Ask Mick: What's the Policy on "Self-Abuse" at UCTMW World HQ.?

Earlier this week, one of our legions (actually dozens) of current readers asked an important and timely question about  corporate policy at the UCTMW World HQ: Does Mistress allow her devoted and pampered house slave to masturbate?  

Please keep in mind that for the most part this is a hypothetical question. We are rarely apart and have sex almost every day, typically in the morning. What's better than wake-up sex? The exception might be a morning when we are getting up and out extra early to go on a long hike, or a drive to the airport. At my age, one cum a day is more than my reproductive system demands or needs. With that level of frequency, who needs to masturbate? (Other than our long since retired Western Correspondent, who used to buy lubricant in 20 gallon vats). 

But the question comes at an atypical time.  Mistress is off with an old friend for two nights at a nearby hot springs spa. Slave is home alone,  tending to the cat. It's now been nearly 48 hours since we last had our normal wake up sex! That' my longest dry spell in years! 

In the past, Mistress might have ordered me to wear a cock cage during any period when we are apart, particularly if I was going out, as I did last night, attending a local concert. At the very least, she would have reminded me that her policy was "no touching. Slave". So, cage-less and unrestrained,  feeling unusually liberated this week. In theory, I have license!

And yet..... maybe it's my age,  or a sense that a little frustration might make our reunion sex this evening  all the more thrilling, but so far I have exercised a little self discipline. 

Who da thunk! 

 

Happy Valentine's Day from Molly and mick

Here in River City we are hunkered down in the typical cold, damp and dreary weather typical of a midwestern winter in the global warming era.  Still no meaningful snow here.  And to make it worse they've already had about 3 feet of snow in February at our favorite SW hideaway ski valley.  Ouch!
We are missing some nice powder.

The good news is that Mistress is slowly recovering from her surgery, walking each day to build her strength.  The full blown sex embargo remains in effect for another 3 weeks or so, but we have continued with some hot and fantasy inducing morning "activities".  First, a little cum inducing oral worship. Then some oral attention to slave's work-a-day cock. At that point, Mistress encourages her slave to bring himself off as she watches, fondling a bit, grinding against me a bit.

"But remember to ask for permission, slave....."

"Of course, Mistress...."

This morning the routine was enhanced by a new nightie Mistress was gifted for V-Day.  Smooth, sexy and very feminine.

And a little smutty talk too.

"What if one of your lovers, and not your MD imposed this embargo, Mistress?"

"That would be hot, slave...."

"What if he demanded that only his cock had the privilege to  fuck you?"

"Mmmmm..... that would be pretty demanding; slave?"

"Would you follow his orders, Mistress.  Would you limit me to this sort of release?"

"I might, slave.  It would depend on how good he was, wouldn't it?"

"But at least I would still get to come, Mistress."

"Yes, consider yourself lucky.  What if he had you caged and made me give him the key?  That might get your attention....."

It was about then that I asked for permission.

Fortunately, Mistress was in an indulgent mood.

The Doctor Is In

Slave's sad 3 days of solitude are almost over. Mistress and our daughter are already in the car, headed back from the River City.  And you will be surprised to hear that slave was a slacker when it came to exploiting Mistress's "permission" to self-abuse daily while she was away.  I did it Sunday evening, and again on Monday night.  But by yesterday I couldn't muster the energy or interest in taking matters into my own hands.

I guess I am spoiled. I read over at A Married Sissy this morning that Terri has had only 11 orgasms in 2016. That's a little less than my average over two weeks. I may typically miss one day each week. But that's about it. And every now and then there might be a two-a-day!  Talk about your pampered house slave!  So I guess it makes sense that permissive pocket pool would seem like a yawn to me.  It's so much better to have Mistress's assistance!

I also dodged any cage time on this brief hiatus from daily supervision.  Following Mistress's edict, I was able to go to work cageless on Monday and will today because I rode my bike to work.  And yesterday - well there was an MD appointment at the dermatologist. It was time for my annual check-up for this fair skinned Irish lad. Since my MD - a sultry Iranian lady with a kinky wardrobe - is very thorough, well you would not want slave to be embarrassed!

Sure enough my MD appeared in her traditional black leather pants. But since it's still August, she was not in the knee high black boots she sported last November when we met for the first time.  Instead, she had on some strappy black sandals, showing off some well groomed toes in some sort of dark, purplish toe polish.  Impressive. Though not quite as kinky as some fantasy Domme MDs might be.

It turns out I was prudent not to wear the cage. On arrival the perky assistant proposed that I disrobe and put on one of those flimsy surgical gowns. (In green, not pink, Terri!)

"Opening in the back", she helpfully reminded. As if I would think to put the damn thing on with my front wide open, connected only by a couple of flimsy laces.

