Cage Week

I woke up this morning to see WC’s comment left rather late our time, not so late in his time zone, commenting on the picture yesterday of Mistress’s lovely bottom.  A “New favorite pic” for the WC.

And we are certainly glad to please him and Mistress’s other fans out there. I suspect Mistress will be flattered when she sees that comment, and likely go back and look at the picture again, to get a better appreciation of what her “personal trainer” finds so alluring.

Mistress does enjoy knowing that her body can still turn heads and draw eyes of appreciation and lust.

In our vanilla life, Mistress posts lots of less explicit family pictures on facebook, and we do have a few select friends from the blog world who have linked up with us in facebook land. Over the weekend, the WC finally embarked into that corner of our lives, and opened up a rather Spartan facebook page so he could “friend” Mistress. Slave too.

“Wonder why M finally decided to find us on Facebook, Slave?”

“Hmmm…. Maybe so he could check out E …. The guy who still wants to put you over his knee, Mistress?”

Sure enough. That was one of the first of Mistress’s friends that M scoped out.

Gotta’ know the ‘competition’. And Mistress was also scoping out M’s only other friend at the time, a woman that she has discussed with M – a long lost fuck and ski buddy who no doubt would like to get a reunion with the special occasion cock.

Sounds as if these comparisons made for some amusing discussions between M and Mistress over the weekend. 

Competition, or the perception of it, is good, isn’t it?  Keeps the juices flowing.

Here in River City, we had one of those rare three  day weekends, when the agenda was rather empty. No effort to fit in some trip to another town, or too many family gatherings. Yesterday was the bonus day, with lots of time in bed, and some minimal yard work for me to do.

We both slept in a little later than normal. I woke to write the blog, then came upstairs at around 8:30 to present it to Mistress.  She took her time reading as I grazed below. It was a long entry, and then she cruised through some of your other blogs. She made sure that I made up for all that tease and denial before she allowed me to take my own pleasure, with permission of course.

Then it was a long, double cycle bike ride that worked up a sweat in the early summer humidity.

We have a graduation party coming up here in about 2 weeks, and Mistress had some directions for me.

“Slave could you trim the bushes in the front of the house…. They’re looking a little wild, and we do have company coming….”

“absolutely, Mistress….”

“I mean if I have to keep my cunt clean shaven, you can at least keep the landscaping under control….”

“I see your point, Mistress….”

After my yard work, we went to our local pool for a while, but the screaming kids and frumpy house fraus ultimately overpowered us, and we headed home early.

Mistress got a little bonus O in the shower, to make up for the one I had denied her yesterday. And then there was some reading and a nap before feeding the kids.

Very laid back day.

We took a walk after dinner, and reluctantly discussed our schedules for the coming week. To my chagrin, I discovered that it will be one of those weeks when we need to drive separately every day.

“So I guess that means I need to wear the cage every day, Mistress?”

“Sounds like it Slave…. sorry…. But it really is for the best.”

Argh.

I already have that hard steel ring on. And in a few minutes I will go wake Mistress….

At least she gets the benefit of that extra hard cock today, and for the rest of the week too.

Mistress gets a few in under the wire.

Slave is going to skip over Saturday morning sex…. I don’t want to bore you with too many details today, particularly since Mistress needs to be woken a little earlier than normal to give us proper time to impose the WC’s sentence – 10 rounds of teasing without orgasm -before our vanilla daily schedule kicks in.

So lets pick things up at around 5 pm – after a day of yard work, sunning with the Times (yes, the sun finally came out in River City), and a brisk double loop bike ride in the early summer heat.

Slave was stepping out of the shower…..

“Time to get my equipment out Slave…. you are long overdue for an ass fucking….”

True, it had been awhile. Not since Mistress’s trip to Eastern Europe. That might account for Slave’s occasional lapses into Mr. bossy pants the last few weeks.

“Will do…..”

I gathered up the components of her kit: leather harness; dildo; lube. Then I settled into bed as she took care of a few items.

She’d been texting with the WC… no doubt whining a bit about the “harsh” sentence he had imposed. Mistress does not like teasing and denial, though, you have to admit, darling, its far better than those clothespins… right?

The WC was firm but compassionate.  And no doubt his “sword” of justice will get put to use in his home venue this weekend.

She typed a few more characters, then put down her I-phone.

“I just told M that it’s time to fuck my slave in the ass….”

“I’ll bet he wishes he was on the receiving end, Mistress….”

“I think he might have something else in mind, Slave….”

By now, Mistress had her harness on, the mid-sized dildo in place. She looked very “commanding”, her lovely breasts hanging loose. She coated her tool with some lube and settled into bed next to me….she likes to fondle and kiss a while, making sure my work-a-day cock is already randy even before she begins her assault.

When she was satisfied, and a little randy herself, she rose up.

“Get in position, Slave….”

I did, fitting a pillow under my hips, raising my ass just a bit….then Mistress took over.

Though a few weeks had passed, Mistress’s aim was on the mark. She filled me with her first smooth thrust of her hips. The penetration had Slave quickly into his own little sub-space.

And despite the long bike ride, Mistress seemed particularly energized yesterday afternoon. Her thrusts were firm, swift, and rather effective….It wasn’t long before she was spasming against me, with a rather dramatic, moaning  climax from her exertions.

