Heading Back to River City....

Saturday was our last full day here. Slave is up early at our High Desert Hideaway, getting ready for our drive back to the airport and "civilization". It's snowing and blustery, and as I gazed out into the dark field in front of our house I was a tad spooked?

Were those shadows just the chamisa bushes swaying in the wind?  No.... a little more studying made it clear these were beasts, grazing in our yard in the snow.  Too small for Buffalo (and there really aren't wild ones out here).  Maybe Elk? or a neighbor's cows or horses that got loose in the wind storm last night?  Hard to tell in the dark.

Heck, it could be those local Yak, on the lam to escape being stuffed into a tasty lasagna!

Wonder if they will still be there when the sun starts to peek over the mountain?

Speaking of sunrise, it could be a favorite time of the day here. Yesterday, the rising sun blazed through the window of our bedroom, bathing our bed in warm blinding light just as Mistress was riding her cock to a 2nd or 3rd cum.  After we were both spent, I asked her to stay in place so I could take this photo of her lovely sun streaked form.

Later we went back up to the Ski Mountain to get in a few last runs on our fading legs. Nine days in a row have taken a toll, and when the clouds moved in and wind picked up, we decided to beat a retreat back home for some last of the week lazing about.


On our of our last chair lift rides we were joined by a rather rugged, bearded ski patrol dude (no, not the object of Mistress's fantasy). Who was a taciturn sort. I had learned my lesson, and did not ask him if Dave ----- was on the mountain. But as we were riding Mistress played me a little.

"When we get home, I will need my 'supplies'"

Of course, I knew she was referring to her strap-on and its little accessory.

"I understand....", deleting her proper title (as she had mine) in deference to the Ski Patrol dude sitting beside her.

And sure enough, when Mistress and Slave arrived back at our cabin, after we stowed away all the ski paraphernalia for our next journey west, Mistress insisted I assemble the proper equipment for our afternoon diversion. Of course, I followed my orders to the T.

But then she reminded me of something else....

"Get the riding crop, Slave.... don't you still have to pay your obligation to Suzanne over that stupid sports bet?"

No..... wouldn't want to forget that. She had me take my place, and lit into my ass.... though I must admit I got off much lighter than either she or the WC did last week. I guess I've been a good Slave.  But she did take this picture to prove to Suzanne our debt had been satisfied.

"Make sure this gets posted, Slave.."

The Big Tease

Our time away here is winding down.

We have one more day on the slopes, an evening out at a favorite local restaurant and then, in the am, the slog back to River City. There is talk of snow here tonight, so we'll have to decide whether to bail out of here earlier than normal.

Yesterday we had a day of sunny skies, unseasonably warm temperatures, and great snow. (The photo is from the top of a favorite run, accessed by a short hike up off the more eaten path). But we cut our day short a little earlier than normal.... our legs are feeling 8 straigtht days on skis, and the sun on our patio was a little too tempting.

So we came back, stripped away the ski outerwear and read in the sun for a copule of hours before heading to bed for our traditional afternoon "nap". 

On this occasion, the napping part came first.  Mistress slept a little longer than me, but at around 4:30 I was paged to "serve" her.

Of course, those clean shaven folds had been calling my name for a while, and I was happy to dip in, and lavish them with the attention they so richly deserve.

When she was satisfied with the attention of my lips and tongue, she had further directions.

"Go put in your aneros, Slave.... I'm looking forward to a particularly hard cock."

Of course, I always follow orders, and slid back into bed with her with the aneros firmly in place.

She spent a good amount of time teasing her cock with fingers, then her warm full lips. It's a habit she's been into this week, and quite frankly, within a few minutes, Mistress  was driving me crazy.

"Can I fuck you now, Mistress....?"

Mistress came up for air, but only briefly.

"What's the rush Slave.... I'm enjoying this.....aren't you?"

She was back at it now, and Slave continued to squirm.

"Uhhhh..... yeah.... but you're driving me crazy.... why... not.... just... let.... me ....fuck ....you... Mistress...."

"Because it's so cute when you beg Slave....."

