No Place Like Home

Slave finally is back in River City after four days away from my loving Mistress.  And while poor Molly had plenty of action with her lover Jay on Saturday evening and Sunday morning, she even went without any sexual action for nearly 48 hours until my return on Tuesday evening.

"I can't believe you left me alone with a broken Hitachi, Slave....."

Clearly that was a dereliction of duty. I should have planned some redundancy in the event of an equipment failure. I'm sure they must have a back-up on that international space station, just in case. 

Harry Haversacker asked the other day whether I had followed the "no touch" rule on my sojurn to the east coast. While I know some of you probably are skeptical, the truth is that I "toughed it out", so that by Tuesday evening the earth definitely moved for Slave by the time I had finished worshiping and settled into the "all you can eat" buffet that Mistress generously provided amidst her clean shaven folds.

By last evening things had settled back to normal here at the UCTMW World HQ. As we relaxed in bed after a long work day, Mistress mentioned that Jay was texting. 

"He misses me Slave.... we're going to meet for lunch tomorrow, though I think it will be a real lunch, not a 'nooner'. "

Every now and then Mistress needs to be wined and dined by her lover.

"And he wants to know if you've gotten me a new Hitachi.... he likes to watch me use it on myself, slave."

"Tell him Amazon confirmed shipment.... it's on the way, Mistress."

I guess I should have ordered two, just in case.

Empty Nest Frolic

Out here at our Mountain Hideaway, Mistress and Slave have been doing some things that would have been "sketchy". according to our daughter who "sadly" is no longer with us.

The door to the "executive suite" no longer has to be closed.

On Sunday, Slave broke out the Hitachi, no having to worry about prying ears hear that buzz or the moans of delight it produced.

Monday afternoon, Mistress required me to insert the aneros and enjoyed riding the extra hard cock it produced, oblivious to the enthusiastic sounds it produced from both of us.

Then there was the naked sunbathing yesterday afternoon. It may only have been in the high 50's but the sun was intense, and Mistress could not resist working on that all over glow she relishes.

But the best example of what you can get away with when there is no judgmental teen tutting away: Mistress in her skimpy nighties scampering across our front "yard" dodging Prairie Dog holes in order to catch one more dramatic sunset shot:

HNT / Hitachi Transit 2012

Did you catch all the hype about the Venus Transit this week?  Because of local cloud cover, I missed any opportunities to go blind through direct observation, but I did catch some rather impressive photos, like this one:

But the more I thought about it, the more it reminded me of a shot I took Sunday, as I was exercising my switch privileges. It was when I took a little frustrating "break" from using the hitachi on Mistress as she was tied face down on our bed.

 Downright Astronomical, isn't it?

I know the WC and Suzanne were skeptical about my ability to "keep it together" until last evening, when Mistress and Slave were finally reunited after a cruel two days of abstinence to accommodate her bike /cock riding sleepover  at J's "love shack". 

Suffice it to say that I always received good grades back in Catholic School under the "exercise self control" category.  I suspect the WC did not go that route, and was wanking off in the "cloak room" on an hourly basis back in 8th grade. As for Suzanne, I can imagine her mentally enslaving 6th and 7th grade boys by giving them teasing little glimpses of her inner thighs, and maybe more,  as they stold surreptitious  glances of her  down the aisle while a surly Nun was leading the daily rote recitation  from the Cathecism ( as in "Why Did God Make You?", etc.).

But rest assured, I was able to "save it" for my opportunity last night.  There was an appetizer of worship when we got home from work at about 6 pm, before heading out on a bike ride.... not nearly as long as the 20 mile extravaganza she enjoyed with J.

Then it was time for me to make dinner for Mistress and our cute Co-Ed.

But when dinner was done and the kitchen was cleaned there was no more lollygagging.

I think Mistress was enjoying the tease of it all though. She commanded me to insert my "device", the aneros, which she knew would be divine overkill. And after I brought her off with a nice lips induced starter cum, she used her soft fingers to get me to the pleading point.

Then she elected to ride my amped up cock to a few more rather dramatic cums of her own, before allowing her Slave to take his pleasure from the top. 

Ahhhh..... exquisite relief. My long abstinence nightmare was over. And, yes, dear friends, it was certainly worth the wait.

In Transit

As you can see from this photo, Mistress is all tech-ed up here at the Minneapolis airport, where we must change planes before heading to our mountain hideaway. Lap Top for blog reading and commenting. I-phone for text messaging with the WC, and , of course, her Kindle, with it's 36 books downloaded for a full spread of vacation reading.

As we sat here, Mistress checked in by phone with the WC. Rest assured, he had already "taken care of himself" this morning. But alas, Mick and Molly are still O-less today, having gotten up at 4:45 am for our early flight.

Not that Mistress didn't do OK yesterday.

There was some worship at my office, facilitated by her need to stop by and sign some documents needed to apply for the sullen teen's study abroad visa.

Then there was worship at home before our bike ride.

Finally, the WC and Mistress arranged for a little "date" at around 8 pm our time. Just the two and them, on the phone, with Mistress deploying her trusty Hitachi.

"How many, Mistress?", I asked when she finally wandered downstairs, her bottoms missing, to where I was reading the Times, the blogs and watching the raging Maddow on MSNBC, all at the same time.

"Just three, Slave."

Tough day.

But by the time we settle into our little mountain cabin this afternoon, I'm hoping she will be ready for a little more action.

Looking for your Input

Today we’re looking for a little input, on a couple of subjects.

