Drive by Domme

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HNT/ Opening an Interesting Door....

Molly and Mick noticed that some of you out there have made reference to CollarMe.com as a place you have looked and to some extent found interesting interactions in the broader BDSM community. You know who you are, and I need not name names (or in this case, Nomes de Blog).

So we were lying about Tuesday night, perusing blogs, and Mistress was focusing on a new one, on the subject of “HotWifing.”

“here’s a good one Slave…. She’s got 3 or 4 lovers at a time…. That would be interesting, wouldn’t it!”

“Very interesting, Mistress….”

A little twitch from my cock told me just how interesting it might be.

I somehow merged those two thoughts and popped over to “CollarMe.com”, opening a very non-descriptive  profile for Mistress and her devoted Slave, with some basic facts – interests (maybe a Dom for Mistress), height, weight, age….

I figured it was a way to explore around and see what was on the sight.  What I did not expect is all the emails that suddenly began popping up in our joint in-box, addressed to Mistress or the both of us.

Of course, some of the “names” used by some of   the enquiring participants were a bit of a turn off. Mistress seemed a tad put off by “FilthyFucker”, even before his message was opened.

One guy went straight to the point. “Hello, have you both been trained?”

My guess is he did not want to take on a project. Only well trained prospects need apply.

Others seemed a bit out of our reported range of interest, like a woman who described herself as a 23 yr. old lesbian dominant. It’s hard to imagine her taking my wily and more experienced Mistress in hand, isn’t it?

And some were just too darn short.

“Slave, it would be hard to take a Dom seriously who is a shorter than me.”

Yeah, I can see that…. But then Mistress is a few inches shorter than me, so….

One fellow described himself as a big bad Dom, but then when you clicked on his picture, there he was in a sequined, royal blue dress.  You’re sending mixed signals there, pal.

Of course, there were a few solicitations that survived the snicker test, one guy who described himself as an Ivy League refugee who had an interest in exploring options. And a couple from down river who described themselves as a Dom/Domme.

Of course, Mistress described our little experiment to our Western Correspondent who was more than a little amused.  And Intrigued. My sense is that he had no problem with Mistress checking out her options, but then….

This message popped up in her in-box soon thereafter:

“You have a message on Collar me from Colorado Dom the meanest nastiest SOB west of the Mississippi!  Sadistic brutal pain giver but with a sense of humor and a heart of gold that will have you rolling as u writhe in pain U can have the best of both worlds with me, BDSM and a comedy show, the ladies love me I and I dress in really creepy clothes like leather aprons to keep body fluids away from me 

contact me for the time of your life on Collar Me, I am the Dom of your dreams,, see attached pic of me in costume. “

Yes, our WC has a robust sense of humour.

On the way home last night, Mistress was exchanging texts with the WC and the conversation went to Mistress’s thirst for adventure. She reported a bit of their exchange:

“He says maybe he should lend me to other men. He would get paid in tequila and “laughing cow” cheese.”

(We get COSTCO charges for both on the WC’s UCTMW credit card. Have to keep the branch office well stocked to keep his “creative” juices flowing).

“Do I get a cut, Mistress?”

She tapped away on her I-phone, and reported back.

“Yes Slave…. He says you can both drink tequila and eat cheese while these other guys get a crack at me.”

Call us crazy, but by the time we got home, I was in an urgent need to worship Mistress. And she seemed equally anxious for worship.

Those black work day tights were unpealed, to reveal some juicy and swollen parts all ready for my tongue and lips.

I will take that little treat over Laughing Cow cheese anyday.

Oops.

Slept in here at the Collins compound. Guess I am still catching up to Mountain time. Either that or I am trying to block out the fact that our old neighbor (his family saloon is not far away from us) will become Speaker of the House today. I.e., it's a good day to sleep all the way through.

So I reserve the right to revise and extend my morning remarks.

Yesterday we got a bit of our work-a-day rhythm back here at UCTMW.

Hot morning sex. My cock and balls, confined in that hard steel ring, certainly were desperate for Mistress. So after I used tongue and lips to provide a little wake up excitement for her, she allowed me to take her before our morning . We had both forgotten how hard my cock gets, and how much extra energy it takes for Slave to come when the ring is seated in it's proper place. and all that extra energy gets expended making sure that Mistress is well and truly fucked.

She seemed pleased when the dust settled and I was granted permission to come.

