Ouch!

Apologies, dear readers! (I know, according to Mitt Romney, one should never apologize, but I guess I'm destined to be among the 47% in a few years!) A combination of my apparently dead laptop and some readjustment to life back in River city has had us dark here since late Monday night.... and there have been some startling developments that Mistress has required me to report on to all of you.

"I need some sympathy, Slave...."

And so she shall have it, though maybe Slave deserves some sympathy too?

We left you back in the Denver airport, whining about the sudden disappearance of our Western Correspondence just when we could have used a little logistical support in the Mile High City. I had posted a blog. My laptop battery was dying. I tucked it away and began reviewing accumulated emails on my O-phone, Mistress sitting next to me.

And what pops up -- for both of us to see-- two emails in my in box from a woman from our past who Mistress has instructed me to have no further contact with.  Yes, that woman.

The emails were innocent enough (in my opinion), concerning some election day volunteer work, in response to some mass emails I had authored seeking volunteers. She was among several hundred on the distribution list. But Mistress was suspect, and remains so. Any communications had been forbidden, and this crossed that line.

I showed her the emails, before deleting them. She did not like their "way too familiar" tone. And though I've cut off contact with her for going on 4 years now, I'm not convinced that Mistress is convinced, if you get my drift.

This sent Mistress into a bit of an insecurity tailspin, and I am hoping that eventually my reassurance concerning my devotion to her will ultimately make her feel more secure.

In the meantime, this  formerly pampered house slave has had his leash tightened.

Tuesday night, I was told that from now on and until further notice I will be wearing my cage everyday... (but maybe not on weekends?)

After that, she told me to insert my aneros, then applied that particularly nasty long shoe horn to my ass, which had Slave bouncing off the bed in pain, and her telling me to stop squirming and stay "in position". 

Ouch!

Fortunately, she did let me fuck her afterwards. But only after she took the picture below and instructed me to post it and explain why I had been punished.

Yesterday, Mistress stopped by for worship in the morning at my office, and then at the end of the day. I hope that feeling my devoted tongue at work may help her bounce back from this setback.

But when we got home, it was back to business. First there was some reference to the possibility of making me sleep in the cage, Lucky for me she relented, after considerable groveling by me to the tune of how  I would much rather have sex with her than suffer the consequence of middle of the night erections banging up against that steel cage.

But before there was any love making in the UCTMW executive suite, she got out the shoe horn one more time to redden my bony old ass all over again.

Double ouch!

Hopefully Mistress will realize sooner rather than later that her Slave is hopelessly in love with her and would do nothing to mess with the amazingly wonderful life we share.

Mistress Gets a Spanking

Mistress stopped by for some worship after lunch on Thursday, allowing me to take this picture of her as she makes her luscious cunt available for suitable worship. Hot lace up boots, don’t you think?

But that’s not what this entry is about…..is it?

No. Our sordid little tale of the day begins on our drive home.

“I think the Western Correspondent is a little pissed at me, Slave.”

This peaked my curiosity. Much more interesting than the gossip we had been sharing about the local non-profit poo-bahs.

“Oh really, Mistress…. Why would that be?”

“I told him maybe I need a REAL boyfriend…. Not one I just talk to on the phone or trade text messages with….”

This part got the attention of other parts of me.  Actually a specific part.

Twitch. Damn. How predictable.

“Oh, really….. I bet that might get M a little annoyed, Mistress.”

I was going to ask for a little more detail, a rationale for her provocation, but then the chime on her text message went off.

I didn’t need to be told who it was asking for her attention.

“He says I need a spanking, Slave….”

“I am always happy to oblige, Mistress. Sunday is just a few days away.”

“I’m telling him ‘who put you in charge’”.

A few seconds later I heard the little chime again.  She giggled. And she squirmed  just a tad too. Mistress has her own tell-tale twitch.

“He says, ‘you did, Slave’….”

Ask him if I should advance that spanking to this evening, Mistress.

A few moments later we got M’s response.

“He says I should get ten hard ones tonight, with the shoe horn, Slave.”

Suddenly Mistress was in a compliant mood.

Inttiguing.

We arrived home, Mistress got some lasagna ready and popped it in the oven. Then it was upstairs to our Chambers.

I switched on the Evening News to dampen any unsavory  sounds for curious teens. Don’t want them to think Dad abuses  Mom.

Mistress stripped off that black form fitting dress you see above. She was down to her black bra and tights.  I pulled a chair into the center of the room. The shoe horn – wooden and 15 inches or so long –was looped over the chair already.

How convenient.

“Pull down the tights and get over here Mistress. “

She was very obedient, settling over my lap.

My fingers couldn’t help but test and tease her.

“Hmmm…. Already wet, Mistress. You are his little slut, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am Slave.”

She took her medicine well. And when I got to ten, alternating cheeks, nice red stripes on her firm ass, she said, “that’s enough, Slave.”

“You were keeping count, Mistress?”

“I suppose I was….”