Soon my Doctor Domme swept into the room, dark hair and smoldering  eyes quickly sizing up my mottled, aging skin with a wisdom beyond her ears.  She quickly ordered me to shed the thin garment to allow for a less obscured inspection.

I had on some madonna blue underpants Mistress had selected for me -  a bit long in the leg, and very soft fabric. Not quite "panties" but the texture comes close.  If Doctor Domme reacted to them, I couldn't tell.  She had me turn around, and had one more direction.

"Would you mind dropping your shorts so I can take a better look down there?"

"Of course not.....( oops....I had to stifle the impulse to conclude with a "mistress"..... I guess that's what happens when I'm left unmoored for three whole days.)

In any event, hopefully Mistress will now understand why I didn't wear the cage yesterday.

Soon my inspection was over. But before I left there was some "discipline" in the form of her torturing my face and head with some of that ultra cold gas she sprayed from a little tank to freeze off some "pre-cancerous" spots here and there.

"Maybe I should just stick my head in a bucket of that stuff" I snarked.  She was not amused.

Sadly, she then left me to my own devices, with a nod and hand shake and instructions to come back in two months. I quickly climbed back into my street clothes, and caught one more glimpse of her at her desk computer, no doubt recording the results of my exam.  Or maybe she was just checking her "Fetlife" or "collarspace" in box?

Paint It Black

Slave has been left to his own devices here in the heartland, as Mistress and our youngest "Domme in training" graze their way through one of Europe's capitols this weekend.

You will  be relieved to know I followed Mistress's instructions to the T (or would that be "O") twice: once Friday evening and again on Saturday morning, not wanting to get punished for failing to discharge those dangerous natural juices.

As Mistress warned: "I don't want you running around all horny on your own this weekend, Slave...."

What a wise and benign Mistress. So many others would have simply locked me up and given some trusted neighbor the key in case of an emergency. Or had me use one of those numbered locks that Diane is partial to.  But if I had been locked up I would not have been able to ride my bike, as I did to work on Friday, and then again on Saturday.  What good is a slave who does not remain cardiac hearty to best serve his Mistress?

And I realized that despite her sight seeing with our daughter, Mistress still had me in the back of ehr mind when she texted me this photo apparently taken in a shop window this morning:


Last night I did go out to listen to some music at a local watering hole.  Mistress made clear that I should be caged for the occasion, and I even sent her a "snap chat" to demonstrate my compliance with her wishes.

But let's get to the subject of today's illustrations.  On Friday I posted a photo of Mistress in a fetching white get up.  But all of you know that Mistress usually sticks to basic black.  She even left one of her lacy black nighties, resonant with her perfume, natural and otherwise, to fuel my sanctioned "touching" this weekend. I went back through the moldy photo archives here at the UCTMW World HQ and found some choice examples or her preference for black.


Enjoy!  I know I enjoyed thumbing through this collection!

Bizarro World Femdom?

Yesterday Terri, over at The Married Sissy blog expressed some confusion in a comment:

"What's wrong with this picture. Mistress on Abstinence for 11 days. while Slave gets his daily milkings?  I must be on the wrong FemDom planet!"

I suppose you are right, Terri. (And its really 17 days when you add it up).Not only do we have a weekly switch day option here at UCTMW (as illustrated by this photo from our vault showing Mistress ready for a good cropping), but Mistress has been particularly indulgent while she is a way. She has not only allowed slave to "self abuse" at will, but has actually required it, along with a photo via snap chat to show the "proof" that slave is following orders.

On the other hand, while poor mistress has several targets of opportunity for a little sexual adventure during her voyage, she is under the watchful eye of the Dowager Domme, her loud, whiny and indiscrete sister and our cute daughter. AS a result she's been unable to taste all that tempting and delicious fruit available to her. That sort of dietary restriction must be very frustrating for the poor dear. And what the hell is in poy, anyway?

Mistress's theory on her indulgence of me while she is away is that if I drain all of my "precious
fluids" (remember that euphemism from Dr. Strangelove, all you old folks?) on a daily basis, I won't get too horny and be tempted to misbehave while she is on her 17 day sabbatical from Mistressing. (Has that worked for you WC?)

I also am required to wear my cage when I go out at night as a reminder of who is in charge.

And while those daily "milkings" certainly keep a randy slave's libido in check, they also have had another unanticipated result: I realize that that form of discharge can become more of a chore than fun. Everyday gets a little harder to look forward to my "alone time", if you know what I mean.  It's a whole lot more fun getting to do it with Mistress, and asking her permission to cum.

As Terri notes, we may be on a different FemDom Planet?  Terri is locked up in chastity for 89% of his time, and under s very limited cum regime. He even does a daily chastity report that he shares with his wife Diane and her lover Paul.

