Mistress's First "Training" Session

Frankly, I’m a little distracted this morning.

I woke up to find more stories about what’s happening in Japan, including video of an explosion at a nuclear power plant.

Shades of Chernobyl.

But if you’ve ever been to Japan – I have a couple of times- you know how densely populated the country is. A series of “dead zones” (they say there are 5 reactors in jeopardy) even for a few years, caused by radioactive leakage could have a profound and crippling impact on that beautiful, if enigmatic country.

Our family has relations in Tokyo. We still have not heard from them. And although I suspect that is because communications are still hampered, it’s becoming quite worrisome for all of us.

We will just have to see how this tragedy unfolds, with hopes that somehow folks on the ground can contain this potentially very dangerous scenario. But it will surely give us all more discomfort about using nuclear technology to feed our energy addiction.

Now, onto our happier things…..you didn’t come here looking for bad news, did you?

Mistress and I were sitting in bed last night.  It was one of those precious Friday nights when there were no plans other than relaxing at home, having one of our “picnics”, and, of course, having sex.

But first we were both – side by side- perusing your blogs and our comments section, both of our laptops out on – what else- our laps.

“Is this a little strange, Slave?”

“You mean the two of us sitting here on a Friday night, scanning the sex blogs before we fuck?”

“I suppose that’s what I meant….”

“Well every couple needs a hobby to keep them busy as they approach their golden years….”

“I suppose….” She was giggling now, if not quite as enthusiastically as she was yesterday morning, as she read Donna’s narrative of our staff meeting as I busily lapped away between her legs.

“I mean some folks go bird watching together, or get into horticulture … we have a sex blog …. What’s odd about that?”

“I suppose it’s pretty normal if you look at it that way … a shared hobby.”

And of course there are side benefits. Like the fact that now Mistress has acquired a personal trainer.

Thursday morning, I was safely locked in my cage, while Mistress stayed home t await her first “session” since our WC was promoted to WC/PT to CEO.  It sounds like he is helping Mistress work out her kinks.

Of course, there was some preparation for the session.  Mistress was placed on strict orgasm lockdown, which she followed much more diligently than the Japanese utility company has been able to do with their power plants.

But M through a curve ball.

“He says I should let you come though, Slave….”

Hmmmm…. I needed some clarification.

“You mean you have the option of letting me come?”

“Actually, I think he meant I have to let you come…”

Well, I must say I was grateful.  I guess this was a “gratuity” from the sometimes cantankerous WC in response to the generous promotion he was accorded. Or I suppose his pals at the Teamsters Union might think of it as a friendly “kick back”. Sort of like a cum that fell off a truck.

So there I was, Thursday morning, the tight ring locked around my cock and balls making it particularly hard, fucking Mistress, but doing my best not to fuck her so well that she would come herself in the process.

It’s all rather counter-intuitive for a Slave programmed with the prime directive of making Mistress happy.

But somehow, or another, I “got her done”. Well, I mean, I got myself done.

Leaving Mistress all primed, if a tad petulant, awaiting that session with M.

‘Sorry Mistress,” I said, as I lay there on her in my post orgasmic contentment, pressing my face against her succulent neck.

“I hope you aren’t too frustrated….”

“You know I’m very frustrated, Slave….”

In fact, her chest seemed still to be heaving a bit. I must say that she displayed admirable self-control.

Later that morning, I was immersed in work, but part of my pervy brain back in that bed, imagining Mistress, her power tool, and the phone propped against her head. Around 11 am I got her call.

“Well, I’m all done, Slave, and now on the way to work….”

She was clearly in a peppier mood than when I had left her, all frustrated, earlier that morning.

“and how did your training go, Mistress?”

“Oh… it was good Slave…. Very good.”

“How many, Mistress?”

“I think at least three Slave….”

"And what was he talking to you about, Mistress?"

"Well.... I remember part of it was sucking his cock in his office, Slave...."

"Sound like you would enjoy that, Mistress...."

"Yes, Slave.... I think I would."

