HUH?

"Simone" and "Sam" have been forced to go on the Lam, after some sloppy security work exposed them to their potential "enemies". Fortunately, they've found help through the SBPP.
("Sex Bloggers Protection Program"). Follow their adventures here until its safe for them to resume their prior alter-egos.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

HNT / Cage Day


Yesterday morning, after my homework was done, I went upstairs to Mistress, was was still sound asleep. That late night  dinner with friends had taken it’s toll. But once her eyes adjusted she was happy to read and amused by some of my allusions to our Western Correspondent.

Once the worshipping was done, she reached for my cock, that was already firming up for her.

“Oh good… the ring is already on.”

Her fingers explored, twisting through my fur, sliding around the hard steel ring that by now was gripping my enlarged cock and balls in a rather cruel embrace.


Oh, Yeah. It was on.

It had been a while since we had fucked with it on, and I thought that was on the morning’s agenda.

“Hmmmm… Slave. It’s already so hard. But it’s Wednesday, isn’t it?  Isn’t that supposed to be your abstinence day.”

“Uhhhh…. Usually you give me warning Mistress ….. time for me to adjust my expectations.”

If I had known it was abstinence day, I might have been worshiping with a little more mental reservation – thinking about who hometown team might be meeting in the playoffs – rather than contemplating the rich reward of plunging into her.

Of course, she was just teasing.

“You know I’m not that cruel, Slave…. Here, come fuck me.”

She rolled onto her back, using the fingers still clinging to me  to guide me to her target.

I think she likes me fucking her with the ring on..  Once the blood flows into that cock, hardening it, making the ring tighter, it does not retreat easily. So Mistress knew she was in for a nice ride. And I knew it would take some considerable energy and focus to get me over the top.

So when I was finally asking for her permission to come, and she agreed, with  her sweet “Yes, My Slave”, I exploded with a groan that startled the poor cat, and came in a series of spurts that pushed my humble seed through the constricting steel ring that gripped me.

Yowser.

Once I showered, I presented myself to Mistress, with the cage now affixed to the steel ring. She snapped the lock closed with a precocious smile, and kissed me goodbye as I headed  off to work. Mistress lingered for a bike ride, catching a ride downtown later in the morning  with a male friends. Somehow she had persuaded him to pick her up a pumpkin latte for the drive.

She can be very persuasive.

Later at work, hoping to distract Mistress and remind her of her grip on me, I closed my office door, dropped my trousers, and sent her a shot via text message of my humbled cock, locked away in it’s steel cage.

Her response “yummy”.

Aisha did a thoughtful blog yesterday on the role of pain in this sort of relationship.  And in response to a comment, she asked about the pain that my cage can induce.

Of course, should my cock become hard inside that sucker: that’s pain. Yow. But normally I can use my brain to control that. Mind over fleshy matter.  But Once Mistress, when traveling, had me sleep in the cage (it might have been the old, plastic CB 2000 model), and a dream or some other stimulus caught me unawares. I woke up with a very big ouch, the ring around my balls and the plastic sheath digging deeply into throbbing flesh that had acquired a life of it’s own.

Thankfully, that little experiment has not happened again. But if Mistress ever wanted to really punish me,  that would be the way to do it.

Wearing the cage to work or to a social event is a very nice reminder of her control over me: it’s never really out of mind. It can pinch, bind, require a little adjustment to reduce that minor discomfort. And of course, there is the way one had to pee. All reminders that Mistress is in charge.

Aisha, if we ever join you and Sir D for one of those little “meet and crops”, or whatever you call them, I suspect Mistress will want to keep me in that cage. She will want to know I am securely tucked away, in case something (or someone) catches her eye and distracts her for w while. And yes, should I witness something that gets the better of my mental “governor”, things could get very discomforting.

But it does sound like lots of fun.

By the way, today’s illustration is my Slave’s eye view, prior to worshipping Mistress when we arrived home last night. I must have done a good job, since she removed my cage not long after.

HNT / Cage Day


Yesterday morning, after my homework was done, I went upstairs to Mistress, was was still sound asleep. That late night  dinner with friends had taken it’s toll. But once her eyes adjusted she was happy to read and amused by some of my allusions to our Western Correspondent.

Once the worshipping was done, she reached for my cock, that was already firming up for her.

“Oh good… the ring is already on.”

Her fingers explored, twisting through my fur, sliding around the hard steel ring that by now was gripping my enlarged cock and balls in a rather cruel embrace.


Oh, Yeah. It was on.

It had been a while since we had fucked with it on, and I thought that was on the morning’s agenda.

“Hmmmm… Slave. It’s already so hard. But it’s Wednesday, isn’t it?  Isn’t that supposed to be your abstinence day.”

“Uhhhh…. Usually you give me warning Mistress ….. time for me to adjust my expectations.”

If I had known it was abstinence day, I might have been worshiping with a little more mental reservation – thinking about who hometown team might be meeting in the playoffs – rather than contemplating the rich reward of plunging into her.

Of course, she was just teasing.

“You know I’m not that cruel, Slave…. Here, come fuck me.”

She rolled onto her back, using the fingers still clinging to me  to guide me to her target.

I think she likes me fucking her with the ring on..  Once the blood flows into that cock, hardening it, making the ring tighter, it does not retreat easily. So Mistress knew she was in for a nice ride. And I knew it would take some considerable energy and focus to get me over the top.

So when I was finally asking for her permission to come, and she agreed, with  her sweet “Yes, My Slave”, I exploded with a groan that startled the poor cat, and came in a series of spurts that pushed my humble seed through the constricting steel ring that gripped me.

Yowser.

Once I showered, I presented myself to Mistress, with the cage now affixed to the steel ring. She snapped the lock closed with a precocious smile, and kissed me goodbye as I headed  off to work. Mistress lingered for a bike ride, catching a ride downtown later in the morning  with a male friends. Somehow she had persuaded him to pick her up a pumpkin latte for the drive.

She can be very persuasive.

Later at work, hoping to distract Mistress and remind her of her grip on me, I closed my office door, dropped my trousers, and sent her a shot via text message of my humbled cock, locked away in it’s steel cage.

Her response “yummy”.

