Chain LIghtning

This blog comes with it’s own music, linked here…. Through I had originally intended the song to be that old Allman Brothers tune, Whipping Post.

Ah well….

On Saturday, the college football game in South Bend, Indiana was interrupted not once, but twice, due to the proximity of thunder storms.

Well, on our Sunday switch day here at the UCTMW Mountain Zone Branch office, the same damn thing happened as well, though I think we put our rain delay to better use than the Fighting Irish.

I had planned for some outdoor switchery all along, but when I went outside after making Mistress some coffee I realized that the air was still a little too chilly for all that tender skin.

(Not that a few goose bunks would have killed her, but all that wheedling and whining would have driven me crazy. I suppose I need to acquire a nice gag for suck occasions.)

So  we “settled” for some conventional but very hot wake-up sex, with the understanding that I would have a raincheck for later that day.

As it turned out, that raincheck was very appropriate.

After our bike ride, breakfast, and some time in the sun reading the Times, I suggested that it was time for Mistress to face the music.

There was already a sturdy eye hook screwed into one of the posts that lold up our portal, and soon Mistress found herself with her wrists above her head, those little red cuffs locked in place.  Black ankle cuffs linked together kept her legs restrained.

I stepped inside to retrieve my camera and the riding crop that had been used with such gusto on me….. and that’s when I heard the first rumble of thunder.

“Slave… did you hear that?”

“What. Mistress?” ( I can play dumb with the best of them, just short of Rick Perry).

“Thunder Slave…. you’re not going to do this with lighting in the area, are you?”

Well I don’t necessarily play by the NCAA rule book, but a glance to the North revealed some rather large storm heads billowing over our Mountains and headed our way.

It’s a late “monsoon” season here, after a very dry summer, and the rain is welcome. But this particular storm was stepping on my weekly privileges.

So I was forced to expedite things:  Mistress received a sampler of thwacks on that cute and lush ass, then I deployed the power tool as she “struggled” against her bonds. The ankle bondage made it a little harder for her to spread her legs, and dragged out a bit the inevitable orgasm.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been using a power tool with lightning in the area but it seemed we still had a little margin for error. It wasn’t as if we had to evacuate a stadium full of fans, though I suspect the crowd at ND would have been more entertained by this little show than what they saw there in Saturday.

With a 2^nd orgasm completed (“punishment” for failing to ask permission before the first one), I unhooked Mistress from her post much more quickly than I had planned, and helped her inside to our bed.

Her wrists were reaffixed to a similar eyescrew at the bed, and I proceeded to fuck for a good long time. I mean, what else to do in a rain delay? Drink Gatorade and retape your ankles?

Sex led to a very long mid-afternoon nap, limbs entwined. When we woke up, the sun was back again, and Mistress asked if I would remove her wrist and ankle cuffs.

“Not now, Mistress, I’m not done with you yet…. We were interrupted by the storm, remember?”

She was a good sport, and she went back outside to her lounge chair, still naked, with her writ and ankle cuffs potentially creating tan lines. 

We both read a bit longer, until I thought it was time for a little more fun.

This time Mistress was allowed to remain in place, but with her wrists and ankles bound to the chair, the trusty power tool at the ready.  I figured there could be intermittent cumming and languishing for the rest of the afternoon for her, as I finished the paper at my leisure. I even smeared a little extra sunscreen on my “victim” to last a while.

That’s when I heard another peel of thunder…. Sure enough, a glance to the north should another round of storms approaching….

Once again I had to expedite my “game plan”, using the Hitachi to bring Mistress off two more times as she pulled against her bonds in frustration, with sprinkles beginning to fall just as she finished round two .

I suppose that was foolish of me – using that device even as  it was beginning to rain.  I hope it does not earn me a punishment, or a citation from OSHA.

Mistress Does Her Laundry

Some of you may have picked up that Mistress is an aficianado of Tie-Dye. And particularly when we are out here at the Mountain Zone Branch office, she seems to wear a lot of it. There is even a little store, just down the street, where Mistress has gone to get her fix for tie-dye dresses.

Well, yesterday she washed several of them, and let them air dry here in the cool mountain breeze, under our portal so to spare them too much of that bright high altitude sun.

(I suspect some of you are asking, why the Slave is trained to do this sort of task, but Mistress knows better than to trust me with her precious garments.... I spent my work hours weed whacking yesterday).

But with her tie-dye drying, what was Mistress to do.

She spent a good part of the day naked, mostly out on the patio, in various states of repose. I took a few surreptitious photos of her, as she read from her little kindle.

Then there was another, when she was napping in the sun.  (I hope she put on enough sun screen).

And another, with the kindle shielding those clean shaven folds.

Around this time, Mistress heard the little click of my camera, so my gig was up. "Make sure I get to approve those, Slave?"

And of course, she did get a chance to decide whether my photos could be shared with you.

As I was sitting at my little roll top desk in the shade, running through some emails, she did remind me of a task that I had been a little slow on the uptake to complete.

"I'm surprised you did not offer to worship, Slave.... "

Oops.  We had some rather satisfying wake-up sex earlier, but that had been a few hours earlier.

So I tossed a pillow on the hard brick of the patio and "chowed down". Mistress's normally spicy and seductive flavors mingled a bit with a little salt and some faint sun screen, but was very satisfying. and she seemed to enjoy it too.

Ouch.

Mistress and Slave finally made it to our destination yesterday: The UCTMW Mountain Zone Branch Office was in good shape, and the temperatures had fallen to manageable levels as we gained a little altitude and created some distance from Kansas.

