Slave spent another day in the cage yesterday. And Suzanne over at All Mine will smugly enjoy the fact that Mistress has given me notice that it will be a permanent condition for the foreseeable future, with the possible exception of weekend days when I'm staying at home in her company. It's "Boot Camp" here at the UCTMW World HQ, with Slave's equipment in the steel "boot",
Guess I need to toughen up the skin down there in anticipation, because that steel ring can get a little pinchy. Any suggestions, fellow cock caged cuckolds?
So after some hearty wake-up sex here yesterday morning, the cage was locked on, and Mistress walked off with the key. Literally. She tucked it in her wallet.We were driving seperately to work, and she had a meeting to attend before heading home. She wasn't going to let me weedle her into unlocking myself when I got home.
"I should be home around 8 or so Slave..... you'll just have to wait until then to see if I'm disposed to let you loose for the night."
I had my own after work mission: to the Apple store to see if I could resuscitate my 4 year old, souped up limited edition black laptop. I had upgraded the memory, so that despite the age it had all the current apps and operating system that a new model would have. It was my "baby", sort of like Joe Biden's mythic Trans Am, that he washes in the West Wing driveway.
But somewhere between Denver and River City it had all gone sour. Making strange beeping sounds, and failing to reboot, rather than going from 0 to 60 in 30 seconds.
The place is in temporary quarters and was packed when I arrived, all the noise from browsers and the machines they were playing with creating a cacophony that made me wish for the types of head gear suitable to operating a weed eater.
As I waited for my "genius" to do his tricks, I noticed a guy with white gloves and a sleazy smirk, perched on a stool operating a large table top computer. The screen was so large it wasn't hard to figure out what he was doing: trolling an "interracial" internet match-making site, and engaging in what was certainly cheesy chat with some woman half-a-world away. Amazingly, the creeper was still there an hour later when I staggered out, having plunked down the cash for a new lap-top after my "collectors item" was declared DOA.
We may need a memorial service, since it's the device I used to post virtually all of more than 1000 t blog posts over the last three years here at UCTMW.
Back at home, Slave re-jiggered his new computer, and even discovered the joys of back-up. So now I have a brand new computer that has the odd familiarity of what my old "desktop" looked like.
Beret off to Francois (remember him?) for setting up our "time machine" so it actually works!
What happened to Mistress you might ask?
Well she called me at around 7:45 and announced she was heading over to J's, as was her perogative.
"I'm sort of in his neighborhood, Slave and it's been a couple of weeks."
"No problem, Mistress."
Actually, I thought it was a good development. It meant that Mistress was feeling secure enough to leave Slave to his own devices, and let off a little of her "steam" about my email transgression with her combined FWB, fuck buddy and confidant.
A little sympathy and sex on the side therapy would be good for her.
As I went through the "back up" transfer, made myself some dinner, and settled in for some "forward" leaning MSNBC rants I got some occasional updates from her via text message.
"Going out for some dinner, Slave....."
Then later.
"Back now, will visit a while and come home...."
And she was home shortly after 11 pm. She looked "refreshed" if a little spent, with that pleased after a good fucking look on her face.
"Tired of being locked up, Slave?"
"Let's say I'm looking forward to my release, Mistress...."
"Well there's no sex on your agenda tonight Slave.... I've had more than enough for one night....I suppose I could just make you sleep in it....."
"But that would be cruel...."
"It's what you deserve...."
We went through this little dance for a while, as Mistress shed her clothes and did her get ready for bed rituals. But ultimately she showed mercy and removed the key from her wallet to release me.
As she talked a little about her evening with J -- how horny he was for her after two weeks away -- I must say that my cock twitched a bit in its new found freedom.
But I was not going to press my luck.....
This morning is another matter entirely.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Ouch!
Apologies, dear readers! (I know, according to Mitt Romney, one should never apologize, but I guess I'm destined to be among the 47% in a few years!) A combination of my apparently dead laptop and some readjustment to life back in River city has had us dark here since late Monday night.... and there have been some startling developments that Mistress has required me to report on to all of you.
