On the 366th Day...

The blogger drove his 2o something daughter to the airport at 4 am. It was amazing that she surprised me with her visit for the big birthday....

But by the time I got home, around 6:15 am, I was more inclined to crawl back into bed with my warm, sleeping Mistress than devote my self to my "craft"... will catch up with you tomorrow, dear readers.

One Year of Molly and Mick.... Want More?

UCTMW ENTERPRISES, LLC

River City, U.S.A.

                                                MEMOROANDUM

 To: Our Readers on the Occasion of Our First Anniversary

From: Mick Collins, Executive Editor

Yeah. It is old Mick’s Birthday today. One that may require a re-write of our little intro at the top of the page. Gulp.

But more importantly, it’s the anniversary of our first posting here at UCTMW. Here is a link to that first posting. Election Day 2009

A full year of our adventures, reported for those of you who take a few moments of your day to catch up with us, or ogle the luscious bod of my beloved Mistress.

This venture started out modestly …. I had been writing little daily  lurid love letters to Mistress as a way to show my devotion and squelch her insecurities.  We had signed our contract about a month earlier.  The Contract gave her license to explore interests she might have in other men.  At the time she was kindling her first little flirtation: with E, an old college fuck buddy who had popped up all horny and assertive in her inbox one day.

But as the words piled up we realized that my little love letters might find an audience. 

Of course why we would want an audience for the most intimate aspects of our lives is another question, isn’t it?

I’ve posted below one of those early emails… from the week before the blog started. As you can tell, the style has changed a bit. To broaden things a bit to the notion of having an “audience” of more than one, my entries are longer addressed to Mistress. Though maybe that’s a style I need to revisit from time to time.

Of course, we had no idea whether we would find an audience. But now, reviewing our “stats”, it seems  we are building a pervy corps of followers:

About 620 average page views per day, and growing month to month.

About 370 unique visitors every day.

About 80 or so repeat followers.

The U.S. remains our biggest audience. But (in descending order of frequency) there are those of you checking in with us from the U.K, Germany, Canada, Sweden, Italy, Brazil, Denmark, Turkey, Australia. And little dots on the map show visits from even more exotic locales.

It’s hard to imagine that there are folks so far afield checking on in us – or checking out Molly .  But welcome!  We love hearing from you.

And of course, the best and least anticipated part is the community we have built among some of you along the way.

E turned out to be a pretender, and did not stay with us long. He was replaced by some potential suitors for Mistress, her “starter Dom”, Sir M, then, the other M who evolved from blog reader, to email pal,  to our Western Correspondent, a man of few written words but a voice that turns Molly all squirmy. And the special occasion cock she yearns for still.

And  we have also collected a lovely bunch of comment makers along the way – particularly the “sub sisters” – ‘Nilla, Aisha, Sin, SFP. It’s been great fun to connect with all of you.  And to meet Aisha and her D just last weekend. Let’s hope there will be more meetings with several of you in the future.

But the corp purpose of the blog is focused on my lovely Mistress Molly: It’s my way of showing my devotion to her… it’s my little gift every morning …. A window into my normally opaque Irish guy brain.

As long as she continues to find it amusing I plan to keep it up.

So, here is a little piece from our vault, written to Molly on November, 9, 2009, shortly before UCTMW was born:

Coming home to you after a day on the road, all caged up and wondering what you were up to...it was particularly nice to sink down to my knees, pull down those riding tights and bury my face in your cunt. Your juices and scent are more addicting than ever. And the grip of your thighs around my head as you moan is the best end of the work day hug I can imagine. I must have done an adequate job, because you unlocked and fondled me a bit before we went for our ride under the full moon.

After our ride, when we were cooking, I came at you from behind, griping you tightly with a hand across your chest, then sliding my other hand into your pants making you squirm while whispering in your ear to consider what it would be like on your first meeting with E to have his hand buried there. That got me wondering to myself how quickly you would come for him just like that - my guess is very quickly, after all that pent up expectation. But I didn't let you come there on the kitchen floor, tho I know you were seconds away.

After dinner with our surly teens,  it seemed we raced through the clean up to get upstairs. You had asked for a spanking, no doubt because E had kindled that desire in your talk with him in the am.

Just could not wait until Sunday, could you? I know you want to feel his hand on your oh so firm, yet velvety soft bottom. But for the time being, at least, its still  all mine. Its my duty to you to fulfill your desires, even if they are for him to spank you.

Not very slave like for me to tie your hands together, then pull out the chair and drape you over my knee. Those sexy violet undies you had on barely covered your cheeks. You settled there so compliantly, head hanging down, barely moving. I could tell you were fantasizing about E and the feeling you will have someday when he lays you across his lap. You were in the zone I get in sometimes when you restrain me, mistress.

I had turned on music so the girls could not hear the crisp sound of my hand slapping your butt. You took your medicine well, tho I suspect I did not apply the same force that E is likely to apply, as he tries to break you into complete, total moaning submission to him.

What I did notice is how nicely you squirmed and how wet you were after just a few spanks. So I had to take some time to work my fingers into you and bring you to the brink before the spanking resumed.

After about 15 minutes of that I pulled you to the bed. You had promised to reward me, but you demanded that I make you come with my fingers first. So I laid you on the bed, hands still tied and we talked and kissed as I slowly brought you off, making you ask permission as if I was your new master and not your slave.

