A Contemplation on Journalistic "Ethics"

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Switch Back

Unlike Tammy, over at All Mine, Slave was not punished for forgetting to adjust the clocks Sunday morning. After all, it was our Switch Day, and Mistress was not exactly in charge when she woke up from an extended slumber.

But here it is, Monday morning, and Slave slept in a bit longer than normal, due to the spring forward thing…. As a result you may get a briefer account of yesterday’s switch activities, but then illustrations are worth more than a d=few words aren’t they?

Suffice it to say that Mistress found herself with her hands spread to the corners of our bed. Once she was properly secured, I realized that those cute little nipple vises would make for an interesting contrast to the colorful nightie she was wearing. The effect is charming, don’t you think?

What’s nice about these is that once Mistress becomes acclimated to their un-subtle pinch, it’s easy to ratchet things up a bit by a simple “turn of the screw”.  So if Mistress gets too whiney, or makes a snarky comment, just a little tightening provides a lovely remedy.

“Oh, God….. that …. Hurts Slave….”

Of course, there wasn’t just pain on the menu. You all know I’m far from the sadist that some of you deal with out there in blog-land. Soon the Power tool was pulled from under the bed, and Mistress was squirming and moaning and whining that I wasn’t placing the vibrating orb exactly where she preferred it.

(Another opportunity to turn the screw).

Maybe it was the distraction of the nipple clips, or my imprecision,  but it seemed to take Mistress a little longer than normal to get to the point where she asked for permission to come…..of course the fact that I turned the sucker off in mid stream and elected to give her a slow tantalizing fucking for a while also extended our morning’s play.

But rest assured, once the Hitachi  was switched back on, and after Mistress had been reduced again to a writhing, moaning, squirming package of sexual wantonness, she exercised the permission I granted her, and concluded with  a long and shuddering display, her legs wrapping themselves around the tool to make sure that I would not withdraw it before she had her fill.

Her face was red, on the edge of tears. And I showed mercy by releasing her nipples from the oft tightened clips.

“Fuck me now, Slave…..”

“Of course, Mistress….”

I was happy – in fact rather desperate – to do the honors.

We fell back asleep after I released Mistress’s bound wrists, and after dozing a bit were off for a brisk bike ride. The air was cold, and I needed a warm shower afterwards to complete my next assignment.

You see, Switch Day was already over. I was dropping off surly teen 2 at an SAT Prep class and visiting my cranky Mom.  She had made her will clear even as I was unlocking her from her temporary bondage.

“I want you in the cage today, Slave….”

“As is your right, Mistress….”

But after that cold bike ride, my balls were in hiding, not so amenable to prodding into that steel ring.

Fortunately, the hot shower helped loosen up things down there, just enough to squeeze my reluctant balls and cock through that steel ring. 

Mistress seemed to take extraordinary pleasure in closing the lock before I headed out. 

Maybe I had overreached with those nipple clamps?

Later, as I was squandering time at a Starbucks, waiting for the teen’s class to end, I tried to call Mistress, but there was no answer.

Hmmmm.  I had a feeling  that she was up to something.

And sure enough,  it turned out I was right.

She called me about 20 minutes later, as I was wondering what makes folks line up at a Starbucks on a Sunday afternoon, like junkies at a methadone clinic. Is this a sign that the recession is finally ending?

“Sorry I was unavailable Slave…. But I was talking to the WC?”

“Oh really… I thought that might be the case… and….”

“Well he texted me while I was at COSTCO and instructed me to call him once I got home…”

“So there was a little improv training session, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave…. Exactly.”

“How many, Mistress?”

“There was just time for one, Slave.”

Damn.

Why does my cock bang up against the cage like a sad pavlovian beast so predictably?

Questions Time

It was a glorious day in River City yesterday. Somehow the sun was shining and temperatures rose into the 60’s. Of course, that meant Mistress and her acolyte when it comes to sun worshipping – surly teen #1 – unearthed long buried bikinis and were out on our deck absorbing dangerous ultraviolet rays by about 11 am.

Rest assured, Mick did get some early morning action, after dutifully worshiping Mistress, before the sun rose too high. And there was a very vigorous bike ride too, before I was off on some errands and Mistress and the teen were in full sun bathing mode.

But as the sun got lower in the sky….Mistress reminded me that it was a day for some serious ass fucking of her Slave….

But before we get to that part of this morning’s essay, I want to respond to some questions forwarded to us as part of this weeks Q and A blogger ritual.

If there are more questions out there, please let us know before question time ends. (also, feel free to forward questions for our international staff, I’m sure they would be happy to co-operate, though the WC may somehow treat the effort as overtime. I note that he and Suzanne were trading some provocative Q and A over at All Mine yesterday which you may want to check out.)


