Mistress Held Hostage!

It was a rather busy day here in River City for Mistress and her devoted Slave.

First, I was up at 4:30 am, to chauffeur the cute Co-Ed, and her Grandparents to the airport for spring break in the Caribbean. (These particular grandparents will splurge on first class airfare, but don't realize they actually having parking at the airport). I was home by about 6:30 am, but let Mistress sleep in a little longer. By the time I was given the "all clear" to rejoin her in the Executive Suite, I couldn't tell which of my primal needs required attention first -- sexual release, or a little more shuteye.

But knowing Mistress as you do, dear readers, I think you know what happened next. And after she was suitably pleasured and I had been given permission to cum, there was time enough for a little more sleep as Mistress waded back into the morass of her AM in-box.  It may be time to hide that profile and her hot-legs from the randy crowd there until she can complete interviewing her current list of finalists.

After a little more time in bed, we headed to our gym.  Mistress had spinning class, and I did the elliptical machine until my "dates" arrived: my daughter and two cute grandsons, who were coming to enjoy the compact indoor "water park" on one of the closer days of the winter here.

As we were splash splashing, Mistress came to kiss me goodbye, heading off to the dreaded local Apple store to deal with some strange problem with her email on her sleek and relatively new and paper thin laptop.

Of course, it was barely a week ago that Mistress and Slave had to navigate the Apple Store at Le Opera in Paris - an elegant, marble clad showplace that apparently is the pride of the Jobsian fleet these days. Not the cool moussiers in black lighting their Gallouses out front.  And the balcony and skylight inside.

In contrast our local Apple "salon" is a cramped, drop ceiling affair, stuffed into just another  midwestern mall hardly noted for its people watching. Usually it is packed with frustrated, confused and fashion challenged consumers, competing for the  attention from smug and geeky "Geniuses". (See photo below, like the shorts and sneakers look on a cold day?)


Because of my long standing mall allergy, I made some other plans-- doing a little maintenance work on our "dungeon" / rental property in the City. But as the afternoon progressed I received increasingly frustrated up-dates via cell phone from Mistress on the slow progress in "cleaning out" the mess caused when "mobile me" meets "the cloud". It actually sounds worse than the storm fronts that went through here yesterday.

It wasn't until about 5 hours later that Mistress finally got home, rejoining me in bed, where I was hoping for  a nap before our trip to the theatre last night.  Then she explained the strange events of her day.

"I was held hostage, Slave, by a retired cop who was flirting with me.... I'm convinced he kept dragging it out so I wouldn't leave."

"Was he cute, Mistress?"

"Hardly.... about my size, kind of pasty....are any genius's 'cute'?"

"Well I am never clear on your taste Mistress, as we've learned from the folks who do or do not make your AM cut...."

She explained how her genius concluded that somehow when another genius moved her data from one defective laptop to another a few weeks back, things got "confused", and her emails, photos, and contacts all began replicating like horny bunnies.  So somehow all that extra stuff had to be leached away to make things right again.... this took hours of his valuable  time, as he induced Mistress to hover over him, and attempted to entertain her with his snappy ex-cop patter.

"He kept telling me about folks he had busted, later coming on for Apple Care, and doing a double take when they learned that the undercover guy who bought pot from them was now their Genius."

"Oh, I bet those are fun stories...."

"At one point I asked whether it's true that marijuana is more expensive now than it used to be.... and he asked "how do you know what it used to cost, sweetie"...

"Great....and this is the guy who was spending the whole day sorting through your email accounts, photos and contacts?"

"Exactly.... sometime in all this he asked me what this "BigLove" email account was for...." (that's the account you can use to contact us here, dear UCTMW readers)

"And you said?"

"Oh I probably blushed, and mumbled something that made no sense. It was about that time  that he said... 'you've been gone so long, I bet your husband thinks you're having an affair'...."

"Did you tell him you have a contractual right to have affairs, Mistress?"

"NO.... I didn't want to give him any ideas, Slave."

Mistress ran some errands at the mall and had her nails done, continuing to check back with her ex-cop but without success. Finally she gave up, and arranged to pick up her lap-top later today.  I wonder if he'll be back on duty to offer further "services".

"So all the geniuses may be back there at the store nownow, grazing through your photos and emails, Mistress?  I wonder if there is a genius code of ethics we can rely on?"