When you had your fill, I untied you and it was time for what I had requested to help me deal with my feelings about your infatuation with E.. What I needed was your reminder of how wonderful complete and total submission to your desires and control is. And you do that best with your strap on mistress. You took me firmly and hard from behind. I almost came against the bed, which would have been a first, as you drove into me. And your own climax as you thrust behind me was loud and frantic. I like that your doing me that way has such a wonderful impact on you, mistress.

When I finally had permission to fuck you, I asked you to imagine what it would be like to have E inside you then and there, and to do again what he surely will ask - beg for the privilege to come for him. And you did. And I agreed (on his behalf).

Kind of amazing where this is heading. off the tracks crazy, but oh so memorable.”

Thanks to those of you in the Blog-O-sphere for following our adventures! More to come….

Mick Collins, Executive Editor.

Cheap Trick

So this is what a blogger who procrastinates ends up doing as a substitute for pith, humour and insight:

Posts an alluring photo of his Mistress, in repose, after a recent switch day enterprise.

I know some of you out there will have no complaints.

For the rest of our fans, I can only offer this excuse. I slept in a little later than normal. Mistress woke up a little earlier than normal. So just as I was opening a blank word document to begin my a.m. musings, after perusing a variety of my colleagues' postings .... duty called....

"Slave... get up here!"

"Yes, Mistress."

Tomorrow is a big day here in Molly and Mick land, and I promise to do much better.

Have a great Saturday.

Remnants

So what little visual or aural remnants are left from the sights and sounds of our Saturday evening adventure with Aisha and D?

More than just a few:

The sound of thwacks, moans, cries of anguish in a 360 degree quadraphonic arc as Mistress and I sat watching D wrap his web of ropes around Aisha before suspending her. All very distracting, and some a little disturbing too.

The strange, unanticipated costumes. Who knew that women would get a buzz out of   dressing up as “sweet” little girls, all pig tailed and dressed in short little see through “nighties”, watching their peers get whacked while sucking their thumbs?  That was a kink I have overlooked.

The full sized coffin,  sitting in a corner.

“Do you think they rented the place out for a wake earlier today, and they forgot the guest of honor?” I asked Mistress.

D explained that some folks are into “coffin play”.

I think I’ll save that experience for much later. 

Actually, I  opt for cremation.

Wonder if anyone has a fetish revolving around that?

D warned us to be careful not to invade other folks’ play space, and we were careful to keep our distance.

(BTW, Aisha, I think D enjoyed being very directive when it came to Mistress following dungeon protocol.  “Molly, Don’t point!” he corrected her in that dom-ly voice.  I suspect it made her sub side perk up and take notice, but who’s to say?)

But sometimes our “voyeur’ space was invaded by kinksters intent on their own play.

As we were sitting along a wall – not exactly minding our own business – but clearly fixed and stationary, a man and a woman, both fully dressed in street attire, hauled a rather full figured woman - dressed in fishnet hose and nothing more - up to a post right next to us. They bound her face forward, hands around the post, then proceeded to wale away at her with palms and paddles.

It seemed they were mo more than 2 feet away.

Hard not to stare, at those bouncing tits and huge ass, but then monitoring D’s progress in trussing up Aisha so skillfully, then sending her into flight was much more … rewarding.

“I’m a little afraid I might get smothered by those giant breasts, Mistress.”

She just laughed, trying to ignore the somewhat exaggerated cries of anguish, or the perverse delight in the eyes of the fellow doing the thwacking with a rather theatrical swagger.

Would it be rude to just stand up and walk away from all that vibrating flesh?

No matter, we stood and moved a little closer to D and Aisha putting on their  far more loving demonstration.

In the days that followed Mistress and I have had plenty of time to absorb and discuss our little expedition.

Was it interesting? 

Of course.

Was it educational?

Certainly gave us some new ideas.

Was it  amazing to see first hand the magic that D and Aisha create and that she describes so cunningly in her blog?

Absolutely. 

Was it a turn on?

Well …. That’s the funny part.

I think we both learned that watching other folks enmeshed in their own kinky scenes was not really a sexy turn on for either one of us.  Though I was all caged up, I had no problem keeping my cock under control. (I guess that’s the ultimate test, isn’t it? The “Youch” factor.)

We are more participants than watchers. And, as our readers have probably noticed,   our interests trend  more in the direction of sex than pain.

Does that make us weenies? 

Could be. Or maybe we are just more into sex.

So…. Does that mean we are disinclined to make a return trip?

Uhhh. No.

I can see the turn on in stepping out of the audience and becoming a more active participant.

I did like the part of Mistress leading me about in my collar and leash.

And I think she enjoyed flexing her Domme in public.

And what if she took it a step farther: lashed me to one of those St. Andrews’s crosses, arms above my head, feet spread.  A crop in her hand. Her hands teasing and tormenting me. With an audience egging her on, giving her pointers. I would be pulling on those implacable bonds, but unable to escape.

The “youch” factor would definitely come into play.

(Mistress asked the other day why they call it a St. Andrews’s cross. I deployed my primitive Catholic school education and described it as an alternative crucifiction device that one of the minor saints made infamous. Though maybe it was just bad carpentry. You can see the derivation here:)

And what if, after Midnight, with the advent of our Switch Day, Slave turned the tables, and I put Mistress up on that cross.

My Ingredients: A flogger. A feather. My palm. Her Hitachi. An extension cord.

How many of you would enjoy watching that?