Cash Crop?

Yesterday I was driving to a meeting and had a chance to talk to Donna. She described Bill's efforts to find some blueberry bushes for developing  a little side business, and the thought of some fresh blueberries made Slave's mouth water.

After my meeting, I headed over to the home we own in the City, between tenants now. I had a couple of hours, some work to do in my bag, and wasn't inclined to head back downtown to the office.

AS it turned out it was a lovely afternoon, but a little too warm and humid to sit on the patio with my work.  But I did step through the back yard, what there is of it, to see what maintenance needed to be done this weekend.

What amazed mew was the burgeoning bamboo stand, that had spread like crazy even in the week or so since I had last stopped by.  Apparently a neighbor had planted bamboo about 25 yards up a hill from our yard about 10 years ago. But once the roots spreads, the shoots pop up everywhere, and fast.  Some of the tall stand alone plants you see here were not even visible two weeks ago.  Now they are taller than me. 

They seem to get long and firm as quickly as the WC's special occasion cock when he is getting one of those Waxing's of his on the UCTMW's AMEX card.

But this got me thinking. Rather than rent our little house out, maybe I should simply grow bamboo, dry it cure it and sell it on the internet to all you kinky folks into caning!

As you can see, these rods, are slim, whippy and I bet they sting like hell.  I could provide them in various lengths and sizes.  Maybe even decorate them or include fancy handles?

To do a little market research, I may want to rap some up and male them to Bill so he can try them out on Donna at his convenience.  And if I had an address for Suzanne, well, I'd be happy to send her a few too, to experiment with on Tammy, or maybe Sophie.  A little initial market research would be money well spent.  I may even pick up a few shoots to try ou here at the UCTMW World HQ on "switch" day. 

As it turned out, Mistress got off work a little earlier than planned. We had planned to meet at our City house and then head over to a fund raising event nearby.  So with a little extra time on our hands....

There was a blanket handy. The upstairs bed room was carpeted.  Pretty soon Mistress was naked, her legs spread and those clean shaven folds spread out before me.

Yum.

And Slave was naked too, by the way.  Once she was satisfied with the work of my lips and tongue, she deployed her own lips on her work-a-day cock and gave Slave permission to fuck her.

"It's the 2nd time for me in tow days on the floor, Slave....."

Ah yes, Thursday night at J's "love shack".

"Oh dear.... don't want to give you a sore back, Mistress."

Trust But Verify

The highlight of my Thursday was shortly after I put the blog to bed here and crept up the stairs to Mistress.  After she woke from her slumber her first question was "did you remember your ring, Slave?"

"Absolutely, Mistress...."

I think she's missed what that hard steel ring does when it traps my engorged cock and balls in its grip.

Sure enough, after I had finished my morning devotions to her clean shaven folds, my cock was throbbing for her, the ring putting not inconsiderable pressure at it's root.

"Why don't you fuck me now, Slave....."

No further manipulations were required on her part.... just some encouragement. 

"Ahhhh..... nice Slave....."

What ensued was some intense love making in our executive suite, and a rather explosive cum for me once Mistress waved the green flag with her consent.

After that, it was business as usual.  We showered. I slid the "cap" over my now shrunken cock, and presented myself to her to click the lock closed. 

"That should keep you out of trouble today, Slave."

Not that I would be inclined to get into trouble, but Mistress subscribes to that old Reagan line, "trust but verify."

Though the day she reminded me of my status with occassional, queries by text or phone.

"How's that cage, Slave?", or "love my caged slave."

Of course, these are little reminders that typically send a little jolt down below.  Most hours of the day I'm not all that conscious of that little device (other than on trips to the men's room).

Around 5 pm Mistress reported that she was off to see J for the evening.

I was soon headed to a political event where all the usual suspects were in attendance. Many asked where Molly was.... I was tempted to shock with a comment like "she had a date tonight", but mumbled instead that there was another "event" she needed to attend.

And of course, it was frustratingly stimulating to consider what exactly she and J were up to over at his "love shack".

I was home by around 8 pm, and had a few chores to attend to before settling down with the news and my New York Times.  Slave has no problem being home alone from time to time. And the fun part, of course, is when Mistress comes home to me.

It was around 11 pm.  Mistress had that "well fucked" look.  Gave me a kiss in the hallway. By then I was in my "sleeping attire": T shirt and nothing else. Other than the cage, of course.

"Slave, let me wash my face, get ready for bed, then I'll unlock this....." she gave it a little squeeze.

