The Tables Turn Fast

Wow. Slave slept in a bit longer than normal today…. So let’s catch up fast.

Sunday, of course, is our switch day. And Mistress played her normal, coy, “you don’t plan to tie me up and torture me with too many orgasms routine” when it was time to put down the morning paper and submit to my plans.

“But Slave, it’s so cold and I feel so warm and cozy under these blankets….”

Yeah. We’ve heard this line before, so it was a bit of  a struggle to cuff her wrists with those comfy leather binders, lock them together, then fix them overhead to the eye-screw in our bed. 

Then her ankles were bound with a leather gizmo made for just that purpose.  Soon she was on her belly, and I took a few moments to shoot this picture for you to admire. 

Tight ass, huh?

In any event, since the surly teen was already stalking the hallways, coughing up a storm with the remnant of her unending flu, we had to be somewhat low key.  Rest assured Mistress got a nice firm, butt reddening spanking before I deployed the power tool from behind, between those lovely thighs.

She built herself up to what was going to be a nice rockin’ cum, then asked permission like a nice little subbie, but I decided to throw a curve ball….

Suddenly the power tool was off….

“Hey…. Slave….. why’d you do that…. I was almost there…..”

“Hmmm …. Maybe there was a power failure?”

“Then why is the music still on…. Asshole….”

“Oops…..”

“Why don’t you roll over Mistress….”

She struggled, but made it over onto back, her face was a bit red from the exertion, all that muscle flexing against the bed, trying the make a little more room for the churning device.

I actually felt bad for the little desperate thing, so I thumbed the Hitachi back on, and began to gently rub it where she likes, then pressed it home with a bit more force as her hips began rising up to meet it.

Soon she was coming with a nice heaving moan of contentment, her legs, still bound at the ankles, heaving and squirming as if to embrace the little but very effective tool.

Her head was back, her voice desperate, “why don’t you fuck me now, Slave….”

 Was happy to oblige, and required no further encouragement (or assistance), so once her ankles were released, and I slid off the sexy black thing, rather sticky and fragrant I might add, I was happy to exercise my privilege….

Of course, I made sure that Mistress had at least one more memorable orgasm before I asked for my own permission, which she seemed happy to grant.

Now, flash forward a few hours. We lolled in bed a bit longer, then went for a long bike ride, up and down the hills of our quaint little village.  The air was a bit chilly, but at least the rain had stopped. 

I had a few minutes to shower, then take the surly teen to an SAT prep session, and visit my aging and cranky Mom.

There was just time for a quick lunch.

In the kitchen, I noticed Mistress preparing her own breakfast / lunch.

A nice big bowl of my leftover apple crisp, crowned with a  big scoop of mocha chip ice cream.

This is when a prudent man, particularly of the slavish sort, keeps his mouth shut.

But maybe I was a bit too heady after our morning switch-ercise.

“Hmmm…. That looks like a healthy breakfast, Mistress.”

It was as if I insulted her first born.

She gave me a very stern look. 

“SLAVE… (she pronounced that word in it’s most demeaning and authoritative way)… I think you need to be in your cage as you go about your afternoon duties…. Go put it on right now….”

Argh…. But I was not going to argue.

‘Yes, Mistress…. I went to retrieve it,  struggled a bit to mush everything into its proper position, and fitted in the little lock for her to snap shut.

But when I came back down to the office, surly teen 2 was there… so there could be no official locking ceremony.  Before taking her to her class, I had to slide into a bathroom and snap the lock shut myself.

Mistress gave me a little hug goodbye, a discrete hand feeling my crotch for that telltale lump of hardened steel (no, don’t let your mind wander on that one). Confirming that all was in place, she whispered into my ear.

“Slave…. I hope this teaches you a lesson…. I want you to take a picture for me once you drop the teen off….”

So there I was, yesterday afternoon, after visiting my mother,  at my quiet office to catch up on some work, my jeans at my ankles, a snapping picture for Mistress of that caged cock.

I texted it off to her….

“Happy?”, was my short message.

A few moments later my phone beeped.  

“Very Happy , Slave…..”

In the Shadow of Rob Lowe

Mistress  enjoyed her  CEO Appreciation Day.

