Ass Week Ends, as Cage Week Begins.

Today marks the 7th consecutive days of photos of Mistress’s lovely ass, inspired by Suzanne, Jay and Tammy over at All Mine.

But of course, we are still waiting for that ass shot from the WC.

I thought I could shame him into coming up with one by finding large and hideous “ghost asses” for him, but apparently the man has no shame.

Which I suppose makes him well suited to serve as the Western Correspondent for the UCTMW Media Empire.

But a new week has begun, and it’s turning out to be “Cage Week” for Mick. Our policy here is that on days when we don’t drive to work together, Mistress requires me to be “caged up”. And as luck would have it there is a full work week in store for me.

Mistress had some kid related errands to run at the beginning of her day yesterday. The same today. Then On Wednesday she’s headed out of town until Friday evening. So my cock and balls are adjusting to the tight grip of that hard steel ring.

Yesterday morning, I was alert enough when I crawled out of bed to grab the hard steel ring from my dresser drawer. Downstairs, I smushed my balls and cock through the tight enclosure before embarking on my morning tasks. It’s always easier when things are loose and dangling, before the morning chill tightens things up, so to speak.

And when Mistress offered me the opportunity to fuck her, after being properly serviced, she found the type of hard and insistent tool that only a tight confinement at the base of my package can produce. Of course, coming is a little harder with that constriction, but when the countdown reaches “lift off” and my commanding officer drops the green flag, all things are very, very Go.

Last night I arrived home at around 6 pm, and Mistress was already lying in bed, waiting for me. After worshiping to her satisfaction, she kindly reached for the little key to spring me loose.

Ahhhh.

But come Wednesday I may be in for a longer period of confinement.

“I suppose it’s good that you are getting a little warm up before I leave town, Slave….”

Not so sure. God forbid I go Cold Turkey into the cage for three days….

Before we leave the subject of the NFL behind …. And it could be a while before those guys are back with a lock out looming over protracted labor negotiations .... I wanted to mention the role our long lost cousin played in making all those Cheeseheads happy, and saving Suzanne’s Ass from Jay’s visit.

When the Packers opened up a 14-0 lead late in the 1st Quarter, I swore I heard Troy Aikman point out that Safety Mick Collins was the guy hauling in that key  interception and running it to the house. Mistress and I smothered our laughs, as the folks in our house cheered the impending comeuppance of the dreaded Stillers.

AS it turn out it was Nick Collins…. Stud of the game for the Pack.

And here’s a great post game interview of him. He is a cocky and confident fellow, who does the Collins family proud. Collins interview

They say the “Black Irish” arose from the gene pool created when more than 50 ships of the Spanish Armada met their comeuppance on the rocky shores of Ireland’s West Coast back in 1588. The survivors scrambled ashore. Some were slaughtered by the British occuppiers of that wondrous but long oppressed Isle.

But others found some fair Irish maidens to provide them shelter and nurse them back to good health.

(Wondering now what therapy was provided for cocks frozen in the brutal North Atlantic. Maybe there is an answer on Wikipedia we could share with the WC).

I am wondering if cousin Nick can trace his ancestry back to some Moor gunner or deck hand, who met up with one of my great great great great great grandma’s back in County Kerry all those years ago.

Maybe he’d agree to be our Dairy Country Correspondent.

"That's What a Slave is For...."

As Super Sunday dawned, we lounged in bed a bit, reading the newspapers. There would be a trip to the gym in about 90 minutes, but we were in no hurry. At least not just yet.

We talked about our Saturday night out with a vanilla couple. I had an opportunity to slip a little non-vanilla comment in, which always is fun.  He is a former media type who is adjusting to retirement. She is still a working professional. So he was describing all the chores he now does at home.

“I just tell her ‘don’t you worry your little head about it.’

Mistress looks at me, and says, “I wish I’d here that more from Mick….”

It was a great set-up.

“No, what I usually say is ‘that’s what a Slave is for’”.

Mistress gave me a little kick under the table.

After chuckling through the blog, as I slid my tongue through those tasty folds, Mistress tried to pretend it wasn’t our Switch Day. Maybe she thought I would forget, with all this attention on the Big game and preparations for the party we had in store with a collection of friends and relatives.