After our shower, it was time to fit the cover on my little cage. and the lock secured me for the rest of the day. Though I did screw up in this sense: Mistress must have been busy, so I forgot to give her the pleasure of snapping the lock closed herself. That may explain subsequent events.....

I was off to a meeting out in the burbs, and Mistress had her own morning meeting, so we drove separately. But the plan was to make time for lunch together.

At around noon I was back in my office, talking to a colleague when Mistress breezed in, and took a seat. Like so many of my younger male colleagues, he seemed to get sheepish when she arrived. No doubt they all scratch their head at why the lovely and desirable Molly would cling to the old Mick. Can you imagine what they would think if they knew the "real deal"?

That Mick had a hard steel cage confining his cock, and that once the door was shut, Mistress would be sitting on her throne, siding off one black boot and one leg of her sensuous black tights, and requiring her slave to fall to his knees for some pre-lunch worship?

By the way, it was not until bedtime last night that Mistress chose to release her Slave from that cage. I wore it though dinner and some time watching an old movie.

"Slave... it won't hurt you to get used to some extended time in the cage....and I do feel so much more secure when I know you are so safely locked away."

"Of course, Mistress...."

Comforting Rituals

Molly and Mick were all wiped out on their first Monday back to “reality”. The time shift and recovering from all those hours on our crammed steel and glass capsule, hurtling through the time and space across a good chunk  of America had  us a little off our game.

And of course there was the return to our offices, where our colleagues almost forgot who we were and what the hell we did there.

But there were some comforting rituals that helped us make it through the day.

When I arrived at the office, there was a lovely email photo of Mistress's cunt, swaddled in some lacy green undies. I figured our Western Correspondent got a copy too, but that did not bother me. At least I was on the distribution list.

There were  the little affectionate text messages that popped up on my cell from time to time. 

Or were they taunting?

In a  mid-afternoon meeting, my cell beeped and I scanned the message:

“M is sending me pics of assholes, Slave.”

For a minute I was confused. Why would M send Mistress a photo of someone like Don Rumsfeld or Dick Cheney? Or was it Bret Farve?

Then I realized what she was probably referring to….

“His?”, I responded. I tried to imagine our WC positioning himself for such a shot. But then maybe he had hired a free lance photographer that would show up on some future expense report.

“No… just random ass holes.  He’s trying to provoke me.”

Ahhh…. The provocative image  of being taken from behind by the special occasion cock. I suspect that may well have gotten Mistress’s juices flowing, even in her exhausted state.

After my meeting, I decided that the return trip downtown to my office was a bridge too far. So I simply headed home, getting there around 5 pm. Mistress was still out, having sought refuge at her nail salon for the full appendage treatment.

“After all that skiing, my feet are a mess, Slave…. And those broken finger nails form all that cold weather…. “

“Enjoy, Mistress. Just checking emails.”

When Mistress returned home, she found me on our bed, sorting through work emails. She collapsed next to me, and together we scanned some of your blogs, before mustering the strength to whip together a suitable emal for the teens.

It was only after we read and expressed admiration for Suzanne’s kinky choreography at ALL MINE, aligning cocks and tongues so dramatically with her stable of men, that I realized I had ignored an important ritual.

“Would you like me to worship, Mistress?”

This was something we had fallen off the wagon on during our ski trip. Slave had not spent nearly enough time on his knees. And it probably showed in my slovenly and disrespectful attitude.

Mistress had already shed her work outfit, so all I had to do was remove her lacy green undies.. But even then I had to be corrected, since my initial approach was to part her legs on our bed and slide between them/

“Is that the proper position, Slave….”

“Oops.”

I tossed a pillow on the floor, knelt and she embraced my head with those delicious thighs.

It seems her luscious nectar always tastes better when I am down on my knees, focused solely on her pleasure.

I parted her clean shaven lips with my tongue, tasting the first flow of her juices, then proceeded to devour her, suctioning her little bud between my lips until she was writhing, then bucking against me. When she approached her peek, she squeezed my head hard with her thighs, then collapsed back on the bed, spent.

I slid up next to her then, embracing her, as she came down.

“Slave, I know you’re exhausted too. so no sex for you tonight. Save your energy for the morning. And since we can’t drive together in the morning, you need to wear your cage.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

So here I am, sufficiently rested, the steel ring that seats my cage already in place, snugging my cock and balls in its tight embrace.

Let’s hope Mistress is indulgent when I wake her up. Otherwise it could be a very long day.