It did.”

In fact, I noticed her little fidgets in bed last night. The tell tale squirm that Mistress was smoldering. I actually felt sorry for her , so much so that I passed on the offer to fuck her last night… figuring that I could share some of her pain. But if she offers again this morning, I’m not so sure I can resist the temptation.

After all, it will be a long day. And Slave will be caged again. I suspect that I will be the only one of the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick – about 1500 of us – who will have a cock cage on under his tuxedo. But then again, one never knows.

When Mistress talked to M yesterday he reminded her of the state of things last St. Patrick’s Day…. While I was at this dinner, Mistress was off to one of her first “dates” with the other M, her starter Dom. You can see my little story on it here.

Times have changed over that year…. Today Mistress will have a different sort of date. And I suspect by the time M allows her to turn on the Hitachi, our beloved CEO will be rather focused.

Embargoed

It was a rainy day here in River City, and Mistress and Slave were pretty focused on work through the day.

Of course, there was some nice cozy wake up sex, beginning with my oral devotions as Mistress read my morning essay.

But then it was off to work. Mistress had worn those enticing peek-a-boo tights but, alas, there were no opportunities to partake of her juicy delights during the day. Instead, we seemed to be playing phone and text tag. And as it turned out, somehow I missed the choicest text of the day.

Apparently it came around 12:15, when I had my phone chime muted because I was in a meeting.  When we got home, before we were set to prepare dinner, She mentioned it.

“You know I’m on orgasm embargo after tonight, Slave….”

“Oh…. No…. You didn’t mention it….”

“I sent you a text …”

I thumbed through my text messages. Sure enough:

“On embargo after tonight, Slave.”

Maybe it’s good I missed it. I probably would have been left squirming in that desultory meeting at the thought of Mistress’s sullen frustration.

“Well it’s good to see your personal trainer subjecting you to a more rigorous regime, Mistress.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t worship you now….”

“I was waiting for you to offer, Slave….”

Soon she was reclining on our bed, her legs spread, black boots still on, allowing me access through the strategic opening in her tights.  From my vantage point on my knees I had a stimulating view of her magnificent body.  But soon I was hard at work, making sure that she had ample reserves of pleasure to carry her through her sad 36 hour embargo before a scheduled training session on Thursday morning.

“He says I should have the clothespins handy Slave…”

Helpfully, I showed her exactly where they could be found.

The girls and the visiting boyfriend were fed, and then we adjourned to our chambers.  Mistress was in the mood to watch a movie,  which she selected, and we lolled in bed, next to one another, amused by some surprisingly hot scenes involving Anne Hathaway seemingly naked, and the liberal distribution of Viagra.

About 2/3’s through Mistress decided it was time to stop watching and start participating….

“We can watch the rest of this tomorrow night, Slave….”

Bu now her hand was gripping my swollen cock. And my finger had wormed its way into her damp folds, probing for that special place that I knew would make her   quiver and whimper with need once properly manipulated.

It was the game we play when we want to see who can make the other one cry “mercy” first.

“I agree, Mistress…. We don’t want to miss our last opportunity before your embargo begins….”

“Well I suppose we could make love in the morning Slave…. I mean I won’t tell M if you don’t….”

She was squirming now, on the edge. And my cock was close to the meltdown point too…. But I was determined to win this little race…. And sure enough…. With just a few more deft touches from the very tip of my finger, Mistress was spasming against my hand, moaning her release, then releasing her grip on my cock, rolling back to let me fuck her properly.

“But that would be so wrong, Mistress…. We’re paying M that outrageous salary to act as your personal trainer…. Wouldn’t it be silly for you not to follow his prescribed regime?”

“I guess you're right, Slave….”

Her ragged breathing and the way her hips rose to meet me seemed a good sign that she was enjoying my eager thrusts into her.

“Plus I think it gets you all hot and bothered when M gets bossy with you, and controls when you come….”

I was getting close now myself….sliding side to side to make sure Mistress came again before I was begging for permission. I was determined to make sure she got her fill before that 36 hour period of denial began.

“I suppose it does Slave, just  a little…..”

Right. Just a little.

Well, I think you know how all of this ended.

After permission was granted, and gratefully taken, Slave and Mistress drifted off to sleep. But not before she reminded me of my responsibility this morning.

“I’m going to stay home a little later in the morning Slave…. Remember to wear your cage.”

So while Mistress is on lockdown, rest assured that her Slave is too.

A Contemplation on Journalistic "Ethics"

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A Contribution from the West Coast

Mistress is currently on an orgasm embargo, imposed by our Western Correspondent in anticipation of their date this morning. So that had both of us treading a little softly last night…..

Of course, it’s not that Mistress did not test her boundaries. As promised, I “topped her off” with some oral and cock-al stimulation yesterday before we headed to work.

But then Mistress announced she was wearing her peek-a-boo tights, with that cunning little opening between her thighs. “I’ll try to stop over for worship before my lunch appointment, Slave.”

But of course, I was very legalistic about this proposal.

“Wait… what about the embargo, Mistress? I thought you were cut off for 24 hours?”

I know, I probably shouldn’t question authority. But I wouldn’t want her to cross our Western Correspondent. It could make him even less productive. In this case the “Blue Flu” would take on a whole new meaning.

But I had an idea.

“Why don’t I text him, to see if it’s OK.”

“Go for it Slave…. But sometimes it takes him a while to get going. He is on Mountain Time.”

Now, in the meantime, there were other compelling developments.

