Answering a Few Questions

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He's BAAAACK!

Slave got a rather cruel cropping last night from Mistress, resulting from an unfortunate turn of phrase I used over dinner that she found to be impertinent. And in retrospect, I it was certainly a poor choice of words on my part.  My ass still tingles a bit this morning. I do find it encouraging that she took firm and deliberate (if painful) action to deal with my transgression rather than sulk about it!

But I have to wonder… why would Mistress give her Slave a cropping on a Saturday night, unless she was hankering for some serious “pay-back” on Switch Day? It really makes sense in a Freudian sort of way doesn’t it?  I’ll try to make sure not to disappoint her this morning!

But today’s post isn’t about me whining about a tender bottom, it marks the return to this page after a long and convoluted convalescence of our Western Correspondent. He purportedly was at “Muerte’s” door any number of times over the last few months according to the scrawled notes in Spanglish of some “Doctor” who signed off as “Fredo”, that occasionally arrived by fax everytime we threatened to cancel his Amex card these last few months. Quite frankly, we were afraid Miguel would never wank again, let alone generate any more column inches for this fading media empire.

But just when we had given all hope, and were prepared to shut off the utilities at our Mountain Zone satellite office once and for all, Mistress received the following under her electronic transom, indicating that, at least, our WC has gotten back some of his “faculties”:

Had a hot fantasy about you this morning

And had a great orgasm!

Thought about you coming to Denver and I took you to the ranch on 50 shades night

For the drive there you would be naked with your hands cuffed behind your back but with a long coat on till we go inside

Then we would check your coat with the coat check girl and I would put a collar and leash on you

I would lead you up to the bar with everyone watching you

We would stand next to a very tough looking but handsome biker guy

He would say “may I ?”

“Sure...”

He would grab your breasts and squeeze them 

Also pinch you nipple hard as you gasped and your cunt flooded with moisture 

He would take a big thick finger and shove it up your cunt

And then make you lick it clean

“She is a horny bitch isn't she….”

Clearly........”

“Can I put her over my knee ?”

“Sure ….”

I would love watching as he blistered your bare bottom

As you screamed and fussed

He would pull your ass cheeks wide open and look at you jamming his finger up your cunt

And once lubricated up your ass

“Can I fuck her?”

“Not till I do....”

He would give you one final swat and the grab your hair and pull you off him

“Well then I am done with her….” 

I would sit on the couch and order you down to your knees and take out my cock and balls

“Worship it Slave!!!”

You would slobber all over my cock as I pushed it down your throat

Fucking hot Molly........

Many people would be watching as all this happened

“Enough “….I said as I zipped up

“I want to cum in your cunt or ass later”

I would lead you by the leash around the party letting men and women fondle your breast, cunt and asshole

Some of the women would take particular delight in rubbing your clit, pinching your nipples and pushing their fingers up both you holes

Grabbing your hair and making you say how much you liked it

Now this is where the story ends on the email that Mistress forwarded to me…. Maybe there is a 2^nd chapter coming? Or maybe Mike got a little “distracted” at this point in the narrative.

But at least we now know he’s “cuming around…” so to speak.

Into the Deep...

We had a busy and early day here in River City yesterday – thanks to Donna for filling in for us on this page.

Mistress finally had a chance to join a group of intrepid souls who annually swim across and back our big River here. It’s an early morning affair, since barge and recreational boat traffic is stopped by the Coast Guard for an hour or so to accommodate the swimmers.

So we were up and out the door by 6 am. Mistress looked fetching in her blue bathing suit and the matching bathing cap assigned her (my guess is the cap is required to make the swimmers easier to see from the kayaks and other small boats out there to help any swimmers in distress). And she was quite game when it was time to hop into the brown and murky river and set off for the opposite shore. In fact, it was so hot and steamy here despite the early hour that Slave, who does not have the distance swimming experience of Mistress, wished he had brought his swim costume and given it a try.

She emerged about 19 minutes later, after the approximately 900 yard swim smiling and proud of her accomplishment. And I was very proud of her too.

Of course, it would have been nice to go home and hose mistress down after her dip in the big muddy, nap a bit and have some morning sex. But it was also our sullen teen #2’s 18th birthday. It was time to turn our attention to her.

Mistress had arranged for a salon day for the three women of the house (the girls are no longer the “divas in training” as an old friend used to refer to them --- they have now graduated from diva training school).

So I dropped Mistress off where she would be meeting the ladies and spent about two hours doing some yard work and tree pruning in the 100 degree plus blast furnace we call the local environment these days.