Well you can tell where this was going. There was begging.... more begging.... more squirming... more teasing and taunting.....Until finally Mistress decided to show some mercy, detaching those hot lips from Slave's longing cock, rolling over and letting me take her in the traditional way.


Ahhhh..... and it was certainly well worth the wait.

Censored

We've been enjoying the slopes and some amazing sunrises and sunsets here at our Hideaway this week. So excuse us for posting here  a few photos of our views. It's all in the interest of sharing a little aesthetic beauty, and padding the blog a bit as Slave gets a little lazy on this trip. 

This first photo is the sunset here last evening, as seen from our front yard.

There are also some nice sunrises that we can watch from our bed.  Yesterday morning, Mistress and I were in bed, playing with our laptops, Mistress engaging a bit with the local "disc jockey", who was on the radio commenting on all the sunrise photos from various vantage points popping up on his facebook page. He even gave "Molly and Mick" a shout-out for the photos we had posted, and Mistress's snappy facebook patter.

But soon it was time to turn off the radio. Mistress wanted to read the blog - with her Slave worshiping of course. And when my "work" was done, she was particularly fiesty, using those beautiful lips to make sure her cock was at full staff, then riding it to several bone shaking cums. Afterwords, Slave was permitted to finish up on top, begging for permission to cum, of course.

The next picture is the illuminated "Retalbo" on our living room wall, that has been lit by the setting sun each afternoon at this time of year. Now last Saturday, I had held out hope that this "miracle" was a good sign for the Tebows in their upcoming battle against the juggernaut from New England.

Of course, now we know that it was simply a matter of the earth's rotational timing.

But the consequences of our little bet with the folks at All Mine are not yet finished here. Yesterday I teased the WC about the absence of photographic proof of his thwacking by his wife B, which he recounted in excruciating detail for us on these pages.

Yesterday, as we were skiing, both Mistress and I found a text messaged photo from the WC pop up on our cell phones.

Gulp.

Now we walk a fine line here between adult content and the distasteful. If there is such a thing as an R rated sex blog, this is it.

And, sadly, Mistress and I concluded that the photo of the WC's generous, and still bruised, ass fell somewhere across the line we have drawn for ourselves.

So, Suzanne, just take our word for it. The WC paid off his bet.

The WC Pays Off His Gambling Debt

 Here in our Mountain Hideaway the days are moving too fast, and we are already dreading a return to River City on Sunday. We've settled into a nice routine -- morning sex, some reading or work, heading to the ski mountain, then, after a day on those sun drenched slopes, some R & R back here at our cabin, taking in yet another magical sunset. 

Watching the alpenglow engulf the local tribe's sacred mountain in the moments after sunset through our bedroom window, both lying there naked, pressed against one another, is an experience that is too good to put into  written word.

While we were skiing the following dispatch arrived from our Mountain Zone HQ, describing how the WC settled his betting tab with the folks over at All Mine. Sounds as if his "clobber count" was so high that your Managing Editor probably deserves a pass when it comes to paying off this bet, don't you think?

Well Suzanne I got my strapping this morning and you will be happy to know that it hurt like hell!

Here is a little back story about B and I before I tell you guys the ugly details:

We were kinky from the start with me being dominant

I used to spank B all the time and she was my submissive sex toy

We both loved it, and still do

But somewhere along the way she started spanking me as well and she discovered that she liked it (a lot)

So now we are switches I guess, but mostly we just do what ever turns us on at the time

Any way, you should know the B only knows one was to paddle or strap:

LONG AND AS HARD AS SHE CAN!!!!

As expected she was very happy that I lost the bet, even though she was rooting for the Broncos

So this morning when I returned from taking my daughter to school she was sitting in the kitchen grinning like a Cheshire cat

“Do you remember the last time you spanked me?”

  “Yes”, I said

“Do you remember that you stuck an aneros up my ass and wiggled it all around?” 

“Yes”,  I said, seeing where this was going

“Do you remember I said I didn't like it and you said you didn't care?”

