24 Hour Embargo

First, I hope none of you are offended by the new “look” here at UCTMW. I got playing with the tools available in google-world and thought I would go for something a tad more readable. The key was  to find colors that complemented all those lovely photos of my Mistress’s hot body.

But the new background does have a strange way of giving the impression this is the home of Marge and Homer, not Molly and Mick. Let us know if it’s a turn-off.

 I suppose that for some of you lurkers our there, the dark look of our previous format may have triggered some sort of Pavlovian response after months of conditioning. If so, be patient, that instant response below the belt buckle, is sure to return after you get re-programmed by the new look.

I already received a thumbs up from our Western Correspondent, though I doubt he’s done his market research yet. He tends to shoot from the cock. (No disrespect intended, oh Master of my Mistress).

I also apologize for breaking our switch day into three blog parts. It seemed like I had lots of material to work with, and I am always mindful of my deadline: If I don’t get my daily entry posted by 7:45 am Eastern time, Slave’s window of opportunity to service my Mistress closes. And if that happens too often, my material could run dry.

So let me bring you up to date on our busy week here in River City…..

Monday on the ride home, Mistress was feeling rather playful. It sounds as if M had done a good job of getting her juices flowing with some snappy conversation and lusty text messaging focused on the prospects of an ultimate rendezvous. It may be that his fears of spontaneous human combustion are subsiding? Or has he arranged to have a local volunteer fire department on call?

And while there are no immediate plans for such an encounter, the opening window seemed to be priming Mistress to an unusual degree. She even snapped the photo above to send to M by text message on our ride home.

Once we got home, Mistress was more than happy to accept my offer of worship.

“But let’s share the moment with M too, Slave.”

I had no standing to object, as she took another shot with her I-Phone camera, of my sadly balding head, between her spread legs, as I was deploying  my well developed skills.

And when I was done, she handed me the camera to take a close up of that swollen red clit, poking out from between her lush, clean shaven lips. I’ll bet M did a double take when that juicy shot popped up on his cell phone.

But my own reward was deferred until later, after a bike ride in our smog infused, late summer air.

Yesterday, Mistress had some news to share with me.

“M and I have arranged for a date on Thursday morning. And this time his instructions are very clear ….. I can’t come for 24 hours before hand.”

I got the news as Mistress stopped by my office for some pre-lunch engagement worship. I considered this development as I knelt before her, helping her slide those tight black panties down her legs.

“Well that clears up any confusion Mistress. I take it he’s reviewed Sin’s blog on the subject of clarity in these matters.”

Last night, as we began to make love, I brought up the subject of her impending orgasm embargo again.

“How does it feel to have your orgasms managed, Mistress?”

“Well I must say it’s against my nature – I’m not used to being told what to do, but…..”

“But what, Mistress?”

“It’s pretty hot Slave….pretty hot….”

I went back over the rules with her….

“So I suppose Wednesday morning is our last chance then?”

“Yes Slave. That’s his order.”

“I’m betting by tomorrow evening you are going to feel a little antsy, Mistress.”

“I suppose….”

“And you won’t mind me teasing you a little, will you?”

The thought of it was starting to drive her a little crazy, That, and my finger strumming her clit.

“Oh, God….”

By now Mistress was retaliating: cupping my balls with her fingers as I fucked her from above. I was closer than my game plan called for at the moment. Considering whether it would be un-cool to ask for permission.

And just then, Mistress decided to turn the tables.

“Slave, I may want to get on top in a bit, so no coming. Just keep on fucking me…..”

She continued to taunt my balls with those well manicured nails.

And, of course, being told to keep fucking, but not come, had me tied in a perverse little knot.

I wanted to come. I wanted to beg. But I knew that Mistress on top would make for a very interesting ride.

But she was in no hurry.

Fuck.

So close.

But following orders, I was trying to think about the Glenn Beck curse on the Cardinals, anything to take the edge off my needy cock.

Finally she had mercy.

“Roll over, Slave.”

Ahhh.

“Of course, Mistress.”