Meanwhile, her at UCTMW, slave  is whining about how all those self administered cums are getting boring, while poor Mistress is enduring a 17 day draught, all the while being tempted by hot, available guys longing to take them off to their cabin for a good hard fucking.

It's sort of like the Bizarro World in those old Superman comics, where everything is in reverse, particularly the super heros, like Bizarro Superman and Supergirl, who are always screwing things up, rather than saving the day. And now, apparently, there is a Bizarro Wonder Woman, who uses that magic lasso to get people to lie, rather than tell the truth.

Maybe I really am in the Bizarro world. I could swear I woke up to a story on NPR about Donald Trump running for President!

Putting the WC on the Clock

This morning we have some advice via our Senior Correspondent to share with our Western Correspondent. But first a follow up on yesterday’s post about the “shock collar”. I must say I was assuming that the collar was really for pets, or maybe necks, but “anonymous” did pass on this post from “Male Chastity Journal” that demonstrates the ability of a Mistress to strap one of those little suckers around the base of a submissive male’s cock and balls already equipped with a cock cage.

Ouch!

Fortunately, Mistress has not placed this item on her Amazon “wish” list just yet, though she might have wished for one last night, when we attended a political fundraiser in town. It certainly would have curbed any thought I might have had to stray from her side for even a moment. (Not that I did, I might add…. But what can a little extra deterrence hurt?)

Now, back to the WC. 

As our loyal readers know, he has a knack for exercising his special occasion cock throughout the work day and beyond. His penchant to burn through  large drums of high end lubricant almost broke the bank here at UCTMW, and caused several rounds of budgetary retrenchment.

But one thing we have never documented (for science of course) is how long the WC typically takes from unzipping to rezipping. Does he go for multiple quickies, or does he enjoy dragging out each self- encounter with his impressive specimen of manhood? 

Over the weekend, Donna passed along a post from a blog called “The People Your Mother Warned You About” suggesting that guys not subject to a “not touch” rule (like yours truly) should extend their moments of “self-abuse” as long as possible to train themselves to better please their “better halves” in the sack. Here is an excerpt:

The most important part first: Don’t rush through your petting session with the one-eyed monster. A weightlifter lifts as much weight as they can and a marathon runner runs as far as they can. Do the same with your stamina for the bedroom. Make it last as long as you can as often as you have the time to. When you rush through three minute fap sessions, you are training your brain to rush toward busting that nut. That leave seventeen minutes of recalling baseball stats or picturing your grandmother in the shower (which, by the way, who the fuck suggests this? That’d make me get dressed and go home to drink myself to a black out and leave my partner really confused). In the Navy we said “train like you fight”…well, train like you fuck. Sex is an important part of a healthy life so you really ought to train for it anyway, just as you train to stay fit or stay sharp at your job.

Secondly, use lubrication when you choke the dolphin. The brand doesn’t matter at all. You can even use some Oil of Olay rejuvenating whats-its to keep you dick looking young and wrinkle free. Just use it. Tune your nerves to deal with as close of an approximation of a pussy as you can. Pussies are wet, warm and fucking magical! You need to tune your nerves.

Well we know the WC uses plenty of high priced lube. But what about the other advice provided here, Miguel: Do you go for a quick burst of fun, or do you take the opportunity to train the SOC for those moments when the lovely B wants your complete attention.

Maybe we can put your cock  on the clock for a few weeks and publish the results in some upscale medical journal.

It’s all for science.

Torn From the Fertile (and sticky) Imagination of our Western Correspondent

Mistress has flown the UCTMW coop for a few days.... visiting an old friend in the Northwest.  (She reports she had a stirring view of Mt. Hood at the end of her flight).

Slave got to take her to the airport early yesterday morning, and then drive back there again at the end of the work day to dispatch our daughter back to her east coast campus.

That was a little too much driving for a guy stuck in a hard steel cage all day ... that sucker sure can make one squirm when you have to sit for a while (WC add "not while driving" and "not while sitting too long" to that litany of cage avoidance rationales).

Fortunately, when I got home, Mistress mercifully told me where I could find the key, and I was given a temporary parole to allow a bike ride. She even directed me to "take care of business" once, but only once, per day while she was gone.

"That will make sure you don't get too horny.... we know where that can lead, Slave...."

She surely is a  wise and merciful Mistress! And to help matters along, she even left a very fragrant set of sexy nighties under my pillow, to help stimulate my senses, which were put to good use last night when I was having a little trouble going to sleep in this lonely bed of ours.