Aisha did a thoughtful blog yesterday on the role of pain in this sort of relationship.  And in response to a comment, she asked about the pain that my cage can induce.

Of course, should my cock become hard inside that sucker: that’s pain. Yow. But normally I can use my brain to control that. Mind over fleshy matter.  But Once Mistress, when traveling, had me sleep in the cage (it might have been the old, plastic CB 2000 model), and a dream or some other stimulus caught me unawares. I woke up with a very big ouch, the ring around my balls and the plastic sheath digging deeply into throbbing flesh that had acquired a life of it’s own.

Thankfully, that little experiment has not happened again. But if Mistress ever wanted to really punish me,  that would be the way to do it.

Wearing the cage to work or to a social event is a very nice reminder of her control over me: it’s never really out of mind. It can pinch, bind, require a little adjustment to reduce that minor discomfort. And of course, there is the way one had to pee. All reminders that Mistress is in charge.

Aisha, if we ever join you and Sir D for one of those little “meet and crops”, or whatever you call them, I suspect Mistress will want to keep me in that cage. She will want to know I am securely tucked away, in case something (or someone) catches her eye and distracts her for w while. And yes, should I witness something that gets the better of my mental “governor”, things could get very discomforting.

But it does sound like lots of fun.

By the way, today’s illustration is my Slave’s eye view, prior to worshipping Mistress when we arrived home last night. I must have done a good job, since she removed my cage not long after.

HNT / Cage Day


Yesterday morning, after my homework was done, I went upstairs to Mistress, was was still sound asleep. That late night  dinner with friends had taken it’s toll. But once her eyes adjusted she was happy to read and amused by some of my allusions to our Western Correspondent.

Once the worshipping was done, she reached for my cock, that was already firming up for her.

“Oh good… the ring is already on.”

Her fingers explored, twisting through my fur, sliding around the hard steel ring that by now was gripping my enlarged cock and balls in a rather cruel embrace.


Oh, Yeah. It was on.

It had been a while since we had fucked with it on, and I thought that was on the morning’s agenda.

“Hmmmm… Slave. It’s already so hard. But it’s Wednesday, isn’t it?  Isn’t that supposed to be your abstinence day.”

“Uhhhh…. Usually you give me warning Mistress ….. time for me to adjust my expectations.”

If I had known it was abstinence day, I might have been worshiping with a little more mental reservation – thinking about who hometown team might be meeting in the playoffs – rather than contemplating the rich reward of plunging into her.

Of course, she was just teasing.

“You know I’m not that cruel, Slave…. Here, come fuck me.”

She rolled onto her back, using the fingers still clinging to me  to guide me to her target.

I think she likes me fucking her with the ring on..  Once the blood flows into that cock, hardening it, making the ring tighter, it does not retreat easily. So Mistress knew she was in for a nice ride. And I knew it would take some considerable energy and focus to get me over the top.

So when I was finally asking for her permission to come, and she agreed, with  her sweet “Yes, My Slave”, I exploded with a groan that startled the poor cat, and came in a series of spurts that pushed my humble seed through the constricting steel ring that gripped me.

Yowser.

Once I showered, I presented myself to Mistress, with the cage now affixed to the steel ring. She snapped the lock closed with a precocious smile, and kissed me goodbye as I headed  off to work. Mistress lingered for a bike ride, catching a ride downtown later in the morning  with a male friends. Somehow she had persuaded him to pick her up a pumpkin latte for the drive.

She can be very persuasive.

Later at work, hoping to distract Mistress and remind her of her grip on me, I closed my office door, dropped my trousers, and sent her a shot via text message of my humbled cock, locked away in it’s steel cage.

Her response “yummy”.

Aisha did a thoughtful blog yesterday on the role of pain in this sort of relationship.  And in response to a comment, she asked about the pain that my cage can induce.

Of course, should my cock become hard inside that sucker: that’s pain. Yow. But normally I can use my brain to control that. Mind over fleshy matter.  But Once Mistress, when traveling, had me sleep in the cage (it might have been the old, plastic CB 2000 model), and a dream or some other stimulus caught me unawares. I woke up with a very big ouch, the ring around my balls and the plastic sheath digging deeply into throbbing flesh that had acquired a life of it’s own.

Thankfully, that little experiment has not happened again. But if Mistress ever wanted to really punish me,  that would be the way to do it.

Wearing the cage to work or to a social event is a very nice reminder of her control over me: it’s never really out of mind. It can pinch, bind, require a little adjustment to reduce that minor discomfort. And of course, there is the way one had to pee. All reminders that Mistress is in charge.

Aisha, if we ever join you and Sir D for one of those little “meet and crops”, or whatever you call them, I suspect Mistress will want to keep me in that cage. She will want to know I am securely tucked away, in case something (or someone) catches her eye and distracts her for w while. And yes, should I witness something that gets the better of my mental “governor”, things could get very discomforting.

But it does sound like lots of fun.

By the way, today’s illustration is my Slave’s eye view, prior to worshipping Mistress when we arrived home last night. I must have done a good job, since she removed my cage not long after.

HNT / Cage Day


Yesterday morning, after my homework was done, I went upstairs to Mistress, was was still sound asleep. That late night  dinner with friends had taken it’s toll. But once her eyes adjusted she was happy to read and amused by some of my allusions to our Western Correspondent.

Once the worshipping was done, she reached for my cock, that was already firming up for her.

“Oh good… the ring is already on.”

Her fingers explored, twisting through my fur, sliding around the hard steel ring that by now was gripping my enlarged cock and balls in a rather cruel embrace.


Oh, Yeah. It was on.

It had been a while since we had fucked with it on, and I thought that was on the morning’s agenda.

“Hmmmm… Slave. It’s already so hard. But it’s Wednesday, isn’t it?  Isn’t that supposed to be your abstinence day.”

“Uhhhh…. Usually you give me warning Mistress ….. time for me to adjust my expectations.”

If I had known it was abstinence day, I might have been worshiping with a little more mental reservation – thinking about who hometown team might be meeting in the playoffs – rather than contemplating the rich reward of plunging into her.

Of course, she was just teasing.

“You know I’m not that cruel, Slave…. Here, come fuck me.”

