"Simone" and "Sam" have been forced to go on the Lam, after some sloppy security work exposed them to their potential "enemies". Fortunately, they've found help through the SBPP. ("Sex Bloggers Protection Program"). Follow their adventures here until its safe for them to resume their prior alter-egos.
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"?
It had been a stressful week for Molly and Mick. So with the kids gone for two days, we had made sure to have a very unscheduled Saturday.
Of course, there was time for some morning sex, then Mistress had an appointment for hair maintenance, while I did some yard work. By 11::30 or so, we were back at home together, getting on our bikes and doing a good hill climb before some time at our local swim club.
Mistress swam about 40 laps, as her dutiful Slave read the Times. Then we hopped back on our bikes for the ride home.
That left a good bit of the afternoon for us to loll in bed, before heading to an evening party at some friends’ home.
“I do like the kids being away, Slave…. it almost makes me feel like we are newly weds.”
I agreed, and look forward to their more permanent departures in just two weeks.
I stopped in the kitchen to prepare a snack, and when I got upstairs, Mistress was already in bed, in the buff, chatting with the WC.
He was curious about whether it was one of those Saturday’s when Slave gets a good ass fucking.
“We’re both pretty tired right now, M. But there’s plenty of time.”
She gave me a look as I was stripping off my bathing suit and t-shirt … one of those knowing smiles, laughing with M about my likely “plight”.
Once she signed off, we settled into some books, but were soon snoozing. About an hour or so later we were woken by some text messages from Molly’s sister, and a phone call from our second sullen teen.
The “drama” was about the teen’s apparent unhappiness that her slightly older sister was going on a college wardrobe shopping spree on Michigan Ave., while the younger one was shut out because she had already spent too much on “stuff” during her recent NYC trip.
This provoked the Slave into a bit of a huffy rant about spoiled kids not appreciating what they’ve got…. Yadda … yadda….
Apparently Mistress filed this away for later.
When it came time for is to shift our attention to more carnal pursuits, Mistress asked me to get her “equipment”, her harness, her faux cock, and the container of lube.
Once I obtained what she was looking for, and placed it on the little table at her side of the bed, I noticed something I’d not gotten out, laying on the sheet next to me.
Her riding crop.
“Uhhhh…. What’s this doing out, Mistress?”
Actually, I thought I’d been a pretty worthy slave this week, not that any particular excuses are required if Mistress chooses to discipline her Slave.
Se told me to get on my stomach on the bed, she picked up her crop, and I could feel it slowly tracing little patterns on my ass.
“save, you were very helpful and supportive this week …. But that rant this afternoon …. You know I don’t like all that complaining and whining, it suggests maybe I’ve been a bad role model for our girls….”
I considered trying to explain that they are virtual adults, and that when I complain about their behavior it is not intended to criticize their hard working Mom…. But that train had already left the station.
So I simply took my medicine.
Mistress lit into me with a flurry of slaps from that nasty crop. Hard ones, in quick succession. She had me squirming on the bed, my mouth biting into a pillow to squelch my “yeowwls” of discomfort.
She clearly was determined to instruct me on the error of my ways.
And she definitely succeeded.
After a brief pause she said, “Hmmm…. I think those really hurt, don’t they slave….”
“Uhhh….. yeah…. They really do…..”
“Well then just one or two more then.”
They were two particularly hard ones. Mistress is wielding a mean crop these days.
When she finally put down her weapon, I moaned in relief. Her hands rubbed the little stripes she had left behind.
That felt nice.
“Ohhh, my…. Your ass really is pretty red, Slave. I think I’ll take a picture and send it to M, since he was so curious about what we might be up to today.”
She took up her I-phone and texted it off to M. And she sent it via email to me.
“Make sure you post this tomorrow, Slave….”
"Of, course, Mistress."
I’m sure M enjoyed seeing the sometimes arrogant Executive Editor get his comeuppance.
By then she was cinching up her harness, applying some lube and telling me to assume my position.
My ass now just had a warm glow to it, which seemed to warm up the work-a-day cock too. The combination of a firm cropping followed by Mistress’s deployment of her strap-on certainly pushes my buttons, it seems.
And Mistress certainly seemed to relish the moment as well. She seemed to come more than once in little jerks and enthused moans as she pumped into her Slave from behind.
When she had her fill of me, tossing her harness aside for me to clean and tuck away later, she took another look at my ass.
“You know, I think it’s even redder now, Slave.”
She picked up our camera and took another shot --- so you now have another shot, for comparison’s sake.
And even this morning, I can still feel that glow. An extra motivation, no doubt, for Switch Day…. Kids away edition.
It’s our last morning here. Soon we’ll be packing up and heading back to River City.
In consideration for Suzanne’s long battle these last two weeks with celibacy, and to give me enough time for some morning kanoolding with Mistress, I will pass over the sexcapades here in our Mountain hideaway on Saturday. Suffice it to say that Mistress made sure to use her strap-on one more time before we head back to our surly teens and other forms of reality.
We did make sure to have a nice day yesterday in other categories of activity too…. A nice long bike ride down and then up out of a valley near here that always gets my cardio-system thrumming. Here is Mistress on the downward trail, and then at an overlook after coming out of what we call “the hole”.
