HIbernating

It seems that as the winter of 2010-11 proceeds, Mistress and Slave have fallen into some rather lazy habits.

It snowed here again in River City yesterday. And the temperature has not popped above 28 or so since our return from our Western outpost about 12 days ago. That and the infernal early darkness has eliminated our proclivity for outdoor exercise when we get home from work.

So what happens?

We tend to burrow into our bed, and with laptops in hand, forage through all of our favorite blogs, spreading comments and sexual energy among you , only to delight in the waves of comments and sexual energy that come back our way.

Before this winter, Mistress was only an occasional blog reader. She would peruse something I figured might be of interest if I handed it to her. Or she might have her Slave find a particular entry if given special recommendation by our Western Correspondent.

No more.

Now Mistress is thrilling to the delight of a new entry that pops up on our blog roll, as if a little present has been discovered at the toe of her Christmas stocking (not the kind with the little cunning aperture, the red one hung from the chimney with care!)

And if she sees a particularly good one, she will send a text to our WC to make sure he is on it, lickity split. Well…. not exactly, but you get the metaphor.

Last night, after I had been allowed to help her peal away her clingy black tights, and kneel for her post work worship, Mistress suggested that we rest a bit before prepping dinner. And the first thing she did was pop open her laptop to see if there was anything new from you to read.

And sure enough, there was Suzanne, back from her trip with Jay, talking about her interview with Mistress Millicent, and getting home to Tammy, who has that unopened present that he is so curious about.

“Did you ever figure out why Tammy was being punished for something he put in those weekend blogs?”

“Uhhh…. No, Mistress.”

And there was Aisha, trying to figure out how to resolve the conflict between the scheduling demands of her new prospect, and her desire to carve out some time for Sunday Church. Mistress left her own comment about her thoughts on organized religion. And Aisha seemed to take them in good spirit.

Of course Mistress marveled at the evolving story of Kelly Red, Sin and their Big Bad Dom.

“There could be some real drama here, Slave…..”

“No doubt, Mistress….”

You get the picture. You have become our alternative universe. And you are so much more interesting than the daily demands and whines of our clients, colleagues or surly teens.

“Slave…. You need to ask our friends out there a question ….. do they feel the way I do these days…. That our sex blog friends are a lot more interesting that dealing with our “real” friends?”

“Consider it done, Mistress…..”

After dinner, Mistress caught up on some of the latest posts, and then tucked her lap top away…..

“Slave…. I think it’s time for sex…”

That reminded us both of some conversation on the way home from work.

“M and I are going to have a date Thursday morning, Slave…. Is that OK with you?”

Well of course it was OK. Mistress makes the call when and if she wants to have one of her hot phone sex sessions with our Western Correspondent. No doubt they need to catch up on editorial planning for the year to come, and what better way to do it than naked and prone, on their respective beds, with Mistress’s Hitachi and his special occasion cock fully engaged.

My only downside: I suspect that I will be required to wear my cage that day, since we will necessarily be driving in separate vehicles.

But then there was a twist, as I learned when M gave Mistress a call as we neared our home. Of course, I could only hear her half of the conversation.

“So you are imposing an embargo, M?”

Hmmmm. I had forgotten about this aspect of their planning. M likes Mistress nice and desperate before their dates. A small but compelling exercise of remote control. Just talking about it seemed to make Mistress all squirmy in her leather seat.

“And exactly how long an embargo….?”

“Slave, M says I can’t come after tomorrow morning….”

“Of course Mistress…. I will do my part in making sure you follow his instructions.”

Soon we were home. There was some fresh snow to shovel, so I embarked on that task, as Mistress lingered in the car to talk with M a bit longer. Further planning, no doubt to get Mistress all stoked for Thursday morning.

Which gets me back to bed with her last night.

“I guess we need to get you a few more orgasms before the embargo begins, Mistress….”

“That would be nice, Slave….”

As we proceeded, Mistress seemed particularly desperate and wanton. It seemed she came twice as my fingers burrowed between her legs, and her fingers gripped and worked on my cock, waiting her permission to fuck her properly.

And there were more for her, as I fucked her from above, pausing from time to time to focus attention on her nipples, or to strum her clit with a finger or two as I slowly slid in and out of her velvety folds.

Was her mind focused on M’s sentence? The 24 hours of denial she would soon be serving.

Poor dear.

