This Could be The Last Time....

Slave is actually retiring from his long time partnership at the end of the year. The time is right and the thought of not having to show up at an office on a regular basis is liberating.

But along with some of my colleagues and the expansive view from my corner office perch, there is one ritual that will be sorely missed as I scale down my practice to something more laid back: those leisurely worship sessions behind my closed office door.

Yesterday at the end of the work day, my fellow worker bees through a retirement reception at the office. It was something I had been dreading.

"It feels like going to your own funeral, Mistress....."

I was in a dark suit and Mistress had a very dark blue dress on that verged on black.  Mourning attire.  She reminded me of that old Johnny Cash line. He always dressed in black and when someone asked why he always looked like he was going to a funeral, he would respond "Maybe I am...."

But before my "funeral" started, there was time for what could be our last in office worship. Mistress wriggled one leg out of those silky black tights. I pushed a chair against the door, draped that all purpose blanket on her "throne" and went to work.  It was a melancholy moment in a way. Savoring those musky juices and reminiscing about all the cums I had been able to deliver her in that sealed chamber sitting 28 floors above the River City street grid.  As usual, it did not take Mistress long to  ascend to the state of sexual bliss that my practiced tongue has been trained to deliver. I suppose we both have a pavlovian response to this special space.

After the dust settled and her pulse returned to the norm she rearranged her clothing for our little party, and I caught this fetching view of her black tighted bottom.  A bonus shot for our readers.


But will it be the Last Time?  I do know the fellow (Mike) who will be taking over my office come January. In fact, he is a tall handsome guy who has always had an eye for Mistress. They spent a good bit of time last night chatting each other up (or was it flirting?) as I accepted the congratulations of my colleagues and our staff on my "much deserved" retirement.  Who knows, maybe Mike will let us borrow the space from time to time in the future. Or, better yet, maybe Mistress can train Mike to perform comparable services should she decide she misses the view.

'Tis the Season....

Here in River City Mistress and slave have been counting the days until our holiday family duties are over and we can head west for some post-Christmas skiing at our SW hideaway. But that doesn't mean we can't have a little kinky fun.

Over the weekend there was some hot morning sex and afternoon worship, including the deployment of Mistress's favorite power tool for a little extra Sunday morning thrill. And tomorrow night there are plans for Mistress's lover Jay to visit for dinner . . . and maybe more?

And while some may see this as the holiday season, slave with his peculiar  obsession, sees this as "tights season", with lots of ladies now distracting me with their tights' clad legs in various shades and designs....

Like this lady on the streetcar at lunch the other day:


Or this bank clerk taking some early winter sun at lunch time on a downtown square:


 Unfortunately, we don't have a subway in River City, so I don't get to take any sneaky photos like this:

Mistress surprised me when I came home last night, shortly after she ended her own busy work day meeting with clients.

"I have my special tights on today, slave...."

"You mean...."

"Yes, the peek-a-boo tights...."

"Yum....."

It didn't take me long to "persuade" Mistress to sit back on the bed and let her slave get to work on those easy to access clean shaven folds.... with my face pressed against the texture of her black tights as I worked hard with tongue and lips to please her. It was particularly intriguing to consider that she had been gallivanting around town, meeting with folks who had no idea that beneath her dark and elegant dress her her "lady bits" were free ranging.

Mistress seemed pleased with my efforts as I delivered her a apres work day cum.

"You do enjoy that, don't you slave...."

"You think?"

Tights Fetish Nirvava

Mistress and slave are still on our EuroJunket, having covered three countries over the last three days. We slogged thru the trenches in Loraine, spent a final night in Brussels, then toated our daughter down to Spain for a weekend of art and pinxos.

But the constant distraction for slave has been the preference of so many European women for tights, whether for work or a night out.

Brussels has a growing bike culture, and my head was turned more than a few times by lovely ladies rolling by - day or night - in short skirts and dark tights.


Theree were tights in the train stations:


And more tights in window displays:



Fortunately,  Mistress also got into the mood in the evenings for dinner:



Turns out the ladies of Basque Country have gotten the memo:



And while I've run into this movie star in the tiny grocery near our SW hideaway, she's usually in jeans, not dressed like in this window here:

,

Hopefully I won't get run down by a Tram while gawking!