Mistress and Slave were finally ready for some R&R at around 4 pm – a nap followed by some much anticipated sex. I mean, it had been since Friday evening? That’s not what this pampered house Slave has come to expect.

“I think I’m too tired for ass fucking this afternoon, Slave….”

“Not a problem, Mistress…. Plain old, plain old is just what the doctor ordered.”

And so it was.

Later there was a family dinner – sullen #2 had demanded sushi and cupcakes – so it was a long family day here at the World HQ.

While I was doing my yard work, I got a call from one of my older daughters. She congratulated me on having seen all of my 4 daughters make it to “adulthood” without any trauma – no arrests, no drop outs, no addictions, only a little drama in between. And I suppose its more luck than achievement. Their Mothers probably had more to do with it than me. But it certainly is nice to have that child reading thing behind. Not that there won’t be more stressful and complicated (and expensive) benchmarks ahead of us.

But at least Mistress and her Slave will be getting a little more space in the months to come. Imagine the trouble we can get ourselves into here at the World HQ.

Our Senior Correspondent reminded us that today is International BDSM day…. Here’s a link from Lady Evyl describing its origins. International BDSM Day / Lady Evyl

I tried to do a little more research on any planned festivities, but came up blank. Though I did find this interesting  article by Dr. Susan Block on the history and origins of erotic spanking. It's well worth the peruse. I did not realize that spanking was the subject of serious “scholarship” as long ago as the 17th Century, by Germans, no less:

"In the 17th century, two German authors made their name in spanking research: the German physician Johann Heinrich Meibom, who wrote a best-selling treatise on the use of flogging as a medical and sexual stimulant, and German medical botanist and poet Kristian Frantz Paullini, whose Flagellum Salutis praised flagellation for its curative use in treating diseases as diverse as melancholia, paralysis, toothache, sleepwalking, deafness, and nymphomania, as well as for pleasure and sexual arousal."

It’s amusing to know that even in the 17th Century, grad students and University faculty were collaborating on seemingly useless, if titillating research, isn’t it? Can you imagine the experiments that the “Herr Professors” engaged in as they pursued knowledge for its own sake?

“Class there is a lab sign-up sheet here on my desk for those of you frauleins who want to involve themselves in some break through scientific research. Plus you can earn a little extra class participation credit on your semester grade.”

Because our “grown up” kids are both home this morning, the celebration of International BDSM Day likely will be a little muted here at the UCTMW World HQ. But since it is Switch Day here in River City, at least the crop will be in my hand….

Please let us know how you all will be commemorating the day.

Mistress Toes the Line

I am now on my fifth night solo here at the UCTMW World HQ, not quite mid-way through Mistress’s pilgrimage through Eastern Europe. And while the sullen teens have been keeping their distance from their tedious old dad, it’s been nice to have all of your supportive comments,  emails and even a few texts from the WC.

And of course Mistress has also been kind enough to call, text and email. I think she misses me almost as much as I miss her. And I am starting to feel a little sorry for her poor nipples. Somehow, she keeps calling “heads”, and the WC keeps flipping the coin and coming up with tails. And you can see from the photo at the top of the blog that Mistress has been very honorable in following the rules that M has laid down for her.

“I told him it seems very unfair, Slave, and that my nipples are very tender now.”

“But you must feel compelled Mistress…. To honor his rules.”

“I suppose I do, Slave….”

She does obey pretty well, M. When I talked to her tonight, she was planning to adjourn to the Loo with her clothespins in hand, for those mandatory three cums.

No wonder she seems to be sleeping well.

Of course, with the help of Donna and M, I’ve had a little help providing blog fodder, and the comments section has been particularly robust.

So, Aisha, in response to your question yesterday, I have been keeping things together here with out much trouble. Though today I had an unusual amount of “field Slave” work, including too much time on my knees and stooped, resetting some outdoor tiles with help from a neighbor. If I have to go down on my knees, I’d much rather be doing it worshiping Mistress.

Of course, when she heard my comment to that effect yesterday, Donna had to taunt her Executive Editor a little bit, sending me the following photo.

I must say, it did make my mouth water, and not because I have a sweet tooth. It made me realize how much I miss chowing down on Mistress fragrant and delicious folds.

Of course, Mistress laid out her own rules for me. I’m to wear the cage whenever I leave the house, something that got a little uncomfortable with all that kneeling and crouching down today. And I also have been required to “take matters into my own hands” daily, and report back to Mistress on what was going through her Slave’s mind as he “got himself off”.

