Shift Change at the Yurt

I suppose I was a little whiny yesterday about Mistress's 24 hour absence. We woke after sleeping in a little later than normal, and I made sure to enjoy my wake up sex privileges after the deferred gratification of the prior 36 hours or so. Plus I knew we'd be getting home a little later than normal from work on Thursday.

"Francois's invited me to go with him to some sort of social gathering for European Ex-Pats over in the adjoining village, Slave.... do you mind?"

"Well,  there's no need to ask permission.... but I certainly don't mind Mistress....we could be here a while so why pass up a good networking opportunity?"

"That's true Slave...."

"Plus it might be fun to go out on a 'date' with Francois.... I'm sure he'll be good company."

After work I had dinner with an Ex-Pat myself, at  a local dive just down the street from our "Court house". He's an Irishman who seemed to be on the lam himself, with some mysterious explanation related to "The Troubles". He was good company and we shared some "Red Breast" Irish Whiskey and talked about old times and departed friends.

At around 7:30 or so, as  we were wrapping up,  I got a call on my satellite phone from Mistress.  "We're heading back to the Yurt now, Slave.... Francois is going to stop by for a while.... so don't be long."

Well, I suspected that Mistress might get a little action in our Chef and IT Specialists hands, so lingered a bit, giving them some space, before I hopped on my Yak to cross the pass to our little valley. As I crested a hill, there was our little home away from home, all lit up, with Francois's Yak grazing in the "driveway".  So it seemed Mistress's "date" wasn't over just yet.

So how do you enter your own home, knowing that your Mistress / Wife might be "in the arms of another man"?

Gingerly. 

I mean you don't want to be loud and rude in a "honey, I'm home" sort of way and disturb them at an important moment.  But you don't want to sneak up on them either. 

I elected to quietly slide into the door and make just enough getting home late from the office sounds so as to not be accused of being a creepy voyeur. 

The plan worked. Mistress called out within a few seconds....

"Slave.... is that you?  Come on in...."

I stuck my head into our sleeping alcove to find Mistress lying, naked in our bed, a small fur pulled  strategically over some of her clean shaven folds, the glow of candle light bathing her smiling if a little stuporous face.  Francois was out of the bed, pulling on his rather colorful boxers.

"It's about time. We were just about to text you Slave.... it's time for you to take over and finish things up here...." he said with that sly Euro-Trash smile.

"I think I can handle clean up duties...."

I showed Francois to the tent flap, exchanging pleasantries, then returned to my Mistress.

"So how was that, Mistress?"

"Good Slave.....it WAS sort of like a date."

She talked about some of the folks she had met.  "He kept saying I was his Mistress.... and I kept looking at him like he was crazy." 

"That's probably how Herman Cain got in trouble."

By now, Slave had stripped away his work cloths.

"Have you had enough, Mistress?"

"No Slave, now I need my cock.... but go put in your device first (my aneros).... I want it particularly hard."

"Of course, Mistress."

She proceeded to fullfill that promise, using those recently manicured fingers and her warm mouth to sculpt it to her liking, then elected to ride it to a few of those nice moaning cums I enjoy so much.

"So how many with Francois, Mistress?"

"I'd say four, Slave...."

"And did he make you beg?"

"Of course..... that's the rule...."

By then Mistress was all tuckered out.... I mean she'd had to endure so many orgasms over the course of an hour or so.  But she did let me finish off on top of her, if only to balance the fun.

"It looks like I got back just in time, Mistress.... other wise who would have been able to fill in at the shift change."

"I agree, Slave.... just in time delivery is a very efficient way to operate."

Your Boyfriend's In Your / Our Bedroom

Molly and Mick had yet another “productive” day here in the High Desert, which is beginning to feel all the more like home. Left to our own devices, we’d move here at the drop of a hat. But there are still two lonely cats at home, and daughters to get through college, so at some point we will gas up the UCTMW mobile unit and head back to River City.

But in the meantime…. Our day began with some early morning wake up sex, then a trip to the local farmers market and grocery store to stock up on provisions for a dinner we are hosting tonight for some local friends, as well as a couple from River City driving through this neck of the woods.

After re-stocking the larder, we took our daily bike ride, in weather that is a little damper and cooler than typical this time of year. Bracing was the best way to describe it. So it made sense of us to take a warm shower afterwards. In the shower one thing led to another (actually it was the tight grip Mistress had on my cock that led us back to bed).

I worshipped her with my usual devotion, and she returned the favor by a long and frustrating tease of my cock with those well manicured fingers. Fortunately, she ultimately succumbed to my begging for permission to fuck her.

After all, she is a very kind Mistress.

