Happy St. Patrick's Day

Today is the day that all of us who descend from the great Irish Diaspora celebrate our common heritage, usually by making fools of ourselves. And since we have  derived our secret identities here at UCTMW from the Great Irish freedom fighter, Michael Collins, it’s only fair to pay tribute to him on this day. (‘Tis a shame there are no half naked photos of him on Google Images since this is a Thursday.)

Of course in his day, Mr. Collins would have been branded a terrorist by the Brits who occupied that Fair Isle, and who used every tool available to suppress the freedom, religion and even language of their subjects. But then again, one could fairly argue that from Oliver Cromwell to the Black and Tans, the Anglo-Saxon occupiers of Eire were also quite accomplished at terrorizing as a tool of oppression.

Fortunately, the days of tit for tat violence seems to be coming to an end in Ireland. So tonight, when I join with a band of males at a grand formal dinner, wearing my Tux, and we all sing the Soldier’s Song, we won’t need to worry about collecting money to send guns and explosives to our comrades across the Sea, the way Congressman Peter King did not so long ago.

Now he can just point the finger at other alleged enablers of terrorism.

But then, you didn’t come here for a political lecture, did you? And I do have some steamy stuff to share … so shall we get on with it….

We left off yesterday with our dear beloved CEO in the midst of an O-embargo, in preparation for a training session with our WC today. But the dear girl was more than merciful to her loving slave.

After slipping on the hard steel ring that forms the base for my cage, I crept upstairs, not meaning to wake her before I took my morning shower. She had planned a sleep in, then a bike ride, before heading to work.

But when I came out of the shower, Mistress was awake, anxious to read the blog. I teased her a bit with my tongue as she was reading – I mean it’s hard to break an addiction – but was careful not to let her break her obligation to her trainer’s regime.

When she was done reading, I was about to get up and dress for work, but she had other ideas.

“Why don’t you make love to me Slave….”

“But Mistress, we don’t want to break the rules?”

“Just don’t let me come….”

Well, she didn’t have to offer twice. While it’s against my better impulses, I must say I was pretty darned horny for her. Suffice it to say that I proceeded carefully, if lustily, and the result was quite satisfying. For me, that is….

And it certainly improved the quality of my day, once that cage was locked and Mistress sent me off to work.

Of course, Mistress’s day was a little more frustrating. And it wasn’t helped by some taunting and teasing from her WC/PT. She shared with me an email of instructions he sent her for receipt yesterday morning which, shall we say, speaks for itself:


“Good Morning Molly,

Every time you go to the bathroom today you are to rub your clit.

Of course you are expressly forbidden to orgasm, but I want you to get close.

Don’t accidentally go too far…

Or…a very special punishment awaits you.

I can assure you that you do not want this punishment.

But my cock is getting hard thinking about giving you that particular punishment.

I get so hot thinking about dominating you.

I would put you in a chastity device often and for long periods.

You would become very adept at pleasuring me with your mouth and your ass.

I love it when you are horny and needy…and not allowed to orgasm on my orders.

My cock is rock hard and I’m going upstairs to jack it off.

I would also straddle you and jack off all over your tits and neck and face.

And then you would suck my cock to get the last bit of cum out of it

And lick it clean…slave.

I love the power to control your orgasms Molly.

It is fucking HOT!!!!

Now I am going to relieve myself…my cock is very stiff and big and dripping from writing this post

Too bad you can’t cum till tomorrow…

Your master, M”

After she forwarded this little incendiary message, for posting to share with you, I was …. Well …. Impressed.

“Wow. That’s pretty hot, Mistress.”

“It is…. And he even used spell check….”

“So did you follow his orders….”

“I did Slave….”

“And did that frustrate you….”

“Oh yes, Slave…. It did.”

In fact, I noticed her little fidgets in bed last night. The tell tale squirm that Mistress was smoldering. I actually felt sorry for her , so much so that I passed on the offer to fuck her last night… figuring that I could share some of her pain. But if she offers again this morning, I’m not so sure I can resist the temptation.