Yeah, I know, this isn't all that sexy, so as a bonus, I'm sharing a little smutty email that our WC sent to Mistress this past Sunday (with their permission of course)

:

Had a fantasy/dream about my sexy little friend

Dreamed I came down to Your hideaway and you and Mick were sitting in your main room 

I came in and ordered you to strip bare naked

Your eyes kind of glazed over as you stripped

I ordered you to put your hands behind your neck for inspection

That’s when I kind of woke up with my hand around an enormous erection

I imagined bending you over and making you pull you bottom wide open for me to inspect

Fucking hot!!!!!!!! 

You little stud

I pushed a finger deep up your cunt

You were soaking wet!

I then pushed that finger deep up your ass

And twisted it lifting you up on your tip toes

I then pulled you over my knee and gave you a long hard bare bottom spanking as Mick watched

Stopping now and then to rub your clit hard

You were soaking wet and I teased you about it

I spanked you again, questioning  you

Do you think I will let you cum tonight?

I hope so you said

NO I said

I pushed you down between my legs and told you to free my cock and suck it

I made you smell it and lick my balls

 Then I told you to suck every drop down........

OMG I came so hard

Then I slept with you spooning and teasing your wet cunt all night not letting you cum but making you jack me off and suck me of all night

You woke up in a puddle and I was thinking about how to keep you so fucking horny all the next day not letting you cum again

I had a great orgasm this morning my little friend......

Sounds like we are both stuck with our fantasies and right hands this week , Miguel.

Mistress Calls Her Slave to Account

Poor Mistress... she was rousted at 4 am out of some romantic (if you can call sharing quarters with your mother romantic) high altitude
lux-o-rustic tent somewhere too close to Pakistan for my taste last night. Her guide reported that because of a likely shut-down of highways after a terrorist bombing of a sacred Buddhist site, they should bust ass back to the hotel they had been staying had and sequester themselves until a day of angry monk protests had subsided.

That explains why she surprised me with a call last evening, when I thought she was "off the grid". After she filled me in on the latest developments in this 21st Century  odyssey of the white chicks through the near east, she came to the subject of most concern to her:

"Well Slave.... thanks for that cockshot"?

(Did I mention that she had required me to send a cock shot before I "took matters into my own hands" on Sunday.)

"You're welcome, Mistress.... though I felt a little weird about it... you know how hard its been for you to erase all those cock shots you got from the WC ... with photo stream they just keep reproducing themselves.... and what if the kids get a glimpse on your i-phone...."

Sounds like I'm whining right? But I am a little bit of a worry wart on the display of her work-a-day cock.

"Oh Slave... it was nice to see what I'm missing.... and it kind of got me hot."

Well that's a plus.

Then she started asking more questions:

"So what were you thinking about when you did it, Slave...."

Now that's an even more put your dude on the spot question than that tried and true standard:

"Tell me what you're thinking about..."

The one that makes most guys cringe. But  when it's that general, its usually easy to come up with something. Say you were thinking about why your favorite sports team fucked up last night... or maybe the lyrics to a Bruce Sprinsteen song.  But you can always ad lib with something like "how hot you look today, babe."

Am I right?

But when your Mistress / wife asks you: "what were you thinking about when you jerked off on my orders yesterday after emailing me a photo of your engorged cock with a mountain vista in the background".

Well that requires a little more .... dexterity. Truth be told I really couldn't remember....but I tired my best:

"I was thinking of some buff young Buddhist Monk.... saffron robes, bare feet, powerful thighs ... cornering you in a secluded chamber at one of those Temples you've been visiting and tossing aside his decades long vow of chastity just for a moment with you, Mistress. You were on your knees, unwarapping his loin cloth to see if he was "cut" or not when I reached the point of no return."

So, how did I do?

Mistress Checks In ... and Up On her Slave

Mistress has figured out how to get a wifi connection at their exotic location, and we've talked a bit over the last day. She's 11.5 hours ahead of me, and spent the day celebrating the Dali Lama's birthday. (No doubt our cute Co-Eds were rolling  their eyes, and longing for some trashy "Housewives of Las Vegas"  time).

She did check to make sure I was performing my daily task, and wanted to verify that my attention was focused on her when I "did the deed".  Of course, I reassured her that she was at the center of my thoughts.

As for Mistress, well it sounds like the opportunities have been thin.

"Have you been able to take personal liberties, Mistress...."

"Ha... not with [her mother], rolling around in the bed next to mine...I'm like those Tibetan monks.... I've taken a forced vow of chastity for the duration...."

No I guess its unlikely that I will be cuckolded by a Buddhist monk. I suppose there is a chance she will run into some Indiana Jones type character who will take care of her needs on expedition. But I doubt her Mother would let her slip out of her eye-shot for very long.