After a little post-orgasmic snooze, we were back to an afternoon (and later an evening) at the final day of the Big Barn Dance.  As a nearly full moon rose over the Mountains, the  chairs were cleared off what amounted to an old high school basketball floor, laid down under a big damn tent, and the locals and visitors were all twirling and whirling on one big counter clockwise promonade to the waltzes and western swing music performed by an all-star cast of pickers, fiddlers and crooners.

It was a sight to behold. Although Molly and Mick got a little dizzy trying to keep up with the more accomplished dancers. With us on the floor it amounted to an elaborate game of bumper cars, set to a C&W soundtrack.

Which gets me back to the title of today’s “essay”. One of the artists we saw was Chick Cannon, a singer / songwriter from Nashville. He has a voice that channels Leon Russell, and a collection of clever songs that border on gospel.

One if his songs is "Boyfriend” (listen with the link). The gist is “Your boyfriend’s in your bedroom”, but, alas, the lady in question is lusting after another man, and trying to come up with a way to get the boyfriend out of her bedroom. It is a sort of  gender reversed “50 ways to leave your lover.”

The other day, Suzanne over at All Mine had a thoughtful entry on when and how jealousy raises its head in a cuckold relationship, that got an interesting variety of comments. Make sure you read it if you haven't yet had the chance. 

Suzanne, Tammy and Jay seem to keep it all together ( of course ,with some help from Suzanne’s crackerjack domineering babysitting crew), but even in their idyllic polyamorous household, one senses that Tammy can get a little twinge of jealousy on occasion. Her wife seems to monitor and respond as called for to keep him comfortable, and part of the team.

After listening to all these country songs for the last few days, one realizes how “out there” we are from "red state" America when it comes to inviting another person into our bedroom. There are songs of vengeful jealousy (Ray Wylie Cyrus’s narrator deploys a switchblade on a honky-tonk dance floor in one sad “I deserve to be in prison but don’t regret what I did to get here” ditty). And there are quite a few wallow in my misery over the girl who left me tunes (“You’ve got a Lover and It’s Not Me”, by Shake Russell comes to mind).

But I can’t recall any celebratory songs along the lines of “It Turns Me on When that Cowboy Slides His Hand Up Your Thigh On the Dance Floor, Honey”.

And yet…. Old Mick can’t deny that Mistress’s adventures over the last two years haven’t thrown some fuel on our mutual fires. It's just a kink that Nashville has somehow avoided, maybe the equivalent of the third rail for the music industry.

We discussed the subject of our dabbling in the cuckold kink a tad last night as we watched the dancers twirl, skirts flaring, and boots scuffing across the floor.

“All this other stuff just reminds me how strong our relationship is, Slave….”

I agree Mistress…. It only works when there’s a whole lot of trust and security…. And we’ve got that.”

In spades.

Is it too late to start writing and pitching songs with a cuckold twist? Maybe the Dixie Chicks could record, “He’s My Clean Up Man”,  or “Better Knock First, (Before You Come to Bed, Honey)”, or something along those lines?

Out-Takes

One cheap and easy way to fill up a Tuesday morning blog is with some leftover switch day shots of my beloved Mistress. 

With our “overtime” activities here on Tuesday morning, “defiling” our far away teen’s room and bed, as Mistress put it, I had plenty of opportunity for photo-op breaks, and it seems unfair not to share them with you all, doesn’t it?

In the meantime, Slave is getting re-accustomed to the daily cage routine. Up in the am early for blogging, I’ve remembered to grab the steel ring that anchor the cage. While my coffee is brewing, I get to work smushing my balls and then my cock through the tight steel band.

Ouch.

At least it’s easier on a warm summer morning than in the cold of winter. (I think our male readers will understand why).

And then, when I go upstairs, Mistress gropes a bit, to make sure the ring is in place, and will help deliver a particularly hard cock for our morning wake-up sex.

Yesterday, after she closed the lock to secure her cock, I was off to work, and Mistress had some meetings of her own to attend.

But fortunately, she was downtown later in the afternoon and stopped by for a  little worship. Having the taste of those addictive juices on my mouth and cheeks for the rest of the afternoon certainly made me look forward to the end of the workday, when I might get sprung loose from that cage if Mistress was in an indulgent mood.

AS it turned out, she was, though there was another round of worship before the key came out.

We went for a bike ride. Mistress took 30 minutes of lap time at the neighborhood pool, and then it was home where Slave grilled some trout for our later than usual dinner together. (It’s so very nice not to have sullen teens nagging “what’s for dinner… and complaining when the answer is “fish”).

Over dinner we discussed the comments that Suffolk.sinner made questioning this whole cuckold thing. He seems focused on the old goosey / gander rule. If Mistress gets to “fool around”, shouldn’t her Slave?  Of course, this ignores the whole D/s power dynamic.

