Molly and Mick are back, a bit groggy from the shift from Mountain to East Coast time... and too sleepy for any sex before heading to work in this grim Midwestern cold and grey.
But I noticed Mistress put on those black peek-aboo tights, so maybe I can delve my fingers into her folds on the way to work, giving me something to remind me of her as the day progresses.
The photo is an outtake from our Sunday switch. We are already missing the beauty and solitude of our hideaway. And the sunshine!
Stay warm out there and we will have more to share tomorrow.
Delta has that free wifi going this month.... so it's hard to resist providing a brief update, particularly since I suspect I will be too time lagged to get up for a proper posting on Thursday morning.
After Mistress's encounter with the tricked out ski pole, we fixed some breakfast and headed up the mountain for a half dozen ski runs in some very frigid, windy air.
By frigid I mean, the temperature never tipped above 10 degrees.
So when we got home, around 1 pm, we were both in need of some warming up. We planned a quick trip to the post office to mail off some Christmas presents we had acquired for relatives, then some serious under the covers time.
But just as we were taping up our package, Mistress got a text message from M.
"Uhhh .... Slave. He wants to know if I can talk...."
Well I knew there was some pent up M/Molly demand, so I happily agreed to make the post office run myself.
"Of course, Mistress.... do you know where your power tool is, just in case you have a need for it?"
I was a cracker jack Boy Scout all those years ago. "Be Prepared" remains my motto.
"Why don't you get it ready for me, Slave."
I did so, happily.... making sure the extension cord was on and her Hitachi was plugged in and resting on the bed, and at the ready.
Then I was off, posted our package, then shopped for a few more family gifts at our local General Store. I was making myself scarce, to give Mistress and M the privacy they deserved.
About 30 minutes later the text message chime on my phone went off....
'Call over, Slave."
I returned home then, and Mistress had that contented, well fucked look on her face.
"How many, Mistress?"
"Only one, Slave ... he wanted to make me have more, but I told him I was afraid that I'd embarasss you if you just walked in on me .... you know...."
I did know. Been there done that.... very hot, I must say, seeing Mistress writhing on the bed, all wrapped around her power tool, heeding M's directions.
"It's happened before, Mistress.... ", I reminded her of those events at the Lake Michigan Inn a few months back.
"I know, Slave.... that's what M said too."
By now, Mistress was warmed up plenty. and I was inspired by the brilliant sunshine in our little valley, where the temperature was considerably warmer than up on the mountain. I proposed a bike ride before we retired to our bed, and Mistress agreed.
"But I want that cock as soon as we get back, Slave."
It was sitting there in the corner, on top of our little toy bag… right next to Mistress’s Hitachi. Propped up against the wall.
What a shame not to use it again before it shape shifted back into a kid’s ski pole, far too small for our surly teens, waiting patiently in our closet for a grandson to pick up in the years to come.
“Mistress…. Wouldn’t you like to try on our home made spreader bar one more time?”
“But it’s not Sunday, Slave…are you suggesting a mini-switch day?”
“It seems a down right shame, Mistress….”
“You mean to waste this empty house time we have here?”
“Exactly….”
“Oh, if you put it that way…. Go ahead, Slave.”
Mistress was soon on her tummy…. Ankles attached firmly to the spreader bar. Since it was not a real switch day, I only peppered her lovely bottom with a few smacks with my palm…. Just enough to get the juices flowing…. And my olfactory senses told me that those juices were indeed flowing.
Mistress does respond well to this sort of treatment, M….
I snapped a few photos, noticing that the brand name “Scott” was apparent on the side of the pole. Wonder if we can get a product placement deal from Scott for future use here?
That’s when I reached for the Hitachi.
“Mmmmmmm…” was the type of sound she made as I slid it gently between her legs, as she wriggled a bit, lifting her ass to accommodate it.
As the device hummed I was entertained by the way Mistress clenched and released those well exercised ass and thigh muscles looking for the proper purchases against the vibrating ball buried beneath her hips. And, of course, there were her calf muscles, straining against the bindings that held her legs spread, trying to squeeze her legs against that churning tool.
As the “treatment” proceeded, the frequency and desperation of this squirming and flexing was a site to behold, as Mistress breathing became more ragged into her pillow. I added in some more stinging slaps to her ass as a sort of tactical distraction that would surely prolong this exercise.
This was turning out very nicely…. Mistress was so desperately close to coming, when…. Her I-phone rang.
“Oh….damn…. ignore it…. No…. could be the girls ….. better check it Slave….”
I switched off the Hitachi, leaving Mistress heaving in desperation on the bed. Oh, my. She must have been very close.
It turned out it was a work related caller who’s name popped up on her screen. But by now I was chuckling to myself in amusement at Mistress’s plight.
“Do you want to talk to her now, Mistress…. I can bring the phone over….or should I answer and tell her you’re ‘tied up’ right now.”
“No Slave…. Ignore it…. She’ll leave a message…. Just finish what you’ve started.”
It was chance to ‘re-boot’ Mistress, and I did, taking it slow, making her start from scratch…. Until that tell-tale flexing and straining had her all hot and desperate again… oozing the juices and scent that had the bedroom rank with her arousal.
Yum.