In any event, she seemed to get her money’s worth from her Slave’s efforts, before giving me permission to come.

And, my homework now done, soon I will slip upstairs, to “top her off”, before her sad sentence commences.

Mistress's In Box

It seems that our little experiment with CollarMe.com has played it self out.  The emails volume has diminished now that the “fresh meat” label seems to have worn off the modest posting, which simply refers “shoppers” to the UCTMW website for a description of our interests and background.

Of course, this was only a “dabble”.  Mistress remains quite taken by the charms and well advertised talents of our Western Correspondent, though I think she enjoyed his apparent concern about where all this was headed.  And she can get a little frustrated about the prospects of ever getting some first hand experience with his “special occasion cock”, which can sometimes bring to mind the last passage of the Great Gatsby. You know, the bit about the “American Dream” that recedes before us, always slightly out of reach.

At some point, let’s hope Mistress does get her fill.

But, like Aisha and SFP, it’s hard not to share a few of the more ham handed approaches by those trying to take up the tough task of breaking Mistress to their will.

Of course, I like to think Mistress has high standards. And basic grammar skills seem critical to her. Quite a few of the applicants seemed to fall far below that threshold.  Starting with the inability to spell out “you”, when a simple “u” was so much more direct. As in “Do U chat on Yahoo”, from some dude in LA.

Of course, there are also certain dimensional issues that Mistress considers deal breakers. Why were so many of these would be Doms shorter than her?  Not that Mistress, at about 5’6”, is an Amazon. But she had trouble with the concept of towering over her Dom.

Facial hair seems to be a big thing to in the CollarMe.com world. And Mistress can see her way around a neatly trimmed Moustache or beard on the "right" face. (The WC has been known to sport one). But what’s with these scraggly beards, and the guy with the little pointy chin beard and muscle shirt. Colonel Sanders meets the Fonz! Not her thing.

Mistress just giggled.

Some also had technological challenges. The link didn’t work. They had to be told how to google “Under Contract for My Wife”.  And there was one guy from a nearby City who seemed convinced that he had to sign up to be a member simply to read our adventures.  “Can you give me a hint?”, he asked.

Uhhh. No.

Geography was a challenge for some of these fellows. One asked if we were interested in relocating to the Boston area to serve him.  Sorry, Pal. Thanks for the offer, but you could never make me a Patriots fan.

And some guys seem just plain confused. When it was pointed out that we were not interested in a bisexual experience, a local applicant denied that he was, even though the mini-profile attached to his email continued to insist otherwise. 

But I could tell that the “pool” had been exhausted when we received for the 2^nd time what appeared to be an identical email from a guy on the East Coast. I will repeat it here only because it has a certain primal charm that some of you might appreciate:

hello...how are you both. I hope we can be friends.....I am a creative guy with a wild imagination and a thirst for pleasure. I am happy to possess her to be free to use her to satisfy my urges and desires. I like to explore one's boundaries and take my Submissive to the edge. I hope you both need a  real men to give you the pleasure you need and deserve.I'd love to fuck you while your man watch, I would teach you to be my obedient servant. I would even let your man clean your pussy of  My warm cum  after I fuck you. ........Would you like that? Let me know. can you both imagine,We were sitting around watching TV , your woman came downstairs after having had her bath. She was dressed in a tiny black dress I had not seen before, which showed a lot of bustand a lot of leg. She also wore black high heeled shoes . She looked absolutely gorgeous."How do I look?" she asked, asking me "are you ready to fuck me?" "You look wonderful" I said ,"Good" she replied,  we began to undress each other . i took charge., told you to get on your kness, kneel down and get your woman's cunt ready for me while she sucks my hard cock". you did as you were told, and after a while,i told you to have a good look at your wife's mouth sliding up and down my cock."your woman is a terrific cock sucker isn't she?" i asked. "Oh of course,you replied. your wife cut in spitefully, before returning to worship my dick. i told you to bring over a chair and sit by the bed to get a good view of what was to happen. you sat down ,you lay down on the bed. i got on top, and she wrapped her arms round my neck and her legs round my back. your woman said to you, " watch and learn how a women needs to be fucked""With that i rammed my cock into your wife with one thrust."Oh " she cried out "That feels so fucking good, i was showing you how it's done ,i was pounding into her, she kept eye contact with you the whole time. she kept telling you,"Oh , he has really mastered me, he has made me addicted to his cock. I am his cock sucking slut, and he is my  Master. I will do anything he wants, I am going to take his cum into my belly, and you are going to see it happen!" she begged me to fuck her harder and never stop. After what seemed like forever fuck, i  emptied my cum into youe willing woman. She loved it with pleasure, and thanked me for a wonderful fuck. After we both had calmed down, your woman grabbed you by the hair and pulled you towards her's cum-filled cunt..........."Lick it out.she said  What you can do right now , is get on your knees in front of me and lick my Master's beautiful  cum out of my cunt ." you  knelt before her and began to lick her. "Get used to the taste, " she told you, "you are going to be eating a lot more of that in future". UH,