Mistress expresses a little disbelief from time to time, that there aren’t any other women who attract my eye. And of course, if I see an attractive woman on the street, or at a social event, even Slave can’t resist a visual appreciation.

But do I want to do anything about it?

Absolutely not.

Mistress brought this topic up with Francois, who discussed it with her yesterday.

“He says the cuckold mentality means that when I “stray” and tell you about it, you will be even more devoted to me, and even less inclined to cheat  … is that right?”

“He seems to  get it, Mistress….”

Of course, if Mistress required me to serve one of her friends, like Suzanne has arranged for Tammy from time to time, over at All Mine, well that would be a different story, wouldn’t it?

I live to serve.

Switch Day Meets Empty Nest

Before I get into our after action report from a very eventful switch day, I wanted to call attention to and respond to a long comment made by Suffolk.sinner yesterday afternoon.

He seems troubled by our cuckold dynamics here, and can’t understand why if its not ok for this “gander” to play the field, why Mistress should be entitled to her own “indiscretions”.

Suffice it to say that Slave got in trouble when he concealed his extra-marital activities several years back. The deceit opened up a deep wound in our marriage. And as we struggled to work our way back to a trusting relationship, we stumbled into the world of D/s.

I discovered that the idea of turning my sexual freedom to Mistress was not only a way to make her feel more secure, but also a BIG and surprising turn on for me. 

The contract developed from there, as a fun way to formalize things between us.  It’s a little over the top, but I don’t fear that Mistress will take advantage of her rights TOO often.

As for the cuckold thing? I addressed that in an earlier posting that may be worth reviewing if you are curious about our theories on that particular kink. Under Contract to My Wi#1854AD1.

On our bike ride yesterday, Mistress asked me whether I missed the “freedom” she had under our contract. 

“Actually, I haven’t had any problems with it Mistress. No one’s come knocking on my door, making herself available. I don’t think I’m sending off those “available” signals any more…. But I’ll let you know….”

“Would you really, Slave?”

“Sure…. Who needs all that sneaking around stuff.”

Well, enough of all this philosophizing, let’s get back to the sexy stuff….

So here we are, kids flown the coop, and a full set of switch day options available.

It was almost too hard to choose.

After Mistress read the blog, as I worked her into a steamy arousal with my tongue, I made it clear that she would have to work for her orgasms.

“Stopping now, Slave?… you were just getting to the good part….”

I reached into our bedside table, retrieving her red cuffs, locking them on her then linking her hands behind her back.  They match her red nail polish so nicely, don’t you think?

I also attached some black leather cuffs to her ankles.

“What’s nice about these cuffs is that you can wear them around the house through the day, Mistress.”

“Oh…. Really….”

“Maybe even on our bike ride.  I doubt anyone would notice.”

“Oh… Slave…you wouldn’t…. would you?”

I left the question unanswered, helped Mistress to her feet, and guided her down the hall to the now vacant room of a sullen teen.

You may be amused to learn that her room, and bed, are bigger than her parents. She has a queen. We have a double.

But the nicest part about this now unspoken for bed is that it is of the 4 poster type, with very convenient lashing points.

“This would drive her crazy, Slave.”

“True, she usually bars us from her ‘space’ …. But now she’s far away across the pond…. Tough nuggies.”

Soon Mistress found her self spread eagled, face down on the bed.

I let her languish a bit as I went back to our room for a few more tools. A riding crop. My  camera, and the Hitachi too.

Mistress “enjoyed” quite a few strokes from the crop, interrupted by my stroking and probing fingers.

“Your ass is looking quite red, Mistress…. I hope Francois does not mind.”

“Hmmm…. He’s not had any objections to switch day, at least not yet.”

It was about then that I plugged in the Hitachi, sliding it ever so closely to the promised land between Mistress’s spread thighs.

“Ummmm…. Nice … Slave….. but could you move it a little…. Closer….under….”

She was wriggling as best she could, but I was not going to make it easier for her. Instead, I reached for the crop again, trying to match the blows with the rise and fall of her ass as she tried to match her “sweet spot” with the business end of her favorite power tool.

“This is so mean, Slave…. it’s driving be crazy….”

I tried to “help”, wedging it a little more closely to her clean shaven folds, then stepped back, taking a seat on a chair across the room to admire Mistress’s gyrations at my leisure.

She looked over at me, noticing the rigid cock in my hand, as her hips bounced up and down, trying to get the pulsations that eluded her.

“Slave…. what are you doing?”

“Ohh, just enjoying the show, Mistress…. You look so hot over there, all tied up and frustrated, that I could probably just come like this…..”

“You wouldn’t dare…. Would you?”