“So you think  M has potential with this new role at UCTMW?”

“Oh he has lot’s of potential, Slave…..”

Monthly UCTMW Staff Meeting... as reported by our Senior Correspondent.

(When I woke yesterday morning, i found this wonderful dispatch from Donna, who has some time on her hands this week in light of flood waters rising to isolate our branch office in the hills of the Great Smokey Mountains. It's always nice to have someone else do the heavy lifting, so old Mick can spend more time lavishing our hardworking CEO with the attention she deserves. Tomorrow I will update you on how Mistress's first personal training session went with the recently promoted WC. Until then, stay dry out there.... and that means you too, Donna! )


Monthly Meeting of all UCTMW Employees

Team Leader for This Month’s Meeting - Senior Correspondent, Donna
“Please finish helping yourself to coffee, tea and the spelt muffins so graciously provided by our beloved CEO, and then be seated.”

*minutes pass* “It’s taking too long people, for Pete’s sake just grab a muffin and come sit down.”

*slowly employees begin to saunter toward the conference table*

“First, I would like to thank Mick for allowing us to meet here in his office and…”

“Molly, would you like to come over here and sit with us? Molly, why are you pushing that chair in front of the door? That’s against fire code regulations and Bill is on the agenda to speak about that very subject a bit later.
Donna looks at clock*

Well, stay there Molly if you really prefer, but we really do need to get moving along.”

“Now, please let me introduce our…”

*sound of closet door opening*

“Molly, we can adjust the thermostat if you’re cold, no need to get that blanket from the closet. Oh, you’re going to sit on the blanket? And drape your legs over the arms of…oh, I see…actually, I’m seeing quite a bit from this vantage point.”

“Molly, you are an amazing professional woman with a beautiful body, an impressive collection of boots and those really are lovely black hose, but I’m not sure everyone at the meeting wants to see...”

*sound of people yelling and stomping their feet* “

Whoa, okay people! No need for violence. My mistake! You do want to see Molly sitting in her favorite chair, and that’s fine, but we absolutely have to get started with our meeting.”

*Donna looks up just in time to see Mick drop to the floor.*

“Mick, did you drop something? Why are you crawling…toward Molly? Mick, we’re trying to have a meeting here! First the WC is a no-show and now you're going to be worshiping Molly during the meeting? We don’t have time to watch...

*more yelling and stomping of feet*

WHAT? DAMN! Okay, I’m mistaken again. Watch if you want, people, but try to at least listen to the reports of the district managers. Mick, please try to keep your slurping and Molly’s orgasmic screaming to a dull roar.”

“And now, Team UCTMW, to finally begin today we will…"

*knocking at door. Donna buries her face in her hands and then turns to Bill.*

“Bill, would you see who is pounding on the door, please? I’m sure if you’ll just pull Molly’s chair out of the way without disturbing the action, Mick will crawl along to stay in position. There you go. I think you can get to the door now.”

*two men enter, one leans over to kiss the CEO and then pats Mick on the back*

“Excellent, the WC has arrived and it appears he has brought a guest. Who is that with you, WC? It’s your brother? *

All butts slam firmly into seats and even Mick sits on his butt on the floor as he scoots closer between Molly’s legs.*

What a pleasant surprise, young man! As you may have noticed, your reputation precedes you. If only you and your magic fingers had been here a bit earlier, perhaps everyone would have been seated and we could have started on time.”

*In a strained voice, Donna begins again.*

“Today we will be working on the expansion plans for...”

*whistling sounds as something flies through the air*

“Bill, honey, please put the knives away. There will be no target practice during my meeting. What’s that? I don’t care if Mick did say it would be fine to use WC’s contract as a target, it’s not. And I can’t concentrate with knives flying past my head like that.”