But we did have time yesterday morning to have some wake-up sex in Colorado. Mistress’s skin seemed particularly soft and fragrant after that bubble bath the evening before, and since we had no schedule, I made sure to take my time to enjoy and relish every square inch of her.

Before we hit the road, we did stop by another “attraction”, “Bent’s Old Fort”, which sits on what used to be (in the 1840’s) the border between USA and Mexico, on the banks of the Arkansas “River”, which seems more like a meandering puddle this time of year.

It had a history as a fur trading post on the frontier, smack dab on the Santa Fe Trail. And we found what Donna suggested we should be shopping for: several vintage saddles that would work quite well should Mistress decide to take her Slave for a spin.

I’m not sure how comfortable that wooden one would be on my aging back, but I’m always game, if it pleases Mistress.

After our little trip through the history of the region, we were back in our car. Mistress napped. Slave drove, while juggling work emails. I wonder if those folks even knew I was so far away, tooling across the Comanche grasslands, where you could just imagine the herds of Bison, tracked by their human predators.

By late afternoon, we had made it: about 24 hours of driving and at least as much time lazing about and taking in the sights. Not a bad way to take some time off. Mistress has said it’s like a honeymoon for us – kids off on their own and some time to ourselves without a fixed schedule.

Nice.

But Slave stepped in it a bit shortly after our arrival, as clumsy Slaves are want to do.

We were unpacking groceries. It was after 5 pm on the east coast. I had mentally “retired” for the weekend.

And my damn cell phone went off.  I probably let out a curse of frustration. And then took the call outside to deal with a business associate who just had to have a last word before the weekend.

When I came back in, Mistress was, shall we say, “displeased”.

I had inadvertently re-awoken some memories from three summers ago, when Mistress and Slave were not in a good place. I won’t go into the details, but we were still on that commuter marriage, and Slave was being an asshole…. True.

I certainly did not want to throw a damper on our first evening here in paradise, so I offered myself up….or I guess I offered my ass up.

“Would you like me to get the riding crop, Mistress?”

(In all honesty, I was probably hoping that the offer alone might be enough to defuse the situation…alas….)

She contemplated a minute, and then agreed.

“That’s a good idea, Slave…. go get it.”

She unpacked her bag, and directed me to “lose the pants and underwear”.

Soon I was lying back side up across our bed, and she was lighting into me.

“This is for taking that asshole tone, Slave….and reminding me of a time I’d rather forget….”

Man, that hurt. I was bouncing off the bed with each stroke. Biting into the quilt to stifle my crys of pain, doing all I could do to resist the impulse to avoid her blows. 

I probably was acting like a spoiled Slave (as many of you probably think I am.)

But I think from my pathetic display, Mistress knew that her message had been received.

When she finally concluded that I had my just punishment, she put down the crop and picked up her I-phone camera.

“Stay still Slave…. I’m going to email you this photo and want you to post it tomorrow to show all our blog friends what happens when my Slave misbehaves.”

“Yes, Mistress….”

Report From the Road

Mistress and Slave are in no hurry on this journey to the UCTMW Mountain Zone Branch Office.

Wednesday evening found us getting off the highway early, and strolling through the quiet streets of Independence. Apparently it may be the last refuge of fans of Nancy Sinatra, based on the outfit we saw in a shop window, after closing time. Otherwise I'm sure Mistress would have been tempted to get her spangles on.

Yesterday, one of you suggested that we make sure to engage in a sex act in each state we passed through on our journey. Well unfortunately, we rushed too quickly through Indiana and Illinois, but made up for time and opportunities lost in Missouri. If anyone had been watching we "showed 'em".



We toured the Harry Truman Library and Museum before hitting the highway for that long drive through Kansas.

It was 108 degrees, the wind was blowing straight from Hades. The gas stations had "storm shelters" and sold Wizard of Oz T-shirts.  Around 4 pm, I pulled into an historic sight - an old Cavalry Fort that stood watch over the Santa Fe Trail. The car told me it was down to 106 degrees.

"Mistress, what if we find some shade, and I give you a quick cum, just to knock Kansas off our punch list."

She gave me that withering look.

"It's so damn hot slave, I can't even think about having an orgasm...."

When Mistress says that, well .... you can tell it's hot.

Mistress cranked up the laptop as we headed into Holcomb, Kansas.  She has a strange fascination with "In Cold Blood". Soon we were at the foot of the drive of the Clutter Family Home. Visitors were clearly told they were not welcome.  The hot wind was still blowing. Very creepy. (Bit not so creepy that Mistress did not record a little video for her facebook page).

So we went from Harry Truman to Truman Capote in one day.

As the sun began to set, and we crossed into Colorado, we started making plans for the night.  The town of Las Animas had an "attraction" I wanted to see in the am.  Again, the laptop led us to a little charmingly named spot, across from the Dairy Queen. Mistress reserved over the phone, as Slave dodged tumbleweed.

 The price was right.

But then as we approached town, I noted this sign:

"Do not pick up hithchikers. Penitentiary Nearby."

Hmmm.

"Oh... I forgot to mention, Slave. When they quoted a rate, they asked if we had a AAA, AARP or "prison" discount."

As we pulled into town, there was the "charming" Inn, across from the DQ. Low slung, shabby. If "skanky" applies to inanimate objects, it would work here.

We both had images of night visitors from the local prison, not unlike the Clutters.

The vote was unanimous. After a dinner at a Mexican Cantina, with fellow diners that Mistress described as the cast of a David Lynch movie, we moved on....

Fortunately, the next town yielded a more serviceable lodging, even with a Jacuzzi. The hot bubbly bath led us to some Colorado action to please our readers.

Donna, Mistress did not have time to pick up a saddle yesterday. So she had to ride this cowboy bareback.