She did send me some photos via Viber (a miracle App as far as I am concerned) which confirms how exotic the locale is.... looks like those roads are scary. ANd she describes sometimes unnerving military checkpoints along the way.... though everyone so far has been polite.  Nevertheless, I will be glad when they are home safely.

And I suspect I will have one horny Mistress to take care of when I pick her up at the airport a week from Monday.

Be Prepared

I am up a little early here in the Mountains. It's always hard to adjust to the time change, and it's even harder to sleep soundly without Mistress sleeping beside me.  So when I woke I began to peruse the papers on line.  I ran across this headline on Maureen Dowd's column entitled "She's fit to be tied" and was surprised to see it was actually about kinky stuff.  Who would think that MoDo had a friend who is an online dominatrix. Do you think it's Gail Collins?  More evidence that the whole BDSM scene is more mainstream than some of us tend to think.

By the time I post this blog, Mistress should be jetting her way to join me here.  I know she was not pleased that her work required her to stay behind and miss a perfect, warm sunny day here at our Mountain hideaway.  But hopefully we can catch up for lost time.  I can't wait until I pick her up this afternoon.

As a good Mistress should, she stayed in touch and managed her Slave properly from afar. Before I left on Friday afternoon, she let me know that I would be allowed to "touch" on Saturday morning. She called me at about 6:30 am Mountain time, having just left J's "love shack", and driving to that desultory office retreat that had kept her home when I headed West.

She filled me in on a few smutty details of her evening with J. There was the  usual pre-bedtime worship as he applied his oral skills.

"I think he likes that as much as you do, Slave...."

Now that would be hard.

"Did he give you a nice assortment of cums, Mistress. "

"Yes, Slave,,,, he's very dedicated to his task."

"Then there was the 4 am "booty call". "

It was hard not to let the mind wander, the two of them waking early in his bed. Maybe him already a little hard, and Mistress's hand wandering to and fro, making him all the harder....the thought was having the effect she no doubt relished.

"Have you exercised your privileges yet, Slave?"

"Not yet Mistress...."

"Well, I think you should....in fact I'm requiring it of you.... but remember to send me a text message saying 'mission accomplished'. That will at least brighten my morning a bit."


"Yes, Mistress...."

It was not a directive that was hard to follow.

Since I was up early, I finished my "business",  then pulled together my skiing equipment and headed up the mountain. Though I should have applied more sunscreen, I had a great day on the mountain, though it surely was odd not to have my Mistress there on the chair lift beside me. By around 2:30 pm my legs were shot from pushing around the slushy spring snow, and I headed back to the cabin, thinking of a nap, some NCAA basketball and a trip into town for some provisions.

Of course, I checked in with Mistress, who by now was done with her meeting, and heading home for a bike ride.

"I'm having dinner with J this evening, Slave...."

"Good, I was hoping he'd take care of you while we were a part...."

"But I'm not spending the night.....need to get out early to the airport."

I told Mistress my dinner plans... stopping by a charming old  local Bar / restaurant / music venue to enjoy the scene, and maybe watch some of the OSU / KSU basketball game.

So there I was sitting about 9 pm or so East Coast time, watching basketball, eating a chicken enchilada, and listening to a group of aging lesbians play middle eastern music with drums and fiddles, and texting with Mistress.

"We're  back to our house now, Slave.... J's spending the night here. He'll leave after my mother picks me up to take me to the airport.  "

The logistics of that were a little confusing, but I am not one to quibble. It was just good to know that Mistress would not be driving late at night, and was in good hands.

"Now he's watching the basketball game. And I'm just relaxing"

And of course I was watching that game too, about 1500 miles away. So that was another aspect of our "shared experience."

"I hope he's at least rubbing your feet."

That's one of our little TV watching rituals.

"He's rubbing my feet and my thigh, Slave."

Hmmm.... J is getting into the groove.

By now half-time was over. I'd had a couple of beers and a chicken enchilada. I had chatted up a couple from Minnesota about raising girls and the glories of our beautiful valley, and I was thinking about catching the ending of what had been up to then a boring game back at our cabin.

Then I got another text....

"We're getting into bed now, Slave....Mmmmm..... miss you."

I figured she would soon be "otherwise engaged" so I gave her a call to say good night.

She explained that  they were now in bed, with J watching the end of the game as she snuggled up next to him.  They had already showered. 

"One problem though Slave.... we hadn't really planned this, so J forgot condoms.... but I realized I had one in reserve...."

"Oh God.... the McCain condom...."

We had gone to the Democratic Convention in 2008.  They were passing these out at as little joke on Ol' Maverick and his positions on women's health issues.  Maybe it was these folks who gave this one the Molly, which she'd kept as a bit of a joke ever since.

"Hmmmm..... like McCain, that one could be a little past it's prime, Mistress, but I suppose you gotta do what you gotta do."

