Teddy Roosevelt Slept Here

Mistress and the sullen teen got home just long enough on Saturday, late morning, to shower, repack, and then climb in the car with me for a 4 hour drive to the south for a family funeral.

Sadly, our schedule did not allow even for a “quickie” before my over traveled Mistress was back on the road again, and the presence of our daughter in the back seat even restricted our ability to improvise with a little smutty talk and groping on our drive.

This is a big family gathering for Mistress. A Matron of the family had passed, and cousins, aunts and others from far and ride were all arriving. In this smallish town to pay tribute.

Once we arrived, Slave was concerned that there might not be a chance to relieve the pent up sexual demand from those long, hard days of denial any time soon.

(I know, I am a spoiled and pampered house Slave, Tammy…. But still…I have been conditioned for indulgence, not denial).

But Mistress and Slave are also clever and conniving . a block of rooms had been booked at a rather shopworn Fairfield Inn, and that’s where the sullen teens and their grandmother and others would be lodged.

But under the ruse that we did not want to take up the limited supply of rooms reserved for family, Mistress found something a bit more sumptuous, and private for our little reunion : an old Victorian Inn, not far from the river bank.

And, what a shame!  we got the last room available.  

"Sorry girls, the place was full, so you will have to stay where grandma and the others are staying...."

The teens were cleverly dropped off to check in and clean up for the big family meal. Now the clock was ticking. We had about 90 minutes.

We found the lovely old painted lady, the paint a bit faded, but the interiors very charming. And the Old Bull Mooser actually did stay here once.

I hope the Inn keeper was not too offended when we politely turned down his invitation for a tour of his mansion.

“Actually, we can look around later…. Just show us to our room, please.”

And what a room. Bay windows. Period furnishings. And a lovely huge four poster bed.

Once the bed was closed, Mistress was in my arms.

“Damn. Wish I had remembered some ropes for switch day, Mistress.”

“Do you really think it would be polite to do switch day, and then go to a funeral, Slave?”

“What did the old rough rider say, Mistress, ‘speak softly, but carry a big stick?’ At least I should have brought our  riding crop.”

We quickly unpacked our things, stripped off those traveling  duds and pulled back the sheets.

It had been since Tuesday morning after all.

Mistress’s delicious clean shaven parts were ready for my full attention.

And when she seemed pleased with my efforts, she lavished her cock with plenty of attention as well.  (BTW, Mistress’s technique is much more polished than what a certain Presidential candidate demonstrated at the Iowa state fair over the weekend.)

“May I fuck you now, Mistress.”

“You seem a little impatient, Slave….”

“Well…. I mean…. It’s been a few days, Mistress…. “

She was driving me crazy with her lips and those well manicured fingers.  And she knew it.

But she finally relented when it seemed my level of frustration had turned to code red.

“Why don’t I ride my cock now, Slave….”

It was an excellent idea.

Our Senior Correspondent On Positive Discipline

It’s a common joke that it is difficult to discipline a masochist because they enjoy it. I maintain that a Dom who really understands his or her sub will know exactly how to create an appropriate discipline. Bill would be one of those Doms.

Recently, I made a huge mistake in judgment and Bill reacted swiftly with a punishment that really was a tough disciplinary measure for me. He had me write an email to my closest BDSM blog friends, Doms, Dommes and subs, explaining my prideful lack of good judgment in a situation. I cried; I said my friends didn’t need to know what happens to me physically; I said they would think me weak and never see me the same again.  And as soon as those words came out of my mouth, I knew that once again I was more concerned about the opinion others would have of me than what my Dom wanted for me. Bill took my face in his hands as he said, “Baby, I will not back down from this. You put yourself in a situation of causing more damage to your body due to your pride, and I won’t have it happen again. Write the letter.”

I am sharing this because both the writing of the letter and receiving responses from Molly, Mick, Suzanne, nilla and others has had a huge positive impact on me. I have learned the lesson well and along the way have learned about the support in our community of BDSM bloggers.

Here is the letter:

Dear Friends,

I made some poor decisions earlier this week and Bill decided that as discipline I would write to you and tell you not only about my errors in judgment, but also share the physical difficulties brought on by my actions.

I know he is correct in thinking you will understand how difficult this is for me to do and also know that this is a tougher punishment than any he has administered in a long time.

I know this is done out of love for me.

On Thursday I met with an acquaintance from (city where we once lived) who I know to be a gossip. I cannot walk or move as well as I could when we left (that city) and I did not want the woman to go back there and present me as being weak or unhealthy.

Offense: I did not take care of Bill’s property in a manner that would keep his property healthy and happy. I am his submissive; I am his property.

1)  I argued with Bill that I was perfectly capable of driving to (meeting location) alone. Bill insisted that he would drive, drop me off and go look for a bookstore.

2)  I argued with Bill that I would rather use my crutches than my wheelchair. Bill felt the restaurant seats might be uncomfortable and that getting up and down without someone there to help me would be difficult. I talked to him about my embarrassment when my wheelchair sticks out into aisles and when restrooms are not truly wheelchair accessible. He agreed that I could use the crutches as long as I agreed to ask for assistance if needed.

