Our Senior Correspondent: DeCompressing After a Hard Work Day

 Molly and Mick had a late evening here in River City, out to dinner with our surly teen #2 and some friends visiting from Florida. That's why it was particularly nice to find this contribution from our Senior Correspondent in our in box to share with all of you.

Who says that the under 40's of this world have all the fun?

Well Guys and Gals, Doms and subs,

If you caught Sunday’s blog comments you know that I became rather vocal on a couple of issues. One might even say that I ranted a bit. I could try to convince you that the whole thing is totally out of character for me, that I am a soft and gentle soul who never rants or has strong opinions about things, but that would be a lie. No, along with being Bill’s submissive, I am clearly a Don’t Tread on Me (or mine) kind of girl. And that seems to be a common thread among submissive friends of mine, both male and female.

I swear to you that if the people Bill and I worked with in the vanilla world were to hear that we are a BDSM couple, their first thought would be of Bill lashed to a St. Andrew’s cross with me cracking a whip like Clint Eastwood in the opening scene of Rawhide! Very few could imagine me as the submissive begging for permission to suck Bill’s cock or envision me rocking my body, trying not to reach orgasm until given Bill’s approval. To the rest of the world Bill is currently a laid-back environmentalist and gentle political activist, a joking kind of guy, easy-going almost to a fault and I continue to be perceived as a take-charge, suck it up, organize it and make it work sort of person.

You may well be asking how this ties into a sex blog and here it is: Bill finds it very sexy that I am so strong in public. As part of my job when we were in the workforce, I led men and women, telling them what to do and exactly how I wanted it done. I was also required to call them on the carpet from time to time. Bill found it to be quite stimulating to watch his little sub be in charge. Since we worked together, being erect so often frequently made the days extra long for him and proper decompression in our hotel suite was always important.

We would head back to the hotel ASAP, hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the door and strip out of our clothes as quickly as possible. The shower was the first step in releasing work tensions while cranking things up sexually at the same time. After a basic wash-up Bill would push me up against the shower wall and I would run my soaped fingers through the hair on his chest, then run them slowly down his abdomen following that trail of dark hair leading to his groin.

I moved on to a gentle rubbing of his balls and a not so gentle grasping and rubbing of his cock. After a warm rinse, he lowered me to the shower seat that was just at the right height for me to lean forward and lick those first drops of precum from the end of his fat cock. After some time spent licking and sucking, Bill gave my wet hair a solid tug to let me know it was time to stop and he spread my legs and used the hand-held showerhead set on hard spray, showering attention on my nether lips and clit. We dried each other off with the thick hotel towels and relocated to the chairs in the living area. 

Bill placed me over the back of the chair and after gently rubbing my butt for a few minutes and maybe adding a little back rub, would pull his hand back and *whack* spank me for that day’s offenses, both real and imagined. He stopped after every ten swats or so, running his fingers up and down my slit to distribute my juices and judge just how turned on I had become. Sometimes he brought me to orgasm right then, but more often than not he insisted in a manner and voice that only Doms own, that I wait.

 He continued rubbing my clit while at the same time nudging my legs farther and farther apart until he could bring up his knee, rubbing my slit with his knee and thigh, again and again, while using his hands to tweak, pull and pinch my nipples. Finally granted permission to come, I buried my face in the upholstery in an effort to keep from screaming with my release. And then, before my heartbeat returned to normal, he would take me to the bed.

In bed then, as now, bondage is the name of the game. Bill was a scout leader and is a very creative guy. He can make most anything into an implement of bondage. Belts and ties are obvious and easy choices, but my Dom can take a bra and turn it into a rather secure tie down. He can have me pull on my jeans only to knee level and adjust them to immobilize my legs and he can twist exercise bands into handcuffs in the blink of an eye. Once I was bound in whatever manner pleased him on that particular day, Bill continued his complete control and Dominance of me, his sexual submissive until we were both freed from the day’s stressors and well sated.

That is exactly what I wanted and, more to the point, it is exactly what each of us needed.

I have heard vanillas speak of submissives as weak, sniveling creatures never wishing to make a decision on their own and Doms as overbearing, mean, obnoxious people As with all stereotypes, the beauty and diversity of life is missed by generalizing.

Vive la difference!

Donna

Rainy Day Mistress

We woke here in River city to what seemed like a millennial rain storm. Hours of hard and steady rain, that was preceded by some house rattling thunder. Our plans for an early morning bike ride were put on hold, which gave us a morning to loll in bed, read the paper, and well….do what Molly and Mick do.

I grazed through Mistress’s silken and naked folds as she read the blog, but she seemed a little startled when I pulled away as she closed the laptop and placed it on the bed.

