My Funny Valentine

It certainly was very nice to have Mistress back yesterday. And to be out of that infernal cage.

Not that it was all that annoying … or painful. Just a constant reminder that Slave was…. Well … a Slave. And I suppose I signed up for that duty when I signed the contract, didn’t I?

There was still a good deal of pent up demand percolating down there after (almost) three days of abstinence, so our morning sex, and the resulting orgasm that I was permitted was particularly … explosive.

We had no pressing engagements, so afterwards we both drifted back to sleep for a while, Mistress still catching up from that long and frustrating day on Friday, stuck at LGA.

Then I was off for some play time with my cute grandson. When he was returned at nap time, Mistress and Slave had a nice bracing bike ride here in the neighborhood, as the temperature finally climbed into the 40’s.

Then… I know this comes as a big surprise …. It was back to bed. Mistress had told me what was in store earlier in the day.

“You were such a good Slave this week, I’m going to fuck you in the ass as a reward.”

Funny. I do see it as a reward now.

She reminded me that her first deployment of the strap-on was on Valentine’s Day two years ago. It was before we conceived of the contract, or blogging about it… we had only been back together full time here in River City for about 6 weeks.

But our exploration of putting Mistress in more of a “management” position when it came to our sex lives had been percolating for 6 months or so.

It’s hard to recall how and when the notion of her taking me this way first came up…. No doubt Mistress can fill in the blanks…. She has a very good memory for such things. But as I recall it, her interest was piqued by perusing one of those kinky “Stockroom” catalogs that came in the mail.

“Don’t you think that would make a good Valentine’s Day present?”

Gulp. But I got the picture. And I was enjoying giving Mistress rope….

We planned to make a night of it. We packed a picnic. And Mistress packed some very sexy lingerie … stockings, garter belt and all. The venue was our charming little city home (It’s rented out now), which still had a bed and some other basic furnishings. It made a nice little hideaway from the eyes and ears of our teens.

When the ceremonial loss of my back door virginity was completed, the nature of our relationship shifted a bit more in the direction where we find ourselves today.

Flashing forward, back in our bedroom, on a Saturday afternoon..

“Get out my supplies, Slave….”

Once her harness was buckled into place, Mistress slid into bed next to me, embarking on some extended “make out” time. The kissing and her roving fingers made sure that my newly liberated cock was fully activated before the main course.

“Time to get into position, Slave …. No spanking today, since you’ve been so good this week.”

Appreciative, I rolled over for her, sliding a pillow under my hips to make the anle just right for her.

And soon she was sliding firmly into me, gently at first, then with considerable gusto. It’s an experience that still is hard to describe. But there is nothing like the feeling of my commanding Mistress filling me that way, and absorbing her own spasms as she comes with abandon as she pumps into me.

By the time she was done with me, her Slave was in a zone. I felt her pull out, heard her shed the harness. And pulled myself off the bed when she said “go insert your device Slave….”.

Then I was allowed to take her in the conventional way, making sure she had at least one more orgasm before I came with her permission.

“I think you liked that, Slave…..”

No doubt.

We dozed a bit, before dressing for our dinner date.

This was our little V Day celebration. Dinner at a classy restaurant, one of our favorite venues, with sweeping views of the sparking lights of River City.

There’s been some discussion on the blogs this week about the significance of Valentine’s Day. And I agree it’s a bit of a commercial scam. But we’ve always used it as a good excuse for some private time to remind ourselves of the importance of our relationship. For us it comes about 6 months before and after our anniversary in July…(now contract renewal day too). So we spent the evening, over dinner, talking about where we’ve been, how far we’ve come and our plans for the future, when the nest here is empty.

A good chance to take stock in a romantic room, with good wine and food.

And don’t think we did not cover you too, WC.

Mistress reported some unusual silence yesterday from our branch office out West.

“He spent the day in bed, he says…. Maybe the flu?”

“Let’s hope it’s not complications from that frozen cock, Mistress.”

Readers, please send your thoughts and prayers to our WC in his hour of suffering. Let’s hope he recovers soon. We miss his contributions here, just as Mistress misses his seductive and commanding voice.

But when desert was finished, and as we were making the transition from restaurant to the bar next door, Mistress got a text.

“M wants to know if I can talk for a minute, slave. Do you mind?”

“Of course not, Mistress.”