It’s an unfamiliar “discipline” for me. When she is in town, Mistress applies a very strict “no touch without permission” rule, that is a feature of our contract. And since we do have sex with a rather incredible degree of frequency, it’s not that I have some need that Mistress does not more than amply fulfill. After all, at 60, once or twice a day is ample release of Mick’s natural juices. (Unlike the uber-dude WC, who seems to get a  little antsy when he dips below three or four a days).

I feel a little guilty, and certainly indulged, when I think of poor Tammy and others out there in blog land who get multi-day (or week) stretches of chastity, even when their Domme’s (or wives) are sharing the same bed with them.

But I suspect there is method to Mistress's  “madness” when it comes to keeping Mick’s wok-a-day cock well exercised. It certainly keeps me content and limits any impulse to “go astray”, something that Mistress needlessly worries about. And I suppose it does keep my components at a productive operating level, ready to assume their duties in full once Mistress is back here in River City.

It will be a particularly unusual to be here alone in the Executive Suite tomorrow, our usual Switch Day. I suspect when my own tool gets put to work tomorrow morning, my mind will go back and consider some of our more intriguing Switch Days. Like the one shown below, when Mistress was bound to her desk downstairs, and I gave her a good sound hand spanking before sliding my cock into her from behind.

Then there was this little session, when Mistress got a nice firm cropping before she was forced to her knees to suck her work-a-day cock.

I hope she has a chance to see the photos tomorrow, and consider what waits her next Sunday.

It will be a very special Mother’s Day, Mistress.

The Case of the Missing Riding Crop

Slave was up early again Sunday – trying to stay on East Coast time – so I had time to plot and prepare for a suitable switch scenario for my sleeping Mistress.

Well she wasn’t sleeping that deeply …. At one point, about 4:30 am Mtn. time, she called for me ….

“Slave…. Why are you up and out of this bed so early…..”

I came back in, slid into bed next to her, held her close and explained I had my fair allotment of sleep and was up working on my “homework”…. That seemed to mollify her, so I continued to coo and cuddle her until she was back in a sleepy comfort zone, allowing me to slide out of bed, finish the blog, and prepare….

Taking the lead from SFP’s recipes for home made spreader bars, I commandered one of our daughter’s older, disused ski poles. With some black leather ankle cuffs from our toy collection, a cable tie and a ski pass lanyard, I improvised a very efficient device for Mistress’s restraint…. The preview photo from yesterday show’s the end result.

When the sun was beginning to color a sky that had begun to cloud up to the West over night, I calculated Mistress had enough of  her “beauty rest”, and came back into our bedroom. Slipping into bed next to her, I spooned against her, waking her with some soft caresses along her hip and thighs, my mouth pressed against the back of her neck.

Soon she was fully awake, and I handed her the laptop to read the morning’s entry while I assembled the other supplies I would need.

“It’s that time, Mistress….”

After a trip to the bathroom, she surrendered her lush, naked body to my custody for the duration.  The red cuffs were locked on her wrists, linked close together in front.  And then I pulled out the spreader bar….

“What’s that, Slave…. “

“Isn’t it obvious Mistress….”

No doubt intrigued, she lay back on our bed, and meekly allowed me to tighten the black leather cuffs around her ankles, assuring that her legs could not be pulled closed to deny me access.

But there was one further surprise in store.

“OK, Mistress, slide your legs around the side of the bed and prepare to stand up….”

“Huhhh?  I can’t stand up with this contraption on me….”

“Oh yes you can …. Here, let me help you….”

I leaned down, helped pull her upright …. She was playing possum a bit now…. And took her weight on me, before guiding her a few feet away from the bed. We stopped under the eye hook that had been screwed  into the over head viga (wooden beam) in the center of our bedroom.

(One wonders what my visiting Mother in Law thought about that accessory when she used the cabin earlier in the fall).

Before Mistress had time to lodge her protest, her bound wrists was connected with some colorful climbing rope to that eye screw, and Mistress was upright, standing on those splayed legs, held up by the rope linking her wrists to that solid beam.

“Not fair Slave….. “

“Oh really…. “

I came around in front of her, one arms around her my tongue forcing its way between her protesting lips, my other hand sliding down between her spread legs.

“But I can smell your arousal already Mistress…. And feel it….”

Surprise: Her lips were already plump, damp, ready to be fucked. I swirled a finger there for a while, making her wriggle and wimper, her head thrown back.

I could have made her come in an instant.

But I retracted that damp digit, holding it to her nose, pressing it against her lips.

“Taste yourself, slut….”

She did.

“You, don’t like, Slave….”

“Oh but I do, Mistress…. I’m addicted.  But first things first.”

