Femdom Hits the Times

Mistress and slave are returning all too quickly to River City today, after a final day of bright sunshine and two-a-day sex. The gloom of the midwest awaits, though we will only be there for about a week before heading "across the pond" to visit our daughter "studying" in France for the holidays.

Yesterday, I unearthed Mistress's favorite power tool to give her a special treat before we joined some friends for dinner. She seemed to enjoy a little variety from my devoted tongue, and after a vibrant and quavering cum, she gave her slave permission to fuck her.  You can bet I took full advantage of the opportunity.

Otherwise, I tried to be on my best behavior, the smack of the riding crop on my tender aging ass still fresh in my memory.

I did note an interesting article that I shared with Mistress while perusing the NY Times on line. The Sunday Style section has long featured a column called "Modern Love". with guest writers sharing tales of romance and heartbreak that usually border on the overly sentimental, and not particularly "modern" at all. At least in this slave's perspective.

But yesterday there was a strangely amusing tale from a woman who was approached via OKCupid by a guy who wanted to be her "houseboy". What emerges is a funny tale of this lady trying to play the Domme for a guy in return for him driving her to Ikea and maybe cleaning her apartment.

Not sure why he approached her. And she may not be particularly mainstream either, since she confesses to having a video series on YouTube featuring her lolling in her bathtub smoking cigarettes, drinking marinis and singing karaoke. Check it out here: Ladies of Leisure .

While it isn't a particularly sexy tale, it's worth a read if only to see Femdom take a slight bow in our nation's "paper of record".  Here's the link: Houseboy Wanted to Serve Me. There's even a cute video that goes with it.  The conclusion appears to be that she was just not that Domme-ish. Even if she did do her best in order to get some housework done.

UCTMW Chief IT Officer Called Into Action

The nest was finally emptied late Sunday afternoon, after a busy but pleasant Thanksgiving weekend. Mistress and Slave had to put a lid their sexual antics over the four day weekend, using music on our bedroom radio, and vocal self-restraint to not disturb our cute Co-Ed with haunting images of their parents actually having sex. 

She slept in late in Sunday, so hopefully did not hear the buzz emitting from beneath our comforter of a certain  power tool, as Mistress bucked and moaned to two very compelling cums before Slave was permitted to take his own pleasure from her clean shaven folds.

It was not until after our daughter headed back to campus on Sunday afternoon that Mistress noticed some problems that called for the services of the UCTMW Chief IT Officer.  Both technical conundrums arose from the obsession that Apple has to enslave us all to their technology by making all of our devices interact, so that  the information collected on or received by one will be regurgitated onto all the others, without the stupid consumer ever asking.

Examples:

"Slave, I downloaded that new operating system onto my desk top computer, and now my text messages are showing up on the screen.  That's not good......"

No, that's not good at all. Our daughters sometimes use that computer, on a table in our living room. The last thing they may want to see is a text from a certain "Mistress" enquiring about her "Slave's" cock cage.... or commenting on the hotness of his morning worship.

And I often use that computer too.

"What about texts with J, Slave..... a Mistress is entitled to some privacy when exchanging lascivious messages....."

No, it wouldn't be good for our daughters  her Slave to observe those types of salty exchanges between the loving mother/wife and her lover, or any of her "backburner" suitors, for that matter.

As Slave was fiddling with the preferences and settings on her computer to solve the problem, Mistress noticed a new and unanticpated problem on the screen of our TV, where we were planning to watch a Netflix movie. To facilitate TV viewing of streaming video services we had bought one of those Apple TV devices. It's a clever little device that allows our larger screened TV to project what we had previously watched via computer screen.

But the good people at Apple had elected to use as a "screen saver" when no content is screening a selection of photos from my "photo-stream". You know, the photos I take on my I-phone from time to time, which I might post on facebook, twitter, or......oops....... this blog."

"We've got another IT problem here, Slave. I keep seeing photos of my naked ass and other body parts. And there's one of you in your cock cage....."

I immediately thought how that would look to our daughters, or maybe my sister who will be visiting over the holidays.