By now my ass was getting a little tender, and I let it be known that she should feel free to stop at her convenience. (I have a feeling I may hear about that later). She seemed spent herself, so told me to go insert my device and then return to the bed to fuck her properly.

“Of course, Mistress….”

Slave’s attitude properly adjusted, I found my aneros, and used it to replace Mistress’s own “cock”, before returning to the bed to take my own pleasure.

The ultimate result, I must say was impressive….one of those cums that came in a series of waves that seemed to last forever….

It appears that Mistress and Slave do have their rhythm back.

We rested a bit, then ended up watching a movie here… the Pianist, the Polanski film set in Warsaw during WW II. Mistress pointed out sights she had visited only weeks ago.

When we retired to our chambers, I expected we’d be reading a bit before shut-eye. And that’s how things started. But after about 20 minutes or so, Slave had one unexpected request.

“Slave…. I think I may need my Hitachi tonight…”

“Worried that it might be awhile before your next cum, Mistress?”

I was teasing of course. Earlier I had suggested we might want to get a head start on tease and denial, but she was having none of it.

“It’s not Sunday yet, Slave.”

And I knew it would be so very wrong to argue with Mistress.

So I reached under the bed for her trusty Hitachi. Soon she was laying back, that tie-dye nightie pooled at her belly button, as I guided the churning white bulb between those firm thighs.

That sucker does have a rather profound effect, reducing Mistress to a panting, moaning, vibrating little slut in no time.

Of course, she had a rather profound orgasm, in just a few minutes time. And she offered to return the favor.

I demurred. I figured it best to save my energy and juices for this morning’s execution of the WC’s sentence.

A Comment from Ireland and a Dispatch from our Science Correspondent from the Road

Mistress and Slave did not have nearly enough “intimate” time together yesterday in River City. I had to be up and out the door by 6 am for an all day engagement in our state’s flat as a pancake capitol. So I had to leave Mistress behind, snoozing in bed, as I crept out toe door, sans our normal “wake-up” sex.

I know that will have many of you groaning in commiseration.

By the time I got home at 7 pm, the sullen teens were demanding to be taken out to dinner. And by the time that was over, well, Slave was bone tired. I did make sure to fulfill my obligations to Mistress by giving her a long slow worship as she lounged in bed, that new nightie hiked up to her waist as my tongue and lips bobbed and weaved through her clean shaven folds.

Her nectar is rather addictive, so I needed a fix, even if my work-a-day cock was a little too fried for proper service. (Actually it was my brain that was fried, the two need to work together, at least at this stage of an aging pampered Slave’s life). And Mistress seemed to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

We both seemed to sleep very well after that little activity was concluded with Mistress moaning her satisfaction, hips rising to meet my mouth in her final throes of ecstasy.

One thing that thrilled me yesterday as I sat in my long meeting, in  a lull in the action, was seeing an anonymous comment that seemed to come from the Emerald Isle, in response to my posting about our President tipping a pint with some long lost relatives there earlier in the week. If you haven’t seen the video, check it out here: Barack and his Guiness.

This gentleman (I’m assuming that, I guess), noted that his grandfather had fought along side my adopted namesake, Michael Collins, during the 1917 era uprising against British colonial rule, then had been at cross purposes with him during the sad Civil War that followed between the purer “Republicans” and those who were willing to settle for political independence for the southern counties. I felt that a little bit of history was connecting us through this crazy blog. Thanks for the comment, sir! Let’s both lift a pint in memory of your grandfather and his heroism this weekend, which celebrates Memorial Day here in the states.

Now before I am off to break my sad 24 hour abstinence with my lovely, Mistress, I’m happy to share this dispatch from our Senior (and more recently Science) Correspondent Donna, wrapping up some persona leave in her home state of Florida. We’ve missed her, and yes, with this dispatch in the bank, you can consider your leave ended on Thursday, Donna. I will make sure our payroll department is clued in!

As my time in Florida grows to a close, I am so damn anxious to get home to my Dom, my home, and my mountains. While the medical care has been unbelievably positive and amazing, I am in need, real need, of my Bill. I am not vanilla, I am not happy in the vanilla world, and I am only complete, whole and balanced when living my BDSM lifestyle. I find that everything for me is interpreted through that lens.

As I waited in line for my herbal brew this morning, I noticed a newspaper opened to a page with an illustration of muscles. Odd. I looked closer, and right off the bat, in bold capital letters in the first paragraph, I saw the word DOMS! Yes, my heart did a dance of joy. If I can’t be with my Dom right now, at least I can live vicariously through someone else. 

Being so very impressed that this particular newspaper would be open-minded enough to include an article on Doms, I snatched that section of the newspaper and started to read, Sadly, I was wrong. It turns out this article is about DOMS as related to sports medicine, an acronym for Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness.

As I sipped the truly difficult to swallow brew of tree bark, herbs and who knows what else that is called tea here, I tried hard to hold onto my positive thoughts and reconsidered what I had just read. I thought about the fact that all subs have been in situations where they were so into what was happening to their pussy, boobs, cock or balls that they didn’t pay attention to how far they were being pulled, filled or stretched or how hard they were being pinched, tugged or bitten and they experienced muscle soreness the following day. There just might be information that would be useful in this article, and it just might be that the person who came up with the acronym DOMS is into the lifestyle and thought this was funny; I know that would be something my Dom would do.