The other day I posted a CM email from an interested East Coast Dom who told a rather sexy (if grammatically impaired) tale about his proposed debauch of the Lovely Molly while her Slave watched then “cleaned up” afterwards.

Out of the blue came an email the next day from a new blogger, a“gentleman” from the West Coast, who had an interesting proposition:

Greetings.
I read your latest blog post despite my slight disappointment when I realized the title referred to her mail in box, and well not.. suffice to say it was not the box I had in mind when I clicked on the link.
Regardless I read the email from east coast guy and my first thought was 'I could do better then that.' So I'd like to. This isn't a 'bid' for her, I hadn't thought much about it, however I would like her consent and yours before I write it. I haven't been following long so I don't know either of you too well but I still think I could write something enjoyable. Any kind of crib notes on your interests (or more importantly limits) would be helpful I'm sure. If not going in blind will be just as much fun.
-Will

Well who could say “No” to such a generous offer, particularly if it gave me food for blogging too?

Sure enough, just as we were headed to work yesterday, up pops a rather compelling tale, well written and….. I’ve gotta admit…. Very hot. Mistress scrolled through it on her I-phone as I drove her to her office. Those long legs, covered with her special black tights and boots, were stretched out onto the dash. And as she read…. Well there was something about her little squirms, her thighs ever so slightly moving against one another, that made her “interest” in this tale quite apparent.

When she put down her I-phone it was with a little gasp.

“What do you think, Mistress?”

“Hot, Slave…. Very hot.”

“His blog says he’s in law enforcement…. Sounds like he might be a police officer.”

“Hmmmm…. I kinda like cops.”


I emailed Will with our words of appreciation. And Mistress sent her own message of thanks. And we agreed he would post the tale on his blog, which I am linking here. Mick, Molly and Me

But here is a little “taste”:

The phone rings. Without thought you answered it “Collins residence.”
“Put your wife on the phone” answered back a commanding voice. A submissive inspired ripple rushes through your body.
“Yes Sir” is your trained reply. You could hear traffic from my side but no other clues. You we all had plans together later that night, hours from now, and thought I might be pushing it back. You found your Mistress in her office and handed the phone to her and whispered “It’s him.”
“Thank you slave” she took the phone from you and you could tell from the look on her face that she was just curious as you. She held the phone to her ear and turned away. You know she gets annoyed when you hover over her shoulder so you return to your chores, trying to put the phone call out of mind.
Hardly any time passes before your startled by her calling out for you. You were sure she’d be held up with me longer then that. You return to the office and find her absent until she called out again. You hope you wont be punished as you hurry to the voice calling from the bedroom. “Yes Mistress.”
“He’s rescheduled, we’re to be there in an hour.” Even the way she walked impressed you. Graceful and confident looking through the drawers and then the closet, at the same time you knew her well enough to know when she was on alert. She was like a deer who knew it’d fallen in the hunters sights. “Get my shower ready”
“Yes Mistress” You stepped into the bathroom and started the water, waiting a minute before checking it. After a few more adjustments you announce it’s ready. Her hand on your shoulder startles you.
“And don’t ever make me call for you twice again” you inhale slightly more then normal at the sight of her naked form as she steps under the water. Even watching her bathe is breathtaking in your eyes, “No of course not. Any special instructions tonight?”
“You’re to wear your device” she mentions casually while white suds follow the curves of her body from her breasts down to her ankles “and fetch our collars.” She looks at you while water slides down her body and gives you a rather stern look “Did you think I meant tomorrow slave?” You snap out of it and apologize.
“I’m sorry Mistress.” You turn from your goddess and go to the closet, moving aside the coats to reveal the section reserved for items hidden from potential casual observers. You open a box and start wondering what may be in store for you tonight if anything. You ran your finger over the cock cage and went to the bed. While putting it on you immediately hoped you’d be free of it later tonight. The pattern of water falling changed. You locked it in place and your terrycloth clad Mistress approaches. She reaches out and grips your locked up package to double check it, giving it a tug. “Mmm.. Good boy” You whimper softly because that’s all it takes to make you strain against the metal, and begin your discomfort. “Go wash up.”

The story gets even better from there, so make sure you go check it out. (It’s also listed in our blog roll). It seems we could have a Pacific Correspondent to add to the UCTMW World Media Group. Watch our Ruppert Murdoch!


So where were we…..


Yes…. Mistress was dropped off at her office, charged up for the day by Will’s story.

Her parting words as she slid out of the car were “Now don’t forget to ask M about worship, Slave….”

And once I was behind my desk, I texted M:

“Mistress wants to know if she can be worshiped at lunch time.”

I though about adding a phrase that “of course, I could just tease her a bit….” but that would have been so very wrong.


At around 11 am I got a curt response:

“OK”.

And I passed that on by text to Mistress:

“Good!”. Was her response.

Sure enough, Mistress arrived right around noon for her “treatment”.

AS I closed the door and pushed the chair against it, she mentioned talking to M on the way over.

“he says I am allowed to come one more time now, but he demands a picture, Slave.”

So before applying my lips ar cage.”

nd tongue to the task at hand, I knelt and took a photo of Mistress, legs spread, her hungry little lips all pink and delicious, poking out of that opening in her tights.

I texted the shot off to M with the comment “Mistress is grateful.”

And as I bent to my task, she seemed quite ready for me. I could swear she had not one, but two quick and satisfying cum’s before I was released from service.

“I hope he won’t object to that second one, Mistress.”

“Ooops.”

At home last night, I teased her a bit. and she even offerred to let me fuck her without her coming. But that seemed rather cruel. I elected to join in her embargo.