Top of Form Bottom of Form

Top of Form Bottom of Form

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OK…. This gets poor grades for grammar and spelling.

But I must confess the scenario has a certain visceral appeal to old Mick. And I suspect with the right person in the role of the Dom, that Mistress would be more than happy to play her well satisfied role in this little drama.

I am curious to find out what she thinks when I go wake her up now.

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Mistress Goes to the Gym

Before I get back to our normal kinky sex, leavened with humor, programming on the UCTMW channel this morning, it’s impossible for me not to reference the events in Tucson yesterday.

For those of us who were sentient in 1963 and 1968 (and I know some of you were not around or paying attention then) the bulletins and fractured, conflicting  accounts from the press that we endured yesterday afternoon bring back sad and painful memories. And a good bit of irrational anger.

Molly and I have spent a good deal of time with politicians on the left over the years, and at events of the type horribly disrupted yesterday. And now I have a daughter who is on the staff of a prominent elected official  in DC. And though she was not around in 1963 or 1968, my daughter was sobbing over the phone, when I talked to her about this yesterday, afraid for her friends and colleagues. So it’s hard for us not to think of all this lunacy – the hate, the flying bullets, the chaos, the screams, the death – and wonder what it means for the future.

“How many times….?” Blowing in the Wind

Now, back to our regular programming…..

When it’s cold like it was yesterday here in River City – and I mean pretty danged cold – 18 to 25 degrees most of the day – Mistress likes to work out at a local health club. And her Slave happily joins her on the weekends.

Of course, our Western Correspondent is quite familiar with Mistress’s routines, and yesterday he saw her plans to head to the gym as his first opportunity to deploy the toy he had sent her for Christmas – that little vibrating ball, and it’s remote control.

(I suppose I need to get a photo of the clever little device to display for you here. But it’s a simple if colorful item. The vibrating cylinder at the end of a wire. And a remote control unit that is about three inches long and two inches wide, that has a pretty variable colored light display that changes based on the speed of the vibrations.  Very cute Mistress had instructed me to find and insert the proper batteries, so I had become familiar with the clever device’s operations.)

Here’s how things developed.

I had returned from dropping off my cute grandson after some play time, and we were about to head to the gym, when Mistress told me that M wanted to talk.

“Of course, Mistress….”

I excused myself, grabbed my laptop, and headed downstairs, switching on CNN to monitor the grim news from Tucson. I figured that Mistress was up on the bed, writhing to the tune of M’s seductive voice and the compelling vibrations of her trusty Hitachi. 

But I was surprised when Mistress came downstairs only about 20 minutes later, ready for the gym.

“Did you get to play, Mistress?”

“No Slave…. But I told him I would call from the car…. And I have been instructed to wear my little “present” from him.”

“Ahhhh…..”

Mistress dialed up M on our way, and they conferred about how she would deploy the device.

“I brought some tight work out shorts, M, to keep that thing from sliding down, or out dangling against my leg.   …..  I have to remember to keep the light side turned against my body, so no one can see the flashing lights through my shorts….”

Now that could be a little embarrassing.

Once at the gym, we went to our respective locker rooms to change. The next time I saw Mistress she was mounting one of those elliptical trainer devices. I was about 15 feet away, on a stationary bike. A bank of TV screens were deployed in front of us.  More conflicting updates from Tucson. Football, basketball, etc.

But the real show I wanted to pay attention to was going to come from Mistress. 

On the surface, she seemed pretty much the usual: well conditioned, pumping away at the machine, a damp glow popping out on her forehead and on her strong shapely thighs. She was the aloof but  hot head turner that men glance at furtively as they go about their own business. And there was a man on the machine right next to her, who was probably a bit younger than me, and a bit bulkier too. He seemed to give her a sideways glance from time to time.  No wonder.