As I continued to read, certain phrases stood up…I mean out. As I scanned the article I saw the phrase “post-workout euphoria can leave you feeling pumped to conquer the world.” Oh, I certainly agree with that, and when my Dom is pumped, or I am pumping him, euphoria is sure to follow.

Then I read “eccentric muscle contraction when the muscle lengthens as it contracts.” And clearly, at that point I could see that this article was for our world. As I play with Bill using some rubbing, a little nibbling and bit of sucking, (he likes a whole lot of sucking) he lengthens and after a while contractions and shudders start. It’s all there!

“Next day soreness is a good thing, forcing the muscles to adapt so next time there is less damage, less soreness and less recovery time – basically you are stronger.” Now that’s what I’m talking about! Our Doms and this lifestyle make us stronger, healthier, able to leap tall buildings…well that may be a bit over the top. Haha, leap buildings-over the top. Yep, it’s a for sure thing that I need more caffeine.

So what is the upshot (I love that word) of the article? It tells the reader to work up and cool down (we call that foreplay and after care in our world), to incorporate massage and a warm bath into the routine (oh, yeah), to vary the pace, fast and slow, hard and easy (oh my, yes!) and participate in activities frequently and regularly to avoid muscle stiffness (preaching to the choir, man).

What an enlightening and timely article considering that I will be back home in the arms of my very own Dom on Saturday. I will be sure to put all this information to good use, and maybe I’ll even write a little note to the author and let him know how his article applies so well to the BDSM world. Won’t he be surprised, or maybe not?

Hugs to all,
Donna

P.S. - I will fly home on Saturday. I have just one more medical appointment tomorrow afternoon and then head for the airport early Saturday morning. Should you hear that for some odd reason planes are not flying out of Orlando on Saturday, you can bet the farm that I'll be hitchhiking. One way or another, I'm getting out of Florida and heading home.

While it is working better this evening, I have only been able to access the internet for a few minutes now and then since I arrived. I am looking forward to catching up on this week's UCTMW blogs when I get home. But first, I have some significant

sexual catching up to do with Bill, and I am anxiously looking forward to that!

Great to hear from you Donna. I am sure Bill will like to see this new found knowledge put to use. Safe travels!

HNT / Mistress's New Nightie

Walking through Capitol Hill's  Eastern Market on Sunday with sullen teen #2,  we found dozens of local artisans and craftsfolk selling their wares. There was furniture. prints, jewelry paintings, and lots of hand made clothing items.

What caught my eye was an older lady who had tie-dyed a variety of vintage slips, tops and bottoms. Now you may have noticed from some of our occasional photos that Mistress is a big tie-dye fan. She has a variety of colorful dresses and tops. But a tie-dye slips, now that was something new.... I couldn't resist, though the sullen ten just rolled her eyes in disgust as I ran throught eh colorful options.

I think Mistress was happy with her little gift when we got home Sunday evening.... and she's worn it every night since.  the texture is smooth and sexy, and makes her all the more cuddly in bed.

Now I wish I had bought several!  What do you think?

A Voice from the Past

Mistress had her quota of orgasms yesterday morning in our bed, after reading our blog. But there she was perched on a chair in my office at around 10:10 am yesterday.

She had an early meeting nearby, and, well, “there’s no point in missing the opportunity, Slave….”

Slave was more than happy to accommodate, shifting the chair against the wall, letting her sit on that absorbent maroon blanket, and getting to work. I made sure to take a photo, in case you wanted to catch up on Mistress’s shoe selection, or the latest nail polish color. And the side benefit through the day was the faint aroma of her juices that coated my cheeks and lips.

Soon Mistress was strolling back to her office, and I was buried in preparation for a long meeting later this week when my cell phone rang.

“Slave…. on the way back I got a call from E… “

Strange. A voice from the past.

E was Mistress’s former college lover.

Well maybe “lover” is too grand a word for it: their sexual organs found one another in the same location two or three times after some late night partying, according to foggy legend. But what is important here is that the surprising mutual hotness of the whole “cuckold” thing between Mistress and Slave was discovered when Molly and E had a little cyber and phone flirtation back in the fall of 2009.

And all that led to the creation of this blog.

So E has taken on a key supporting character in the “Secret Origins” of UCTMW, though more as villain than hero. Here is an entry from our early days, referring to E.

However, he also was quickly land justifiably labeled a “cad” here when he unceremoniously and without explanation backed off, after amply priming Mistress’s pump.

Since then Mistress has moved on…. So this call was….

“strange, Slave… he said he wanted to explain himself… and what had happened.”

“And did you let him, Mistress….”

“I said I thought he had some explaining to do…. That after all that hype I felt rather used….”

“And for good reason, Mistress….”

We talked about it in more detail on our drive home.

“He had a story about how things with him and his wife were not where he thought they were then, so when he shared what was going on, she freaked out…”

(In fact, Mistress actually talked to the wife, at E’s encouragement…. “she was cool with it,” he said then. But…. Not so much.)

“I told him that I felt used, that he was using me to get back at his wife for her own little ‘adventures’….”

“And how did he respond?”