And your comments were very fulfilling for her. She likes being thought of as the benign and benevolent authority here at UCTMW.

But Sin, do you really think it was creepy for me to hover just a little too closely to her in those months before  she acknowledged that my unspoken but probably apparent attraction to her was mutual?

In any event, if my behavior was sordid, in my defense, I can only say it was really out of my control. I was completely smitten.

As you might expect, once Molly decided she was going to call my bluff, she was quite direct about it. And me, well, then I was the one scared semi-shitless. But that is a different story.

Suffice it to say that by the summer of 1988, we were torridly involved with one another, doing our best to cover our tracks. One prime scene of our serial crimes was at the Democratic Convention that summer in Atlanta. Mistress had a room at a romantic B and B near a leafy park off of Peachtree Ave.  Mine was in a plastic high rise hotel near the convention center.

But for most of that week – in between sessions where the theme song was that old Neil Diamond song "Coming to America"”, there was a whole lot of very sweaty coming , and coming , and coming in Molly’s sodden B and  B bed. Combine the sultry summer Georgia air, and a room with minimal AC ... well, lots of hydration and new sheets were required to keep us going.

Rob Lowe in bed with some teenager was the scandal of that Convention. (sex tape scandals).We can only be thankful that the absence of cell phones and the higher tech accoutrements of this modern era allowed Molly and Mick to keep their torrid romance below the radar screen all through the great battle royale that was the 1988 Presidential campaign.

For now, let’s just say that Mistress responded well yesterday morning to my homage to her magnetic sexual appeal to me back in 1987-88. She is a sucker for my romantic tributes, so accuse me of being manipulative all you want, but isn’t that a primary reason we started this blog?

As a form of early morning foreplay for both of us?

You would be surprised how often it works exactly that way.

When I went upstairs yesterday morning, and handed her the computer, it wasn’t long before she was digging into my prosaic flashback. And my face was buried between those musky clean shaven folds.

And when she was done – with a little sigh of appreciation – her legs spread a bit wider and her hips rose up to meet my questing tongue. Soon she was writhing as I took her over the top.

Once Mistress had her little starter O, her hands reached for my cock and brought it to full attention for the main course.

Rest assured, Mick was quite satisfied before our morning encounter was done.

It was a pretty busy day for us after that. Mistress was off to some hair and nail appointments with the elder surly teen. I spent a good chunk of the day with my cute grandson.

But Mistress was still in command of her empire later last night when we enjoyed dinner with some friends. We were standing in their large suburban kitchen, the main part of the meal done, and getting ready for desert.

While watching the grandson, I had made some of my apple crisp, something Mistress can enjoy, despite a wheat allergy. And as our hostess dished out the crisp, Mistress handed be her nearly empty wine glass.

“Get me some more wine, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I’m still wondering if our friends heard that little exchange.

CEO Appreciation Day

Yesterday, Mistress had a bad day.

Lot’s of tasks, all crowding each other out.

She was feeling the lack of exercise, so took off on an early am bike ride, even as a light and chilly rain was falling, at around 8 am, as I headed to my office.

One daughter was still fighting a flu, now turned into a nasty cough. She needed to visit the MD again, and though she could have driven herself, well, Mistress felt obligated to go along and make sure she understood what the prescribed treatment might be.  Not necessary, but a Mom thing. And I’m sure the surly teen appreciated her concern and presence.

After the doctor’s visit, and picking up medication and more Gatorade, she rushed  to a lunch meeting with an important and high maintenance client (who happens to be a lesbian, with a bit of a crush on Mistress). 

As it turned out, by happenstance I had picked the same lunch spot to meet some clients of my own, so I got to see Mistress with her shorter, somewhat older, but sort of moon eyed friend as they chatted over lunch.

Cute. And of course, whenever Mistress gets to say hello to my clients (these were two females) they always give her the admiring eye, as in “hmmmm….. what does old Mick have going that this hot young thing is with her?

Then Mistress was heading back home, juggling another client’s crisis via phone, while escorting the sick surly teen to get a passport she will need before an overseas trip in the fall.

And that early 5 am sex, well it sure was hot, but I think it had us both a bit exhausted as the day progressed.