I don’t think she was sure.  But it didn’t slow her frustrated gyrations, as her hips pounded up and down on the bed, her arms and legs straining against their bindings.

At moments like these, it would be nice if I knew how to operate the video function on that camera. But here is a still photo from my vantage point. (Sorry for the stuffed animal in the background).

“It would seem like a waste, come to think of it, Mistress.”

But Slave is merciful, of only because the tables can so easily be turned here at the UCTMW World HQ.

Soon I was back at her side, taking the Hitachi in hand, and guiding it manually where I knew it would have it’s highest and best use.

And soon thereafter Mistress was quaking and shaking through a primo cum.

When the aftershocks finally subsided, I flipped off the switch, but also noted the error of her ways.

‘You forgot to ask permission, Mistress…. There will be consequences.”

“Just fuck me, Slave….”

So I did, sliding in from behind, pumping into her slowly at first, then with more gusto, bringing her to another cum as she moaned her release into the pillows under her head.

But we were not done just yet.

I released her for a moment, only to flip her over, and re-restrain her, face up this time.

And then I reapplied the Hitachi treatment.

At least she remembered to ask permission the second time around.

Mistress Addresses Some New Developments

On day two of our Empty Nest days, Mistress and her devoted Slave rested. 

After some leisurely wake up sex, there was a civic engagement in the morning. We saw lots of family, friends and a handful of local politicians. So of them are already thinking of ways they can “book us” for their amusement or support now that we’ve driven our children off. 

We were very non-commital.

Slave mowed the lawn, and did some other “outdoor slave” jobs. We went for a bike ride. Mistress did some laps at the local pool, while Slave read the Times.

Then we were back home. A nice afternoon nap, followed by… well, what did you expect.

“It’s almost like we’re on vacation, Mistress. But we are just at home.”

“True, Slave.”

We were even too lazy to go out to the movies, instead finding an obscure Woody Allen movie, Alice,  from about 1990 that somehow we had missed. It was during those “Molly and Mick secretly dating years”. And neither of our spouses were as deeply into Woody as we were / are. So there was the young, charmingly coy Mia Farrow. William Hurt. Bernadette Peters.  We sipped our wine, shared a little picnic, and relished in our new found independence.

And with Mistress’s legs splayed wide on the couch next to me, tie-dye dress hiked to her hips, skimpy semi-transparent black panties barely cloking her clean shaven folds and their intoxicating aroma, Slave could not help fingering her to another mid-evening cum as we watched the goofy but romantic plot line unfold.

Yesterday we did get an interesting question from a commenter from across the pond (I guess I am assuming that the Suffolk he’s referring to is in England, not Suffolk Co., NY ).

The question was whether Mistress’s extracurricular activities are limited to “phone sex”. 

In fact, our contract allows her free sexual range. It seemed only fair at the time it was drafted, since Slave had committed his own indiscretion. And then, even as we were writing it up, the notion of Mistress exercising her contractual rights in that way was discovered to be a turn on for both of us. 

 (There is a link to our contract to the right of this post).

That little fizz of arousal came before Slave even understood that there was a whole cult of cuckold out there, as exemplified by the goings on over at ALL Mine, and elsewhere.

Mistress suggested I write a little about why this notion seems to get her Slave going. And it’s elusive to articulate.

If submission is a turn on for me and others, I suppose it makes sense that surrendering the monopoly over one’s spouse is the ultimate act of submission. And therefore the ultimate submissive sexual accelerant.

Setting aside the submission kink, I do like to see Mistress happy and fulfilled. And horny. It seems to give her a little extra sexual glow when  another man has the hots for her.  Who can blame her?  That glow always seems to inure to my benefit, since she seems all the more eager to exploit her readily available “work-a-day” cock.

As it has turned out, Mistress has only previously exercised her rights with one other person. After a few encounters, she decided that he did not have what it took to make for a long term part of her world. But she's been open to possibilities, and has also had some tantalizing long distance encounters with our WC.

After we discussed the question that had been posed, and Mistress asked me to address it, she also decided to write a few paragraphs herself on recent developments here at UCTMW:

Molly’s POV

To take a page from our buddies at All Mine,  I determined that it’s time for me to have a few words. I know that we have created quite a mystery over here. Permit me to fill in a few blanks.

Yes, our two darling daughters are now gone and while we miss them, the quiet is needed. I have raised children for 19 year’s, Mick for a collective 34 (you heard right). I have always worshiped the ground he walks on, but I know how tired I am from the small amount of 19 years.

Our home is peaceful and we can be naked all day. This will help with our environmental efforts to save water, as we will have fewer clothes to clean. My mom does live one mile away, but always phones prior to arrival and she is busier than we are so not worried about the drop in.

