HNT / Planning a Ski Trip as Ass Week Continues

Our second entry for Ass Week here at UCTMW is a shot from a recent switch day. You can’t see it, but Mistress’s legs are tied tightly to the bed. Her arms are cuffed and likewise bound to the bed. I enjoyed seeing her wriggle that lovely ass as she tried to get the power tool positioned just right. It took her a lot of time. And a lot of energy. By the time she finally was begging for position to come, the poor dear was all tuckered out. But it seemed the effort was worth it…..

Hope that gets the jaws flapping over at All Mine. We like the idea of getting Suzanne’s gents in trouble.

And speaking of Jay, Tammy and Suzanne, well, actually we were -- at our local watering hole last night.

The Great Storm of 2011 was petering out here – River City had just received a glancing blow – and a gentle snow was falling on the quiet streets of our little town. The brutal wind had died off. It seemed like a nice night to bundle up and walk down to our “local”. As Mistress sipped her Amaretto, and I my Jamieson, we talked about an upcoming ski getaway at the end of this month.

“You know, Mistress. Jay and Tammy sometimes ski together. Maybe we should invite the three of them to join us out there sometime….”

“Hmmmm….. that would be interesting….”

Mistress raised an eyebrow. Her curiosity was piqued.

“It sure would be nice to have someone else to help with the chores.”

I was thinking Tammy doing some light dusting, as I carted in wood for the fire, or maybe cleared some dead brush in preparation for spring. It might be natural for our chores to break down into the traditional “house slave” / “field slave” categories.

“But where would they sleep, Slave?”

“Well, if they joined us, they could have the guest bedroom and the “office” (with its fold out couch) to divide up as they saw fit, Mistress…. We wouldn’t want to micromanage.”

Then again, there are some lovely B & B’s nearby, should they want a little more privacy.

“I suppose that might work, Slave.”

“Of course the pecking order would be a little more complicated wouldn’t it?”

“How do you mean, Slave?”

“Well you have to admit that Suzanne, is a lot more Dommish than you are. And Tammy, certainly is required to submit much more thoroughly than me….and on Switch Day, well, the permutations are unlimited.”

“It would certainly be intriguing, Slave….maybe I could get Suzanne to give me a few pointers on how to manage you better…. I bet she thinks I’m a little too indulgent.”

“No doubt, Mistress … No doubt …. And since she seems so generous with Tammy’s attentions, we might even get to have  a little “worship-off” – I wonder who could get you off faster only using lips and tongue?”

Not that speed in necessarily a good thing Maybe we could devise a scoring system.

As we walked home through the snow, watching our footing as best we could, the talk turned to how the Western Correspondent would react to these arrangements.

“My guess - it would drive him crazy, Mistress.  He’d want to be in on the ‘action’”.

“Well he certainly has been invited in the past, Slave…. And he’s only a few hours away.”

“Knowing he might get a glimpse of all these characters that enrich his smutty fantasy life would make a quick drive south rather hard to resist….”

Back at home we shed the thick coats and prepared for bed. And, sure enough, there was a text from the WC, asking if Mistress had time to chat.

I offered to leave the room, but she demurred.

“No, Slave…. Get into bed next to me.”

They talked  a bit about their day, and she shared our little speculations about inviting the All Mine crew out West for a long ski weekend.

“Mick says it would drive you batty to miss that gathering, M….”

Of course, I did not catch the response.  Just Mistress’s giggles, and the subtle little signals her body sends off when she is stoking her infatuation with our WC.

And soon I was setting aside the Sports page from the Times to do what this Slave does best.

“He’s at it again M, under the sheets… attacking me with his lips ….”

And M quickly got with the program. Mistress soon was focused on his voice as I acted as the instrument of whatever crude fantasy he was spinning for her.  Mistress took her time, building to a lovely crescendo, all the while murmuring to him those sweet little phrases ….

“Yes…. M….I would M….”

Oh, I am sure she would.

Mistress had one of those hip bucking, leg scissoring cums,  with the benefit of our mutual attention. Then she rolled over and whispered some sweet good nights to M. They confirmed their plans for a “date” this morning, after Mistress attends a little conference with Surly Teen #2’s guidance counselor.

I guess that means it’s a cock cage day for me…. Better remember to slide on that ring before I go out into the cold and retrieve the newspapers.

Stay warm out there!