But I am a man who pays attention to his responsibilities, and duty called. The last time I skipped exercising my switch privileges, Mistress got a little huffy with me. I think she really did miss that hour or so of surrendering the keys and being taken for a ride to an unknown destination.

Of course, things might have been better with the appropriate props. Don’t you think a strategically placed Cheesehead would have gone made for a fetching picture for the end of ass week. But so it goes…. We were able to bottom out without props.

I knew I wanted one more photo to tease all you bottom feeders out there, and what better than one that features her scrumptious derriere with a nice red glow.

So after I had to draw her out from hiding under those sheets, I cuffed her hands together and tied them off over head. Her ankles were also bound with the black leather cuffs we have for such ocassions.

“On your tummy now, Mistress.”

She gave me that little pout, but complied with my simple direction.

And that’s when the spanking began. Slow at first, but advancing my pace until Mistress was yelping a bit into her pillow. I was looking for a nice red glow to share with our readers.

“I know M thinks I’m a wimp when it comes to spanking, Mistress….I’m sure he’d be much crueler and more persistent than me….”

“Ouch….that’s what he says, Slave…..”

Of course, knowing Mistress, I am sure she thinks she could distract him with her lovely twitching ass and that slick, tempting, clean shaven cunt of hers.  And maybe she would.  Maybe M would want to move on ASAP to the next course.

Let’s hope she finds out some time.

By then Mistress’s bottom was all nice and pink, and I think she had “learned her lesson”…. Whatever that might have been.

It was hardly the sort of spanking that Tammy got from Suzanne, with those witnesses on Saturday night. But it served my purpose.

The camera came out and Mistress languished a bit, her bottom still grinding against the sheets as I snapped some seductive images. A sample is above.

Putting the camera down, I settled back onto the bed, lying on top of her. Her legs were tightly bound, but it seemed she enjoyed the feel of my cock sliding between her cheeks. As I grazed on her neck and shoulders I considered biting her, which seems to be all the rage on some of your blogs these days.

I wondered how she might explain a nice hicky to her very proper Mother later in the day, when she came by for our Watch party. 

Maybe next week.

I slid away, urged Mistress to roll over, and reached for her power tool.

“I should probably just make you fast a while, after that wanton behavior yesterday afternoon, Mistress.”

She just gave me one of those faux innocent looks.

“What are you talking about, Slave….”

“You know, getting yourself off under the sheets with the WC while I was downstairs, replacing light bulbs.”

“Oh …. You know how he is Slave…. He can get very insistent.”

No doubt.

Suffice it to say that Slave did not impose a power tool embargo. Mistress got two or three of those orgasms she likes, all the while complaining about how ahrd it was to come with her ankles bound.

“”That’s the point Mistress, you have to work for it.”

And she did forget to ask for permission the first time. That’s something to mark down for next Sunday.

When she seemed to have exhausted herself against the little churning bulb, I figured it was time to claim my reward. Her ankles were freed, but her  arms were still bound overhead as I slid into her.

“Sorry I can’t help you Slave….”, she murmured as my firm cock probed for the proper entry point.

“Don’t worry your little head about it Mistress, I am happy to help myself.”

Mistress Gets "Busted", As America Counts Down to Super Bowl

It’s not yet dawn here in River City on Super Sunday, the secular holy day that has been created in my own lifetime. I am old enough to remember the tedious match up in a semi-full stadium between these same Packers and the Kansas City Chiefs back in January 1967, when I was a Junior in High School.

Who da thunk the media hype machine could turn it into something so ludicrously important that our part of the world comes to a screeching halt to pay homage to these gods in their tight pants and helmets, doing their victory dances. Don’t you wonder what the circus will be like 100 years from now? Will it be bigger than Christmas?

And do you think the folks on Tahrir Square will make sure they have big TV screens so they can follow our gladiators as they take the field tonight? …. I’m thinking they have more important things in mind.

The most bizarre data reported this week was not about the Packers chances of winning when they can complete more than two 30 yard pass plays in a game, but that the mortality rate from heart attacks and strokes in the City that loses the Super Bowl is likely to spike this week in the range of 15-20%. And, strangely, more for women than for men.Super Bowl Hazardous to Your Health

So for those of us who root for teams like the underachieving Patriots, the rebuilding Broncos, or the perpetually sad Bengals, there is a bright side. You and your loved ones are less likely to die this week than if we were in Green Bay or Pittsburgh.