Cuckolding in the White House?

Before we get to our provocative headline, let me pause briefly to mark the sad passing of this year's tights season here in UCTMW Land.  After (hopefully) a final blast of winter last week, warm weather has returned to our quaint river valley here in the heartland. Slave's been able to ride his bike to work, and Mistress has declared that her tights have been put away until next November.

It's a shame in a way. Slave certainly has a lingering fetish for Mistress in those smooth, silky black tights that she wears during the winter months. But when she appeared at my office on Wednesday before we headed to dinner downtown with some friends, she was back into the bare legs / black boots look.  Rest assured I made sure to provide a little late afternoon worship before we headed out into a warm, rainy night on the town.

Now, onto another subject....Mistress and slave have been binge watching the latest season of House of Cards, the dark political thriller starring Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright as a first couple so manipulative and cynical that they make our current crop of Presidential candidates look like characters from Sesame Street.

There have been a few choice moments of sexual adventure over the past three seasons: Frank providing some skillful oral worship while a young female reporter talks to her father on the phone; Claire in bed with a NYC artist lover; and a brief three way with a loyal secret service agent.

But this year, Frank and Claire have plunged full bore into the world of cuckolding, with Frank indulging his wife's flirtation with a much younger novelist / speech writer. The episode we watched last night ended with a tableau familiar on a few occasions here, and maybe in the homes of some of our cuckolding compatriots.

After getting "permission" from her husband, Claire has a White House sleepover with her younger lover. And there they are in the morning, in the kitchen upstairs in the Presidential residence, all quietly sharing breakfast:

Living the cuckold dream!

Sucker's Bet

Here at the UCTMW World HQ slave had an unscheduled abstinence day on Monday. Mistress had one of those way-too-early meetings to attend, meaning that there was only time for some early morning worship.

Slave was able to ride his bike to work with the temps pushing into the 40's here.  When I wandered into the bedroom after my up-hill slog, Mistress was lounging in bed in her black tights and undies, having ended her work day 30 minutes or so earlier.

Fortunately, both of us had the energy for some end of the day worship. Mistress wriggled her silky
black tights down far enough to provide her slave with access, and my eager tongue was quickly on task. And although we opted for a pre-dinner nap rather than full blown fucking, I have a feeling I'm going to "get lucky" this morning.

We did spend some time last night watching caucus returns from Iowa. And although we don't feel we have a "dog in this hunt" the way we did in 2008, it's always amusing to watch the talking heads hyper-ventilate over all those farm folk huddling in school auditoriums and social halls flipping coins and counting scraps of paper.  And you had to laugh at the notion that the Donald is now a certified LOSER. And to a Canadian, no less! The biggest winner though might be Goldman Sachs: they paid the apparent winner on the D side more than $600,000 in speaking fees, and bankrolled Ted Cruz's Senate campaign to the tune of $250,000. Plus Cruz's wife is on leave from GS. They clearly got what they paid for from Iowa!

Yesterday we did get a message from our Western Correspondent, who has proposed a bet with Donna over Sunday's Super Bowl. Check out his proposed terms:

Well Donna has asked me the terms of our bet

I purpose that we bet Mick and Molly.....

After all Donna

When was the last time you were paid by that skin flint Mick!

If you win Donna 

Mick must stay in his cock cage for 3 days

And Molly can cum as many times as she wants

I know I know that would be a record 

For the over pampered house slave

But still it's just a bet

But if I win

Mick must still stay in his cock cage for 3 days

And  Molly

Can't cum for 3 days

But He must tease her all the time

Pinching her nipples 

Rubbing her Clit

Keeping her on edge!

But if the Lovely Molly can set up a date with one of her Cuckolders 

Then she can cum as often as she wants during those 3 days!!!!!

As long as the side dish provides the orgasms.....

I know we are risking a lot Donna:)

But it is for a good cause!

Nice try, Mike. And Donna. But it seems a little unfair to put the burden on poor old Mick or the lovely Molly to suffer if one of your teams fails to prevail on Sunday. Aren't we suffering enough by virtue of the fact that the Pussycats haven't been to the big game since the days of Joe Montana and Jerry Rice?  Your proposed wagering contract fails for lack of consideration.