"J says he's going to close his eyes and pretend I'm Sarah Palin...."

"I'm not sure that would really work, Mistress..... but it might be an interesting experiment."

We said goodnight, but there was one final instruction.

"Slave.... no touching tonight.... I want you horny for me tomorrow..."

That will not be a problem.

Dispatch From Our Senior Correspondent: Controlled Burn

After we got home from the big city yesterday afternoon, I rested a bit and then began reading some short stories that had been sent to me for review. Wow! I really think these stories would fall into the porn genre rather than erotic. Being the dedicated reader I am, I didn't let that slow me down one little bit, and, in fact, they charged my batteries.

I finished a couple of stories with interesting names like Pound it Home and Gangbanged at the Office, and went searching for Bill. I asked quite seductively, I thought, if he might be interested in making love. He got quiet and stared at me, and I knew his answer would be no. I moved next to him on the couch, snuggled in so his arm was draped over my barely covered breasts, blew in his ear, rubbed his tenting shorts and was all ready to see him get his sexy grin going on. Instead, he gave me a non-sexy quick kiss and said I was already overtired.

Being rather determined, I begged and said I was really, really horny. That was about when he remarked that I was adding swats to the swat count by being obstinate. I asked if it would be acceptable for me to do some “one handed reading”, maybe with the Hitachi in the other hand.

He gave a deep sign and then a sideways kind of nod, and said that if I thought I could handle it, to go ahead.

I got everything ready, feeling quite the modern woman with a Kindle in one hand and Hitachi in the other. It didn’t go as quickly as I had hoped and I wasn’t making much progress toward an orgasm. Disappointed, I turned off the Hitachi, gave it a toss and just kept reading. In a few minutes, Bill opened the door and came in to stand beside the bed. He took a look at the tossed aside Hitachi, shook his head a bit, took his tee shirt off over his head (Have I mentioned that he has been working out?) and tossed it to the floor as he dropped his shorts. Then he leaned over and pinched my nipples, hard.

I tried to get him to come onto the bed with me, I offered my butt for spanking and my pussy or mouth for whatever might please him. He said the answer was still “no”. as far as a major energy expenditure was concerned, but one good cum might help me rest. I tried not to waggle my eyebrows.

He handed me a lubed up pocket rocket and motioned for me to take care of myself. As he stood beside the bed, he began to beat the breast and nipple closest to him with his hard penis. I tried to reposition so I could lick him, I tried to move my arm so I could massage his balls, but instead, he stopped everything! He even reached over to hold my hand controlling the pocket rocket still. Then he looked at me and said, “Do you want this, or not?” Oops.

Aggravating the Dom might not be in my own best interest. After my answer of, “Yes, Sir,” we both continued and within a short time we were both cumming beautifully. He shot all over my chest, shoulder, neck and a bit landed on my chin and lips. Yum!

He told me to stay put and returned in a couple of minutes with a soft, warm washcloth to clean me. I gave him a very sincere thank-you, and he quirked an eyebrow, handed me my Kindle and left the room. Just as he walked out the door he said, " Oh, that will be another five swats for trying to push me." Oh, good..er, bad!

Sometimes there is a difference in what we need and what is good for us. And sometimes we just have to do those things that remind us that we are passionately alive. I know I’ve said it before, but I am so lucky to have this guy in my life who understands that concept. And he says he is equally lucky with what I bring to the dance that is our life together. So it’s all cool.

Sated and smiling,

Donna

When Mick is Away....

Yesterday morning, after some wake-up sex in Mistress's executive suite, I took out my new Christmas camera and shot a few photos of Mistress in one of her gifts from her Slave: this little night time confection that channels her 70's era taste for tie-dye in a more delicately crafted way.

The back story is that I acquired this gift at a very tasteful lingerie store in River City, run by a woman who Slave was involved with in a prior life .... we'll call her my Mondale era companion. So when a box comes from there, Mistress always asks if she was involved in making the selection. In this case, she was. While much water has gone over that dam, and we remain friends, it is a little strange to have an old flame help select sexy intimates for my beloved.

So let us know if you like Mistress in her new costume.....

After our little photo shoot we took full advantage of our bonus day off. A nice bike ride in unusually mild weather. Then Mistress and our cute Co-ed went to lunch with the Mother Domme, while I hung out with my two older daughters and my grandson, who was displaying his skills as a master lego craftsman.

I got home at around 3 pm, planning a little quiet time with Mistress before we sucked it up and took my grumpy Mother to dinner. I must confess I was a little surprised that I did not get the "when will you be home?" call or text from Mistress, figuring maybe time with her Mom stretched out a bit.