  “Uhhh….  Yes, kind of….”, I said

“Do you remember that you spanked me with our leather strap with the wooden handle over your lap?”

 I did.

“Do you remember I said it hurt really bad, and begged you to stop, and you again said you didn't care and that it was supposed to hurt?”

  “Ummmm…. I don't really remember that”,  I said

“Bullshit!”, she said, “go up to the bedroom strip naked and get that strap and your aneros.”

When she arrived she was all business, and told me to get over her lap and she rudely pushed the aneros up my ass and wiggled it around violently for quite some time

She then grabbed the strap and began spanking me just as hard as she could

No warm up, and holy shit it hurt!

I hate to admit it but I was wiggling around a lot and screaming

She must have given me at least 200 strokes

It wasn't quite so bad after the first 100 :)

As she admired her work she seemed quite pleased with her self, pushed me off her lap and retrieved her Hitachi

She told me to suck her nipples and get my cock rock hard while she got her self off a few times with her toy

She informed me in the midst of one of those orgasms that she wanted me to fuck her really hard from behind as soon as she had enough of her beloved Hitachi

Sure enough she soon rolled over and got on her hands and knees with her breasts pressed against the bed

Seeing Her in this submissive position, with her beautiful ass pointed my way roused my dominant urges

I knelt behind her and drove my cock home in one big thrust

“Ouch”,  she screamed… “that really hurts….”

“I don't care”,  I said

The pain soon turned to pleasure and  she was cumming again and again in no time

Of course I couldn't resist a few very hard slaps to her ass as I fucked her:)

Was very Hot!

But I am the WC with a very sore, red and bruised ass!

Of course, WC, the only thing missing here is a photo! If Mistress can share, why can't you. I'm sure B would be happy to accommodate.

Paying Our Obligation

We had another snowy, blustery day here at our local ski mountain. The fresh powder was fun, but the wind and cold had us beating a somewhat earlier retreat from the mountain down to our little cabin, where the sun was shining. The early departure gave us a chance to nap, do a little work, and for Slave to go into town and pick up some provisions.

On the way home, I even had the chance to check in with our Senior Correspondent via phone, and learn that it was Bill's ( our Director of Security) birthday.  Happy Birthday, Bill!

On the drive home, I even stopped to take some photos of our beautiful mountains, with new snow sparkling, and lit by the setting sun. It's those vistas that keep us coming back here.

When I returned home with our supplies I was in for a little treat: Mistress was all decked out in fetching and skimpy blue confection, with matching thong, I had presented to her a few Christmas's ago.

"I figured we had time for a little fun before dinner, Slave...."

In fact, I had the same thing in mind, though I had not expected Mistress to be all decked out for the occasion.

We put away the groceries, and adjourned to our cozy bedroom here, with a view of the mountain, the alpenglow that followed the setting sun just lighting the very top.

"Wouldn't this be a good time to pay your part of the obligation arising from Tim Tebow's fall from grace on Saturday night, Mistress?"

You may recall the bet with our friendly competitors at All Mine. The Pats margin of victory (was it 45-10) far exceeded the 13.5 point spread that Suzanne had suckered the WC into accepting. And we honor our debts here, even when on the Lam.

And there was Molly, all decked out on Patriots Blue!

I affixed the cuffs to her wrists and secured them to our bed.

"Do we really need these, Slave? "

"From personal experience, I know it's easier to take these while you can't squirm away, Mistress."

"How considerate of you...."

I found our resident riding crop and flexed it a bit in my hand.

"So the question is 'how many?' .... I'm thinking the Pats margin of victory, less the point spread...."

I did some mental calculations.....

"That leaves us with 22, Mistress."

"I don't recall anything in that bet that put a number on it Slave!"

Mistress was already squirming in anticipation though.... truth be told, I think she likes this sort of punishment much better than her Slave does.  I mentioned this....

"Maybe it's because I have more padding, Slave...."

Could be. Or maybe she's just a little pain slut, like a few of you out there in the blogworld that we regularly follow.

In any event, she took her medicine well, and I made sure to break up the dosage with occasional forays with probing fingers and hands along those reddening ass cheeks, and between those squirming thighs. 