1. Why does Molly wear panties in bed? I would think you would be a butt naked couple.

Molly varies her routine. Often she sleeps naked, and I believe that is her preference. But sometimes she will wear some lacy, sexy items purely for decorative effect, as you’ve seen in some of our photos.(one above is an example) I think she believes they make her Slave all the more desirous of pealing them off. And she’s right.



2. Other than avoiding wheat, does Molly have to pay attention to her diet? She looks so fit and healthy and I know her VERY active sex life and bicycling play a part in keeping her cute figure, but is there a dietary aspect to that, too? Watch your answer here, many are already jealous and you don't want to stir up any really hard feelings among your female readers - some of whom have to watch every damn piece of food that passes between their lips. Just wondering, in a non-violent sort of way.

Mistress is very conscious of her diet. Despite the Irish surname, she tries to avoid potatoes and other starchy things. Her favorite meal would be grilled fish and stir-fried veggies. But she does have a weak spot for our local chili parlors, spelt pizza and sweets, including chocolate and our locally made and ever so delicious ice cream. As you know, Slave has been punished for raising an eyebrow when Mistress takes her breakfast in the form of an ice cream sundae. And the teens know they can get a rise out of her simply by mentioning the word “tater-tots.” Fortunately, her aggressive exercise regime allows her these occasional indulgences.

3. Does anyone at Mick's office ever say anything to him about the noon visits from Molly and the sexy/musky aroma that permeates the office when the door opens?

No one has had the nerve to say anything to me about what happens behind closed doors in that corner office perched high above River City. I do wonder if they raise their own eyebrows among themselves about Mistress’s frequent visits and the fact that our door is quickly shut. Or if they hear the subtle clunking of her head against the door in the throws of her passion. Recently a female attorney who has the office next door described Mistress as “delightful”, and said that I must be happy to have her work so close that she can stop by frequently. I simply agreed with her. But I suspect that she and others in the office see me as the stuffy older partner type who would never consider engaging in lurid acts of sexual depravity behind an unlocked door.

4. The word is out in Blogland that the thought of having an empty nest brings overwhelming sadness, so you will be starting a 24/7 "Please Let Us Babysit Your Teenagers" service. Any truth to those rumors?

Uhhh….. No. Mick has not had an empty nest since about 1978. And Molly has done a very good Momming job for these last 19 years. Our work here is done. At least almost done. We are already plotting a way to move into a house with no guest rooms or closet space in a few years, just to avoid the “bounce back” child syndrome.

5. The other rumor, which carries more weight in my book, is that you will be starting up a Dungeon Club in your town and luring Donna and Bill into your employ with the offer of great sums of money and unlimited access to everything and everyone in the Dungeon . How about those rumors? Please?



The thought of a dungeon here in conservative River City make me chuckle. But it definitely could be done. There are some great old buildings that are underused with cavernous basements, high ceiling and tunnels. (Check out this video for the type of rooms that could be made available.)What we need is a sugar daddy. Or maybe the WC could persuade the Teamsters Pension Fund to advance us a couple of large ones. I hear they don’t insist on a particularly detailed business plan so long as your sponsor has some “juice”. And should Bill and Donna decide to join us in this deviant enterprise, well, I’m not sure I can promise great sums of money, but they could have first dibs on the newbie’s, and play with the toys all they want….



I hope this sated the curiosity of our (somewhat) anonymous questioner.

Now, as for yesterday afternoon…. As the sun began to sink a bit, driving its rays from our little deck, Mistress came inside, in search of her Slave who had been pouring over our tax documents, one of those hated annual rituals, that makes me yearn for Steve Forbes’ infamous “flat tax”.

“It’s that time, Slave…”

I shuffled my papers into some semblance of order, then headed upstairs.

“Why don’t you get out my supplies, Slave….”

I followed my orders, finding her harness and faux cock. And the lubricant, of course.

We had missed this little ritual the last two weeks due to some scheduling complications. So my ass was probably a little tighter than normal. And Mistress was gentle as first as she allowed me to help guide her “cock” home. But soon, once I was amply penetrated, Mistress picked up the pace, thrusting into me with a robust delight.

“You like this don’t you, Slave…..”

“I must say I do, Mistress…..”

My cock was hard, pressed against the pillow under my hips, and Mistress’s thrusts were making it harder, more desperate.

At some point, Mistress surrendered to her own powerful cum, moaning, and pressing her pelvis even harder against my fleshy ass, before she collapsed down onto me, her hand sliding along my flank.

But after a little rest, she withdrew, stepping off the bed to shed her harness.

“Why don’t you go put in your device Slave (the little white aneros), and come back to bed and fuck me….”

She didn’t have to ask me twice.

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…..”