But when I got home, Mistress's car was in the garage, the C0-Ed was in her room, and the door to the executive suite was closed.

Hmmmm.

Having unpleasantly surprised Mistress on earlier occasions, I knew I should discretely knock to announce my presence before trying the door, which of course I did. But when I tried the door (which does not have a lock), it would not budge.

Double Hmmmm.

"Just a second, Slave...."

A moment later she came to the door, shifting aside the vanity that she had marshaled into service as a barricade.

The first thing I noticed was her delightful clean shaven folds, on display beneath her top, and the sultry Mistress Musk that permeated our chamber.

Of course, Mistress is beyond embarrassment when it comes to a little solitary afternoon delight. She hardly needs her Slave's permission when the urge arises. And I was a little later than planned. So the train apparently had left the station without me.

But I was a little curious about what had triggered this particular urge.

"Spending some quality time with the Hitachi, Mistress?"

"It was getting a little lonely in that drawer with your T-shirts, Slave."

"And how did it go, Mistress? How many?"

"It was nice, Slave.... but only one...."

"So you left a little energy for me?"

"Of course, Slave...."

And while I was just planning on a little nap when I pulled into the driveway, somehow the sight of my wanton Mistress and that heady aroma put me in a different mood. Lucky for me, she was quite accommodating.

Celebrating Masturbation Week at UCTMW World HQ

A few days ago, Donna reminded me that May is Masturbation Week.Read all about it here.


Sadly, that’s sure the way it’s been here at the UCTMW World HQ for the last week. With Molly gone, and under her direction to “take matters into my own hands”, I’ve been doing my “duty”. But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. And when she texted me a littleCompose photo of her clean shave folds this afternoon, before hitting the sack in her hotel in Krakow… well it certainly made me yearn for the real thing after a week of semi-dry runs.

“Makes me want to worship, Mistress.”

“I long for it Slave.”

It’s been a week now…. Argh.

My 8th evening at home without Mistress tonight.

I know, some of the sub-sisters have been enduring somewhat longer dry spells. But I am spoiled. Self-Help is not a very satisfying substitute for the real thing.

Do you think I need to invest on some of that high end, overpriced lubricant that the WC depends on?

But apparently there is a little humor in my sad plight, to be fully exploited by this dispatch from our Senior Correspondent, received this evening after I grilled some burgers for my sullen teens.

Our Executive Editor has been without his Mistress Molly for a week now and has been required to take matters into his own hands on a once-a-day basis. This cake, spotted at the local grocery, brought his sad situation to mind. Notice the faked smile, the eyes staring blankly into space, the hands in the pants rather than properly grasping his cock. It’s just so sad. Let’s call this the Mick cake…at least for a few more days.

While Mick is permitted (correction, Donna…. Required….) to relieve pent up anxieties on a daily basis, it is an enormous drop from the usual levels of sexual activity in which he and Molly normally engage on a daily basis. There are signs this is taking an emotional toll on the poor guy.

Just today, a report was filed by office security guards stating that other office workers are refusing to get on the elevator with Mick.

It seems that while Mick waited for the Otis lift, he had inappropriate verbal interaction with a fellow employee. The following drawing was stapled to the report as a representation of what took place.

There are concerns on the home front, too. It seems that plumbers are being called to the house on a daily basis. Mick has been masturbating in the shower and, as we all know from research conducted at the University of Michigan, that just isn’t good for the plumbing.

Readers have also expressed concerns about Molly’s forced masturbation while traveling, which is wholly based on the toss of a coin by the WC.
I, too, was concerned until I received this photo of Molly taken just yesterday. I think she’s doing okay, but for some tender nipples. (note the strategic covering to hide those swollen buds).

Respectfully submitted (well, almost respectfully)
Donna, Senior Correspondent UCTMW

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.

Our Toy Collection

Finally had the chance over the weekend to dump our toy collection on the bed and rise to the challenge from SFP and Sin last week.

Of course there are a few things missing, as I realized after I shot the photo and put our collection back in the bags and drawers where they languish between use: my cock cage was on me at the moment. (Mistress had me wear it Saturday when I went down to rake leaves at a rental property we own; it’s a helpful reminder to me to “behave”, and some extra security for her too.) The Hitachi was parked under the bed, all ready for the date Mistress would have later that afternoon with our Western Correspondent. And Now I remember another batch of items that have not been put to use in a while – an obsolete vibe or two muscled aside by Mistress’s preferred power tool of the moment.  But you get the picture.  There are lots of goodies useful for the restraint and discipline of a recalcitrant Slave.

And I was reminded that those nipple clips had not been put to good use in a few months.  Maybe next Sunday?

Yesterday Mistress made an amusing revelation when she came to my office for worship.