I noticed during one of these little breaks that the musky perfume of her arousal was permeating the room.

"You reek of sex, Mistress.... I think you like this...."

"Maybe I do, Slave....."

When the appropriate number of strokes had been applied, I took a photo to provide evidence of part of our stakes paid, that I emailed off to Jay and Suzanne.

But now it was time to reward Mistress for her "good sportsmanship".  Fortunately, "Mr. H." (her Hitachi) was already plugged in at bed side.  I kept her tied to the bed, as I pressed the vibrating orb home between those crimson ass cheeks. 

It's always fin to watch Mistress flex and tense all those muscles in her ass and thighs as she works her way to one of those special cums that only Mr. H can deliver. And she took her time, building it to the point where there could be no return. She even asked for permission!  What a good switch-day Slave.

After she'd come down, she told me it was time to fuck her. And I was more than happy to release her wrists  and follow her directions for a long and leisurely time.

Snow Day

After four days of glorious sunshine, a storm front moved in over our mountain range, dumping about a foot on us with some high winds to boot.

Since our ski days are limited this season, Molly and Mick were not about to pass on the powder day, despite the challenging conditions. But we did take a few more breaks than normal to keep us warm and not too exhausted from fighting the heavy, wet snow. 

By mid-afternoon, Mistress was already thinking about the next thing up on our agenda.

"I'm looking forward to riding your cock this afternoon, Slave."

"Ummmm.... that does sound good."

We had planned on listening to some apres ski entertainment, then heading into town to stock up on some provisions. (We've been so lazy that we've survived on some items in the larder, and what we could scavenge at a tiny market near our house).

But by the time we finished the snow slowed slog down the mountain to our house, we were in no mood for the 8 mile trip to the closest real grocery store. It was back to the tiny organic market for me to cobble together something for dinner.

One thing I passed on was the locally made Yak Lasagna.

After our close working relationship with the Yaks in What-the-Hell-it-Stan, the last time we were on the Lam, it seemed a little cruel to buy the pre-prepared lasagna, or even the ground Yak  on sale.

But I was curious, and found the web site and Blog of the local Yak purveyors.  While they seem to make and market a high quality product, I was a little troubled to see the cute photos of Bonnie, progressing from little "calf" (or whatever you call a baby Yak), to full grown.  I mean, isn't she cute? (Though I'm not so sure about the ear studs).

It also got me thinking about the WC. I mean if the lovely Molly isn't enough to tempt him to make the 5 hour or so drive down here, would it help if we threw in a Yak to keep him just a little warmer at night?  If so, he might not need to wear his special winter time briefs to avoid recurrence of that frost bite suffered last winter.

After I'd made my dinner selections, I headed home to Molly, who had already shed her ski wear and was alluringly naked, tucked into our bed, catching up on some emails on her laptop.

"I take it we're deferring dinner for a while, Mistress?'

"Food can wait a little while Slave take off your cloths and get in here.... I have some riding to do."
I was more than happy to obey.

I Know It When I See It.

Our CEO decided to take the lead today and share some thoughts on yesterday's developments here on our local ski mountain.
 

Yesterday, Aisha provided a list of the important attributes needed for a significant other. I have mine – and as you are all well aware – they come in the body and mind of one Mick Collins. So my ventures out for another cock to add to our nest has been a bit of a different journey, as we are not in search of  a primary relationship. Even so, I do have my own version of a “list.”

It’s pretty simple. Like obscenity, I know it when I see it. I feel it. Like most women, I do have a certain profile. And yes, there I often return.

The man is a serious outdoorsman. He knows his way around tough external factors and is most alive when braving the elements. He has a serious sense of adventure.  I am fairly certain that my second major in Geology was all about the guys. And yes, no surprise that when I mapped the geological strata in Jackson, Wyoming, Baraboo, Wisconsin, Cape Cod, The Connecticut River Valley and the Black Hills of South Dakota – there was more than “mapping” taking place.

