Mistress Hits the Ground Running

Our readers will be – I think – happy to know that Mistress recovered quickly and quite wantonly from her 4 ½ hours in the saddle Sunday morning. While we mutually abstained Sunday, after those long bike and car rides, Mistress was more than game when I woke her to read the blog yesterday. She gladly accepted my devotions with lips and tongue, though I made sure that my attentions were gentle and therapeutic, not the more aggressive clit sucking that she sometimes enjoys.

And after a soothing orgasm, she spoke words that I always answer in the affirmative:

“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave?”

Later, as I was wading through an accumulation of paper on my desk, Mistress called to say she was stopping by to drop some papers off to a colleague.

“Would you like me to stop by, Slave?”

There is only one sane answer to that question.

Of course, Mistress.”

And once her errand was done, Mistress strode into my office, decked out in her black suit, bare legs and heels. She quickly assumed her throne for some midmorning worship. And her parts responded as you might expect, no worse for the weekend’s wear and tear.

On the drive home, Mistress reported on her chats with M during the day. They had not had the chance to talk on Sunday. So there was some mutual “after action” reporting to do about our rather depraved Saturday evening 3-way encounter.

“He says he was a little nervous about how my Slave might have reacted to it all.  Then, when he read the blog, he figured you were OK.”

“I think you know I was fine, Mistress. It was all pretty crazy, but very hot.”

“I told him that it was a little weird to be in the middle – worrying about making sure both of my men were enjoying themselves. I felt I had to make sure you were each getting equal attention.”

Yes, Mistress did quite a balancing act… Muttering endearments to me, while, over the phone, being very solicitous about the status of her “special occasion cock.”

“He said he knows what it’s like – when he’s had three ways, he always worries that one of his girls might feel that he is giving more attention to the other.”

Mistress laughed, eyes rolling. 

“He does have some wild and crazy stories, Slave….”

“Maybe we should make him sign a non-compete as our Western Correspondent. We don’t want to see him peddling those stories to some other blog, Mistress.”

“Not a bad idea, Slave.”

At home, our legs and the spitting rain told us that we could pass on our evening bike ride.

So we settled into bed for a little pre-dinner “rest” period. And of course, Mistress received some worship as she reviewed the comments made by our sub-sisters in response to Monday’s blog.

Sin’s questions about the contract got me thinking about when it was originally executed.  I found the original in my dresser drawer. As it turns out, the one year anniversary approaches at the end of the week .

There will certainly have to be a special anniversary edition of UCTMW to commemorate the occasion. Maybe I can call it a “collector’s edition” and double the newsstand price?

And yes, Sin, Mistress does have a great deal of leeway. She can share me with whomever she chooses. ‘Nilla certainly had that right. Her rights to me can be sold, leased  or assigned. (So far no bidders. Luckily the market for slaves is as slow as the real estate market, and I am probably way over priced and fully depreciated.)

And yes, Mistress has the right to acquire and train other subs, or to submit to a Master or two.

It’s All up to her.

How would I feel about that? It’s hard to anticipate, but Mistress is kind and merciful, as the little dialogue above shows. I am sure that if she ever felt the need to expand her stable, I would still be well taken care of here in the Collins’s household.

All this review, and  the latest episode of Mad Men,  had both of us “animated” by the time we retired to our chambers.

“Why don’t you insert your device, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

In bed, we kissed and canoodled a bit, with Mistress’s hands lingering on my hard and needy cock. Then I asked about her preferences.

“Would you like the Hitachi tonight, Mistress?”

“Hmmm…. I guess it’s been since Thursday.” (her date that morning with M). That might be nice Slave.”

Soon She was on her back, legs spread lasciviously. And I had the tool deployed, set on low, sliding it too and fro at the junction of those muscular, well exercised thighs.

She was very excited. Very. But soon began to complain.

“You’re frustrating me, Slave….. why do you do that?”

“I’m really not trying to Mistress… “

Well, I suppose I was taking a bit of the pressure off from time to time, sliding it off her sweet spot just a bit. I do like to see her squirm. What was the rush?

“No…there…”

Her hand was guiding me…. And I co-operated. Sort of.

“I guess it’s easier when you do it yourself…. When M is on the phone, instructing you where to put it….”

“Ahhh, yes…. It is Slave…. Right there.”

I decided I had made her squirm long enough, so took her cues, pressed firmly. And…

“Oh God ….. yes ….. AHHHHHHHH.”

Mistress hips launched themselves off the bed, she rolled to the right and the left, her thighs gripping the mighty little tool in a tight hug, her whole body coiled around the spot where machine and drippy little mound met.

Then she collapsed back onto the bed, lungs sucking in air through her sobs of relief.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

Is this where you came in?

“

Move Along. Nothing to See Here.

Some of you have been lobbying for some abstinence for poor, confused Mistress / Slave Molly.

Well yesterday, inadvertently I suppose. both Slave and Mistress abstained. It’s been a very long time, now that I think of it. A whole day off for both of us.

Our excuse: a very early rise for that 50 mile bike ride. Plus, Mistress’s parts had been excessively used and abused the night before, during and after our long “epic” episode of directed sex ,with M tied in by cell line from across Lake Michigan, acting as the ringmaster.