Yes, WC is still part of the empire and we are very much friends. The relationship with WC continues, but in a nonsexual way. Why? Candidly, it’s been the collective decision of all involved. Be decent to the WC, he is important to us friends.

Onto Francois.

Gang, I am not going to predict anything here. He and I have connected and seem to find one another interesting.  Mick and I have had some false starts in the part-time Dom search, so none of us can anticipate where this is headed. Just know though that we are all open to whatever happens.  I am lucky to have a slave who wants me to be so happy.

Our goal at Under Contract (contrary to the corporate type rag we pretend to me) is to take life day by day and to be happy. I, for one, have tired of angst and worry. “The times they are a changing.”

Love

Molly

More Cage Time for Slave on Horizon

Mistress has been sucked into one of those macho River City ritual’s today…. The 7:30 am breakfast meeting. It was invented by guys of a certain generation who like to nurture the impression that their schedules are so invaluable that it can not be heard of that they would arrive at their offices to take charge of the helm any earlier than 8:30 am. So as a result, any time spent on civic activities or professional “catching up” must be commence no later than 7:30 or so.

(This also leaves time for afternoons on the golf course, or a lunch time work-out at some all male athletic club. This also assumes you have a “good wife” at home tending to the domestic chores of sending the little tikes off to school, and that one never would think about “wake up” sex with that wife that might slow you down on the way out the door).

This is a too long lead in to the fact that I’m up early and have a short window for blogging, because I’ll be driving mistress this morning to her breakfast engagement.

I was happy to do the driving, because it means a day off from cage time. Our rule has been that Slave is in his cage when we drive separately. And Mistress’s work arrangements have changed recently so that our regular drives to work may well be a thing of the past.

“You know Save, I’m going to miss our driving to work more than anything …. But this also means you are going to have to get used to wearing that cage again on a moe regular basis.

Yesterday seemed like a start to that. She had the benefit of my hard cock for wake up sex, already contained by that steel ring that forms the base of my cage, surrounding my cock and balls.

Then, after my shower, as she lolled in bed a little longer, sending off some emails, I presented myself with the cage in place and she shut the lock with a little faux sympathetic smile.

“Does that make you feel more secure, Mistress.”

“Definitely, Slave.”

As it turned out, Mistress had to be downtown for a lunch meeting, and I even saw her briefly on our square as I ate a sandwich and she was heading to meet her lunch partner.

“I’ll stop by your office when I’m done, Slave….”

Of course, I knew what that meant. And was happy to greet her when she arrived, closing the door and pushing the chair into place for a little “dessert”.

Yum. 

It had been a while since I’d had a chance for some lunch time worship.

Afterwards she shared an interesting development.

Our regular readers may recall that a few weeks ago I mentioned that Mistress had been solicited over Collar Me by an interesting gentleman of European background who took an interest in her posting for a “part time Dom”.

They had chatted a bit, but then he left the country for a few weeks for some exotic vacation.

He’s back.

He and Mistress have been exchanging some provocative text messages over those weeks.

And they both realized in some exchanges yesterday morning that they’d be downtown.

We’ve not picked a blog name for him yet, so let’s just call him A for now.

“So Slave…. A’s down here today …. At his business. And he suggested maybe I walk down and say hello.”

I raised an eyebrow. 

“Sounds intriguing, Mistress….”

She told me the address, asking for some directions. And, dutiful slave that I am, I offered to walk her down the street for her little meet.

As we strolled in the mid afternoon sun, hand in hand, she gave me that look.

“Are you OK with this Slave?”

“Of course, Mistress…..”

She is very considerate about all this for her Slave….

Soon we were at her destination, just two short blocks from my office.

“Well Slave…. here we are…. Maybe you should go back now. It might be a little awkward if you showed up too.”

“No problem Mistress….”

Well I hear Mistress up now, and I’d better hop in the shower with her. I guess we will have to continue this little adventure later.

Mistress Gets a Morning Work-Out

At least Mistress got back into a proper sexual groove yesterday, on our third day back to the grindstone here in River City.

And consider my general slacker-liness, Slave can’t complain either.

I had spent all day Wednesday in my cage, a nice reminder of my status around here. Then, after what Suzanne aptly dubbed the “Last Supper”, 14 extended family members, most of whom arrived fashionably late after I rushed home to prepare them the meal they apparently expected from us, I barely had the energy left to ask Mistress to unlock that little sucker.

By the morning I was sufficiently revived, and horny, so as to exploit my “morning fuck” privileges. And since M was unclear on any pre-training session embargo for Mistress, I made sure she had a couple of acceptable cums too.

Then I was off to work, while Mistress took a morning bike ride and awaited her call from our WC/PTTTCEO.