Isn’t that vivid riding shirt muy caliente?
Then another walk down into the gorge for some sunbathing, soaking and reading. Here is an shot down into the hot springs area, which you can see was quite popular yesterday afternoon.
Aftewards, it was home for a little nap and that aforementioned ass fucking that Mistress applied to her Slave, with much delight shared by both participants.
I made us some dinner – gnocchi with some locally made basil based pesto and organic asparagus. Delicious if I do say so myself. And it reminded us both how much we enjoy just eating here at our little cottage – the two of us – watching the sky as some more monsoon showers passed across that vast open expanse to our south.
Finally, it was off to a local concert venue for a show by the Iguanas, a New Orleans band I had heard at a club on Frenchmen St. years ago, BK.
The band is an eclectic mix of grateful dead jam style band, latin and Cajun all melted together, that had the local crowd up and dancing from the first song. Of course, some dancers are flashier than others, and Mistress and I enjoyed watching a particularly expressive couple out in the floor, twirling and bending into one another.
Mistress has never been the showy sort that puts all that sensuality out on the dance floor like this lady, and she asked it that was a problem for me.
“Of course not Mistress…. I like it that you save it for the bedroom.”
We speculated whether someone who gets all hot and expressive on the dance floor cools off when the doors are closed and the lights go down. I guess it would be hard to construct a scientific study to that end, wouldn’t it?
But by the time the band hit their stride, about an hour into their set, I did get Mistress out on the floor, swaying against me to a slow and sensual latin beat, and later, as the tempo picked up, on this, the band’s final number.
It was a great evening, just the two of us, and a cast of dancing locals, without the social posse that can get a little tedious, even out here.
It’s memories like these of our beautiful valley that keep us coming back, just like in this song (Beautiful Valley) by a local singer / songwriter. (Check it out, because it comes with a lovely musical postcard of our little piece of heaven here).
Donna will have something for you all tomorrow, as Molly and Mick struggle to get back into commuter and work mode.
We have settled into a nice little rhythm here in the mountains now.
I wake to do my blogging.
Mistress allows that she is now awake, maybe around 7 am here.
I come to share her bed, worship as she reads the blog, then, if she is satisfied (and I make sure she is), I am allowed to take my pleasure from her.
After that a long bike ride, up and down some challenging hills here at 7000 ft.
Some breakfast.
A little telecommuting work, and maybe some chores around the house. Yesterday it was painting an old piece of furniture acquired at a 2nd hand shop for use on our patio.
Mistress of course was out in the sun, naked, making sure I applied sunscreen to that lovely bottom before it got too rosy.
Around 3 pm or so the clouds began to gather for what could have been but never became a pop up thunderstorm. The gods of rain like to tease a lot out here.
Mistress suggested that we move into our chambers.
And she had a surprise.
“You’re going to get fucked in the ass this afternoon Slave…”
“But it’s not Saturday, Mistress…”
“Does it need to be Saturday?”
I suppose it’s her call, isn’t it?
So after a little nap, Mistress made sure I assembled her “supplies”, which I had been told to pack. Soon she was all dressed up in her harness, ready for action.
This got us wondering about Tammy and Carol over at All Mine. There was a bit of a cliffhanger there this weekend. Carol was “babysitting” , and had Tammy acquire a strap-on harness for her use over the holiday weekend. But…. Come on Tammy…. Where’s the update?
In any event, back to our bedroom….
We cuddled and teased a bit before Mistress instructed me to assume the proper position, face down, a pillow under my hips. And then it was Mistress taking me the way she likes. (I’m not nearly flexible enough for that diaper position).
Soon she was having one and then another nice expressive cum as she thrust into me, before she collapsed onto my back, rather satisfied with herself.
“I hope that reminds you who is in charge, Slave…”
I mumbled something expressing consent, from within my little submissive cloud.
“Now go out in your device and get back here and fuck me, Slave….”
I rallied, and hopped to, not wanting to miss that opportunity.
Our evening avoided the collection of friends we had seen Monday, just dinner at Mistress’s favorite Pizza joint: spelt crust with the world’s greatest view.
Over dinner, we talked about an interesting email exchange Mistress had with a reporter from a national publication. The writer, who Mistress checked out to be reputable on her I-phone, was looking to talk to women who would share on the subject of balancing work, kids and a healthy sex life.
She was willing to work with just Molly’s first name and city.
Mistress was intrigued. It’s a subject she thinks is important to talk about. But how much to share?
Should she use her “secret identity” name, or ask the reporter to refer to her as Molly…
And should she just give her the first layer of the truth around the Collins household, or delve into what our readers here know…. The contract, the flirtations with a cuckold lifestyle, bondage.
We played out the interview over pizza and later at a local music venue, listening to some local musicians do their unique country / folk thing.
“So what do you and your husband do to keep things fresh?”
“There’s the office worship…. Then the occasional ass fucking he needs to keep him in line…, you can read all about it in our sex blog.”
My guess is if Mistress went there, the reporter would roll her eyes, label us crazies, and file the interview somewhere in a vault. Then she would go with the more conventional lady describing an occasional “date night” with hubby, where they might “make out” in a parked car and do other “naughty” things.