Let me suggest something else:  Mike, you go without your high end lube for an entire week if the "Sheriff" can't find a way to beat Superman! If you can figure a way to stroke one off with a dry SOC (special occasion cock) then more power to you!

And Donna, if it turns out the Dreaded Donkey Defense (DDD) turn out to be the kryptonite that can quash the TD dance steps of Mr. Newton, then you go without your trusty vibrators for a week!

How are those terms?

Day in the Sun, Night On the Town

Mistress and slave are winding down their pre-Christmas getaway. On Sunday we packed lots of action into our day: robust wake-up sex with the rising sun shining over the mountains into our bedroom window; lots of skiing on slopes that have more than the typical share of snow this early in the season; then back to our little hideaway where Mistress enjoyed some blazing afternoon sun.

Don't you like the tights she wore under her ski pants?  I know her slave did!

After a nap to rally our strength - with a little worship thrown in - Mistress and slave headed out for a night on the town.

At a "silent auction" for two local charities, we sipped wine and mixed with some of the locals, particularly a recently married f/f couple who seemed taken by Mistress and a little disappointed when they discovered that the balding guy standing next to her at the bar was actually with her. Nevertheless they provided lots of entertainment.  They described themselves as denizens of these parts as well as LA and Denver, who appear on a TV show which is a sort of "Shark Tank" for the burgeoning cannabis industry prompted by the legalization movement in CO, CA and WA.  The two were probably in their early 50's, leaned to the femme side of the spectrum, and were charming in a brash Hollywood sort of way.

Somehow the conversation turned to how welcoming the local community, which might otherwise seem rather traditional,  has been  to lesbian ladies and gay marriage. The blonde of the couple speculated to me that it may be that the western culture was well tuned to strong, independent female "pioneer" types, who could raise a barn, rope a steer, or put a man in his place, if need be.  I happily agreed.

"And that's exactly how Molly and I are", using my best deferential tone.

"So she wears the pants in the family", the blonde said, nodding toward Mistress, with a raised eyebrow. Her eyes seemed  focused with more than a little interest on the fit and sensuous body filling the short skirt and black tights that Mistress was wearing for this "fancy" holiday event.

"You could certainly say that.... absolutely.  I try to be of service to her in whatever way I can....cooking, whatever...."

I'm not sure she got the point about my role here in the UCTMW household, but she and her spouse seemed very interested in getting back in touch with Mistress in the weeks to come.

Spinning Season

Mistress and our last remaining Co-Ed, in town for the holiday, have been going to morning spinning classes the last few mornings. And while it's cut into our shared bike rides, slave didn't realize that spinning has it's own kinky allure.

The costume.

Check out the rather fetching black tights Mistress combined with some cowboy boots for her trip to the spinning salon:

I was a little surprised how fetching Mistress looked just to go to a morning exercise class.

"You don't actually spin in cowboy boots, do you Mistress?"

"Of course not, that would be silly, slave....they provide special shoes there."

"Sort of like bowling?"

"NO it's nothing like bowling slave....you actually work up a sweat. Try it some time with me."

No. spinning isn't for me. I actually did it once with Mistress a long time ago. way too exhausting for an old, pampered slave.  And my sense is this place is mostly a babe thing. But if the babes where hot tights like this to exercise, maybe I should reconsider.  It would burn a lot of calories, and the view might no be too bad either.

Of course, Mistress and slave were able to enjoy their morning wake-up sex, playing a little music to mask our furtive couplings from the two daughters and one boyfriend across the hall from us before that mid-morning spinning session.

Then we were off to run our respective errands. Slave had some household chores to do, a trip to Home Depot, and even did a little Christmas shopping.  Mistress and our daughters went to the third consecutive family meal with the Dowager Domme and her sister and brother in law at a local restaurant, which I was able to get a pass on.....

When we got together back home at around 2:30 pm, Mistress explained how she let us dodge another big feed bag family feast.

"My mother was a little miffed when I told her we would not be coming to her house tonight for "leftovers", slave.....you owe me....."

Yes, I definitely owe her. The thought of three nights in a row chowing down with the same in-laws was a little more than a pampered slave could handle. And a night at home with Mistress was a lot more appealing.