I stepped back, walked over to retrieve the riding cop she had used on me Saturday afternoon…. It had been next to our “toy bag.” But … no longer.

“Damn.  I swear that riding crop was right here, Mistress….”

She expressed indifference with a shrug. No loss to her, after all.

But….that gesture seemed to convey something more sinister.

“Did you hide it from me, Mistress …. Tuck it away somewhere so it would be MIA on switch day?”

She laughed.

“Why would I do that Slave?”

What a tease.

I stepped back to her.  A sudden hard slap from my palm greeted her bottom. She lurched, tugging at her restraint.

“Ouch….. , that hurt Slave…”

I added a few more spanks. She jerked against my palm, squirming to avoid it.

“I’m sure M would handle this hidden crop scam much more firmly than I will, Mistress.”

“He might, Slave….”

That gave her something to contemplate, as I let her languish as I did a more thorough search of our room and the adjoining closet.

But still no crop.

“Well, Mistress… hiding the crop only ratchets up your punishment….maybe that’s what you intended?

“But I did not hide it Slave….”

Another slap to her ass.

“Silence…. Unless you want to confess and tell me where you put it….”

That silenced her, at least for a few seconds. Enough time for me to step into the kitchen and retrieve a substitute implement. Taking Aisha’s lead, a grabbed slim wooden spoon, no hole in the middle to make those lovely marks, but it would do in a pinch.

I did some evil brandishing of the spoon to show Mistress what was in store.

“Oh no…Slave… that might hurt.”

I had gotten her attention.

And apparently it did hurt . As the spoon landed solidly on Mistress’s helpless bottom I was rewarded with all sorts of whining, moaning and complaints. And her butt was taking on a nice rosy glow.

Maybe I was getting  into the M zone…. No easy feat.

But I stopped when it seemed I had taught her the proper lesson, letting my hand linger on that warm bottom, and dip between her ass cheeks….  confirming that she was every bit as sodden and wanton as I expected. Within seconds those moans of pain were replaced with a different sort of moan.

Then I retreated, to her apparent displeasure, to snap a few photos to share with you and M.

I put down the camera and reached for the Hitachi.

“You’ve been a good girl, Mistress… despite hiding the crop… I think you’ve paid your debt for that crime, so maybe you are entitled to some “early release””.

I shed the dark blue robe I’d been wearing until now, approached her from the rear, naked, my firming cock pressing between her cheeks. She wriggled a bit to greet it. 

My left hand reached around her, toying with a nipple, as my right hand thumbed on the power tool and pressed it gently between those splayed thighs.

Mistress’s response was electric. Her hips thrusting forward to catch the vibrations, her legs straining against the spreader bar, frustrated in their inability to grip it closer….

But, too soon, I felt those familiar vibrations from her core….

I swiftly pulled the Hitachi away, clicking it off….

Still clinging to her, I scolded… “were you just coming Mistress….without asking permission?”

“Almost Slave…..but  not quite”.

I wasn’t so sure that she had not slipped one in, but I took her at her word.

“Shame on you,,,, Let’s start again… but you need to beg….”

This time I thrust the Hitachi between her legs from behind… pressing it up against her sensitive and needy parts….gently at first, then with more purpose. It had a quick impact….

“Ohh … please may I come Slave.”

Her head was thrown back against my shoulder, her fragrant hair thick and wild, against my face.

I was in a merciful mood….

“Yes, Mistress…. Feel free…”

And of course, within seconds, she was pitching over the edge, hanging from her bonds, squeezing her thighs as best she could against the churning tool. Her cries of delight were a symphony to her humble Slave.

But it seemed a shame to end things there, and I had certain needs that were calling to be filled… or in this case be the filling.

I unhooked Mistress from the overhead viga, helped her to the bed, then took the rope and lashed her still bound wrists over her head to another  eye screw mounted at the corner of her bead.

Now she was on her back, her knees bent, ankles still connected to that converted ski pole. 

Very vulnerable.

So vulnerable that after some soft caresses designed to renew Mistress’s energy level, the Hitachi was redeployed, to the usual devastating effect.

She begged some more, and then, after I had given permission, she begged for me to turn the tool off, ovepowered by all that stimulation.

As she settled back into the bed, spent, I freed her ankles.

“It might be hard for me to fuck you with this pole down there, Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave…. And now I need that cock….”

She got it, all right. First, with me straddling her mouth, feeding it to her, allowing  her to lavish it with attention.

She does that so very well, her velvety tongue and soft lips gliding and swirling along that growing shaft ….

Ahhh.