We left it with Molly giving the reporter a “shallow” view of what it takes to keep things hot at home, and seeing how the reporter handles it.
Somehow, as Jack Nicholson put it in that movie, I doubt this reporter “can handle the truth.”
And I don’t think that Molly and Mick want to risk a whole lot of questions being asked in River City about this lady with the first name who does all sorts of crazy, sexy things with her “Slave” husband.
But we will certainly keep you all up dated.
Sun’s up now here in the Sangres.
Need to brew some coffee and make sure Mistress is properly attended .
Mistress is off at her big high school re-union tonight.
Now I’m sure several of you are asking yourselves: Mick, what sort of husband / slave doesn’t accompany his Wife / Mistress to her high school reunion?
Well, first, I did, once, about 10 years ago. And I suspect that Mistress spent more time that night making sure I was not bored than actually interacting with those long lost male and female friends.
So I offered to let her go solo this time. She had friends, a female and a male, offering to be her “date”, and she seemed content to let me spend the evening with surly teen #2. (I happily rejected the offer of her friends’ spouses for an evening drinking elsewhere with them).
The teen and I went to see the Green Lantern movie (my childhood fave when it comes to super heroes), while Mistress cavorts with her old high school chums.
And of course she had license to flirt and do whatever she wants should any of those guys, who no doubt had the hots for her back in the day, decide to take one last shot at the lovely Molly.
It’s in our contract.
But don’t worry, I’m not going to give you a review of Green Lantern… let’s just say the studio did not get it’s money’s worth. But the chick from Gossip Girl (that’s why the sullen teen picked it over “X-Men” or “Super 8”) is relatively hot, though not much of an actress.
So lets skip over “Mick and his daughter go to the movies…”
In fact there was plenty of sex at the UCTMW World HQ to report on since my last full dispatch.
I’ll skip over the action here Friday night, after our bike ride, when Mistress rode my cock to a rather stunning cum. Non-reverse cowgirl.
I’ll also breeze past Saturday morning, when Slave was allowed to fuck Mistress before I headed to a political meeting.
No, let’s pick up the action later in the day, around 4 pm, after a nap and bike ride, before Mistress started primping for her reunion.
Previously, while we were riding, Mistress said we would probably not have much time for afternoon “action”. But, as it turned out, some time opened up on her schedule.
We were barely out of the shower.
“Slave, go get my supplies… I think you need some attitude adjustment.”
“Uhh… OK….”
I scrambled to assemble her strap on equipment – dildo, harness, lube.
“You’ve been a little too full of yourself lately, Slave…cocky, arrogant, … too much swagger….”
“I won’t disagree with you Mistress….”
“Of course you won’t….”
She was in her harness now, lubed up. But there was something else to take care of first.
“ down on your stomach, Slave….”
“No cuddle and kiss first, Mistress….”
She just laughed.
“Not today, Slave…”
That’s when I heard the swish of the riding crop, firmly hitting her hand.
Oops. Mistress wasn’t fooling around.
I assumed the position she required.
Smack.
Ouch.
I squirmed.
My ass was on fire.
“I didn’t like your tone on the phone yesterday, Slave…. when we were talking about (our sullen teen’s) checking account… you clearly had an attitude.”
Smack..
Ouch again. Very ouch.
I’m squirming as a series of blows hit my ass in quick succession. My mouth attaches itself to a pillow to stifle any exclamations. It’s the best I can do to resist the temptation of twisting away or covering my ass with my hands. But I knew that would only earn me more punishment.
“You’re right…Mistress… I know I was being an asshole.”
“Let this be a reminder to mind your tone, slave.”
I had a feeling it would be. And fortunately, after about 10 strokes Mistress was done.
Then she slid onto the bed next to me, warming me with some affection strokes on the ass, and passionate kisses, before straddling me, guiding her ‘cock” into place.
Her aim was true… her strokes were slow and deliberate. I suspect I was moaning as she worked into a quicker rhythm. And soon she was coming hard, with some impassioned thrusts, gasping her release.
After a bit more of the old “in and out”, she had her fill, and slid out of me, standing to toss her harness aside for me to put away later.
“Why don’t you go put in your device now Slave (my aneros)”
So I stood too, walking the few feet to our bathroom to follow her directions. That’s when she noticed my ass….
“Oh my, slave…. I don’t remember ever getting it quite that…. red… I need a photo of that…”
She had me stand in position. Then she texted off an image of her handy work to the WC, for his amusement. And copied me too.
“Put it on the blog Slave… our readers should know what happens when you get surly with me….”
So there you have it, my boney old ass, all red from Mistress’s crop.
Before we climbed back into bed, where Mistress allowed me to fuck her, the chime on her I-phone went off.
M says “ha ha”.
Funny.
Oh, and there was one more picture Mistress wanted me to share.
“Here’s one to send to Tammy, Slave….”
It was this photo that Mistress took at Saks the other day. No doubt M got a copy. But since Tammy and Carol (his weekend babysitter) were going panty shopping this weekend, Mistress wanted him to get a little example of what’s out there….
I like the yellow ones... not for me mind you. I've been spared the panty training.