 

Which brings me to today. After year’s of knowing that one of the world’s foremost climbers lives a few acres from us and works the  ski patrol during his “off climbing season” (because he needs to live at altitude), I came face-to-face with him.

And friends, the usually smooth Molly Collins gushed and flirted. I kind of fell all over myself. As he talked about just getting back from “the ice” (crossing Antarctica on foot), I jumbled my words. Then later when I saw him strapping an injured  skier into a sled, I watched his able hands work the ropes.

My wet pussy meeting this long sought out celebrity was/is quite an experience.   Mick and I have had constant chats about how to meet my next guy – and part of me is done with it all. Another part says if we persist then places like Fetlife and Collar Me are clearly NOT the places to find him.

So we run across an interesting option in the midst of an otherwise sunny and innocent day…Mr. Climber did let us know exactly which dirt driveway is his (gang that does count for intimacy in these parts) and I am wondering …. do I show up there in my skin tight and (oh so sexy) Italian long underwear, or perhaps a fleece with nothing under it…hmmmm…back to the search.

How does one really come on to a Man like this? “Well you see Mr. completely HOT climber / ski patrol dude, Mick and I have this thing going on…and we would like to spend some time with you…and about those ropes….

All in a day’s work.

Love

Molly

No Mercy.

True to our high falutin' literary ambitions here, the title of today's blog has a double meaning.

Here in our Mountain Hideaway, it was Mistress showing no mercy to her devoted Slave.

After another beautiful day on our sun drenched ski mountain, we came back down to our home, on the edge of the mountains where the sun had warmed things to spring like conditions. Of course, that meant Mistress was soon out onto the patio, snow from the last big storm be damned.  Here she is, still in her ski undies, soaking up some late afternoon rays.

When the sun sank a bit more, Mistress declared it time for a short nap, and beckoned her Slave in to bed to keep her warm. That's an assignment that I was happy to perform.

But first, there was an assignment. 

"Put my supplies by the side of the bed, Slave.... so, they're easy to reach when nap time is over."

I assembled her strap on kit, and of course the lubricant.

"Now don't forget the riding crop, Slave.... you know you have that punishment coming."

I found her crop  too, but I must admit I was hoping that Mistress had forgotten my little transgression --- the embarrassing incident where I asked the ski patrol dude how Mistress could find Dave -------, the object of her smutty fantasies, up on the mountain this weekend.

We napped huddled close together, and then, just as the sun was setting, we both woke.  Mistress had business on her mind.

"Hand me the crop, Slave....."

To stave off what seemed to be the inevitible, I tried a little distraction ploy, suggesting we first take in the sunset. The  dying sun was blazing in front of our house, a tiny bright wedge  was all that was left on the Western horizon.

But those  last intense rays sliced through our  living room window and, as if by conscious design,  illuminated in bright bold red light  a folk art painting of the Virgin Mother and her Son, hanging on our wall. (Out here they call such things "Santos" or "Retalbos"). I thought the timing of this little "miracle" could be useful.

"Look at that Mistress, .... that has to be a sign that the baby Jesus wants you to spare my aging ass!  After all, you may have to spank it again tomorrow if the Broncos can't cover the spread!"

"That has to be the most pathetic scam to avoid a well deserved punishment I've heard yet, Slave."

You can't blame a Slave for trying, can you?

No, Mistress had no mercy.

Not unlike the alpenglow that setting sun left on the mountains behind our adobe cottage, I can still feel the 'afterglow" of the blows that rained down on my tender tush at sunset last night. Fortunately,  after she had taken my not so virgin ass with her strap on, I was allowed to take my own satisfaction from those welcoming clean shaven folds. Maybe that was the Mercy I was looking for from Mistress, who always seems to know what's good for her Slave.

Of course, the other example of  "No Mercy" came last night in Foxboro, Mass.,  where  All Mine's Team put a big hurt on Tim Tebow and his over-matched apostles.  As the ESPN headline put it this morning, "Brady's  6 TD's, Pats, Bury Tebow." And with Tebow's cold  crucified corpse  went  the collective asses of the UCTMW management team -- well at least the WC, Slave and Mistress.  Bill, feel free to add Donna into the mix if she wants to "feel our pain" in a team building exercise.