But I  hear Mistress waking now. She’s probably wondering why I’m not in bed next to her …. Keeping her warm. Ready to worship. 

So I will leave the rest to your imagination.

(Oh, BTW…. The riding crop turned up later in the afternoon. Somehow I had not noticed it pressed up against a door jam, a curtain hovering over it.

Oops.)

Consumer Research

UCTMW ENTERPRISES, LLC
MEMORANDUM

From: Mick Collins, Executive Editor
To: M, Western Correspondent

Re: Result of Consumer Research on your “Instructions”

While the experience is still fresh in my mind, I wanted to report back on my efforts to utilize your helpful instructions on the proper spanking of a recalcitrant female.

As you know, our publication often likes to publish little “how to do” articles that our readers might find compelling and useful in their work-a-day lives.

Of course this is hardly an original idea. Lame-stream media outlets like the New York Times frequently publish recipes to use for posh holiday gatherings, and even cocktail recipes. One of our more comparable competitors, SFP, through her blogging empire sometimes posts handy “how to do” articles, like the one on how to makes a spreader bar from materials available at Home Depot. And you will surely recall how Aisha did a consumer review article on the higher and better uses of Risotto Spoons.

So, after we were surprised to see your article on “spanking methodology” pop up in the in-box that we reserve for you --- I could barely see it at first amidst the cob webs – I figured that our readers would love this helpful guide.

But first some quality control. Before we could give your procedure the coveted “UCTMW Seal of Approval”, we needed to do some consumer testing and take some illustrative photos.

Fortunately, it was Switch Day here at the corporate headquarters in River City, so our revered publisher, Molly Collins, could be compelled into serving as the test pilot in this experiment.

After Molly had read the morning papers a bit, I called her attention to the chair I had brought up from the dining room.

“Why do I have to be the sacrificial lamb on this one, Slave,” she whined. “I’ll bet one of the sub-sisters would be happy to volunteer.”

“I know, Mistress. But remember you chopped the travel budget in our latest austerity measures.”

Times are tough in the publishing world these days. And we don’t want to have to sell out to Ruppert Murdoch. The next thing you know you’d be seeing shots of Sarah Palin getting her bottom paddled.

Mistress agreed to be the subject of our little demonstration. But, as you might expect, getting her full co-operation was not an easy task. There’s a reason she’s the Publisher here and I am the lowly Executive Editor.

“Ok… first thing: take off that lovely black nighty, Mistress. You are supposed to be nude.”

“Huh…. Why? I don’t remember that part….”

I re-read the instructions to her, and she agreed, reluctantly, pulling off her soft black nighty to reveal that lovely, shapely body that has drawn so many page views to UCTMW in the last year.

“Now for your inspection.”

I was sitting on the chair. She was positioned in front of me. My fingers slid up the inside of her well conditioned thighs, exploring the path that I know well, dipping into her clean shaven folds.

“Wet already, Mistress? Our WC will be pleased to hear that this part of his instructions seem to have some appeal.”

She just gave me a snooty little sigh. But her slight undulations suggested that drawing your name into the conversation had a certain helpful effect.

I used my palms to rotate her around, giving me a close-up of her firm, rounded bottom. And my fingers slid between her legs, probing a bit, making her squirm as I invaded her virgin ass.

“I’m sure he likes the thought that you’ve saved this for his special occasion cock, Mistress.”

That seemed to make her ass tighten it’s firm grip on my invading digit.

We were ready to proceed with our demonstration.

"Okay, Mistress time to assume your position". I pulled her down, onto my lap.

It took us a while to get her oriented in the right way. My right leg over her left leg. Her right hand gripped by my left hand. Her bottom open and accessible to me. And before I got started I snapped this illustration to help our readers when they conduct this little exercise in the privacy of their own bedrooms … or dungeons, as the case may be.

Then I proceeded to thwack away with an open palm.

I had music on the mask the sound of flesh hitting flesh, since Surly Teen # 2 was in the house.

Mistress squirmed and wriggled as you would expect. But your instructions worked excellently. With her leg under mine and my hand gripping hers, she was going no-where.

The only problem was the chair. Mistress was clearly worried about her precarious balance, and the risk that she might slide off onto the floor.

Now maybe this is a good thing, making what is supposed to be an uncomfortable position all the less comfortable.

But Mistress can whine. And whine she did.

“I’m afraid I’m going slide off the chair, Slave.”

It may take a stronger more compelling Dom to take charge and get the subject of this exercise to suck it up and take her medicine, even if the is afraid she might slide onto the floor.

