Mistress Goes to the Gym

Before I get back to our normal kinky sex, leavened with humor, programming on the UCTMW channel this morning, it’s impossible for me not to reference the events in Tucson yesterday.

For those of us who were sentient in 1963 and 1968 (and I know some of you were not around or paying attention then) the bulletins and fractured, conflicting  accounts from the press that we endured yesterday afternoon bring back sad and painful memories. And a good bit of irrational anger.

Molly and I have spent a good deal of time with politicians on the left over the years, and at events of the type horribly disrupted yesterday. And now I have a daughter who is on the staff of a prominent elected official  in DC. And though she was not around in 1963 or 1968, my daughter was sobbing over the phone, when I talked to her about this yesterday, afraid for her friends and colleagues. So it’s hard for us not to think of all this lunacy – the hate, the flying bullets, the chaos, the screams, the death – and wonder what it means for the future.

“How many times….?” Blowing in the Wind

Now, back to our regular programming…..

When it’s cold like it was yesterday here in River City – and I mean pretty danged cold – 18 to 25 degrees most of the day – Mistress likes to work out at a local health club. And her Slave happily joins her on the weekends.

Of course, our Western Correspondent is quite familiar with Mistress’s routines, and yesterday he saw her plans to head to the gym as his first opportunity to deploy the toy he had sent her for Christmas – that little vibrating ball, and it’s remote control.

(I suppose I need to get a photo of the clever little device to display for you here. But it’s a simple if colorful item. The vibrating cylinder at the end of a wire. And a remote control unit that is about three inches long and two inches wide, that has a pretty variable colored light display that changes based on the speed of the vibrations.  Very cute Mistress had instructed me to find and insert the proper batteries, so I had become familiar with the clever device’s operations.)

Here’s how things developed.

I had returned from dropping off my cute grandson after some play time, and we were about to head to the gym, when Mistress told me that M wanted to talk.

“Of course, Mistress….”

I excused myself, grabbed my laptop, and headed downstairs, switching on CNN to monitor the grim news from Tucson. I figured that Mistress was up on the bed, writhing to the tune of M’s seductive voice and the compelling vibrations of her trusty Hitachi. 

But I was surprised when Mistress came downstairs only about 20 minutes later, ready for the gym.

“Did you get to play, Mistress?”

“No Slave…. But I told him I would call from the car…. And I have been instructed to wear my little “present” from him.”

“Ahhhh…..”

Mistress dialed up M on our way, and they conferred about how she would deploy the device.

“I brought some tight work out shorts, M, to keep that thing from sliding down, or out dangling against my leg.   …..  I have to remember to keep the light side turned against my body, so no one can see the flashing lights through my shorts….”

Now that could be a little embarrassing.

Once at the gym, we went to our respective locker rooms to change. The next time I saw Mistress she was mounting one of those elliptical trainer devices. I was about 15 feet away, on a stationary bike. A bank of TV screens were deployed in front of us.  More conflicting updates from Tucson. Football, basketball, etc.

But the real show I wanted to pay attention to was going to come from Mistress. 

On the surface, she seemed pretty much the usual: well conditioned, pumping away at the machine, a damp glow popping out on her forehead and on her strong shapely thighs. She was the aloof but  hot head turner that men glance at furtively as they go about their own business. And there was a man on the machine right next to her, who was probably a bit younger than me, and a bit bulkier too. He seemed to give her a sideways glance from time to time.  No wonder.

I did notice that Mistress had her I-phone propped on the little panel in front of her.  Monitoring text messages from M?  Could be. 

From time to time I could see a little extra strain on Mistress’s sweat streaked face, but it was ….. ambiguous …. hard to read. But she never broke that focused, don’t fuck with me look, as she seemed to monitor the video screens, glancing from time to time at her I-phone.

After her 30  minutes were complete, and I was also in my cool down phase, Mistress slid off the machine, gathered up her phone and came over to me.

“Well, Mistress…..?”

“It was….Interesting, Slave……”

She leaned into my ear….

“It worked, Slave…..”

“You came that way…..”

“Uhhhh….. you could say that….. I will share details later, and maybe give you a taste.”

Naturally, I was anxious for all the sordid details, dutiful reporter that I am. And if there had been a private space about, I would have happily fallen to my knees, slid down her sweaty shorts, and tasted the aftermath of this debauch.  But alas, I would have to wait until after showers and the drive home.

But once home, as we were preparing for our own little session,  I got the details….

“How many times, Mistress…..”

“At least three, Slave…..”

“Wow…..And how did that work….”

“The vibrations, were inside…. But those tight pants, and the motion, they all combined together…..it was …. Pretty hot.”

“Very devious, Mistress….”

“ Of course, M kept texting me, asking for progress reports. And at some point, a picture of his cock popped up on my screen.”

Ahhh…. Some external mental stimulation as well.

“That guy next to you, do you think he saw that picture….”

“I thought of that…. It’s possible Slave…. How embarrassing….”

“So how did you keep going, even after having an orgasm….”

“It was a challenge …. I probably slowed down a bit after each one.”

But around that time, M was also on the phone, and I enjoyed hearing Mistress report these events to him.  No doubt he was as pleased with his little Slave’s obedience as I was impressed.

But there were other things to do, now that Mistress had been so thoroughly stimulated.

“Get out my equipment Slave… it’s time to fuck you in the ass.

“Ohhh…. I didn’t realize….”

She reinforced her orders, and I quickly found the equipment she needed: harness, dildo, lube.

She slid into her harness, made the appropriate adjustments.

“Now, get into position….”

“No warm up cuddles, Mistress…..”

It had been a while and this was happening very fast.  Yikes.

Ohhh…. Is this A little too abrupt for you, Slave…. “

She slid into bed next to me, kissing and fondling for a moment. Then, just as abruptly, climbed from our bed.

“I need to get one thing….”

She strode into our closet, only to emerge with her riding crop.

Wow. Things were getting very Domme-ish at Camp Collins.

“Roll onto your stomach.”

I did, and the blows began to rain down in quick succession.

I was  whiney, herky jerky on the bed…. I was not mentally prepared for punishment, and well …. It stung like hell as she patterned my ass with her crop.

“I think you know what these are for Slave…”

I did, but she was quick to explain anyway. I won’t go into the details now. Just suffice it to say that if given the opportunity to enter a plea, there would have been a number of affirmative defenses, including entrapment….

But in this case, justice was swift, and true and not to be delayed or denied with  legalistic defense.

Once Mistress was done with the crop, she had other intentions for my bottom.

“Now get in position, Slave…..”

I quickly complied, positioning a pillow under my hips. And Mistress went to me that way, sliding her hard plastic “cock” into my ass with a determined thrust. Then pumping away at me, until I was gasping, and she was coming hard with her own moan of conquest and shudders of release.

“I think you liked that Mistress….”

“I did Slave….”

She pulled out of me, tossing her strap-on onto the floor for her Slave to clean later.

“Now why don’t you go put in your device.” (our aneros).

Naturally, I complied, and the clever device had my cock hard and jerking for her in no time. Fortunately, I  soon found myself with permission to fuck Mistress properly. I think I was able to reward her with a few more orgasms before I was begging for permission to come.

Thankfully, she was merciful. I did not have to ask twice.

We went to a movie later, True Grit, which was definitely worth seeing. And on the way home, Mistress asked if my bottom as still sore.

“No Mistress…. It hurt like hell when you were doing it, but that pain goes away fast…. In fact, maybe you will get a taste of it in the morning …. While it’s all still fresh in my mind….”

“ Ahhh…. I Almost forgot about Switch Day, Slave….”

I hadn’t.