“He said that he could see that…. But now things are different….”

“Of course they are, Mistress….”

“Right…. Now they are “swingers”…. Supposedly they had sex with some other couple in Vegas recently….”

“Were you supposed to be impressed?”

“I told him that’s not what we do…. That my husband is not allowed to do that sort of thing…. While I have permission to do what I want, when I want….”

“That’s true, Mistress….”

“He did have a funny thing to say about you, Slave…”

“And what was that….”

“He says you were the visionary … that you had it all figured out before the rest of us….”

I laughed.

“I agreed… I said my husband is a visionary in many things….”

“I just like to make you happy, Mistress….”

By now we were almost home. Mistress had her legs up on the dash, and my free hand was roaming her supple thighs. I was planning some worship before our bike ride once we got home.

“Well…. it seemed clear that he was trying to figure a way to get things started again, Slave… and I made clear that I had moved on… that I had my hands full these days….”

“Good for you, Mistress…. but of course that is up to you.”

“That it is, Slave… but not much later he sent me a text. Something about still wanting to have my bottom over his knee and give me a good spanking….”

“In his dreams, Mistress….”

“Exactly, Slave.”

A Toast to the Emerald Isle and a Missing Apostrophe

As you might imagine, it’s no accident that the protagonists of this meandering adventure story have taken on the name of a famous Irish clan, and particularly one Mick Collins, courageous Irish freedom fighter of the 1917 uprising and thereafter. (Though the royalists no doubt thought of him as a terrorist back in his day).

Molly and Mick have been to that fair isle on several occasions, by ourselves and with girls in tow. It’s a lovely place to visit and reconnect to a shared past, though the weather can leave you a little sodden.

So yesterday, after we enjoyed our lusty morning “connection” here at the World Headquarters, we turned on the TV to the sight of our beloved (at least in this household) President, making his own homecoming, to that Island, connecting to the more remote but still meaningful roots connected to his Mother’s side of the family.

Of course, the glory of it all was that the Irish people, particularly in the small town that spruced itself up for his visit, were more than happy to overlook the complexion of our President’s skin, and accept the word of the genealogists who had uncovered the connection to a great grand grandfather. There was even a song about it, that came out during the 2008 campaign. Here's the  link to "There's No One as Irish as Barack O'Bama."

Apparently there has been no equivalent of the Donald, demanding to see the documentary proof, and wondering if it had been photo-shopped.

When Mistress and I returned home from work, we planned a bike ride, but first, of course, there was some worship. Actually the second of the day, since Mistress had joined me for lunch, and her clean shaven folds had been a lovely appetizer for me.

Mistress laid back on the bed, munching a juicy plum, while I did my own munching, taking her over the top once, then, after a little rest and conversation, me resting my head against those lovely thighs, I enjoyed a second helping. Her bucking hips and muffled sighs suggested she enjoyed my hearty appetite as well.

After the juices settled, we both reached into our respective dressers to dig out T-shirts for our ride. As it turned out, we had both focused on the theme of the day. Our grumbling Sullen teen #1 was drafted to take this photo to share with you:

I just wish I had been there in that tiny town, to tip a pint with our latest Irish-American President.

82 hours, 36 minutes.....

Yes, I know, I am a pampered house Slave.... but for me that may have been the longest wait from one cum to the next since the days back in the Dubya era when Slave was commuting back and forth from River City to Orlando.

 ( I am sure Tammy at All Mine and Sissy at Ms. Marie routinely have their needs deferred much longer than 82 hours and 36 minutes..., so my whining is probably a little pathetic. )

So by the time I got home with the sullen teen last night from our trip to DC .... around 8:30 pm post rapture eastern daylight savings time, Slave was more than a little anxious to bid teens good night and drop to my knees for some worship.

It was lovely to savor the taste and texture I had missed for so many days.

"Can you tell I went for a brisk walk, and baked in the sun a today, Slave?"

I think all that escaped my lips, so busy were they, was something like

"Ummmyummmmm."

Plans to do a little evening Switch Time were quickly shelved for some more conventional love making once my worship was completed.

And Mistress added to Slave's desperation when she instructed me to insert my "device", the little white aneros.

"I know you've been traveling Slave, so let's make sure my cock is extra hard for me."

"I don't think that will be a problem, Mistress."

And of course it wasn't. 

But Slave slept late this morning, so I am going to leave the rest to your imagination, in order to  make sure I get a second helping before it's off to work this Monday morning.

Mistress Plays By Her Own Rules

As I was getting dressed this morning for a day on the town here in DC with my sullen teen and her older sister, I checked in with Mistress.

She said she planned a bike ride, then some sunning with our other teen. But first she was going to treat herself to an orgasm. (Come to think of it, she didn't give me a quantity).

"Are you going to use the hitachi, Mistress?"

"Of course, Slave...."

Soone she was texting me taunting photos of the hitachi, as well as her "clean shaven folds".

But she made it clear that this indulgence was for her alone.

"You can wait until you get back tonight, Slave.... just a few more hours."

So I refrained, continuing to follow my "no touching" protocol. Though I did see this photo that reminded me what Mistress was up to back in the comfort of our bed.