At about 10:45 I got the call from Mistress for her brief report on how that training session went. But, sadly, I was with the family member who was on the lam from trembling Tokyo, helping her with some financial planning. So I had to discretely suggest to Mistress that she might want to wait a little while before her taunt …. Errr… report.

Later, as I was heading back up the elevator to my perch, I got through to Mistress. She seemed relaxed and satisfied.

“So how many, Mistress….”

“Ohhh. Three or four, Slave.”

“Good…. I know I’ve been a little dull this week. Glad to hear that M is picking up some of the slack.  And did he get off too?”

“Yes, Slave…. He did.”

I know that always is a special treat for Mistress, knowing that the sexual energy is running both ways across the phone signals during those intimate little training sessions.

At the end of the day, Slave was pretty burnt out again. Mistress did shame me into a bike ride with her, after she and the surly teens returned from their manicure / pedicure session.

(I think I had fallen asleep listening to Chris Matthews drone on about the government shut-down machinations. I’m having trouble understanding how folks who can’t pass a budget on time can treat themselves to paychecks while other folks doing their jobs get stiffed, but I digress).

After we fed the girls, it was up to our chambers. I settled in with my Times, and Mistress discovered a text from M.

“Do you mind if I give him a call, Slave.”

“Of course not, Mistress….”

I laid there next to Mistress as the chatted a bit, exchanging a little re-cap on the hot-ness of their morning encounter.  And I was feeling a little guilty that I had not offered to worship yet, at the end of the day.  Bt after they hung up, I made up for it.

Mistress was in a cute nightie, sans bottoms.

“Mistress, we may be too exhausted for regular sex this morning, but can I at least have a taste?”

“Why of course, Slave…. “

She generously spread her legs a bit for me, as I buried myself there enjoying her sweet nectar.  I savored slowly, filling my lips with her tender folds, sipping so to speak from this lovely nightcap of a cocktail.

And although I may not have started with the intent of taking my Mistress to a good-night climax, well that’s where we ended up, as she shuddered and let loose a gentle moan in response to my attention.

Slave is finally feeling a bit revived after a good night’s sleep. So I think I’d better shut down here and head upstairs to finish the job I started last night.

Move On. Nothing to See Here.

Mistress is off, running footloose and fancy free in the big city.  Meanwhile, her devoted Slave is on lockdown, here in our little backwater on the River.

And Cage week continues. It’s not nearly as much fun as “Ass Week”, is it?

It was an early rise here.

Molly had a client presentation before heading to the airport. I made sure she had a pleasing little shower cum, sliding my fingers through those wet folds as the warm water ran down both of us. Then she got another bonus cum, from avid lips and tongue, as she moisturized and read the blog.

But, alas, there was no time for fucking.

“Glad you remembered to put the ring on, Slave….”

After I slid the cage in place, mating it with the ring, she snapped the little lock shut.

Then she hid away the key.

At around 11:30 am, Mistress did have a chance to stop by the office for some worship and a quick lunch before she was on her way.

WC,  you will be surprised to learn she has her tricked out tights on for her trip.

Of course, that made worship rather easy for me. All she needed to do was sit down and spread those lovely, muscular thighs. 

But I wondered what she might be up to in the Big City.

So accessible.

So available.

AS I did my work, Mistress snapped a photo of her boots stretched over my shoulders.

And then she surprised me.

“Stay there Slave…. And lower your pants. I want to see the cage….”

Did she think I had played Houdini on her? After all, she hid the key.

I loosened my belt. Dropped Trou.

“Underwear down too, Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Without any warning, if only to allow some gut sucking, she snapped another shot.

“I want to see this on the blog tomorrow, Slave…..”

Gulp.

Not the sort of alluring imagery our readers are accustomed to. Not at all.

But who was I too say “no”.

“Of course, Mistress.”

So there you have me…. errr …. It.

If I knew this was going to be a photo shoot, I would have done some “man-scaping”, as the little bald dork on Californication would put it.

As she waited for her plane, Mistress did share a funny little story.

Our Western Correspondent had directed Mistress to bring along her trusty Hitachi. No doubt they plan some important conference calls to discuss UCTMW’s bold expansion strategy while she is on the road.

But Mistress had only brought a carry on.

“They opened my bag, Slave.  Asked If I had something big and cylindrical in there….”

It turned out that what they were looking  for was an aerosol can.

But “There was my Hitachi, for everyone to see….it was kind of embarrassing, Slave.”

Awww.

Poor Mistress.

In the meantime, Slave is home. Still on lockdown. And have discovered new things about the physics of a hard tight steel ring locked around the male testes and penis.

When the temperature is in the teens…. Things can get a little ouchy.