She rolled onto her back, using the fingers still clinging to me  to guide me to her target.

I think she likes me fucking her with the ring on..  Once the blood flows into that cock, hardening it, making the ring tighter, it does not retreat easily. So Mistress knew she was in for a nice ride. And I knew it would take some considerable energy and focus to get me over the top.

So when I was finally asking for her permission to come, and she agreed, with  her sweet “Yes, My Slave”, I exploded with a groan that startled the poor cat, and came in a series of spurts that pushed my humble seed through the constricting steel ring that gripped me.

Yowser.

Once I showered, I presented myself to Mistress, with the cage now affixed to the steel ring. She snapped the lock closed with a precocious smile, and kissed me goodbye as I headed  off to work. Mistress lingered for a bike ride, catching a ride downtown later in the morning  with a male friends. Somehow she had persuaded him to pick her up a pumpkin latte for the drive.

She can be very persuasive.

Later at work, hoping to distract Mistress and remind her of her grip on me, I closed my office door, dropped my trousers, and sent her a shot via text message of my humbled cock, locked away in it’s steel cage.

Her response “yummy”.

Aisha did a thoughtful blog yesterday on the role of pain in this sort of relationship.  And in response to a comment, she asked about the pain that my cage can induce.

Of course, should my cock become hard inside that sucker: that’s pain. Yow. But normally I can use my brain to control that. Mind over fleshy matter.  But Once Mistress, when traveling, had me sleep in the cage (it might have been the old, plastic CB 2000 model), and a dream or some other stimulus caught me unawares. I woke up with a very big ouch, the ring around my balls and the plastic sheath digging deeply into throbbing flesh that had acquired a life of it’s own.

Thankfully, that little experiment has not happened again. But if Mistress ever wanted to really punish me,  that would be the way to do it.

Wearing the cage to work or to a social event is a very nice reminder of her control over me: it’s never really out of mind. It can pinch, bind, require a little adjustment to reduce that minor discomfort. And of course, there is the way one had to pee. All reminders that Mistress is in charge.

Aisha, if we ever join you and Sir D for one of those little “meet and crops”, or whatever you call them, I suspect Mistress will want to keep me in that cage. She will want to know I am securely tucked away, in case something (or someone) catches her eye and distracts her for w while. And yes, should I witness something that gets the better of my mental “governor”, things could get very discomforting.

But it does sound like lots of fun.

By the way, today’s illustration is my Slave’s eye view, prior to worshipping Mistress when we arrived home last night. I must have done a good job, since she removed my cage not long after.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

She's Got Legs....

Slept in too late this morning. So our readers may only get a brief dose of Mick and Molly this morning.

Here is the brief update:

Morning worship, then the chance to fuck. Check.

Drive to work with Mistress’s legs on the dash, giving me a chance to run my fingers along her smooth, well exercised thighs. Check.

Lunch time with Mistress, with the opportunity to worship. Check.

She left me with the seductive scent of her juices on my face and fingers to remind me of her the rest of the afternoon.

We had plans to join friends at a downtown restaurant at a benefit dinner for an AIDS charity. Before hand we stopped for a drink. Mistress ordered an “Old Fashion”, in honor of her hero, Don Draper, the lead character in Mad Men. His suave, stylish demeanor makes his habitual womanizing seem only a minor character flaw.

And as we sipped our drinks, we talked about her conversation earlier in the day with our Western Correspondent.

“M says that it’s probably a good thing that we can’t have real sex, Slave?”

Of course, Mistress has all options available to her. But M is a little reticent, for several very understandable reasons.

“And why is that?”

“He says it might ruin our phone sex….”

I wondered what our friends in the blog-o-verse think about that?

And I suppose it could “ruin” them once (and if) the anticipated spontaneous human combustion occurs: when special occasion cock meets Mistress’s smoldering cunt, the anticipation would be over. Could they turn back? Would the physical distance between them just become a source of frustration?

Of course, what if it just doesn’t fit? Another problem to consider.

As we sat there I pulled out my cell phone to give M a call. I didn’t bring up the subject of the non-compete. We’ll let our lawyers work that out.

“M, just so you know, you and B (his wife) are welcome to join us at our Mountain hide-away the weekend after Thanksgiving.”

M thanked me for the invitation, but was , understandably, non-committal.

I wanted him to know that Slave was extending the invitation, as well as Mistress. But whether it ever happens…. Only ‘Nilla’s goddess knows for sure.

After a long dinner, both Slave and Mistress were pretty tired and very full. We read a bit, then went to sleep.

But Mistress had one final word…. “Slave, we’re driving separately tomorrow …. I want you to wear your cage.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

When I woke this morning, I grabbed the steel ring, to make sure I could slide it on before the colder weather made my balls a little less co-operative.

So this morning, when the blog reading and worship is done, Mistress will get the benefit of a cock made particularly hard and needy by that tight steel ring.

Deadline time…..will report back later. Have a great Wednesday, all.




She's Got Legs....

Slept in too late this morning. So our readers may only get a brief dose of Mick and Molly this morning.

Here is the brief update:

Morning worship, then the chance to fuck. Check.

Drive to work with Mistress’s legs on the dash, giving me a chance to run my fingers along her smooth, well exercised thighs. Check.

Lunch time with Mistress, with the opportunity to worship. Check.

She left me with the seductive scent of her juices on my face and fingers to remind me of her the rest of the afternoon.

We had plans to join friends at a downtown restaurant at a benefit dinner for an AIDS charity. Before hand we stopped for a drink. Mistress ordered an “Old Fashion”, in honor of her hero, Don Draper, the lead character in Mad Men. His suave, stylish demeanor makes his habitual womanizing seem only a minor character flaw.

And as we sipped our drinks, we talked about her conversation earlier in the day with our Western Correspondent.

“M says that it’s probably a good thing that we can’t have real sex, Slave?”

Of course, Mistress has all options available to her. But M is a little reticent, for several very understandable reasons.

“And why is that?”

“He says it might ruin our phone sex….”

I wondered what our friends in the blog-o-verse think about that?

