Back in the Saddle

Slave got a few days of blogging hiatus, thanks to our Senior Correspondent and Mistress’s own contribution over the weekend, in which she took the opportunity to get a few things off her divine chest.

But that’s not to suggest that our fun went dark here in River City these last few days. No, despite a day spent at our daughter’s college orientation on Friday, Mistress got a reasonable allocation of orgasms these last few days, and Slave can’t complain either.

But since it’s  a work day, and I want to make sure there is timing for some morning “activity” here at the World HQ before we head to work, let me pick up on Sunday morning, our weekly Switch Day.

Mistress and Slave both slept in a little later than normal, and even after I came back to bed with the morning papers, Mistress was otherwise engaged, spending some time finishing a work project on her laptop that had been bugging her all weekend. There was even a brief chat with our WC, as he headed to a Sunday morning golf game.

But when the time came…. Well Mistress found herself with those red leather cuffs locked on tight, on her tummy, her arms spread to the corners of our bed.

Nice and helpless…. Just the way I like her every now and then.

I took a few photos, so there would be something to share with all of you. Then I lazily spread my nakers self across her lovely body. My guess is she could feel the semi-rigid work-a-day cock sliding between her cheeks, as I spread little tender kisses across her neck and slowly worked the muscles in her neck and shoulder with my fingers.

“You’ve been so nice to me lately, Mistress that it would seem cruel to get out the riding crop.”

“”Well that’s good news, Slave….”

Soon I was sliding off her and reaching for the Hitachi Magic wand, tucked under our bed.

I worked it over her lower back, which produced little purrs of delight. But when it ran down the back of her thighs, and to the sole of her foot, the delight turn to shivers and wiggles and squirms, with Mistress trying to evade the vibrating tool.

“That tickles, Slave…”

“It could be worse, Mistress…..”

But I didn’t make it worse…. Like I said, I was a bit of a pushover yesterday. Soon the vibrating ball was sliding up the inside of her thigh, and under her squirming hips….. back to the place where Mistress likes it.

She was squirming more sensually now, and the aroma of her juices teased my nostrils. My cock, like the foolish little robot it has become for her, was getting harder just from that scent, and the sight of her ass and thigh muscles flexing and relaxing, then flexing again, to squeeze a little more “whoopee” from the Hitachi.

As she squirmed, I decided to apply a little “tart” to the “sweet’, and used my free hand to spank that delicious butt, timing my swats to the de-clench of her lusty cycle, which seemed to speed the rhythm of her little dance of debauchery to a snappier beat.  Maybe you can see that little red glow her cheek acquired, even as she was working herself against that little throbbing ball.

“Remember to ask permission, Mistress… or there could be consequences….”

She moaned, her ass rising and falling even faster now, her thighs clinging greedily to the wand as I did my best to hold it in place….

“Can I come now, Slave….”

“Let me hear you say ‘please’….”

She did, and I required that please a few more times, for good measure, before I gave my consent.

She sighed on relief, but then a  funny thing happened…With my consent in the bank, she seemed to back away from the brink, and take her time to work her wake back up to the pinnacle of frustration…. Clenching, relaxing, then clenching those muscles, her thigh muscles flexing, her legs bending up at the knees, toes curling, a frenetic rhythm of motion that was s delight for this humble provocateur to behold.

I did my best to keep up, with my hand firmly gripping the churning tool, trying to maintain contact with her sopping little cunt.

Finally, with a sound that started deep in her chest, and with her muscles straining from calf to shoulders, Mistress roared over the cliff, first for one nifty cum, then, barely missing a beat, she shifted to a higher gear, treating herself to another one before begging me to thumb her favorite toy off.

When she was done, her chest was heaving, and little beads of sweat had broken out on her back.  My tongue lapped them up as I let her catch her breath.

But she wasn’t done.

“Fuck me now, Slave….”

I was anxious to accommodate her, and too lazy to flip her over just yet, so I mounted her from behind….

“Watch for the right hole, Slave….”

Not a problem. We’re keeping that ass virgin for now, but it was easy to finding the correct aperture, and soon I was pumping into Mistress… rough and greedy.

She seemed to take it well, coming at least once more that way,  before I released her wrists and flipped her over… taking my own pleasure… with permission of course.

Now it’s the start of another work week, and the final school week here for our teens here in River City…. and somehow, writing all this out makes me want to head upstairs and get another fix of Mistress before we all put our noses to the grindstone once again.