To that extent, this Executive Editor may not have been the best person to conduct our little experiment. I am wondering if some of our readers can persuade their Dom’s to follow your prescription to more … compelling effect.

Or maybe if our travel budget gets restored in the coming year, you can demonstrate yourself.

So after about 20-30 good strokes, and a good deal of Mistress squirming and whining, I succumbed before we got to the all important “begging and pleading” phase of the proceedings.

Maybe a wider, deeper chair would work better. Will have to keep a look out for that type of furnishing.

But I felt that Mistress deserved a little additional punishment for her failure to complete our mission.

She was positioned on our bed. Her hands were bound behind her with those leather handcuffs we bought on San Francisco years ago. And I picked up that long shoehorn.

The result from the combination of spanking and the shoehorn was a very nice rosey ass, as shown below:


Now I could have concluded the experiment there. Mistress was squirming delightfully against the bed as I took a slow taunting pace with the shoe horn. At one point I slid onto her my firm cock poking its way between those sheets. The moaning that induced was delicious for an Executive Editor's ears.

But it seemed despite all those orgasms on Saturday, Mistress’s participation in our little demonstration deserved a reward.

That’s when I reached for the Hitachi. Somehow it had survived your lengthy Saturday evening conference call.

As I flicked it on, Mistress gave off a little anticipatory shudder, and spread her legs as I slid it between her ass cheeks.

The rest is subject to an Executive Privilege.

Any input on how we could have done this consumer research more effectively will be appreciated.

Some Helpful Guidance from Our Western Correspondent

If there was day when Mistress deserves some orgasm denial  for her Switch Day, it is surely this one.

In the morning, Mistress was lavished with her usual therapy – her Slave’s tongue, and then, after she read my homework and ‘Nilla’s clever blog about that fetching “fictional” Domme, Slave’s firm “work-a-day”  cock.

At least a few orgasms were to be had there, before our morning bike ride

Then in the afternoon, after various mundane tasks were completed, Mistress ordered me upstairs.

“It’s that time Slave…. Get out my supplies.”

She meant her strap on and lubricant.

It had been a few weeks, and Slave was probably due.

But beforehand, Mistress said I probably also needed some cropping.

“But it’s hard for me to come up with a good excuse Slave….you’ve been pretty good lately.”

Of course I take pride in that, but….

Mistress had retrieved a very whippy crop from our closet. She was thwacking it a bit against her palm. Measuring it’s weight.

“Ok…. How about your rant this morning, when [Surly Teen #2] took your car and didn’t tell you….”

“But I needed those leaf bags in the trunk, Mistress.”

“I don’t like rants, Slave….

Thwack.  Ouch.  That stung.

“Will you do it again?”

“No… Mistress.”

Thwack.

“Liar….”

The blows rained down. And of course, Mistress was right. I probably would do it again.

By the time she was done, my bottom was very sore.  And she snapped a shot to transmit to M, and to sahre with all of you. You can see it on yesterday’s preview.

All of this got done with Mistress’s strap on cock bobbing in front of her.

She snapped a shot of that as well.

“The Domme’s eye view”.  (You can see that photo too in last night’s “preview” entry.)

When she texted that photo to M, she received   a prompt, “fucking HOT”, in return. 

Instant gratification.

And as Mistress positioned and then plunged into me, she came with a certain ferocious enthusiasm. Maybe twice. And there were more orgasms as I fucked her with the little probe stuffed inside me, assuring that my cock would remain nice and hard.

(Did I tell you I had the hard steel ring from my cock cage on…. That always assures a longer, harder fucking, as Mistress has come to know).

But she wasn’t done adding to her O count for the day.

When we woke from our post sex nap, Mistress checked her I-phone and there was a message from our Western Correspondent.

“M wants to know if I can talk with him at 6, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”  I had plans to watch my alma mater on TV. Mistress was going to dinner later with the Surly Teen #2. This would work out fine.

About 90 minutes later, Mistress came downstairs, with that glazed, contented look on her face.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Not sure…. I lost count, Slave.”

I will have to look for a spike in our electric bill. Sounds like the Hitachi got a work out.

But now it’s Switch Day, and out Western Correspondent has some ideas on how to handle Mistress this morning. We got this dispatch from his yesterday and I plan to follow directions:

“Your lazy and underproductive WC has decided to do his job and provide some blog fodder.  For the entertainment of the sub sisters and a certain incorrigible  young lady, I provide the following tutorial on how to properly tan a young lady's bare bottom:

Have her strip bare naked.

Have her stand before you naked while you inspect her at your leisure.

Make sure she keep her hands at her sides and does not try and cover up

Embarrassment is good at this time.