Obviously, I had another assignment in my "Chief IT Officer" role.

It took me a while, but I did stumble onto the way to deactivate Mistress's "messages" feed on her table top computer.  And while we watched some TV last night, I used commercial breaks to delete those smutty images from my "photo stream" hopefully that will work too.... as long as I remember to keep on deleting everytime I snap a naughty image of Mistress for your amusement.

A Chief IT Officers duties never end.

Full Cabana Boy Service

In my effort to assure Mistress was adequately served yesterday, Slave had unearthed Mistress's power tool for our wake-up sex, and she seemed very pleased with the outcome.

After our morning bike ride, Mistress went back to her all-day naked routine, setting herself up out on our patio, and Slave did some household chores, then settled into watching my poor pussycats figure another way to lose a game in the last quarter.

But I didn't want Mistress to feel lonely out there, with her kindle and abundant sunshine. At halftime, responding to her request, I slathered another coat of sunscreen on that shapely and firm ass, and made sure to get her shoulders and the backs of her legs too.

That's basic cabana boy service. But Mistress deserves much mores, doesn't she?

I stepped inside to collect a long extension cord, and the Hitachi, still out from its morning service.

When I emerged and Mistress noticed what I came armed with, she raised an eyebrow.

"Hmmm.... what are you up to Slave?"

"Just want to make sure you get a happy ending, Mistress...."

She hardly objected as I thumbed her favorite power tool on, and slid it between those firm and delicious thighs, sidling it up against Mistress's clean shaven folds.

It seemed only a matter of a minute or two before Mistress was squirming, and then asking if it was all right to cum.....

Who was I to say no.

Then I returned to that desultory football game, knowing that I had at least spent some afternoon time productively.

Two-a-Days

It's training camp time here in River City for our local PussyCats. Hope springs eternal, and Slave has particular interest in our first draft choice, who hales from my alma mater.  The new players' contract seems to have put an end to the macho two-a-day practice regime in the hot August sun. Instead, the practice is limited to three hours, with minimal contact, and lots of "classroom" work. Maybe my nickname for the team is even more appropriate. But here at the UCTMW World HQ we are on a streak of three two-sex-a-day encounters.

"You're kind of horny this weekend, Slave.... what's up?"

"Hmmm.... not sure, Mistress, I mumbled, after Mistress gave me permission to cum once again."

This was Sunday afternoon. There had been our typical frisky wake-up sex already that morning, with Slave treating Mistress to a little starter cum with her favorite power tool, before proceeding to the main event.

Then there was a bike ride, a lavish breakfast Mistress prepared, some time in the sun reading the NY Times, a trip by Slave to the grocery, and, back in the Executive Suite, by late afternoon.... well Slave was in the mood for a little more than worship.

Yesterday, Mistress worked from home, and Slave headed to the office after our wake-up sex rituals were complete.

I was home by 6 pm, but the good news was that one of the Co-Ed's had an appointment at the Apple Store (another replace my phone scam), which left a little time before Slave prepared dinner.

I slipped out of my work attire, as Mistress was finishing up a document.  She had on one of those mid thigh, bare back tie-dye dresses she sports on a day at home, and looked particularly fetching.

"Anything on your calendar right now, Mistress?"

Soon we were back in beg.... Mistress had lost her tie-dye dress, and some fervent worship was rewarded with a little late afternoon indulgence.

"What's with you Slave?  all this energy?"

"Maybe I'm just whipping myself into shape for the re-emptying of the nest, Mistress.... "

It's nice that it coincides with football season.

Switch Day Interruptus

Mistress and Slave were engaged in full switch day rituals here in our empty (if only for the weekend) nest. Her wrists were bound to the corners of the bed with those red leather cuffs. Her ankles were spread as well, using soft beach towel strips.

There was kanoodling, stroking, and even a little spanking as I "coerced" from her the naughty details of her Friday night sex marathon with a lover who shall not be named.

"Haven't we been through all this before, Slave?"

"What sort of interrogator settles for the first version of some sordid story, Mistress?"