“Huh….”

“Did we forget it’s Switch Day, Mistress?”

“I guess I was hoping you’d forgotten, Slave….”

Hardly.

Mistress soon found herself bound face down on our bed, her arms attached to the corners, her ankles bound together by our leather cuffs.

She was wriggling no where on her own.

I turned on a local public radio station to make sure the sullen teen would not hear any of our shenanigans. Irish music. The lively stuff that matched up well with what the Big Fellow had in mind.

I deployed the feather that ‘Nilla had suggested some months ago. It combined well with the firm slap of my palm on her lovely ass. A little sour to go with the sweet, that had her squirming nicely, the aroma of er arousal soon filling our “executive sweet”.

And then the Hitachi was deployed, slid between the tight confines between her thighs, making her squirm and writhe to accommodate it even though her ankles were still bound together.

I do love watching those ass and thigh muscles flex onvulsively as she builds herself to a lovely climax.

And give her some credit: this time she remembered to ask permission first.

Soon I was releasing her, then flipping her over to accommodate my needy little work-a-day cock.

All in all, it seemed nice that the rain had allowed us to take things at a more leisurely pace.

Soon I was off to visit my cranky Mom, as Mistress worked on some business matters. I got home around 1:30 pm or so, and we were surprised to see our comment count climbing precipitously. It seemed our “staff” was in a huff over their reprimand yesterday, and then there was the Anonymous refuge from Sin’s blog, mocking all of us as a bunch of depraved old farts.

I suppose it might be hard to argue with her/him (other than with respect to Molly of course), but Donna gave her / him a nice chewing out. Her inner Lou Grant came out…. Exactly what us crusty old hardscrabble editors like to see.

Ah, where were we…. Heading for a bike ride, right?

Well we got briefly off schedule at the behest of the WC, who took some time off from collecting kick backs from his trucking companies in his capacity as a Teamster shop steward to suggest to Molly that they have a spontaneous date.

It had been a while, and even though it was Switch Day, I would not be one to stand in the way of their fun.

“Do you mind, Slave…. a little privacy…”

“Of course not, Mistress…”

I took the Time and my laptop, and adjourned to the employee lounge, downstairs. The teen was at the gym, allowing Mistress to fully relax into the moment.

But around 15 minutes later…. Rather short by their standards, she came downstairs, holding my cell phone.

“Slave…. your phone rang… and at a rather inopportune time.”

Oops. Apparently one of my older daughters had called in the midst of Mistress’s passionate throws with the Hitachi in hand and the WC on the phone.

“I hope it did not cause too much inconvenience, Mistress.”

Actually, I was rather amused.

“Well. I was just about there….”

“But you soldiered on….”

“Yes, Slave….”

In fact she still had that nice post-orgasmic flush. And it sounded like the WC got off in full measure too. Indeed, it sound like the special occasion cock had plenty of action yesterday, starting with some “epic” sex with his wife that morning.

How many for you, Mistress?”

“Just one, Slave…. B was on a run, so that’s all the time he had….”

Well at least the WC was doing more on his Sunday than sowing dissent in the ranks here at UCTMW.

And it was nice for Mistress to add a little extra excitement to her rainy day in River City.

A Subtle Reprimand for Our Staff

UCTMW WORLD ENTERPRISES, LLC

MEMORANDUM

TO: ALL STAFF

FROM: MICK COLLINS, EXECUTIVE EDITOR AND DIRECTOR OF HUMAN RESOURCES

RE: Excessive Sucking Up

Yes, mid-year reviews are coming up. I will be meeting with the CEO to go over your self -appraisals once submitted sometimes early in July.

But I note a disturbing tendency in recent days to an excessive amount of sucking up in the comments section.

“What a wonderful blog you have, Molly and Mick….”

“What a great community you have brought together here, Mick and Molly….”

And on and on.

It makes an old executive editor want to puke.

We certainly appreciate your devotion, but this sort of prattling sycophancy does  not become the crew of hard nosed, jaded, prurient and sometimes even crude “journalists” we’ve tried to assemble here at our burgeoning media empire.

You all sound more like Eddie Haskell than Lou Grant!!!!

Indeed, knowing each of your personal histories as I do, I expect your recent sucking up may be a subtle form of mockery, or, in the alternative, an attempt to curry favor for grander titles or preferable mast head positions. Lord knows you can’t expect cash bonuses at mid year, can you? 

Instead, the CEO would be more inclined to reinvest our profits in items that can expand our audience, like foxy lingerie for future photo “spreads”.