That’s not to say we won’t be glued to the TV here at the UCTMW World HQ tonight with a motley group of our vanilla friends, feasting on Mistress’s chili and quaffing beer, wine and tequila.

Who can resist the spectacle?

But wouldn’t it be so much more fun to have a sex bloggers watch party.

In particular, we’d like to watch Suzanne squirm as the dreaded Stillers take the lead in the 4th quarter, as their battle hardened big game focus kicks in. She really does have her Ass on the line. She has tied the fate of her virgin orifice to the Packers this evening, and we have used satellite imagery to capture this photo of what seems to be her, prepping for game time.

Good luck, Suzanne! Will Tammy be wearing a cheesehead to go with his maid’s outfit? (actually milk maid wear would be particularly choice for this occasion).

You certainly look better than some of the fans of the dreaded Stillers, with the quaterback who can’t seem to keep his fly up.

And speaking of Asses, we are winding down our Ass Week festivities here today. Actually, we’ve probably hit bottom on this particular promotion.

Not that we don’t have an unlimited quantity of lovely ass shots from Mistress, the one above being another excellent example.

But there was one photo op I missed yesterday.

We had been out with our Surly teen #2, at a meeting to explore options for some overseas study for her next school year. When we returned home, it seemed like a good time for a “nap”, and Slave and Mistress headed to our chambers. But not long after we were settling into bed, Mistress’s I-phone chimed.

“It’s M, Slave… he wants me to call.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

They talked a bit as I perused the Times next to her. But then there was a page from one of the teens. They needed some help, and Slave was volunteered to provide it.

“Come back soon, Slave.”

Well, as it turns out, I came back a bit too soon.

About 15 minutes later, I opened out bedroom door, to find the “shocking” image if Mistress curled up under the covers, moaning ever so softly as she mumbled smutty endearments into the phone. And there was the tell tale hum of the Hitachi providing a little background thrum.

She was so focused on her wanton activity that she did not notice my intrusion.

I could have grabbed my camera, and photographed her, but then all that would have been seen was a body sized lump cowering under our blue comforter.

Nothing to see here, I suppose. But there was plenty to hear. And smell.

Instead, like a good Slave, I decided to give Mistress a bit more privacy and close the door quietly.

About 15 minutes later I was paged…..

“Mick…. Come back up stairs.”

She was a tad embarrassed when I explain how she had been “busted”.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Oh… maybe 3 Slave.”

With all that activity Mistress seemed sated , so it really was nap time. Happily, Slave got his opportunity after a nice snooze, before we headed to dinner with some friends.

Later, after dinner, we came home planning to cuddle up for some sleep. But first we discovered the clever interplay between our Southern and Western Correspondents over the WC’s apparent inability to engineer a proper ass shot. (They are in the comments to yesterday’s blog, so check them out).

“But he’s offered up a cock photo, Mistress, in lieu of the Ass shot?”

She was not amused.

“That’s a terrible idea, Slave.”

Mistress is very sensitive about the notion of our WC offering up his special occasion equipment for more public inspection.

AS it turned out, M was available by phone, and Mistress dialed him up.

I got to listen in on her part of the talk, which was …. Cute.

“M, I really don’t like the idea of you advertising that cock of yours….”

“Ask him what type of blog he thinks we are, Mistress…. I mean, we do have some standards! “

Mistress laughed, passed this on. M seemed to be getting the point. In the meantime, she was ordering me around a bit.

“Slave, please pull off my boots and stick them in that box in the closet. I can’t hold the phone and do that too.”

I did as directed, as Mistress lay back on the bed, dressing down our WC in a honeyed tone.

“You know, M, If our female readers get a look at it, the next thing you know you will have a whole stable competing for the chance to inspect it first hand.”

He seemed to be getting her point, and I was getting more directions.

“Slave, now unzip my pants, slide them off, and fold them nicely.”

She indicated where her black pants should be stored, as she chatted on.

Well we weren’t planning any more “activity”, but all this talk about cocks and her firm and directive matter naturally brought me to her knees, face sliding up those warm inner thighs.