First, on photos of  Mistress’s lovely bottom. After our morning sexual engagement, Mistress was busily at work primping for her Monday workday. The image of her sweet ass framed by her turquoise thing inspired me to pick up my little camera and snap a few shots.

Later, last night, as I smirked and snarked my way through the GOP debate, Mistress asked to see the photos I had taken, and whether I planned to put any of them on the blog.

Her original review was negative. She is protective of her image (not as protective as a certain ½ term Governor, but still….) and retains the right to veto any thing I might post. But I offered to do a little cropping and refocusing of things to enhance the image. No alterations mind you… but ‘presentation’ can be critical.

She seemed pleased with my work, which is the image that follows:

But she was not completely satisfied, and took her own hand at the image, exploiting some newly discovered features on her I-photo App. Here is her work product.

So friends, what do you think: which image would you prefer?

Another subject that came up yesterday, has to do with the staging of her next date with our WC, the rogue Judge Miguel.

I was applying my lips and tongue to Mistress’s molten, moist folds yesterday in my office. Mistress had stopped by for a little appetizer before her lunch engagement.

That’s when she mentioned a logistical problem.

“M wants to have a date on Thursday morning, Slave… but I’m reluctant because (sullen teen #2) will be home….”

Summer vacation has begun, and without a summer job, our not-so-little teen is in  hang around the house in the am mode. Of course there’s no guarantee when she might get up, but there’s a good chance she might be conscious and lurking about at 10 am on Thursday, and a little suspect if her Mom has herself locked away in her bedroom, moaning into the handset, her power tool humming.

Even the thought of her barging in could be a mood killer.

I promised to think on her dilemma, and later that evening, in a little post work, pre-bike ride worship, me on my knees and Mistress spread across my bed, I shared some ideas.

“You could bring the Hitachi down to my office Mistress….”

“And would you just me hanging around, watching, Slave….”

“Well that’s a thought, but I was thinking I would just let you do your thing, and I could work in a conference room until your business was done. I don’t think anyone would mind. We could turn on some music to dampen your moans, Mistress.”

“But your office doesn’t have a lock, Slave…. what if someone walks in?”

“I think that’s pretty unlikely, Mistress….most folks take the closed door as a sign to come back later… or they’d knock.”

But Mistress didn’t seem inclined to take the risk. And it would seem pretty strange if I camped outside the door, standing guard.

I also reminded Mistress that we have one of those electrical converters we bought to let the kids plug their computers in while in the car for that long car ride out west at Christmas time.

“You could do it in the car, Mistress…. Find a quiet parking place….”

“Not sure I want to risk some curious cop knocking on my steamy window, Slave….”

So there you have it. Mistress wants to arrange a date with M, but the logistics are complicated. Any solutions?

Mistress gets a few in under the wire.

Slave is going to skip over Saturday morning sex…. I don’t want to bore you with too many details today, particularly since Mistress needs to be woken a little earlier than normal to give us proper time to impose the WC’s sentence – 10 rounds of teasing without orgasm -before our vanilla daily schedule kicks in.

So lets pick things up at around 5 pm – after a day of yard work, sunning with the Times (yes, the sun finally came out in River City), and a brisk double loop bike ride in the early summer heat.

Slave was stepping out of the shower…..

“Time to get my equipment out Slave…. you are long overdue for an ass fucking….”

True, it had been awhile. Not since Mistress’s trip to Eastern Europe. That might account for Slave’s occasional lapses into Mr. bossy pants the last few weeks.

“Will do…..”

I gathered up the components of her kit: leather harness; dildo; lube. Then I settled into bed as she took care of a few items.

She’d been texting with the WC… no doubt whining a bit about the “harsh” sentence he had imposed. Mistress does not like teasing and denial, though, you have to admit, darling, its far better than those clothespins… right?

The WC was firm but compassionate.  And no doubt his “sword” of justice will get put to use in his home venue this weekend.

She typed a few more characters, then put down her I-phone.

“I just told M that it’s time to fuck my slave in the ass….”

“I’ll bet he wishes he was on the receiving end, Mistress….”

“I think he might have something else in mind, Slave….”

By now, Mistress had her harness on, the mid-sized dildo in place. She looked very “commanding”, her lovely breasts hanging loose. She coated her tool with some lube and settled into bed next to me….she likes to fondle and kiss a while, making sure my work-a-day cock is already randy even before she begins her assault.

When she was satisfied, and a little randy herself, she rose up.

“Get in position, Slave….”

I did, fitting a pillow under my hips, raising my ass just a bit….then Mistress took over.

Though a few weeks had passed, Mistress’s aim was on the mark. She filled me with her first smooth thrust of her hips. The penetration had Slave quickly into his own little sub-space.

And despite the long bike ride, Mistress seemed particularly energized yesterday afternoon. Her thrusts were firm, swift, and rather effective….It wasn’t long before she was spasming against me, with a rather dramatic, moaning  climax from her exertions.

By now my ass was getting a little tender, and I let it be known that she should feel free to stop at her convenience. (I have a feeling I may hear about that later). She seemed spent herself, so told me to go insert my device and then return to the bed to fuck her properly.

“Of course, Mistress….”

Slave’s attitude properly adjusted, I found my aneros, and used it to replace Mistress’s own “cock”, before returning to the bed to take my own pleasure.

The ultimate result, I must say was impressive….one of those cums that came in a series of waves that seemed to last forever….

It appears that Mistress and Slave do have their rhythm back.

We rested a bit, then ended up watching a movie here… the Pianist, the Polanski film set in Warsaw during WW II. Mistress pointed out sights she had visited only weeks ago.