Better spend your time on arranging some type of product placement deal with a high end purveyor of silky nightwear, staff.

While I am at it, I wanted to mention one thing about your status on our “payroll”.

While we loosely refer to you on these pages as our “staff” with titles like “Senior Correspondent”. “Director of Security, International”, “Assotologist” etc., I want to make clear that you are actually independent contractors of UCTMW, LLC, and not “employees”.

We do not manage your day to day activities, requires you to clock in or out, or provide the tools you use to do your “work”. (Although you have gotten a few freebies from EdenFantasies.com.)

The distinction is important for several reasons, but I wanted to emphasize one today:  “Worker’s Compensation”.

We do not provide it!   

We are only required to provide worker’s comp coverage to actual employees.

I mention that because I know that both Bill and M have recently acquired a device for attachment to an Hitachi magic wand amounting to a cock sleeve.  Here is the photo Donna recently provided. M also sent a similar photo to Molly mentioning his plans to put it to good use on the so called “special occasion cock”.

I am not sure whether this device has been approved by the consumer product safety commission, but regardless, if injuries occur, such as a dislocated or desensitized member, WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE!

However, we are happy to print a product review when and if you ever figure out how to turn that device off.

Have a productive week, and please get those self-appraisals into the World HQ by July 1^st.

Licensed to.....

Well yesterday’s post here led to lots of interesting comments, and even Mistress weighed in at the end of our day. You may want to turn back a page to catch the “debate”, and get the WC’s more straightforward embrace of the male proclivity to stray.

On further reflection, maybe the young testosterone overloaded Mick was just exploiting a skill he nurtured in his high school days. If I had been a better bass player in that high school rock band, than I was getting  female members of the audience to “make out” with me after the show, maybe I would be an aging rocker, backing up Steely Dan now, rather than writing a sex blog for the entertainment of this “vast” audience.

When I went searching for that James Bond image, it opened up a another set of memories for me that I’ve been sorting through in the last day.

I recall seeing my first James Bond movie from the back seat of a friends car, at a Drive In movie theatre in up state NY, on the banks of the Hudson River. Apparently his parents thought "From Russia With Love was good entertainment for an 8th grader.

It was the summer of 1963. JFK was still with us.The Beatles had yet to appear on the Ed Sullivan show.

Here is the trailer – short on the special effects that came to dominate and deaden the series as it lumbered over the next few decades. Looks like there was even a bit of bondage tucked in.

Of course, I was hardly a  sexually educated dude on the cusp of 8th grade, I just knew that this guy was pretty danged cool, and seemed to have a charm that got a really nice looking blonde into bed with him. What happened next, who knew? But the concept has a certain compelling, if mysterious, appeal.

I learned later, most likely after the Assassination, that the novel the movie had been based on was one of JFK’s favorite books (was he role modeling James too?). The movie was the last one he saw before his murder in November of that year.

With that inspiration, as a teen I set aside Tom Swift and devoured the whole series of Ian Fleming’s novels, though one, Thunderball maybe,  was “seized” by a nun at my Catholic High School here in River City.

“I can’t believe that your parents allow you to read that smut, Mr. Collins.”

I suspected she and the other nuns passed that book from one to another back at the convent. Who knows what happened next in their little narrow beds.

So with role models like these, who can doubt why I responded to any sign of female attraction that crossed my bow. I mean, I was just getting read for my first assignment, once I obtained that License to Kill.

I liked the thought of the women I would encounter would someday be mumbling “Oh….Mick”, just like Tatiana and all the rest of the “Bond girls” in the series would sooner or later murmur, “Oh…. James….” at some point in the film. The Cold War would be won one seduction at a time.

Of course, that photo of Sean Connery brandishing his “special occasion firearm”, and its cheap phallic imagery, made it abundantly clear that sex mixed with violence was to be the formula for selling tickets. And sure enough, subsequent Bond marketing did not fall far from that tree. Here are just a few:

It's nice that Sean Connery sometimes only brandished a "work-a-day" firearm.

Yesterday Mistress chimed in with her own comments about the Male weakness for cheating. But what she has yet to share with us is her own motivation as a femme fatale.

You see, when she and I had our transcendent chemical reaction to one another back in the days of the short Greek from Massachusetts, she brought to the table her own little list of conquests.

Over the months she slowly disclosed her history to me, with one older guy after another falling for her devastating charms. And she was married too, but only about 26 at the time. By my calculation, she seemed to have as many extracurricular relationships / year as the older Mick. Who was her role model?

Don’t you think she owes us a little history about how and why all these men fell into her web?

I know I’d like to hear about it with the benefit of some hindsight. Wouldn’t you?