Ultimately I deployed her favorite power tool - which apparently had been utilized in the wee hours here Saturday morning - to tease, frustrate, and ultimately provide he with the cum she seemed so desperate for that I had her begging.

Now it was time for Slave to "cash in", and I was working on a from the rear entry when her I-phone rang.

Damn.

Normally this rude interruption would be ignored, but with two daughters on the road - one at some crazy music festival, fatherly duty prevailed to make sure all were safe.

But....it was our Western Correspondent.... the WC.... who we'd not heard from in weeks due to some health problems. I wasn't inclined to blow him off, so I picked up, and even untied Mistress so she could talk to him.

"Slave's got me all tied up for switch day, Mike."

It seems he is home, not completely well, but hopefully on the mend. We hope he'll be back to full strength soon. The lubricant industry is counting on him to hit their ambitious annual sales targets for the year!

By now, my work-a-day cock was hardly of much use, so I rebound Mistress's wrists - this time in front - and compelled her to use her considerable oral skills to restore to its former glory. Soon I was back in action, this time plowing forward from above when.... you guessed it.... the phone rang again.

This time it was music fest girl.... was there some emergency that had her up before noon? We had to check.

"Can you buy me an I-phone charger today.... mine broke...."



Uhhh..... no.  No shopping expeditions planned for electronica this Sunday.



"Just stop at  a truck stop in the drive home.... they are fully stocked."




With this "emergency" handled, Slave as once again less than fully armed to resume the task at hand.




Luckily, Mistress was in no position to deny me the stimulative attention of her lush mouth one more time. And there were no more interruptions before I was .... finally..... granted permission to bring this oft interrupted mission to its fitting end.

At least I got the merit badge for persistence!

Details Embargoed

As Slave was finishing up his business here in the Land of Enchantment, and headed for a night at a dreary airport motel for my early flight this morning, Mistress was exercising her contractual rights.

But for reasons that are a little embarrassing, there was a surprise in store for her. Let's just say I didn't here from her until around 2 am her time, when she and a person not to be identified called it a night.

"That was quite a night Slave... I feel like I just rode a camel."

And Mistress, after her trip to the mysterious east, knows of camels. Well not "knows" in that sense, but you get my drift.

This morning as I updated her on my flight, she sent this photo of the detritus left behind after her very busy evening. Tequila for two. Plus some powered assistance.

Seems like Mistress found other ways to amuse herself with Slave off on this too long and poorly timed business trip.

But, at least until the embargo is lifted, what happened in the UCTMW Executive Suite, stays in the UCTMW Executive Suite.

Let's just say I'm very much looking forward to my time to share the same bed this afternoon.

A Quiet UCTMW Weekend

The time is ticking away on our empty nest here in the heartland. In just a few more weeks the cute Co-Eds will be back,  crowding out our privacy, messing up the kitchen, and demanding to know "what are we having for dinner".

So we've been hunkering down a little more than usual in anticipation of their return. Not much kinky going on here this weekend... but plenty of time in bed, reading, having sex, napping, a little more sex. You get the picture.

And no, we've not adopted a "go green" approach, WC. I rolled out the power tool yesterday morning to give Mistress an extra treat before she indulged her work-a-day cock.

We were glad to hear that things have calmed down in Boston for our friendly competitors over at All Mine. Let's hope that the team of state, local and federal law enforcers who did such a commendable job identifying and then taking out of circulation the bombers get some well deserved rest. Oddly, the "disaster" down in West, Texas, with a bigger body count, but not the drama of a manhunt has gotten much less attention.  A huge explosion of known bomb making material with no clear explanation? Too many dead first responders? Can't  you call that terrorism too? But the folks from CNN and the rest of the networks definitely had that story on the back burner. Is it because there are better restaurants in Boston?


Since we are a little short of explicit sexual content today,  make sure you read Sin's weekend entry at Finding My Submission. It's a "frank and comprehensive" catalog of things that turn her on. It left me wondering if this was a homework assignment from Big Bad, or just spontaneous human combustion.

Finally, getting back to Boston, here is an article from the Esquire ("lust during wartime") web site that was posted over the weekend (I found it on Facebook) describing the sexual implications of the big Boston lock-down on Friday.  It got me wondering if the town will see a big uptick in pregnancies nine months hence, like after the New York blackout a few decades ago.