"I need some sympathy, Slave...."
And so she shall have it, though maybe Slave deserves some sympathy too?
We left you back in the Denver airport, whining about the sudden disappearance of our Western Correspondence just when we could have used a little logistical support in the Mile High City. I had posted a blog. My laptop battery was dying. I tucked it away and began reviewing accumulated emails on my O-phone, Mistress sitting next to me.
And what pops up -- for both of us to see-- two emails in my in box from a woman from our past who Mistress has instructed me to have no further contact with. Yes, that woman.
The emails were innocent enough (in my opinion), concerning some election day volunteer work, in response to some mass emails I had authored seeking volunteers. She was among several hundred on the distribution list. But Mistress was suspect, and remains so. Any communications had been forbidden, and this crossed that line.
I showed her the emails, before deleting them. She did not like their "way too familiar" tone. And though I've cut off contact with her for going on 4 years now, I'm not convinced that Mistress is convinced, if you get my drift.
This sent Mistress into a bit of an insecurity tailspin, and I am hoping that eventually my reassurance concerning my devotion to her will ultimately make her feel more secure.
In the meantime, this formerly pampered house slave has had his leash tightened.
Tuesday night, I was told that from now on and until further notice I will be wearing my cage everyday... (but maybe not on weekends?)
After that, she told me to insert my aneros, then applied that particularly nasty long shoe horn to my ass, which had Slave bouncing off the bed in pain, and her telling me to stop squirming and stay "in position".
Ouch!
Fortunately, she did let me fuck her afterwards. But only after she took the picture below and instructed me to post it and explain why I had been punished.
Yesterday, Mistress stopped by for worship in the morning at my office, and then at the end of the day. I hope that feeling my devoted tongue at work may help her bounce back from this setback.
But when we got home, it was back to business. First there was some reference to the possibility of making me sleep in the cage, Lucky for me she relented, after considerable groveling by me to the tune of how I would much rather have sex with her than suffer the consequence of middle of the night erections banging up against that steel cage.
But before there was any love making in the UCTMW executive suite, she got out the shoe horn one more time to redden my bony old ass all over again.
Double ouch!
Hopefully Mistress will realize sooner rather than later that her Slave is hopelessly in love with her and would do nothing to mess with the amazingly wonderful life we share.
"I need some sympathy, Slave...."
And so she shall have it, though maybe Slave deserves some sympathy too?
We left you back in the Denver airport, whining about the sudden disappearance of our Western Correspondence just when we could have used a little logistical support in the Mile High City. I had posted a blog. My laptop battery was dying. I tucked it away and began reviewing accumulated emails on my O-phone, Mistress sitting next to me.
And what pops up -- for both of us to see-- two emails in my in box from a woman from our past who Mistress has instructed me to have no further contact with. Yes, that woman.
The emails were innocent enough (in my opinion), concerning some election day volunteer work, in response to some mass emails I had authored seeking volunteers. She was among several hundred on the distribution list. But Mistress was suspect, and remains so. Any communications had been forbidden, and this crossed that line.
I showed her the emails, before deleting them. She did not like their "way too familiar" tone. And though I've cut off contact with her for going on 4 years now, I'm not convinced that Mistress is convinced, if you get my drift.
This sent Mistress into a bit of an insecurity tailspin, and I am hoping that eventually my reassurance concerning my devotion to her will ultimately make her feel more secure.
In the meantime, this formerly pampered house slave has had his leash tightened.
Tuesday night, I was told that from now on and until further notice I will be wearing my cage everyday... (but maybe not on weekends?)
After that, she told me to insert my aneros, then applied that particularly nasty long shoe horn to my ass, which had Slave bouncing off the bed in pain, and her telling me to stop squirming and stay "in position".
Ouch!
Fortunately, she did let me fuck her afterwards. But only after she took the picture below and instructed me to post it and explain why I had been punished.
Yesterday, Mistress stopped by for worship in the morning at my office, and then at the end of the day. I hope that feeling my devoted tongue at work may help her bounce back from this setback.