But the sad part (for me) is that mine will end up last longer.

“remember Slave, since I will be staying home later in the morning, you need to wear your cage….”

How could I forget?

HIbernating

It seems that as the winter of 2010-11 proceeds, Mistress and Slave have fallen into some rather lazy habits.

It snowed here again in River City yesterday. And the temperature has not popped above 28 or so since our return from our Western outpost about 12 days ago. That and the infernal early darkness has eliminated our proclivity for outdoor exercise when we get home from work.

So what happens?

We tend to burrow into our bed, and with laptops in hand, forage through all of our favorite blogs, spreading comments and sexual energy among you , only to delight in the waves of comments and sexual energy that come back our way.

Before this winter, Mistress was only an occasional blog reader. She would peruse something I figured might be of interest if I handed it to her. Or she might have her Slave find a particular entry if given special recommendation by our Western Correspondent.

No more.

Now Mistress is thrilling to the delight of a new entry that pops up on our blog roll, as if a little present has been discovered at the toe of her Christmas stocking (not the kind with the little cunning aperture, the red one hung from the chimney with care!)

And if she sees a particularly good one, she will send a text to our WC to make sure he is on it, lickity split. Well…. not exactly, but you get the metaphor.

Last night, after I had been allowed to help her peal away her clingy black tights, and kneel for her post work worship, Mistress suggested that we rest a bit before prepping dinner. And the first thing she did was pop open her laptop to see if there was anything new from you to read.

And sure enough, there was Suzanne, back from her trip with Jay, talking about her interview with Mistress Millicent, and getting home to Tammy, who has that unopened present that he is so curious about.

“Did you ever figure out why Tammy was being punished for something he put in those weekend blogs?”

“Uhhh…. No, Mistress.”

And there was Aisha, trying to figure out how to resolve the conflict between the scheduling demands of her new prospect, and her desire to carve out some time for Sunday Church. Mistress left her own comment about her thoughts on organized religion. And Aisha seemed to take them in good spirit.

Of course Mistress marveled at the evolving story of Kelly Red, Sin and their Big Bad Dom.

“There could be some real drama here, Slave…..”

“No doubt, Mistress….”

You get the picture. You have become our alternative universe. And you are so much more interesting than the daily demands and whines of our clients, colleagues or surly teens.

“Slave…. You need to ask our friends out there a question ….. do they feel the way I do these days…. That our sex blog friends are a lot more interesting that dealing with our “real” friends?”

“Consider it done, Mistress…..”

After dinner, Mistress caught up on some of the latest posts, and then tucked her lap top away…..

“Slave…. I think it’s time for sex…”

That reminded us both of some conversation on the way home from work.

“M and I are going to have a date Thursday morning, Slave…. Is that OK with you?”

Well of course it was OK. Mistress makes the call when and if she wants to have one of her hot phone sex sessions with our Western Correspondent. No doubt they need to catch up on editorial planning for the year to come, and what better way to do it than naked and prone, on their respective beds, with Mistress’s Hitachi and his special occasion cock fully engaged.

My only downside: I suspect that I will be required to wear my cage that day, since we will necessarily be driving in separate vehicles.

But then there was a twist, as I learned when M gave Mistress a call as we neared our home. Of course, I could only hear her half of the conversation.

“So you are imposing an embargo, M?”

Hmmmm. I had forgotten about this aspect of their planning. M likes Mistress nice and desperate before their dates. A small but compelling exercise of remote control. Just talking about it seemed to make Mistress all squirmy in her leather seat.

“And exactly how long an embargo….?”

“Slave, M says I can’t come after tomorrow morning….”

“Of course Mistress…. I will do my part in making sure you follow his instructions.”

Soon we were home. There was some fresh snow to shovel, so I embarked on that task, as Mistress lingered in the car to talk with M a bit longer. Further planning, no doubt to get Mistress all stoked for Thursday morning.

Which gets me back to bed with her last night.

“I guess we need to get you a few more orgasms before the embargo begins, Mistress….”

“That would be nice, Slave….”

As we proceeded, Mistress seemed particularly desperate and wanton. It seemed she came twice as my fingers burrowed between her legs, and her fingers gripped and worked on my cock, waiting her permission to fuck her properly.

And there were more for her, as I fucked her from above, pausing from time to time to focus attention on her nipples, or to strum her clit with a finger or two as I slowly slid in and out of her velvety folds.

Was her mind focused on M’s sentence? The 24 hours of denial she would soon be serving.

Poor dear.

In any event, she seemed to get her money’s worth from her Slave’s efforts, before giving me permission to come.

And, my homework now done, soon I will slip upstairs, to “top her off”, before her sad sentence commences.

Quarantine

Mistress has a date this morning with M – let’s call it a conference to go over their mutual goals and objectives for the new year here at UCTMW Enterprises – so certain restrictions have applied over the last 24 hours.

First, she was instructed not to use her new Hitachi since it finally arrived, spit out belatedly from our balky supply chain management “system” – review of that will certainly me covered on Mick’s year end review by our CEO.

And that in itself was not an easy instruction for Molly to follow. I mean, “it’s son new and shiny, Slave.”

I tried my best to make up for it’s absence yesterday morning with lively tongue and hard cock. But…. I think Mistress was still longing for her power tool…..

Then yesterday M told her no orgasms until their conference.

Mistress began to wheedle.

She told me later about it, over the phone.

“Slave…. He’s told me no orgasms, but I explained we were planning to meet at your office before our parties tonight …. And….”