Plus there was a bonus....Our Co-Ed was lured to grandma's house at the thought of leftover turkey and pies. And truth be told, she doesn't get as much time to spend with family as we do. With our recent grad working late and her boyfriend out with boyfriends, well that left us with a temporarily empty nest for at least a few hours, starting at 6 pm sharp.

You can bet we fully exploited it!

There was some introductory worship, some very enthusiastic cock riding, and then, after she had enjoyed several cum, Mistress gave her slave permission to cum.

So rather than Black Friday, Mistress and slave celebrated Two-fer Friday.

It was so much better than getting in a brawl at Best Buy over a wide screen TV!

Slacker Slave

Holiday overload  has already begun here at the UCTMW World HQ. One of my older daughters and her very earnest husband joined us for dinner here last night.  At least it was a small, manageable crowd to cook and clean up after. And some nice dinner conversation that was not swallowed by the din of too many squabbling family members.

Tonight it's a very late night drive to the airport to collect our youngest daughter. Then Wednesday evening we go to the Dowager Domme's house for dinner, just in time to begin expanding our bodily cavities to prepare for Thursday's forced feeding.

In the meantime, all this forced family timing can get slave distracted from his prime directive - appreciating and pleasing Mistress.

Yesterday was an abstinence day for me because Mistress had one of those too early Monday morning meetings. But I did get to appreciate Mistress slithering into those fetching black tights that hit some of my hottest buttons.

When I got home from work I first had to focus on getting some of our dinner into the oven.  But that did leave about 45 minutes before our guests arrived.  That gave me just enough time to shed the power suit, pull on some jeans, and then implore Mistress to wriggle down those tights (she still had them on) for me to shower those clean shaven folds with some much needed attention.

Today I'm a slacker because 1) I did not wear the cage yesterday; and 2) I can't wear it today because I am dropping off my daughter's car for service and will ride my bike into the office.

Mistress was a little disappointed when she heard the news.

"Sounds a little too convenient an excuse, slave."

And I must say I do enjoy that moment when Mistress closes the lock on my cage, particularly on those days when Mistress has some extracurricular plans of her own.

I feel a little guilty denying her the pleasure of knowing her cock is locked away for the day.

Maybe I have to give her that pleasure during Thanksgiving dinner?

Tights Season Has an Inauspicious Start

Mistress and slave had a pretty laid back weekend here in River City. There was that raucous night of domestic discipline and ass fucking Friday night. More wake-up sex on Saturday, and then even more sex here Saturday afternoon.

Cold and gloom had descended on our town, with the thermometer stuck in the 40's. It meant there was no excuse but to huddle in bed and let nature take its course.

Sunday was a little busier. After deploying Mistress's favorite power tool as a prelude to our morning sex, Slave spent the afternoon watching the now 4-0 Pussycats send the Chiefs back to the reservation.  (I do miss our old blogger compadre Suzanne when football season kicks in, since Mistress is hardly a sports fan!) Mistress spent some time with her Mother and sister who was in town this weekend.

Back at home at around 5:30, we were back in bed, and Mistress enjoyed a little more worship before we paged through the Times.

Mistress pointed out this article on the history of stockings and pantyhose in yesterday's magazine: The Politics of Pantyhose.  The gist is that the workplace expectation that women wear hose to cover their lovely stems is some hideous form of male repression. The trend is to leave them in the drawer, gathering lint. On the other hand, bare legs, even in the cold of winter are a "power move" by those women who have the legs (like Mistress) which can pull that off. If not, I guess you go with Hillary Clinton-esque popsicle colored pants suits?

In any event, this leaves a pampered if pathetic slave, with a tights fetish that goes back to middle school,  drooling over memories when all those "oppressed" women would show up on the street in their tights and hose once summer turned to fall. A gawker's delight! It's clear those times have passed.

I guess I am just stuck with football!

Another thing I am stuck with - based on popular demand apparently - is my cock cage.  My body is a little stiff from a lot of bike riding yesterday (to and from the game), so I'll be driving to work. And under Mistress's newly enforced rules, it's a cage day. I've already got that solid steel ring in place.

Are you happy, rabble?