She settled in for quite a few furlongs as she slowly rode me, remarking about how hard my cock was….. That's something a Slave always likes to hear, even though the odds were she might have been imagining riding a certain “special occasion cock” instead.

Whatever turns you on is fair game in my book.

The pressure for a quick release now off me, it was my turn to throw a little rhetorical fuel on the fire.

“Imagine how horny you will be Thursday morning, Mistress. After more than 24 hours without an orgasm.”

“I know Slave….I will be desperate.”

“I will have to test you before I leave. Run my fingers through your cunt in the shower, but not nearly hard enough to risk violating your obligations.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

Mistress was riding me harder now, but still pacing herself. She was building her parts to critical mass inexorably, preparing to go nuclear.

“And I wonder if he will make you beg for permission, Mistress….”

“That's what he did last week Slave….he made me beg.”

Hmmm. Something I had not gotten from her in that Friday night de-briefing.

“Oh really, Mistress….how did that feel.”

“It drove me crazy, Slave….I was so desperate….and it was so frustrating to have to wait.”

“Did you feel like his needy little slut, Mistress?”

It was about that time when the snappy patter gave way to Mistress focusing on that explosion she had been building to. All of her muscles tensing, a slow deep moan building in her lungs and roaring out of her mouth as she collapsed onto me.

By the time she rolled off, her cheeks were wet with her tears, her sobs were subsiding, and her body was limp and exhausted. And I was allowed to complete our rather dramatic session from above.

When she graciously gave me permission to come, my explosion came in a series of waves that had my own body tingling for the next 20 minutes or so.

Yikes.

It was smut-ergy of the highest order.

And since my deadline is now upon us, I’d better get upstairs before Mistress’s 24 hour embargo kicks in.

Switch Day: The Second Movement

Now that Mistress was awakened from her little beauty nap by the perverse curiosity of our Western Correspondent, it was time to spring my trap: a Switch Day reprise to make up for my deficiency the prior Sunday.

I had the locking black wrist cuffs at the ready,

As I rolled over to grab them at the side of the bed, Mistress knew something was up.

“What are you up to Slave?”

“Just making sure you got your Sub’s worth today, Slut!”

She put  some token resistance as I fastened the cuff to her left wrist, a but surprised, but seemingly more than game to reprise her morning role   as my little bound fuck-toy.

But she felt a need to share the moment.

“Let’s take a photo to let M know that he got this ball rolling, Slave.”

So I took a few seconds off from restraining Mistress, snapped the photo of her bound wrist,  and let her send the taunting message to M.

“I told him that he woke us up, and now you are forcing yourself on me, Slave.”

Then the chime on her phone was turned off. I was going to take all her attention for the next 30 minutes or so.

With her hands bound together, overhead, Mistress was sufficiently helpless. She was forced to endure my fondling, sucking, nipping and tongue thrusting until our chambers were redolent with the sweet and musky aroma of her arousal.

Yum.

That’ when I reached for the Hitachi, still on the floor, rested and ready from it’s morning maneuvers.

Mistress’s eyes widened. She liked what she saw. But with a little effort,  could I get her to consider it too much of a good thing?

That was the afternoon’s objective: test Mistress’s limits.

“Oh, goodie, bonus time with the power tool, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress. Do I recall you saying that you had three cums on your Friday morning date with M?”

“Uhhh…..yeah….”

“Well I don’t think my little weekend reclamation project will be done until I can at least match that…”

By now the Hitachi was churning away at  her, and with Mistress on her back, legs spread about as wide as she could split them, it was easy for me to zero in on my target, sort of like one of those cruise missiles screaming down the smoke stack of Saddam Hussein’s favorite Baghdad BBQ joint.

Her first detonation came within seconds, taking us both by surprise, her hips flying up off the bed to scrunch herself even harder against the white bulb of my deadly weapon.

“Oh my, that was a quickie, Mistress. I wonder how long it will take for two more?”

“Really….”

