Re-Balancing the Sex Scales

Sure, we had an unscheduled abstinence Wednesday this week.

But what goes around comes around.

It turns out that Friday was an embarrassment of sex riches for Mistress. And her slave can't complain either.

I was forced to drive to work Friday because of an interview I had to do at a local TV station. Hard to arrive there all sweaty and in my riding shorts. Without any excuses, Mistress made sure I was under lock and key for the day. But before she closed the lock there was some lovely wake up sex, with her work-a-day cock in a particularly avid state because of the hard steel ring that embraced her /my cock and balls.

(Side note: I wonder what my TV audience would think if they knew the guy on their flat screen trying to amuse and persuade them was wearing a steel contraption in his pants.  And are the guys behind the anchor desk, or maybe on the Presidential debate stage under comparable restraint? If so, which ones?)

Then there was a drop by at her Slave's office for some pre-lunch worship.  Mistress had a lunch engagement downtown, and was generous enough to leave enough time before lunch for me to sink to my knees on my office floor to get a little appetizer before my own lunch.  It's still pretty warm here in River City, so Mistress was still in bare legs mode, making it easy for her to simply slide out of her black panties, spread her legs, and let her slave do what he does best.

Then, at the end of the day, there was some bonus activity in the UCTMW Executive Suite.  Fortunately, our lovely "college grad looking to start the next phase of her life" had evening plans. She was leaving as I was pulling into the driveway.

Mistress had a determined glint in her eye when I climbed the stairs and found her on my bed.

"We're all alone, slave..... please get out my supplies...."

Of course, she was referring to her strap-on and lube. She had mentioned the possibility of an ass fucking during our mid-day worship. Apparently it was not just idle conversation.

Slave knows when to follow orders, and I quickly retrieved her chosen tools.

But something was still missing.

"Have you found the riding crop yet, slave?"

Oops.

I had forgotten to look since last Friday.

"Then I guess we just have to go back to that hard wooden back scratcher slave....."

Ouch.  I hate that thing. remember my splotchy ass from last week?

Mistress seemed torn though.

"I'm not sure you really deserve it this week slave.  You've been much better at paying me attention, probably because of the punishment you got last Friday. But if I don't keep it up....then maybe you revert to bad behavior?"

It's a classic disciplinarian dilemma, isn't it? Spare the rod....blah, blah, blah.

Mistress found the prudent middle path.

"Get in position, slave.....I'm only going to give you three strokes this week to encourage you to keep up the good work...."

Though that damn thing sure stings, 3 strokes was more than tolerable.

Then we went onto the main course, with Mistress mounting me from behind, and seemingly enjoying her thrusts into my accepting orifice, culminating in a rather dramatic cum.

Very cathartic for both of us.

Afterwards we snuggled a bit, then Mistress allowed me to take my reward in a more traditional way.

As you might expect, we certainly slept well last night!

Say It Ain't So.

Slave definitely fucked up yesterday.

I had an early morning meeting. Mistress had suggested I wake her no earlier than 7 am for our wake-up sex rituals.  But when I returned to the UCTMW executive suite (I am an early riser) she was still dead to the world. It was clear she was not inclined to be roused (and aroused) so early.

So we passed on morning sex, giving our selves rain checks for the evening.

But.... we met downtown around 5:30 pm for a political event, she accompanied me to another speaking engagement, then back downtown. After a couple of drinks and dinner at a funky local bistro we finally arrived home in separate cars around 10 pm..... and crashed.

I even forgot to offer the services of my devoted lips and tongue.

So there has been no cumming, even for Mistress for a whole 24 hours. (Unless she resorted to self-abuse yesterday without cluing me in.) It was an accidental, unscheduled abstinence day.

I clearly dropped the ball.

Our reputation is on the line.

If word gets out on this I may have my sex-blogger card revoked.

Fortunately, this is a new day.

Time to get to work.