And since there may well be a few stray and self-replicating photos of the WC's special occasion cock in there, let's hope we've not given a crop of geniuses deep  feelings of their own inadequacy this weekend.

Dispatch from Our Senior Correspondent: On Disconnecting

Slave had to be up very early this AM to haul our Cute Co-ed and her grandmother to the airport. It's spring break, and she's hitched a ride for a family get-away to the Caribbean.  So I asked Donna to pitch in to cover today's blog.

But there was a little action here  last night which I will briefly share: we had arranged to meet a friend at our little in city home, which is between tenants right now. It actually would make a great dungeon / play space, a subject we have discussed on prior occasions here. But as we were arriving, having left work a little early, the local media went into a "Storm-a-geddon" frenzy, with the prospect of thunderstorms and even a tornado.  Our friend canceled on us, fearful, apparently, that some vengeful old testament god must have determined that our innocent rendezvous was verbotten (or however you say that in Hebrew).

This left Mistress and Slave with time on their hands, in our now unfurnished home.... with a bottle of wine and our laptops. Could be trouble, right?  


Fortunately there was a rug on a floor.... and Mistress had on those delightful peek-a-boo tights.  Need I say more? Now, here's Donna's piece....

I had a rather serious talk with Lee recently. As far as I know, he was unaware that his spouse, Linda, had talked to me about the same topic just a few weeks ago.

Bill and I have known this couple for about 15 years, having met them through mutual BDSM friends. The couple is in their early 50s, with three teenagers, one in college and two in high school, a family dog and a case of the sexual doldrums. They love each other deeply but, for all intents and purposes, their sex life has ground to a halt. Well, not a complete halt, they still have OSR, Obligatory Sexual Relations on their anniversary, Valentine's Day, Christmas and birthdays, but linking up is rare other than those times.

For any couple that would seem wrong, but for many years Lee and Linda were hip deep into the BDSM dungeon scene, they were movers and shakers of the kinky kind, and they both enjoyed wearing leather and riding his Harley. When their kids were young they would leave them with the grandparents for a weekend every now and then and escape on the Harley for a romantic camping trip, and these lovers were once adamant about the importance of their date nights. So what happened?

Life and technology, that's what happened. Their careers took off. The kids signed up to be involved in everything they (or their friends) thought might be fun, resulting in every evening, weekend and holiday being filled with not only homework, but athletic events, music lessons, scouts, dancing, bike racing, choir and a ton of school organizations.

And, as time passed, both Lee and Linda became attached by an invisible umbilical cord to work, to the kids. to friends and relatives through their Smartphones and laptops, which are never, ever turned off. In essence, though they are sometime the only two humans in the room, they are never alone. Their privacy and their ability to disconnect from everything else and focus only on one another is gone.

Lee asked whether I thought things would ever get back to where they had been years earlier. My answer was this: things are going to be better than they have ever been before. You need to hang in there, you may need to make a few adjustments for the good of the kids, but things are going to be great! And I really think they will.

I told him that the old stories about sexual urges declining in women as we age was a load of bull, probably written by cloistered men who believed that sex was only for making babies! Women orgasm harder and more often, and enjoy sex more, not less, as we mature. As I aged and our kids grew up, the world of sex became a bigger, brighter place with flashing lights spelling out the words CUM and ENJOY! Or it may have been ENJOY CUMMING!, but you get the point.

Since Lee clearly wanted a faster solution, I suggested considering some changes for the kids. How about allowing them to grow up a bit? I suggested he let them do their own homework and school projects without their parents looking over their shoulders. They're in high school for Pete's Sake. Once the kids have that idea under their belts, teach them not to call all the time. Certainly there are circumstances when  parents want to be sure the kids can reach them, but if the kids are home (supposedly) doing homework, they don't need to call repeatedly. Sit outside on the porch swing with each other, maybe even holding hands and playing kissy face and groping each other a bit while the kids do their homework!

The next step is to dress up and go out to an adult dinner together and tell the kids they may only call if it's an absolute emergency, and you may need to define emergency. Once they get the idea that they don't have to call every half hour, reinstate the date nights on a regular basis. Maybe you could visit a dungeon and work up to spending some time there.