I let her come down for just a moment, before I renewed my assault, sliding the bulb hard against her swollen clit. She used all the clever evasive techniques at her disposal, but she could hardly move far with her hands tied  tightly above her head.

Within a minute of so she surrendered to the inevitable, moaning and squeezing the device tightly with her thighs. Maybe she thought she could crush the pesky thing, but then what would she use for her next date with M?

“That’s really enough Slave…..why don’t you fuck me now.”

Well, of course I was tempted. My cock had been ready for that since before the Hitachi had been armed and deployed. But I felt I still owed Mistress another one.

“Calm yourself, Mistress…one more and this special operation can move on to the looting and plundering stage.”

She resigned herself to her fate, and I used the tool to slowly bring her to the top again, watching her spill over the side into the thundering waters of another thrashing and moaning climax.

Mission accomplished, I thumbed the tool off, putting it aside for its next deployment.

Mistress was a bit out of it by now, her legs still tossing from side to side a bit, her lead lolling back against the bed. So I neither sought nor received permission to mount her. I simply took her.

Without complaint, I might add. Her cunt was oh so wet and open that it seemed to swallow me whole, with greedy delight,

I could see Mistress I-phone on the bed table. It shook a bit, presumably with the arrival of another message from M, his curiosity on high alert, looking for an update.

I could hear him at home, having dispatched his Icelandic Nemesis on the golf course: “What are those two crazies up to?”

I figured that, in due time, Mistress would thank him for that wake up call.

But he could wait just a bit longer.

.

Switch Day: Interlude

After Mistress was released from her restraints, and emerged from subspace, we went back to our post switch Sunday routines - grocery shopping, a bike ride, and then off to our neighborhood swim club.

I played bike mechanic, replacing the brake pads on Mistress's bike.I am a useful little Slave, aren't I.

When she came down for our ride she mentioned that M had called.

"I think he wanted to know if we did Switch Day, Slave....he likes to keep track."

I can understand that. A good cyber Master wants to make sure his Slave is well taken care of, particularly on switch day.

"Did you give him the details, Mistress?"

"I told him that we did some interesting switch stuff, Slave. And that he could read about it in the morning."

"You didn't tell him you got the spanking he ordered?"

"Uhhh....I guess not, Slave."

Later, at our swim club, Mistress mentioned that M had been texting her from the golf course, while matching birdies with his "Icelandic Nemesis." I figured I would give him a little tease. As Mistress was swimming her laps (she does work at keeping that ass and those legs shapely), I sent M my own text message.

"Your Slave got that good spanking."

and we traded a few choice ones:

"Good she needed one."

"Mistress responds well to the Hitachi when tied down."

"I'll bet she does."

When I read these and a few more to Mistress after she was done with her laps, she seemed a little .... flustered.

"Are you guys conspiring against me, Slave?"

Exactly.

Later that afternoon, we retreated home out of the smoggy, hot late summer air. The kids were out. I was planning a little switch redoux for Mistress, to make up for my default last Sunday.

But she was sleepy.

"Wake me before dinner, Slave."

And of course I never like to mess with Mistress's beauty rest.

But this is where I got an assist from my "wingman".

After Mistress had snoozed for about 20 minutes the chime on her I-phone went off. She stirred, picked it up. Then giggled.

"It's M. He says he hasn't heard from me in a while. wants to know if we're having sex."

It was just the little prod I needed.

Switch Day in Two Movements

Movement One.

It came out during our chat with ‘Nilla this week.

Mistress missed our switch day last Sunday.

I guess I have mistakenly assumed that switch day was something in the contract that gave me a day off.

Stupid Slave.

As ‘Nilla reminded me, being a Domme is hard work. Mistress looks forward to it as much, maybe more, than I do.

It’s a day for her to let go, give up command, lay back and enjoy. And maybe suffer a little too.

So I resolved to make it up to her this week.

And M had said that she deserved a good spanking. I promised to he his trusty surrogate.

And as it turns out, Mistress got her lost switch day back, with interest.