Ass Week

After that 4:30 am command performance yesterday, both Slave and Mistress were a little tired by the end of our workdays. As we drove home from the gym last evening, Mistress described our state to our Western Correspondence in a brief conversation:

“I’ve told Slave no sex tonight…. Too tired. But at least we did have that worship session in his office….”

Yes, Mistress did stop by after lunch. She was wearing those tricked out tights, with the nice convenient opening between her thighs. So nice for some drive by pleasuring during a busy workday. And when I was done, still on my knees, I took a photo of her: smug smile, legs spread, pink lips showing, to be sent to M via text message.

Mistress wanted to keep him up to date. Would that be penalized as taunting in the NFL?

Mistress relayed to me that it was 17 degrees below back in his home town. SO cold that they closed schools, even though the snowfall was minimal.

“Remind him that he needs to keep his equipment protected, Mistress….frost bite can easily reoccur once that sensitive flesh is compromised.”

In several comments yesterday, our WC had been escalating his demands for more accommodation for his sad, disabled special occasion cock. Somehow an extended recuperation at a San Diego golf resort had been added to his wish list.

“M, I’ve told you that the CEO is willing to drop everything and fly out to supervise your recovery…. “

But somehow M has ignored that generous offer by our “hands on” Boss.

“Maybe he’s afraid you will use the trip to inventory all those “office supplies” that keep showing up on his expense account, Mistress….”

So said the always paranoid CFO.

But the conversation soon turned to today’s reading material.

“Really …. Suzanne’s blog is about my ass?”

Clearly, M had been perusing the blogs during his work day.

“I’m not surprised, Mistress…. You really do have a very remarkable ass.”

Mistress noted my compliment. But her curiosity was clearly piqued.

“That will be my first priority when I get home, M.”

Sure enough, once we had prepared a light repast, we flipped open our laptops, to read what Suzanne was up to with her devoted stable of men. Here is the link.

I do think the attention made even Mistress blush.

It seems that both Jay and Tammy have been commenting on Mistress’s alluring ass, raising some concern about the level of discipline for Tammy over at All Mine.

Of course, based on data collected from secretly installed video monitors at our Mountain Zone branch office, we know that our Western Correspondence sometimes conducts his own workday “meditations” with the help of some blown up photos of Mistress’s lovely bottom. (No doubt the evidence of these little sessions will make good evidence in Court someday, should he pursue an intentional tort claim based on the alleged damage to his “frock”).

Now, of forced to choose favorite physical attributes, I would go for Mistress’s legs. But that’s just me. I have long been a devotee of the stems. And Molly has primo stems. But I can certainly understand why others might focus on Mistress firm and shapely ass.

And with Suzanne’s own ass on the line, depending on the outcome of Sunday’s Big Game, well, it seems only fair to make this “Ass Week” here at UCTMW….

If the “vanilla” world will have to look at photos all week of Troy Palamalu’s long hair, and Ben Rothlisberger’s beard, why shouldn’t we do a little counter-programming, here at the UCTMW media empire, and flood the zone with multiple shots of Mistress’s million dollar ass, collected in our extensive photo archive.

I may even be able to persuade Mistress to pose for a few new ones for this celebration of one of her finest physical attributes.

This one is from a few months back, when Mick and Molly “did it”, after hours, on my office floor.

Maybe by the end of the week we can take a vote on our readers’ favorite ass shot, for permanent posting here at UCTMW.

In the meantime, stay safe and warm out there. Here in River City, we are in the proverbial arm pit of the Great Storm of 2011: On the cusp between freezing rain and snow. Which means we seem to have been spared all but the howling wind, whipping through here off the plains, by way of Oklahoma.

I guess that means we won’t have Mistress pose for any outdoor ass shots anytime soon.

"Press It Up Against Me, Slave."

That’s what Mistress said last night when it was lights out here in River City. In fact, that’s what she usually says. She likes the feel of my cock pressed up between the cheeks of that delightful ass as she slips off to dream land.

And of course I try to accommodate, spooning up against her, an arm wrapped around her resting on a breast. 

Last night, the cock was all worn out, a little damp from some power fucking, the type that goes on for a long time, in part because after a long and busy day, Slave has the energy to get his cock nice and hard (with some handy provocation from Mistress) but not the energy and focus for a quick cum, once Mistress’s needs are “resolved”.

So Mistress had the experience of me taking a long slow and persistent time before I begged for permission. And I heard no complaints. In fact, Mistress seems to enjoy that long slow fuck, with a few additional orgasms tossed in to keep her entertained along the way.