We had two parties to attend: one a group’s annual Holiday event, then an old friend’s retirement celebration.

“And you told him that you expected worship, Mistress?”

She had even worn her black peek-aboo tights for ease of access for me. Wasn’t she considerate?

“Well what I said is that Slave would be really disappointed if he did not get the chance to worship me.”

“I’m happy just to meet you at the Party, Mistress. That way you won’t have to walk all the way over here in the cold.”

“Oh, not necessary… it’s alright Slave…. M laughed about me being so considerate about your chance to worship me….’it’s just for Mick ….. right!’ is what he said. But he said it’s OK.”

Of course, I followed the “trust but verify” mantra of that former actor turned President, sending an email to M to make sure Mistress was allowed that extra orgasm in my office. M responded by email that, yes I could worship Mistress, but it was good of me to check up on her. She can be a little manipulative when it comes to be serviced early and often.

So Mistress found her way over to my office at around 4:45 pm. I pulled the chair over to bar the door. The red blanket was spread for her. She took her throne, not bothering to shed that swanky black Burberry coat, just hiking it and her dress up around her waist and spreading her thighs to give me access.

Her full lips were already a bit full and flushed…. no doubt from the cold walk over. Frost bite could be a concern with these special tights, I suppose.

And from my knees it was very convenient to bend to my purpose. It took a bit to warm Mistress up, sliding her clit between my lips and teasing it with my tongue seemed to help. And soon her tight covered thighs were squeezing my head as she climbed the wall and dropped over the side into her little world of pleasure.

Delicious.

But that’s been it for M’s “little vixen”. We made it home rather late, and she went to sleep with her hips twitching a bit. I could tell she would have been very happy for me to reach for the Hitachi on the floor next to us, and force an orgasm or two from her before she nodded off. But we resisted that naughty impulse.

“Just think how hot you’re going to be for it in the morning Mistress….”

“Just remember to wear your cage Slave….”

We won’t be driving together, so that is my rule for the day. So I get to sit at my desk, consider what Mistress will be up to with M, back in our bed, her Hitachi finally in hand, with my cock on lockdown.

Sounds like this quarantine applies to both of us.

Mistress Toes the Line for our Western Correspondent

Our Western Correspondent had Mistress on an orgasm embargo yesterday morning, in preparation for their 10 am phone sex “date”. But the problem was that my early morning reading and writing in the morning had her Slave on a sexual edge.

So, when I climbed the stairs, prepared to show my ‘homework’ to Mistress, I was wondering whether I would have to share in her embargo, or simply slink off for the day, all caged up, with thoughts of Mistress waiting for M’s call in my head.

As Mistress read my entry – the first real one of the week  it seemed- I followed M’s direction: teasing her with my tongue and lips until she was all damp and fragrant for me.

When she slid the laptop to the side, she grabbed my hair (gently) and eased me up next to her, expressing her appreciation with a kiss. And her fingers quickly found my firm and throbbing cock.

“Hmmmm…., what to do Slave?”

“Would you mind me fucking you, Mistress. I’ll go easy….. I know you’re not allowed to come, but…..”

“But you’re desperate, aren’t you, Slave?”

“Uhhh, yeah….”

“Then go ahead…”

I proceeded gingerly…. Not wanting to drive Mistress too crazy, but responding to my more primitive needs as you might expect from a lowly Slave who lets his cock do his thinking for him.

When Mistress’s breathing and wanton wriggling signaled to me that I was getting into dangerous territory I backed off a bit.

“Sorry, Mistress…. Is this too challenging …. Having to curb your enthusiasm while I get all the fun….”

“It’s ….  Unusual ….. Slave”, that “just get on with it” tone in her voice.

“But you know your sacrifice will be worth it Mistress….. he’ll be so pleased when he hears how desperate you are when he gets you going with that Hitachi in just a couple of hours.”

Mistress was bighting her tongue at this point, maybe mentally calculating the balance of her checking account, and I was begging fro permission to come.

Not surprisingly, permission was granted.

She is a very considerate Mistress, don’t you all agree? I could hardly complain when she insisted that I wear my cage to work. She took time from perusing her work emails in bed to snick the little lock shut.

“Be good today, Slave.”

As if I had a choice in the matter.

Later, she called me on her drive to work, following that much anticipated date.

“How was it, Mistress?”

“Very good Slave….he had an interesting story he wanted to share….”

“So tell me…..”

“If you are good I will tell you all about it in bed tonight….”

So I suppressed my curiosity, figuring we would catch up in the evening. But at around 2:15 pm I got a text from Mistress.

“Bored with work, Slave.  Can I visit?”

I knew what that meant. Mistress was already horny for more ‘attention’ to her luxuriant folds. And of course, Mistress gets what she wants. She left my office with a contented smirk, leaving me with her taste and aroma to remember her by. And the unsubtle reminder that my steel cage was locked on tight.

Mistress released me at around 8:00 pm or so. We had arranged to talk to Aisha later about our weekend plans with her and Sir D.

But this time Mistress agreed it would be better to get some other ‘business’ taken care of first. We did not want to abruptly end the call to satisfy our baser impulses as we had done to poor Aisha the last time we had talked.

Slave was instructed to insert his little white probe.

We rolled together under the sheets, my cock already stretching out following a long day in its confinement. My finger found it’s way between Mistress’s firm and well exercised thighs. Hers’ were now wrapped around me, toying and teasing.

And she finally shared the details of her morning’s activities.

