Thanks-Ticipation

First… let’s talk a bit about our day yesterday….

We don’t mean to bore you, dear readers. But it was a yet another busy workday in which Molly and Mick found time to indulge, as we are want to do.

Morning sex… a little earlier than normal, because Surly teen #1 got back from her class trip to our nation’s capitol at about 5:30 am. She immediately went to bed, but we were up ….so … Well …. you know.

Then there was time for a hearty bike ride on what may have been the last balmy morning in River City for the foreseeable future.

We had lunch with a friend who was one of the clobbered Democratic candidates for public office back in our sad, formerly blue, now red as Mistress’s nail polish state.

Our candidate was filled with denial about his ignominious defeat. After listening to him blame everyone but himself, we had to perk ourselves up with some worship back in my office.

For the occasion, Mistress had worn her peek-aboo black tights, under some up to the knee black boots.

“When I was walking over to meet you for lunch, I could feel myself poking out a bit, Slave….”

“That must be… interesting … Mistress. “

I wonder if guys on the street have the same nose for her arousal as I do. If so, “I pity the fools”, to paraphrase a famous ‘70’s era philosopher.

Mistress could simply sit in her throne and spread her legs for me.. No cumbersome unpeeling required. And, sure enough, there were those pink, puffy lips all engorged and ready for attention.

But first, a photo. I knelt from about 5 feet away, and snapped. Then texted it off to our Western Correspondent, with the caption “Office Visit”.

Then I did what a good Slave does, before sending Mistress back to her office with a chaste kiss out in our lobby. I speculated about what my office mates think about all these brief visits from my darling wife. Maybe that we are planning a kitchen remodel and picking out fixtures on the internet?


Later I was in a conference with a client when my text message chime went off. I assumed it was Mistress, and hated to delay a response, but I had to ignore it until my meeting was complete. But when I flipped my phone open, I realized it was from M.

“ Ha Ha. U too lunatics have more sex than any married couple in America.”

I had to respond:

“It depends on how you define sex.”

After all, M has been telling Mistress about his 3 (or more) a day regime, though sometimes those are solo acts. At my age, it’s more typically 2 a day, but then I am not allowed any unauthorized touching. Soon I got my response:

“Don’t go all Bill Clinton on me, Mick”.

Don’t worry, M. I’m not much on cigars in mixed company.

It turns out, Mistress and M had their own dialog about her little office call yesterday. I heard about it on our drive home.

“I told him I was a good wife and came over to let you worship me, Slave.”

“And what did he say, Mistress?”

“He laughed at me…. Said ‘let me get this straight…. You get your clit sucked and that’s his reward?”

“I guess he’s not one for deferred gratification, Mistress.”

At home we realized that the teens had already begun their Thanksgiving break…. Surly #1 was already on sabbatical for the night with her boyfriend, and #2 was squirreled away in her bedroom, acting grumpy and saying she had no plans to eat with her boring parents.

Go ahead twist our arms, sweety.

So we headed off to our chambers for some pre-dinner amusement. Mistress allowed me to worship her through those sexy tights yet again. Then peeled them off before mounting me.

“I do like to ride my cock, Slave.”

“And it enjoys being ridden, Mistress.”

We settled into an evening then of a picnic in front of the TV (catching up on Dexter) and an early bedtime, reading, cuddled against one another.

“We are in a very good place these days, Slave…. A lot better than Thanksgiving 2008.”

It’s very true. That was a bad time for us…. Still living in two cities, groping our way through Slave’s ugly misbehavior. We’ve traveled far and found ourselves much closer, much more open and honest with one another.

It’s been very nice to rediscover what brought us together more than 20 years ago.

So that’s what Slave has to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

That may just get us through the next 36 hours, as we play host to a mismatched group of expanded family members for Thanksgiving.

As we took inventory of our 20 something guest list, we realized that we were burdened with the demanding, grumpy, arrogant, mean and self-absorbed members of the family, without the leavening of the cute, gregarious or generous ones.

Sure, the surly teens will be here, but you can bet they will find a way to conceal their presence from the masses until the turkey is carved.

And my older daughters and the cute grandsons are obliged to be elsewhere, at her Mom’s house, as the rotation protocol demands.


So who’s left?

There will be my sister-in-law, who is such a pure feminist that it is beneath her to help clear the table once all the meals are consumed. Sadly, the guy who made these occasions in the past, my gregarious “straw that stirs the drink” brother, died 4 years ago in this season. His absence continues to cast a pall over these types of obligatory family set-pieces.


There will be my stooped Mother, who will be complaining about the weather and her condo fees, and will take offense between cigarette breaks when folks pass up her store bought pies for the homemade ones that Molly’s Mom will bring.