AS you can imagine, the sullen teen thought ti was really embarassaing that I stopped to take this picture

Missing Mistress

Slave is still here in DC today. So the news on the sex at UCTMW is pretty bleak. No touching has been the rules, though Mistress was kind enough to spare me the cage.

Ans last night, when it became clear that neither one of us had been "called" to some other loftier state, Mistress texted a warning / promise:

"You are past due for that ass fucking Slave...."


I couldn't agree more. and our readers are due some choice tid-bits as well.

Mistress did get a bit of a reprieve though. A three am "booty call" from the WC, apparently made from his basement very early Saturday morning.

There are few things that would make Mistress happy about a call in the middle of the night. But I suspect hearing M telling her to deploy her power tool and make it dance on her cunt at his command was one of them.

Yesterday, when we had a chance for some brief private conversation, I got a few questions in:

"So did M get off too, Mistress?"

"He seemed to Slave.... he said he was calling from the basement so as not to disturb his family."

Apparently M's infamous brother, the one with the ass seeking fingers is in town visiting, leaving M pretty busy with golf this weekend. I do worry about those cocktail waitresses at the 19th hole. They may have a surprise in store.

Fortunately, Slave's brief adventure in chastity will end this evening. I'm looking forward to an early bedtime with Mistress. I miss her soft skin, delicious taste and fragrant folds.

And I'm wondering if she remembers it will still be  switch day when I get home?

Another Lamestream Sex Blog

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From Your On the Road Correspondents

Well, we’re at it again …. Separated for a few days, just as we were getting back into our normal groove in River City. Slave is in DC with sullen teen #2, making a college visit and spending time with other family members. Meanwhile, Mistress is at home with Sullen Teen #1. We will both get some solo bonding time with the girls who will soon be emptying our nest, but will be missing one another too.

This morning, I had an early meeting in a town to the north, but at least we got in some robust wake up sex which will have to tide me over until Sunday night.

But then Mistress already has a leg up on me on the O count. After the two she had this morning, complements of her Slave, she had a date with her “personal trainer” our WC, who no doubt had her deploying the Hitachi to tone certain hard to reach muscles.

When I was done with my meeting, I checked in with her.

“How was M, Mistress?”

“He was fine, Slave….”

She gives me that coy, sultry voice to rub it in a little deeper.

“And how many were you allowed this morning?”

“Just four, Slave….”

Oh, poor dear.

No doubt M had at least one of his own to go with her four. Let's hope he did not let that medicinal sperm go to waste.  Donna, has there been any research on how best to preserve it without losing its anti-depressant kick?

And I suspect Mistress too advantage of her private time with M to do a little ex parte communicating with “His Honor”, in hopes of mitigating the sentence he is do to impose for her misbehavior last Sunday.

I am a little concerned that the WC could end up succumbing to her importuning if he lets these deliberations run on too long.

It turns out that Donna, our Senior and Science Correspondent is also going away this weekend, but not to her heavenly reward, sans clothing. She’s headed to Florida for a few days, and has sent this dispatch on how Bill, our Director of Security International is considering how to handle her remotely in her absence.

                                                       Assistance Requested.

The other day Mick and I were talking on the phone about some blog things and then, what with Molly’s recent return from her trip abroad and the coin toss/clothespin/orgasm situation fresh in his mind, Mick asked about activities and requirements Bill is planning for my week away. I chuckled and said I hadn’t heard of any requirements. From behind me there came a deep male laugh followed by the word, “Yet!”

Oops.

With that, Bill opened a spiral notebook, flipped through the pages for a moment and then held up a page that had DONNA written in big letters across the top. It seems that Bill had indeed been making plans. Yesterday, after housing arrangements firmed up, we sat down together to go over Bill’s requirements and immediately began to run into some roadblocks. 

Let me explain, please.

See the picture of my chastity belt here? 

The problem is the chains. First, I checked the TSA website and it would seem that the chains mean that this isn’t an approved garment for wearing on airplanes. It has something to do with the metal and the need to take it off during security screenings and since Bill isn’t going and he would have the key...well,  I can accept that this would be inconvenient for the security people, and goodness knows I don’t want to be responsible for slowing down their already slow lines, so that was the first glitch.

 We talked about waiting until I arrived at my destination, putting on the chastity belt and mailing the key home to Bill, but an additional difficulty with the chastity belt is that I will be splitting my time between a medical facility, not likely to be wild about my belt, and the home of relatives. These relatives rescue dogs, many dogs. 

The dogs and puppies have free range of the  house and the sound of chain rattling means they are about to be leashed to go outside to go potty. Some of the little terrier dogs get so excited when they hear that sound that they let their bladders get ahead of the situation, if you know what I mean.  I wouldn’t want that to happen every time I move. Really. I wouldn’t.

Bill was thinking about sending the Hitachi since my suitcase will have to travel in the hold anyway, but as he thought more about the situation and considered the noise it makes, as well as the noise I make as I use the Hitachi, he decided this could be a problem in a home with such thin walls, especially considering the birds. 

This might be the time to share that these big hearted relatives also rescue birds, cockatiels, sun conures and parrots. They are gorgeous birds and there are cages all throughout the house. Yes, you sharp cookies, you guessed it, I’m going to be rooming with the parrots. I have visions of sitting at breakfast and listening to the parrots mimicking the sound of the motor of the Hitachi interspersed with cries of Oh, Ah, and Um followed by a hearty, Oh, shit!  

