Femdom Night at the Museum?

Yesterday, while the cute Co-Eds were sleeping in, Mistress and Slave took in a nearby museum devoted to Jewish heritage and life in Paris. After we wandered through the impressive (and heartbreaking) exhibits, we stepped into the Museum book store. My search for a gift to bring home to my grand-kids was quickly diverted when I noticed a book that seemed to focus on the idolatry of the female gender - or at least their feet.  Here's the cover:

And here are a couple of other illustrations:

Maybe someone more facile at French can interpret the cover for me?

But your correspondent is having trouble figuring how this inspiring guidebook ended up in the museum collection.

Now I'm going to get back to sucking on Mistress's toes.

Weekend Round-Up

Mistress had a busy week.

Last night, after we had enjoyed some "reunion" sex upon my return from work to the UCTMW World HQ, we did a little count of Mistress's sexcapades of the week with her "tag team":

Tuesday: wake up sex with her slave. Then pre and post dinner sex with her lover Jay.

Wednesday: wake up sex with Jay. Then some gentler homecoming sex with her slave.

Thursday: wake up sex with her slave. Then some "raucous" (her word) sex with Jay after dinner. ("We had a few drinks with dinner, and I think we just kind of passed out when we were done, Slave....quite frankly it's hard to remember it all").

Friday: some early morning cock riding by Mistress with Jay. Then our "kinder. gentler" brand of copulation at the end of the day.

So 4 days, two lovers, and lots of cums for Mistress.

"I'm a little tender down there, Slave.... and tired too."

And who wouldn't be.

Last night we took in a movie at home, Mistress spread across the couch, her feet on my lap. I took the opportunity to suck and lick them, while rubbing them with my hands, savoring that musky, earthen aroma of her soles.

But while Mistress had her clean shaven folds on full display, still a bit damp from our evening's activities, it was clear that while I could look, I'd better not touch.

"No touching slave.... my parts need a rest."

No doubt.

Bay Left Behind

Slave is waiting here at the SFO airport, having wolfed down a breakfast burrito before boarding a plane headed west. I must say I am horny and looking forward to my reunion with the lovely Mistress Molly.

After my work was done yesterday morning, I had time to rent a bicycle and rode the system of bike trails across the Golden Gate and to Tiburon. Unfortunately, I did not have the time or address that would have allowed me to look up my favorite kinky writer, Ann Rice, who I believe has relocated there from NOLA.

All of the overtly sexy sights and sounds of the City did not ease my longing for Mistress.  There was this fetchingly attired  mannequin in the window of Agent Provacateur on Geary St.

And who could not think of kneeling before Mistress and massaging (or kissing) her well manicured feet when I saw this sign off of Polk St. on my way toward the waterfront by bike yesterday.

One of the more frustrating aspects of being Mistress's corresponding secretary, monitoring the ins and outs of her AM profile is that when we go on the road, the system must create the impression that Mistress is now a denizen of not only the town she is visiting, but all sorts of other places. And in this case, while she remained at home, her Slave made the mistake of monitoring from the left coast. Suddenly she was innundated with more than 100 private showcase requests, and quite a few articulate entreaties from the Bay area. All that makes clear that the pool of applicants in River City is much less diverse and appealing than what a woman with an itch to cuckold her husband can access on the coast.

There was a guy staying at a nearby hotel who sent his text number in case Mistress wanted to get together for a drink.

And there was this guy from Sausilito who sent a long message that I am sure Mistress might have found intriguing, if only to check out his view:


Hello Molly. Yes, I am highly selective. I have wasted a fair amount if time lately seeking women who "get it" - who are appreciative of what I bring to the table as a lover and friend. 

Any time I am with a woman I like, whether in bed or anywhere else, she will be the absolute center of my attention. She will feel absolutely adored and desired. She will know that by the way I look at her, the way I touch her, and the words I use to express my appreciation for her. No matter how handsome and successful a man is, it is imperative that he understand that the pleasure he gains from his woman is proportional to the pleasure he provides her. He must be skilled at reading her cues and navigating the paths to her centers of desire. He must understand and accept the fact that women are wonderfully complex, mysterious creatures and be able to understand that what stimulates her today may be a total turn off tomorrow - unless he realizes that she may want him to make the effort - and have the talent - to seduce her, to gently but firmly take lead her to a place of arousal. E must know when to cede control, and when to take it, when to follow her cues, and when to bend her to his will. 

I am that man.


I wonder who he uses to ghost write his material?

Sadly, Mistress did not score while I was away. She will have to make do with her work-a-day cock this evening, if all goes well and thunderstorms at O'Hare don't intrude.