The next idea was that they let their bedroom become a sexy place again, that they close and lock their bedroom door at night to allow the adults to be spontaneous during the night. I also suggested they go shopping together to buy some new sex toys and sexy lingerie and keep them in the nightstand drawer or in some easy to access rolling boxes under the bed. If the teens find the toys and cop an attitude, the response is, "Just what were you doing in my room without my permission?" End of story. Don't engage them. Adults have a right to privacy and personal possessions, and don't have to answer to the kids.

And finally, my last suggestion was about work. There are career choices that require people be on call, physicians, tow truck companies, Secret Service, funeral homes, lawyers, etc., but in many cases it has become a bad habit to take care of business during non-business hours. Disconnect. Let fellow people at work know you are disconnecting for a romantic dinner or a lover's get-away with the person who means the world to you. It doesn't have to be expensive to be meaningful, and maybe it will plant some ideas with others at work, too. At some point it might even expand to meals without phones ringing, imagine that.

Eventually the kids will be on their own and my friends will be back to more regular participation at the dungeons, will have ramped up their kink and it will be unusual when they don't have sex one day rather than when they do. They are great people and deserve to be happy sexually as part of their everyday lives.

Hugs,
Donna


Oh, and on the subject of phones, please, please don't take your phone into the bathroom with you. Really, I can wait until you are finished. There is nothing I have to say or need to hear you say that won't wait until you finish business and wash and dry your hands. Honest.

Revisiting the UCTMW Employee Handbook

Yesterday, on the drive home from work, Mistress was flashing some black tights and boots, distracting her loyal chaufeur a bit as I dodged and weaved through rush hour traffic. It was so unfair.... I wanted to focus on sliding my hands up those firm and well exercised thighs, but the traffic required more attention than usual.

Mistress noticed where my eyes kept darting.

"You know Slave.... it's almost spring. Soon the tights will get packed away until fall. "

"No problem, Mistress.... those legs look mighty fine naked."

Mistress is not much for pantyhose of the conventional kind. Either it's black tights or naked legs for her.

"But I'm awfully pale.... need to get a bit more tan for naked leg season, Slave."

It seems early for that, but the sun will come. And at some point, the traffic ground to a short halt, allowing me to pull out my I-phone and snap a shot of those lovely legs to share (maybe I should rotate hot shots on her AM page to keep the drooling masses amused?)  In any event, you can see how a slave can get distracted. 

At home we went for a twilight bike ride - the sun had been out all day and temperatures were in the 50's. Afterwords I made sure Mistress was suitably worshipped.

"Am I a little gamey down there, Slave?"

"Just the way I like it."

After dinner, we spent a little time sorting through Mistress's AM applicants -- the culling was a little cruel, but you have to do what you have to do.

"Am I being too superficial, Slave", she asked as a brief perusal of one applicant's "private showcase" left him in the dustbin of history.

"Well it's sort of like the admissions process at some Ivy League school, Mistress... a lot of potentially great candidates get left behind."

Of course, some were easier to cull than others. As an example, if your "handle" was derived from a brand of farm equipment, or you liked to use the word "ur", that might be a quick way to end up on the cutting room floor.  Under age 37 also seemed to be a hard line. And for the most part, 120 miles distance seemed a disqualifier -- though there was one guy from Canada who's photo seemed to leave Mistress agog. He remained on the list.

Slave was just taking orders in my role as recording secretary.

We even prepared a little spread sheet with the names, locales and key characteristics of the prospects that Mistress found tempting. By the end of the evening she had responded via email to a select few, asking for a little more information.

We will keep you updated -- sort of.

Amidst all this we did get a call from one of our far flung staff members,  asking for a refresher course on our employment policies.

To be clear, unlike many employers, we have a more "permissive" attitude when it comes to relationships between employees and officers here. With so few employees, we fall below the threshold where those pesky federal laws prohibiting sex discrimination and harassment come into play. And since most of our employees are out of state, it seems unclear whether even our home state's laws apply. So our policy on sexual harassment is a little "sketchy".

As a general rule, we do not have any hard lines when it comes to creating a "hostile working environment". We figure this is a god damned sex blog! If you aren't comfortable talking about sex, being subject to sexual taunting, propositioned, or seeing hot photos of the Publisher laying around, or posted by the coffee pot, then maybe you should look for a job at Reader's digest.