“So how many, Mistress…”

“Quite a few Slave…. We must have been at it for more than 30 minutes….”

I tried to do the math …. One every 5 minutes or so…. Or more. But Mistress’s fingers somehow distracted me from my multiplication tables.

“and what was the story he told you, Mistress….”

It was very elaborate Slave…. We were at a party in his hometown …. Sort of like the one we are going to Saturday with Aisha and D.  But he was auctioning me off…. “

“And where were to proceeds going, Mistress?”

“I asked him that and he said ‘be quiet Slave, I’m telling the story…. But then later he said, maybe groceries and tequila….funny….”

We were fucking by now, me on top, slowly pumping into Mistress….

“And what did the guys buying you get for their money, Mistress?”

“I was sucking their cocks, Slave….and M was watching.”

Our legs were wound around one another’s by now, and I was sliding my hips left to right, pressing down hard against Mistress’s clit, her breathing was ragged, she was close. And I had no reason to hold back now.

“How did that feel, Mistress? … sucking all those anonymous cocks because M told you to do it?”

“It was humiliating, Slave…. But….”

Mistress was coming now, burying her mouth in my neck. And soon I was asking for permission to come as well.

We lay there, spent. Clinging to one another for a while.

Then we remembered our call…..

I was planning to tell you about that this morning, but time is short, Mistress awaits. Guess I got carried away…. So we will cover our conversation and plans with the charming Aisha and the commanding D tomorrow.

Have a good Friday, all.

HNT / Better Safe than Sorry

So Mistress is off for two nights. 

She allowed me to fuck her yesterday morning, my cock and balls gripped by the hard ring that makes the base of my cage.  It makes it a tad harder: harder for her; harder to come. But when I do ---- yow. 

Highly recommended, with or without the confinement that comes when the party os over.

And that came for me at around 7:25 am yesterday. Mistress hid the key away.  And it was not at all clear when I would see it again.

“So here’s the deal, Slave.   You’ll be in the cage at my discretion while I am gone. I may consider letting you take it off tonight. We’ll see.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I dropped her off at work, helped her unload her bag. Kissed her goodbye. We embraced and she gave me a discrete little “cage pat” out on the sidewalk in front of her aging office tower. 

“I’ll miss you, Mistress.”

“Me too, Slave.”

I went about my business of the day: balancing caseload with some political activities gearing up for Mid-term Madness come Tuesday.

Meanwhile Mistress and her 3 colleagues were on the road, heading right through the heart of  head stomping country.

We exchanged a few pithy text messages through the day.

“Stopping at Cracker Barrel.  Fun.”

Mistress is not a Cracker Barrel type. Though she has been known to gnaw on some beef jerky when on a road trip.

“Yum.  Just watch out for the guys in jack boots, Mistress. “

I was doing my best not to focus on what could be a potentially long term cock incarceration.

I also used Mistress absence to perform an annoying filial obligation: taking my aging cranky Mom to dinner with the surly teens. Amazingly, they were all on their best behavior and Mom had take home calzone to show her aging neighbors at the condo when I delivered her home.

I did get a chance to talk briefly with Mistress before picking up my mother.

“Busy here, Slave…. Just got to the hotel…. Will go to my room and rest a bit before dinner…. And I know the Western Correspondent is getting a little antsy to talk to me.”

Ahh.  The guy who wanted to make sure Mistress packed her Hitachi.

“Make sure you fit him in Mistress …. I am sure you could use a little ‘therapy’ after that long drive.”

“I will try, Slave….”

(M and I actually traded a few emails during the day. I could tell he was missing Mistress almost as much as I was.

“Try to keep her entertained, M …. Otherwise she might end up in bed with some

C & W crooner tonight….”

“Good point, Mick…..”)

After dropping off my mother, I was able to reconnect with Mistress before she headed to dinner with her colleagues in Music City.

“So did you track down M…. I know he was concerned about your well being, Mistress”.

“We did connect, Slave.”

“And did you get to use your power tool?”

“Yes, Slave. It was pretty funny. He was driving around and… you know.”

I imagined Mistress splayed on her hotel bed, her legs spread wide,  applying her powerful assistant at M’s directions. But let’s hope he didn’t join in the fun while driving. At least unless he has a hands free telephone.

And of course I was reminded of my cage when my mind drifted to Mistress coming at his command.

Damn.

“How many, Mistress.?”

“Only two slave….”

Mistress was off to dinner. I was home, catching up on old Jon Stewart episodes, paging through the Times. Avoiding incendiary sex blogs.

At around 11 pm, Mistress called.

“Still out to dinner Slave…. And next we are going to some club with a group of folks….How’s the cage?”

“Tight, Mistress….”

“Well…. I will let you out for sleeping, as long as you agree to ut it back on in the morning.  Word of honor?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

“But remember…. No touching….”

“Of course, Mistress.”

She is a tender hearted, Mistress.

And even when I woke up last night with a raging hard-on, well, I followed the rule…. Thought of mortgage payments and stock portfolios… all the things that can divert one’s brain from the desire to touch.

I figure if the sub-sisters can do it, so can I.

But seeing the photo I took the other day in my office, remembering the silky touch of Mistress’s succulent folds against my tongue…. The intoxicating aroma of her flowing juices, her addictive taste….

Maybe I should go put my cage back on now, even before I give her my morning wake up call.

Better safe than sorry.

The Warden Reports on the Imposition of his Prisoner's Sentence

From the Desk of  Warden Mick Collins, Collinsville House of Corrections

To: Governor M (AKA our Western Correspondent)

Re: Imposition of Sentence Imposed on Prisoner Molly Collins.