Spring Comes to the Sangres

The WC asked the other day whether we still have snow on our ski mountain here up the road from our SW hideaway.  Thanks to a big dump in late February, there is still plenty of snow up top, though the bright sunshine and warm temperatures is starting to reduce the base from 82 inches a week ago to about 70 now....

So there is plenty left for us to enjoy for the next week or so.

But the big difference is down here on our patio, where it has seemed like summer this week. And as you might expect,   Mistress has fully exploited the change of season.

Here she was only a month ago, when the temps were colder, "sunning" in her black tights:

But yesterday afternoon, following several bracing hours on the slopes, Mistress stripped down for some sun, without the bed of snow that was there on our last trip:

Of course, the undies were a nod of discretion to our cute Co-Ed.

"If she wasn't here, Slave..... I would have ditched the undies too...."

By around 5 pm Mistress had enough sun, and we adjourned to our bed for a short "nap". And after 40 or so winks, we were able to keep our string of "two-a-days" alive for the 4th day in a row.

Mistress was particularly tasty as her Slave took a tour through those lush clean shaven folds with my lips and tongue, and she indulged me with an opportunity to take my own pleasure once I had done my job.

Who doesn't love spring?

RIP Tights Season

Mistress and her devoted slave have been hunkered down this week, working out tushes off to clear the decks for 10 days away at our southwest hideaway. It will be good to spend some time away on the slopes, even though here in the heartland we are relieved to finally be rid of that gritty snow that stuck around way too long.

The only downside of spring finally coming to River City is the demise of "tights season".  The extended chill catered to slave's fetish - Mistress in those soft and sexy black tights,with or without the convenient aperture at the conjunction of her thighs. It's all good.  And of course, slave can even be distracted by the occasional tighted non-Mistress strolling down the street in the "hustle and bustle" of our quaint "downtown".

Of course, Mistress has strict fashion rules about this sort of thing: once spring arrives, the tights are tucked back in the drawer, not to appear again until next November. [insert frowny face emoticon here]. So Slave better enjoy Mistress in her tights this week, clinging to those textures and memories, because when we get back from our little SW getaway, tights season will surely be over.

Someone else who will get to enjoy watching Mistress wriggle out of those black tights today is Jay, her lover.

Mistress filled me in on her plans last night.

"We found some time on our schedules today, Slave.... it will be quicker than we prefer, but Jay said he really wants to see me before we leave town."

I have a feeling Jay will be doing more than "seeing" Mistress this afternoon, even if their windown of opportunity will be all too brief.

Tights Season Kicks-Off

Slave has a bit of a fetish that goes back to my middle school years for ladies in tights, hose, stockings, you name it.

Mistress has some strict fashion rules: no tights until the weather turns cold. And who can really blame her when her legs look so hot au naturale.

So it was worth celebrating yesterday when Mistress finally decided that the weather had changed here in the heartland, and she popped out some sexy black tights to kick-off the season. Add in the fact that Mistress was able to drop by my office for some post-lunch worship and it was worth popping some Champagne!

But, sadly, that was the only cork that was going to pop, since Mistress had taken the precaution to make sure her slave's cock was locked up tight in cold, unyielding, stainless steel.

Regardless, I was able to relish Mistress pealing back her tights, and settling  onto her "throne" in my office, where I could  savor those sultry, musky flavors and use my lips and tongue to soothe and stimulate her clean shaven folds.

Later, at home, Mistress unlocked me, and I could worship once more, and admire Mistress's tight clad legs as, afterwords, I rested on her legs until we had to head out for a dinner engagement.

Unfortunately, there was no opportunity for me to unleash all that pent up sexual energy (and seed) last night.

But I have a feeling that's going to change this morning.

HNT: Tights Season?

It's been unseasonably cool here in the heartland. Fall is definitely in the air, a few weeks earlier than normal. But the question remains whether Mistress will be watching the calendar or the thermometer when it comes to kicking off Slave's fetish for her black tights.

I couldn't help but notice that some of the ladies downtown had already launched into their fall fashion regimes yesterday. I did as good a job as one could to appear disinterested.

As for the source of my own fetish for women in tights or hose, it probably goes back to middle school days, when some of the lovelier girls in my 8th grade class began wearing over the knee socks or hose that had me distracted as the nuns bored us with the days rote recitations of multiplication tables or passages from the catechism.