The natural response to cold weather is for those little ovoid guys to beat a hasty retreat into those warm cavities just above. Supposedly those little shelters keep your sperm nice and warm in the event they need to be mobilized at the drop of an available woman’s panties.

But when there is a hard steel ring in the way…. well …. Things don’t go the way nature intended.  Skin contracts, balls swell and press against the cruel steel barrier. When they can’t get through to their little hiding places, they get angry.

Youch.

The next time Mistress leaves town, let’s hope that spring has long since sprung.

Ass Week Can Have a Bottom SIde Too.

This brief counter-programming from the hype down on Dallas has built a little momentum.

Over at “Jumping On In”, SFP caught the spirit, with a cute little illustration dedicated to her “friend” D. SFP

When Mistress saw SFP's illustration she said, "I think her ass looks better than mine Slave." I was not taking sides, only commenting that both were excellent examples of the genre. This is not a competition! But of course Mistress knows how much I value hers.

And Tammy’s slender but well used ass caught a little extra attention from Suzanne’s strap-on over at ALL MIne.

Meanwhile, Slave’s butt got some attention on Wednesday that was a tad embarrassing.

I was at my Doctor’s office, which is affiliated with a large teaching hospital. As I am waiting in the examining room, my doctor sticks his head in, and asks if I would mind answering some of those typical screening questions by a 3rd year medical student he is training in the witchcraft of modern medical practice.

It’s happened before, and of course I had no problems with the concept.

Shortly thereafter in steps a rather tall female student, mid-20’s perhaps – not particularly alluring but clearly competent. We talked through her questions – all bland enough – my exercise habits, any complaints, medications, etc.

Soon my doctor joined us, flipping open his laptop, reviewing blood tests, and so on. All very pleasant.

Then the question that somehow I had forgot to antitcipate:

“Has it been 12 months since someone felt your prostate?”


Uhhhh……

Well, I mumbled out a “yes”, trying to put aside those Saturday ass fuckings that Mistress sometimes indulges me with. Or is she indulging herself?

“OK, well we’ll take care of that today…..”

Now I know many of our female readers are quite accustomed to intimate exams by male doctors.

But old Mick…. Never had to turn that particular table.

After following his instructions to strip to my undies and socks, He performed the preliminaries as his female student observed closely. The mouth and ears were examined. I did the breathing thing as he used that stethoscope. He had her feel my abdomen for some strange anomaly that went over my head.

Then it was time.

“OK, Mick, stand up and pull down your shorts. You can just lean over the table right here…..”

I was a big boy and complied.


I could hear the sound of the gloves snapping over someone’s fingers. But for the life of me, I could not tell which fingers were about to do their duty work on me.

“Now bear down.”

Of course, I am not unaccustomed to this sort of invasion. But the presence of this female student I had just had the pleasure of meeting was, shall we say, a tad humiliating.

“See, in here you can feel both sides…..”

His fingers were clearly the ones rooting away in there. A relief. And fortunately this little “show and tell” episode did not involve the student getting her own turn.

AS you can imagine, Mistress was amused when I shared this story.

“I guess you’re lucky I didn’t make you wear the cage today, Slave.”

Yeah, that might be a little hard to explain.

I did wear the cage yesterday though. Molly stayed home a bit longer Thursday, so she could squeeze in a date with M.

And last night, we had a reception for folks in my office, so we got home late, and a little tipsy.

As we lay there, catching up on the blogs, I asked Mistress how her date had gone.

“Oh it was nice, Slave.”

“How many, Mistress….”

“Probably 3 or 4. The WC was into all sorts of stories about what a spanking he would give me…. At home…. At a party in front of lots of people.”

“I see he’s gotten into the spirit of ass week too.”

“Yes… he says he’d give me a much crueler spanking than the wimpy ones you administer.”

“I guess that’s a challenge Mistress.”

But of course I kept my bluster to a minimum. Mistress still had not unlocked my cage.

Is this Just Another Sit-Com?

Thursday night, as Mistress, her Slave and our WC toyed with one another between episodes of The Office and Parks and Recreation, I realized that the primitive appeal of the network Sit-Com has a lot in common with what makes those of us in this little community keep coming back to each others’ blogs, day after day.

Whether it was Taxi, Seinfeld, Mary Tyler Moore, or the current more exotic crop of shows like Californication, the appeal of those silly confections is the same: a familiar, endearing, yet quirky cast of characters, doing what they do, week after week, year after year, with only a subtle change up, or new character thrown into the mix to extend the shelf life just a little longer.

After a while, characters like Sam Malone, Mary Richards, George Castanza and the rest become part of your extended “family”, imaginary as they may be. You develop a bit of an addiction to see what might happen to them next.


So what are we all doing here? (Actually, the better question is what are YOU all doing here?)