Governor, first I wanted to confirm receipt of your correspondence sentencing Ms. Molly Collins, our prisoner here at the Collinsville House of Corrections to a term of no less than 24 hours of orgasm denial, coupled with various forms of  tickling, teasing and torment (TTT).

We pride ourselves in our TTT treatment here and went to work bright and early on Sunday morning, as reported in  my earlier memorandum  to you.

As the day progressed it seemed that Ms. Collins was responding well to the prescribed sentence: there was the tell tale labored breathing, squirming, whining and cajoling that comes with the knowledge that her primitive longings would not fulfilled anytime soon. And the scent of her, Governor!  It was an olfactory outrage.

For the record, I wanted to confirm receipt later that day of the following correspondence, which appeared to be from your office, though I must say that I wondered whether the little minx had somehow hired a hacker to hijack your email account:

“Of course as the governor, so to speak,  I may entertain a afternoon plea for clemency,, plea being the operative word, and of course I would never override the warden if he thought the full sentence should be served...  will await a plea or instructions here in the governor’s  mansion.”

In any event, I suspect that Prisoner Collins, if she was not the source of this message, somehow obtained access to it and saw her opening.

I was in the common room, watching a Sunday afternoon football game with other members of our staff and several prisoners when Ms. Collins asked if she might return to her cell for a rest period. Apparently the persistent touch of my fingers sliding through those sopping and aromatic folds had become a little too frustrating for her to handle. And since she had endured this treatment for an hour or so, I figured it would be consistent with our TTT protocol to give her about a 45 minute break for her to consider the folly of her ways before resuming alternative “therapy.”

After the game ended with yet another ignominious defeat for the local team, I went up to Ms. Collins cell to take out a little of my own frustrations on the needy little slut. I figured she could endure some special handling at the end of my cock for a while, before the dinner hour here at the House of Corrections.

When I entered the room, I found to my surprise that the squirmy little slut was on the phone. So much for our ban on cell phones for our prisoners. Another rule honored in the breach.

“I’m talking to the Governor, Warden. He tells me that he will commute my sentence.”

Apparently she had decided to proceed Pro Se, and was making a personal plea for clemency!  You really need to get your Chief of Staff to filter those types of calls, Governor, particularly on Sundays.

I expressed disbelief.

“How do I know that’s really the Governor, slut?  You could be manipulating the system.”

“He’s doubting my word, Governor.  Will you talk to Warden Mick directly and let him know I’m off the hook?”

She handed me the phone.

“Hey Mick….. how’s it going there.  Man…. I can’t believe how badly both our teams sucked today.”

Sure enough, unless she was wily enough to hire a clever impersonator, it seemed to be you, Governor.

“So what do we do with our Mistress / Slave here M?  She seems to be pretty desperate, though I think she might be able to suck it up until tomorrow when her original sentence expires. Do you really want me to commute that sentence?”

“What I told her is that it’s up to you, Mick…. You decide whether to finish the job or let her off the hook.”

Apparently Mistress’s cajoling has softened up the Governor. No big surprise there. Maybe next time she needs one of those Hannibel Lector gag / masks to stifle all that wheedling.

“Yes, sir.  I will proceed at my own discretion.”

I handed the phone back to Mistress. She turned on the charm for you, Governor. As she signed off No doubt she is thinking she can wangle some high level appointment in your next term. A real rags to riches story in the making. From lowly prisoner to Director of Corrections!  Please.

After she signed off, another successful appeal put to bed, she smiled at me.

‘So do I get to come now, Slave?’

She was feeling her oats, having reduced the Governor to her sniveling patsy.

“Take off the dress, prisoner. Things are now at my discretion ….”

She was positioned on her back on the bed, her head at it’s foot. The towel strips used on her legs earlier this morning secured her arms, spread wide.

That gave me ready access to her aromatic folds, already squirming in contemplation of her early release. The photograph documents this final stage of her TTT treatment.

“I do get to come now, don’t I Slave?”

“Let’s just see how things, develop….. And how nicely you beg. See if you can be as persuasive with me as you were with the Governor.”

I deployed the feather, one of ‘Nilla’s suggestions. And a useful one. The prisoner squirmed nicely as I let it slide from toe sole of her foot, up her leg and then dip into her sodden valley at the apex of her  thighs.

“Stop…. Slave……that’s just too much……”

I did. After a while. A long while.

I dipped a finger in,  collecting, then tasting those juices. I even gave the prisoner a little taste, dipping a finger into her wanton lips.

“Aren’t you just scrumptious, Mistress?”

She just scowled. 

“Can’t I just come…… ?”

That’s when I deployed the trusty Hitachi. By then she knew that I was not going to drag it our much longer, If only for fear of reprisals once she persuaded you to make her my boss.

She was squirming in earnest.

“Oh God… I really can’t hold back anymore, Slave…. Please may I come…please?”

“Yes, you may…..”

And of course she did: Shaking, jerking, wrapping her legs around that churning device, hugging it to her needy mound, her head thrown back, arms straining against her bonds.

I suspect your voters would like to see these TTT sentences, and their final acts,  shown on the local public access channels, Governor.  The DVR’s would be churning. Think about including that in your platform when you run for your 2^nd term.

And since I had only eased up but not shut off the power tool, she quickly was coming again. Ditto the paragraph above.

Afterwards, she did show her gratitude. It’s one of the perks of my job as Warden here, along with the bloated pension and lots of sick days.

“Warden….. would you like to fuck me now.”