As she said to me later in the day. “sometimes it seems impossible to be parents and also do this two career thing!”. No doubt.  It’s something that has been a challenge for us, but particularly for her, for all these years. Mistress  refuses to do anything, particularly parenting, half way.

It may well be – with that teen’s foreign trip come the fall – that we will actually have the proverbial empty nest in a few months, a year before anticipated.

And of course, there are some huge upsides to that. Time together … free range of the house for all that kinky stuff.  We can even invite some of our blogger friends over for a visit …. Come on up, Aisha, and bring MoR with you if he comes for a visit!

And of course our Far flung management team will be  welcome too.

But it will also be odd. We sure will miss the upside of these surly critters and their (every now and then) charms.

It did get me thinking about Molly and Mick’s “secret origins” though. Something we’ve not spoken much about on these pages.

Although it’s quite possible we ran into one another earlier – having lived in the same town and gone to many of the same events – the age difference may have caused us to pass like two trains in the night.

(I often wonder whether Molly ever sold me skis or equipment at a ski store she worked at in her high school years, where I took my older daughters to get their first ski paraphernalia).

When Mistress first popped up on my radar it was about 23 years ago, in the fall of 1987, at a local political dinner. I was 37. She was only 24 or so. And of course she was a vision. Surprisingly stylish in a typically frumpy River City crowd, with a short designer-ish dress, that long beautiful hair, a sparkle in her eye. 

She jumped out of the room at me.

I think I remember her introducing herself to me as we talked in a group. She was on the staff of a state elected official who has gone on to do bigger things in DC by now.

And I recall complimenting her on her outfit….and offering to walk her to her car afterwards.

Yeah, forward, I know, for a married guy. Then again she was married too.

She passed on my offer, by the way. She told me later that I had a "reputation".  Probably true. and for good reason.

A week or so ago, someone blogged about the impact of touch as a relationship develops. And as the months passed, as we came to know one another better, and work together on  the ill fated Presidential campaign of a certain short Greek Governor, well, I found it was very hard not to touch Molly….

Nothing gross or sexual of course.

I was not the type of guy who would come out and say…. “hey…. I’m amazingly attracted to you…. Do you mind if I kiss you?”

That would be wrong.  Not the way a bashful Irish Catholic guy would operate, if your last name was not “Kennedy”, that is. I guess I had always been the type who was a little too chicken to make the first “move” with a woman.

But, I seemed to find  myself touching Molly’s arm, very lightly as we talked. And I remember a scene in our campaign office. She was working at a table, compiling a list maybe. Other folks were around, everyone talking about our primary plans. I was standing behind Molly.

And I realized I was rubbing her neck with my fingers…..

Argggh.  Of course, once my brain caught up with my fingers, I stepped back, hoping that no one else noticed.

Though I suspect Molly did.

For me, she was just-  literally -  irresistible.

There was another evening, the night before the primary. We were out late, driving around the city with some friends, stapling signs to phone polls near polling locations. I was driving, and when our assignment was done, around 1 am, I made sure that I dropped Molly off last, in front of her apartment, which was not far from the house I shared with my wife and daughters.

I stepped out of the car, walked her to her door.  At least for me, the sexual tension was palpable. Hormones and politics are a heady mix, even when the candidate is a short Greek guy….

It’s probably the closest I ever came to taking a liberty with Molly without advance consent….. I was desperate to kiss her…. But her signals were …. Ambivalent…

And since it was not clear that I had the green flag, well…..

“I guess we’ll see each other tomorrow, at the Victory Party?”

‘I’m sure we will, Mick”.

Well as Donna said on Thursday, my word count is covered. And I think I hear Mistress waking. Better make sure she gets lots of attention on CEO Appreciation Day. So I will leave you with this period photo rather than finishing this lurid tale.

Employee Recognition Day at UCTMW Enterrpises, LLC

UCTMW ENTERPRISES, LLC

MEMORANDUM

FROM: Mick Collins, Executive Editor


To: All Staff


Re: Employee Recognition Day

On behalf of our CEO, who is languishing in bed this morning, after a busy and demanding 24 hours or so (we will get to that later), I want to extend our thanks and appreciation for your efforts on behalf of UCTMW Enterprises in these last few months.

We have recently hit our 500th blog entry, and we could not have done it without you.