Before the fucking part, we had been laying in bed, watching the uplifting if unnerving news from Cairo on my laptop (That Erin Burnett on NBC must have packed a lot of wardrobe for this story – I swear we saw her in 3 tops over the course of the evening).

Mistress was multi-tasking: trolling through facebook to check out photos of friends, while texting back and forth with our Western Correspondent.

M’s town, out there on the edge of the Rockies, was in the crosshairs of the weather Armageddon that the networks are obsessing about, and M texted Molly that the temperatures were supposedly headed for 17 below.

“Better warn him to protect the equipment, Mistress …. They say once a body part suffers frost bite, it’s even more vulnerable the next time….”

We sure don’t want to see  UCTMW Worker’s comp premiums spike. Profit margins are pretty thin already, and can barely keep Mistress in power tools and tricked out black tights.

Mistress must have passed on the message. When the little text chime went off, she snickered.

“He wants to know when Donna is going to deliver his cock cozy…. He may need it this week.”

A bit later, Mistress was texting some more, and mentioned that M was complaining that he’s getting “fat”…. Has all that rehabilitation  made him a couch potato?

“I guess we could adopt a wellness program, Mistress …. Don’t want our far flung staff getting too thick… that’s going to drive up health care costs.

When M got wind of this possibility, he began layering on the demands …. Gym membership …. Massage therapist …. You get the picture.  I’m wondering if we can outsource his job to someone in India, who won’t abuse the expense account, but can still keep Mistress entertained with the occasional rampant cock shot?

Something to consider when we update the UCTMW strategic plan.

It was about that time that Mistress signed off with M, and I shut down the news feed.

“I told him we’re having sex now, Slave.”

And so we did.

But at around 4:15 am, I heard from Mistress again.

“I’m having trouble sleeping Slave….”

Hmmm. I wasn’t. But I do live to serve her.  I stifled a yawn, and did my best to respond.

“Would you like me to deploy your power tool, Mistress?”

I wasn’t too confident that the batteries on my organic tool had recharged sufficiently, if you know what I mean.

No, Slave…. I think I want the real one….”

I tried to wake myself, then sidled up next to her. Fingers slid between those familiar folds. Already damp. Teeth latched onto vibrant nipples. Deep kisses were exchanged as Mistress’s lovely body wound itself around mine.

Soon my fingers were having the desired effect, as Mistress moaned and writhed her way through a seemingly satisfying cum.

Would this make her drowsy?

Uhhh, No.

“How’s my cock, Slave….”

Her well manicured hands sought it out… and, I was surprised to discover that it was …. interested. Soon, with some additional provocation from Mistress’s skilled fingers, it was very interested. So interested that I was begging for the opportunity to demonstrate it’s intended purpose.

Not unlike a few hours earlier, this turned into one of those long drawn out affairs. At some point I took a break to slide off my T-Shirt.

“It’s getting hot in here, Mistress….”

“Yes, Slave…. Very.”

And when we were finally done – after permission was granted and taken – I slid back to sleep for a while, having served my purpose. But Mistress  -- she was up and running – on her lap-top, responding to office emails, checking the weather.  Very focused.

No wonder she’s the CEO. And I’m the lackey.

Mistress Gets Her Squirm On.

As Switch Day dawned here at the Collins family compound, I really had no specific plan for Mistress, though my bottom still had the faint memory of the cropping I had received the afternoon before.

I suppose some Slaves with a switch option in their contract might jump on the opportunity to “return the favor” particular when sporting fresh, hard earned welts.

But oddly, when Mistress gets all dommy with me – wields the crop and deploys her strap on – it really makes me a bit more subby, and much less inclined to highlight her own, much more shapely bottom with some tender red stripes.

Oops. Maybe I should not have disclosed such a weak-kneed proclivity.

In any event, after Mistress paged me, I brought her up the Sunday papers. We perused them for a while, before I handed her the laptop for her morning blog read. As is typical, I feaster on her parts, got the juices flowing, while she read my morning homework and scanned a few other blogs.

But then it was time for her to face the music.

I reached into our little bed side table, pulling out the red leather wrist cuffs, and the companion locks.

This was the cue for Mistress to wrap herself tightly in the covers.

“But its cold, Slave.. “

She does like to whine and wheedle.

But ultimately she was a good sport. Though she expressed a little surprise when I locked her wrists behind her back.