Sit in a comfortable chair (you might be there for a while) with no arms to impede your swing.

Take her over your left knee.

Rap your right leg over both her legs.

Say hand please

She will then present her right hand to you.

Grab her right hand with your left hand

Now she is not going anywhere and you can give her a good talking to about the reason she finds her self in such a compromising position.

Then begin to spank her hard with your hand or implement of choice (a shoe horn would work well).

Stop often to lecture her about her bad and insolent behavior.

Don't pay any attention to her pleas for forgiveness. 

Or her howls, kicking and screaming.

Be strong, and do you duty.  

Remember she will say or do any thing to get out of her spanking at this time.

Pay no attention at all to her and spank her till you decide she has been properly punished.

Then have her go stand in the corner with her bright red bare bottom on display for you to admire as you have a nice soothing cocktail of your choice.

You deserve it after all that hard work.

I mention this only because I read your last blog entry with great interest, I actually said 10 extra not 10 total.   The 10 extra were for asking impertinent questions, as I know your are aware she is prone to do.   So use this information as you will on Sunday.

As always I remain, your lazy and underproductive,

Western Correspondent.”

Thank you, M…. I will see if I can live up to these high standards.

Mistress Gets a Spanking

Mistress stopped by for some worship after lunch on Thursday, allowing me to take this picture of her as she makes her luscious cunt available for suitable worship. Hot lace up boots, don’t you think?

But that’s not what this entry is about…..is it?

No. Our sordid little tale of the day begins on our drive home.

“I think the Western Correspondent is a little pissed at me, Slave.”

This peaked my curiosity. Much more interesting than the gossip we had been sharing about the local non-profit poo-bahs.

“Oh really, Mistress…. Why would that be?”

“I told him maybe I need a REAL boyfriend…. Not one I just talk to on the phone or trade text messages with….”

This part got the attention of other parts of me.  Actually a specific part.

Twitch. Damn. How predictable.

“Oh, really….. I bet that might get M a little annoyed, Mistress.”

I was going to ask for a little more detail, a rationale for her provocation, but then the chime on her text message went off.

I didn’t need to be told who it was asking for her attention.

“He says I need a spanking, Slave….”

“I am always happy to oblige, Mistress. Sunday is just a few days away.”

“I’m telling him ‘who put you in charge’”.

A few seconds later I heard the little chime again.  She giggled. And she squirmed  just a tad too. Mistress has her own tell-tale twitch.

“He says, ‘you did, Slave’….”

Ask him if I should advance that spanking to this evening, Mistress.

A few moments later we got M’s response.

“He says I should get ten hard ones tonight, with the shoe horn, Slave.”

Suddenly Mistress was in a compliant mood.

Inttiguing.

We arrived home, Mistress got some lasagna ready and popped it in the oven. Then it was upstairs to our Chambers.

I switched on the Evening News to dampen any unsavory  sounds for curious teens. Don’t want them to think Dad abuses  Mom.

Mistress stripped off that black form fitting dress you see above. She was down to her black bra and tights.  I pulled a chair into the center of the room. The shoe horn – wooden and 15 inches or so long –was looped over the chair already.

How convenient.

“Pull down the tights and get over here Mistress. “

She was very obedient, settling over my lap.

My fingers couldn’t help but test and tease her.

“Hmmm…. Already wet, Mistress. You are his little slut, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am Slave.”

She took her medicine well. And when I got to ten, alternating cheeks, nice red stripes on her firm ass, she said, “that’s enough, Slave.”

“You were keeping count, Mistress?”

“I suppose I was….”

I gave her two more just for her own good. Then my fingers explored again. As I expected:

Soaking.

It’s so nice to have her squirming on my lap that way.

I got her close to her particular edge, but decided there was another, better way to skin this pussy.

“Come over to the bed, Mistress. Now it’s time for your reward.”

She lay there, on her back, her tights still drooped down to her thighs, pinning them together a bit. Not quite bondage, but a taste of it.

I reached for the Hitachi, on the floor under the bed, and thumbed it on.

Mistress seemed pleased, then increasingly excited as I pressed it home, exactly where she likes it.

But what was interesting was how she fought it,  dragged out her inevitible surrender to its cunning and ultimately irresistible pulsation.

“It’s Ok to imagine it was M spanking you Mistress, and now forcing you to come for him.”

“I know, Slave….”

But it seemed Mistress was trying to struggle against it, trying to deny the tool’s power, and M’s power over her too.

But, alas, poor Mistress, we know how that comes out in the end, don’t we?