As Mistress chatted a bit, I sat on a comfy leather couch, sipping my Jamieson and watching the diverse crowd –ranging from elderly blue hairs to lesbian elected officials – swaying on the dance floor to a jazz combo and a smooth singer channeling Sinatra.

Lovely.

And soon Mistress was returning to me. I enjoyed watching her enter the room, elegant in a subtly colorful multilayered dress, her black boots and tights, turning heads as she approached me. I think the ancient couple next to us were stunned that this sexy lady elected to sit next to the older guy with the missing hair.



I handed her an Amaretto, the soft lights turning the concoction a shimmering gold.

“So how is he, Mistress….”

“Still under the weather, Slave. I told him about fucking you in the ass today. That seemed to get him going….”

“I’m sure he’d enjoy that, Mistress…. But maybe you’d need a bigger faux cock for him, if only to keep things in scale….”

We enjoyed cuddling against one another, ogling the  crowd, and then slid onto the dance floor for the moon songs….you know…”Fly Me to ….” And “How High….” (There are some links to share the mood).


And before heading home for the evening, we had the chance to sway and hold one another close as the singer crooned “My Funny Valentine”.

Once again, I was with the most beautiful woman in the room. And I was in (almost) full agreement with the lyrics, particularly this part:

“Don’t change a hair for me.

Not if you care for me.

Stay little Valentine, Stay.

Each Day is Valentine’s Day.”

I am a very lucky Slave to have such a lovely Valentine.

But just for the record, her looks are hardly laughable, and her figure is no less than Greek.

"Free at Last"

A few years ago, when Mistress was doing her corporate gig, her perky and devoted staff gave her this little tricked out Barbie doll, all made up, dressed and accessorized to capture her image and likeness, as “Mo-Jo” - the stylish action hero in their world. It’s probably the only full body image you will get of her here on UCTMW, at least until we retire, sign our book deal, and the kids move to a foreign land without internet service.

It captures Mistress as her hard charging, resourceful self.  The type that can do anything Don Draper could, but backward, in high heels and black peek-abo tights.

 Yesterday Molly was in full “action hero” mode, strutting around Gotham, coping with a  cancelled flight, operating her remote office out of the airline’s business lounge, but still able to stay in touch with her Slave and our Western Correspondent as well. And of course, she was able to squeeze a little time in with her favorite power tool. (No, not at the airport lounge).

When I learned of her delay, I offered to take the surly teens to a movie. But of course the last thing they wanted to do on a Friday night was be seen at the local multi-plex with some old balding white guy.

I offered to do my best Michael Caine imitation, but they passed.

So I was solo, and decided to head to our gym. I figured 50 minutes on the bike, watching history unfold across 5 news networks on the screen arrayed before me, all focused on the jubilant streets of Cairo, was the next best thing to the romantic evening we had planned.

But then I forgot about the inconvenience my steel cage might impose in the locker room.

Yikes. How to explain that to the suburban fuddy duddies ? A new  style of   “Resistance Training”.?

As it turned out, I was able to keep my towel draped or back turned just enough to protect my privates’ privacy …. Not so terrible. And the bike I chose seemed to accommodate that big lump of steel wrapped around my cock and balls without too much discomfort..

I passed the rest of the evening reading the paper, picking up some wine, making a sandwich for dinner.

Finally at around 11:45 pm Mistress pulled into the driveway, surprisingly alert after her very long and challenging day.

And fortunately for me, she was not too tired or cranky to spring me loose.

So Cage Week officially ended at around 12:15 am this morning.

Ahhhhh. 

I was very glad that at the UCTMW World HQ on this particular night “the arc of history bent towards freedom”, if not quite as dramatically, as it had in Egypt.

Mistress had “set my member free”.

As far as I was concerned, no rivers needed to be parted as an encore.

“Was it too terrible, Slave….”

She was cupping my balls, inspecting for any damage, with those recently manicured fingers – that was one way to pass the time at LGA .

I was in heaven.  Though my cock was still in that never land it goes after being freed - Still unsure if it was safe to stretch out and enjoy it’s new found freedom.

“To be honest, it was amazingly bearable Mistress. The only real pain was in the middle of the night, when the cock tried to freelance, and ended up too large for a small space.”

Actually, it’s the skin around my balls that hurts when that happens…. They get all swollen down there, and the ring becomes way too tight…. Painfully tight. It takes some clever mind over matter work to get things back to recumbent dimensions.

“So maybe I should follow Suzanne’s example, and keep you in there longer?”