She was sitting on her throne – a chair pressed against the door with a thick soft blanket underneath to absorb all those juices we create – and sliding off her clingy black trousers (only one leg really, enough to give me access to her slick and fragrant folds).

“M said he loved the blog this morning, Slave…. And the photos…well….”

“Yes, Mistress?”

I was on my knees now, ready to “dig in”. I confess: I am an addict, and the font of my addiction was right there in front of me now, taunting. I wasn’t too intent on a lengthy conversation. But my curiosity was piqied.

“Well he said that he blew those photos up on his computer and …. You know….”

I laughed.

“Got himself off?”

“Yes Slave… that’s what he says….”

“Impressive Mistress…. How does that make you feel? The thought of him focusing on that delightful ass of yours while taking the special occasion cock for a little joy ride?”

By now I was grazing a bit, letting my tongue slide over that moist clean shaven skin, provoking her little pink clit, that would soon be gripped possessively between my needy lips.

“It’s pretty hot, Slave….”

No doubt.

I could tell Mistress’s mind was mulling over that scenario as I began to assault her in earnest with tongue and lips, pulling at her clit now, her hips rising as I suctioned it out of it’s little hiding place. 

“Do you think other men  …. Our readers … do the same thing when they see those photos of you, Mistress…. All vulnerable and aroused?”

Her eyes were squeezed shut, her hands were grabbing at my hair (the little of it left) her thighs squeezing my head….and then she was coming for me, stifling her moan so as not to alert my colleagues outside in the hallway about what their graying, sober compadre and his delicious young wife were up to now.

Afterwards, as Mistress was tidying up, she gave me a little more details on M’s photographic preferences.

“He said he liked that one with you gripping my hand, Slave…. With my bottom all ready to be spanked.”

“I’m sure he did, Mistress….”

“He mentioned my nails …. ‘you really have nice ones” he said.”

She does… lots of maintenance makes for nice nails, and other yummy body parts too.

“And he mentioned that you must have given me a hard spanking for a change, because my bottom was so red.”

“I’m glad our Western Correspondent appreciates my effort to follow those instructions, Mistress.”

AS she left to return for work, we returned to the question I had posed earlier: are there other guys out there who “get off” on Mistress’s lovely body parts? And which are their favorites? It would be nice to hear.

“You know, Mistress, there could be women out there who delight in those photos too?”

“I guess that’s possible, Slave.”

Would it be interesting to hear from Mistress’s male (or female) admirers?

Could be.

Appetites

Some of the comments we got after Slave’s attempt at “orgasm overload” on our switch day Sunday got us talking here in the Collins’ household about sexual appetites.

Mistress was pretty tender after all the “abuse” she absorbed on Sunday from her favorite power tool. So we passed on early morning sex, and Mistress settled for one of those finger induced comes as she clung to me in our shower.

Then, on our drive home, Mistress shared a bit of her day’s text message trail with our Western Correspondent.

“He says he’s feeling deprived, Slave….”

“Huh?  I thought you said that he and B had ‘epic’ sex over the weekend….. “

“But that was yesterday, this is today.”

Mistress giggles. She says she feels like his confessor sometimes, getting the full orgasm count. Though I expect he demands the same from her.

“And  he didn’t  masturbate today?  That’s not like him.”

“Oh he did…. Twice he says.”

“Man…. He should be happy …. I’m not even allowed to touch.”

“Yeah…. That’s what I said ….’stop the whining…  but he just threatened to impose an orgasm embargo if I didn’t watch out….”

“Oh dear…. Wouldn’t that be a horror for you, Mistress.”

I think she caught my sarcasm, as my finger roamed up the inside of her thigh, along the smooth black fabric of her tights.

Obviously, this Slave is quite content with allowing Mistress to be the “decider” when it comes to my coming. Usually it’s twice a day, with an occasional abstinence day thrown in. She seems to know when I need it, and when a little denial might make me all the more desperate for her. And she does enjoy a desperate Slave.

“How old is M …. 51 maybe…. I don’t think I was quite that desperate to come all the time 8 years ago, Mistress.”

“You, Slave…. If anything we probably did it less back then….but now I have you  well trained to please me.”

“Glad you think so Mistress….”

“It is funny how much M needs to come Slave….I know  you would like to test whether you are woman enough to quench his appetites, Mistress….”

She got that dreamy, far way look in her eye.

“I suppose so, Slave….”

I like those little involuntary squirms Mistress displays when the subject of his special occasion cock comes to mind.

“Do you think M is a little out there though, or am I the one who is ‘under-sexed’, satisfied with once or twice a day?”

She laughed.

“Well, we did find him through a sex blog, Slave…. Maybe that should tell us something.”

Yes. I guess that is a sort of self-selecting pool.