Ever creative, Bill’s next thought was to send a gag and my industrial strength pocket rocket, which the birds might sleep through, but on second consideration, probably not the dogs. Although, if I could arrange to howl at exactly the same moment as the dogs, I thought that might have a chance of working. But the walls really are thin and while I am certain our relatives understand that I have a sexual nature, I don’t really think they want to be aware, on any level,  that I am taking care of my needs in the room next door, even if it is Masturbation Month.

Of course, the perfect answer might be a very quiet remote controlled egg with Bill in charge of the remote, but the chances of that working over hundreds of miles is really remote.

Hahaha. Get it? Remote?

Okay, I need more coffee! In any case, Bill asked that I appeal to you for suggestions that take into account the dogs, birds, shared bathroom and paper thin walls. How about it guys? And, please, be gentle with me.  Hahaha, or not!

Your soon to be on the road correspondent,

Donna

HNT / Text Message from Mistress

It was around 8:55 am yesterday. I was already deep into one of those tedious too-early in the morning breakfasts for a local charity. The “spread” consisted of cold bagels, lukewarm coffee, and a few flaccid pieces of fruit. The speakers had droned on for nearly 50 minutes, eliminating the only real enjoyment in these things… chatting with folks you had not seen in a while.

Would we have been there if we didn’t already know it was a good cause? Apparently, the droning speakers thought we needed to be persuaded. Either that or they just enjoyed hearing themselves blabber on. About 80% of the guests in the room seemed to be scanning their blackberries or I-phones for emails or twitter updates.

That’s when my own phone vibrated.

Ahhh, a text from Mistress, who was likely getting ready to enter her first meeting of the day – a pitch for a hot new prospective client.

“That was a very hard cock today, Slave….”

Jolt.

Since my cage was firmly in place, her message gave me a little twitch, that seemed to make things all the tighter in there. Nothing like having to sit through a boring hour long breakfast with colleagues, trying to minimize the squirming in your chair because of the tight steel cage your Mistress locked on before you headed out the door.

Standing up, stretching, walking around makes the cage quite bearable. But extended sitting …. It just gets tight and irritating.

And one reason why my cock was so hard for her earlier was that I had already fitted the tight steel ring around my balls, then crammed my cock through the remaining “space”. Not a very comfortable enterprise at all. But once the ring is in place, and the taste and scent of Mistress’s pleasing parts get to me with a little wake up worship…. Well that cock becomes “very hard”, as Mistress had just reminded me. It always seems to lead to compliments.

It would be a long day in that cage.

Fortunately, Mistress had the key in hand before dinner time, and was generous enough to unlock me, once I had worshipped her in the fashion to which she had become accustomed.

(Hope you enjoy these little photos of Mistress, taken during that bath I wrote about yesterday.)

Science Wednesday

We’ve had a very strange weather pattern here in River City these last few days. The best I can describe it as is Irish Weather. Gloomy. Rainy. Colder than normal for these parts. Last week we were in the 80’s here. This week, the temperature range has been from 45 to about 55.  Just plain yuck.

Mistress had planned for us to go on a bike ride after work yesterday afternoon, but the damp, cold and gloom had gotten to her. So when she strode into my building lobby, ready to head home at around 5:30 or so last evening, she had other plans.

“Slave, I told M that I am going to take a hot bath when we get home. You will serve me a glass of Tequilla in the tub. And we will take a picture to send him.”

“Sounds like a plan, Mistress.”

I wasn’t too thrilled about a damp, bone chilling bike ride myself.

So there we were, back at home. Mistress was quick to shed her short black dress (no tights or pants again today, she’s trying to pretend it’s actually summer despite the weather), and begin running her bath.

I had my orders: I poured her a tequila on ice. For me, some Jamieson neat to cut the chill.

The sullen teens were barely noticing this change of plans. Though one of them commented on the beverages in her wise ass way.

“Isn’t it a little early for that?”

She gave me a look like I was Don Draper, pouring my 5^th martini of the day, just after lunch time.

“Your Mother had a busy day, and now needs to chill…..”

Nothing like judgmental teens.

By now Mistress was settled into her tub, bubbles oozing around her.

“Get my camera, Slave….I promised M a picture.”

I dutifully retrieved her I-phone, and gave her some staging directions as she wriggled into the warm frothy tub. I snapped some for M, and then a few on my own camera for her inspection later, and maybe to share with you should they meet her very high standards.

After that, she climbed from her tub, wrapped herself in a towel and we retreated to our bed, for a little pre-diner R & R.

“Let me know when you are ready for worship, Mistress….”

“In a few, Slave….”

She studied a few of the shots I had taken, then texted one photo off to M, who responded in a few moments.

“’ Sexy Lady’, he says, Slave.”

“He’s right about that, Mistress.”

She reviewed all of your comments, made one of her own, then indicated the time had come to be pleasured.

I leaned over her, my mouth dipping into her warm and freshly scrubbed folds, but she had something else in mind.

“You get a much better angle on your knees, Slave.”

Of course, Mistress is always right.