I gave her two more just for her own good. Then my fingers explored again. As I expected:

Soaking.

It’s so nice to have her squirming on my lap that way.

I got her close to her particular edge, but decided there was another, better way to skin this pussy.

“Come over to the bed, Mistress. Now it’s time for your reward.”

She lay there, on her back, her tights still drooped down to her thighs, pinning them together a bit. Not quite bondage, but a taste of it.

I reached for the Hitachi, on the floor under the bed, and thumbed it on.

Mistress seemed pleased, then increasingly excited as I pressed it home, exactly where she likes it.

But what was interesting was how she fought it,  dragged out her inevitible surrender to its cunning and ultimately irresistible pulsation.

“It’s Ok to imagine it was M spanking you Mistress, and now forcing you to come for him.”

“I know, Slave….”

But it seemed Mistress was trying to struggle against it, trying to deny the tool’s power, and M’s power over her too.

But, alas, poor Mistress, we know how that comes out in the end, don’t we?

When Mistress finally surrendered to the inevitable, it was with one of those moaning, sobbing orgasms that left her with tears streaking the mascara left over from her day at the office.

It’s the kind of display that makes a Slave proud.  Nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done.

And afterwards, once I helped her slide out of those tights, she took my cock in hand and made sure I surrendered to her too.

MIstress dusts off the Shoe Horn

Maybe it was the stunning sight of Aisha’s post risotto spooned bottom this morning – I showed it to Mistress after she read the blog and we had made love – but when we retired to our chambers yesterday Mistress was in the mood to discipline her Slave.

She told me to insert my little white device. She clearly wanted the hardest version of cock I could make available to her.

When I came to bed, naked, after following her directions, it was already twitchy, interested in what she had in store.

Mistress had her laptop open., sitting up in the bed against a bank of pillows. She had one of those lacy, frilly and very shear top and bottom numbers I had gotten her several years ago. Very charming.

“Just a minute, Slave…. I need to send a little good night note to M….”

I stood there patiently as she typed away. They had not had a chance to talk through the day, but there certainly had been a little text message chatter between them. It made me think about their surprise Friday morning date. And that I needed to ask Mistress about one of his texts she had shown me. Something like:

“Don’t forget to tell your Slave about the part where you had to suck the Domme’s clit, and make her cum….. “

Hmmm. I guess I need to ask about that one….

By now Mistress had put down the laptop and assumed a more commanding demeanor.

“You know Slave…. M reminds me that I need to be firmer with you… is that true?

“I have no problem with that Mistress….”

She gave me that little look of disapproval.

“Passive aggressive. Slave. Is he right …. Should I be firmer?”

“You should, Mistress….”

Why is it so embarrassing to ask to be punished?

“Why don’t you lie face down on the bed, Slave.”

“Of course.”

I settled onto the bed, as directed. She was not leaving this thread unclosed though.

“Is he right, Slave…. Do you need to be punished more often?”

“I am sure he is right, Mistress.”

She reached for the long wooden shoe horn hanging from it’s loop on a chair at her desk. The sound of it smacking against her elegant hands was …. startling. My butt clinched, gripping the white probe, sending a little jolt down my cock as it pressed against the cool sheets.

Then the wood slapped against my ass.

“Ouch….. and why am I being punished, Mistress….”

“You were a little grumpy with me , Slave…. Several times this week….”

“I suppose I was …. Sorry, Mistress.

Smack. Ouch. My ass squirmed. But I took my punishment.

“Will you do it again, Slave?”

“No , Mistress…. I won’t”

Smack.

“I don’t believe you, Slave…. Will you do it again….”


Smack. A particularly hard one. I could feel the blood rushing to my ass, wondering if it was already getting red and puffy. Or, in my case, puffier.

“Wow,,,, that hurt Mistress.”

“It was supposed to Slave…. Now lets try again…. will you act that way again….?”

“I suspect I will, Mistress…. It’s probably my nature…. “

Smack… Youch.

I could hear the tone of wry amusement in her voice now. She knew I was hopeless … of course I would get grumpy again.

“But will you try to be more respectful of your Mistress when you get in one of those snits?”

“Yes…. Mistress. I will certainly try.”

And maybe the knowledge that there could be painful consequences of this sort will help me “stifle”.

“Roll over, Slave….”

Ahh. Apparently my punishment was over. I had taken 10 or so. She had been easy on me. But I could feel the glow of my bottom as I rolled over to present my semi-hard cock to her.

She poked and prodded it a bit with the shoe horn. “Ooohing” and “Ahhing” a little as she made it twitch and stretch.

Then she hung the horn back on the chair and slid into bed with me, her fingers working their magic where the hard wood had been so recently.

I slid down to cover her folds with my mouth, sliding the silky undies she wore off her and making sure she had a worthy starter cum.

But then I was on my back again, and Mistress gentle “torture” of my cock and balls resumed. All finger tips teasing and tormenting, until she had me squirming and begging for the privilege to fuck her.