There will be Molly’s Sister and her supercilious Husband, who is already complaining about when we plan to serve dinner (too early) and that we won’t allow her to bring her “cute” little dog. (Lest all the other dog owners insist on bringing there own). I’ve prclained it a “dog free zone” to much grumbling.

There will be my reclusive sister, and her strange, live-in, Civil War re-enactor boyfriend. Unless they cancel at the last minute. There is at least a 50% chance of that.

And then there is Molly’s Step-sister, her know-it-all Physician Husband, and their three “perfect” sons.

So what should we do to get through this gauntlet of downers?

Hitachi breaks for Mistress every 30 minutes?

Should Slave wear his cage?

With or without the butt plug?

Maybe a Conference call with M between the Bird and dessert? (Though I’m sure he has his own family to entertain. Hopefully it’s a more fun group than ours.)

Any of your ideas could be of great assistance.

But what will get us through this min-melodrama will be the anticipation that around 7:30 pm the band of mis-fits will all know it’s time to leave, and after the gargantuan clean-up, we will go to bed early, then get up the next morning for a 5 day retreat to our SW hideaway …. Without the surly teens.

That’s another thing to be thankful for…..

Our Toy Collection

Finally had the chance over the weekend to dump our toy collection on the bed and rise to the challenge from SFP and Sin last week.

Of course there are a few things missing, as I realized after I shot the photo and put our collection back in the bags and drawers where they languish between use: my cock cage was on me at the moment. (Mistress had me wear it Saturday when I went down to rake leaves at a rental property we own; it’s a helpful reminder to me to “behave”, and some extra security for her too.) The Hitachi was parked under the bed, all ready for the date Mistress would have later that afternoon with our Western Correspondent. And Now I remember another batch of items that have not been put to use in a while – an obsolete vibe or two muscled aside by Mistress’s preferred power tool of the moment.  But you get the picture.  There are lots of goodies useful for the restraint and discipline of a recalcitrant Slave.

And I was reminded that those nipple clips had not been put to good use in a few months.  Maybe next Sunday?

Yesterday Mistress made an amusing revelation when she came to my office for worship.

She was sitting on her throne – a chair pressed against the door with a thick soft blanket underneath to absorb all those juices we create – and sliding off her clingy black trousers (only one leg really, enough to give me access to her slick and fragrant folds).

“M said he loved the blog this morning, Slave…. And the photos…well….”

“Yes, Mistress?”

I was on my knees now, ready to “dig in”. I confess: I am an addict, and the font of my addiction was right there in front of me now, taunting. I wasn’t too intent on a lengthy conversation. But my curiosity was piqied.

“Well he said that he blew those photos up on his computer and …. You know….”

I laughed.

“Got himself off?”

“Yes Slave… that’s what he says….”

“Impressive Mistress…. How does that make you feel? The thought of him focusing on that delightful ass of yours while taking the special occasion cock for a little joy ride?”

By now I was grazing a bit, letting my tongue slide over that moist clean shaven skin, provoking her little pink clit, that would soon be gripped possessively between my needy lips.

“It’s pretty hot, Slave….”

No doubt.

I could tell Mistress’s mind was mulling over that scenario as I began to assault her in earnest with tongue and lips, pulling at her clit now, her hips rising as I suctioned it out of it’s little hiding place. 

“Do you think other men  …. Our readers … do the same thing when they see those photos of you, Mistress…. All vulnerable and aroused?”

Her eyes were squeezed shut, her hands were grabbing at my hair (the little of it left) her thighs squeezing my head….and then she was coming for me, stifling her moan so as not to alert my colleagues outside in the hallway about what their graying, sober compadre and his delicious young wife were up to now.

Afterwards, as Mistress was tidying up, she gave me a little more details on M’s photographic preferences.

“He said he liked that one with you gripping my hand, Slave…. With my bottom all ready to be spanked.”

“I’m sure he did, Mistress….”

“He mentioned my nails …. ‘you really have nice ones” he said.”

She does… lots of maintenance makes for nice nails, and other yummy body parts too.

“And he mentioned that you must have given me a hard spanking for a change, because my bottom was so red.”

“I’m glad our Western Correspondent appreciates my effort to follow those instructions, Mistress.”

AS she left to return for work, we returned to the question I had posed earlier: are there other guys out there who “get off” on Mistress’s lovely body parts? And which are their favorites? It would be nice to hear.

“You know, Mistress, there could be women out there who delight in those photos too?”

“I guess that’s possible, Slave.”

Would it be interesting to hear from Mistress’s male (or female) admirers?

Could be.

Consumer Research

UCTMW ENTERPRISES, LLC
MEMORANDUM

From: Mick Collins, Executive Editor
To: M, Western Correspondent

Re: Result of Consumer Research on your “Instructions”

While the experience is still fresh in my mind, I wanted to report back on my efforts to utilize your helpful instructions on the proper spanking of a recalcitrant female.