When we retired to our chambers, I expected we’d be reading a bit before shut-eye. And that’s how things started. But after about 20 minutes or so, Slave had one unexpected request.

“Slave…. I think I may need my Hitachi tonight…”

“Worried that it might be awhile before your next cum, Mistress?”

I was teasing of course. Earlier I had suggested we might want to get a head start on tease and denial, but she was having none of it.

“It’s not Sunday yet, Slave.”

And I knew it would be so very wrong to argue with Mistress.

So I reached under the bed for her trusty Hitachi. Soon she was laying back, that tie-dye nightie pooled at her belly button, as I guided the churning white bulb between those firm thighs.

That sucker does have a rather profound effect, reducing Mistress to a panting, moaning, vibrating little slut in no time.

Of course, she had a rather profound orgasm, in just a few minutes time. And she offered to return the favor.

I demurred. I figured it best to save my energy and juices for this morning’s execution of the WC’s sentence.

From Your On the Road Correspondents

Well, we’re at it again …. Separated for a few days, just as we were getting back into our normal groove in River City. Slave is in DC with sullen teen #2, making a college visit and spending time with other family members. Meanwhile, Mistress is at home with Sullen Teen #1. We will both get some solo bonding time with the girls who will soon be emptying our nest, but will be missing one another too.

This morning, I had an early meeting in a town to the north, but at least we got in some robust wake up sex which will have to tide me over until Sunday night.

But then Mistress already has a leg up on me on the O count. After the two she had this morning, complements of her Slave, she had a date with her “personal trainer” our WC, who no doubt had her deploying the Hitachi to tone certain hard to reach muscles.

When I was done with my meeting, I checked in with her.

“How was M, Mistress?”

“He was fine, Slave….”

She gives me that coy, sultry voice to rub it in a little deeper.

“And how many were you allowed this morning?”

“Just four, Slave….”

Oh, poor dear.

No doubt M had at least one of his own to go with her four. Let's hope he did not let that medicinal sperm go to waste.  Donna, has there been any research on how best to preserve it without losing its anti-depressant kick?

And I suspect Mistress too advantage of her private time with M to do a little ex parte communicating with “His Honor”, in hopes of mitigating the sentence he is do to impose for her misbehavior last Sunday.

I am a little concerned that the WC could end up succumbing to her importuning if he lets these deliberations run on too long.

It turns out that Donna, our Senior and Science Correspondent is also going away this weekend, but not to her heavenly reward, sans clothing. She’s headed to Florida for a few days, and has sent this dispatch on how Bill, our Director of Security International is considering how to handle her remotely in her absence.

                                                       Assistance Requested.

The other day Mick and I were talking on the phone about some blog things and then, what with Molly’s recent return from her trip abroad and the coin toss/clothespin/orgasm situation fresh in his mind, Mick asked about activities and requirements Bill is planning for my week away. I chuckled and said I hadn’t heard of any requirements. From behind me there came a deep male laugh followed by the word, “Yet!”

Oops.

With that, Bill opened a spiral notebook, flipped through the pages for a moment and then held up a page that had DONNA written in big letters across the top. It seems that Bill had indeed been making plans. Yesterday, after housing arrangements firmed up, we sat down together to go over Bill’s requirements and immediately began to run into some roadblocks. 

Let me explain, please.

See the picture of my chastity belt here? 

The problem is the chains. First, I checked the TSA website and it would seem that the chains mean that this isn’t an approved garment for wearing on airplanes. It has something to do with the metal and the need to take it off during security screenings and since Bill isn’t going and he would have the key...well,  I can accept that this would be inconvenient for the security people, and goodness knows I don’t want to be responsible for slowing down their already slow lines, so that was the first glitch.

 We talked about waiting until I arrived at my destination, putting on the chastity belt and mailing the key home to Bill, but an additional difficulty with the chastity belt is that I will be splitting my time between a medical facility, not likely to be wild about my belt, and the home of relatives. These relatives rescue dogs, many dogs. 

The dogs and puppies have free range of the  house and the sound of chain rattling means they are about to be leashed to go outside to go potty. Some of the little terrier dogs get so excited when they hear that sound that they let their bladders get ahead of the situation, if you know what I mean.  I wouldn’t want that to happen every time I move. Really. I wouldn’t.

Bill was thinking about sending the Hitachi since my suitcase will have to travel in the hold anyway, but as he thought more about the situation and considered the noise it makes, as well as the noise I make as I use the Hitachi, he decided this could be a problem in a home with such thin walls, especially considering the birds. 

This might be the time to share that these big hearted relatives also rescue birds, cockatiels, sun conures and parrots. They are gorgeous birds and there are cages all throughout the house. Yes, you sharp cookies, you guessed it, I’m going to be rooming with the parrots. I have visions of sitting at breakfast and listening to the parrots mimicking the sound of the motor of the Hitachi interspersed with cries of Oh, Ah, and Um followed by a hearty, Oh, shit!  

Ever creative, Bill’s next thought was to send a gag and my industrial strength pocket rocket, which the birds might sleep through, but on second consideration, probably not the dogs. Although, if I could arrange to howl at exactly the same moment as the dogs, I thought that might have a chance of working. But the walls really are thin and while I am certain our relatives understand that I have a sexual nature, I don’t really think they want to be aware, on any level,  that I am taking care of my needs in the room next door, even if it is Masturbation Month.

Of course, the perfect answer might be a very quiet remote controlled egg with Bill in charge of the remote, but the chances of that working over hundreds of miles is really remote.