And I suppose it could “ruin” them once (and if) the anticipated spontaneous human combustion occurs: when special occasion cock meets Mistress’s smoldering cunt, the anticipation would be over. Could they turn back? Would the physical distance between them just become a source of frustration?

Of course, what if it just doesn’t fit? Another problem to consider.

As we sat there I pulled out my cell phone to give M a call. I didn’t bring up the subject of the non-compete. We’ll let our lawyers work that out.

“M, just so you know, you and B (his wife) are welcome to join us at our Mountain hide-away the weekend after Thanksgiving.”

M thanked me for the invitation, but was , understandably, non-committal.

I wanted him to know that Slave was extending the invitation, as well as Mistress. But whether it ever happens…. Only ‘Nilla’s goddess knows for sure.

After a long dinner, both Slave and Mistress were pretty tired and very full. We read a bit, then went to sleep.

But Mistress had one final word…. “Slave, we’re driving separately tomorrow …. I want you to wear your cage.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

When I woke this morning, I grabbed the steel ring, to make sure I could slide it on before the colder weather made my balls a little less co-operative.

So this morning, when the blog reading and worship is done, Mistress will get the benefit of a cock made particularly hard and needy by that tight steel ring.

Deadline time…..will report back later. Have a great Wednesday, all.




She's Got Legs....

Slept in too late this morning. So our readers may only get a brief dose of Mick and Molly this morning.

Here is the brief update:

Morning worship, then the chance to fuck. Check.

Drive to work with Mistress’s legs on the dash, giving me a chance to run my fingers along her smooth, well exercised thighs. Check.

Lunch time with Mistress, with the opportunity to worship. Check.

She left me with the seductive scent of her juices on my face and fingers to remind me of her the rest of the afternoon.

We had plans to join friends at a downtown restaurant at a benefit dinner for an AIDS charity. Before hand we stopped for a drink. Mistress ordered an “Old Fashion”, in honor of her hero, Don Draper, the lead character in Mad Men. His suave, stylish demeanor makes his habitual womanizing seem only a minor character flaw.

And as we sipped our drinks, we talked about her conversation earlier in the day with our Western Correspondent.

“M says that it’s probably a good thing that we can’t have real sex, Slave?”

Of course, Mistress has all options available to her. But M is a little reticent, for several very understandable reasons.

“And why is that?”

“He says it might ruin our phone sex….”

I wondered what our friends in the blog-o-verse think about that?

And I suppose it could “ruin” them once (and if) the anticipated spontaneous human combustion occurs: when special occasion cock meets Mistress’s smoldering cunt, the anticipation would be over. Could they turn back? Would the physical distance between them just become a source of frustration?

Of course, what if it just doesn’t fit? Another problem to consider.

As we sat there I pulled out my cell phone to give M a call. I didn’t bring up the subject of the non-compete. We’ll let our lawyers work that out.

“M, just so you know, you and B (his wife) are welcome to join us at our Mountain hide-away the weekend after Thanksgiving.”

M thanked me for the invitation, but was , understandably, non-committal.

I wanted him to know that Slave was extending the invitation, as well as Mistress. But whether it ever happens…. Only ‘Nilla’s goddess knows for sure.

After a long dinner, both Slave and Mistress were pretty tired and very full. We read a bit, then went to sleep.

But Mistress had one final word…. “Slave, we’re driving separately tomorrow …. I want you to wear your cage.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

When I woke this morning, I grabbed the steel ring, to make sure I could slide it on before the colder weather made my balls a little less co-operative.

So this morning, when the blog reading and worship is done, Mistress will get the benefit of a cock made particularly hard and needy by that tight steel ring.

Deadline time…..will report back later. Have a great Wednesday, all.




She's Got Legs....

Slept in too late this morning. So our readers may only get a brief dose of Mick and Molly this morning.

Here is the brief update:

Morning worship, then the chance to fuck. Check.

Drive to work with Mistress’s legs on the dash, giving me a chance to run my fingers along her smooth, well exercised thighs. Check.

Lunch time with Mistress, with the opportunity to worship. Check.

She left me with the seductive scent of her juices on my face and fingers to remind me of her the rest of the afternoon.

We had plans to join friends at a downtown restaurant at a benefit dinner for an AIDS charity. Before hand we stopped for a drink. Mistress ordered an “Old Fashion”, in honor of her hero, Don Draper, the lead character in Mad Men. His suave, stylish demeanor makes his habitual womanizing seem only a minor character flaw.

And as we sipped our drinks, we talked about her conversation earlier in the day with our Western Correspondent.

“M says that it’s probably a good thing that we can’t have real sex, Slave?”

Of course, Mistress has all options available to her. But M is a little reticent, for several very understandable reasons.

“And why is that?”

“He says it might ruin our phone sex….”

I wondered what our friends in the blog-o-verse think about that?

And I suppose it could “ruin” them once (and if) the anticipated spontaneous human combustion occurs: when special occasion cock meets Mistress’s smoldering cunt, the anticipation would be over. Could they turn back? Would the physical distance between them just become a source of frustration?

Of course, what if it just doesn’t fit? Another problem to consider.

As we sat there I pulled out my cell phone to give M a call. I didn’t bring up the subject of the non-compete. We’ll let our lawyers work that out.

“M, just so you know, you and B (his wife) are welcome to join us at our Mountain hide-away the weekend after Thanksgiving.”

M thanked me for the invitation, but was , understandably, non-committal.

I wanted him to know that Slave was extending the invitation, as well as Mistress. But whether it ever happens…. Only ‘Nilla’s goddess knows for sure.

After a long dinner, both Slave and Mistress were pretty tired and very full. We read a bit, then went to sleep.

But Mistress had one final word…. “Slave, we’re driving separately tomorrow …. I want you to wear your cage.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

When I woke this morning, I grabbed the steel ring, to make sure I could slide it on before the colder weather made my balls a little less co-operative.

So this morning, when the blog reading and worship is done, Mistress will get the benefit of a cock made particularly hard and needy by that tight steel ring.

Deadline time…..will report back later. Have a great Wednesday, all.




Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Mistress Hits the Ground Running


Our readers will be – I think – happy to know that Mistress recovered quickly and quite wantonly from her 4 ½ hours in the saddle Sunday morning. While we mutually abstained Sunday, after those long bike and car rides, Mistress was more than game when I woke her to read the blog yesterday. She gladly accepted my devotions with lips and tongue, though I made sure that my attentions were gentle and therapeutic, not the more aggressive clit sucking that she sometimes enjoys.

And after a soothing orgasm, she spoke words that I always answer in the affirmative:

“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave?”

Later, as I was wading through an accumulation of paper on my desk, Mistress called to say she was stopping by to drop some papers off to a colleague.

“Would you like me to stop by, Slave?”

There is only one sane answer to that question.

Of course, Mistress.”

And once her errand was done, Mistress strode into my office, decked out in her black suit, bare legs and heels. She quickly assumed her throne for some midmorning worship. And her parts responded as you might expect, no worse for the weekend’s wear and tear.

On the drive home, Mistress reported on her chats with M during the day. They had not had the chance to talk on Sunday. So there was some mutual “after action” reporting to do about our rather depraved Saturday evening 3-way encounter.

“He says he was a little nervous about how my Slave might have reacted to it all.  Then, when he read the blog, he figured you were OK.”

“I think you know I was fine, Mistress. It was all pretty crazy, but very hot.”

“I told him that it was a little weird to be in the middle – worrying about making sure both of my men were enjoying themselves. I felt I had to make sure you were each getting equal attention.”

Yes, Mistress did quite a balancing act… Muttering endearments to me, while, over the phone, being very solicitous about the status of her “special occasion cock.”

“He said he knows what it’s like – when he’s had three ways, he always worries that one of his girls might feel that he is giving more attention to the other.”

Mistress laughed, eyes rolling. 

“He does have some wild and crazy stories, Slave….”

“Maybe we should make him sign a non-compete as our Western Correspondent. We don’t want to see him peddling those stories to some other blog, Mistress.”

“Not a bad idea, Slave.”

At home, our legs and the spitting rain told us that we could pass on our evening bike ride.

So we settled into bed for a little pre-dinner “rest” period. And of course, Mistress received some worship as she reviewed the comments made by our sub-sisters in response to Monday’s blog.

Sin’s questions about the contract got me thinking about when it was originally executed.  I found the original in my dresser drawer. As it turns out, the one year anniversary approaches at the end of the week .

There will certainly have to be a special anniversary edition of UCTMW to commemorate the occasion. Maybe I can call it a “collector’s edition” and double the newsstand price?

And yes, Sin, Mistress does have a great deal of leeway. She can share me with whomever she chooses. ‘Nilla certainly had that right. Her rights to me can be sold, leased  or assigned. (So far no bidders. Luckily the market for slaves is as slow as the real estate market, and I am probably way over priced and fully depreciated.)

And yes, Mistress has the right to acquire and train other subs, or to submit to a Master or two.

It’s All up to her.

How would I feel about that? It’s hard to anticipate, but Mistress is kind and merciful, as the little dialogue above shows. I am sure that if she ever felt the need to expand her stable, I would still be well taken care of here in the Collins’s household.

All this review, and  the latest episode of Mad Men,  had both of us “animated” by the time we retired to our chambers.

“Why don’t you insert your device, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

In bed, we kissed and canoodled a bit, with Mistress’s hands lingering on my hard and needy cock. Then I asked about her preferences.

“Would you like the Hitachi tonight, Mistress?”

“Hmmm…. I guess it’s been since Thursday.” (her date that morning with M). That might be nice Slave.”

Soon She was on her back, legs spread lasciviously. And I had the tool deployed, set on low, sliding it too and fro at the junction of those muscular, well exercised thighs.

She was very excited. Very. But soon began to complain.

“You’re frustrating me, Slave….. why do you do that?”

“I’m really not trying to Mistress… “

Well, I suppose I was taking a bit of the pressure off from time to time, sliding it off her sweet spot just a bit. I do like to see her squirm. What was the rush?

“No…there…”

Her hand was guiding me…. And I co-operated. Sort of.

“I guess it’s easier when you do it yourself…. When M is on the phone, instructing you where to put it….”

“Ahhh, yes…. It is Slave…. Right there.”

I decided I had made her squirm long enough, so took her cues, pressed firmly. And…

“Oh God ….. yes ….. AHHHHHHHH.”

Mistress hips launched themselves off the bed, she rolled to the right and the left, her thighs gripping the mighty little tool in a tight hug, her whole body coiled around the spot where machine and drippy little mound met.

Then she collapsed back onto the bed, lungs sucking in air through her sobs of relief.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

Is this where you came in?





Mistress Hits the Ground Running


Our readers will be – I think – happy to know that Mistress recovered quickly and quite wantonly from her 4 ½ hours in the saddle Sunday morning. While we mutually abstained Sunday, after those long bike and car rides, Mistress was more than game when I woke her to read the blog yesterday. She gladly accepted my devotions with lips and tongue, though I made sure that my attentions were gentle and therapeutic, not the more aggressive clit sucking that she sometimes enjoys.

And after a soothing orgasm, she spoke words that I always answer in the affirmative:

“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave?”

Later, as I was wading through an accumulation of paper on my desk, Mistress called to say she was stopping by to drop some papers off to a colleague.

“Would you like me to stop by, Slave?”

There is only one sane answer to that question.

Of course, Mistress.”

And once her errand was done, Mistress strode into my office, decked out in her black suit, bare legs and heels. She quickly assumed her throne for some midmorning worship. And her parts responded as you might expect, no worse for the weekend’s wear and tear.

On the drive home, Mistress reported on her chats with M during the day. They had not had the chance to talk on Sunday. So there was some mutual “after action” reporting to do about our rather depraved Saturday evening 3-way encounter.

“He says he was a little nervous about how my Slave might have reacted to it all.  Then, when he read the blog, he figured you were OK.”

“I think you know I was fine, Mistress. It was all pretty crazy, but very hot.”

“I told him that it was a little weird to be in the middle – worrying about making sure both of my men were enjoying themselves. I felt I had to make sure you were each getting equal attention.”

Yes, Mistress did quite a balancing act… Muttering endearments to me, while, over the phone, being very solicitous about the status of her “special occasion cock.”

“He said he knows what it’s like – when he’s had three ways, he always worries that one of his girls might feel that he is giving more attention to the other.”

Mistress laughed, eyes rolling. 

“He does have some wild and crazy stories, Slave….”

“Maybe we should make him sign a non-compete as our Western Correspondent. We don’t want to see him peddling those stories to some other blog, Mistress.”

“Not a bad idea, Slave.”

At home, our legs and the spitting rain told us that we could pass on our evening bike ride.

So we settled into bed for a little pre-dinner “rest” period. And of course, Mistress received some worship as she reviewed the comments made by our sub-sisters in response to Monday’s blog.

Sin’s questions about the contract got me thinking about when it was originally executed.  I found the original in my dresser drawer. As it turns out, the one year anniversary approaches at the end of the week .

There will certainly have to be a special anniversary edition of UCTMW to commemorate the occasion. Maybe I can call it a “collector’s edition” and double the newsstand price?

And yes, Sin, Mistress does have a great deal of leeway. She can share me with whomever she chooses. ‘Nilla certainly had that right. Her rights to me can be sold, leased  or assigned. (So far no bidders. Luckily the market for slaves is as slow as the real estate market, and I am probably way over priced and fully depreciated.)

And yes, Mistress has the right to acquire and train other subs, or to submit to a Master or two.

It’s All up to her.

How would I feel about that? It’s hard to anticipate, but Mistress is kind and merciful, as the little dialogue above shows. I am sure that if she ever felt the need to expand her stable, I would still be well taken care of here in the Collins’s household.

All this review, and  the latest episode of Mad Men,  had both of us “animated” by the time we retired to our chambers.

“Why don’t you insert your device, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

In bed, we kissed and canoodled a bit, with Mistress’s hands lingering on my hard and needy cock. Then I asked about her preferences.

“Would you like the Hitachi tonight, Mistress?”

“Hmmm…. I guess it’s been since Thursday.” (her date that morning with M). That might be nice Slave.”

Soon She was on her back, legs spread lasciviously. And I had the tool deployed, set on low, sliding it too and fro at the junction of those muscular, well exercised thighs.

She was very excited. Very. But soon began to complain.

“You’re frustrating me, Slave….. why do you do that?”

“I’m really not trying to Mistress… “

Well, I suppose I was taking a bit of the pressure off from time to time, sliding it off her sweet spot just a bit. I do like to see her squirm. What was the rush?

“No…there…”

Her hand was guiding me…. And I co-operated. Sort of.

“I guess it’s easier when you do it yourself…. When M is on the phone, instructing you where to put it….”

“Ahhh, yes…. It is Slave…. Right there.”

I decided I had made her squirm long enough, so took her cues, pressed firmly. And…

“Oh God ….. yes ….. AHHHHHHHH.”

Mistress hips launched themselves off the bed, she rolled to the right and the left, her thighs gripping the mighty little tool in a tight hug, her whole body coiled around the spot where machine and drippy little mound met.

Then she collapsed back onto the bed, lungs sucking in air through her sobs of relief.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

Is this where you came in?





Mistress Hits the Ground Running


Our readers will be – I think – happy to know that Mistress recovered quickly and quite wantonly from her 4 ½ hours in the saddle Sunday morning. While we mutually abstained Sunday, after those long bike and car rides, Mistress was more than game when I woke her to read the blog yesterday. She gladly accepted my devotions with lips and tongue, though I made sure that my attentions were gentle and therapeutic, not the more aggressive clit sucking that she sometimes enjoys.

And after a soothing orgasm, she spoke words that I always answer in the affirmative:

“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave?”

Later, as I was wading through an accumulation of paper on my desk, Mistress called to say she was stopping by to drop some papers off to a colleague.

“Would you like me to stop by, Slave?”

There is only one sane answer to that question.

Of course, Mistress.”

And once her errand was done, Mistress strode into my office, decked out in her black suit, bare legs and heels. She quickly assumed her throne for some midmorning worship. And her parts responded as you might expect, no worse for the weekend’s wear and tear.

On the drive home, Mistress reported on her chats with M during the day. They had not had the chance to talk on Sunday. So there was some mutual “after action” reporting to do about our rather depraved Saturday evening 3-way encounter.

“He says he was a little nervous about how my Slave might have reacted to it all.  Then, when he read the blog, he figured you were OK.”

“I think you know I was fine, Mistress. It was all pretty crazy, but very hot.”

“I told him that it was a little weird to be in the middle – worrying about making sure both of my men were enjoying themselves. I felt I had to make sure you were each getting equal attention.”

Yes, Mistress did quite a balancing act… Muttering endearments to me, while, over the phone, being very solicitous about the status of her “special occasion cock.”

“He said he knows what it’s like – when he’s had three ways, he always worries that one of his girls might feel that he is giving more attention to the other.”

Mistress laughed, eyes rolling. 

“He does have some wild and crazy stories, Slave….”

“Maybe we should make him sign a non-compete as our Western Correspondent. We don’t want to see him peddling those stories to some other blog, Mistress.”

“Not a bad idea, Slave.”

At home, our legs and the spitting rain told us that we could pass on our evening bike ride.

So we settled into bed for a little pre-dinner “rest” period. And of course, Mistress received some worship as she reviewed the comments made by our sub-sisters in response to Monday’s blog.

Sin’s questions about the contract got me thinking about when it was originally executed.  I found the original in my dresser drawer. As it turns out, the one year anniversary approaches at the end of the week .

There will certainly have to be a special anniversary edition of UCTMW to commemorate the occasion. Maybe I can call it a “collector’s edition” and double the newsstand price?

And yes, Sin, Mistress does have a great deal of leeway. She can share me with whomever she chooses. ‘Nilla certainly had that right. Her rights to me can be sold, leased  or assigned. (So far no bidders. Luckily the market for slaves is as slow as the real estate market, and I am probably way over priced and fully depreciated.)

And yes, Mistress has the right to acquire and train other subs, or to submit to a Master or two.

It’s All up to her.

How would I feel about that? It’s hard to anticipate, but Mistress is kind and merciful, as the little dialogue above shows. I am sure that if she ever felt the need to expand her stable, I would still be well taken care of here in the Collins’s household.

