Cage Day

Mistress and slave had a low key weekend after our Friday night "(ass)fuck-fest".  Despite the presence of our net re-infesting daughter (who got a job this week! hooray!), Slave deployed Mistress's favorite power tool Sunday morning to help deliver a little extra fun beneath the sheets.

And of course there was that stirring comeback by the local Pussycats Sunday afternoon against the cocky team from Starbucks' town.

Monday, on the other hand was a bit of a sexual desert here in River City.  Mistress had one of those way-too-early meetings which foreclosed any am nookie. And by the time we got home from a political event downtown last night, we were too tuckered for anything more than some husbandly worship before it was lights out.

But Mistress gave some instructions before she drifted off.

"Slave, no excuse for you not to wear that cage tomorrow...."

"Yes, Mistress....."

"By the way, I have a lunch engagement tomorrow downtown..... I'll be stopping by your office beforehand....."

So we expect some wake up sex here this morning, a drop by for some late morning worship, and a long day in the cage for slave.


Hopefully that will appease all our readers in the "more chastity time for that pampered Mick" camp.

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.