Mistress has freely taken advantage my "weakness" over the years, appearing in my office with those peek-a-boo tights, and allowing me access from her thrown as she spreads her legs, and I grovel before her, my face buried at the juncture of her thighs.

She knows my weakness, and like a clever NFL offensive coordinator, she's more than happy to exploit it. And I fall for it, hard, every time.

I guess that's why I am well suited to be her slave, and she my Mistress.

Tights Season, RIP

Back here in River City, spring has finally arrived. Trees are blossoming. Slave has already done the first annoying lawn mow of the season. After a long and unusually snowy winter, it's about dang time.

But the one downside is that Mistress had finally put away those black tights that I have a bit of a fetish for, and the women on the street are also switching to the naked leg look, depriving Slave of his lunchtime eye candy.

Of course, there are advantages - including ease of access yesterday afternoon,  when Mistress stopped by my office after lunch for a little dessert by way of my eager lips and tongue. All she had to do is wriggle out of some black silky undies and the clean shaven folds were out and ready for her Slave's devotion.

Yum.

Looking Forward to Tights Week

Yesterday, over at All Mine, Suzanne pointed out that next week has been declared by some shameless vendor or prurient blogger ""Tights Week". There's even a cool illustrated logo:

 

Of course, Slave has a bit of a fetish for a woman in tights, which Mistress has been more than happy to exploit over the years. AS I recall, the first time I laid eyes on her, at an otherwise tedious political dinner in the fall of 1987, she was wearing an unusually short dress (by River City standards) and very sexy hose that accented her incredibly long and trim legs. I was immediately smitten, and the rest is history.

However, Mistress is a stickler for an apparently unwritten fashion requirement that one only wears tights in the cold weather months. You would never see her prancing around between April 15 and October 20th or so in anything but bare legs. And of course she has the shapely and toned legs to pull that off, as visitors to this page will note. And by rationing Slave's exposure to her in tights to those limited months, she gets her Slave all the more anxious for the time when the seasons finally change and I get to observe and feel her legs encased in that tight, sensuous fabric.

I'm not quite sure where this obsession came from.... though I can recall stealing furtive glimpses of my female class mates in their hose back in my 8th  grade Catholic school days. Maybe that's why the nun clobbered me that day in class, not because she observed me "snickering" while serve as altar boy at Christmas Eve midnight mass?

In any event. tights season has arrived here in River City. On Saturday night at that house concert fundraiser we attended, many of the ladies were also decked out in various tights stylings. Mistress had the look I preferred, solid black, with black boots and a colorful silky dress that provided ample space for her legs and thighs to peek out.

But some of the overdressed 40 something house fraus, the types who spend lots of time at the gym, spend lots of cash on designer clothes, but just can't score on the "sexy" scale, were sporting some (in my book) over designed tights -  patterns that seem way too busy and distract from the "goods' they should be enhancing. Here are some examples:

 

Now maybe some of you go for this, but they don't score when it comes to my highly attuned tights fetish. 

But of course what one could not tell Saturday evening was what the ladies' skirts and dresses were hiding: were the house fraus wearing the "peek-a-boo" variety of tights that Mistress sometimes  wears, that are so suitable for office worship, or a quickie in the guest bath at some otherwise dull dinner party? That's Slave's favorite type:

In fact, Mistress has promised to drop my my office today, between meetings and a business lunch to give her Slave a little mid-day tasting opportunity. I wonder if she'll unearth some of last season's peek-a-boo tights for the occasion?

An to get in the spirit of tights week, I'm hoping that some of my fellow blogger's post pictures of themselves in tights... what about it Suzanne, Sin or 'Nilla? And what about you Tammy? If Robin can wear tights, so can you.

Nest ReInfestation

Over at Finding My Submission today, Sin was bemoaning the fact that her time with "Big Bad" will be limited with all the holiday hubub and their respective family demands in coming weeks.

The same is (sort of true) for Mistress. We have our daughters heading back for the Christmas break from their respective campuses, with one to be collected at the airport tonight.

(Despite her seeming ability to cope with the world around her I got a text early this AM asking that I "check in" to her flight for her. When I asked the question "will you be checking a bag", the rather snotty response was "Obviously". But it's not so obvious when you look at all the C*** still in her room and closet here in River City.....)