 3) I have trouble regulating my body temperature and when we read that Thursday would be a day of record heat, Bill suggested I call and cancel. I argued that this woman was going to keep bugging us and I might as well get it over with and that with air conditioning in the car and the restaurant I assured him I would be fine.

Outcome:

1)  Bill was correct, I could not have driven that far. Explanation below.

2)  The seats in the restaurant were very bad and I almost fell trying to get up and out of the seat by myself. I didn't ask for help. Bill was right; I would have been more comfortable and safer if I had used my wheelchair.  

3)  The air conditioning in the restaurant wasn’t working correctly but I thought I could take the heat and didn’t call Bill to pick me up early. Due to the heat, by the time Bill picked me up I was already having some problems. I lost muscle control and could not remain sitting upright in the car on the trip back home. By the time we arrived home I was in fairly bad shape. Bill had to put me into bed, prop my body in position with pillows and force fluids. I began having seizures a few hours later and had to increase the dosage on seizure medications. I had to spend Thursday evening, all day Friday and most of Saturday propped upright in a recliner or bed.

My vanity and stubbornness in wanting to appear less disabled than I really am resulted in harm to Bill’s property and will not be permitted to happen again.  

The truth is that I am where I am physically and the people who truly care about us will deal with that. What anyone else would think or say is inconsequential and not our problem.  

Thank you.
Love,
Donna

I deserved that punishment and, as opposed to feeling belittled, I found the responses restorative. The Doms/Dommes were clear in reinforcing that I had made serious errors in judgment, that I am, indeed, Bill’s property, and they hoped I had learned from this experience. Each of them also gave me a little positive stroke, a kind word. The subs were right in the trenches with me, understanding how hard it was for me to write the letter and every single one of them made a comment about how fortunate I am to have a Dom who knows me so well and cares so much for me that he would know exactly how to turn this experience into a lesson I would never forget.

And they were right. He is an amazing Dom, he knows me well and I appreciate that he loves me enough to discipline me when needed.

Hugs to all,
Donna

Countdown

With little to report from River City, I am resorting once again to sultry images of Mistress from adventures past to catch your eye. I hope you will take the photo as a fair substitute for recounting any adventures here, where  I remain a sad and lonely Slave, pining for my Mistress.

I wonder if she'll remember the when and where of this particular switch day if she has a chance to look at the blog this morning before she and the sullen teen head out for their final day of college visits before they head back to us here tomorrow morning.

Our WC understands how bereft of bloggable content I am without Mistress here as my muse. At some point yesterday afternoon he sent be a text message; "This is no way to find bog fodder."

So true, WC.

Once again, I spent my workday in the cage. I was fortunate to get early release authorization as I drove home last night, allowing me to go for a bike ride before assuring that the elder teen was well fed. I'm marveling that she is staying home and making her Dad tend to her needs, only a week before she heads off to start the next phase of her life.

Then I settled into watching the enemy combatants take the stage for the latest GOP Presidential debate. Scary stuff for those of you who think that those who hope to lead our diminished nation should have at least some limb planted in reality. The only mildly amusing Q and A was when some hapless reporter asked the Congresswoman from Mars , errr, Minnesota, what she meant when she said she was happy to "submit" to her husband, as the bible dictates.

Sadly, the response did not involve anything to do with chains, collars, or cock worship. and if you've checked out Marcus Bachmann, you can probably understand why.

But then Michelle showed her claws, bitch slapping her former Governor into a cowering hunk of flesh. I wonder how many stitches it took for his cut man to close the claw marks she left on his face during their next poddy break.

Maybe Michelle is really more Domme than Sub.


Last night, as we talked before bedtime, Mistress and I came to grips with the fact that  suddenly it is now  less than a week before our little nest is cleared out. I know, you've been hearing this dumbeat for a while now. But, in reality, the time has flown for us.

This weekend, we have a family funeral to attend a few hours away. The girls will be joining us, which is going to cramp our hopes for some quick and dirty goings on after these four nights of solitude. Then, back in River City on Sunday night, we need to get them packed up and ready to fly: one off to Europe on Wednesday for her final year of high school; the other off to college on Thursday just 90 minutes or so away.

So while things may be a little harried here, with not nearly enough time for our typical naughty these next few days..... a week from this morning we will be waking in our empty home.  

Stay tuned.

Now it's time for Slave to go shower, cage up, and face the day.

Have a good one all, and if you see Mistress on the streets of Boston today, tell her her Slave misses her.

HNT / Greatest Hits

Not much to report here at the World HQ. Mistress is on the east coast with our sullen teen. Slave is back here, wearing his cage to work and staying out of trouble .... not that I could get into much trouble with that cage locked tight.

The best I can do for you is a little trip down memory lane for those Mistress fans out there:

Here she is, surveying our little chink of heaven out West.

And there she is, primping before a day at work, sporting those teal undies.

I know she'd rather be sunbathing at 7000 feet, than in the sea level bustle out East.

And while we both love the summer, one thing that's nice about the cold weather months here are her sexy black tights.

Of course, I believe I've gotten her approval of these photos in the past, but if she dislikes any of them, I may have to be concerned about getting left in my cage longer than I'd like.  Which brings to mine this historic image, which no doubt could become a collector's item for some of the Collins clan: