I'm Your Puppet

A little Domme/Sub musical accompaniment. The rest of the blog is shutdown, just like our gubmint!

Decontamination

It was a very eventful weekend here in River City.

Friday night, after a busy week, there was some "home from work" sex in the executive suite, followed by a little in home "picnic".

Saturday, after some hot wake-up sex, Slave took his grandkids on an outing, while Mistress did a long bike ride with her former fuck-buddy and still biking pal, Jay.  His son was away for the week, freeing up his schedule, and their plan was for him to join us at home to watch my alma mater play what turned out to be a desultory late afternoon game against the Sooners.

After I dumped off the grandkids, and was doing some grocery shopping, Mistress texted that she was showering over there, with one of those little smiley faces.  This got me wondering about how that would work and whether a shower would turn into something more....

But apparently not.... they both showed up around game time, and Mistress whipped up some guacamole for us. Later, after burgers and a pathetic performance by my team, I asked Mistress how her "ride" had gone....

"Well, Slave.... we did shower together, and Jay's hands roved a bit.... but nothing really happened...., we're like old pals....who used to have sex."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering about the mysteries of human relationships, and wandering paws.

After the game, Mistress and Slave went to a music festival in an older part of town. Lots of people watching, with folks seemingly aspiring to the hipster look, as if going to a casting call for Portlandia. We couldn't stay out too late though, because Mistress had a date in the morning with our muddy ol' river.

It was the annual across-the-river-and-back swim, something she has done with a group of crazies for three years in a row now. Slave is not quite so foolish. I tend to think of all the chemicals and sludge that flows into the river as it meanders from Pittsburgh and through West Virginia on its way to our humble town. When she jumped into the river with some fellow swimmers, their whining about how cold the water was made me particularly proud of my own good judgment.

Fortunately, Mistress made it back in one piece, chilled, but with no limbs missing due to an encounter with a giant, mutant catfish. We stopped for some breakfast on the way home, Mistress still chilled. And when we made it home, she was determined to climb back into bed to catch up on sleep and our Sunday morning sexual rituals.  But first,  a shower. Maybe we should have had Jay stick around:

Excuses. Excuses. Excuses.

You may be happy to know that Slave was back in his cage again on Tuesday. Mistress sent me off to work after some morning sex (she likes it when the hard steel ring provides some extra heft to her work-a-day cock), having closed the lock and tucked away the key.

"You're not taking this key with you, Slave."

Well of course not.

At the end of the day she had scheduled a long bike ride  with former fuck-buddy Jay, so she gave me the authority to remove the cage so I could go on my own end-of-day ride without jeopardizing the family jewels.

"You do need your exercise, Slave."

When she got home, she even let her Slave worship dutifully with a little introductory full disclosure.

"It's a little grimy down there Slave.... I was on that saddle for about 20 miles...."

"That's the way I like it Mistress....."

Yum. 

But before signing off this morning , I have to go back to yesterday's blog comments , and the multiple excuses Suzanne seems to have for not coming to see her Patriots take on my Pussycats in two weeks. First there was something about nursing Jay back to health after some type of elective surgery; but he must be healthy enough that the following night they plan to take in a Red Sox play-off game, which was excuse number two; and then, the last excuse,  about how Sybriates not going for the tackiness of RVs.  It reminded me a little of a teenaged girl explaining why she couldn't turn in her Science project on time. You know: "The dog ate it"; and  "it was in the trunk of Dad's car which was totaled"; and then "the landlord evicted us and left it out with the trash". When actually she got stoned with her friends at a concert and forgot it was due.  The more excuses you have the lamer they all sound.

It's hard to imagine that Jay, having elected some surgery, can't make his own chicken soup for a couple of days. Or that there won't be other Red Sox games to attend....that's why they call it a play-off "series". More ... than ... one. As for the RV being too low brow, well, Suzanne, I'm sure something that is worthy of your Dmme-ish station could be arranged.  It would not have to be this kind, though the big screen is nice:

It's a little too pedestrian for your tastes, isn't it?

No, maybe something a tad more stylish, like this...

With a plush interior worthy of a true sybriate of station, such as yourself:

Of course it must be equipped with a suitable bedroom that has all the accourtrements you require.... a cabinet chock full of bondage equipment and lingerie for Tammy... maybe a selection of penis gags, baby monitor, and a special glass cabinet for the display of big blackie. And since Tammy may need to be "of service" on this grueling 16 hour drive to the vast and hostile wastelands of the American interior, I am sure if you put out a casting call on your blog, some of your devoted followers would surely volunteer for driving shifts just to be in your regal presence.

No, I think your aversion to an RV is just another lame excuse. The real explanation for your reluctance must be the sinking feeling you have that with the absence of Aarron "The Killer" Hernandez and Wes "The Smurf" Welker, the Pats don't match up well against the Pussycats. I was looking forward to a bet involving no points, with the spoils being something like Tammy doing his worshipful best on Mistress's clean shaven folds once the dust settles on the field. (I guess there is no dust on artificial turf, but you get my drift).

Ah well. I guess it's not to be. I will just have to fill in for Tammy once I get home from the game.

One Reader Will Be Pleased to Know....

That Slave was back in his cage yesterday.

Yes, it's been a while. We'd been traveling some together, so Mistress had no real "security" concerns. Then last week.... well, Mistress has been focused on getting her new practice up and running, and Slave had his usual excuses....

"I can't wear the cage to a Monday night football game, Mistress... They're wanding now, and what about when I need to take a pee....."

Can you imagine what a Stiller fan would say if he got a gander at my cock cage while lined up at those stadium urinals? Of course, it is made of steel, so maybe I'd get a little grudging respect!

But I'd run out of excuses by yesterday, and Mistress was not to be deterred.

"I've been a little too lax Slave....."

Naturally, I followed her directives, as the contract requires. I must say I had gotten a little rusty when it comes to squishing my balls into that infernal steel ring. And the commure to work had Slave squirming a bit to get comfortable.

But it was my lucky day in one sense. Mistress had time to stop by after a lunch meeting for a little mid-afternoon worship.  It's not quite tights weather yet here in River City, so it was simple enough for her to slide off her black undies, sit on her thrown, spread those lovely legs and let Slave do what a Slave does best.

Yum.

"How's the cage Slave", she asked after I had finished my task.

"Tight, Mistress... particularly right now."

"Awwww.... poor Slave."

(Somehow I don't think she was really feeling too sorry for me.)

And before Suzanne starts chortling to the effect of "it's about time!", I'm wondering why we haven't heard too much about Tammy being in his cage lately. Have you gone all squishy on us Suzanne?

In addition to Mistress's cage crackdown, the weekend here was remarkable for one thing that did not occur between the sheets . Slave took our cute Co-Ed and her boyfriend to see the local Pussycats in their titanic struggle against the Pack, who brought to town a whole coterie of fans from the dairy lands of WIsconsin to root them on.

It was a bizarre game, with eight turnovers and several momentum shifts. Fortunately, the local team got the last laugh, sending us home chanting "Who Dey".  But for all those fans who came from parts north in their tricked out RV's, it must have been a long drive home, particularly if they kept their silly, ventilated hats on....

It made me count the days until  October 6th, when the Patriots come to town.... we're anxious to show our hospitality to our friends from New England too! Make yoyr reservations soon, Suzanne. Unless you have an RV for Tammy to drive here....