When Mistress finally surrendered to the inevitable, it was with one of those moaning, sobbing orgasms that left her with tears streaking the mascara left over from her day at the office.

It’s the kind of display that makes a Slave proud.  Nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done.

And afterwards, once I helped her slide out of those tights, she took my cock in hand and made sure I surrendered to her too.

Horniness is the Mother of Invention

We were tucked away in this old Victorian “rooming house” at the Lake Michigan Beach. Leaves almost gone from the trees.

Chilly wind blowing off the lake.

Winter coming on.

Our friends from out west were off with their team on the flight home.

So the apartment we had rented with them in mind was now all ours. And as I worked on yesterday morning’s blog, I reconnoitered the furnishings and fixtures to see what I could improvise for a suitable switch opportunity when my Mistress woke from her beauty rest.

As you can see, I settled on a the little 4 person dining room table tucked against the wall, repositioning it closer to a plug so that the mighty Hitachi, still tucked into Mistress’s bag from her naughty phone sex date in River City with M, could be readily deployed.

When Mistress finally awake around 8:45 am, I was ready to pounce. She read the blog and your comments.

(“My, Aisha and Sin beat me to the blog this morning Slave”)

Then I pounced. Black rope was ready to bind her wrists in front.

“Not so tight Slave….do you think I’m really going to try to escape?”

“It’s always possible, Mistress.”

Then I pulled her up and out of bed.

“What….. where are we going.”

“There is a nice balcony out front, Mistress. Just think what the cool wind would do to your nipples….”

“You wouldn’t ….”

Well, I would actually …. But not this morning.

I pulled her into the little living room, over the table, onto which I had positioned a thick cushion. Fixed her hands to the front legs. Then roped her thighs to the rear legs in that nice and available position illustrated above.

There was then a photo opportunity. One shot was on my little cell phone. A Text message to our Western Correspondent.

“Look what you are missing, M.”

Was that cruel? Maybe. But Mistress seemed very supportive of the idea.

“That will be a nice wake up for him, Slave.”

Photos taken to record the moment, I turned my attention to Mistress.

My probing fingers demonstrated how wanton she really is. All that Molly juice. All those little wiggles.

“Wet already, Mistress…..and I haven’t even started.”

I stated with my broad western belt.

“Owww…. That hurts Slave.”

“are you asking me to stop?”

“Ummmm ….. no.”

Of course not. My little slut for the day liked it. It got her ass all squirmy, witching back and forth as she made her pathetically unsuccessful efforts to avoid each slap from the belt.

once she turned a nice rosy glow, it was time for her to feed a bit on my cock. Which, once nicely firmed up, poked and probed at her…. The angle and height of the table did not really permit a good solid fucking from behind, but the teasing was nice for both if us. Well at least it was for me.

Then there was some hand spanking. Some more teasing with probing fingers.

Mistress was moaning a bit now, well Into her role as my Slave for the day.

That’s when I reached for the Hitachi, tucked under a nearby couch.

Mistress started when she hurt the low hum as I turned it on.

“Ohhh…. You found it Slave….”

“of course, Mistress…. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

As I slid it between her legs, pressing it home, Mistress was almost immediately begging ….

“DO you mind if I come now, Slave….. I really need to …..”

“I think what you need is to beg…..”

She was writhing now, tugging against the ropes that bound her thighs apart, and to the legs of the table.

“Oh…. God….. please Slave… please.”

I slid the device down her thigh a bit, damping her urgency. At least so I thought.

“Ohhh…. So mean Slave…. I need it…. Put it back…. Please.”

I am a pushover, as you all have come to know.

So I buckled to Mistress’s pleas. The power tool was quickly back where Mistress wanted it – pressed home against her twitching, soaking folds.

“Oh, yes…. Slave….. now please may I come..”

“Yes, Mistress…. You may.”

It took no longer than 5 seconds before Mistress was straining all the harder against the ropes, squeezing her thighs in a death grip around the business end of the Hitachi, crying out her passion, hips flaying against the table.

I could have relented then, knowing she had her wanton way, but I continued to press it home until she rode the cunning vibrations through another mighty cum.

As she collapsed against the table, she was making another plea….

“Turn it off now please Slave…. So sensitive….”

And of course I did.

Her legs were unbound then. But not her hands. I wanted to control her still, leading her by the black rope into our little bedroom. Spreading her on the bed, on her tummy.

Then I took my reward from behind, sliding hard and deep into her, burying my face in her long, fragrant hair.

But now I’m hearing Mistress’s footsteps upstairs. And I am thinking that this story may have to resume tomorrow…. I have some other plans.