Of course it took her another 15 minutes or so to accomplish that..... then picked up the key and released me.

I guess that was the other highlight of my day.


I could tell she was not up to another round of sex with her Slave.... it had been a busy night for her.

So we snuggled close, she gave me a few highlights of her evening, and we drifted off.

"Wake me for sex at 7, Slave...."

"You can bet I will, Mistress."

Long Day Ahead

Unlike som of our blog-o-sphere friends, like Tammy over at All MIne and  Harry  at "What the Fuck Does Harry Have to Say Today?",  this relatively pampered Slave has not been spending too much time in his cock cage these last few weeks. We've been able to drive together most days, and Mistress usually gives me a pass on days when I'm acting as a "field slave" (outdoor work at our rental house), or have to risk venues with metal detectors.

But today..... well, we are driving separately. After work, Slave will be attending a rather tedious political fund raising event - the usual suspects trying to get their moneys worth from the rationed drinks and paltry munchies spread while a rogues gallery of local candidates preen during their brief introductions.

Mistress usually goes to such affairs with me, but it was a busy week for her and J, so this is the one night they were able to arrange a little get together over at his "love shack".

After our  bike ride last night,  I fulfilled my obligations under our contract.

"Mistress, would you like me to wear the cage tomorrow?"

"Excellent idea, Slave....  I don't want to worry about you off at that political gathering .... I know the temptations that can arise."

Well I suppose its true that Mistress and I met at a similar event way back in 1987.  But these days the crowds are bereft of temptation.  I mentioned this to Mistress but she was not moved.

"Better safe than sorry, Slave."

"Of course, Mistress."

So while Mistress will be off with her lover tonight, experiencing their unique brand of mischief, Slave will be safely locked away.  In a way its reassuring that she wants her cock under lock and key, to be popped loose and available whenever she returns this evening.

And in the meantime, with the hard steel ring already seated in place around my cock and balls, she will get an extra bonus in just a few minutes..... one of those extra firm and resilient treats that it always assures.

Win Win, for her, I suppose.

Oops.

Isn't it handy to have a sleek little I-phone around to send little sexy messages to your Mistress or slave during the otherwise tedious work day?

We do it all the time. And I know Mistress exchanges little messages with her lover J too. It's a nice little tool to keep the "home fires burning".

Unless you happen to send one of those messages to the wrong person.

Those of you with these little tools are probably familiar with the "group text" function. type in two names and you can send a text to two... or even more people.

So the other day, when we were communicating to our daughter over in Europe about her plans for college in the fall, there was one of those three way loops set up between daughter, father and mother.

But it can get a little confusing. On the screen it may just show who the last message was from. and when you hit reply, its quite possible to forget there is a 3rd person that will be part of your text conversation.

Yesterday Mistress gave me a panicky call: "I can't believe I copied our daughter on that message, Slave...."

Huh?  I don;t have the little chime activated on my phone, so sometimes I am a little behind on my texting.

So I picked it up, pressing the little text icon.

Sure enough, there was Mistress's message to me:

"Hot sex this am Slave."

Well, in fact it was very hot. Mistress and I both woke a little early. She didn't have to jump on her bike just yet. Carnality ensued.

But now I saw the problem.

Our daughter had gotten the message.

When Mistress realized what she had done she sent a little sheepish message back ..... sorry sweetie. forgot you were on this".

There was no response at all from our no doubt eye rolling, puking daughter.

Let's hope she survives the embarrassment, and just think the 'slave" part was inscrutable (if icky) parental banter, rather than some disclosure about the nature of our relationship here at the UCTMW World HQ.

Meanwhile, our other daughter, the cute Co-Ed took a little more time than expected getting back from College last night.  The weather here had gone crazy. Our car had to ford a veritable river on the interstate on the way home. And she delayed her departure until the sirens stopped wailing.

While we got home a little later than normal, we still had a little time before the empty nest was put to rest.

"Why don't you put in your device, Slave",  Mistress instructed.  She knew I was a little cranky after our typical 30 minute commute home had stretched to nearly 2 hours.  Sure enough, the aneros combined with the addictive aroma of Mistress's juices as I buried my mouth and lips in her clean shaven folds, more than did the trick.

She moaned her way to a little starter cum, then used her well manicured fingers to drive her cock to the state of desperation that amuses her.  I had to beg more than a few times before she relented and allowed me to fuck her.

So at least we ended the college year in style here in River City.... just in time to help our daughter unpack the car.

Leading to the age old question:  why the f**k do they need all that stuff in their dorm rooms and how does it ever fit?