I did notice that Mistress had her I-phone propped on the little panel in front of her.  Monitoring text messages from M?  Could be. 

From time to time I could see a little extra strain on Mistress’s sweat streaked face, but it was ….. ambiguous …. hard to read. But she never broke that focused, don’t fuck with me look, as she seemed to monitor the video screens, glancing from time to time at her I-phone.

After her 30  minutes were complete, and I was also in my cool down phase, Mistress slid off the machine, gathered up her phone and came over to me.

“Well, Mistress…..?”

“It was….Interesting, Slave……”

She leaned into my ear….

“It worked, Slave…..”

“You came that way…..”

“Uhhhh….. you could say that….. I will share details later, and maybe give you a taste.”

Naturally, I was anxious for all the sordid details, dutiful reporter that I am. And if there had been a private space about, I would have happily fallen to my knees, slid down her sweaty shorts, and tasted the aftermath of this debauch.  But alas, I would have to wait until after showers and the drive home.

But once home, as we were preparing for our own little session,  I got the details….

“How many times, Mistress…..”

“At least three, Slave…..”

“Wow…..And how did that work….”

“The vibrations, were inside…. But those tight pants, and the motion, they all combined together…..it was …. Pretty hot.”

“Very devious, Mistress….”

“ Of course, M kept texting me, asking for progress reports. And at some point, a picture of his cock popped up on my screen.”

Ahhh…. Some external mental stimulation as well.

“That guy next to you, do you think he saw that picture….”

“I thought of that…. It’s possible Slave…. How embarrassing….”

“So how did you keep going, even after having an orgasm….”

“It was a challenge …. I probably slowed down a bit after each one.”

But around that time, M was also on the phone, and I enjoyed hearing Mistress report these events to him.  No doubt he was as pleased with his little Slave’s obedience as I was impressed.

But there were other things to do, now that Mistress had been so thoroughly stimulated.

“Get out my equipment Slave… it’s time to fuck you in the ass.

“Ohhh…. I didn’t realize….”

She reinforced her orders, and I quickly found the equipment she needed: harness, dildo, lube.

She slid into her harness, made the appropriate adjustments.

“Now, get into position….”

“No warm up cuddles, Mistress…..”

It had been a while and this was happening very fast.  Yikes.

Ohhh…. Is this A little too abrupt for you, Slave…. “

She slid into bed next to me, kissing and fondling for a moment. Then, just as abruptly, climbed from our bed.

“I need to get one thing….”

She strode into our closet, only to emerge with her riding crop.

Wow. Things were getting very Domme-ish at Camp Collins.

“Roll onto your stomach.”

I did, and the blows began to rain down in quick succession.

I was  whiney, herky jerky on the bed…. I was not mentally prepared for punishment, and well …. It stung like hell as she patterned my ass with her crop.

“I think you know what these are for Slave…”

I did, but she was quick to explain anyway. I won’t go into the details now. Just suffice it to say that if given the opportunity to enter a plea, there would have been a number of affirmative defenses, including entrapment….

But in this case, justice was swift, and true and not to be delayed or denied with  legalistic defense.

Once Mistress was done with the crop, she had other intentions for my bottom.

“Now get in position, Slave…..”

I quickly complied, positioning a pillow under my hips. And Mistress went to me that way, sliding her hard plastic “cock” into my ass with a determined thrust. Then pumping away at me, until I was gasping, and she was coming hard with her own moan of conquest and shudders of release.

“I think you liked that Mistress….”

“I did Slave….”

She pulled out of me, tossing her strap-on onto the floor for her Slave to clean later.

“Now why don’t you go put in your device.” (our aneros).

Naturally, I complied, and the clever device had my cock hard and jerking for her in no time. Fortunately, I  soon found myself with permission to fuck Mistress properly. I think I was able to reward her with a few more orgasms before I was begging for permission to come.

Thankfully, she was merciful. I did not have to ask twice.

We went to a movie later, True Grit, which was definitely worth seeing. And on the way home, Mistress asked if my bottom as still sore.

“No Mistress…. It hurt like hell when you were doing it, but that pain goes away fast…. In fact, maybe you will get a taste of it in the morning …. While it’s all still fresh in my mind….”

“ Ahhh…. I Almost forgot about Switch Day, Slave….”

I hadn’t.