Hahaha. Get it? Remote?

Okay, I need more coffee! In any case, Bill asked that I appeal to you for suggestions that take into account the dogs, birds, shared bathroom and paper thin walls. How about it guys? And, please, be gentle with me.  Hahaha, or not!

Your soon to be on the road correspondent,

Donna

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

Mistress on Quarantine

Suddenly we are into fall here in River City. Mistress finally broke out the black tights – one of fall’s perks for this Slave, who has a bit of a fetish for her in hose of any type.

So there she was in my office, after we shared some lunch with colleagues, her black tights off  one leg, still draped around the other.  I fell to my knees for a little worship, in lieu of a more calorie laden desert.

As I went about my task, Mistress mentioned her chat with M that morning, and the  selection he had made for her. 

In advance of their date, he had asked Mistress on Sunday evening to send him a photo of any faux cocks available, so he could select one for insertion in her tight, virginal ass during the date they have planned for this morning.

Here is the photo.  

His options are  our crystal cock, the little white aneros that I am  required to use when Mistress wants a particularly hard cock, and the beige dildo that gets used with Mistress’s strap-on.

“He picked the white one, Slave….”

As I sucked Mistress’s rosy clit between my lips, I had the image of her writhing on the bed, her ass filled with that little beast, begging for the right to come with the help of her trusty Hitachi. 

Argh.

“And he says that I am to be restricted … we can fuck tonight, but no orgasms for me in the morning before our date.”

“He’s going easy on you, Mistress.”

“I know…. But he says he doesn’t want to interfere with your husbandly rights, Slave.”

At about this time, Mistress was arching out of her chair as I brought her over the edge, with one of her luscious thighs bending over and around my neck, pressing my face even deeper into her smooth and juicy folds.

After Mistress was back to work, I sent an email to M, making sure he knew what his little slut had been up to during her lunch break:

“Mistress stopped by for some worship. But I felt maybe I should have denied her the orgasm, since you have a date in the am.  You are pretty indulgent....but she seems happy, so who can complain.  Mick”

Later in the afternoon I heard back from M:

|

“

Yes, I probably am too easy on her but I don't want to mess up my managing editor’s fun either. How’s that for sucking up by the humble WC?

Take care, M”

I responded as follows:

---

“don't worry about me, M... I enjoy seeing her squirm.”

And later I heard back:

“Ok, then next time I'll be stricter with the rules... would be my pleasure.”

Later, at home, Mistress commented on my brief if devious conversation with her Master.

“I saw those emails Slave….what are you two up to?”

“We have your best interests at heart, Mistress.”

“Oh yeah, according to M, you ‘threw me under the bus.”

We were  taking the teens to see “The Social Network” during the dinner hour, but beforehand I offered to worship. But – unwisely as it turns out – Mistress demurred until our return home.

But when she got home, Mistress was surprised to see an email form our Western Correspondent, waiting for her on the I-phone she had left behind.

“Damn…. The rules have changed, Slave. Now he says no orgasms tonight. But I am supposed to let you tease me and then tell him tomorrow what happened. He says it will make for a good blog.”

Mistress came to bed in her black tights. She knew I would enjoy their smooth texture as my hardening cock pressed against it.

And she did have to endure a long, slow tease. I had her gasping, her breathing ragged, as my thigh pressed between her legs, and my mouth grazed on her firm succulent nipples.

And when I peeled those tights off, and plunged into her, she moaned with delight.

It’s odd fucking her when she’s not allowed to come. My hard wiring operates on the “please her first” principle. So I am at a bit of a loss when the fucking is for my personal satisfaction, and Mistress’s frustration.

But after a while of that “anguish”, probably taking longer than was decent under the circumstances, I was able to focus sufficiently to explode with a mighty cry of ecstasy of my own, spurting in waves as Mistress “bucked up” beneath me.  

But with her permission, of course.

As I lay pressed against her, Mistress talked about her “ordeal”.

“That was hard, Slave…. It took a lot of discipline not to come….”

“Well it shows the level of your devotion, Mistress …. Doesn’t it make you feel like a good Slave to him.”

I thought about the times when I was on abstinence. I was required to fuck her for her pleasure, withdrawing before I was past the point of no return. It IS hard.  Very. But it also made me remember the reward at the end of that dark tunnel of denial.

“Just think how nice it will be when he gives you permission to come tomorrow morning, Mistress.”

No doubt, Slave.  And by the way - You are SO in that cage tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

And the steel ring is already tightly looped around my cock and balls.

 I will tease her a bit with my tongue this morning, as she reads the blog, then head to work, all locked up, to contemplate what she and M will be up to this morning.

It could be a long day.

Mistress Hits the Ground Running

Our readers will be – I think – happy to know that Mistress recovered quickly and quite wantonly from her 4 ½ hours in the saddle Sunday morning. While we mutually abstained Sunday, after those long bike and car rides, Mistress was more than game when I woke her to read the blog yesterday. She gladly accepted my devotions with lips and tongue, though I made sure that my attentions were gentle and therapeutic, not the more aggressive clit sucking that she sometimes enjoys.

And after a soothing orgasm, she spoke words that I always answer in the affirmative:

“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave?”

Later, as I was wading through an accumulation of paper on my desk, Mistress called to say she was stopping by to drop some papers off to a colleague.

“Would you like me to stop by, Slave?”

There is only one sane answer to that question.

Of course, Mistress.”

And once her errand was done, Mistress strode into my office, decked out in her black suit, bare legs and heels. She quickly assumed her throne for some midmorning worship. And her parts responded as you might expect, no worse for the weekend’s wear and tear.

