Our Senior Correspondent Teases Her Doctor.

(When she heard the Executive Editor was struggling to pick up the slack with our Western Correspondent MIA on the ski slopes, Donna, our Senior Correspondent stepped in with this delightful and illustrated post.)


Today I had an appointment with my psychiatrist who is helping me puzzle through some work-related issues from a few years back. I firmly believe that we of the kinky persuasion need to search out medical people we can trust with the truth, and it took several interviews with counselors and psychologists to find this fabulous doc. In the interview process I asked him point-blank about his feelings on BDSM. He said he didn’t have a problem with it, that he honestly didn’t know much about it but that he was willing to learn. He then added that whether I decided we would be working together or not, he would appreciate suggestions for reading materials. Winner!!! And Doc has been true to his word. He read the books I gave him, asked insightful questions and, because he realizes how much this lifestyle is part and parcel of my interpretation of the world, hardly a session goes by that we don’t include some talk of sexual matters. We have developed an easy, almost teasing manner that works for me.

At my visit today, Doc asked whether I had followed through on some relaxation suggestions he had made at our last visit. When I replied that I had tried some but not all, he gave me a disappointed look. So, being the smart ass that I am, I asked him whether he had followed through on the suggestion I made for him at our last meeting. He looked sheepish for a moment and then laughed and said, ”Oh, I remember, you said I should get my wife a hibachi for our anniversary.” “No.” I responded, “what I said was to get your wife an Hitachi wand. The goal is to heat things up, not set your house on fire.” He then commented that they don’t use toys. Blink-blink! WHAT?? None???

I suggested that he was pulling my leg, that surely after 25 years of marriage he and his wife must have a toy box under their bed with some sexy toys. He shook his head, said there are only dust bunnies under their bed and reminded me that he is vanilla. I was puzzled, insisting that vanillas can have toys, too. He then told me I should try harder to look a bit less saddened by the idea that he is toy-less, and said that maybe I just don’t have a clear understanding for how vanilla, vanilla really is.

So, here we have a physician with a specialty in psychiatry who has never played with a pocket rocket, a dildo, or a vibrator of any kind. I could understand that he doesn’t own a flogger, paddle or nipple clamps. And maybe a St. Andrew’s cross or sex swing might be a bit over the top, but to not even have a good dildo? I really was taken aback.

We had a lovely discussion on what Bill and I keep in our toy-boxes and what I would think a vanilla man might want to keep in his toy-box, but none of the ideas seemed to appeal to him at all.
Of course the bottom line is that as long as he and his wife are happy, that is all that matters. But, quite honestly, I was both embarrassed and enlightened to learn that I have preconceived notions about the vanillas of the world that may be just as incorrect as the ideas that some vanillas have about those of us who are kinky folks.

As I left the office, Doc smiled as he patted my shoulder and said,”Try not to feel too sad for me, Donna.” To which I replied, “I’m not sad, I’m thinking about bringing you a little starter box to my next appointment and I’m thinking about what I want to put in it.”
I swear he paled just a bit.

More Questions and Answers

Molly and Mick worked our way through a busy Monday here in River City. She had an early meeting with Surly teen II’s guidance counselor, so there was little time to linger in bed.

I ignored my cold / flu as best I could, and hunkered down at my desk, spacing out from time to time, but, so it goes.

Mistress did stop by shortly after lunch for a little personal attention. I am very mindful of my obligations to pleasure her several times each day. We are now in that odd transition from winter to spring here in River City, and since it was a warmer day, Mistress shed had foregone the black tights, but was still going with the boots. So it was easy for her simply to pull down her black undies and let me feast for a while, until her hip were bucking and her gently moan signaled another job acceptably done.

I made sure to snap a photo to text to M, off on his ski vacation, having left us here at UCTMW to pick up the slack.  My message was “back to work”.

He later responded that it seemed that I was recovering from my bought with the flu.

Mistress had planned to meet Surly teen I at a spinning class at our gym after work, so I headed home solo, planning to whip up some dinner to be ready when they got home.

Surly teen II was at home, working on her homework. She gave me a sideways glnace of acknowledgement, then cut to the chase.

“What’s for dinner….”

“Irish stew and mashed potatoes.”

“It’s 70 degrees out…. Its too warm for stew.”

Oops. I forgot to check the gastro-temperature chart before planning the evening’s menu.

“Would you prefer a salad….”

(Said sarcastically…. Surly II is not much on slads.)

“Why don’t we just eat out.”

I ignored that one, heading to the kitchen.

When Mistress got home, she still had on her workout cloths: black cotton tights and a black and turquoise tank top. The gleam of her perspiration gave her a lovely glow.

By now the stew was simmering, the potatoes were boiling and there was time for some worship.

I joined her in the bedroon, where she had “lost” the tights, exposing her clean shaven parts.

“How about some worship, Mistress.”

“But Slave, I’m all sweaty and smelly down there.”

“That’s exactly how I like you…”

Soon I was on my knees, yet again,  savoring the salty concoction after that spinning workout.

Yum. 