“What are you up to Slave?”

Then she squirmed some more – more complaints about the “frigid” air, as I reached for her ankles, linking them together under the covers with some leather binders.

This is where my improvisation began.

I don’t recall ever having Mistress in the classic hogtie position.

But there is a first time for everything.

And since I had decided to give her a pass on any serious cropping or spanking, I didn’t have to worry about full access to her lush bottom, did I?

A length of rope stuffed into that bedside drawer would provide the proper link. SO the covers came off, her legs were pulled up towards her wrists, and the connection was made. Not too strenuous…. But enough to make those strong muscles in shoulders and legs strain just a bit… and how does she look dear readers, all vulnerable and bound?

I took a few photos then.

“Remember Slave…. I get approval rights before any of those get posted….”

“Does that really apply on Switch Day, Mistress…. I’m not sure you’ve read the contract carefully….”

“You know it does, Slave….or you will really be in trouble….”

Can anyone recommend a good ball gag vender. I do think that might be a good addition to our toy box.

After our little photo shoot, I slid down onto the bed next to Mistress, stroking her with my fingers, nibbling a bit at the lovely expanse of helpless flesh on display for me.

“You really are quite beautiful like this Mistress….”

She just cooed into the pillow a bit as I explored a bit. the squirming had begun.

But then I reached for the Hitachi, parked, as usual, just under our bed. I thumbed it on.

“Don’t put it on ‘Hi’ Slave….”

“Ohhh. Listen to you, still giving orders….”

But I had no reason to put it on “hi”…. Not hurray here.

The business end of the pwer tool slid nicely between her thighs from behind… probably not exactly where Mistress would place it if she was at the controls…. But then that was the fun part…. Seeing her wriggle, squirm and buck a bit to get just the right purchase….

Yum.

Her musky scent was beginning to fill the room. A slight sheen of perspiration was springing forth.

“Still cold, Mistress….”

“Uhhh… guess not, Slave….”

“remember, you must ask for permission….”

“Yes Slave….. “

She seemed to be in the spirit of things now…. Wriggling to and frow, straining to spread bound legs just enough to get her sodden parts just where that little churning machine could do its optimal work.

“May I come now, Slave… please…..”

Who could deny such a pitiful request. Well, sometimes I could… but not yesterday…

“Of course you may, Mistress…. Go for it…”

I could tell she had been holding back … just a bit…. maybe afraid that I would say “no”…

So it took her a good 30 seconds or so to get full cummy momentum and then plunge full speed over the edge…. Humping the mattress, and moaning into her pillow. After the aftershocks subsided, she suggested that had been enough.

“You can stop it now, Slave.”

But I didn’t. She didn’t seem so desperate for the end… not just yet. I “cruelly” forced one more out of her, her leg muscles straining, shoulder and arms stretching as she tried with a certain delicious determination to clutch at the tool as it took her back over the precipice one more time.

By now her body was nice and sticky with a combination of salty perspiration and her juices…

“Now Slave…. Please turn it off.”

“As you wish, Mistress….”

I let her rest a bit, cuddling next to her, as I untied the rope that connected wrists to feet. Then I took off the leather cuffs at her ankles, letting her stretch and rest a bit.

She wiggled her wrists.

“What about these, Slave?”

“Ohhh… not done yet, Mistress….”

My next little experiment was having her ride my cock with wrists bound….

It took a little more effort than you might imagine. Her body was a little tired and tight, but with some helpful pushing and prodding I had her up and over me, and her fingers were quite helpful in guiding my firm and friendly cock where it was destined to be.

Suffice it to say that Mistress, once on top, got into the sprit of things…

Her bound hands were at just the right position to toy with my balls, even as my fingers could tweek helpless nipples.

“I bet M would like this, Mistress making you ride his cock with your hands all helpless….”

“Mmmmm….”

Her eyes were shut tight… envisioning it no doubt.

“And I bet you’d enjoy that too, wouldn’t you….”

“I would, Slave…”

Make a note, M.

Soon she was coming again, with a loud moan of surrender to her desires, then collapsing onto me. As I hugged her close, my cock still sliding into her, but at a more relaxed pace, I realized that I had taken her about as far as seemed fair on our little Switch Day.

So I helped her roll over, unfastened her wrists, let her stretch out a bit, then took my own reward.

And it’s funny how, even on Switch Day, things always seem to end with me asking for her permission to come.