“Would you really want that cage banging up against your ass at night, Mistress?”

“No I suppose that would be uncomfortable, Slave…. I guess I need to save that to a night when there is someone else to share the bed with.”

“Like Suzanne and Jay?”

“Exactly.”

Mistress was in the mood to talk about some interesting folks she had met at her meetings. And I was happy to listen. But I can multi-task.  Soon I was down beneath the sheets, digging into those damp folds, celebrating the tastes and aromas and textures I had missed.

And at some point, her stories petered out, so to speak, and she settled back, letting me use my highly trained lips and tongue to jolt her into a nice little warm up cum.

           

“Let me suck it, Slave….”

“You don’t have to bend my arm, Mistress.”

I lay back, enjoying her attentions. And that finally made my cock realize that it was safe to come out and play.

Soon I was begging for permission to fuck my own personal action hero.

And, despite the late hour and her busy day, she definitely made the time to fit me in her schedule.

“Free at last, free at last….”

schedule.

Slave Seeks Distractions as Cage Week Continues, and goes into Overtime

 BREAKING NEWS:  To drag our Slave's torment, Mistress's plane home was canceled. Now she's at LGA (literally) cooling her heels. In other words, she's getting her feet done.

Oh, BTW, that Hosni guy has finally gotten the memo and gone to his palace at the beach. I guess it took a while for him to empty his wine cellar and the national treasury.  Things were beginning to sound like a modern day reprise of "Marvin K. Mooney Will you Please Go Now." Only in funny characters.

Now, back to our regular programming... or this morning's post:



It’s day two of Mistress’s trip to Gotham City. And she seems to be having a good time.

After a walk along cold but charming downtown streets, she headed back to her hotel for a 10 am “conference call” with our WC. That’s why she had to risk embarrassment with the TSA by toting along her power tool. It was a command performance.

And after their talk she checked in with me.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Only three, Slave.”

Hmmm. Not bad, and it was still before noon. Hope they made some progress on that strategic plan.

She was in the City for a Board meeting that started at 1 pm, so after the Hitachi was tucked away, Mistress spent a little more time poking around Soho.

She snapped and forwarded some shots at Kiki de Montparnase, a very pricey, beautifully furnished emporium on Greene St., chock full of lingerie and various instruments of kinky pleasure. We bought our crystal cock there a few years back, in our pre-contract days.

“I’ll bet our readers will like the gold plated butt plugs and handcuffs, Slave.”

She’s sort of like Jimmy Olson, passing his photos onto Perry White for the morning edition. And I guess I’m lucky that the WC was not along on this field trip, or those gold plated butt plugs and cuffs would probably have ended up on his UCTMW expense account.

I did play a bit of a dirty trick on Mistress though. By around 1:30 pm I knew that Mistress would be settled into her meeting, around a table with some big hitters from the world of art and business. I suspected her I-phone would be at the ready, but set on vibrate. That’s when I dropped my pants, snapped a shot of my poor caged cock, and texted it off to her.

“OMG” was the response I got.

I suppose that will earn me a punishment. But it was worth it.

As for me, my “adventures” in River City were a bit more mundane. A day at the office. Meeting with a falsely accused client. Then home to prepare dinner for the kids. I did enjoy your comments today, though it doesn’t seem I’m getting a whole lot of sympathy during “cage week”. And I'm honored that one of our lurkers emerged to note she has named her Hitachi "Mick". It's good to be a role model, even for an  appliance.

Those readers who are on lock down for multi-day sentences on a regular basis (and the women who hold the keys) have good reason to be less than sympathetic. After all, Mick is usually indulged to the extreme by his beloved Mistress. Twice a day is the norm. Now that may not compare to the exploits of the WC and his special occasion cock (even during rehab), but for a 60 year old …. Heck, I’m a lucky guy.

So two plus days without an orgasm should not be too grievous a sentence, should it? For the most part, I can ignore my cruel plight. Except….


In the middle of the night, when one wakes up with a start to the rather excruciating feeling of one’s cock, stretching out for no apparent reason, attempting a frolic and detour of its own, then banging hard against those metal barriers.

Youch.

That’s when that tight ring chokes down hard on those swelling balls.

I swear I was dreaming that if I could just break down the facts of a particularly baffling antitrust case, the pain racking my cock and balls would go away. But I couldn’t get my brain around it. Yhe "ouch" was too distracting. That ‘s when I woke up.