“You can imagine what’s happening here now, M…. he’s down on his knees like a good Slave.”

And I was, sliding aside the panel of her lacy maroon thong. Inhaling that musky aroma that drives this Slave to distraction, and getting to work.

Soon M was doing his bit, and Mistress was moaning in that slutty way, “Yes…. M. No…. M….. I would, M.”

Her thighs squeezed my head tightly as she came with a sudden shudder, head thrown back on the bed. Suddenly her concerns about M flaunting the special occasion cock were put to bed.

And not long after, so were we.

Special Collector's Edition: The Asses of UCTMW.

As we build to a crescendo here at UCTMW for our special  week long ass-travaganza, we bring you a collection of asses from our burgeoning staff.

First and foremost, (see, I have learned my lesson), we have Mistress, who posed in my office yesterday afternoon. She stopped by for some post-lunch worship, striding in with those black tights and boots that have become a fashion signature.

“How was your lunch, Mistress?”

I closed the door behind her, reaching for the chair that would slide up against it, providing our only security from prying eyes or intruding colleagues.

“Good Slave…. I think C (her female lunch mate, who is an out of the closet lesbian) has a bit of a crush on me….”

“Who can blame her, Mistress”.

By now the maroon blanket is spread across the chair, and Mistress is seated, sliding off one boot and pealing off one leg of her tights.

Mistress has, on occasion dallied with female companions, but, as she said to the last one she found her self in bed with, “I really do need a good cock ….”

By now I was on my knees, beginning to dig in.

“And then I saw L, who was there having lunch with some other guy.”

L is a local corporate lion, who has shown some … interest ….in Mistress over the years.

“Did he flirt, Mistress?”

“You could call it that. He said we needed to have lunch soon. I gave him my card. “

He is definitely a prospect, either as a client, or….. maybe both.

All of this chitchat gets both of our motors running, and Mistress’s legs were now spread, her juices slickening my face. It was not long before her hips were rising off her chair, and her leg was wrapped around my neck as she came for me with a stifled moan.

I let her rest a bit, but did not move, and soon my mouth was back at work, providing a little bonus orgasm before she headed back to her desk, just two blocks south of mine.

It is a convenient arrangement, when you think of it.

But before she rearranged her outfit, I asked for a photo op.

“How about an ass shot, leaning across my desk.”

As you can see, she was very accommodating. And I was sorely tempted to take advantage by loosening my belt and dropping trou.  But there are limits to my madness at work. Believe it or not.

I did text the shot off to our Western Correspondent, wit the caption “Office Ass”.

He promptly responded, “That’s taunting.”

Fortunately, it did not cost me 15 yards.

After Mistress headed back to work, I noticed an email from Donna, our Southern Correspondent.  She contributed the following shot, sporting red in line with the day’s theme over at All Mine, and among the media. (Mistress had not gotten that memo).  As she noted, this is an excellent specimen for a woman just past 50, don’t you all think?

Last evening, long before deadline, she sent another contribution, selected by her hubbie Bill, who is known for occasional corporal punishment. (Donna- we need a dispatch on that subject from you!)  “Bill says this is his favorite butt shot … taken from his collection.”

I will let our readers decide which one they prefer.

Well that left only your Editor and our Western Correspondent unaccounted for on this UCTMW ass line-up. You all have seen mine several times before, but here is one from the annals:

Yesterday, as I was planning the layout for today’s issue, I made a simple request to our WC for a shot of his Ass to include in our “ASS WEEK” special edition.

Well I awoke here in River City, opened the email, and lo and behold …. Nada. The WC is doing his best to live up the  journalistic malpractice of his hero, Dr. Hunter S, Thompson, who never met a deadline he could meet. No doubt he is still on his extended leave, nursing his frozen cock back to lifel

Fortunately, I do have resources. I trolled through the video of the surveillance cameras installed outside our Mountain Time branch office and came up with this alluring shot. Could this be our WC, resting after one of those legendary bike rides?

Since we have never actually met, M, I can only assume that this “baggage” belongs to him, though I suppose this fellow could be a ghostwriter M has buried on his expense account, to keep the office humming while he focuses on more important thing, like the care and feeding of that legendary special occasion cock.

Whoever, just don’t try on a tool belt!