But I will confess that was the night’s action. I was still feverish and did not want to make Mistress endure my overly warm body during some conventional love making. Hopefully I will be back to normal tomorrow.

So in lieu of further action, let me share some answers to questions received over the last few days.

The first came by way of  the former  Kelly, she wanted to know what “hard limits” there are at UCTMW re: blood or markings when we play. 

Hate to say it, but we are kind of wimps here. Sure there are some red stripes and occasional bruises, but they usually fade away rather quickly. No blood. No hickies. We are just two gentle souls, I suppose.

And Donna, our Southern correspondent asked the following:

“Since it is still March, I wonder if I might ask you both about the aneros device. I looked it up online and it gets rave reviews.

Mick-Was it difficult to get used to inserting? And do you ever leave it in for hours at a time?

Molly-Does it change how Mick feels to you or moves in you?

Personal questions I know, but someone is sending me $5.00 for asking these question for them and in this economy...”

Well, Molly says it seems to make old Mick’s cock all the harder when the aneros us deployed, but maybe she can comment if there is something else to add.

As for me…. It took a little time for me to work up the courage to lube that sucker up and fit it in. Mistress instructed me to order it while we were still doing our commuter marriage thing, and having long and often erotic video chats in the evening.

I will confess that I did not disclose exactly when it arrived, but once she got that information out of me, she directed me to go with it.

Of course, the device has both a psychological and physical aspect when put to proper use. There is a bit of humiliation and submission tied to the act of inserting the little sucker at Mistress’s direction, which works on my head.

And there is a physical reaction when the little guy presses up against the prostate, making my cock seem to get extraordinarily hard.

But once getting over the initial hump, sliding it in and realizing that there is ample capacity there if the device is properly lubricated, it’s quite easy to get used to and accommodate.

Mistress has never required me to wear it for more than an hour or so. No trips to a bar, or dinner with the device in place…. That could be a little un-comfy, though I suspect it has been done.  And now that I’ve gotten used to it, my guess is that it would take a bit of focus to keep it from sliding out. Though I suspect that is the point, isn’t it?

I wonder if Suzanne ever requires Tammy to wear an anal plug for an extended period, or on social occassions?

Staffing Crunch at UCTMW Enterprises, LLC

UCTMW Enterprises, LLC

MEMORANDUM

FROM: Mick Collins, Executive Editor

TO: All Staff, World Wide.

RE: Unexpected Staffing Crunch

Late last week our Western Correspondent and the CEO’s personal trainer broke the news that he is talking some “personal days” this week, apparently for a little ski holiday with his clan. While we always want our staff to enjoy the personal and vacation days they accrue, we were a little surprised. After all, it seemed like it was only a week or two ago that M was off on an extended medical leave, attributed to complications arising from that whole frozen cock situation.



So the rest of us may have to do some multitasking this week to keep the vast media empire humming, and also to keep our CEO and my Mistress fully satisfied.

Of course, I will give M credit for trying to hold up his duties until he headed out for the slopes this morning.

On Friday night, Molly was staying in her grandmother’s house, in a little single bed, with her mother in a bed only a few feet away. (Imagine Ricky and Lucy, sleeping in those separate sitcom beds all those years ago.

“M was texting me, Slave… Those little salacious texts… I think he wanted me to call him so he could get me off, but there was no privacy.”

“Poor Mistress… all horny in bed, with Mom keeping an eye on you….”

“Yes, Slave it was sad….”



And I must say, I felt I came up a little lame today.

I woke up too early, and by the time Mistress was ready to take me back into her bed, well, I was feeling a little exhausted, so we deferred switch day and just had some warm and tender morning sex, followed by a restful nap.

Now Mistress wasn’t complaining. It seemed rather cold here this morning, and I think she was happy to stay under the covers, rather than get tied to the bed and cropped as I had planned for her.

“How about we do it later this afternoon, Mistress….”

“That’s perfectly fine, Slave.”

Well as the day went on we took a long double hill climb bike ride in a cold drizzle. Then I was off to the grocery for some dinner items.

But by the time I got home, it was pretty obvious that some sort of feverish cold or flu was kicking in. Mistress let me cuddle next to her in bed, and some sleep made me feel a tad better. But I was hardly up for Switch Day.

“I feel like I let you down, Mistress….”

And it seemed like I let M down too. He was texting Mistress, wanting to know what kinky rituals were unfolding here at the World HQ. Sadly, Mistress had to report “nada”.

But Mistress was understanding, patting me on the head and offering to dig up some meds for me.

It was about then that I read Suzanne’s  post today at ALL Mine, in which she whined a bit about Jay’s “horrific” cold, and its sad impact on her Saturday and Sunday orgasm count.

Now I don’t know about Jay, but I think I am a good trooper when under the weather. It may come from the influence of my Dad, a WWII vet who spent some ugly time on Okinawa in the final days of the war. He never talked about it much, but I suspect what he saw there made him rather immune to whining about conventional aches and pains. Expect when he was hospitalized once for a life threatening illness, I can’t recall him ever taking a sick day.