I suppose if they ever want to make a kinky version of Inception, that could be one of the plot lines.

So tonight, I’ve been particularly careful to suppress thoughts and images that might stimulate any further erotic dreaming once I settle in, and replace them with unsexy distractions. Here is my:

TOP TEN UNSEXY DISTRACTIONS WHEN IN A COCK CAGE:

10. Listening to the aging Digger Phelps bicker with his even older nemesis Bobby Knight, during an ESPNU B-Ball Broadcast. More proof that “only the good die young”.

9. Winnowing unknown Facebook friends and uninteresting Twitter followees. Who are these people?

8. Watching this very funny video passed on by Donna, our Southern Correspondent. It’s about sex, but not sexy sex. Brushing your teeth as foreplay? Business Time

7. Video snippets of a Donald Trump’s campaign speech at C-PAC. If this guy runs for President, the Secret Service will need a separate code name for his lid.

5. Trolling the internet to unearth our WC’s social security number, so UCTMW can send him a W-9 statement for his bloated salary and unsupportable expense reimbursements.

4. Watching re-runs of Michele Bachmann’s State of the Union rebuttal. Nice make up for those lazy eyes.

3. Learning more about the Spanish Armada on Wikipedia.

2. Rachel Maddow.

1. This photo, also forwarded by our Southern Correspondent, which should make my cock shrivel and hide until Mistress is safely home Friday evening.

Move On. Nothing to See Here.

Mistress is off, running footloose and fancy free in the big city.  Meanwhile, her devoted Slave is on lockdown, here in our little backwater on the River.

And Cage week continues. It’s not nearly as much fun as “Ass Week”, is it?

It was an early rise here.

Molly had a client presentation before heading to the airport. I made sure she had a pleasing little shower cum, sliding my fingers through those wet folds as the warm water ran down both of us. Then she got another bonus cum, from avid lips and tongue, as she moisturized and read the blog.

But, alas, there was no time for fucking.

“Glad you remembered to put the ring on, Slave….”

After I slid the cage in place, mating it with the ring, she snapped the little lock shut.

Then she hid away the key.

At around 11:30 am, Mistress did have a chance to stop by the office for some worship and a quick lunch before she was on her way.

WC,  you will be surprised to learn she has her tricked out tights on for her trip.

Of course, that made worship rather easy for me. All she needed to do was sit down and spread those lovely, muscular thighs. 

But I wondered what she might be up to in the Big City.

So accessible.

So available.

AS I did my work, Mistress snapped a photo of her boots stretched over my shoulders.

And then she surprised me.

“Stay there Slave…. And lower your pants. I want to see the cage….”

Did she think I had played Houdini on her? After all, she hid the key.

I loosened my belt. Dropped Trou.

“Underwear down too, Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Without any warning, if only to allow some gut sucking, she snapped another shot.

“I want to see this on the blog tomorrow, Slave…..”

Gulp.

Not the sort of alluring imagery our readers are accustomed to. Not at all.

But who was I too say “no”.

“Of course, Mistress.”

So there you have me…. errr …. It.

If I knew this was going to be a photo shoot, I would have done some “man-scaping”, as the little bald dork on Californication would put it.

As she waited for her plane, Mistress did share a funny little story.

Our Western Correspondent had directed Mistress to bring along her trusty Hitachi. No doubt they plan some important conference calls to discuss UCTMW’s bold expansion strategy while she is on the road.

But Mistress had only brought a carry on.

“They opened my bag, Slave.  Asked If I had something big and cylindrical in there….”

It turned out that what they were looking  for was an aerosol can.

But “There was my Hitachi, for everyone to see….it was kind of embarrassing, Slave.”

Awww.

Poor Mistress.

In the meantime, Slave is home. Still on lockdown. And have discovered new things about the physics of a hard tight steel ring locked around the male testes and penis.

When the temperature is in the teens…. Things can get a little ouchy.

The natural response to cold weather is for those little ovoid guys to beat a hasty retreat into those warm cavities just above. Supposedly those little shelters keep your sperm nice and warm in the event they need to be mobilized at the drop of an available woman’s panties.

But when there is a hard steel ring in the way…. well …. Things don’t go the way nature intended.  Skin contracts, balls swell and press against the cruel steel barrier. When they can’t get through to their little hiding places, they get angry.

Youch.

The next time Mistress leaves town, let’s hope that spring has long since sprung.