Free Range Slave

Slave made it out to our SW hideaway after a long travel day. It's nice to be where the air is so much fresher and cooler, and away from my office for a while, though it's odd to be here without Mistress.  The patio needed to be weed whacked upon my arrival. And while it is now more pristine, it won't be the same without my Mistress there requiring me to apply ample sun screen.

And of course, there's no one here for our other important daily rituals.  "Milkings" are getting a little old, truth be told. It's much more fun when I have to ask Mistress permission before being allowed to cum. And if I've earned it by giving her 2 or 3 first.

I did hear briefly from her yesterday, right about 5 pm mountain time that tell tale chirp from my I phone notified me that she was on line.

Unfortunately, the viber voice signal was unreliable, so re reverted to text messaging. She was on the island where Paul Gauguin painted all those bare breasted island babes.  No doubt Mistress is tempted to take her bikini top off too, but she's got the Dowager Domme and our cute graduate keeping an eye on her.

She mentioned that in addition to the French guy, David, (about my age) there are two other prospects flirting with her:

"Guy from UK who is traveling all over the South Pacific solo. My age."

Then there is a 40 ish Hawaiian who seems to have caught Mistress's attention.

"He's on the faculty at the University of Hawaii. An anthropologist. He's doing the lectures on natice culture.  He's very hot, slave."

"You seem to have an abundance of choices, Mistress."

"Yes, slave. The flirtations continue. Maybe it's my age. But they all just keep following me around...."

Well maybe it's her age.  But I suspect it's more her inherent potency. Plus, bunking with her Mom, she's gone without a good cum for a whole week now.  The pent up demand probably has her oozing pheremones.

I almost feel sorry for those guys on the boat with her.

As for me, my protocol is the wear the cage when I venture out at night. Although I don't think there is much risk of me being taken down my some predatory Mistress here in our little town on the high desert.   Last night I went to a local sports bar to catch the Cavs v. Warriors game. The only lady who chatted me up was covered in tatoos and was convinced I was some guy named Rick who had been a dick to her the day before. Fortunately I convinced her she had me confused with some other dick, or I would have been wearing her Mojito.

I guess it's time for me to do a photo shoot for Mistress, and then get back to the weed whacking.

Dommes at Sea

Mistress somehow got a wifi signal around 1:30 pm my time yesterday, briefly lighting up my I-phone with an email and a few text messages which amply fueled my cuckold predelictations, So here is a little verbatim which like minded readers might enjoy:

"Miss you slave, and dying to tell you stories.... many of which will wait till I return. Glad to know that you are horny for me. Daniel (the French dude) keeps flirting. Interesting guy... can't decide if I am interested. We will see. 

Lots of older Australians here. All in good shape.... but old. One tried to pick me up at dinner last night. His wife died 18 months ago. Also, I think his Dad was a Nazi... he was born in Germany. Long story for later...."

We were also able to trade a few texts about some household matters and our daughter's travels, But also some with a little spice:

Please follow orders, slave!

Have been. I sent you another cock shot.

Great. Can't open snaps right now. Already looking forward to reunion sex.

Me too sounds like you are getting lots of flirts.

I am. It's funny. Think about it with your dick in your hand and remember re: the cage. 

so is the French guy still flirting, mistress? I mentioned it on the blog today.

He is. It is endless. Wish I could see the blog.

Maybe he's good with his tongue. It could tide you over.

It might have to.....

That's about when Mistress's signal died.... or maybe she got focused on one of those on board suitors.

In the meantime, Slave has been busy working. Took a client to dinner last night, watching the gritty performance of LeBron and the Backbenchers in the NBA finals, and preparing for my solo SW sojourn tomorrow morning. It's almost been hard to get that  daily milking in.

Almost!

(BTW. do you like that flashback photo?.....you can (un-barely) tell it comes from Mistress's pre-clean shaven folds day).



 

On Board Hijinks?

Here at the UCTMW World HQ I successfully delivered our youngest to the airport yesterday. She's headed off for an "internship" on the Continent. Not a bad deal. My summers as a college student were so much more banal. But at least she's cultivating a refined taste for exotic beers! There has to be a future in that!

I've had only limited contact from Mistress. The Dowager Domme booked their party onto some sort of rustic yet plush boat ride through a chain of South Pacific Islands. They are at sea for a day or two at the time, then disembarking for outings on remote shores in the land where  Marlon Brando found shelter in his declining years.

On Sunday afternoon I got an unexpected email and text message asking if I had been "following the rules".  She said they were on a tiny island where someone living in a small home had a "hot spot" and gave them permission to glom on for a few minutes.

I assured her that I was in full compliance with her  protocol - daily milking plus a cock shot. Though her signal was not strong enough to check her snap chat feed for today's "viewing".