“My you are rather demanding, Slave…. What’s the deal?

“Ahhh you’re driving me crazy Mistress…. But I know you don’t want me to come this way…..wouldn’t you rather have me fuck you?

“I suppose I would, Slave….”

Her work done, Mistress rolled onto her back…

I was happy to take over from there.

Mistress gets some coaching.

When Slave came upstairs on Tuesday morning, after finishing my daily “homework assignment”, Mistress was clearly in the mood for action. She read my blog entry with some amusement, as I nuzzled her already quite liquid cunt.

“Did you start without me this morning, Mistress? You’re already very wet.”

“No Slave….but I may require the Hitachi this morning. I think I am getting addicted.”

No surprise. Between it’s merciless efficiency and the words whispered into her ear by her Master as he instructs her how and where to apply it, addiction seems like a very likely outcome. Poor dear.

I pulled the device from under the bed and switched it on.

“Show me where he tells you to apply it Mistress….”

She did just that, using her hand to position it just so. I took over from there.

“And what does he say when you have it in the proper position, Mistress?”

“He says, ‘Slave’, …. he calls me his Slave, ‘Slave, remember to ask for permission before you come.’”

“How does that feel, Mistress?”

“Humiliating, Slave.”

And how do you ask for permission?”

“I say, may I come now, M?”

I hope he makes her say “please”.

And at about that time Mistress came with full force, moaning with that sexy, throaty voice of hers, and writhing against the little churning bulb at the end of her favorite toy.

Later that day, on the ride home, Mistress and I spoke about my trip out of town the next morning, to our nation’s capitol. (I am on the plane even now, as I type this.)

Fortunately, she’s joining me there Thursday evening for a little two day get-away. But we will be apart for 36 hours or so. Not used to that these days. It will be lonely in my bed tonight.

We talked about what toys to bring. And one thing she vetoed was bringing the Hitachi for play when she arrived. She was unnerved at the thought of the NTSA guy pulling it from her bag and asking pointed questions.

I offered to bring it with me, but that was vetoed. I guess she had other plans for it while I was gone. Which got my mind going in an naughty direction.

“Maybe I should hide the Hitachi before I leave town, Mistress.”

I was being provocative.

“That would be very bad, Slave. Maybe I should call M now and report this bad behavior.”

And she did, dialing the phone and finding our Western Correspondent readily available.

“You won’t believe this, M. Mick is leaving town in the morning and is threatening to hide the Hitachi before he leaves.”

I could hear his laugh crackling over the line. And he was talking to her too.

“He says he’s going to train me to be a better Mistress. That I need to be much more obedient and deferential to me.”

“He’s probably right Mistress. That was clearly inappropriate.”

“He suggests I have you wear the steel cage when you leave in the morning. I’ll bet you would enjoy explaining that to some curious female NTSA guard when the metal detector goes off.

I imagined myself, being pulled aside, and wanded. And the loud noise that wand would make as it crossed below my belt buckle. Yikes. She wouldn’t would she?

“He also suggests I give you a good spanking when we get home.”



Oops. Bad development. Then I heard her say to him:

“I have this long shoe horn we got from a hotel in Chicago. I think we’ve posted a picture of it …. Yes, that’s the one. I’ll use it on him when we get home. Good advice. Talk to you later…..”

Mistress rang off.

My hand was on her thigh, sliding up under her hiked up skirt. I do like the way Mistress squirms ever so deliciously when she talks to our Western Correspondent.

“I’m going to take his advice you know….and before our bike ride. It want your bottom nice and sore when you sit on that bike.”

Why was all this threatening talk making my cock thicken?

One sick Irishman here.

At home Mistress stripped away her work costume of black dress and undies, and lay across the bed. She was ready for worship. And I was happy to kneel. I thought I did a particularly earnest job of massaging her naked lips and clit with my tongue. She seemed pleased once she was satisfied. But I had not earned a reprieve.

“OK, why don’t you pull down those shorts and lay across the bed, Slave.”

And I did. She wasted no time applying the wooden shoe horn to me with some relish.

“This is for threatening to hide our toy, Slave. How and when I use it is at my discretion, not yours.”

“Yes, my bad, Mistress”, I said obsequiously, while knowing that someone else might have something to say about when she did or did not use it.

“Yes, it was. Very very bad”

With the tenth or so stroke, I was being unusually vocal in my response, and my bottom was squirming on the bed. It’s actually harder to take this sort of punishment when not restrained. But I was obedient and took my medicine.

“Here are three more, just to make sure you don’t get in trouble while in DC.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Mistress.”

And of course, she doesn’t.

When she was done, Mistress snapped the photo above, her tool draped across my reddened bottom. She instructed me to post it with today’s blog, and she texted the photo off to M to show that she had followed his suggestion with obvious effect.

“Now let’s go for that bike ride , Slave.”

Chastened, I slid my bike shorts up over my tender ass.

This would be interesting.