I'm getting this quickie blog in the can a little early because Molly and Mick are climbing our local mountain in the am, and we need to get an early start to avoid any afternoon thunderstorms. (Yes this photo is where we are headed. It will be about 7 hours up and back down).
And since Donna appears to be under wraps in that dungeon this week, no doubt doing some investigative reporting that will appear on these pages in the weeks to come, I've no one to call on for a filler blog.
You will be amused to know that when Mistress woke this am, she had absolutely no recall of our late night, under the stars, worship session out on the patio. Apparently she consumed a little more wine than I calculated during our evening out.
"Are you sure that happened, Slave?"
"Would I make that up, Mistress?"
Other than that, our day was a little same old same old: worship, biking, nude sun bathing, afternoon sex, nap, dinner out on our patio as the sun set. Slave did get some out door Slave duties taken care of, including cutting back the red willows that are starting to block our view, and repairing our latilla fence. Just don't mistake me for Dubya, with that brush clearing thang.
All in all, It's a tough assignment here at our Branch Office. But someone has to take it on.
More tomorrow, if the Big Horn Sheep don't get us!
With no work emails to distract us, we settled in for a laid back Labor Day here in the high desert.
First, some wake up sex, after Mistress read the blog, and then enjoyed catching up with Aisha and her emerging adventure with Sir X.
Then I loaded our bikes on the car for a drive North about 30 minutes to an amazing park that sits along the ridge of the Rio Grande gorge, looking down to where it joins with the Red River. It’s a long challenging 16 mile ride there at about 8000 ft. altitude, that confirms the old dog has some spring in his step yet.
The chamisa was blooming a bright yellow thanks to some recent rainfall, and the smell of sage infused the air as we toured a roller coaster of ups and down along our chosen circuit. By the time we were done, my ass was substantially sorer than it was after Mistress applied the riding crop on Saturday.
Back at home, Mistress retired to her lounge chair, naked as always when we are solo here. I couldn’t help but snap a photo of her, and made sure I did not have to be reminded to worship.
AS the sun slipped lower in the sky, we adjourned to our chambers, for a nap, and a little more love making before heading out to a favorite local roadhouse for enchiladas and music.
For some reason it was an older crowd there last night.
“I think the average age here is 70, Slave.”
But they were a feisty lot, out two stepping and twirling on the dance floor as the local troubador strummed and crooned old country classics. Outside the sun was setting, and dancers filled the patio too, where a fire lit the darkening sky.
Muy romantico.
“The honeymoon continues, Slave….”
“It sure does, Mistress.”
We drank wine, lingered at our table. Danced close and cuddly, dodging the more florid moves around us.
Then we found ourselves at home, naked again, out on our patio, the moon lighting the mountains behind us, the milky way overhead.
I eased Mistress down onto her lounge chair again.
“What are you up to Slave?”
“A little desert, Mistress.”
Fortunately, the pillow that protected my knees earlier that afternoon was still sitting there, waiting for me.
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 2nd 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.
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.