All this review, and  the latest episode of Mad Men,  had both of us “animated” by the time we retired to our chambers.

“Why don’t you insert your device, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

In bed, we kissed and canoodled a bit, with Mistress’s hands lingering on my hard and needy cock. Then I asked about her preferences.

“Would you like the Hitachi tonight, Mistress?”

“Hmmm…. I guess it’s been since Thursday.” (her date that morning with M). That might be nice Slave.”

Soon She was on her back, legs spread lasciviously. And I had the tool deployed, set on low, sliding it too and fro at the junction of those muscular, well exercised thighs.

She was very excited. Very. But soon began to complain.

“You’re frustrating me, Slave….. why do you do that?”

“I’m really not trying to Mistress… “

Well, I suppose I was taking a bit of the pressure off from time to time, sliding it off her sweet spot just a bit. I do like to see her squirm. What was the rush?

“No…there…”

Her hand was guiding me…. And I co-operated. Sort of.

“I guess it’s easier when you do it yourself…. When M is on the phone, instructing you where to put it….”

“Ahhh, yes…. It is Slave…. Right there.”

I decided I had made her squirm long enough, so took her cues, pressed firmly. And…

“Oh God ….. yes ….. AHHHHHHHH.”

Mistress hips launched themselves off the bed, she rolled to the right and the left, her thighs gripping the mighty little tool in a tight hug, her whole body coiled around the spot where machine and drippy little mound met.

Then she collapsed back onto the bed, lungs sucking in air through her sobs of relief.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

Is this where you came in?





Mistress Hits the Ground Running


Our readers will be – I think – happy to know that Mistress recovered quickly and quite wantonly from her 4 ½ hours in the saddle Sunday morning. While we mutually abstained Sunday, after those long bike and car rides, Mistress was more than game when I woke her to read the blog yesterday. She gladly accepted my devotions with lips and tongue, though I made sure that my attentions were gentle and therapeutic, not the more aggressive clit sucking that she sometimes enjoys.

And after a soothing orgasm, she spoke words that I always answer in the affirmative:

“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave?”

Later, as I was wading through an accumulation of paper on my desk, Mistress called to say she was stopping by to drop some papers off to a colleague.

“Would you like me to stop by, Slave?”

There is only one sane answer to that question.

Of course, Mistress.”

And once her errand was done, Mistress strode into my office, decked out in her black suit, bare legs and heels. She quickly assumed her throne for some midmorning worship. And her parts responded as you might expect, no worse for the weekend’s wear and tear.

On the drive home, Mistress reported on her chats with M during the day. They had not had the chance to talk on Sunday. So there was some mutual “after action” reporting to do about our rather depraved Saturday evening 3-way encounter.

“He says he was a little nervous about how my Slave might have reacted to it all.  Then, when he read the blog, he figured you were OK.”

“I think you know I was fine, Mistress. It was all pretty crazy, but very hot.”

“I told him that it was a little weird to be in the middle – worrying about making sure both of my men were enjoying themselves. I felt I had to make sure you were each getting equal attention.”

Yes, Mistress did quite a balancing act… Muttering endearments to me, while, over the phone, being very solicitous about the status of her “special occasion cock.”

“He said he knows what it’s like – when he’s had three ways, he always worries that one of his girls might feel that he is giving more attention to the other.”

Mistress laughed, eyes rolling. 

“He does have some wild and crazy stories, Slave….”

“Maybe we should make him sign a non-compete as our Western Correspondent. We don’t want to see him peddling those stories to some other blog, Mistress.”

“Not a bad idea, Slave.”

At home, our legs and the spitting rain told us that we could pass on our evening bike ride.

So we settled into bed for a little pre-dinner “rest” period. And of course, Mistress received some worship as she reviewed the comments made by our sub-sisters in response to Monday’s blog.

Sin’s questions about the contract got me thinking about when it was originally executed.  I found the original in my dresser drawer. As it turns out, the one year anniversary approaches at the end of the week .

There will certainly have to be a special anniversary edition of UCTMW to commemorate the occasion. Maybe I can call it a “collector’s edition” and double the newsstand price?

And yes, Sin, Mistress does have a great deal of leeway. She can share me with whomever she chooses. ‘Nilla certainly had that right. Her rights to me can be sold, leased  or assigned. (So far no bidders. Luckily the market for slaves is as slow as the real estate market, and I am probably way over priced and fully depreciated.)

And yes, Mistress has the right to acquire and train other subs, or to submit to a Master or two.

It’s All up to her.

How would I feel about that? It’s hard to anticipate, but Mistress is kind and merciful, as the little dialogue above shows. I am sure that if she ever felt the need to expand her stable, I would still be well taken care of here in the Collins’s household.

All this review, and  the latest episode of Mad Men,  had both of us “animated” by the time we retired to our chambers.

“Why don’t you insert your device, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

In bed, we kissed and canoodled a bit, with Mistress’s hands lingering on my hard and needy cock. Then I asked about her preferences.

“Would you like the Hitachi tonight, Mistress?”

“Hmmm…. I guess it’s been since Thursday.” (her date that morning with M). That might be nice Slave.”

Soon She was on her back, legs spread lasciviously. And I had the tool deployed, set on low, sliding it too and fro at the junction of those muscular, well exercised thighs.

She was very excited. Very. But soon began to complain.

“You’re frustrating me, Slave….. why do you do that?”

“I’m really not trying to Mistress… “

Well, I suppose I was taking a bit of the pressure off from time to time, sliding it off her sweet spot just a bit. I do like to see her squirm. What was the rush?

“No…there…”

Her hand was guiding me…. And I co-operated. Sort of.

“I guess it’s easier when you do it yourself…. When M is on the phone, instructing you where to put it….”

“Ahhh, yes…. It is Slave…. Right there.”

I decided I had made her squirm long enough, so took her cues, pressed firmly. And…

“Oh God ….. yes ….. AHHHHHHHH.”

Mistress hips launched themselves off the bed, she rolled to the right and the left, her thighs gripping the mighty little tool in a tight hug, her whole body coiled around the spot where machine and drippy little mound met.

Then she collapsed back onto the bed, lungs sucking in air through her sobs of relief.