BTW, tomorrow is Switch Day. You can bet Mistress will be closely interrogated about her evening out. I’ll make sure some of those clothespins are handy, in case she is reluctant to clear her conscience.
P.S. … Just as I was finishing this, Mistress arrived home. It was only around 11:45 or so. No late night partying with the class of 1981.
When I asked if there had been any flirting, her response was “not really.” We may have to get a little more to the bottom of that one this morning. And she also showed me something on her I-phone. The photo of a pink, rigid cock head.
“It came from the WC… just after I got to the re-union…”
“Can you believe it. It looks like Anthony Weiner’s at it again, and hacked into M’s account.”
Mistress’s long journey is coming to a close. She should be back to me Saturday evening. Thanks to the staff and the rest of you out there who have kept the ball in the air here with your comments and contributions. And Donna has definitely blossomed, from her normal incisive commentary to investigative reporting. Look at the photo she unearthed from the childhood of the entertaining but underproductive Western Correspondent, playfully evading the digit of his older brother:
While I am sure she can report on her own, it seems like she has had a very compelling trip to places she has studied about for years. And I think it’s very impressive that she stuck to the sometimes painful regimen that her personal trainer laid out for her before they left, despite a less than .500 mark when it came to calling the coin toss.
Yesterday Mistress shared with me a rather “gripping” photo of her poor nipple in the cruel embrace of M’s surrogate pinch. Imagining her getting herself off thrice before she can remove that nasty device is …. Well, maybe I can get her to give me a demonstration when she gets home?
Can we arrange that M?
We have extra cloths pins on hand in case she decides to leave those well worn ones in Prague.
But, for Mistress’s amusement and to entertain the rest of you I thought I would share something found in an old in-box. The date was November 12, 2009. Quite frankly I’m not sure if this is something I wrote before the blog started or right after it began, but it’s an interesting flashback, when my entries were addressed just to Mistress, and when Mistress was engaged via text and phone with her old College lover, E. (E was jettisoned after some rather bogus behavior.)
I hope she and you enjoy
WEEK IN REVIEW
I had a good night's sleep, woke next to you. and began thinking about what to write this am. I know you said I did not have to write this morning, but somehow the process of outlining in my brain some thoughts that might turn you on as you wake up turns me on .
The process is good for me (and hopefully for you too).
Thursday's crazy orgasm score was 12-5 by my count. So yesterday was like a partial day off. 5-2. No wonder we were both a little tired when we got home last night. I got thinking some about our conversation walking home from the game and your fear of giving up control, whether to E or anyone else. And here I have been enjoying my giving up control to you and discovering both its erotic and emotional benefits.
So I decided to make up a "top ten" of my hottest moments from the last week. A theme emerged, but to the moments first (in chronological order):
10. You, tied to and draped over the bed Sunday am, after a nice hard spanking, as I slowly slid my cock inside you, talking about how you (and I ) would feel at the thought of E doing that to you.
9. Me gathering my cloths, as you talked to E on Monday night, then coming down stairs to stew as I heard you pacing above me, charged with sexual energy for another man.
8. Sending you that email begging you to use your strap on that evening, because I was feeling particularly submissive and needed that to validate those feelings.
7. The frustration as you did use the strap on that evening, when I almost but not quite was able to come that way.
6. Was it later that night, that you pulled out the glove, and used it to stroke my balls as you rode me. I remember how hard I came that way , breaking the Monday rule.
5. You gently stroking me through my jeans at the Steely Dan concert. Me knowing that I had no right to ask you to stop. I was there simply for you to toy with. I really could have come that way, though it was better to save it for home.
4. The frustration of being inside you on abstinence day, but unable to come.
3. Waking early Thursday am, hard and frustrated but constrained by your order not to wake you until about 6:45.
2. Sitting on the floor between your legs, rubbing my mouth against you and sensing and tasting and smelling how turned on you were. Wondering if you had been sending an e to E.
1. The thickening of my cock later that night when E's text chime went off, feeling how turned on you were as I reached between your legs from behind, then the wild "too tired to fuck, too horny not to" sex we had, the 5th for me that day after the day of abstinence.
1A. You in my office Friday before lunch. tasting you through your boots and tights, then peeling them away and bringing you to orgasm one more time as you looked out the window. I loved the smile on your face when you explained why you did not bring the key to my cage. your pleasure was our only concern. (it’ making me hard right now to think about that).
The theme seems to be the power of my surrender of control to you. So its not surprising that you would want a taste of the same medicine. That was part of the pull of E for you. Along with the idea that he had accessed and awakened a long , dormant "free spirited" part of your personality.
It’s annoying and hurtful that he seems to drift in and out so easily, even when you are politely asking for his attention. Maybe it’s too much for you to handle. But the idea of surrendering to those feeling he has unleashed still is a powerful one I would think. And you should know I will ALWAYS be here to nurture, protect and catch you if you fall too hard, Mistress., whether for E or someone else.
So why does that dynamic turn me (and I think you too) on, whether its for E or Ken L, or just some guy who flirts with you at the Post Office? But whether its cyber, fantasy or real, I do think our openness about the qualities that make other men attractive to you, their desire for you, and your desire/interest for/ in them has added some extra spice to our relationship.