Come morning, neither one of us could pin down exactly how long we were engaged in those wanton rituals. And when we review the three photos I took at some point – Mistress rubbing her (still!) needy cunt after I left the bed oh so briefly for a piss and hydration – we were so “shocked, shocked” that they ended up as cyber trash. They were too smutty and revealing to even share with M.

At least that’s what Mistress thought.

So when she read yesterday morning’s blog, I did not even consider doing my typical morning worship.

Then it was up and out into the chill lakefront air for that 50 mile bike ride with 5000 other early risers. The event organizers surprised us with a route that seemed to find the only rolling hills in the region. After 4.5 hours in the saddle, we felt like we had accomplished our goal, but at a certain price. The price I paid was sore knees. Mistress had a rather itchy and even more tender tush, as I had predicted.

“I’m not sure I will have sex for several days, Slave!”

“I can understand that Mistress….”

Though I suspect things will be better by this evening.

There were some interesting sights along the way.

The photo above shows where Molly might want to start up her own business someday, should she ever get tired of spin-doctoring. ( And yes, there is a little Eastern European in her gene pool, to balance out the Spanish that gives her that amazingly lush and dark skin tone).

What she found particularly appealing about this business opportunity was that the place was already advertising the availability of “subs”. You may recall that my contract does allow her to acquire others and put me on the block at any time. That sort of trade might supplement income from polish sausage and bait.

At one point a female cyclist pumped past us with what might pass for cyclist fetish wear: short, tight black riding shorts, paired with black thigh high cycling “stockings”, allowing her to show about 4 inches of skin between her “stocking” tops and her shorts.

I had to comment.

“Hmmm. Mistress. Check that out. Pretty hot look!”

“Oh really…. I don’t know that I care for my slave making comments suggesting that other women look hot.”

Opps. I tried my best to back and fill.

“Well it wasn’t her per se that caught my eye, Mistress. I never really got a look at her. I’m saying the ‘look’ is hot… I’d like to see you in that outfit.”

“Good try, Slave.”

So, dear readers – is Slave in trouble? Do I deserve a punishment for calling Mistress’s attention to another woman in that way?

Is it proper for a Slave to let another woman – or in this case – her outfit, catch his eye and comment to his Mistress?

Is this a Jimmy Carter “lust in my heart” sort of moment? (Not a guy Id like to be compared to … I was a Teddy supporter back in 1980).

And is it particularly un-slave like, or just natural?

Let us know what you think.

Now it’s time for me to go upstairs to see how Mistress is recovering from all that tush abuse.

Riding

This has to  be a quick post. I have to wake Mistress at about 7 am. We are embarking on a 50 mile bike ride this am in the rather crisp wind -off -the -lake air here with 5000 or so other crazies.

And, picking up on Aisha’s blogs of the last 12 hours– I probably should be punished. 

I let myself fuck Mistress far too long last night, and now I know what’s going to happen:  overly tenderized female flesh, pressed against a bike seat -Particularly a cold weather bike seat – is going to be uncomfortable for her. Very uncomfortable.

In fairness to me – not that I deserve fairness – it’s not all my fault. M started it.

As we were preparing for bed around 10 pm, he texted Mistress, wondering if she was available for a call. And the text came with a photo of his hard cock.

“I have a feeling M wants a little more of that action from the other night, Slave.”

She considered not responding. Right. For about 10 seconds. Then she was asking for my cell phone with it’s clearer signal.

They chatted for a while. I was there on the bed next to her, laptop open, splitting my attention between their smutty little verbal foreplay and Aisha’s very hot fantasy about punishment at a school for Subs and Doms. (I can imagine the tables turning with male subs being taught how to use their own tongues and lips better, Aisha).

But soon it was hard to resist fully engaging with Mistress’s squirming cunt.

“He’s down there again, M …. And I didn’t even have to ask this time.”

“Slave, M wants you to ‘stick my finger up my little asshole’… those are his exact words.”

Naturally, I complied.  And very quickly Mistress was moaning to her first orgasm, making sure M knew all about it.

The rest was a long and epic blur.

At one point, she is fondling my cock, sucking it, but also telling M….”This is exactly what I like, one hard cock in my hand, another hard one on the phone.”

She rode me to orgasm, filling M in on the details. And at some point, did that all over again.

I fucked her, rested, fucked her some more. All the while she was very curious about how M’s cock was doing.

It seemed to be doing well.

I was flattered when Mistress murmured into the phone, “I love it when my slave fuck’s me, M.”

And I had no problem when she pouted a bit about how she would like M to be doing the fucking some day. Or called him “Master” in that husky wanton voice that seemed quite desperate for both of us.

At one point I left the bed to visit the bathroom, and get a drink of water. Hydration was becoming an issue. When I came back, Mistress was vigorously rubbing herself to yet another orgasm. I took a few photos, and will make sure M gets a choice one to see what his compelling words wrought.

Was it hours by the time we were done? I just recall Mistress signing off at some point, exhausted…. But letting me fuck her some more, before giving me clearance to come.