“Fuck me now, Slave.”

Is this where you came in?





Monday, September 27, 2010

Move Along. Nothing to See Here.

Some of you have been lobbying for some abstinence for poor, confused Mistress / Slave Molly.

Well yesterday, inadvertently I suppose. both Slave and Mistress abstained. It’s been a very long time, now that I think of it. A whole day off for both of us.

Our excuse: a very early rise for that 50 mile bike ride. Plus, Mistress’s parts had been excessively used and abused the night before, during and after our long “epic” episode of directed sex ,with M tied in by cell line from across Lake Michigan, acting as the ringmaster.

Come morning, neither one of us could pin down exactly how long we were engaged in those wanton rituals. And when we review the three photos I took at some point – Mistress rubbing her (still!) needy cunt after I left the bed oh so briefly for a piss and hydration – we were so “shocked, shocked” that they ended up as cyber trash. They were too smutty and revealing to even share with M.

At least that’s what Mistress thought.

So when she read yesterday morning’s blog, I did not even consider doing my typical morning worship.

Then it was up and out into the chill lakefront air for that 50 mile bike ride with 5000 other early risers. The event organizers surprised us with a route that seemed to find the only rolling hills in the region. After 4.5 hours in the saddle, we felt like we had accomplished our goal, but at a certain price. The price I paid was sore knees. Mistress had a rather itchy and even more tender tush, as I had predicted.

“I’m not sure I will have sex for several days, Slave!”

“I can understand that Mistress….”

Though I suspect things will be better by this evening.

There were some interesting sights along the way.

The photo above shows where Molly might want to start up her own business someday, should she ever get tired of spin-doctoring. ( And yes, there is a little Eastern European in her gene pool, to balance out the Spanish that gives her that amazingly lush and dark skin tone).

What she found particularly appealing about this business opportunity was that the place was already advertising the availability of “subs”. You may recall that my contract does allow her to acquire others and put me on the block at any time. That sort of trade might supplement income from polish sausage and bait.

At one point a female cyclist pumped past us with what might pass for cyclist fetish wear: short, tight black riding shorts, paired with black thigh high cycling “stockings”, allowing her to show about 4 inches of skin between her “stocking” tops and her shorts.

I had to comment.

“Hmmm. Mistress. Check that out. Pretty hot look!”

“Oh really…. I don’t know that I care for my slave making comments suggesting that other women look hot.”

Opps. I tried my best to back and fill.

“Well it wasn’t her per se that caught my eye, Mistress. I never really got a look at her. I’m saying the ‘look’ is hot… I’d like to see you in that outfit.”

“Good try, Slave.”

So, dear readers – is Slave in trouble? Do I deserve a punishment for calling Mistress’s attention to another woman in that way?

Is it proper for a Slave to let another woman – or in this case – her outfit, catch his eye and comment to his Mistress?

Is this a Jimmy Carter “lust in my heart” sort of moment? (Not a guy Id like to be compared to … I was a Teddy supporter back in 1980).

And is it particularly un-slave like, or just natural?

Let us know what you think.

Now it’s time for me to go upstairs to see how Mistress is recovering from all that tush abuse.


Move Along. Nothing to See Here.

Some of you have been lobbying for some abstinence for poor, confused Mistress / Slave Molly.

Well yesterday, inadvertently I suppose. both Slave and Mistress abstained. It’s been a very long time, now that I think of it. A whole day off for both of us.

Our excuse: a very early rise for that 50 mile bike ride. Plus, Mistress’s parts had been excessively used and abused the night before, during and after our long “epic” episode of directed sex ,with M tied in by cell line from across Lake Michigan, acting as the ringmaster.

Come morning, neither one of us could pin down exactly how long we were engaged in those wanton rituals. And when we review the three photos I took at some point – Mistress rubbing her (still!) needy cunt after I left the bed oh so briefly for a piss and hydration – we were so “shocked, shocked” that they ended up as cyber trash. They were too smutty and revealing to even share with M.

At least that’s what Mistress thought.

So when she read yesterday morning’s blog, I did not even consider doing my typical morning worship.

Then it was up and out into the chill lakefront air for that 50 mile bike ride with 5000 other early risers. The event organizers surprised us with a route that seemed to find the only rolling hills in the region. After 4.5 hours in the saddle, we felt like we had accomplished our goal, but at a certain price. The price I paid was sore knees. Mistress had a rather itchy and even more tender tush, as I had predicted.

“I’m not sure I will have sex for several days, Slave!”

“I can understand that Mistress….”

Though I suspect things will be better by this evening.

There were some interesting sights along the way.

The photo above shows where Molly might want to start up her own business someday, should she ever get tired of spin-doctoring. ( And yes, there is a little Eastern European in her gene pool, to balance out the Spanish that gives her that amazingly lush and dark skin tone).

What she found particularly appealing about this business opportunity was that the place was already advertising the availability of “subs”. You may recall that my contract does allow her to acquire others and put me on the block at any time. That sort of trade might supplement income from polish sausage and bait.

At one point a female cyclist pumped past us with what might pass for cyclist fetish wear: short, tight black riding shorts, paired with black thigh high cycling “stockings”, allowing her to show about 4 inches of skin between her “stocking” tops and her shorts.

I had to comment.

“Hmmm. Mistress. Check that out. Pretty hot look!”

“Oh really…. I don’t know that I care for my slave making comments suggesting that other women look hot.”

Opps. I tried my best to back and fill.

“Well it wasn’t her per se that caught my eye, Mistress. I never really got a look at her. I’m saying the ‘look’ is hot… I’d like to see you in that outfit.”

“Good try, Slave.”

So, dear readers – is Slave in trouble? Do I deserve a punishment for calling Mistress’s attention to another woman in that way?

Is it proper for a Slave to let another woman – or in this case – her outfit, catch his eye and comment to his Mistress?

Is this a Jimmy Carter “lust in my heart” sort of moment? (Not a guy Id like to be compared to … I was a Teddy supporter back in 1980).

And is it particularly un-slave like, or just natural?

Let us know what you think.

Now it’s time for me to go upstairs to see how Mistress is recovering from all that tush abuse.