*Suddenly the sound of beeping noises and odd snatches of The Greatest Hits of the Grateful Dead fill the air as multiple cell phones, IPADs and PDAs in the room ring in unison, signaling the end of the time allotted for the UCTMW monthly meeting. Donna takes a deep breath, shrugs her shoulders, grabs a muffin and joins the rest of the staff in watching Mick finish worshiping the beloved CEO.*

Mistress's Point of View

I suppose it’s fortunate that Mistress stopped by my office yesterday for a quick munch (I did the munching) and lunch, because not long after she was on her way back to her office I got a text from her.

“I’m on orgasm denial until tomorrow morning, Slave….”

That’s when M and Mistress will be having a conference call, their first “training” session since our Western Correspondent acquired his new title as the CEO’s personal trainer.

Hmmm….he’s getting all controlling with her again. Maybe I should not have sent him that text message photo an hour or so earlier from the Slave’s eye view – Mistress with her legs spread, her well shorn parts fully exposed, and that smug look on her face. The message accompanying the photo was “busy day!”.

I responded to Mistress’s text with some faux sympathy, something like “poor mistress”. And she responded with some good, if surprising news:

“He says I’m supposed to service you though, Slave.”

Wow. I guess M liked that promotion I engineered for him This could be a win/win.

Of course there is a bit of a downside with these conference calls. Since I will be heading to work solo this morning, I will be under my own sort of quarantine.

“Remember to put that ring on in the morning when you get up, Slave. You will be allowed to fuck me as long as you don’t make me come…. But then I want you in that cage.”

We do have some bizarre protocols here at UCTMW, don’t we? So now I’m sitting here, my cock and balls gingerly shmushed into that hard steel ring, already anticipating the opportunity to fuck Mistress, but wondering how to get there without taking her along with me. Stay tuned for this sordid tale tomorrow morning.

And speaking of sordid tales, we teased you a bit yesterday with some of our “secret origins” story. Mistress liked being reminded of things from my bumbling perspective. And it provoked her to share a bit of her point of view from those heady days of 1987-88, when our sitting President apparently was already half baked, trying to remember who he traded arms for hostages with, and who the hostages were, for that matter.

Here is Mistress’s POV:

“Since there seems to be some interest in the M/M back story – I determined it was high time to tell it from my POV.

Let’s go back to the fall of 1987. I was a young thing (and yes, married to my first love, but NOT my great love – because that is Mick). I was a staffer for a statewide elected official. I WAS wearing a short black dress (that at the time might have been racy for these parts) and I found myself in a chat with Mick – who was a political force.

Yes, he chatted me up and offered to walk me to my car. I had heard that he was quite the ladies man and I declined.

Then, fast forward to a lunch (a few months later) in which he tried to play footsie with me under the table. I kept my feet firmly on my side.

Then, yes we were both involved with that unremarkable little man from Massachusetts. Yes, Mick had it right; he decided to rub my neck (while we were both at campaign HQ late into the night).

And, yes we spent a late evening removing the opponents’ yard signs in the spring of 1988 and NO he did not kiss me goodnight.

By that point, I was “interested.” I did call his home (ugh) and I did go to meet him at his office. I did lean across his desk and inform him that it might be time to kick this thing up a notch. And, yes he had the audacity to tell me that he had decided to finally be a faithful husband to his long-suffering wife. The tease and CAD!

Somehow, someway we found ourselves at a suburban hotel two nights later. He asked me to bring food. I did: red food – strawberries and licorice.

Friends, we had sex twice and he told me he loved me. On our second “date”, we decided that our first daughter’s name would be Caroline..and – it took a while, but we moved in together in October of 1991…now, all these year’s and kids later – we still have sex twice or so a day…so I guess things worked out, right?

Office Visit Flashback

Mistress has a chance to stop by my office yesterday. It was after lunch, around 2 pm.

I had stayed in during the lunch hour, focused on a project, while listening to our new Governor on the radio, braying in his State of the State Speech about his plans to turn our creaky if earnest old Midwestern state into a shiny mecca like Florida. You know, where, in his narrative, solely  because of low taxes, old, retired  people from our state want to move to places like Naples or Stillwater.  

I mean, if only given the right tax incentive, who wouldn’t want to spend their golden years on the frozen shores of a Great polluted Lake, dodging washed up carp, rather than searching for Sand Dollars on a Gulf  Beach.