Yesterday morning, after I did my writing, and Mistress lolled in bed, I woke her around 8:30 or so.  We read the bad news in our morning paper, focusing on the nastiness in DC, where some Fox News refugees were doing their darn-dest to turn the Dream of 1963 into their own Nightmare.

But after Mistress read the blog (and a few others too), I  snapped on the little red cuffs, rolled Mistress on to her tummy, and fixed them overhead to the little eyebolt  screwed into the head of our bed.

After that, I used some strips of an old soft beach towel to tie her legs, spread wide, to the corners of or bed.

The little slut was going no where.

Mistress knew she was due for a spanking.

Her flippant attitude was saying “bring it on.”

But I was in no rush. I want her nice and juicy before she got what was coming to her.

So out came the Hitachi. I slid it under her, thumbed it on.

Uhhh…..oh goody….nice, Slave.”

She was humping it, as I stood up.

Of course I knew that it was just short of where she could get the purchase she needed for the type of climax she was already craving.

So I stood up, grabbed my camera and snapped off a few shots of her little kinky dance, as her ass danced and squirmed straining at her bonds, trying to capture the vibrating head against her clit, but failing so delightfully.

Her body seemed to be glowing with the dew of her frustration when I sat down next to her on the bed and abruptly pulled the Hitachi away, switching it off.

“That’s so unfair, Slave…..”

“But I know what you really want is that spanking….don’t you think M would be disappointed if you did not get one this morning?”

She growled at me in frustration, but conceded, “I suppose he would, Slave.”

That’s when I gave her the first of many, many slaps to that steamy ass. From the left side of the bed. From the right side of the bed. In flurries. Or one at a time.

At one point I heard one of the surly teens stirring in the hallway, so I got up to turn up the music a few notches, just to mask the sound of the slapping as I landed blow after blow on her ass.

But something was wrong.

Mistress was not complaining. There were no moans, No begging for me to stop. She was taking it and taking it. She was a glutton for whatever pain I was inflicting.

I wondered if my hands were not hard enough, so I picked up the  long wooden shoe horn that makes me squirm and moan into a pillow when she uses it on me.

I landed a flurry of what should have been stinging slaps with that sucker. And Mistress took them like a walk on the beach.

Apparently she has a much higher threshold of pain on her delicious fleshy bottom than my scraggly one can endure.

I made a mental note that I needed to press the edge of the envelope on this one.

But by now Slave was getting a little hornier, and I was getting a little paranoid about what Surly Teen #2 might be thinking her parents were up to in there with the music so loud.

So without any begging for mercy from Mistress, I surrendered to her amazing ability to  take a spanking, took a quick photo of her reddened ass, and settled down next to her on the bed.

“You are quite the little pain slut, aren’t you, Mistress?”

I was rubbing her bottom, an errant finger dipping between her cheeks, testing the very wet and steamy waters.

“Mmmmm…. “  She wriggled in contentment, her channel sopping cunt swallowing  my finger like a venus fly trap devouring an unsuspecting spider.

I don’t think that was a denial.

I picked up the Hitachi, thumbed it on.

“Let’s see how you take this Mistress.”

I forced it between her legs, set at high.

Oh she liked it all right.

Her body was stretching every which way to find the right way to press that churning tool where she needed it to be. But with her legs spread and bound, she could not grip it the way her throbbing clit demanded.

But I was no longer playing the cruel Master. I did what I could to help her along, thrusting the tool up and under her, searching for that spot.

And the payoff was a devastating explosion of twisiting limbs, straining against the fabric and leather binding her tight, torqued to the max as she rose up, rolled left to right, sobbing against the rich blue sheets.

And of course the binding allowed me to keep the wand exactly where she didn’t want it to be even as she came down, hips bucking,,,,

“No, Slave…..no more.”

It’s what I had not heard as I spanked her.

So in my perverse pleasure of finally hearing those protests, I kept it up, forcing another one from her before finally withdrawing the tool.

She was shuddering,  moaning a bit, But she wasn’t done.

“Oh, God,,,, please fuck me now, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”