She did have an update on her fellow travelers-

"There is this man, about your age,  from the French Alps. He's here without his wife.  He's been chatting me up at every opportunity.... today I got a small cut on the coral and he was very helpful."

Slave quickly locked onto this image of Mistress sitting on the beach, while this handsome Frenchman (looking like the male lead in South Pacific, maybe?) gently tends to her lush tootsies. 

That could provide fodder for an upcoming "milking" couldn't it?

Of course the logistics could be challenging for this to move beyond some innocent flirtation. Mistress is rooming with her Mother. And our daughter is also on Board. It's a relatively small boat. But I suspect a midnight rendezvous on the poop deck made be manageable.

Slave is anxiously looking forward to updates.

In the meantime, hope you enjoy this flashback photo of Mistress from her "white album" phase.

On Campus Kink

Things are pretty lonely here at the UCTMW World HQ with Mistress on her long journey. Slave keeps waking up, reaching unconsciously for her delicious body, and coming up with one of those too many pillows she has used to cover our bed. (It's a babe thing?)

Pathetic, I know.

I've followed her protocol.

A daily "milking" to keep me "out of trouble". And a cock shot sent via snapchat to keep down on all those cock pics replicating themselves on our Apple photo apps.  We still have images of the WC's special occasion cock popping up from time to time!

When she called yesterday, Mistress seemed pleased with waking up to an image of my "angry" cock longing for the real thing.

"It made me horny, Slave."

I forgot to ask if any of the guys she has encountered have been flirting.  Contemplating Mistress finding a quiet spot below deck from some late night mischief is something to fuel those morning milkings, I suppose.

In her absence I've decided to sort through and post some flash back photos to stimulate all of our imaginations. This is a pic from one of our "Switch Sundays". 

But today's blog focuses on  the recent controversy at Northwestern University,  fueled by an article by NW Prof Laura Kipnis, " Sexual Paranoia Strikes Academe, in which the lady professor takes on the notion that every relationship between a faculty member and a female student necessarily amounts to ab abuse of power, or even rape. 

When I was in college, hooking up with professors was more or less part of the curriculum. Admittedly, I went to an art school, and mine was the lucky generation that came of age in that too-brief interregnum after the sexual revolution and before AIDS turned sex into a crime scene replete with perpetrators and victims—back when sex, even when not so great or when people got their feelings hurt, fell under the category of life experience. It’s not that I didn’t make my share of mistakes, or act stupidly and inchoately, but it was embarrassing, not traumatizing.

As Jane Gallop recalls in Feminist Accused of Sexual Harassment (1997), her own generational cri de coeur, sleeping with professors made her feel cocky, not taken advantage of. She admits to seducing more than one of them as a grad student—she wanted to see them naked, she says, as like other men. Lots of smart, ambitious women were doing the same thing, according to her, because it was a way to experience your own power.

But somehow power seemed a lot less powerful back then. The gulf between students and faculty wasn’t a shark-filled moat; a misstep wasn’t fatal. We partied together, drank and got high together, slept together. The teachers may have been older and more accomplished, but you didn’t feel they could take advantage of you because of it. How would they?

Obviously, times have changed. Professor Kipnis even found herself in her own Title IX Inquisition when female anti-harassment student activists  accused her of "retaliating" against them simply by publishing an article that disagreed with their point of view.

This got Mistress and Slave talking the other night about a story she had shared a long time ago.

"Didn't you have sex with one of your profs in college, Mistress."

"I did Slave...."

We reviewed the details. She was about 19 or 20. It was Sophomore year on her small liberal arts college in the heartland. He was about 33 or so - the same age difference between me and Mistress - married with kids at home.

Their fling was sparked - or accommodated - by late nights in the offices of the student newspaper that Mistress edited. 

"I suppose it began with him looking over my shoulder at one of those old lay-out screens. Rubbing my shoulders...."

Hmmm..... not unlike the scenario of the young Mistress and the older political activist in the campaign headquarters of that short Greek guy running for President in 1988.

"So where did you do it with him, Mistress...."

"Ohh..... the newspaper office. Or his faculty office. It was a small town, and a small campus.  We had to be very careful."

"So did you feel exploited, Mistress?"

She snickered. 

"No Slave.... it was hot. But a little strange when I had classes with him, and I had a few."

"Did you get good grades?"

"I suppose I did.  But no better than the grades I got in other classes."

Sounds Like Mistress would be on the same page as Professor Kipnis. Maybe I'd feel different about my own daughters doing it with their professors, but I suppose Mistress's Mom would not have been amused had she known the messy details. But then who wants to know all the details about our kids personal lives once they pass 18?

As for Slave, I can't say I would have complained if a lady prof had hit on me. Sadly, the only "flirty" behavior I can recall from my academic career involved a Math teaching nun in high school. But it was all smiles and solicitous small talk.  Sister Roberta never offered to show me what was hidden beneath that black habit.