On the drive home, Mistress reported on her chats with M during the day. They had not had the chance to talk on Sunday. So there was some mutual “after action” reporting to do about our rather depraved Saturday evening 3-way encounter.

“He says he was a little nervous about how my Slave might have reacted to it all.  Then, when he read the blog, he figured you were OK.”

“I think you know I was fine, Mistress. It was all pretty crazy, but very hot.”

“I told him that it was a little weird to be in the middle – worrying about making sure both of my men were enjoying themselves. I felt I had to make sure you were each getting equal attention.”

Yes, Mistress did quite a balancing act… Muttering endearments to me, while, over the phone, being very solicitous about the status of her “special occasion cock.”

“He said he knows what it’s like – when he’s had three ways, he always worries that one of his girls might feel that he is giving more attention to the other.”

Mistress laughed, eyes rolling. 

“He does have some wild and crazy stories, Slave….”

“Maybe we should make him sign a non-compete as our Western Correspondent. We don’t want to see him peddling those stories to some other blog, Mistress.”

“Not a bad idea, Slave.”

At home, our legs and the spitting rain told us that we could pass on our evening bike ride.

So we settled into bed for a little pre-dinner “rest” period. And of course, Mistress received some worship as she reviewed the comments made by our sub-sisters in response to Monday’s blog.

Sin’s questions about the contract got me thinking about when it was originally executed.  I found the original in my dresser drawer. As it turns out, the one year anniversary approaches at the end of the week .

There will certainly have to be a special anniversary edition of UCTMW to commemorate the occasion. Maybe I can call it a “collector’s edition” and double the newsstand price?

And yes, Sin, Mistress does have a great deal of leeway. She can share me with whomever she chooses. ‘Nilla certainly had that right. Her rights to me can be sold, leased  or assigned. (So far no bidders. Luckily the market for slaves is as slow as the real estate market, and I am probably way over priced and fully depreciated.)

And yes, Mistress has the right to acquire and train other subs, or to submit to a Master or two.

It’s All up to her.

How would I feel about that? It’s hard to anticipate, but Mistress is kind and merciful, as the little dialogue above shows. I am sure that if she ever felt the need to expand her stable, I would still be well taken care of here in the Collins’s household.

All this review, and  the latest episode of Mad Men,  had both of us “animated” by the time we retired to our chambers.

“Why don’t you insert your device, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

In bed, we kissed and canoodled a bit, with Mistress’s hands lingering on my hard and needy cock. Then I asked about her preferences.

“Would you like the Hitachi tonight, Mistress?”

“Hmmm…. I guess it’s been since Thursday.” (her date that morning with M). That might be nice Slave.”

Soon She was on her back, legs spread lasciviously. And I had the tool deployed, set on low, sliding it too and fro at the junction of those muscular, well exercised thighs.

She was very excited. Very. But soon began to complain.

“You’re frustrating me, Slave….. why do you do that?”

“I’m really not trying to Mistress… “

Well, I suppose I was taking a bit of the pressure off from time to time, sliding it off her sweet spot just a bit. I do like to see her squirm. What was the rush?

“No…there…”

Her hand was guiding me…. And I co-operated. Sort of.

“I guess it’s easier when you do it yourself…. When M is on the phone, instructing you where to put it….”

“Ahhh, yes…. It is Slave…. Right there.”

I decided I had made her squirm long enough, so took her cues, pressed firmly. And…

“Oh God ….. yes ….. AHHHHHHHH.”

Mistress hips launched themselves off the bed, she rolled to the right and the left, her thighs gripping the mighty little tool in a tight hug, her whole body coiled around the spot where machine and drippy little mound met.

Then she collapsed back onto the bed, lungs sucking in air through her sobs of relief.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

Is this where you came in?

“

To Switch or Not to Switch?

Our colleagues in smutty blogging, SFP and Sin have been reflecting on whether a true Sub-stress can ever really Switch into a big bad Domme in their recent posts. But for this ancient Irish type, self-reflection and analysis is not a strong point.

All I can say is that in the Collins household there has been an evolution that can be traced back to our early, illicit love nest days, when wide ties and Mike Dukakis were top of mind, and Molly often found herself bound, teased and well fucked on that futon bed we picked up at Pier One. So what led us to these days when the Slave happily abides by the Contract, and Mistress gets it on virtually with her remote Master?

It’s complicated.

Let’s just say that, after some difficult years, Mistress feels more comfortable with her Slave on a very short leash. And it works quite nicely for me.

Then again, Mistress still has that sub side that M tends too quite nicely. It’s an itch that needs to be scratched on a regular basis. (Or at least wants to be).

And several weekends ago, when her quite impressive ass fucking had me in a sub trance that led me to pass up my switch privileges on a Sunday morning, Mistress got mighty pissy.

It became quite clear that she likes what I do to her on the day she turns the keys over to me. Maybe I am merely M’s handy dandy surrogate in her erotic imagination. But whatever it is, it works in a rather explosive way.

So cast Mistress Molly’s vote for the merits of switching.

And the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. And we made some nice pudding here in the Collins household SUnday morning. Which I expect is what many of you want to hear about in any event, rather than my semi-self-revelatory musings…..

I planted some seeds of doubt Saturday evening, as we cuddled in bed, Mistress still in a bit of a daze from her afternoon orgasm-fest with M, then with me.

“Maybe tomorrow’s switch day will be orgasm free for you, Mistress.”

“Huh? That’s not the way it works, Slave.”