With your help, we have moved in little more than a year from a tiny internet start-up that was little more than a vanity publication with roots in sleepy little River City, to a media empire read world wide (by all of 700 some readers daily) with branch offices in the Mountain West and the hills of North Carolina.

We could not have gotten there alone….I suspect many of our readers would have long since moved on after repetitive stories of oral worship and cock cagings, but for the pithy and clever comments of our staff, and your well researched tutorials on matters such as ass fucking.

Now I am sure some of you might be asking “where’s the cash, Mick?” “What’s in it for us?”

But the CEO has taught me that what really matters to employees, what really gets them up and moving every day to put their nose to the corporate grindstone, is that sense of “fulfillment” and “recognition” for what they contribute.

So …. Drum roll please…. We are unveiling today (glance to the right) our first ever UCTMW masthead …. Identifying each of you as members of our management team.
Hopefully we can expand on that with little bios and avatars…. If you write and create them, of course. Don’t expect old Mick to do all the heavy lifting here!

And WC, you may ask yourself…. “Why am I now listed as part of “management”…. I don’t even have a lowly intern to go fetch me pizza and flash her thong at me….”

Well, as we’ve learned over the years…. If you are a “manager”, you can’t join or form a union, so kiss your pals at the International Brotherhood of Teamsters good bye, and forget about collecting overtime.

Now I know some of you also may be asking “after all our hard work, all we get is a listing on some dumb corporate masthead.”

Well, I know, that may not seem quite enough. After we sharpened our pencils and took a look at cash flow yesterday, your CEO, in her benevolence, agreed to the following incentive package to keep you coming back for more, and to ignore the siren songs of folks like Aisha, who has been encouraging Donna to break away and start her won blog:

• We won’t ask you to take yet another pay cut for at lest the next 6 months.
• We will not hike the percentage you pay for our generous health care package for the next year, though co-pays will now be $50 for each doctor visit.
• We will keep the UCTMW pension plan in place, rather than convert it to a worthless 401(k), though the retirement age will be increased to 75.
• This year mandatory no-pay furloughs will be limited to 1 month (of course we get to pick the month).

Finally, we have something that we know will thrill you and keep you as our loyal and happy employees. Each of you will be granted stock options in UCTMW Enterprises, LLC. Under this generous plan, if the stock price rises by 40% or more each year, you will share in the enormous profits. Of course, there is a small charge for enrollment in the plan. Our accountants will get the paperwork to you in the next few days. We accept Visa or Mastercard.

I wish our CEO had the time to send her personal good wishes to you this morning. But…. Well…. she has had quite a day. There was early morning wake up sex with the assistance of her Executive Editor yesterday morning. I would say with the 2 “prelim” orgasms, and maybe two more as she allowed me to fuck her, well …. That was a nice start.

Then her Slave was required to don his cage, which she locked up tightly.

As I was eating my breakfast, she was off on a nice long morning bike ride. And once she had showered, there was that morning “Editorial conference”, with our WC.

She checked in with me on the way to work.

“How many Mistress?”

“I kind of lost track, Slave…. Maybe 5 or so….”

Yow. A combination of the power tool and M’s seductive voice can be quite potent.

“He was working on a story about a trip to some kinky sex resort in Jamaica….”

I can’t wait until we get the expense account receipts for the research junket M takes for that story.

When we got home after a family dinner celebrating one of the teen’s birthday’s, both of us were dragging. But Mistress made sure she received ample worship in exchange for unlocking that cage.

Then, at around 5 am this morning, I felt her cuddling up close to me. Her hand reached around, and began to toy and tease with my cock, waking me from my slumber.

“Uhhhh…. What’s up Mistress?”

“I’m just making sure my cock is OK, Slave…I like to handle it this way… to remind myself that it’s all mine.”

“Of course it is, Mistress.”

Well you can imagine where this led. Soon I was suckling and squeezing some nipples, and then a finger was exploring her moist and fragrant folds. A

fter she came that way, I was begging for permission to fuck her. And, lucky Slave, she was amenable.

Having been sated once again, Mistress rolled over…. Intent on a little more rest.

“I’m looking forward to the blog this morning, Slave. You have a lot to write about.”

So true.