But when we got home, it was back to business. First there was some reference to the possibility of making me sleep in the cage, Lucky for me she relented, after considerable groveling by me to the tune of how I would much rather have sex with her than suffer the consequence of middle of the night erections banging up against that steel cage.
But before there was any love making in the UCTMW executive suite, she got out the shoe horn one more time to redden my bony old ass all over again.
Double ouch!
Hopefully Mistress will realize sooner rather than later that her Slave is hopelessly in love with her and would do nothing to mess with the amazingly wonderful life we share.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Wherefore Art Though WC?
Mistress and Slave were thrown a curve ball today.... we arrived at the Colorado Springs airport to learn that our flight to DFW was canceled. They had generously rebooked us on a flight that would leave in the morning Tuesday.
Nice.
But Slave went to work, despite some mendacity at American Airlines phone booking service, and found us an alternative flight out of Denver at 7 pm. It would get us to River City only about 15 minutes after our original scheduled arrival.
And even better, it gave us enough time to make a snap inspection of the UCTMW Mountain Zone HQ.
But when we reached out to our "head" of that office, he fell off the map. He knew we were in the area. Mistress even spoke with him on the way to Colorado Springs. But despite our attempts to contact him and ask him to ferry us to Denver in the high priced company vehicle he's been tooling around in all these years.... Nada. He disappeared into the internet ether.
Or did he? Could he have been surreptitiously checking his management team out all along as we waited for our flight? Check out this photo I took of a mysterious guy who seemed to be tailing us this afternoon, in a Bronco Jersey....
Nice.
But Slave went to work, despite some mendacity at American Airlines phone booking service, and found us an alternative flight out of Denver at 7 pm. It would get us to River City only about 15 minutes after our original scheduled arrival.
And even better, it gave us enough time to make a snap inspection of the UCTMW Mountain Zone HQ.
But when we reached out to our "head" of that office, he fell off the map. He knew we were in the area. Mistress even spoke with him on the way to Colorado Springs. But despite our attempts to contact him and ask him to ferry us to Denver in the high priced company vehicle he's been tooling around in all these years.... Nada. He disappeared into the internet ether.
Or did he? Could he have been surreptitiously checking his management team out all along as we waited for our flight? Check out this photo I took of a mysterious guy who seemed to be tailing us this afternoon, in a Bronco Jersey....
Sad Sunset For Our Summer
Mistress is as brown as a berry (are there really brown berries?) after all that naked sunbathing this week. She gave the bears quite a show. In fact, yesterday morning woke to her perusing the internet for those "scandalous" photos of Kate Middleton caught in the south of France with her little princess boobies showing.
Of course, it's hardly a scandal for a upper crust English 20 something to be seen sunbathing topless in the south of France. Mistress and Molly took a trip there some years ago and learned that it is quite customary for proper English chicks, even moms with their children, to take the waters topless along the Mediterranean beaches, let alone when in the seeming privacy of their Provence villa. After seeing a such a vast collection of pasty Anglo-Saxon boobs of various dimensions, one began to pine for the days of more expansive bathing costumes.
Nor should Kate have been surprised that the paparazzi was lurking about, hoping to catch her with her tops down. Isn't that their job? Maybe one way to preserve their privacy would be to schedule a boob flashing photo op for all comers at the start of the holiday, in hopes that the "photo journalists" would have their fill, then move on to other matters, like the cat fight between President Hollande's ex and his current squeeze.
With the photos of Kate's royal breasts in mind, it was an odd coincidence then that as we hiked into the Rio Grande gorge yesterday around noontime for a final day at the "beach", we caught sight from the winding trail two nude bathers wallowing in the natural hot springs at the side of the river.
I did a bit of a double take.
'Is she giving him a blow-job, Mistress?"
We both squinted into the light reflecting off the river.
"Not sure, Slave...."
They did seem intertwined, her head dipping towards his lap.... but at that distance, hard to tell. Taking on the role of intrusive paparazzi, Slave whipped out his I-phone, just as she came up for air, and snapped the following shot.
But for the beard, I might have been able to pass this off to the tabloids as Prince Harry goes randy again.
Bummer.
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