It was a long day in the cage yesterday.
We were up early to take Surly teen #2 to the airport for a visit with a friend in NYC.
Mistress allowed me to use my fingers to get her off to a juicy one in the shower.
“I’d play with you too a bit, Slave. But I know that might make it harder for you to get the cage on.”
Very considerate of her, don’t you think?
So there I was, still dripping, as I shmushed my balls and cock through the hard steel ring, then forcing the cage part over my cock. Mistress always seems to take a certain delight in closing the tiny lock shut, knowing I am secured away until she sees fit to unlock me.
After the teen was on her way, Mistress was heading back to that tennis tournament to entertain some clients. Meanwhile I was buried in some work at my office. As the players took the court, and worked their serves up to 140 mph, Mistress would text me a photo from her courtside seat.
One came of a guy who’s fans call him “Rafa”.
“Hot?”, I texted back?
“Yes!” came her reply.
But two can play this game.
I shut my office door, lowered my pants, and positioned my tiny cell phone just so.
Snap.
“Hotter?”, I responded.
When the picture of my caged cock surrounded by my public fur popped up on her I-phone at courtside, I understand Mistress was a little surprised.
Later she confided that our Western Correspondent, M, was also texting her during that match – with some trash talk about how someday her lovely ass would succumb to his mighty cock.
So Mistress was being tagged team to distraction, even as she was distracting the both if us with shots of those hunksters throwing themselves around the court in front of her.
Served her right.
Mistress and I both headed home at about the same time.
The kids were now both out-of-state, which is always a cause célèbre. Our plan was a bike ride to the pool, where Mistress would slim her 30 minutes of laps as I perused the Times. Then back home for dinner .
But first worship was in order. The removal of my cage would not occur until Mistress had been satisfied. She slid off those black undies, and I slid to my knees.
Before getting down to business, I inhaled the musky aroma of her clean shaven parts. Intoxicating.
“Hope I am not too stinky down there, Slave. I was sitting out in the sun all day.”
And of course there was likely the intermittent flow of juices, particularly with M’s salacious text banter.
“Not at all Mistress. You are marinated just the way I like it.”
And I showed my gratitude by helping her with tongue and lips to a nice writhing explosion that earned my release from that little confining prison.
Ahhhhh.
Later last night, after exercise, dinner, and some mindless TV, highlighted by Mistress parading about the house in some skimpy pinkish and black nightwear, we had a conference call.
After some months of reading her naughty blog, and some friendly emailing repartee, we had made an appointment to talk to one of our blogger colleagues. A first for us. (She can comment if she wants you to know who we are referring to.)
Hving this secret part of our life certainly has its charms. But sometimes keeping this far more exciting part of our life a secret is hard. It’s nice to have a few folks who we can talk with who are in on the secret.
So as Mistress and I lay across the bed, in various states of undress, the speaker phone between us, it was nice to trade tips, observations and backstories with someone who knows more about us from our blog than about 99.8% of the folks in our “real” life.
And we got some good, practical advice.
“You can never Dom too much.”
Point well taken.
And Molly heard a very nice endorsement, from one with some recent experience, for getting that ass fucking M has promised.
After that talk, it definitely remains one of her prime ASS-pirations.
And, for those out there who worry about “poor” Mick, after the conference call ended, there was plenty of time for some non-ass fucking at the Collins household.
