Spanking in the name of Jesus?

AS predicted, Mistress and Slave have been slogging through a stressful week following our return from our little beach getaway. Work has been demanding, and we've got the much anticipated wedding of my 2nd daughter come Saturday. More on that later this week.... but all the planning, organizing and angst over colliding families and sensibilities makes me recall why our wedding (the 2nd for both of us) organized as a last minute surprise for a select group of family and friends was much more enjoyable than this type of formal set piece.

The saddest part is that Slave had an unscheduled abstinence day yesterday, because I had to get up way to early to drive one of our Co-Ed's guest from across the pond to the airport.  By the time the day came to an end - following dinner here for my getting married daughter and her fiance, Slave was way to fried for any nookie.

Luckily, I'm anticipating getting lucky in just a few short minutes, before we kick it into high gear for another brutally scheduled day.

I did want to leave you with this piece I stumbled on about a couple in a "domestic discipline" relationship who have somehow connected it to a Christian lifestyle. Spanking for Jesus.

Sounds as if these folks are not too far afield from the discipline that Tammy "enjoys" over at All Mine, or that others in the sex blogosphere write about. But instead of lending an erotic charge to their efforts, somehow they've based their use of the spoon, hair brush or palm on some notion that a good Christian woman needs to submit to her husband, and that the husband is free to use those means necessary to enforce that submission. The blog entry I read makes it clear that for these folks, it's not about sex, foreplay, etc. It's just to show who's the boss.

Yuck.

Why do we have to introduce God and mandatory gender stereotypes into what might otherwise have some erotic fizzle? Plus it  seems to remove  the consensual notion of the whole arrangement, which in my mind turns good sexy fun into bad and cruel abuse.

They have a blog, linked in the article, where they purport to explain their lifestyle. Am I missing something here?

Another Rough Day....

Two a Days. Bike ride. Afternoon in bed when the rain rolls in. Then back to the beach for a sunset al fresco dinner. We won't bore you with the details.

Have a good Father's Day, all. I know one pampered house Slave who will!

Corsets, Whips and Whiskey

Mistress and Slave had one of those decadent days that you try to file away in your memory banks to fall back on when the going gets rough, and the stress levels rise.

First there was some robust wake-up sex here in our little hideaway, after Mistress slept in and Slave wrote the blog and brewed some coffee.

Then a long bike ride in bright sunshine and cool temperatures in a gentle breeze coming off the lake. We pedaled through rolling countryside to a perfect little Midwestern town, oozing Americana, for a breakfast of some eggs, hashbrowns and thick, smoky local bacon to die for. (Well the pig died for it. All we got was a little extra cholesterol to work off on the ride back).

But as we left the charming old main street restaurant, with its red white and blue bunting, all decked out for flag day, I noticed this poster for an event we might want to come back for:

Is kink spreading to the heartland faster than we thought?

Once back from our ride,  our mobile offices adjourned to  the beach, where we kept of the pretext of being "connected" to clients and colleagues whole basking in the early summer sun.  It's amazing what you can accomplish with an I-phone and no shame! Although I do wonder whether that one client could hear the sound of the waves in the background.

The sun was in no mood to set anytime soon, but we wandered back to our room at around 6:30 pm in any event, with a little more sunburn than I had hoped for.

After showering off the sand, we slid back under the sheets for another round of nookie, with Mistress riding her cock to a couple of cums before allowing her Slave to indulge himself. It was nice to get back into the ryhthmn of "two a days."

Yesterday Suzanne wondered whether we had packed the cage. Well, no, actually. Mick is like one of those free range chickens this weekend. Since Mistress can keep close watch on her cock, she has dispensed with it's containment device.

Soon we were off to dinner at a little Armenian joint up the highway, still festooned with the T-shirts and bumper stickers touting the immigration status of its owner. Will Ibrahim ever be freed? Tune in again next year.

Not bad for a Friday, particularly when you can look forward to a Saturday when the "mobile offices" can shutdown.

"I could get used to this, Slave...."

No doubt.

Mistress and Slave Slip Under the Radar

"Let's act like we're having an affair, Slave...."

That's our theme this weekend.

Cloak and dagger.

Surreptitious.

We've decided to slip out of town and remove our cyber-feetprints for a few days.

Well, expect for our kids, and you.... our mystery friends in sex blog land.

On the work front, Mistress has a rather insane boss who, no matter how well she performs, always wants more. A later than usual lunch hour this week produced a "where are you" text message.

"She stalks me on facebook and linked-in, Slave...."

Mistress does not like being tracked down.

For me its the extended family. After months of my nagging, my reluctant sister decided this was the week to deposit my cranky Mother in an "independent living" facility. I made it clear that my schedule for this weekend was set. I spent the morning at her place yesterday assisting the packers, and disposing of trash that should have been tossed years ago, learning that my mother never threw away a twist tie or jar top in 20 years.  Did you know that pantyhose once sold for $1.99. She has unopened packs to prove it.

That plus the upcoming theatrics involving a daughter's wedding next weekend.... well, we needed to escape, without the groans of disapproval and eyerolls that more facebook posts from the happy couple at the beach or in some funky restaurant would generate.

So while my sister is now seeking cyber back pats on facebook by posting about the joys of spending the weekend with my mother in her new digs, Slave has absconded with my Mistress to a secret hideaway, where no one but you, dear readers, realize that we are avoiding all responsibilities and wallowing in libidinous fun.

We slid out of Mistress's parking lot a little after 1:15 pm. I was planning on doing some rearranging, plugging in phones, etc. in front of her office, but no.

"Let's get out of her fast, Slave. I don't want anyone to see that I'm leaving."

"Yes, Mistress."

By 6:30 we were here. heading out on a short but lovely bikeride along the bluffs overlooking the beach.

By 7:30 we were in bed, Slave feasting on those clean shaven folds, and indulging in a long session of fucking Mistress to our hearts' (and other body parts) content.

At dinner, a little roadhouse around the corner from our Inn, I was tempted to take one of those pictures of my fetching Mistress, toasting with her Scotch on the rocks, that would be suitable for facebook.

"No Slave.... remember..... let's just pretend we're having an affair this weekend.... it's our secret."

But at least not from you folks.