We've all had fun with Tim Tebow attributing his victories to his devotion to Jesus. I was even hoping that the sunset illumination of Jesus and his Mom here last evening,  just before game time, was an encouraging portent.

But apparently Jesus took the sabbath off last night. Either that, or Mitt Romney got the Angel Moroni to intervene and balance divine influences on behalf of his local team. Combine last night's "burial" with the Saints loss to the team from "Sodom  on the Bay", and the Christian right will have a few more talking points to add to their "War on Religion" whine.

But with Tebow sent to the grave, at least until the Broncos roll away his stone in the fall, maybe we need to find another story line for the balance of the NFL payoffs. (One thing I won't do is hype another bet with Suzanne. She drives a very hard bargain, not unlike her utilization of Big Blackie on Tammy).

And after taking a look at the Pats Coach on the sideline last night it came to me: Bill Bellichek is one of two evil geniuses separated at birth.  See what I mean:

So will this year's Super Bowl be an NFL remake of "The Empire Strikes Back"?

Dave?

First off, I want to acknowledge the efforts of the WC yesterday in finalizing lengthy negotiations with the Queen (errr.... team) over at All Mine to conclude our wager for tonight's game between Tebow's Disciples and Brady's Bandits.  It was difficult, and I see from her posting summarizing the bet that Suzanne tossed in a few wrinkles near the end that those of us at UCTMW had to swallow a little harder than normal to accept.

(In particular, I thought my own ass was out of this wager.... but I can handle it in the spirit of sportsmanship).

I won't even try to summarize the terms, which are particularly complex and seem to exempt Suzanne alone from the lofty 13 1/2 point spread. Very crafty! Check them out here: All Mine - wager terms.

I just hope that in the spirit of religious liberty, the NFL has waived the "12 Men in the Huddle" rule for tonight's game, because the Broncos are going to need their 12th Man, or, in the alternative, Tim "The 2nd Coming" Tebow will need a full complement of apostles.

Now that WC has polished his negotiating skills with Suzanne, he's more than ready to take on the smoldering peace talks with the Taliban to end the War on Afghanistan. Or maybe that dicey bit about Iran's nuclear arms program? I'll be passing your name onto Hillary, WC.

Out here in our little hideaway, Mistress and Slave had a nearly perfect day: Morning Sex, Skiing in brilliant sunshine, an apres ski nap, topped off with a little more sex, reading books, and then off to dinner at Mistress's favorite Pizza joint in the World. Mistress's preferred delicacy there is the Spelt Pizza crust, which she ordered with goat cheese and mushrooms. (Mitt Romney, no doubt, would have ordered it with Chevre).

But there was a slight blemish in our day:  On one of our many chair rides we joined a rugged Ski Patrol dude. After he gave us some in depth analysis on the threat of avalanche on a particular pitch, I asked about the whereabouts of certain famous mountain climber who winters here on the ski patrol. He's a guy  Mistress has on the top of her "bucket list" (or should that be "cock list").

His first name is Dave, and he's climbed Everest more than any other American. That and plenty of the other highest peaks too.  Mistress has a long smoldering fantasy about meeting him, and then.... well who knows.

So, I thought I just was being helpful.....

"My wife has always wanted to meet Dave ....., she's a big fan. Is he on the  Mountain this weekend?"

Mistress gave me a nudge and a dirty look.

"He should be on tomorrow.... just stop by the ski partrol hut and see if he's around...."

"Great idea...."

The Ski Patrol guy and  Mistress finished the ride talking about Dave's exploits and her own past experiences in climbing.

Afterwords Mistress was unhappy, to say the least,  with her "only trying to be helpful" Slave.

"That was embarrassing, Slave.... you deserve a punishment for that...."

"I just told him you were a fan, not that you want to perfom a full body inspection while he's tied helplessly to your bed with an assortment of climbing gear."

That drew a very nasty look from Mistress.

So, even before the outcome of tonight's game, I may have a bruised ass to show for my attempted good deed.