“Oh really? …..you make me have abstinence days from time to time …. And M embargoed you a week or so ago. Why couldn’t I do that on my switch day….make you please me while you fast?”

“You wouldn’t …..”

But that look in her eye showed a little uncertainty.

Sunday morning, Mistress slept in a bit as I wrote the blog, caught up with the sub-sisters, and wallowed in world news. (When do you think Reverend Jones will get his own show on FOX?)

But around 8:30 I decided it was time to get Mistress moving.

She was still snoozing when I barged back into our bedroom, newspapers and laptop in hand. She seem a bit peeved to be woken, but time was wasting. We spent some time reading the paper before I began locking the red leather cuffs on Mistress’s wrists. And then it was time for her to read the blog as I used my tongue to moisten up those wanton, well groomed folds.

When she set the laptop aside, after suggesting I had been a little too hard on our Western Correspondent, I went to work.

By the time I was done, Mistress was nicely spread eagled out on her tummy, legs and arms spread wide and tightly secured. And her bottom was already wriggling in frustration.

She seemed surprised when I slid on top of her, my firm and hungry “every day cock” pressing into her. Not that she wasn’t already amply wet and receptive.

“What are you doing, Slave?”

“It seems I’m fucking you Mistress. From behind. Remember, we talked about you not being allowed to come today.”

She shook her head. And her ass. My sense was that she would have liked to dislodge my impertinent cock. But it was firmly planted.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“We’ll see, Mistress.”

I took her that way for a while. And she seemed rather close to the edge as my hips moved in and out, side to side, frictioning her tender and wanton parts against the bed.

“Remember, Mistress, no coming…..”

I liked her little mew of frustration. She was coming around to the realization that I just might be serious.

But I did not press my luck much longer. Instead I rose up, and fed her my cock, letting her taste her delicious condiments smeared on my fleshy shish-ka-bob.

“Aren’t your juices tasty, Mistress?”

But her mouth seemed a little too full to give me a review.

Her next course came from the tip of our riding crop. I flexed it with my finger, letting it snap down on her bottom with a nice crisp slap.

“Ouch….. that hurts, Slave.”

She squirmed, but of course her bindings gave her little range of movement to avoid the caress of the crop, or the slaps of my open palm, that turned her bottom a nice cherry red after about 10 minutes or so.

That’s when I pulled out the Hitachi.

I slid it between her legs, just under her hips, and turned it on low.

It was amusing to watch her gyrations, striving to pull the throbbing bulb closer to the place where she wanted it, as I continued with my intermittent spanking and cropping.

But even a cruel Slave exercising his switch privileges has to feel a little mercy when he sees how desperate his Mistress is becoming.

I settled down next to her, took the Hitachi in hand, and guided it more firmly between those lovely thighs.

And her hips rose, writhed and tried to suck the churning device in and under to get maximum effect.

Soon I had Mistress begging….

“Please, can’t I come Slave? Please?”

I was moved.

“Yes, Mistress… if you can, go for it….”

But saying it doesn’t necessarily make it happen.

Bound spread eagled as she was, it was an impressive feat of dexterity for Mistress’s thighs and arms and hips to strain, flex and contort as she sought just the right angle where power tool and clit could converge in catalytic harmony.

“You’re driving me crazy, Slave.. You keep moving it. “

By now, Mistress’s body was covered with a sheen of perspiration that mingled with the sweetly pungent aroma of her lubricants. MMMMM.

“Just tell me where to put it Mistress….”

By now I was actually trying to help, her plight was …. almost …..heart rending.

But she was increasingly frantic, and frustrated. Pulling at her bonds, twisting her hips, but unable to close her thighs in the ultimate orgasmic hug of the diabolical Hitachi.

“Why don’t you just untie me and turn me over, Slave.”

I laughed.

“Well, you know that’s not going to happen…..I can always just turn it off and let you rest a while.”

“Oh, God, No…..”

Declining my offer of a little rest period, Mistress was back on task with renewed determination…. I could hear the wooden bed frame creaking from her exertions. She is a mighty one.

But finally, after more of that lovely and inspiring twisting and turning, Mistress found her promised land, moaning and locking her thighs as tightly as possible, then shuddering as wave after wave shook her.

I kept the Hitachi pressed against her, forcing another strong quake from her, until she was begging for me to stop.

“Turn it off Slave, please. I’m too sensitive now.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

By now Mistress was shaking with sobs, letting the aftershocks subside.



I cozied her, then slid on top, letting my cock gently ride into her from behind, moving slowly and steadily, as I licked the tears from her cheeks.

Yeah, I think Mistress would cast a vote for the occasional switch.

And either way, this Slave is happy to play along.

Home Cooking

Sin’s recent post referred to our little cross-polinating blog-o-sphere as “Mick and the Sub-Sisters”, which seemed like a slightly kinky version of an early 70’s lounge lizard band. Hopefully a little edgier than Tony Orlando and Dawn.

But since we all seem to be in this cyber-space together, girls, I have to share a recipe, improvised last night for an intimate little dinner for two that Mistress and I shared.

I took my incredibly cute grandson to River City’s 19^th Century street market Saturday morning, and bought some freshly fallen from the vine tomatoes. I picked up a few oddly shaped eggplants too. My daughter, a bit of a gardening fanatic, gave me a bag full of fresh basil. And we had some very thick Salmon filets thawing on the kitchen counter.