Having spent some years down there – no offense to Florida readers – I tend to think of a place where kids go to schools in glorified trailers, there are acres of abandoned strip malls and mold infested, unsold McMansions, and the unemployment rate remains a whopping 12%.

But if you actually have a job, and don’t have kids to educate, I suppose it is nice to pay no state income taxes.

With one side of my brain focused on work, and the other sending out snotty tweets commenting on our Governor’s pompous presumptions, I probably was not in the best of moods when Mistress popped into my office to get her fair share of worship.

But there is something about seeing her breeze into my perch, high above River City that always lifts my spirits.

It’s on the cusp of Spring here, but she had not yet shed her winter costume: black tights and boots, a black jacket, and a black tie-dyeish skirt that settled a few inches above her knees.

And as I filled her in on the Governor’s pronouncements, I was simultaneously closing the door, sliding her throne into place, and spreading the blanket that would soon be absorbing her musky juices.

Her office visit brought to mind how Mistress and I finally broke the ice of our building sexual tension back in 1988, a story I was nipping at in some blogs last week.

It was about a week after our April primary here. For those of you who are political junkies, our candidate, the short former governor of Massachusetts, had eliminated most of the other “Seven Dwarfs” by then, with The Reverend Jackson still hanging on, gathering delegates for his curtain call in Atlanta.

I was undergoing a good bit of Molly withdrawal. My excuse to see her on a daily basis had gone away once the primary votes were counted. And, quite frankly, I had no idea whether she shared my attraction.

Maybe she just saw me as yet another dirty older man pining for her. After all, she was a young 24, and I was an ancient 37.

So I was a little surprised when she called me at home one evening, several days after “victory night” and asked if she could meet me in my office sometime soon.

I figured she wanted some help for her boss, a now prominent politico in his own right, or maybe advice on how to handle a work problem. We set up a time.

AS she waltzed into my office that day, a different building, but a similar view, she was the same glorious sight  as she was yesterday afternoon. Dressed up in something stylish and work appropriate, but sexily short, showing off those glorious legs. It was spring, so I recall more opaque hose, and pumps, but I could be corrected.

Long hair. Perfectly made up. Alluring perfume to which I had become addicted.

It was more than enough to make a dirty older man swoon.

But in the preceding days, I had been trying my best to stifle my lust for her. I figured it was a one-way crush that would pass if I just focused on more mundane things.

I can’t recall whether we gave each other a perfunctory hug when she walked in. Maybe we just shook hands. She might recall….she has a great memory for these things.  But I was trying to be very business like.

I offered her coffee, showed her a chair, then moved behind my desk.

“So what’s up, Molly…. “

That’s when, in a very business like fashion, she explained that she was calling my bluff…. That it was obvious that I was coming on to her these last few weeks, and that if I was ready, well, she was in….

I was stunned.

Dumbfounded.

And also scared shitless.

I was ready for rejection. In fact, I had already resigned myself to rejection.

And now…. Well. The opportunity to take this step with the lovely Molly seemed almost too good to be true.

I was like a wide receiver, alone in the end zone, a tight spiral heading for my unencumbered hands for the winning touchdown.

And what did I do?

Well, of course, I dropped the ball.

I mumbled something like not being sure, and what about our spouses, and the primary created a false sense of connection, blah, blah. Blah.

And as I listened to myself, there was another voice screaming at me…. Are you crazy Mick, just stand up, go over there and kiss her!!!!! Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting for?

(Was it Bogie from “Play it Again Sam”?. Could be.)

Well, it’s probably time for me to wake Mistress…. All this typing about our early days has awoken certain appetites.  And now that I’ve gotten started, I’m looking forward to hearing  her memory on this subject, presumably while my mouth and tongue are suitably distracted.

Let us know if you want more details in this “Secret Origins of Molly and Mick” stuff.

And yes, I made sure Molly got off… twice in fact… during her visit yesterday afternoon.