But there is a little post script to this sad tale of Slave's impending punishment.

Lat night, after we had stuffed ourselves with spelt pizza and Utica greens, we were heading home in the dark, the brilliant fog of the milky way overhead, the 2/3's moon yet to rise.

Mistress was stretched back in her seat,  a little tipsy from the wine that helped wash down that pizza, and tired from a day on the slopes. But not too tired, apparently....

"Dave, do we have the Hitachi back at the house."

"Uhhhh..... yes Mistress.... it's there in our drawer..... but did you just call me 'Dave'?

"Oooops...... I guess I meant to say, Slave......"

"Sounds like you still have your climber hero on your mind, Mistress....."

"Oh, Slave...."

Regardless, once we were settled into bed, Slave deployed "Mr. H." to make sure Mistress had a little moaning and groaning night cap to top off a lovely day out here on the Lam.

And whether in the deep recesses of that dirty little mind it was her trusty Slave or that macho climber wielding her favorite power tool, who was I to judge.

In Exile In the High Dessert

Mistress and Slave are on the lam again, if only for a week or so, taking some time off at our high desert hideaway here in the Southwest.  We plan to get in plenty of skiing, relaxation, and, of course, connubial bliss.  And this time we did not need help from the Sex Blogger Protection Program.

While originally we intended to go completely dark for a week, that seemed to make things a little ..... off..... yesterday morning. Though Mistress got the attention she deserved, with Slave's lips and tingue buried in those clean shaven folds.... something was missing.

"It's strange not to have the blog to read when you worship, Slave.... it's like going to a great restaurant and not trying an appetizer before the main course."

It's nice to think of my daily prattle as sauteed fois gras,  or an artisan roasted beet salad

So while this week I may be abbreviated in my discourse, I get the message.... my prime directive is to please Mistress, and whether  she is the only one who reads this, or it filters out to but a few of our more devoted readers, it really makes no difference.

Mistress shall get her morning appetizer!

Yesterday, over at All Mine, Suzanne described a rather intense spanking she bestowed on Tammy, and she speculated whether our prospective bet between the competing sex blog universes over the outcome of the Broncos v. Patriots play-off game should include a spanking as part of the stakes. And while Mistress greedily was thinking of something more carnal, involving the legendary trophy cock, we do realize that considering our distance it might be hard to "collect" on such a bet.  Or that Suzanne might consider the TC something she wants to keep a tighter grip on (at least until the Super Bowl!). So what about this as an alternative:

If the Pats beat the spread (whatever it is right now), then there will be a spanking:  The WC (who's team will be carrying the UCTMW banner), will persuade his wife B to administer  a good old fashioned paddling, with the implement of her choice, with a photo to be taken and posted as proof that the debt was properly paid!

On the other hand, if the Broncos beat the spread, then the tables will turn at All Mine, and Tammy. as agent for the UCTMW winners, will administer an appropriate spanking to Suzanne, with a picture to be posted to prove that the debt has been paid!  (Of course, if Jay wants to be chivalrous, he can always step in and "take it for the team".)

Naturally, we are open to any alternative you may want to propose, Suzanne.

But wouldn't it be nice to have a little personal skin in the game tomorrow night?  I am sure the WC won't mind, and I am sure Mistress would be willing to make it worth his while if he agrees to put his own ass on the line. But let's hear from him too.

Bets aside.... we made it here last night at around 10:30 or so Mountain time, not particularly exhausted. A nearly full moon lit up the mountains behind our home, and there were  patches of snow around from the storms that came through here in late December. We hear that there is a nice base up on the ski mountain, and we will be heading up there later this morning.

Once we had stowed away our things (we travel light since our home here has lots of climate suitable clothing), Mistress and Slave prepared for bed.

But she did have a question.

"Did you bring your device, Slave....."

She's referring to my aneros, a little surrogate to remind me that my ass, like the rest of me, belongs to Mistress.

"I did....."

"Well then go insert it now, Slave.... we've had a long day and I want to make sure I have a suitably hard cock...."

As you can imagine that was not a problem.