One thing about our Senior Correspondent Donna, (unlike some of our other correspondents, I might add) is that she takes the initiative to find interesting stories to share with our curious readers. Take for example, this bit of science on the value of a substance that some of us may take for granted, which follows some of her observations about why Mistress’s lovely nipples were so challenged by the clothespins in that “on all fours” position on Sunday.

I tried to word my comments about our CEO and the clothespins carefully, hoping to avoid offending any of our small breasted readers, but really, you can tell from the lovely photo that there is significant pressure being exerted by Molly's breast tissue. If it doesn't hurt more when in that position rather than others, then either there isn't much breast tissue to add pressure or there is a surplus of silicone blocking nerve endings. Being a non-siliconed D cup, I can vouch for that!

The study I have added below is actually from 2002, but didn't get much press at the time. My guess is that it would have cut down on sales of both Prozac and condoms. I am quite disappointed that oral consumption of semen and anal sex were not included as part of this study. Talk about incomplete. Maybe we can round out the study within our little group. I think we could get volunteers, don't you? Except for the control group...none of our friends would want to be in the no sex group! Oh well, another good idea down the drain
(following is a quote from the story with a link below)

Semen is a great antidepressant
 

Semen carries with it more than just sperm; it’s a whole cocktail of substances, out of which some have the potential to alleviate depression in women – estrogen, prostaglandins and oxytocin. The first two were already known to somewhat lower depression, but oxytocin is way more powerful; it shows up at birth or during breastfeeding, making women more happy, less in pain, and way more likely to bond with others.

The study confirmed that the semen is genetically built to work in man’s favour – thanks to those hormones, the female has a stronger bond with him, feels more satisfied, and is way less depressed; thus, the male has already increased the chances of another “bonding”, thus also increasing the chances to reproduce, which is what your body wants, basically.

Interestingly enough, the research also concluded that in terms of depression, there is pretty much no difference between condom users and abstrainers, so the act of sex itself does no good against depression. Even though, of course, safe sex is always recommended, from this point of view, it is recommended to have sex without a condom. Go figure…

http://www.zmescience.com/research/studies/semen-antidepressant-16052-11/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:zmescienceZMEScience&utm_content=GoogleReader

Does Semen Have Antidepressant Properties?

Gordon G. Jr. Gallup, Rebecca L. Burch and Steven M. Platek

http://www.springerlink.com/content/wrkl9lc5ueu43rh8

Of course, this got us thinking about Tammy, over at ALL Mine. Suzanne’s “wife” has been getting some extra semen dosages from clean up and other duties of late. Suzanne, can you tell if it is having apositive mood enhancement effect?

"She looks so good he gets down and begs."

Well I wasn’t exactly begging when Mistress strolled into my office last evening, after a long day at work. But I was ready for some worship. And she seemed ready too.

She had a relatively short black dress on, that showed off long and muscular bare legs, and some opened toed shoes that showed off her colorfully painted nails.

Yum.

Mistress had been so busy – going from one meeting to another all day – that she’d not had time to read all of your juicy comments yesterday about her violation of Switch Day protocol and M’s deliberation on her sad fate.

I spread the blanket, pressed the chair up against the door, and let her settle in, taking my time to use by lips and tongue to reduce the stress level that I could tell had built up during the course of the day.

Ultimately she succumbed to my attention, using her fingers to grab my scalp, pressing me home, as her hips lurched up off the chair in the final throws of her orgasm.

We had an evening out planned – first a Sushi dinner, then a concert by one of Slave’s favorite aging rock stars at a local theatre venue.

Over dinner, Mistress finally had a chance to review comments on her I-phone.

“So Donna thinks maybe I suffered from Marzipan withdrawal….”

“It’s possible, Mistress….”

“Oh look, Brooke commented… that’s pretty rare, and she seems to get what the problem was…..”

She seemed particularly amused by M’s comments in his “hanging judge” persona, and decided to dial him up, as we finished off our “bait”, as some folks call it here in the heartland.

“I don’t think you guys understand how much those things hurt in that position, M.”

She was already beginning what no doubt will become a week long appeal for mercy.

And Mistress also asked when they might arrange for a date this week – Slave is going off to DC for the weekend with Sullen Teen #2, so Mistress will have a little more solo time than she is used to. Hopefully she will have a chance to engage in some ex parte lobbying with her “personal trainer” to see if she can get the severity of the sentence reduced to something palatable for her and for those sensitive nipples.

I must confess that I was feeling a little bad after all was said and done. While we have used those clothespins before without intolerable consequences, they clearly hirt more than normal this time. Maybe it was the position, with Mistress, breasts hanging down, and all that blood flowing to the place where the pressure was most severe.


And although I tried to expedite things once it became clear that Mistress seemed to be in more anguish than “normal”, I should have removed the pegs myself rather than force Mistress to use self-help.

I’ve learned my lesson, and won’t do that again.

I suppose we need a “code red” word that would have allowed Mistress to abort the exercise at that point. That way she would not risk getting into trouble for disobedience during her two hour / week switch shift.

And I better watch my own back here, since Slave is probably due some punishment from Mistress for some real or imagined slight that would allow her to take her pound of flesh back.

After we both chatted up M for a bit, it was off to our concert. (The quote in the title is from one. A free UCTMW coffee mug to anyone who can guess the author or song, employees of UCTMW Enterprises or their family members, excluded).