For all those years you have sent the "keep your distance" signal. These last few weeks you have not. No reason to hide your charms, mistress. Whatever you do or feel, I am behind you ready to catch, lick and fuck you when I get your permission.
With one teen visiting friends in Florida for the weekend, and the other spending the night with a friend in her college dorm (I know, let’s not ask too many questions about that), Mistress and Slave had the luxury of waking to an empty house Saturday morning.
Sleeping in was on the the agenda for Mistress. And of course a bike ride if the monsoon clouds ever parted. But first, there was some rather vigorous activity between the sheets.
“I think I need a particularly hard cock this morning slave…. why don’t you go put in your device (my little white aneros).”
Naturally, I responded to her command, and proceeded to demonstrate exactly how hard my work-a-day cock could get
By the time we were disentangled, Mistress seemed more than pleased.
After our ride, we were off in different directions: me to hang out with my grandson and a visiting older daughter; Mistress on a mission to deal with her nails before her European mission begins.
By the time we were back under the same roof, and I had unpacked the groceries for Easter dinner (yes, Slave and Mistress will be hosting yet another mandatory family gathering tonight), I noticed a package on the front steps.
It was the next installment of our consumer testing consignment from EdenFantasies.com.
Now our commitment to these folks is to do a product review with appropriate links when we receive a free toy from them.
This is not that review!!! That will be coming later this week, to provide a little filler while Mistress is overseas.
But the new toy did see a little abortive action yesterday.
You see what we were looking for was a new tool for Mistress’s strap on. Her current “prong” is getting a little shop worn, and, quite frankly, is more the starter size, as you can see from this photo.
It seemed that something a little bigger, and a little spiffier would be something that would be nice to add to our collection. I mentioned this to Kayla, our EdenFantasies.com “handler”, and she sent us about 5 links of products to choose from.
Well, either I wasn’t paying attention to the dimensions of these products, or, like kids in the candy store, our appetites got away from us.
I opened the package, pulled out the nice see through packaging and …. Gulp.
No way was this thing …. About 8 inches long and rather bulbous at the end… was going to fit once Mistress got into her frenzy of pumping her hips against my tender ass.
Of course, this being Saturday afternoon, and with her plans to leave town on Tuesday, Mistress had made it clear that I was due for what she described as a “good ass fucking to remember me by” during our long separation.
I suppose I could have tucked away our new toy, or stuck it back in the box for a return. She might never have known it had even arrived.
But honesty is the best policy, particularly if I want to remain the “pampered house Slave” at UCTMW World HQ.
So when it was time to crawl into bed for our next Saturday round, I meekly displayed to Mistress the new toy.
“Oh my, Slave…. and whatever are we to do with that?”
I politely indicated that it was my mistake…. That there was no way this sucker was going to fit me tight little aperture.
Fortunately, Mistress did not disagree.
Plus as she held it in her hand, feeling its heft, she concluded that it was way too pliant and flexible to force its way into that tight and tiny space.
She had me take a photo of it in her newly manicured fingers, to send off to M via text message.
“Maybe it will make him think of me handling the special occasion cock, Slave.”
And I also took a shot of it attached to her harness, to share with you its rather frightening dimensions.
(Am I off base here, readers? Just a wimp? Suzanne, maybe you can show us a photo of the tool that you use when having your fun with Tammy.)
In any event, after the photo op was concluded, I helped Mistress “reload” with her more conventional weapon.
We spent some time kissing, fondling and stroking until Mistress was ready for the main event.
“Get in position, Slave.”
“As you wish, Mistress.”
And she made sure that we both had an experience to tide us over as she heads on her journey. Can you store up orgasms, like squirrels do nuts for the winter?
She easily found her mark, then, ultimately, came hard twice, while surging into me with a considerable fervor, until she collapsed into to me, spent. Then she had me insert my aneros again, before allowing me to take her hard and long, from above.
When my time had come, and after I made sure she had at least two more cums in the conventional fashion, she generously gave me permission too.
I did tell her that we would try out our new toy on her this morning, when I exercise my switch privileges.
Some of you gave old Mick some serious shit yesterday for whining about our “horrid” 56 hour draught here at UCTMW World HQ.
It had been since Thursday morning …. And Mistress was not scheduled to return until 1 pm or so Saturday from her trip to visit her very old but still feisty grandmother.
Yeah... I know. I'm spoiled. But could be that just makes it worse, when Mistress and I are apart? Even if just briefly?
I dutifully kept my vow of “no touching” without Mistress’s consent, passing the time with some yard work, tax document preparation, and visiting my own cranky whiner of a mother. I tried to avoid being the sad, lonely guy in this song.
(Hmmm…. Maybe my whining is hereditary…. Though her whining seems more to do with ambient noise in her condo, whereas mine focuses on missing my beloved CEO).
While I had a chance for a couple of brief conversations with her, Mistress was always in close proximity to her mother or grandmother while she was away, even at bedtime, so there was no opportunity for any naughty or intimate chat. I just didn't know what to do with myself.
During the course of my Saturday morning, I did receive a textual taunt:
“It’s ass fucking day. Slave….”
But finally, Mistress pulled into our drive, dropped off by her mother. I was in our backyard, gave her a wave, and briefly finished up filling a trash bin with some of last fall’s leaves before helping her carry her overnight bag up to our room.
