Let It Snow

Mistress and slave have been buried in what seems like about 18 inches of new snow over the last two days here in the high desert.

Of course, there are some benefits in being snowed in.  While we had some work to do on Thursday morning, we worked in a mid-morning "sex break" (as previously reported) and also a post-nap late afternoon two-fer, that involved Mistress doing some rather enthusiastic cock riding to top off her orgasm count for the day. (But who's counting).

Yesterday we could not resist the impulse to drive up to our local ski mountain to enjoy a powder day.  But what was the rush?  we lolled in bed a little longer than usual for some pre-ski delight, before struggling to get our car out of the driveway. Slave is not into shoveling at 7000 ft., but sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

We look forward to the first sun in a few days here today, and some more morning sex before we head back up the mountain.

But before signing off, I wanted to respond to some speculation about the potential plot twist on Downton Abbey: the notion that Lady Mary might save the families struggling estate by selling her services as a Domme to the aristocracy.

Terri over at A Married Sissy asked what an antique strap on might look like. And despite exhaustive research., I must say I came up short.  Certainly the Brit twits of the Victorian era were no strangers to pegging. But the notion of synthetic or plastic faux cocks for rear entry was out fo the question in those days. The best I could come up with were some rather exotic  "rectal dilators" that the cracker jack set and artifact designers for DA could replicate or dust off for Lady Mary's use:

Certainly these could be fitted with an appropriately authentic leather harness for Lady Mary to put to good use.  And then there is the old stand-by  "double header" which could also be adapted to punch up this story line. 

It would certainly be better than implicating Bates in yet another murder of yet another good for nothing.

But Lady Mary probably doesn't need a whole lot of "kit" to play the role of a Domme, does she?  She already has that superior attitude that can put any male, regardless of title or the size of his trust fund, in his place. This photo is a good example:

Can't you imagine what's going on just below where this photo is cropped. No doubt some less than adequately endowed suitor with a fancy title is doing his best to please her with an avid if unskilled tongue. And she's totally unimpressed with his skills. Hopefully by the final episode she can whip a few of those twits into shape!

Terri, I know you and I could do better considering our experience and training! But we could never nail those posh accents.

Shelter From the Storm

It's probably good that Mistress and slave planned a ski break for today, after 7 consecutive days of hitting the slopes. Slave's aging legs were feeling the mileage. We had some pent up work demands, including some long conference calls. Plus, last night the "big dump" occurred, burying our little hideaway in about 10 inches of fresh fluffy.

It was our first snow storm of the season, and to show the contrast, here are some photos. The first shows Mistress last summer, absorbing some rays on our patio.  (You can also see my rather sketchy effort to stucco the wall, but rest assured it looks better now).  I might add that by the time we returned to River City, those tan lines were hard to discern.

The second photo shows our patio this morning, where only a few short months ago, Mistress was lounging in the bright high desert sunshine.

While all that new powder will be fun on the mountain, driving up the canyon to enjoy it would probably be a challenge this morning.

So instead, SLave listened in on a long business call while Mistress worked on her computer in our toasty bed.

We've been talking about whether slave will "work from home" once I retire from my permanent gig.  Mistress already uses a home office for her business. We discovered one advantage of both of us working from home at about 9 am this morning.  We both set aside our work projects for a "sex break".

While I was up to early and on the phone for our typical wake up sex, this could be a nice change of pace.

"It's better than a coffee break, Mistress", I added as we snuggled after the action was concluded.

"It definitely has it's advantages, slave."

Of course, now I need another cup of coffee.

Downton Domme

Sunday night Mistress and I spent the evening at home, fireplace roaring. We whipped up some pasta Alfredo and a salad and then settled down in front of the TV for the launch of the final season of one of Mistress's long time favorite shows: Downton Abby.

It's been a long five years since the Crawley clan began their odyssey across two decades of the decline of the English aristocracy. And Slave has a sorry history of making snarky comments at the "plight" of a family forced to suffer the indignity of being short a footman or two when serving a betwixt courses consomme to  dinner guests like "Shrimpy" and his ill tempered wife. Or warding off the sexual antics of some low level Turkish envoy who found his way into one of their daughter's "chambers".

Mistress gave me strict instructions as we suffered through the introductory countdown to the first new episode: "slave I don't want to hear you making snide comments once the show starts!"

"I guess this is where a good ball gag could come in handy, Mistress."

"Maybe I should have put that on my Christmas list, slave....."

Aspiring to be an obedient slave, I did my best  to stifle my snark. I suppose part of it is my Irish cultural affinities. My namesake here on this blog is no accident. My favorite character on Downton is the  former chauffeur with Irish Republican sympathies who bedded the youngest daughter and, once they were forced to marry, was reluctantly allowed to spend evenings upstairs. Although I think the Butler always counted the silver when said former chauffeur dined with the family.

Once the episode ended, and slave was allowed to express some views about what had transpired, our conversation shifted to how the series might end:

"Do you think they'll have to lay off the staff and  sell off the house and all those ancestral paintings and tea services, Mistress?"

"That seems to be where it's heading, slave."

But then I had a better idea.

"Lady Mary with that riding crop and in those boots was kind of hot, Mistress... Now that she seems to be settling into spinster-hood, maybe she can embrace her inner Domme and open a dungeon in the basement to bring in some extra cash!"

Mistress seemed open minded to the notion. And when you think of it, 'Lady' Mary does have that sort of haughty, no fool tolerance quality that could make for a good Domme. And all those Brit twits suitors who seem to flutter around her could certainly use a good  pegging to get their pathetic little lives back in order and make them productive members of society once their trust funds run out. Maybe those costume signers can design an historically accurate strap-on for  Lady Mary to deploy on some groveling Lord or Duke before the series concludes. Then your local PBS affiliate could  use genuine replicas as premiums for their next fund raising drive.

I wonder if it's too late to get this story idea to the guy who writes all this clap trap? And can I get some royalties. At least enough to invest in a comfortable ball gag for the remaining episodes.

In Her Dreams

Mistress and slave have fallen into a bit of a groove here in the SW, which can make blogging a little challenging.  How many times do our readers want to here about more sex, more skiing, more sunshine, more beautiful sunsets. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I did break out Mistress's reserve hitachi yesterday morning to give Mistress a change-up from her slave's devoted tongue. So that's something.

But there was one thing kind of amusing to break the repetitive cycle.  Mistress mentioned it when she woke up Sunday morning:

"I dreamed I was having sex with Mike (our unproductive Western Correspondent), Slave.  And (our youngest daughter) caught us."

I laughed, but seeing some blogging material, asked for some more details --

"Where was this Mistress?"

"In my old bedroom, at my mother's house...."

Hmmm.  I am wondering if the Dowager Domme got a look at Mike's special occasion cock?  Or if Mike got a look at her kinky shoe collection?

"And what did (our daughter) say about all this?"

"I told her that you knew about it and thought it was OK.  And that Mike was the guy I used to text with a few years back.  She was always curious about that.  I told her that Mike was just a friend of me and her father's.... after that she seemed cool with it."

It's good to know our daughter, now off to Europe for yet another adventure,  is so understanding....

"So what sort of sex were you having with Mike?"

"I can't remember much about that ... just regular sex I guess."

Mike, if you're still paying attention, how was it for you?