A Busy Morning for Our Senior Correspondent

 Molly and Mick were busy Friday and Saturday taking sullen teen #1 to her orientation for the next stage in her life --- lots of helicopter moms hovering, and of course we couldn't let our little darling feel neglected or lonely in comparison to her soon-to-be classmates. So we called on our Senior Correspondent Donna to deliver a little of the naughty that you've come t expect from us here at UCTMW.  And as you can see from the following that she has delivered.  In fact, she and Bill have raised the bar....

Bill was on a roll early Friday morning. After cuddling and talking for a few minutes, he sized up my physical condition and attitude, and realized there was work to be done if he hoped to keep me out of trouble for the day.

Now I have admitted previously that I am a tad OCD, although I would rather use the acronym CDO because I prefer the letters be in alphabetical order. That degree of focus can work well for us or it can create problems depending on whether I am spinning my wheels and becoming more and more frustrated or whether I am actually accomplishing something useful. On Friday morning, I was spinning my wheels.

Bill, in all his Domliness, made the unilateral decision to change things up and tire me out so much that I would be content to read and relax for the remainder of the day.

When I leaned over to kiss Bill before heading for the shower, he reached around my shoulders and pulled me around, positioned my body on top of him in our bed. He let me know by the movement of his face against my chest that he wanted me to move up so he could suck on my nipples. I do love that! While there are parts of passing the age of 50 that are not so sweet, the fact that my boobs hang a little lower than they once did is a bonus in this situation. At 38DD, my breasts are large enough that with just a bit of finagling and positioning, Bill can get both my nipples into his mouth at one time.WOW! Amazing tingles and electric currents zipped right to my clit as he continued to suck and as I rubbed against him. I had a nice soft buzz going on.

He then pulled his knees up so my back was supported and I had an easy cowgirl ride while he massaged my breasts and ran his warm hands down my chest and belly to my groin. where he pinched and rubbed my clit in time with my ride. All of a sudden he grabbed my hips and stopped all movement. I assumed we were having an earthquake or some other natural disaster. Why on earth would you stop something that felt that good?

But Bill had other plans.

He flipped me onto my back and leaned over to get the Hitachi and lube from my bedside drawer. I really enjoy my Hitachi, but it certainly isn’t a replacement for Bill’s cock, it just isn’t. But when I looked into Bill’s eyes, I knew that saying anything would be a waste of breath, so I waited. He reached under the bed where we keep a beach towel for play time, folded it over several times and scooted it under my hips, saying that I would be coming hard and often and he didn’t want any lip about who would be resting on the wet spot on the bed.

With that done, he flipped the switch on the Hitachi and held it against my clit. As good as it felt, it quickly became too much, and not so good. He told me I could take it and I would take it and he began to use his other hand to hold the folds of my vulva around the vibrating head of the Hitachi. Too much, too much…going to come, begged Bill to let me come and just as he said yes, my explosion erupted.

Encouraged or maybe even challenged by thoughts of Mick and Molly’s marathon session last Sunday, Bill decided five would be a good number for me to achieve for Friday morning, so we had four more to go. What, four more? And he carefully explained that I would come a total of five times, but not without permission. Holy Moley! He also stated that no two comes would be identical, and they would all take place within the next hour. No pressure there, well actually there was some exquisite pressure as Bill grabbed his cock and began beating it against my nipple as he knelt beside me. With his other hand, he placed the Hitachi in my hands, turned it on and told me to hold it against my rectum rather than my clit. That vibration, accompanied by his penis smacking my left nipple and his other hand swatting my cunt, sent me over the top in record time. Bill gave me his enigmatic smile and held up two fingers.

The next thing I knew, Bill was placing a knee on either side of my head, grabbing my hair and lifting my head to place another pillow under my head for support. Then he painted my lips with his pre-come and nodded, giving me the sign to open my mouth while his arm reached behind his back to rub my clit. My warm, sucking mouth pulling hard against his penis and my tongue pressing again his slit felt great to me and must have felt equally great to him because within a few minutes we were both shooting for the stars. And Bill held up three fingers.

I tried to protest that I was spent, that I was too tired for any more and he just shook his head and reminded me that sassing and having a smart mouth are punishable offenses and asked me if I really wanted to go down that path.

No, sir, I didn’t.