Or were folks too busy watching TV to get it on?

Catching Up....

It was an eventful weekend here in River City, and I know I have been a little lazy in my reporting, so let’s try to catch all of you up on the ups and downs of the past few days. I don’t want to earn the WC’s reputation for sloth. At least not until I qualify for Medicare.

Sadly, that seems just around the corner now.

Friday did not bring an auspicious start to our weekend festivities.

Mistress and my family had gone out of their way to plan my “Mick’s Over the Hill” celebration. But our Friday date night turned into an unexpected trip for her in the dreaded MRI tube.

Molly had been having some strange (for her) headaches the last few days. When they became debilitating Friday morning, I prevailed on her to stay home, then got her to her doctor. He checked her out, wrote some script, but prescribed the whole MRI experience to rule out some potentially ugly things.

So there she was on our normal “picnic and a movie” night, in that dark tube, hearing all those bangs, thumps, and rings for the next 30 minutes or so. Believe me, if you don’t have a headache when they slide you into that contraption, you are sure to emerge with a doozy.

So we headed home, Mistress in pain, both of us worried about what the word would be from her Doc after some Radiologist, probably sipping thick tea in some squalid apartment in Mumbai, read the results over the internet and gave her brain the thumbs-up or down.

What was comforting through this process was that our Western Correspondent was on the edge of his seat too – or at least appeared to be through the anxious texts he was sending us from some Tex-Mex joint in the Mountain Time Zone.

Mistress was bleary eyed and in no shape to respond to them, so she had me type reassuring reply messages to M as we waited at home for the Doctor’s call.

And he seemed almost as relieved as we were when we got the call that Mistress’s brain scan was “normal”. At least as far as the trained eye could detect.

The Doc, of course, was not including Mistress’s pervy wiring in that clean bill of health. But at least we knew that these headaches could be medicated away and did not portend anything scary.

Little emergencies like this do make you consider your priorities in life though. It reminded me how lost I would be without my Molly. How much I treasure her and rely on her to get me through the day.

And what was charming about M’s text messages that evening was the sense of their deepening attachment too.

Very nice.

By Saturday morning, Mistress seemed to be on the mend, and was in the mood to allow me to take her with my hungry cock – gingerly of course – before our morning bike ride.

Later that afternoon, while watching my alma mater put some whoop ass on an overhyped opponent on the gridiron, I got an unexpected surprise: my daughter from our nation’s capitol had sprung herself loose to visit her aging father for his birthday.

Lovely.

But because she was spending the night at our house – just down the hall – her presence put the Kabosh on too exuberant a “Switch Day” on Sunday morning.

I did take the occasion to “force” an orgasm or two from Mistress with her favorite power tool. I made sure she got a good taste of my firm and needy cock with those skilled, full lips.

Then I gave Mistress an order that took her by surprise.

“Ride my cock, Slave”.

She seemed a little stunned. These apparently were words she did not expect to hear. At least not from me.

“You just called me Slave!”

“Well it is Switch day….”

“I suppose you are right, Slave…..OK.”

She slid over me, slowly impaling her self on my firm, work-a-day appendage.

Divine.

And I love it when she picks up the speed, slowly working herself into a frenzy.

My hands were free to roam: pinching at nipples, pulling at her hips to deepen my thrusts into her.

And soon Mistress was moaning as she tipped over the edge, shuddering her release, as her fingers reached back to tickle my balls so cunningly.

I could tell she was tiring now, so pulled her down on top of me, letting her after shocks play out then building her up to another powerful cum.

“Why don’t you role over now Slave and let me finish the job on top.”

She did not protest.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. We had a long bike ride, which, fortunately did not re-trigger Mistress’s headaches.

When we got back I offered to worship. Mistress seemed inclined to accept my offer, sliding down those foxy black riding tights to give me access. I took the shot above before diving in to do my “job”.

Funny how switch day ends so quickly around the Collins household, isn’t it?