And then, suddenly, she was bucking and moaning, thrown over the edge by those powerful vibrations, her hips rising high off the bed as I made sure the Hitachi followed her until she was begging for me to turn it off, her face blotched and red with tears.
“Hold that pose, Mistress… I urged her… I think M would like this shot.”
She seemed amenable to the slutty photo of her on all fours, her swollen parts on full display, legs spread by our little converted ski pole.
“I get to approve it before it gets sent off to M, Slave.”
She keeps close watch over her image, particularly when it comes to M’s close inspection.
“Of course you do, Mistress.”
AS it turns out, Mistress approved the shot (which is far too wanton for this blog), and M apparently enjoyed it ….but then he can speak for himself, can’t he.
The rest of you can enjoy the shot above, as the early morning sun, popping up over our Mountain, illuminates Mistress in her spreader bar induced repose.
Sadly, We are packing up this morning, heading back to River City. But, as you can tell, this is a special place for us…particularly when we get some time here alone.
I got a bit carried away yesterday --- no not with my attentions to Mistress - but with the length of my description of our switch day activities.
Even M commented on it during a call with Mistress:
“M says it was a Great blog, Slave…. But it took him a long time to read.”
Frankly, I think M mostly stops by for the illustrations, which can be …. inspirational to him in those private moments of longing.
Maybe our next business plan for UCTMW, Enterprises, LLC should include a “classic comics” version of this tome …. Fewer words, more pictures. I always need to consider ways to enhance the (non)revenue stream
So today I will tighten things up, to get to the part I promised ‘Nilla on our flight out here last Friday.
Mistress and Slave were up relatively early …. There was blog reading, enthusiastic sex, a little after-nap for me.
Then I made breakfast for Mistress and we headed up the mountain.
There had been snow falling overnight, and snow clouds were still shrouding our little hideaway when we pulled out of the drive. But as we progressed up the canyon – climbing from about 7500 ft. to 9000 feet, we emerged from the clouds into a turquiose sky and a winter wonderland of glistening, new fallen snow, clotting tree branches and shrouding the rocks that clog the Arroyo rushing down hill along the road side.
This week is a slow one for the local ski area. No real crowds show up until Christmas, so we had the place almost to ourselves.
Which may explain why Mistress let her guard down a bit. We had dropped our skis off for some tuning the night before, and as we walked into the little shop to collect them, Mistress got a text from M.
“Slave… I’m going to talk to the Western Correspondent a few minutes while you get the skis. Is that OK?”
“Of course, Mistress.”
She stepped outside as I signed papers promising that whatever they had done to the skis, any injury would be our fault alone --- same as it ever was. Then the burly bearded ski maintenance guy offered to help me tote the skis and boots outside.
Sure enough, as we came through the door, there was Mistress, pacing, chatting up M, all perky and squirmy, as she becomes when talking to him. She sees me – and presumably the ski fixer guy – and blurts out all cheerily, “Oh M …. Here’s the Slave now, toting our skis….”
I was left wondering what the Ski fixer guy thought when he handed me the boots, glancing at Mistress in her shapely black ski wear. “Slave… hmmmm.”
Ah well. I’m proud to be Mistress’s Slave… whether in the bed or toting her skis Sherpa style. So what if the guy who I can’t sue knows it.
Though there was fresh snow, the terrain open on our little mountain is still limited, so we had no tredipation about calling it a day after about seven runs – maybe two hours- in the cold blustery air.
That left plenty of time for the real luxury of the day – an extended reading, napping, sex session in our bed, that took us through sunset. After that we took dinner at a nearly deserted local road house. Then rushed back to bed….
A perfect way for Mistress and Slave to spend a day….
Which gets me back to the notion of a kinky bloggers conference out here in the shadows of these timeless mountains.
Though it clearly would be a challenge for some of you to attend, the notion sure is fun, isn’t it? And I suggested via email to ‘Nilla that she might want to create a fictional account describing what kinky zaniness might ensue if the sub-sisters and their domly consorts could join us out here some summer weekend. Maybe the Western Correspondent could join us to provide a little “local color”.
But I figured that ‘Nilla might need some illustrations to get her considerable imagination perking. Here goes:
The house has two bedrooms, an extra office/ bedroom, and a common room with kitchen, dining area, and living room. But if things get crowded, there is a local place that can rent tipis (I’, not making that up)…. Or some charming B & B’s nearby.
The ceilings are relatively low, with hand carved “vigas” (beams) above, that easily take a load bearing eye screw, as demonstrated in Monday’s illustration. Here is a different view.
There are two fireplaces:
Outside there is a “portal” that surrounds the house, providing shade, held up by sturdy wooden beams:
Can’t you imagine Sir D, Aisha’s fave, demonstrating his rope skills with these as props? Why settle for one bound sub-sister when there could be a collection for a rope workshop. There is plenty of privacy for such displays, unless you worry about the prying eyes of a neighbor's ornamental horses.
Oh, and there is a low adobe wall surrounding our patio (not sure I have a picture of that), that could certainly handle a slave bent over for spanking or …. Whatever.
And let’s not forget the trusty picnic table:
It has so many potential uses:
So go for it ‘Nilla. Can’t wait to read what you might come up with.
We are now accepting conference reservations for July 4th weekend, 2011.