As you know, our publication often likes to publish little “how to do” articles that our readers might find compelling and useful in their work-a-day lives.

Of course this is hardly an original idea. Lame-stream media outlets like the New York Times frequently publish recipes to use for posh holiday gatherings, and even cocktail recipes. One of our more comparable competitors, SFP, through her blogging empire sometimes posts handy “how to do” articles, like the one on how to makes a spreader bar from materials available at Home Depot. And you will surely recall how Aisha did a consumer review article on the higher and better uses of Risotto Spoons.

So, after we were surprised to see your article on “spanking methodology” pop up in the in-box that we reserve for you --- I could barely see it at first amidst the cob webs – I figured that our readers would love this helpful guide.

But first some quality control. Before we could give your procedure the coveted “UCTMW Seal of Approval”, we needed to do some consumer testing and take some illustrative photos.

Fortunately, it was Switch Day here at the corporate headquarters in River City, so our revered publisher, Molly Collins, could be compelled into serving as the test pilot in this experiment.

After Molly had read the morning papers a bit, I called her attention to the chair I had brought up from the dining room.

“Why do I have to be the sacrificial lamb on this one, Slave,” she whined. “I’ll bet one of the sub-sisters would be happy to volunteer.”

“I know, Mistress. But remember you chopped the travel budget in our latest austerity measures.”

Times are tough in the publishing world these days. And we don’t want to have to sell out to Ruppert Murdoch. The next thing you know you’d be seeing shots of Sarah Palin getting her bottom paddled.

Mistress agreed to be the subject of our little demonstration. But, as you might expect, getting her full co-operation was not an easy task. There’s a reason she’s the Publisher here and I am the lowly Executive Editor.

“Ok… first thing: take off that lovely black nighty, Mistress. You are supposed to be nude.”

“Huh…. Why? I don’t remember that part….”

I re-read the instructions to her, and she agreed, reluctantly, pulling off her soft black nighty to reveal that lovely, shapely body that has drawn so many page views to UCTMW in the last year.

“Now for your inspection.”

I was sitting on the chair. She was positioned in front of me. My fingers slid up the inside of her well conditioned thighs, exploring the path that I know well, dipping into her clean shaven folds.

“Wet already, Mistress? Our WC will be pleased to hear that this part of his instructions seem to have some appeal.”

She just gave me a snooty little sigh. But her slight undulations suggested that drawing your name into the conversation had a certain helpful effect.

I used my palms to rotate her around, giving me a close-up of her firm, rounded bottom. And my fingers slid between her legs, probing a bit, making her squirm as I invaded her virgin ass.

“I’m sure he likes the thought that you’ve saved this for his special occasion cock, Mistress.”

That seemed to make her ass tighten it’s firm grip on my invading digit.

We were ready to proceed with our demonstration.

"Okay, Mistress time to assume your position". I pulled her down, onto my lap.

It took us a while to get her oriented in the right way. My right leg over her left leg. Her right hand gripped by my left hand. Her bottom open and accessible to me. And before I got started I snapped this illustration to help our readers when they conduct this little exercise in the privacy of their own bedrooms … or dungeons, as the case may be.

Then I proceeded to thwack away with an open palm.

I had music on the mask the sound of flesh hitting flesh, since Surly Teen # 2 was in the house.

Mistress squirmed and wriggled as you would expect. But your instructions worked excellently. With her leg under mine and my hand gripping hers, she was going no-where.

The only problem was the chair. Mistress was clearly worried about her precarious balance, and the risk that she might slide off onto the floor.

Now maybe this is a good thing, making what is supposed to be an uncomfortable position all the less comfortable.

But Mistress can whine. And whine she did.

“I’m afraid I’m going slide off the chair, Slave.”

It may take a stronger more compelling Dom to take charge and get the subject of this exercise to suck it up and take her medicine, even if the is afraid she might slide onto the floor.

To that extent, this Executive Editor may not have been the best person to conduct our little experiment. I am wondering if some of our readers can persuade their Dom’s to follow your prescription to more … compelling effect.

Or maybe if our travel budget gets restored in the coming year, you can demonstrate yourself.

So after about 20-30 good strokes, and a good deal of Mistress squirming and whining, I succumbed before we got to the all important “begging and pleading” phase of the proceedings.

Maybe a wider, deeper chair would work better. Will have to keep a look out for that type of furnishing.

But I felt that Mistress deserved a little additional punishment for her failure to complete our mission.

She was positioned on our bed. Her hands were bound behind her with those leather handcuffs we bought on San Francisco years ago. And I picked up that long shoehorn.

The result from the combination of spanking and the shoehorn was a very nice rosey ass, as shown below:


Now I could have concluded the experiment there. Mistress was squirming delightfully against the bed as I took a slow taunting pace with the shoe horn. At one point I slid onto her my firm cock poking its way between those sheets. The moaning that induced was delicious for an Executive Editor's ears.