He rose from the bed and grabbed our newest toy to review for edenfantasies, a slut paddle (more on that later in the week). Bill rolled me over and the new paddle did a great job of making that crackling noise in the air and delivering a sharp ouch to my butt cheek, and then the other cheek and as Bill spread my legs I knew what was coming next and tried not to tighten up, but couldn’t help it as “whack” the paddle connected with my slit. In a strange version of a waltz tempo, there was a one, two, three - one, two three of left cheek, right check and center, repeated again and again… and then it stopped and when I lifted my head to see why it had stopped, he popped me over my clit. Oh, gosh. No use asking permission. Too late for that. And there were four fingers held up.


At that point Bill rolled me back over onto my back, bent my knees and used pillows to hold them in that position. He ran his hands over my face, asking if I was tired, massaging my shoulders and arms and working his way inch by inch down my body. When he reached my groin he rubbed clockwise circles, and then reversed, again and again. On the next pass, he reached into my vagina with two crooked fingers of his right hand and unerringly went right to my g-spot and applied circular internal pressure there as his left hand continued to provide massaging circles that became smaller and smaller and stronger and stronger as he brought the external massage directly over my clit. With pressure up from the inside on the g-spot and down over the clit, all I could do was beg…beg him to stop, beg him not to stop, beg him to give me permission to come, yet again.

Bill looked into my eyes in that way that lets me know he sees, he really sees me, and said the magic words, “Come for me, come on my hand.” And I did. He then smiled and held up five dripping fingers.

I was a good girl and rested on Friday, getting a stupid smile on my face on and off during the day as I thought back through all Bill had accomplished so early in the day, making it a successful and peaceful day for us both.

Maybe someone else would like to pick up the Mick and Molly coming (or not) challenge and see what they come up with. You might be pleasantly surprised at all that can be accomplished when people are hot, horny and racing the clock. I sure enjoyed it!

From the Desk of Our CEO

So the last time I wrote was prior to Eastern Europe, and what a trip it was. I’ve been back in the proverbial saddle for about a month now. Reality setting in, the somewhat wretched job, preparing the kids to leave the nest and life in general... and a decent life it is.

Mick has written this blog and entertained me with it quite well for about a year and a half now.

I love that he expresses himself to me. And frankly he is an Irish Catholic guy through and through, so the only way I get the words is through this mechanism...and I am good with that. 20+ years being married to a guy who doesn't talk about “feelings”. And let's say I am used to it, and might get squeamish with a guy who over does.

Having said that though, I am a chick who needs feedback. If a tree falls in the forest and no one else says they heard it too -- well then maybe I am imagining things. Recently, I've had some feedback   on times that were close to 25 year's ago.

And just today I spent some time (by happenstance) with a dude I knew in college. We laughed about people we know, times we had. He reminded me that (as a young girl) I had an impact. Didn't know it then, glad to know it now.

I am the girl who needs to hear, wants to know. I do the self-actualization thing (shrink talk). It is who I am. Yea, too bad for me.

So, when it comes to Mick and me, I take it any way I can get it. I like that strong and stoic type -- who does show their hand every once in a while. Because, if not, why the effort anyhow?

I also have thought some about men over the years and the old relationships. I have been told (since I was about 14) that I am “dangerous”.

Hard to figure.

I only “stole” one man from another wife (Mick), and while I am glad each day that I did it – I would never recommend it,  or do it again. Too much heartbreak for too many and families don't deserve the havoc it causes.

But it did turn out happily ever after.

I am still told that I am frightening...some men are allowed to sleep with any woman (but me), because, well… who knows why?

 I feel special (not).

So Molly, where's the sex? This is a sex blog, right?

Actually, it's all about sex....sex is the whole connection.

Sex answers the question why...

Sex is where the deal is sealed...

We girls all remember the guys who have been there with us...some we regret, some we forget more easily than others...but it is always a place that is sacred.

So Molly, why and what is this about?

It's about how to keep the connection alive.

 For me it’s simple...the physical + the words.

Without the physical (or in between) the words do..,. but I am about words...not pretty or elaborate ones.. . but words. I am a woman about sex + words (a communications expert by day).

So bring it on guys….give me what you've got.

Love.

molly

Our Senior Correspondent Fesses Up to Past "Sins"

Molly and Mick have to get up and out early Friday morning, so our Senior Correspondent was gracious enough to provide this compelling account for all of us.

