24 Hour Embargo

First, I hope none of you are offended by the new “look” here at UCTMW. I got playing with the tools available in google-world and thought I would go for something a tad more readable. The key was  to find colors that complemented all those lovely photos of my Mistress’s hot body.

But the new background does have a strange way of giving the impression this is the home of Marge and Homer, not Molly and Mick. Let us know if it’s a turn-off.

 I suppose that for some of you lurkers our there, the dark look of our previous format may have triggered some sort of Pavlovian response after months of conditioning. If so, be patient, that instant response below the belt buckle, is sure to return after you get re-programmed by the new look.

I already received a thumbs up from our Western Correspondent, though I doubt he’s done his market research yet. He tends to shoot from the cock. (No disrespect intended, oh Master of my Mistress).

I also apologize for breaking our switch day into three blog parts. It seemed like I had lots of material to work with, and I am always mindful of my deadline: If I don’t get my daily entry posted by 7:45 am Eastern time, Slave’s window of opportunity to service my Mistress closes. And if that happens too often, my material could run dry.

So let me bring you up to date on our busy week here in River City…..

Monday on the ride home, Mistress was feeling rather playful. It sounds as if M had done a good job of getting her juices flowing with some snappy conversation and lusty text messaging focused on the prospects of an ultimate rendezvous. It may be that his fears of spontaneous human combustion are subsiding? Or has he arranged to have a local volunteer fire department on call?

And while there are no immediate plans for such an encounter, the opening window seemed to be priming Mistress to an unusual degree. She even snapped the photo above to send to M by text message on our ride home.

Once we got home, Mistress was more than happy to accept my offer of worship.

“But let’s share the moment with M too, Slave.”

I had no standing to object, as she took another shot with her I-Phone camera, of my sadly balding head, between her spread legs, as I was deploying  my well developed skills.

And when I was done, she handed me the camera to take a close up of that swollen red clit, poking out from between her lush, clean shaven lips. I’ll bet M did a double take when that juicy shot popped up on his cell phone.

But my own reward was deferred until later, after a bike ride in our smog infused, late summer air.

Yesterday, Mistress had some news to share with me.

“M and I have arranged for a date on Thursday morning. And this time his instructions are very clear ….. I can’t come for 24 hours before hand.”

I got the news as Mistress stopped by my office for some pre-lunch engagement worship. I considered this development as I knelt before her, helping her slide those tight black panties down her legs.

“Well that clears up any confusion Mistress. I take it he’s reviewed Sin’s blog on the subject of clarity in these matters.”

Last night, as we began to make love, I brought up the subject of her impending orgasm embargo again.

“How does it feel to have your orgasms managed, Mistress?”

“Well I must say it’s against my nature – I’m not used to being told what to do, but…..”

“But what, Mistress?”

“It’s pretty hot Slave….pretty hot….”

I went back over the rules with her….

“So I suppose Wednesday morning is our last chance then?”

“Yes Slave. That’s his order.”

“I’m betting by tomorrow evening you are going to feel a little antsy, Mistress.”

“I suppose….”

“And you won’t mind me teasing you a little, will you?”

The thought of it was starting to drive her a little crazy, That, and my finger strumming her clit.

“Oh, God….”

By now Mistress was retaliating: cupping my balls with her fingers as I fucked her from above. I was closer than my game plan called for at the moment. Considering whether it would be un-cool to ask for permission.

And just then, Mistress decided to turn the tables.

“Slave, I may want to get on top in a bit, so no coming. Just keep on fucking me…..”

She continued to taunt my balls with those well manicured nails.

And, of course, being told to keep fucking, but not come, had me tied in a perverse little knot.

I wanted to come. I wanted to beg. But I knew that Mistress on top would make for a very interesting ride.

But she was in no hurry.

Fuck.

So close.

But following orders, I was trying to think about the Glenn Beck curse on the Cardinals, anything to take the edge off my needy cock.

Finally she had mercy.

“Roll over, Slave.”

Ahhh.

“Of course, Mistress.”

She settled in for quite a few furlongs as she slowly rode me, remarking about how hard my cock was….. That's something a Slave always likes to hear, even though the odds were she might have been imagining riding a certain “special occasion cock” instead.

Whatever turns you on is fair game in my book.

The pressure for a quick release now off me, it was my turn to throw a little rhetorical fuel on the fire.

“Imagine how horny you will be Thursday morning, Mistress. After more than 24 hours without an orgasm.”

“I know Slave….I will be desperate.”

“I will have to test you before I leave. Run my fingers through your cunt in the shower, but not nearly hard enough to risk violating your obligations.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

Mistress was riding me harder now, but still pacing herself. She was building her parts to critical mass inexorably, preparing to go nuclear.

“And I wonder if he will make you beg for permission, Mistress….”

“That's what he did last week Slave….he made me beg.”

Hmmm. Something I had not gotten from her in that Friday night de-briefing.

“Oh really, Mistress….how did that feel.”

“It drove me crazy, Slave….I was so desperate….and it was so frustrating to have to wait.”

“Did you feel like his needy little slut, Mistress?”

It was about that time when the snappy patter gave way to Mistress focusing on that explosion she had been building to. All of her muscles tensing, a slow deep moan building in her lungs and roaring out of her mouth as she collapsed onto me.

By the time she rolled off, her cheeks were wet with her tears, her sobs were subsiding, and her body was limp and exhausted. And I was allowed to complete our rather dramatic session from above.

When she graciously gave me permission to come, my explosion came in a series of waves that had my own body tingling for the next 20 minutes or so.

Yikes.

It was smut-ergy of the highest order.

And since my deadline is now upon us, I’d better get upstairs before Mistress’s 24 hour embargo kicks in.