After all, it will be a long day. And Slave will be caged again. I suspect that I will be the only one of the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick – about 1500 of us – who will have a cock cage on under his tuxedo. But then again, one never knows.

When Mistress talked to M yesterday he reminded her of the state of things last St. Patrick’s Day…. While I was at this dinner, Mistress was off to one of her first “dates” with the other M, her starter Dom. You can see my little story on it here.

Times have changed over that year…. Today Mistress will have a different sort of date. And I suspect by the time M allows her to turn on the Hitachi, our beloved CEO will be rather focused.

Embargoed

It was a rainy day here in River City, and Mistress and Slave were pretty focused on work through the day.

Of course, there was some nice cozy wake up sex, beginning with my oral devotions as Mistress read my morning essay.

But then it was off to work. Mistress had worn those enticing peek-a-boo tights but, alas, there were no opportunities to partake of her juicy delights during the day. Instead, we seemed to be playing phone and text tag. And as it turned out, somehow I missed the choicest text of the day.

Apparently it came around 12:15, when I had my phone chime muted because I was in a meeting.  When we got home, before we were set to prepare dinner, She mentioned it.

“You know I’m on orgasm embargo after tonight, Slave….”

“Oh…. No…. You didn’t mention it….”

“I sent you a text …”

I thumbed through my text messages. Sure enough:

“On embargo after tonight, Slave.”

Maybe it’s good I missed it. I probably would have been left squirming in that desultory meeting at the thought of Mistress’s sullen frustration.

“Well it’s good to see your personal trainer subjecting you to a more rigorous regime, Mistress.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t worship you now….”

“I was waiting for you to offer, Slave….”

Soon she was reclining on our bed, her legs spread, black boots still on, allowing me access through the strategic opening in her tights.  From my vantage point on my knees I had a stimulating view of her magnificent body.  But soon I was hard at work, making sure that she had ample reserves of pleasure to carry her through her sad 36 hour embargo before a scheduled training session on Thursday morning.

“He says I should have the clothespins handy Slave…”

Helpfully, I showed her exactly where they could be found.

The girls and the visiting boyfriend were fed, and then we adjourned to our chambers.  Mistress was in the mood to watch a movie,  which she selected, and we lolled in bed, next to one another, amused by some surprisingly hot scenes involving Anne Hathaway seemingly naked, and the liberal distribution of Viagra.

About 2/3’s through Mistress decided it was time to stop watching and start participating….

“We can watch the rest of this tomorrow night, Slave….”

Bu now her hand was gripping my swollen cock. And my finger had wormed its way into her damp folds, probing for that special place that I knew would make her   quiver and whimper with need once properly manipulated.

It was the game we play when we want to see who can make the other one cry “mercy” first.

“I agree, Mistress…. We don’t want to miss our last opportunity before your embargo begins….”

“Well I suppose we could make love in the morning Slave…. I mean I won’t tell M if you don’t….”

She was squirming now, on the edge. And my cock was close to the meltdown point too…. But I was determined to win this little race…. And sure enough…. With just a few more deft touches from the very tip of my finger, Mistress was spasming against my hand, moaning her release, then releasing her grip on my cock, rolling back to let me fuck her properly.

“But that would be so wrong, Mistress…. We’re paying M that outrageous salary to act as your personal trainer…. Wouldn’t it be silly for you not to follow his prescribed regime?”

“I guess you're right, Slave….”

Her ragged breathing and the way her hips rose to meet me seemed a good sign that she was enjoying my eager thrusts into her.

“Plus I think it gets you all hot and bothered when M gets bossy with you, and controls when you come….”

I was getting close now myself….sliding side to side to make sure Mistress came again before I was begging for permission. I was determined to make sure she got her fill before that 36 hour period of denial began.

“I suppose it does Slave, just  a little…..”

Right. Just a little.

Well, I think you know how all of this ended.

After permission was granted, and gratefully taken, Slave and Mistress drifted off to sleep. But not before she reminded me of my responsibility this morning.

“I’m going to stay home a little later in the morning Slave…. Remember to wear your cage.”

So while Mistress is on lockdown, rest assured that her Slave is too.

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?