What I like to do is create something from whatever fresh ingredients are at hand. So three tomatoes, a hefty bunch of basil leaves and some olive oil went into the food processor. I cut ½ of an eggplant into little cubes. I browned the filets and eggplant chunks in some olive oil in a deep skillet for about 4 minutes. Then poured the tomato / basil concoction over the top. Turned the gas flame to low and let it simmer for about 10 minutes with the lid on.

The salmon and sauce were dished into pasta bowls. Some fresh baguette chunks were great for mopping up the sauce as we gobbled the moist and flavorful fish.

Yum. 

Healthy. Light. Delicious.

And it was a suitable tribute to Mistress who had been most wanton earlier in the day….. and isn’t that why most of you checked the page here…. Not for my goofy recipes?

(Of course, I know that some of you may have multi-faceted interests. Our Western Correspondent has a clever enchilada recipe he may want to share some day, if he gets off his bike, turns off the porn, or puts down the golf clubs long enough to do a little corresponding for you).

But then M was busy yesterday too.

Molly and Mick had some boisterous wake-up sex, after Mistress read the blog, with my tongue burrowing between her warm and muscular legs.  She even called from the car on her way to a hair care appointment, noting that – once again – she had failed to wipe the now drying come from her leg.  Hopefully the blue haired matrons at her Salon did not go into catatonia over that little shimmering smear.

After my trip to the market, the grandson and I had a play date. Mistress lolled on the couch, napping a bit, working a bit as I played with him and some   Legos. But I got him safely home just in time for me to watch my alma mater take on a bitter rival to the north. Game time was 3:30.

Mistress is very indulgent about my college football obsession. But, of course, she has no obligation to suffer through these contests with me.  No, she had other plans.

“M and I talked a bit, Slave. He’s going to have a date with me sometime during the game.”

She settled in next to me with her laptop, as the kick-off approached.

“But I have a homework assignment first. He wants me to go on this website and watch some “MILF” sex videos. I have to report back to him on what I saw.”

Clever, M. Very clever.  Mistress would get her pump primed, and be particularly desperate for his voice and the unsubtle touch of the Hitachi by the time he made that call.  I added a little fuel by referring Mistress to yesterday’s particularly hot post by the Discerning Dom on the subject of “Punishment”.

As I followed to ups and down of my team, Mistress was sitting on our old leather couch (the one in the photo) next to me, watching her smutty videos, commenting on the sometimes alarming and / or humorous content.

“These seem like home videos, Slave….then they post them for the world to see themselves fucking.  Crazy.”

I could hear both shock and awe in Mistress's voice. But she diligently kept on task, for far of punishment from M.  What an obedient little slut she can be for him!

As Mistress worked on her homework assignment, it was hard to keep my hands from sliding up the inside of her thigh, and rest against her black undies. I suspect my fingers were working her there a bit too. Not enough to make her come, just to put her on simmer, like those filets. Soon, I could not miss the sweet, musky aroma of Mistress’s arousal  filling  the room. It’s not an aroma you get at the Stadium, where we were last Saturday.

But soon a squirmy Mistress was kissing me goodbye, heading upstairs for her appointment with our Western Correspondent.

“Are the phone and Hitachi readily at hand, Slave?”

“Of course, Mistress, just where you like them.”

I made sure to finish that assignment during a commercial break.

“OK, Slave,,,,enjoy the game.” She quickly pecked me good bye and climbed the stairs, the greedy little Sub wannabe, at least to her Master, M.

About an hour later, as half time was ending, a seemingly content and smiling Mistress came down stairs and settled back on the couch next to me.

“How was M, Mistress?”

“Mmmmm…. Good, Slave.” She had a little dreamy far away look in her eyes.

Obviously, Mistress got  much better entertainment than she did with me at the game last weekend.

Later, after I suffered through a last minute loss by my team, Mistress consoled me in our bed.

The chat with her Dom, and the extra couple of Hitachi induced orgasms did not prevent her from riding my cock like a woman possessed. As we fucked, and between her orgasms, I debriefed her a bit on her “date”.

“Did you pass that quiz on the sex videos, Mistress?”

“I guess so Slave….he had me describe what I saw, what turned me on.”

“And did he describe a particular scenario as he let you play with the Hitachi, Mistress.”

“It’s sort of a blurr, Slave.  But I know it involved me on the kitchen counter, him lifting me up, then taking me from behind….”

“Hmmm….wonder if that would work on our counter?”

“Guess there’s only one way to find out, Slave.”

Slave's Rude Interruption

“I have some dried come on my thigh, Slave.”

We were riding past verdant vineyards and cornfields, heading for a rendezvous with the type of high cholesterol breakfast only justified by a brisk early morning bike ride.

“I’m not surprised, Mistress.”

I remembered seeing that glistening smear there, midway down her right thigh,  after our equally brisk wake-up sex.

I guess a good slave would have cleaned up the mess he’d left behind.

AS we pumped through the humid morning air, a nice breeze from the lake at our backs, we had time to review the amusing events of the night before.

“It was a little embarrassing, Slave.”

“Well, I am sorry that I …interrupted.  But it’s not like I didn’t know what was likely going on inside….”

“It’s just a little strange to be , you know….”

“Caught in the act, Mistress?”

“I suppose…..”

I reviewed for her what led me to open the door of our little rustic apartment before being called to her side.

After our afternoon at the beach, we had a nice little picnic dinner outside on the lawn of this old Victorian guest house where we were spending the football weekend.

Mistress had her “date” with M arranged for around 7 pm. She had generously offered to fuck me first, but I demurred.”

“First, Mistress, you always seem to want my cock after one of those phone sessions with your Dom. Second, maybe it’s a little false bravado, but I don’t care to be the opening act….I like being the headliner….the Closer….”

