Flash Back Thursday

Poor Mistress has to drive to Chicago today with the Dowager Domme for a birthday luncheon for her sister.  The DD has exercised her seniority rights by dictating the time of departure and that Mistress will drive to her home to pick her up. Once the boss always the boss.  She'll probably get to decide what radio station is played all the way up the highway.

Meantime, at the bottom of the pecking order, slave will be expected to follow Mistress's orders.

"Wear the cage while I'm gone, slave...."

Slave weadled a bit and got a partial pass. Example: tonight I'm going to the Pussycats Thursday night football game with Mistress lover Jay. It will be a chance for some cuck / cuckolder bonding time. Now, in theory, I could wear my cage. But there are two issues: NFL security screening involves a wanding as you enter the stadium.  That could generate an "oops" moment, as the cracker jack security guy gets a big blip as he scans my crotch.

Then there is the issue of trying to pee at halftime -- those men's room lines for the limited number of stalls are just impossible!

Fortunately, Mistress was indulgent and gave me a pass for today.

But tomorrow is a different story.  I can send her a photo to verify my caged status.  But I don't think she'd fall for the one above, sent when she was on a European tour with the DD a few years back. It's  a little dated.

New Halftime Ritual?

Slave "suffered" through two dismal football games over the weekend.

First there was the humiliation of my alma mater by the Blue Devils on our home field. Maybe it was fitting payback for our schooling their primo basketball team several times over the last two seasons. In any event, it was painful to watch.

Then I sat in brutal heat through the Pussycats' game yesterday.  Some rookie no-name QB  seemed to be possessed by the spirit of John Elway, and broke the home team's back via two long TD passes. Somewhere our erstwhile Western Correspondent was smiling (while choking his chicken, no doubt!).

But there was a glimmer of sunshine too!

On Saturday, Mistress ordered her slave to come visit her in her "Executive Suite" at halftime. So I passed on those cheesy promos for Sunday night's game that have long since pre-empted the traditional marching band highlights, and reported for duty.

"Gather my tools, slave. And don't forget the riding crop!"

Gulp!

But naturally, I complied with suitable haste.

Mistress slid into her strap-on harness, but had trouble coming up with even the Trumpiest of charges when it came to explaining the 10 or so stripes she decorated my as with during a flurry of stinging pain.

"Let's consider this preemptive discipline, slave...."

Apparently watching me writhe counted as foreplay for her next task.

Once the crop was tossed to the floor, Mistress quickly proceeded to the next phase of her slave's halftime therapy.  Since I was already "in position", all she had to do was apply some lube and she was ready to apply her self to the task at hand.

And she did so con mucho gusto, finding her target and pumping with enthusiasm until she had her own cum with a moan of delight, then collapsing onto her slave's back with the satisfaction of a pegging well done.

Once Mistress withdrew and shed her harness, slave was instructed to insert his "device" (the aneros), and given permission to fuck Mistress in more conventional style. Rest assured that slave was both privileged and happy to comply.

The only down side: Mistress had worked so efficiently to drain her slave of any uppitiness, that I did not miss my alma mater's 2nd half meltdown!  If your team is going to lose, I recommend this therapy as a way to innoculate yourself with the proper "who give's a rat's ass" attitude!

Back to the Grind

Mistress and slave made it back to River City on Tuesday night, after a long reluctant drive home.
As you might expect, we encountered the typical hassles of re-emersion in our work lives. There was plenty of pent up paper and emails from clients and colleauges  wondering where the fuck we were for so long.

The bonus is that we have our empty nest back here in town, allowing for some less restrained wake up sex these last few mornings, and some more leisurely worship at the end of our day.

So far there is no entry on what Terri over at A Married Sissy refers to as the "Cuckold Calendar", although Mistress did lunch with Jay yesterday. His child care issues remains an impediment to the sort of flexibility that makes for good cuckolding. And while Mistress enjoys spending chaste time with Jay, what really is the point of that?

"If it comes to just enjoying lunch and talking about the news of the day, slave, I'd rather do it with you", she commented last evening after I polished off some post workday worship.

Clearly, Jay can have a role in her life, but it might not be as a lunch companion!

Hopefully the two of them can work out some time together, or Mistress's roving eye may begin looking elsewhere.

Final Daze

Mistress and slave are in mourning.

It's our last day at our SW hideway until ski season arrives in December.  And worst of all, the weather here remains glorious.  Why leave cloudless skies and 78 degree temperatures for a long drive back to the drudgery of River City?

We started our last day with the deployment of Mistress's favorite power tool, as a prelude to more conventional fucking.

Then there was a brisk ride on our bikes before we squirreled them away inside, out of the elements for the winter season.

After our ride, Mistress whipped up some scrambled eggs, which she enjoyed with locally crafted muffins and peach jam.

Then we adjourned to our sun drenched patio, still waiting for a cloud to pick up.

Slave has worked his way through the NY Times, listening to the Pussycats battle fruitlessly (so far) against the dreaded Stillers. Mistress was taking one last chance to eliminate those pesky tan lines.

As the third quarter came to an end, my team was still 8 points behind, and I was looking for the sort of superstition based Karma that might give the Pussycats a little extra juice for another come from behind victory. What was missing? A lucky hat? A team t-shirt?

Then it occurred to me -- last week I deployed Mistress's favorite power tool to give Mistress a bonus cum at half time.  The Pussycats then came from behind to beat the Jets. Was it too late?  As the third quarter would down in the rain in Pittsburgh, slave retrieved the hitachi from our bedroom drawer, hooked it to the extension cord on our porch and went to work.

Mistress seemed pleased, but a little impatient.

"I thought you'd forgotten, slave....."

While it seemed unlikely that the Pussycats will pick up the good luck "vibe" from so far away, at least Mistress seemed happy with the extra afternoon orgasm.