But it seemed despite all those orgasms on Saturday, Mistress’s participation in our little demonstration deserved a reward.

That’s when I reached for the Hitachi. Somehow it had survived your lengthy Saturday evening conference call.

As I flicked it on, Mistress gave off a little anticipatory shudder, and spread her legs as I slid it between her ass cheeks.

The rest is subject to an Executive Privilege.

Any input on how we could have done this consumer research more effectively will be appreciated.

Some Helpful Guidance from Our Western Correspondent

If there was day when Mistress deserves some orgasm denial  for her Switch Day, it is surely this one.

In the morning, Mistress was lavished with her usual therapy – her Slave’s tongue, and then, after she read my homework and ‘Nilla’s clever blog about that fetching “fictional” Domme, Slave’s firm “work-a-day”  cock.

At least a few orgasms were to be had there, before our morning bike ride

Then in the afternoon, after various mundane tasks were completed, Mistress ordered me upstairs.

“It’s that time Slave…. Get out my supplies.”

She meant her strap on and lubricant.

It had been a few weeks, and Slave was probably due.

But beforehand, Mistress said I probably also needed some cropping.

“But it’s hard for me to come up with a good excuse Slave….you’ve been pretty good lately.”

Of course I take pride in that, but….

Mistress had retrieved a very whippy crop from our closet. She was thwacking it a bit against her palm. Measuring it’s weight.

“Ok…. How about your rant this morning, when [Surly Teen #2] took your car and didn’t tell you….”

“But I needed those leaf bags in the trunk, Mistress.”

“I don’t like rants, Slave….

Thwack.  Ouch.  That stung.

“Will you do it again?”

“No… Mistress.”

Thwack.

“Liar….”

The blows rained down. And of course, Mistress was right. I probably would do it again.

By the time she was done, my bottom was very sore.  And she snapped a shot to transmit to M, and to sahre with all of you. You can see it on yesterday’s preview.

All of this got done with Mistress’s strap on cock bobbing in front of her.

She snapped a shot of that as well.

“The Domme’s eye view”.  (You can see that photo too in last night’s “preview” entry.)

When she texted that photo to M, she received   a prompt, “fucking HOT”, in return. 

Instant gratification.

And as Mistress positioned and then plunged into me, she came with a certain ferocious enthusiasm. Maybe twice. And there were more orgasms as I fucked her with the little probe stuffed inside me, assuring that my cock would remain nice and hard.

(Did I tell you I had the hard steel ring from my cock cage on…. That always assures a longer, harder fucking, as Mistress has come to know).

But she wasn’t done adding to her O count for the day.

When we woke from our post sex nap, Mistress checked her I-phone and there was a message from our Western Correspondent.

“M wants to know if I can talk with him at 6, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”  I had plans to watch my alma mater on TV. Mistress was going to dinner later with the Surly Teen #2. This would work out fine.

About 90 minutes later, Mistress came downstairs, with that glazed, contented look on her face.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Not sure…. I lost count, Slave.”

I will have to look for a spike in our electric bill. Sounds like the Hitachi got a work out.

But now it’s Switch Day, and out Western Correspondent has some ideas on how to handle Mistress this morning. We got this dispatch from his yesterday and I plan to follow directions:

“Your lazy and underproductive WC has decided to do his job and provide some blog fodder.  For the entertainment of the sub sisters and a certain incorrigible  young lady, I provide the following tutorial on how to properly tan a young lady's bare bottom:

Have her strip bare naked.

Have her stand before you naked while you inspect her at your leisure.

Make sure she keep her hands at her sides and does not try and cover up

Embarrassment is good at this time.

Sit in a comfortable chair (you might be there for a while) with no arms to impede your swing.

Take her over your left knee.

Rap your right leg over both her legs.

Say hand please

She will then present her right hand to you.

Grab her right hand with your left hand

Now she is not going anywhere and you can give her a good talking to about the reason she finds her self in such a compromising position.

Then begin to spank her hard with your hand or implement of choice (a shoe horn would work well).

Stop often to lecture her about her bad and insolent behavior.

Don't pay any attention to her pleas for forgiveness. 

Or her howls, kicking and screaming.

Be strong, and do you duty.  

Remember she will say or do any thing to get out of her spanking at this time.

Pay no attention at all to her and spank her till you decide she has been properly punished.

Then have her go stand in the corner with her bright red bare bottom on display for you to admire as you have a nice soothing cocktail of your choice.

You deserve it after all that hard work.

I mention this only because I read your last blog entry with great interest, I actually said 10 extra not 10 total.   The 10 extra were for asking impertinent questions, as I know your are aware she is prone to do.   So use this information as you will on Sunday.

As always I remain, your lazy and underproductive,

Western Correspondent.”

Thank you, M…. I will see if I can live up to these high standards.