Later I collected my nearly 4 year old grandson for some hanging out time. He played with our toy collection as his mouldering grampy watched our local NFL pussycats blow another game.

Mistress snoozed on the couch.

At some point she woke and rolled onto the floor with us.

“My Slave’s not giving me enough attention this afternoon”, she whispered into my ear.

We kissed as the cute grandson focused on arranging stuffed animals and tiny furniture, while grazing on a bowl of fruit loops.

It was then that I realized that multitasking on my part was quite doable.

Mistress and I were lying there on the floor. I could shield her body with mine. Cute Grandson was oblivious as I slid my fingers into Mistress jeans, and proceeded to fondle and probe her as I have been trained to do.

Mistress’s eyes were scrunched closed. Her MRI certifiably “normal” brain was focused on something other than the large guys banging into one another on the TC screen.

Soon she was shuddering, gasping quietly.

“Ummmm…. That’s much better Slave.”

Words that are music to a devoted Slave’s ears.

Was it a Punishment or a Reward?

“Get on the bed Slave. On all fours.”

Hmmm. A Feisty Mistress.

When I got home from the movies with surly teen number 2 – from the too long and unnecessarily violent but still kind of amusing “Inception -  Mistress was in our room, in the buff, pacing, animated, signing off from her date with her Dom, our Western Correspondent.

“Well …. The Slave’s home.  Guess we should say good bye.

…. Yes…..It was fun….. Talk to you tomorrow…..”

She was eyeing me.

I knew that look.

Well otrgasm-ed but in need of a cock.

“Why don’t you strip, Slave, while I get ready for bed.”

“Of course, Mistress”

She took her time. I lay on the bed, waiting for her.

Still in the cage. It had been a long day in the cage.

Particularly after her texts began arriving, mid-morning.

“You are getting punished tonight, Slave.”

My initial response “Why”, was reconsidered, followed by “Of course, Mistess”.

A good Slave would not question her Mistress’s judgment on such matters. Plus, that sort of questioning could just make matters worse.

Later, as I drove home, and Mistress headed to a dinner meeting for work, she let me know that she had plans for later that evening.

“M is home alone tonight. We have a date. You don’t mind do you Slave?”

As if my opinion counted.

“Of course not, Mistress.”

Early that morning I had worshiped her.  Then, as instructed, mounted my cage.  She shut the lock, and tucked away the key. That was about 14 hours earlier.

And while “Inception” was compelling, it was not easy to keep my mind off the thought of Mistress on the phone with M, her sopping cunt dancing to his tune, the power tool close at hand.

By the time Mistress came to bed, little key in hand, I was certainly grateful when she uncaged me, her fingers gently stroking me to life after I wriggled off the tight steel ring and the barred enclosure.

“Go put in your device, Slave.”

Hmmm. She was serious. She did want a particularly hard one.

I lubed it up, slid it home, came to bed to my naked Mistress, who still had that “cat-ate-the-canary” look after a few of those self-administered orgams supervised by M.

“How many times, Mistress?”

“Three Slave”.

“And did he get off too, Mistress”

“Oh, yes….”

She likes that. A lot. The sound of him exploding with her body in mind.

That’s when I was ordered onto all fours.

The crop was handy.

Burt first she stroked my cock with it a few times.

“I think it likes this, Slave.”

‘Well, yeah.”

Suddenly the crop was banging against my ass.  And I was squirming. And my cock ….well.

There were some interesting dynamics at work here ….crop hits ass, ass tightens, clenches in response. Probe in ass squeezes home, pressing that magic button deep inside that sends a jolt direct along the length and to the very tip of my cock..

I tried to explain as Mistress slowed the strokes against me.

“Very good, Slave…..M thought this might ne interesting. He said Mick would probably respond well to p=being cropped on all fours.”

Gee, thanks, M.

And of course the thought of M coaching Mistress on the finer point s of disciplining her Slave created a “curious excitement” as’Nilla would put it.

Come to think of it, that’s the effect it’s having right now.

So Slave is abandoning his homework and heading upstairs to attend to Mistress.

Will complete this entry for you later, dear readers.