After reading Mick’s post a couple of weeks ago about Molly removing those clothespins on switch day without permission, I tried to remember whether I had ever done anything similar. I couldn’t remember a single occasion.

Feeling rather pleased with myself, I mentioned that little fact to Bill. He leapt from the chair where he was sitting to dash across the room and put his hand across my forehead. I asked him what in the world he was doing and he said he could only guess that I was in a fever induced haze or early dementia was kicking in if I really couldn’t remember the many, many times I had misbehaved. I suggested that perhaps he was a bit too liberal with his use of the word many. He laughed until he had tears rolling down his face; I didn’t.


I asked Bill to give me just one example. “How about earlier today when I told you to…” he said. “No” I responded “not counting today!”

“Well, how about yesterday or any other day over the last 30+ years?” he snickered.

What followed was a recounting of my sins such as one might expect when standing in front of St. Peter, the Dom.

The offenses Bill dredged up from the past began with his beloved garage tools. Without delving too deeply here, I would like to ask how I could have known there are different saw blades for use on different materials. And I also wonder why I don’t get any credit at all for having the tenacity to stick with my DIY project while fiery sparks shot around me? And really, I replaced the saw, didn’t I?

Then Bill continued with my lack of care for his yard. Here’s what happened. Bill was, quite honestly, almost inappropriately attached to some flowering shrubs in our yard where we lived long ago. He fertilized and watered them, talked to them, and basically did whatever he thought would help them grow. And grow they did, to the extent they were blocking the windows. So at one point when Bill had been working out of state for a couple of months, I told him in a phone conversation about the overgrown shrubs and asked whether he had an objection to me arranging for them to be trimmed. He somewhat sullenly replied that if I really thought it was necessary, I should have them trimmed at shoulder height.

Foolishly believing that it couldn’t be all that tough of a job and that I could also save some money, I decided to use Bill’s electric hedge trimmers and do it myself. Sadly, what I neglected to factor in was that my shoulder height, sitting in a wheelchair, would be a tad shorter than a grown man’s shoulder level. It wasn’t a pretty situation, not for the hedges and not Bill’s response.

I would have to say, though, that the thing my cool and usually unflappable Dom is most apt to get truly displeased about is when I am unkind or too harsh with his favorite thing in the world - Me.

I am a bit of a perfectionist and can be incredibly hard on myself when I make errors. While that trait served me well in my work, on a more personal level it has caused some problems.


Bill has never had patience for a mindset drilled into polio children in the 50s that to cry, or to use crutches, braces or a wheelchair were all forms of not trying hard enough to improve, all signs of failure. As a result of that mindset, when I have been in pain, fallen down or had to ask for assistance physically, I have always apologized. That came to a halt two years ago.

I stayed up very late that night reading in the living room. When I headed to bed I didn’t turn on the hall light because I didn’t want it to shine into our bedroom and awaken Bill. Our bedroom door and the door to the basement are side by side. In the darkness, I opened the wrong door and instead of the next step on my crutches being into our bedroom, it was down a flight of steps.

I had a concussion, tore my rotator cuff and had some other nasty injuries, but what Bill says he remembers most clearly about those days is that when I regained consciousness my first words were, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” And again, when I woke up following surgery, those were my first words.

From that point on, I have not been permitted to use those words without being punished.

Bill made clear to me that the way I have used those words over the years has been disrespectful and hurtful to both him and me. From that day forward if what I meant to say was that I was frustrated that I had fallen or that I was concerned about the price of a new wheelchair, I better state that clearly because to apologize for something that cannot be helped and is not in any way my fault would no longer be tolerated.

When I slip and use the words I’m sorry, Bill punishes me, not in a lighthearted reminding manner, but in a serious, do you understand me, manner. Bit by bit I have come to understand that Bill is right. Those words served no purpose over the years…and I shouldn’t have trimmed his friggin’ shrubs, either!

So back to Molly and the clothespin. While this was a different kettle of fish in some ways, in others it was not. For those of us who are hard-wired for BDSM, discipline, both the giving and receiving, is part of what keeps us secure and safe, understanding how much we matter, as well as how we fit with and take care of those we love.

Through the positive and loving way the clothespin situation was handled, I think Molly learned that there are consequences for disobeying, Mick learned to keep closer tabs on Molly’s more subtle clues about her state of being okay and crossing the line into not okay, and the WC learned that there are yet additional ways he can receive both gifts and accolades from the UCTMW Management Team.

Senior Correspondent,
Donna