Mistress laughed, and we riffed off this concept a bit as we finished our smoked salmon, cheese, salami, fresh tomatoes, etc.   And some French rose too. Yum.

By the time we finished we were both full, but also a little feisty. And Mistress was watching the clock. The time for her “date’ was approaching and her slutty anticipation was building…

I decided to take advantage, and stretch our legs a bit too.

“How about a short walk on the beach, Mistress?”

“Hmmm….good idea, but do we have time?”

I told you she was anxious. But there was time, and to be safe, she texted M to make sure 7:15 would work.

Down on the beach, the sun was low, casting magnificent, golden light onto the dunes and the last stragglers enjoying the cool water with the summer’s last hurrah.

But I found a short deserted length of the strand to hold Mistress tight, attack her mouth with mine, and slide my fingers up and under her tie-dye dress.

“MMMMm….”

I would brook no protest, and as my tongue gagged her, my fingers did their dirty work, until Mistress was shuddering in my arms with those needy little gasps of pleasure. I wanted to leave her all wet and sticky before her encounter with M and the Hitachi.

As she settled down into my arms, I could tell Mistress’s mind was already focused on getting back….not being late for him. So we turned around and walked back through a tree lined break in the bluffs to our little apartment.

“Make sure the Hitachi is out, Slave….”

Check.

“Can I use your phone….my charge is too low.”

“No problem, Mistress.”

I handed it to her, with one  more embrace.

“Where will you be?”

I may have a drink with those folks outside on the lawn. Or out here on the deck with my lap-top.”

“Ok…”

Distractedly, she kissed me adieu. She was well primed for him, and I was gratified that I had helped with the priming.

Our “neighbors” were more than entertaining. Three African American couples from the Windy City, an hour drive across the lake. They come here every Labor Day weekend. Among them, two women still serving as Chicago cops. A guy who is a retired Cop. A registered nurse. We talked gangs, pensions, hard times,  the Mayors Daley. And we sipped some fine single malt scotch. They took me in, offered to share their  BBQ, and didn’t even ask where my fetching bride might ever be.

Time flew, and as they began packing away their things, I realized I had not heard from Mistress in about 70 minutes or so.

I said good night, they told me to look them up the next time I was in their town, and I went back to our little deck, where I had left my laptop to begin the next morning’s blog as Mistress finished off her little smutty chat with M.

And I would have been more than content to stay out there, enjoying the warm late summer evening but for two things:

First, it began to sprinkle. Little dots of water began popping up on my screen. Oops. I tried to wiggle under to eaves to keep the laptop dry as I let my consciousness stream across the page. (I found that my scotch induced prose needed some serious editing in the am. I guess I’m no Scott Fitzgerald.)  But that was a losing battle as the rain began to intensify.

Then some other neighbors – more Chicagoans, but of the white redneck category – began getting under my skin. I hate to hear a grown man curse and threaten a 10 year old. And after a few abusive snarls, and what sounded like some gratuitous spanks that had the poor boy wailing, I knew I was either going to give this “dad” an unsolicited lesson in parenting I would probably regret, or I would have to risk interrupting Mistress.

I opted for the latter.

Our “suite” had two small rooms and a bath. No door to close between them. So as I gently turned the key,  and tried to discretely slide inside the door to cower in the “living room” until Mistress was done, I could not help but get a glimpse of Mistress splayed across our bed.

Her lovely tie-dye dress was hiked up around her hips, her legs were scissoring langorously, her head was thrown back, and both hands were gripping the Hitachi pressing it hard against that needy little clit.

Oops. Very bad timing.

I had hoped I would only be barging in on one of their interludes.

Not surprisingly, the commotion at the door caught Mistress’s eye.

“Oh dear, M…we have a problem here….Slave is back…”

I fled to the couch in the other room.

“Don’t mind me Mistress….it’s raining out….just go on”.

The phone was still in her hand.

Mistress was trying to appease us both.

“Are you Ok, Slave… sorry you had to see that…”

“No problem, Mistress…you should feel free to contnue.”

And then to M:

“”I’m sorry M….it was raining out. He’s OK….no problems here.”

Of course, M is wired differently than this Slave. He was thinking how he might react to discovering B under similar compromising circumstances.

“Let’s just go back to where we were….”

Mistress waved to me, went back in the bedroom.

I could hear the Hitachi switch back on. Mistress’s sexy cooing to M…”

“Go on  …. Yes….Yes….. What are you doing…..”

And I could sense her tempo increasing, until there was that tempered moan of pleasure from her, the sounds of her legs thrashing about on the bed….she was coming again for him.

SO while I had disrupted things, at least she had been able to finish the job.

And afterwards, Mistress was still crazy for her “work-a-day” cock, riding it with abandon, forcing even more orgasms from her self.

We both slept hard and long.

Now, on our bike ride, Mistress shared a little more of their evening before I so rudel interrupted.”

“Sorry I took so long, Slave.”

“It wasn’t a problem for me….I just felt bad coming in before you were completely satisfied.”

“Well he was teasing me…..it took forever for him to let me use the Hitachi….he was terrible. Beastly.”

“But you loved it….”

“I suppose I did.”

“And did he finally let you use it, after lots of begging and groveling for him?”

“Finally….”

“And I bet I could have heard you outside the door, when you finally had that first orgasm with him?”

“I suspect you could have Slave.”

And speaking of uncomfortable: a hard cock when you are in the 10^th mile of a bike ride.

Argh.