AS for Quid Pro Quo harassment -- the type where getting ahead at work is conditioned on responding favorably for requests for sexual favors - we figure who would turn down a come on from our Publisher, anyway? Plus, she's pretty darn selective.

And of course, since the Executive Editor is strictly accountable to the Publisher, and has to wear a cock cage at all staff meetings or "retreats". So he poses little threat of demanding a blow job in return for a raise, doesn't he?

Nor do we have a policy prohibiting "Fraternization". That's the kind that says employees may not have "personal" relationships with one another, usually designed to avoid a sexual harassment claim down the road, when one party or another decides it's time to move on to the next hot secretary or purchasing manager.  In fact, considering our ongoing need for "blog-fodder", a little sexual hi-jinks behind the file cabinet could well be an inspiration.

Of course, we would prefer employees to do that sort of thing without charging their sex toys and lubricants to the company credit card without pre-approval.

And this is one employer that will not have a religious or conscientious objection to including birth control on our generous (if high co-pay) health insurance plan. There's nothing more annoying than having to pay a temp during someone's long pregnancy leave!

Have I made all that clear, staff?

HNT / Her Inbox Runneth Over

For those of you who were concerned about poor Mick's long, wrenching, nearly 40 hours of abstinence, that problem resolved itself around 8 pm last night, and quite nicely I might add. Mistress compounded my desperation by instructing me to insert my "device" (the aneros), which took old Mr. work-a-day cock to Dev Con 4 in no time. But I made sure to worship those clean shaven folds first before humbly asking for permission to fuck her.

But today's blog is not about that (or the hot early morning sex we had already today .... still adjusting to Euro-time I suppose), but about the rather impressive results that hot little picture to your right had on Mistress's Ashley Madison in-box yesterday.

AS you my recall, Mistress had listed herself on AM several weeks ago in her ongoing attempt to recruit that perfect part-time Dom / Cuckold collaborator that has so far eluded us here at UCTMW. (See the original posting to the right among our "most popular" blogs.) Maybe we just have "All Mine" envy, but the search has been a little frustrating.

Anyway, back to AM.

Mistress's original post was sans photo. And although a few emails and "admirers" popped up over the last few weeks - including one or two worth investigating further, the pickings had been relatively slim.

"Too many short guys, Slave....and guys who can't spell....."

I had suggested posting a discrete but alluring photo as a little extra "honey", and while Mistress was away she gave me to go ahead.

So I posted the photo above and .... Cowabunga....

Mistress first noticed the "hot legs" effect yesterday afternoon, as a colleague drove her car back from our flat state capitol, and texted me.

"It's stunning, Slave.... they just keep coming."

I flipped open my lap top to confirm.

"No, you're stunning, Mistress... you need a full time social secretary to vet these for you."

"That's your job, Slave...."

So... last night, after the hot reunion sex, as Mistress lay by my side, I helped her cull the maddened herd.  By then there were about 350 messages in her in-box. Some were these lame "You have an admirer", solicitations for a response. Some offered "keys" to their private photo array. Lots of naked, muscular torsos to be seen. Rock solid Abs must be popular with the AM crowd.

Others were more personal messages, some with a little substance... other's with the rather uninviting "want to chat".  They came from as far as London (England, not Ky.) and Park City, Utah. But most were in our neck of the woods .... give or take an hour or two.

Mistress applied some crude screens.... no one under 5'10'' ... no one with cock shots in their "private portfolio". No Tea Partiers.  And please, no photos with your wife or significant other.

But even then, the task was rather overwhelming. She updated the profile to make it clear what her selection criteria were .... the minimum height.... well educated and read... she's not here to be your therapist. And please, no Tea Partiers.

We wonder if that will slow the flow.

The most interesting thing to watch was how Mistress screened folks based on photos. It was hard for me to tell what she considered to be "attractive" or "ugh".  But a lot of folks did not make her "cut" based on physical appearance.

"Am I too superficial, Slave?"

"No... you know what works, and what doesn't. But I do have a concern.... if my face popped up.... the oldish guy with no hair on top... would on end up in the dust bin at AM?"

"Of course not Slave.... you're still very handsome...."

She gave me a little kiss, to confirm her ongoing affection. 

More on all this later, dear readers.  I have some deleting to do over in Mistress's overflowing in-box.