The Return of Woody

After some bracing wake-up sex, this Ol' Slave spent the day in his cage yesterday, going about my daily duties, then returning home to be sprung loose for a pre-dinner bike ride with Mistress.

As it turns out, while slave was under lock and key, Mistress was having a lunch date with a suitor who popped back up on her radar screen after a couple of years.

You may remember Woody. He was the guy who for a while dated Mistress's former boss, then asked her out to lunch. She was impressed with the guy's mental chops, education, and ability to carry on an adult conversation.  But there was no .... chemistry.  Somehow she mentioned that her husband gives her "permission" to carry on outside the marital bed. Of course this egged him on to no end, ending in his effort to kiss her in a shopping mall parking lot after lunch one day.

Mistress made her lack of interest clear, and that seemed to be that.

But then, yesterday, Mistress mentioned he had been back in touch. And she had agreed to another lunch date.

"Who knows slave.... he's smart, and maybe there can at least be a business connection...."

After their lunch, and then later on our bike ride, Mistress filled me in on how things went.

"It was nice slave... he is interesting... smart... we had a nice conversation about politics and all the rest."

She reminded me of his qualifications.... a little younger than me, advanced degrees, published author, single and available, and very attracted to Mistress.

"He kept saying how smart and attractive and fun to be with I am, slave...."

Mistress does like a little flattery.  Who doesn't.

"But...."

"The problem is the same, slave.... no chemistry... in fact negative chemistry.... he's too short....too nebbishy...."

"Still too much  like Woody Allen?"

"Exactly Slave.... I almost feel sorry for him...."

"Hmmm.... a candidate for a sympathy fuck?"

Mistress gave me a look that suggested if I pressed on that she might get that wooden back scratcher out, so I let that hang.

Poor Woody.  If he made his own movies he could always cast himself opposite some hot younger babe -- a teenaged Mariel Hemingway or young Diane Keaton -- but if your just a brainy science writer like this Woody, what you gonna do?

So Mistress left poor Woody in the dust one more time.

"He tried to give me one of those kisses again, on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant."

"How did you handle that?"

"Just turned my face so he got my cheek, slave."

Poor Woody.

Tights Season Has an Inauspicious Start

Mistress and slave had a pretty laid back weekend here in River City. There was that raucous night of domestic discipline and ass fucking Friday night. More wake-up sex on Saturday, and then even more sex here Saturday afternoon.

Cold and gloom had descended on our town, with the thermometer stuck in the 40's. It meant there was no excuse but to huddle in bed and let nature take its course.

Sunday was a little busier. After deploying Mistress's favorite power tool as a prelude to our morning sex, Slave spent the afternoon watching the now 4-0 Pussycats send the Chiefs back to the reservation.  (I do miss our old blogger compadre Suzanne when football season kicks in, since Mistress is hardly a sports fan!) Mistress spent some time with her Mother and sister who was in town this weekend.

Back at home at around 5:30, we were back in bed, and Mistress enjoyed a little more worship before we paged through the Times.

Mistress pointed out this article on the history of stockings and pantyhose in yesterday's magazine: The Politics of Pantyhose.  The gist is that the workplace expectation that women wear hose to cover their lovely stems is some hideous form of male repression. The trend is to leave them in the drawer, gathering lint. On the other hand, bare legs, even in the cold of winter are a "power move" by those women who have the legs (like Mistress) which can pull that off. If not, I guess you go with Hillary Clinton-esque popsicle colored pants suits?

In any event, this leaves a pampered if pathetic slave, with a tights fetish that goes back to middle school,  drooling over memories when all those "oppressed" women would show up on the street in their tights and hose once summer turned to fall. A gawker's delight! It's clear those times have passed.

I guess I am just stuck with football!

Another thing I am stuck with - based on popular demand apparently - is my cock cage.  My body is a little stiff from a lot of bike riding yesterday (to and from the game), so I'll be driving to work. And under Mistress's newly enforced rules, it's a cage day. I've already got that solid steel ring in place.

Are you happy, rabble?