So for the next month or so, Mistress and Slave will be in close quarters once again with our two sullen ones. That means no "sleep-overs" with the cougar bait du jour, or loud and raucous sex outside the close confines of our Executive Suite. Poor Mistress will just have to take solace from my work-a-day cock and devoted tongue and lips, unless she can find time and place for a quicky with the likes of K (Mr. Perfect Cock), David or maybe J (who she visited last night for a chaste dinner with him and his son). But that seems unlikely.

Mistress did get time to stop by for some mid-afternoon worship today. But without the "Peek-a-Boo" tights she had to slide off a brown suede boot and then wriggle free of one leg of her brown tights.  After I did gone my work and gave her to a early afternoon delight, the poor girl had trouble getting that one leg back on the way it should. I wanted to take an HNT photo of her limb twisting exertions, her skirt hiked up and her legs akimbo.  But, alas, I was commanded to put down my camera.

So just use your imagination.

Just Another Friday

Our readers will be happy to know that Mistress seems to be her feisty self again after that scary headache sequence a week ago….she’s hungry for my tongue and cock, and what Slave would not relish rising to meet her hunger.

Yesterday started very early for us. Surly Teen # 1 was going on her Senior class trip to DC. I was assigned the task of getting her up and out by 4:30 am to catch the bus with her classmates.

Mission accomplished, I was fully awake, so coffee was brewed and I got the blog done and posted for her and all of you loyal followers. I noticed that Aisha was up early too!

Of course, all that smutty writing and reading got me a bit …. Agitated. So I climbed the stairs around 6 am, and Mistress seemed happy to see me. She read the blog, I showered her slippery folds with attention from lips and tongue…. I suspect you know where that led us. And afterwards, there was still time for us to fall asleep, clinging tight and close, before we finally climbed out of bed and took a pre-work bike ride around 7 am or so.

Mistress was back for more after lunch though…. Stopping by my office for some mid-day attention.

As she sat in her “throne” and wriggled out of those black tights…. Yes, ‘Nilla they do drive me crazy…. A theme she picks up in her story this morning 'Nilla: Domme Wife….she mentioned talking to our Western Correspondent earlier in the day.

“Was he glad I applied his sentence for you last night, Mistress?”

“Yes Slave…. He likes it when he can trigger some ‘epic’ sex for us…. But he says he would have given me a much crueler spanking….”

“No doubt, Mistress….”

By now I was on my knees, sliding my tongue through Mistress’s ripe and juicy parts. AS she came, Mistress wrapped her left leg around my neck, pulling he all the closer.

It’s nice to feel wanted.

On the drive home, we listened to a radio story about the “outrage” of the latest TSA airport screening procedure. Wasn’t it just a year ago that folks were whining about the security breech involving the “underwear bomber”? Now the outrage is that the security dudes might be looking at nakey scans of us, or groping our underwear?

Memories are short.

But it gave us something to talk about.

“I wonder if M’s special occasion cock would be the sort of ‘anomaly’ that triggers a hand frisk of his ‘junk’ Mistress?”

She just raised an eyebrow.

“Bad, Slave.”

“How do you think they would react if they saw my steel cage under there, Mistress?”

She laughed.

“They’d go crazy, Slave.”

I’m waiting for the Tea Party types to propose a “free market” solution to this whole intrusive TSA search thing. Let the Airlines decide whether they want to have security or not. Just let their passengers know so they can decide whether to assume that messy risk.

So airlines could decide to sell tickets for flights with or without security searches, sort of like their “refundable” vs. “non-refundable” options. My guess is that some of us would assume the risk and buy the cheaper tickets. I’ll bet there would be some empty center seats on those flights! And ample room for your AK-47 in the overhead compartment.

But I digress with my rant….

By now it was Friday night. One teen was off on her excursion. The other was heading to a friend’s house. Mistress and Slave had nothing on the schedule.

You can imagine what that meant.

The luxury of pre-dinner sex and then a nap…. After all, we had gotten up early!

Soon we were naked. Sliding against one another, me spooning against Mistress warm, firm bottom, a hand wiggling it’s way between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for me.