We had primo seats (I’m on the dude’s email list), and it was fun to enjoy the evening with Mistress, away from work and family duties. For some reason I kept getting the musky aroma of sex from her as I leaned into her, muzzling her neck. Was it residue of her juices still clinging to my face. Or did she just exude the pheromones that drive her Slave nuts.

By the time we got home, it was 11 m or so, and we were both beat, so settled for some snuggling and sleep.

“Wake me for sex at 7, Slave….”

Better get moving….

Our Western Correspondent Is Called on for Justice

                UCTMW ENTERPRISES,LLC

INTER-OFFICE MEMO

FROM: MICK COLLINS, EXECUTIVE EDITOR

TO: MIGUEL, WESTERN CORRESPONDENT AND PERSONAL TRAINER TO THE CEO

RE: REQUEST FOR DECLARATORY JUDGMENT.

As alluded to in yesterday’s blog, I need your considered judgment on how to handle a rather shocking breach of protocol here at the World Headquarters yesterday morning.

You are quite familiar with our contract, and its provision at Section II, paragraph 6 that, “On Sunday mornings for at least 2 hours, and at other times upon agreement of the parties, Mistress will submit completely to the Slave, as if she was the Slave and he was the Master/Owner under the terms of this Agreement.”

Yesterday morning I set out to exercise those rights at around 9 am, before a bike ride we had planned. Actually it had been three weeks since a proper switch day, because Mistress had been traveling (I suppose one mistake I had made, in retrospect, was not requiring some sort of Switch exercise on the  Sunday when she was MIA).

Things started out without a hitch. She meekly allowed me to lock the red cuffs on her slender wrists, and I linked them together with a little metal clip. When I expressed frustration that I could not find the bag of cloths pins, she even helpfully suggested that I look in the drawer of the bed side table. Sure enough they were there, and I removed two new ones, rather than use the two that were sitting next to the bag, where she apparently placed them after returning from her overseas voyage.

“Boy that wasn’t  very smart, was it Slave…. I hate those things.”

“Maybe you are subliminally craving them, Mistress. You certainly had them on enough at M’s direction during your trip.”

I had a rather simple scheme to implement.

Mistress would be on her hands and knees on the bed, her lovely, soft breasts hanging down. I would attach the clothes pins to her nipples. Some thrashes with the riding crop on her vulnerable ass, then her reward by way of the Hitachi, all while she presented her ass to me that way.

Then, of course, Slave would take his reward.

I clipped the pegs to her hanging nipples. Then reached for the camera to record the occasion.

That’s when the complaining began.

“That’s horrid Slave…..”

“I can’t stand it…..

“Take them off right away…..”

You get the picture.

Now I knew that she could take it. She’d worn them for me before. And all that furious masturbating with both nipples clipped should have made this all the more tolerable, correct? (Unless she was yanking both of our chains about that, you may want to consider having her make a video the next time).

I was determined not to succumb to the vociferous whining and wheedling, but I was moved by her “agony”. I chose to skip the cropping part and go straight to the Hitachi.

“How about this your royal whiner, they come off with the first orgasm….”

She was still on hands and knees, her legs spread just enough to accommodate the churning bulb at the business end of the Hitachi.

You would  have been impressed by the way her ass was squirming back and forth, as she seemed to quickly hit her stirde and shudder and quake through a rather impressive cum, all the while moaning and gasping with a combination of pleasure and pain.

Then I looked down under her lovely trunk and what did I see?

Somehow, your little slut had reached up with those bound hands while I was concentrating on pleasuring her, and popped off both of the cloths pins.

I was shocked. Very shocked.

“What the…..”

“I’m sorry Slave…. they were just way too painful.”

“I obviously need to secure those wrists much better the next time.”

Fool that I was, I did let her have another orgasm with the Hitachi, before having her roll over to accept my rigid work-a-day cock. At least that went off as anticipated, Mistress moaning through another cum before I took my own pleasure from her.

But afterwards I cross examined her on her little act of civil disobedience.

“So why did you not let me finish you before you took off the pins, Mistress?”

“They just hurt so much Slave….”

She hypothesized that because they were “new” pins, the springs were particularly tight, causing more pain than normal. This makes me winder if she doctored the pins she had taken to Europe, stretching the springs a bit so that they were looser than specifications would require. Sort of like using a corked bat or one of those new “slice-proof” golf balls.

Maybe there is a lab that checks for such sub transgressions?

I made it clear to her that next Sunday there would be consequences for her misbehavior. I know, justice delayed is justice denied. But in this case, maybe making her dread what is ins tore for a few days will force her to consider the error of her ways.

I understand she gave you a little verbal “preview” of what had happened, lobbying for a reprieve. But now that you know all of the sad and pathetic facts of her inability to comply with her contractual obligations, I do look forward to your advice.

Our contract does not have a clear remedy clause. And I am not sure I want to take the matter to a local Equity Judge, who might not have nuanced view of this type of breach.

So we look you for Justice, M. 

I might add that there could be some extenuating circumstances that I have not considered. As an example, could it be that with the clips attached with her nipples hanging down they are more painful than with her lying on her back? Maybe our Senior Correspondent, the sub-sisters or other readers can add their perspective before you render your decision.

We look to you for your judgment on this sad matter.