Of course, I offered to take her to bed and lavish her with some physical attention immediately. But it was a gorgeous, warm and sunny day here in River City.
“They’ll be time enough for that Slave…. First, a bike ride to get the kinks out after that long drive….”
“Sure… but save a few kinks for me, Mistress.”
The bike ride was glorious, but after about an hour we were back and…. Thanks to the gods… the two sulky and bored teens had decided on an outing to the outlet mall.
We relaxed a bit…. lying in bed. I had showered to make sure I was “spanking” clean for Mistress.
“Get out my equipment, Slave…. And bring a riding crop too…”
Gulp.
I collected her harness, the accompanying dildo, and lubricant. AS she slid into it, tightening it to fit her lush body, I found the crop in the corner of our closet and handed it to her.
“Get in position, Slave….”
“But why the crop, Mistress….”
“You know why…. You were certainly less than enthused to see me this afternoon Slave….”
“But….”
“I would have expected you to rush over and greet me when I pulled in…. instead…you kept raking those leaves….”
Thwack….
“Ouch….”
I tried to minimize my offense… “I was just finishing the task so we could go upstairs together…” or some such. She would have none of it. And it turned out she also thought I was less than sweet and charming when we talked on the phone while she was gone.
"It reminded me how distant you were sometimes when we were commuting."
No, that was not good. Not at all. No wonder she was itching to apply some good punishment. Best to leech those bad vibes out of her system pronto, even at the expense of my temporary discomfort.
By now the blows were raining down. My ass was getting increasingly tenderized, and I was squirming on the bed.
“Hold still, Slave… you’re just making things worse for yourself….”
I tried. Believe me I did. But man, that crop was hurting my bony old white ass.
“My, that is getting pretty red, Slave… maybe I should take a picture….”
“Feel free, Mistress.”
I figured that she could not snap a photo and clobber me with the crop at the same time.
But, At LAst (yet again), she was done with the crop, admiring her handywork, her hands sliding over the welts that she had created.
“Nice…. Slave…. But now, get in position for the good part….”
I settled back onto the bed, my hips under a pillow.
She straddled me, then slid her tool home….
“”How’s that, Slave…. “
“Ummmm…. Nice Mistress.”
Soon she was picking up the pace, filling me quite effectively… and working herself into that lovely frenzy that delivers a lunging, moaning climax for her. I remember her nails digging into my back, her hot breath on my neck when she collapsed onto me, spent.
When she extracted herself, rolling off to remove her harness and deposit on the floor for me to tuck away later, she gave me some additional instructions.
“Go put in your device, Slave…”
I made sure I hopped to…. I was not going to cross her again today, and I had some business of my own to tend to….finally.
It was a glorious day in River City yesterday. Somehow the sun was shining and temperatures rose into the 60’s. Of course, that meant Mistress and her acolyte when it comes to sun worshipping – surly teen #1 – unearthed long buried bikinis and were out on our deck absorbing dangerous ultraviolet rays by about 11 am.
Rest assured, Mick did get some early morning action, after dutifully worshiping Mistress, before the sun rose too high. And there was a very vigorous bike ride too, before I was off on some errands and Mistress and the teen were in full sun bathing mode.
But as the sun got lower in the sky….Mistress reminded me that it was a day for some serious ass fucking of her Slave….
But before we get to that part of this morning’s essay, I want to respond to some questions forwarded to us as part of this weeks Q and A blogger ritual.
If there are more questions out there, please let us know before question time ends. (also, feel free to forward questions for our international staff, I’m sure they would be happy to co-operate, though the WC may somehow treat the effort as overtime. I note that he and Suzanne were trading some provocative Q and A over at All Mine yesterday which you may want to check out.)
1. Why does Molly wear panties in bed? I would think you would be a butt naked couple.
Molly varies her routine. Often she sleeps naked, and I believe that is her preference. But sometimes she will wear some lacy, sexy items purely for decorative effect, as you’ve seen in some of our photos.(one above is an example) I think she believes they make her Slave all the more desirous of pealing them off. And she’s right.
2. Other than avoiding wheat, does Molly have to pay attention to her diet? She looks so fit and healthy and I know her VERY active sex life and bicycling play a part in keeping her cute figure, but is there a dietary aspect to that, too? Watch your answer here, many are already jealous and you don't want to stir up any really hard feelings among your female readers - some of whom have to watch every damn piece of food that passes between their lips. Just wondering, in a non-violent sort of way.
Mistress is very conscious of her diet. Despite the Irish surname, she tries to avoid potatoes and other starchy things. Her favorite meal would be grilled fish and stir-fried veggies. But she does have a weak spot for our local chili parlors, spelt pizza and sweets, including chocolate and our locally made and ever so delicious ice cream. As you know, Slave has been punished for raising an eyebrow when Mistress takes her breakfast in the form of an ice cream sundae. And the teens know they can get a rise out of her simply by mentioning the word “tater-tots.” Fortunately, her aggressive exercise regime allows her these occasional indulgences.
3. Does anyone at Mick's office ever say anything to him about the noon visits from Molly and the sexy/musky aroma that permeates the office when the door opens?
