It’s good to get that sort of feedback from a fellow blogger who is clearly paying attention to our usually true, if fantastical, antics here at UCTMW.
We really did have a snow day here in River City yesterday. School was cancelled for the surly teens. And since Mick and Molly carpooled in our only 4WD vehicle, Molly could not linger here at home for her planned “date” with our Western Correspondent.
That did free her up from the anticipated embargo, and she indulged my cock yesterday morning, as the wet, thick snowflakes fell, after I had performed sufficient worship duties to justify such a boon.
When it snows here, the whole City seems to fall to its knees, cowering at the slippery white stuff, as if it doesn’t happen this time every year. So it seemed appropriate that our lunch engagements were cancelled, and we could reschedule lunch together.
And of course that also meant that Slave would be falling to his knees, to provide Mistress with some additional worship before we indulged our culinary cravings at a local chili parlor.
As I knelt to help Mistress remove a snow dampened boot, I asked if she had been in touch with our Western Correspondent, even though their date had been cancelled.
“Yes, Slave…..”.
“And was he frustrated about missing that date, Mistress?”
She was pealing back one leg of those smooth black tights to give me access to those luscious folds. I was planning on feeding my addiction to her sweet, musky juices. And I did not wait for her answer before digging in. This was the “palate cleanser” preceding our lunch, like a musky sorbet. Yum.
Soon Mistress was distracted too, and it was not long before her hips were rising out of her “throne”, pushed against the door, her head throne back, stifling a moan of release so as not to disturb my colleagues, passing by in the hallway beyond the door.
“Nice, Slave…..”
“My pleasure, Mistress…..”
As she reassembled her chic outfit, I asked her to finish the story about her conversation with M.
“Well we talked….. and I must have provoked him a bit, because later he said he “took care of himself”, before going back to bed.
“Ahhhh…. Still malingering after that sad frost bite plight, I see.”
But then later, I received a disturbing, if a bit incredible, email from M’s union steward, a certain Johnny “Big Fingers” Calamari, of Local 69, International Brotherhood of Teamsters. (Apparently the Newspaper Guild was a little too high falootin’ for our WC.)
The email contained the usual hyperbolic rhetoric about M’s sad and pathetic decline after his unzipped, commando sub-freezing bike ride, and the horrific calamity it had (allegedly) caused his special occasion cock.
Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.
There were threats of an OSHA investigation, and an extortionate demand for compensation in small hundred dollar bills, delivered to a truck stop that very night somewhere outside of Pueblo, Colorado.
But the exclamation point on this lowbrow attempt at extortion was the attached photo:
If Senor “Big Fingers” was to be believed, it seemed that the special occasion cock had fallen right off, with the exemplary specimen now preserved as evidence in a cocktail of formaldehyde and Cuervo.
After forwarding her this heinous email, I was quickly on the phone to our Publisher, with my General Counsel hat firmly in place.
“Mistress….. this is the problem with having a field office, with no HR staff on the ground. How do we know that this is really M’s damaged cock?”
“Don’t you lawyers have a way of investigating this sort of claim, Slave?”
“We do …. It’s called an independent medical exam (IME)…. You send some malingering Plaintiff or employee to a health care provider of your choice, and they inspect the alleged damage….”
“I don’t think it will take some expert to verify this claim, Slave…. Book me a seat on the next plane out….. and make sure M and his union rep know I am on the way to conduct this IME personally…..”
“Your wish is my command, Mistress…..”