Who could resist that sweet, if manipulative, voice.

In summary, just another day of the prisoners running the prison Governor.

“Same as it ever was.”

---

Mistress's Day of Denial

Some of you were snickering when I reported on last Sunday’s “Switch” activities, when I decided to overload Mistress with a cornucopia of orgasms.

I could hear you. “Wow, that sure was tough on her, Mick.”

So this week, with prompting from our Western Correspondent – who finally earned his lofty monthly retainer and expense check – we tried a completely different approach.

When I came upstairs to let Mistress read the blog, and learn about her sentence, she was one step ahead of me.

“I saw that email from M, Slave…. You aren’t really going to do those things are you?”



She was already resorting to manipulation. Wheedling to get her way. It wouldn’t surprise me if she had already snuck one in under the wire, once she learned of her “sentence”

“And why not, Mistress. Doesn’t it turn you on to have M calling the shots, denying you through his minion here in River City?”

“Well….”

My finger was slowly circling her moist clit, where my tongue had explored while she read the blog. Her hips were already squirmy.

“I suppose it does Slave…”

I went to work at that point.

Her hands were bound in those little red cuffs, then tied off, together at the top of the bed.

Her ankles were tied off to the corners with some long soft strips torn from a beach towel, spreading her legs wide.

You can see her in the photo, the feather ‘Nilla recommended ready for action.

She looked delicious. And the aroma of molten cunt was already filling our room.

As M suggested, she got a good spanking first. Her bottom glowed red. She whined a bit, but took her medicine well.

I suppose she knew it was far better than what was to come.

Then She was tickled.

The feather has a nice squirmy effect on her, particularly when the tip pokes and probes between her juicy folds. Her hips strained against her bindings, in a futile attempt to evade.

“Why don’t you just let me come, Slave….. we don’t have to tell M….”

Oh, the Slave conspiracy theme. I was not falling for it.

“But that would be wrong, Mistress….”

I fed her my cock, kneeling on the bed to allow her access. She did an excellent job of bringing it to full dimensions.

Then I slid onto her back. She was so wet and eager that I found my mark immediately, sliding deep inside. But taking it slow and easy to keep Mistress on the edge.

I’ll give her credit. I know she was struggling to resist coming as I fucked her from behind. Usually the friction of her clit against the bed, and the pumping from my hard cock makes it easy for her to tip over the edge. Her labored breathing told me how hard she was working at staying under control.

“Good girl, Mistress.”

I was getting a little close to the edge myself, so slid out and picked up Mistress’s trusty Hitachi, lying next to the bed.

She saw what I was doing.

“That is completely unfair, Slave…..”

I laughed at her trepidation.

“Oh Mistress….. suck it up…..”

I learned that the Hitachi is not just a one trick pony. It also makes a lovely tickling implement, if slid along the soles of a restrained slut’s feet, or under her arms. Lots of struggling and squirming ensued, making our old wooden bed groan.

But when I slid it under those squirming hips, letting it come into contact with her sopping folds it was a different song that Mistress sang.

Her hips were doing their best to pull away, but there was very little range of motion for her.

“You’ve really got to let me come, Slave…. Or take that thing away. I really can’t take it anymore without coming.”

I decided to show her mercy. The Hitachi was parked. Her legs were untied. I rolled her over.

Then I fucked her.

I was not on denial, after all. I made sure I took it slow and easy until I was ready to come. And I did ask for permission. It’s hard to break that habit.

I almost felt guilty taking my own pleasure while Mistress was denied hers’.

Almost.

“You really are doing this, Slave?”

I think she thought M and I were just pulling her leg. That I would drag things out but ultimately relent.

“Let’s go for a bike ride, Mistress, that will distract you from your plight”

We went biking. When we got home I was off to do some maintenance at a rental property we own closer to downtown. But first I had some orders to fulfill.

“Come here Mistress….”

I was sitting on the bed.

“And pull those riding shorts down to your knees.”

She gave me the “you’ve got to be kidding me look”.

But she was a good little slut, and complied. Maybe she thought I would relent.

Instead, I pulled her over my lap for that nice bare bottom spanking M had prescribed for her. She does squirm nicely.

And when I asked her to spread those delicious thighs a bit, to allow more access, she greedily complied.

But when my fingers began to do what they have been trained to do, she began to object.

“You’re driving me crazy, Slave….. why don’t you just let me come.”

“But it’s not even noon, Mistress….. just think of our friends who have had to endure so much more denial that a mere few hours…..”

“But they don’t have someone teasing and fucking them when they are on denial, do they?”

She had a point. So I stopped my fingering of her aromatic folds, and let her off the hook.

Later in the day, she lay next to me on the couch as I read the Times and watched our miserable NFL team.

She had not gone the multiple layers of riding shorts root. Instead she elected the naked cunt under black cotton dress route. That gave me easy access to finger and taunt her every ten minutes or so.

“You know you’re driving me crazy, don’t you Slave….”

“But you taste so good, Mistress,” I said, as I licked her juices from my fingers.

And she does have a lovely pout.

Unfortunately, dear readers, my deadline has approached. Time for me to go upstairs and wake Mistress…..So I will leave you waiting for the conclusion of this little tale of frustration.

Until tomorrow, Mick

Appetites

Some of the comments we got after Slave’s attempt at “orgasm overload” on our switch day Sunday got us talking here in the Collins’ household about sexual appetites.

Mistress was pretty tender after all the “abuse” she absorbed on Sunday from her favorite power tool. So we passed on early morning sex, and Mistress settled for one of those finger induced comes as she clung to me in our shower.