No one has had the nerve to say anything to me about what happens behind closed doors in that corner office perched high above River City. I do wonder if they raise their own eyebrows among themselves about Mistress’s frequent visits and the fact that our door is quickly shut. Or if they hear the subtle clunking of her head against the door in the throws of her passion. Recently a female attorney who has the office next door described Mistress as “delightful”, and said that I must be happy to have her work so close that she can stop by frequently. I simply agreed with her. But I suspect that she and others in the office see me as the stuffy older partner type who would never consider engaging in lurid acts of sexual depravity behind an unlocked door.
4. The word is out in Blogland that the thought of having an empty nest brings overwhelming sadness, so you will be starting a 24/7 "Please Let Us Babysit Your Teenagers" service. Any truth to those rumors?
Uhhh….. No. Mick has not had an empty nest since about 1978. And Molly has done a very good Momming job for these last 19 years. Our work here is done. At least almost done. We are already plotting a way to move into a house with no guest rooms or closet space in a few years, just to avoid the “bounce back” child syndrome.
5. The other rumor, which carries more weight in my book, is that you will be starting up a Dungeon Club in your town and luring Donna and Bill into your employ with the offer of great sums of money and unlimited access to everything and everyone in the Dungeon . How about those rumors? Please?
The thought of a dungeon here in conservative River City make me chuckle. But it definitely could be done. There are some great old buildings that are underused with cavernous basements, high ceiling and tunnels. (Check out this video for the type of rooms that could be made available.)What we need is a sugar daddy. Or maybe the WC could persuade the Teamsters Pension Fund to advance us a couple of large ones. I hear they don’t insist on a particularly detailed business plan so long as your sponsor has some “juice”. And should Bill and Donna decide to join us in this deviant enterprise, well, I’m not sure I can promise great sums of money, but they could have first dibs on the newbie’s, and play with the toys all they want….
I hope this sated the curiosity of our (somewhat) anonymous questioner.
Now, as for yesterday afternoon…. As the sun began to sink a bit, driving its rays from our little deck, Mistress came inside, in search of her Slave who had been pouring over our tax documents, one of those hated annual rituals, that makes me yearn for Steve Forbes’ infamous “flat tax”.
“It’s that time, Slave…”
I shuffled my papers into some semblance of order, then headed upstairs.
“Why don’t you get out my supplies, Slave….”
I followed my orders, finding her harness and faux cock. And the lubricant, of course.
We had missed this little ritual the last two weeks due to some scheduling complications. So my ass was probably a little tighter than normal. And Mistress was gentle as first as she allowed me to help guide her “cock” home. But soon, once I was amply penetrated, Mistress picked up the pace, thrusting into me with a robust delight.
“You like this don’t you, Slave…..”
“I must say I do, Mistress…..”
My cock was hard, pressed against the pillow under my hips, and Mistress’s thrusts were making it harder, more desperate.
At some point, Mistress surrendered to her own powerful cum, moaning, and pressing her pelvis even harder against my fleshy ass, before she collapsed down onto me, her hand sliding along my flank.
But after a little rest, she withdrew, stepping off the bed to shed her harness.
“Why don’t you go put in your device Slave (the little white aneros), and come back to bed and fuck me….”
It was a busy Saturday here at the UCTMW World HQ.
Carrying forth with yesterday’s Sit-Com analogy, this could be one of those back to back episode extravaganzas …. And yet, well, I have some Switch Day planning to do this morning. Need to save some creative energy for that, don’t I?
So, roll the cutsey pooh credits, and let her rip……
Episode One:
Mistress was a horny little slut yesterday morning, if I may be so bold.
As she read the blog, and some of the comments that had already filtered in, I was buried between her muscular thighs under the sheet, lavishing her sodden folds with plenty of attention. And once the lap-top was set aside, she had a little amuse- bouche of an orgasm, complements of my tongue, sort of getting her appetite revved up for what would be served up next.
She pulled me up and next to her, grappling for my cock. It was already beginning to rise to the occasion, but with Mistress subtle (well, really not so subtle) grip, I was soon begging for permission to fuck her….and it took her a while to agree. She was amused by my pitiful pleas, it seemed.
But when she finally did agree to my entreaties, much to my desperate gratification, she threw a change up.
“Do me from behind, Slave….”
Hmmm… something that had been left off the menu for a few weeks. I was wondering what made Mistress want to go in this direction – some smutty little fantasy about our Western Correspondent I suspected – but I was happy to play my supporting role in it.
With some help from Mistress’s fingers I found my way in from behind, and made sure I pumped her with the type of fervid rhythm that seems to press the buttons for her in this position. And since it’s not a position that Slave readily comes in, well, all the better for Mistress, right? She knew I would not be annoying her with a request to come any time soon.
It was hard to tell if Mistress came that way, as I pressed her body hard against the mattress, sliding in and out with a good pace from behind….but after a while, it was another change-up from her.
“I want to be on top now, Slave….”
“Of course, Mistress….”
Hmmm….. more high energy from Mistress.
I slid off and over, rolling onto my back…. Mistress commented on my rather prominent cock, pointing up at her at a right angle from my tummy, like an old Atlas rocket about to chase down Sputnik and put it in its place (or was it Spud-Nut? … DM Sarah P., she would know….)