He expected the same from his sons. (the daughters, on the other hand got cut lots of slack). Of course, one can take this a little too far. My younger brother died at 52 after a massive heart attack, after putting off an appointment for a stress test because he was too busy at work.

Hopefully, old Mick is not that crazy. I do get an annual physical. But Suzanne’s blog did get me off the dime. I reached under the bed for the trusty power tool, and surprised Mistress when I thumbed it on.

“I may be too tuckered to deliver a hard one Mistress, but I think you deserve some Hitachi action.”

“Oh Slave….”

I think she was feeling a little sorry for her feverish Slave.

She didn’t put up an argument though as I wedged the churning tool against the juncture of her lovely thighs.

But getting back to our short staffing situation this week. I did do a little web search for a temp agency that might provide personal training services while M is off on his holiday. But they didn’t seem to offer the sort of specialized services that our WCC/PTTTCEO provides.

I hope our staff will put their heads together and let us know if you have any thoughts on how to keep our CEO pleased over the next week.

Sometimes it does take a village.

At Last.... (with musical accompaniement).

Some of you gave old Mick some serious shit yesterday for whining about our “horrid”  56 hour draught here at UCTMW World HQ.

It had been since Thursday morning …. And Mistress was not scheduled to return until 1 pm or so Saturday from her trip to visit her very old but still feisty grandmother.

Yeah... I know. I'm spoiled. But could be that just makes it worse, when Mistress and I are apart? Even if just briefly?

I dutifully kept my vow of “no touching” without Mistress’s consent, passing the time with some yard work, tax document preparation, and visiting my own cranky whiner of a mother. I tried to avoid being  the sad, lonely guy in this song.

(Hmmm…. Maybe my whining is hereditary…. Though her whining seems more to do with ambient noise in her condo, whereas mine focuses on missing my beloved CEO).

While I had a chance for a couple of brief conversations with her, Mistress was always in close proximity to her mother or grandmother while she was away, even at bedtime, so there was no opportunity for any naughty or intimate chat. I just didn't know what to do with myself.

During the course of my Saturday morning, I did receive a textual taunt:

“It’s ass fucking day. Slave….”

But finally, Mistress pulled into our drive, dropped off by her mother. I was in our backyard, gave her a wave, and briefly finished up filling a  trash bin with some of last fall’s leaves before helping her carry her overnight bag up to our room.

  

At Last…. Mistress was home.

Of course, I offered to take her to bed and lavish her with some physical attention immediately.  But it was a gorgeous, warm and sunny day here in River City.

“They’ll be time enough for that Slave…. First, a bike ride to get the kinks out after that long drive….”

“Sure… but save a few kinks for me, Mistress.”

The bike ride was glorious, but after about an hour we were back and…. Thanks to the gods… the two sulky and bored teens had decided on an outing to the outlet mall.

Amazingly the house was empty now..

We relaxed a bit…. lying in bed. I had showered to make sure I was “spanking” clean for Mistress.

“Get out my equipment, Slave…. And bring a riding crop too…”

Gulp.

I collected her harness, the accompanying dildo, and lubricant. AS she slid into it, tightening it to fit her lush body, I found the crop in the corner of our closet and handed it to her.

“Get in position, Slave….”

“But why the crop, Mistress….”

“You know why…. You were certainly less than enthused to see me this afternoon Slave….”

“But….”

“I would have expected you to rush over and greet me when I pulled in…. instead…you kept raking those leaves….”

Thwack….

“Ouch….”

I tried to minimize my offense… “I was just finishing the task so we could go upstairs together…” or some such. She would have none of it. And it turned out she also thought I was less than sweet and charming when we talked on the phone while she was gone.

"It reminded me how distant you were sometimes when we were commuting."

No, that was not good. Not at all. No wonder she was itching to apply some good punishment. Best to leech those bad vibes out of her system pronto, even at the expense of my temporary discomfort.

By now the blows were raining down. My ass was getting increasingly tenderized, and I was squirming on the bed.

“Hold still, Slave… you’re just making things worse for yourself….”

I tried. Believe me I did. But man, that crop was hurting my bony old white ass.

“My, that is getting pretty red, Slave… maybe I should take a picture….”

“Feel free, Mistress.”

I figured that she could not snap a photo and clobber me with the crop at the same time.

But, At LAst (yet again), she  was done with the crop, admiring her handywork, her hands sliding over the welts that she had created.

“Nice…. Slave…. But now, get in position for the good part….”

I settled back onto the bed, my hips under a pillow.

She straddled me, then slid her tool home….

“”How’s that, Slave…. “

“Ummmm…. Nice Mistress.”

Soon she was picking up the pace, filling me quite effectively… and working herself into that lovely frenzy that delivers a lunging, moaning climax for her.  I remember her nails digging into my back, her hot breath on my neck when she collapsed onto me, spent.

When she extracted herself, rolling off to remove her harness and deposit on the floor for me to tuck away later, she gave me some additional instructions.

“Go put in your device, Slave…”

I made sure I hopped to…. I was not going to cross her again today, and I had some business of my own to tend to….finally.