Then, on our drive home, Mistress shared a bit of her day’s text message trail with our Western Correspondent.

“He says he’s feeling deprived, Slave….”

“Huh?  I thought you said that he and B had ‘epic’ sex over the weekend….. “

“But that was yesterday, this is today.”

Mistress giggles. She says she feels like his confessor sometimes, getting the full orgasm count. Though I expect he demands the same from her.

“And  he didn’t  masturbate today?  That’s not like him.”

“Oh he did…. Twice he says.”

“Man…. He should be happy …. I’m not even allowed to touch.”

“Yeah…. That’s what I said ….’stop the whining…  but he just threatened to impose an orgasm embargo if I didn’t watch out….”

“Oh dear…. Wouldn’t that be a horror for you, Mistress.”

I think she caught my sarcasm, as my finger roamed up the inside of her thigh, along the smooth black fabric of her tights.

Obviously, this Slave is quite content with allowing Mistress to be the “decider” when it comes to my coming. Usually it’s twice a day, with an occasional abstinence day thrown in. She seems to know when I need it, and when a little denial might make me all the more desperate for her. And she does enjoy a desperate Slave.

“How old is M …. 51 maybe…. I don’t think I was quite that desperate to come all the time 8 years ago, Mistress.”

“You, Slave…. If anything we probably did it less back then….but now I have you  well trained to please me.”

“Glad you think so Mistress….”

“It is funny how much M needs to come Slave….I know  you would like to test whether you are woman enough to quench his appetites, Mistress….”

She got that dreamy, far way look in her eye.

“I suppose so, Slave….”

I like those little involuntary squirms Mistress displays when the subject of his special occasion cock comes to mind.

“Do you think M is a little out there though, or am I the one who is ‘under-sexed’, satisfied with once or twice a day?”

She laughed.

“Well, we did find him through a sex blog, Slave…. Maybe that should tell us something.”

Yes. I guess that is a sort of self-selecting pool.

HNT / To Deny or Not to Deny?

Between ‘Nilla’s latest chapter in her “Mountain” opus, and M’s suggestion on these pages that we poll our little claque of opinionated readers on whether and to what length Mistress should endure orgasm quarantine, we had a lot of chatter going yesteday in Collins-ville, and with our Western Correspondent.

M even turned up briefly among ‘Nilla’s comments with a few choice, rare words, describing himself (quite accurately) as our underproductive and overpaid “Western Correspondent”. I wonder if it’s possible for UCTMW, LLC to collect a syndication fee from ‘Nilla as a way to recoup our investment in his lofty monthly salary.

First, on the subject of ‘Nilla’s little work of speculative fiction.

I confess that the thought of a certain Slave being taken that way by his Mistress in front of one of her male admirers sent a certain twitch through me. Is it the humiliation that I crave? Part of the whole cuckold thing? I do get a certain grovel-ly delight when Mistress asserts herself that way. The experiment with the cage on while being ass fucked over the weekend was …..Wow-ish.

So yes, ‘Nilla. That works.

But the last few passages. Involving the Slave’s mouth and M’s “special occasion cock”? That generated a big fat yuck among the three of us. Not to say that those who are into it, shouldn’t be into it. Who are we to judge when it comes to sexual behaviors not involving unwelcome conduct or kids?

It’s just that M and I both are pretty darn hetero; and Mistress herself likes to think that both his cock and my mouth would be attending solely to her should we ever find ourselves together.

Nonetheless, I certainly got a kick out of our fans’ interest in my well being over ‘Nilla’s posting.

On to the subject or orgasm denial.

Mistress thought it was oh, so nice of you all to suggest how she would benefit from 2 0r 3 days of denial.

When I texted her mid-day that “Everyone seems to be voting for days of denial, Mistress”

Her rather clear response was “No Way.”

Of course, I don’t have the authority to impose suck a sentence. At most my contract would be limited to our 24 hour switch day.

You sub-sisters will have to lobby the Western Correspondent if you want to see a longer sentence imposed.

And while it might be amusing to deny Mistress on Switch Day - to tease, torment, bring her tight up to the edge, and leave her hanging – I would lose the special thrill I get to watch her crash over and through that last barrier. So it would be self-denial as much as denial for her.

An interesting concept now that I think of it…. I suppose that might be kind of fun….. let’s think about it a while.

I agree with ‘Nilla who talked about how orgasm denial sucks, but when you have that first post denial explosion, it seems like it was worth the wait. Almost. When Mistress has denied me for a 24 hour or 26 hour period, I am crazy frustrated. And she seems to enjoy that clearly manifested need I have for her.

But she seems to have let our Abstinence Days fade away in the last few months. It’s usually 2 or 3 a day here in the Collins’ household for her devoted Slave. Maybe she’s going with the theory that lots or orgasms keep me docile and obedient. If so, it’s certainly working.

I would be remiss not to say that all that commentary yesterday did get Mistress worked up. When we got home from work, she was quite insistent on her pre-dinner worship, and then, after dinner, we settled in for a long and mutually pleasing session in our bed, with my little device required.

“Put it in Slave…. I like what it does to your cock.”

And so that she gets the proper balance, Mistress plans to leave for work a little later than normal, so she can fit in a phone therapy session with our Western Correspondent, assisted by her trusty Hitachi.

Now I’m heading upstairs to wake her. The question I haven’t answered yet is whether I should let her horniness build for her call with M, or get a little re-work action in for myself.

Tough call.