Quickly Mistress mounted me, and it was not long before she was squeezing those sultry green eyes shut, moaning and quaking with one of those seismic cums that seem to visit her in this position…. She was reaching back now, fondling my balls, and I was so close, but not …just …. there.
Arghhhh.
And I could tell Mistress was getting tired riding my cock, so I suggested we roll over…
She seemed grateful, sliding off me, then onto her back….and I was on top of her lickity split. Not long thereafter, it was Slave begging for permission, and Mistress generously saying “Yes, my Slave…”
That was my cue to go for it. It seemed I came in a long series of spasms, before collapsing back onto her soft, warm body.
At this point Slave could have gone back to sleep, cuddled next to her…. Brain and body dead like a piece of fully depreciated livestock.
But Mistress was not quite done.
“Hand me the Hitachi, Slave…..”
Wow. Some guys might feel that their services had come up short under such circumstances. But, call me cocky, I knew I had left it all on the field….
On this particular morning, Mistress’s needs were just a little more than something a mere cock could handle, and I had no shame in reaching under the bed and thumbing her power tool on for her.
I sidled next to her as the churning device slid under the sheets. I happily took on the role of supporting actor, gnawing on a nipple, then probing her mouth with my tongue, as she took matters into her own hands.
And soon she was bucking up against the machine’s soft churning bulb, her head thrown back, moaning with the final release of a well earned climax to our morning’s adventures.
At that point we both drifted off, spent….
Episode Two
So I was down in the bowels of the UCTMW World HQ, painting a door to our garage. (Yes, your humble Executive Editor / General Counsel / Risk Management Analyst also acts as weekend maintenance technician here in River City).
Mistress wandered downstairs, calling for me. I looked up. She had a phone pressed to her ear.
“I have the WC on the phone, Slave…. And he reminds me that you are due a punishment.”
Huh?
Apparently, our Western Correspondent was buttonholing our Boss, playing some office politics, whilst I am tending to mundane company business. He had been taking the CEO aside and throwing me under the bus. No doubt he’s angling for a fancier title and my corner office.
But I stifled my complaints….biding my time. There will be payback … maybe I will send the IRS a bogus 1099 from “UCTMW Enterprises” in M’s name. Let the WC explain that one to his accountant.
“No doubt he’s right, Mistress.”
“Why don’t you finish up soon down here Slave, and meet me in our bedroom.”
She went back upstairs, still chatting with flirtatious animation to M….
I soon had one coat of dark green paint on the door, and put my supplies away. After washing up, I headed upstairs, where Mistress, done with her talk, soon joined me.
“Get out my supplies, Slave.”
I knew exactly what she meant. The strap-on and its faux cock. The lube.
“And make sure you get me the riding crop too….”
I laid her supplies on the bed. She snapped a photo of the crop, and texted it off to M, letting him in on what was to come. No doubt he would be amused that the seed he had planted would soon be sprouting.
I did not have to ask whether to strip off my pants and underwear, as Mistress slid into her harness. Soon she was ready for action, riding crop in hand.
”On your stomach Slave…. And be still….”
Of course, I complied, but asked, “and why am I being punished, Mistress….”
“You know why….”
The first blow landed with a stinging surprise.
Yow.
“I am not sure, Mistress….”
Dumb move.
Two more had me squirming, trying to suppress my verbal complaints by chomping on a pillow.
“You were a real ass-hole twice this week, Slave….”
Yes. True. Two drives to work where Mistress had to tell me to “stifle”.
Are we sounding like Archie and Edith here? But with the roles reversed? Could be.
After the fourth blow, I was more than ready to admit my sins. But the blows kept raining down, and they sure hurt.
Damn they hurt.
Unrestrained, I could not avoid rolling over and away at one point, to avoid the crop that Mistress was wielding so effectively. But her stern look made me realize that would only extend the punishment. So I sucked it up and submitted….
It’s at moments like these that I wish I had more padding back there.
But, at last, Mistress relented.
Sitting next to me and running her warm, now merciful hands along my ass. The fire was already receding, but she oohed and ahhed a bit.
“Oh my…. What nice red welts you have, Slave….”
She reached for her I-phone, snapped a photo, fiddled with her keyboard. I’m not sure if one went to M, but one went to my email account. I was instructed to show it to you all today….
Then she handed me the lube after applying a generous amount to her “cock”.
“Are you ready for the next part, Slave.”
I was. This would be a picnic, compared to that crop.
She found her little target with no difficulty, then began pumping home.
I have a feeling that her warm up act -the process of making me writhe in pain for her, all my exclamations of agony - actually may have enhanced her own … arousal.
Because it was really only a matter of about 90 seconds… at least so it seemed …. Before she was coming hard and long with against my ass with those tell-tale spasms of ecstasy.
“Wow, Mistress…. I think you liked that….”
“Yes…. I did Slave…. Very satisfying….”
She was sliding out of me now, dropping her harness onto the floor for me to clean up and pack away afterwards….
“Why don’t you go insert your little device, and get back here and fuck me….”
I did not have to think twice about toeing that particular line.
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: 