Epic, M. Epic.

But now I have the sad task of waking sleeping beauty, and reminding her that she has 50 miles to ride…. That is gonna be one sore tush at the end of the day.

House Guests

The surly teens suffered through their campus visit yesterday. Their primary factor in deciding whether a particular college gets thumbs up or down appears to be the presence or absence of a Chipotle.

This lovely campus apparently failed that test.

Afterwards, we hit the highway to our next stop: The summer home of Molly’s in-laws near the banks of one of those great lakes.

We had assumed that the sleeping situation would put us in close proximity to the teens, so planned on a vanilla weekend. I did not even bring any implements of bondage or torture for Switch Day (oops, there go our stat counts for Monday).

But instead we ended up in this sumptuous suite apart from the rest of the house, with a huge four-poster bed. My kingdom for some clothesline!

But, fear not, we were able to have some delicious post sort-of-three way sex yesterday morning, in that old campus mansion, while the teens slept in before their tour.

As Mistress read the blog, her Slave worshipped, kneeling on the floor to get the proper leverage. But…the poor dear was rather tender from all that abuse the night before.

“Owww…. Be more gentle Slave….”

I stopped sucking clit between my lips, and reverted to a softer laving with my tongue. That seemed to do the trick.

And, once given permission to fuck her, I used it as an opportunity to do some cross-examination about her college days’ encounters with her Journalism Prof.

“So who made the first move, Mistress?”

“I suppose he did…. We were spending a lot of time together …. In class. Working on the school paper… and I was in his office ….. and he just kissed me.”

I imagined Mistress, young, passionate, those long tan legs. Relatively innocent, but clearly open, even at 19, to a little adventure. Once she turned on the charm, gave that little signal of availability, this guy would not have had a chance, just like me back in the days of Mike Dukakis and Dan Quayle.

“Did he ask for permission to kiss you?”

“I don’t remember that… it was just one of those moments.”

“And was it hot, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave…. He was a kittle quirky, but he was smart…. The older guy who seemed kind of cool.”

“And did you do it then with him?”

All the while, Slave is sliding in and out and against Mistress, listening to her little moans of delight as I take her down memory lane, early 80’s edition.

“No… it was a few days, maybe a week or two later.”

Good… patience. Planning. Anticipation. I imagined how hot both of them would be once they found each other in private again.

“And where did you do it?”

“In his office…. I remember that when he closed his door, there were all these academic robes hanging there… for graduation I guess. A weird thing to remember….”

“Did you do it on the floor? On his desk?”

“No… he had a couch.”

“Hmmm… How convenient.”

“And did he lick your cunt like I do, Mistress?”

“I don’t remember that… not as many men are into that the way you are, Slave.”

I guess it’s good to have a unique skill set in this tough economy.

“Did he like it when you sucked his cock, Mistress?”

“I am pretty sure he did Slave….”

Mistress must have developed those skills early on.

At this point the story line got lost …. Soon I was begging for permission to come, and Mistress was in a charitable state of mind.

Later, as we walked around the campus, Mistress pointed out to me the building where her illicit shenanigans had occurred. And she looked through the faculty roster. Her old Journalism Prof seems to have moved on. I wondered whether his “dabbling into female students” ( as a certain whacko Senate candidate might put it) had caught up with him.

The sort of behavior that was commonly winked at prior to 1985, one of the fringe benefits of academia, has long since become grounds for termination on U.S. campuses.

“Did you feel he had exploited you, Mistress? In retrospect was this sexual harassment?”

She laughed.

“No Slave…. I had a boyfriend who was pretty nasty to me at the time…. This was a nice outlet… it was fun. It made me feel good. ”

Mistress told me that he and the Prof “did it” a few times. He was married. She had the boyfriend. There were no expectations, she says. And she could not recall why they drifted apart.

Of course, I wonder how I would feel if my own daughter got caught up in this sort of teacher / student romance. Now that I think of it, I know exactly how I would feel. Pissed. Demanding retribution.

But sometimes a parent has to let go. Kids need to learn from their own experiences and make their own mistakes. For Molly this did not seem to be a mistake at all. But I am curious to know what some of you out there think about it.

Changing subjects….

Yesterday, Sin and Aisha wondered how Molly could handle the conflicting roles of sub / Mistress in our 3M sex-capade Thursday evening.

It seemed confusing but rather incendiary for her.

She had trouble with titles. Was the guy on the phone whispering who knows what into her ears, “Sir” or “M”? Was I “Slave” or “Mick”?

It seemed at some times I was her Slave … responding to commands about when to lick or fuck her. Then again, in her mind I may have been M’s surrogate, taking her in the way M was describing how he would take her.

And then, later, I was doing things that M had her tell me to do …. Like slide a finger into her little tight hole while the other one was impaled by my cock.

It was all very befuddling for poor Molly. And her orgasms kept on coming. Yikes.

The best comparison I can make is crossed jumper cables. If you mistakenly hook the red cable attached to one car battery’s positive knob to the negative knob on the other car’s battery ---- oops. Stand back and watch the sparks fly.

Mistress’s poles got crossed the other night and it was a wild and crazy thing to behold.