You know where this went, don’t you?

Later we had a picnic in front of out TV, and I got to introduce Mistress to an old, favorite movie, Nashville. Lot’s of great music and funny 70’s double-knit leisure suits.

She lay there next to me on the couch. No undies. Legs spread casually. The musky fragrance of her recently fucked cunt was a low level distraction for me. And it wasn’t long before my fingers couldn’t resist the temptation to probe and fondle.

So Mistress got her last orgasm of the evening that way, while listening to Henry Gibson and Ronee Blakely croon a country chestnut.

I’m not sure she liked the movie. But she did seem to like what my digital attention.

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.

Office Visit

Mistress stopped by my office yesterday between meetings in our not quite bustling downtown. I work near the top of a 90’s era office tower. My years of grinding away have earned me a corner office, with nice views overlooking our City and the River that runs past it.

On each side of me are less senior female employees in smaller offices. My assistant is just a few feet out the door, probably surfing the internet or chatting with friends on the phone, until I have the temerity to give her some real work to do.

I usually keep the door open, so my colleagues can feel free to share updates on the work we share, or talk about the latest coaching move for the local college football team. This is a career that has its challenges and fun, but on some days it can seem that the years have passed in a blur with the same clutter in the corner of my spacious confines that was there 10 years ago.

 Mistress’s visits in these last few months have upset that tedium in a profoundly pleasing way.

On this day she walked in unannounced, between her business meetings. She is well known here, and need not wait in the reception area to be announced – what sort of Mistress would held up by a gate-keeper?

She was looking particularly powerful: form fitting black dress ending a few inches above her knees. Long dark hair up for a little more business cred. Black tights to fight off the chilling December air, and black boots almost touching her knees.

She shared some details of her day as I rose to hug her. I closed the door and we kissed tentatively, me concerned about messing up her red lipstick. But she insisted on a “real” kiss, lipstick be damned, so we did as my hands explored her breasts through that black dress. (I guess I should have asked permission?)

I knew she was on a tight schedule, so as we broke the clench, and  I pulled the side chair against the door. My door has no lock, but a chair probably would slow the colleague or assistant who might be inclined to barge in with important news or today’s mail. She sat. I knelt before her, rubbing my face and mouth against the tops of her boots, then  the insides of her thighs, enjoying the friction of my skin against the fabric of her opaque black hose, before pressing my mouth and nose against her divine cunt, already betraying her arousal.

Sometimes Mistress will tie my hands behind me with a brown leather strap we keep in a drawer at the office for such occasions. But not today.

Maybe its time to mention that yesterday, like most work days, I was wearing my cock cage. And, as always, the key was back at home in a secure location. As I kneel there between Mistress’s spread legs, I know there is no point in even considering that Mistress might return the favor until later that evening. So there is an added, frustrating  edge to the service I will be performing, knowing that it is all about Mistress’s pleasure, as it should be.

After gorging myself on the delights of sucking Mistress’s juices through her tights and black panties, she sat up a bit and pulled them down to her boot tops, allowing her just enough  room to spread her firm, toned thighs to accommodate my mouth and tongue.

AS my face buried itself there, my senses took in her full taste and aroma, something that has become increasingly addictive as my submission to her has grown deeper. And my cock strained against the confines of its cage. Ouch.

There are two techniques the slave employees under these circumstances. Tongues and fingers work well in a roundabout path to building Mistress to a slow, powerful orgasm. Sucking on Mistress’s red, swollen and glistening clit is the more direct route, and its what I usually choose in my office, when we can hear my colleagues talking and passing by my door, only feet away. As we build to that moment, Mistress begins to squirm in the chair, her hips thrusting out to meet my mouth, her face reddening, eyes closing. Its always a mystery to me what goes through Mistress’s mind as she comes that way, head gently pushing against the door behind her. And I wonder if my office neighbors can hear her muffled groan or strained breathing, or the beat her head must make against that door,  as she reaches her crescendo.

Afterwards, I settle back onto my butt and rest as she recovers, before she stands to rearrange her disheveled cloths.

She kisses me again. Re-applies smeared lipstick. Shakes off the languor that might otherwise cloud her mind after a compelling sexual experience, and is ready for action again. She has another important business meeting and its time to move on.