Here at UCTMW we really don’t do much every day that is all that different. Sex in the morning. A little afternoon worship. Occasional phone sex with the WC before bed, or over the weekend.

I try to throw a change-up every now and then. And there are often some cheesecake photos of the lovely Mistress to distract and amuse…..

But we are not inclined to a whole lot of self-analysis or introspection. What do you expect from an aging Irish guy who picked an Irish street fighter as his blog-o-sphere namesake? Navel gazing? No way.

Yet we still are getting more than 1000 page views everyday. More than 600 “unique” visitors stop by most days. And about 150 of you are repeat voyeurs daily.

I suspect what draws you here is a certain familiarity and comfort with our “characters”, despite a very thin plot line.

Will the WC recover from frozen cock syndrome?

Will Molly ever jump on a plane for a surprise visit to our Western office to conduct an audit of his expense account and inspect that Special occasion equipment?

Will someone ever try to open Mick’s office door just as Mistress is coming?


It’s not unlike wondering whether Lou Grant will ever make a pass at Mary Richards?

Or whether Sam will finally end up in bed with Diane?


We may well be the Burns and Allen of sex bloggers. But we are having fun, and our aim is to spread the good humour and kinky vibes to a broader audience.

And why do we follow you?

We are amazed by Tammy’s seemingly unlimited willingness to submit so completely to the demands of Suzanne, Jay and all those friends and relatives?

And we need to know whether Suzanne will end up being the subject of our Western Correspondent’s ass-fucking tutorial after the Super Bowl?

Over at “Jumping on In”, we follow SFP’s revolving cast of characters, which are taking on the quirky depth and variety of Jerry Sienfeld’s stable of dates.

And we wonder if Aisha will negotiate her way into the clutches of the mystery Dom who lives so far away.

Of course, one difference is the opportunity to comment, email, text and phone one another, that allows us to barge onto the pages of another little blog world and kibitz a bit. Our chance to meet Aisha and D, and visit their down river dungeon, was almost like Lou and Mary showing up on the set of “All in the Family”. Improbable, but lots of fun.

But enough of this over analysis. True to the spirit of this entry, I need to catch you up, if briefly on events here on the Collins family set.

First, Molly blushed a bit to all those lovely comments you left yesterday about her Ass. Yes, I feel like the comedian who holds one hand up to stop the applause, while the other hand is inviting more.

And at some point yesterday morning, she texted me about a specific comment.

“Sin wants to see that picture of you in the cock-cage. …We’ll see.” It’s on her phone, so it’s up to her to pass it on, folks. So far I have been spared.

And M and Mistress were tossing other photos back and forth via text and email during the day. It seems that M and his wife B dined at a restaurant in their hometown at lunchtime. When M described it to Molly, she passed on a photo of she and her Slave dining at the very same place in the summer of 2008.

Odd Serendipity.

After a trip to the gym at the end of the work day, Mistress and Slave had a “picnic” to catch up on the latest episode of “Big Love” (dark, very dark this season), then retired to bed.

Actually, Mistress retired first, as I cleaned our dishes. What else would a Slave do?

As I entered our bedroom, Mistress was under a blanket, naked. And on the phone.

“It’s M, Slave…. He asked me to call.”

“Would you like me to go downstairs and give you two lovebirds some privacy, Mistress?”

“No Slave…. Just get ready for bed.”

They chatted as I stripped down, then settled into bed next to her. I picked up my laptop to review your comments and to check out Suzanne’s weekend plans. Like her at the end of the day, Mistress was still a bit sweaty from our trip to the gym, and I planned to make sure she was tongued clean before bedtime.

Mistress and M talked about the comment he had left on our blog, asking UCTMW to treat him to the attentions of a $500/hr. massage therapist to bring that sad, frozen cock back to full health. I couldn’t resist making a comment.

“That’s higher than your hourly rate, Mistress….”

“M… the Slave says that’s too much … why don’t I just come out there and give you all the therapy you need…. And I could audit your expense account records while I am at it?”

At about this point, after leaving a few pithy comments on some of your blogs, I had to intervene. Setting aside the laptop, I settled in between Mistress’s tangy, salty thighs.

“He’s at it again, M…. what is a Mistress to do?”

But she hardly pushed me aside, and I could tell M had gotten with the program. Soon Mistress was cooing back at him with all those “Yes, M….. I would M……” phrases, that tell me she is getting into the “zone” with his highly skilled verbal assistance.

And I don’t need to tell you what happened next…..the bucking, moaning, the scissored legs squeezing my balding head. Clearly, two guys can do Mistress much better than one.

And once Mistress and M signed off, I received the dividend.

Hopefully, M got his own reward before the night was out.

And since this blog was a bit of a retrospective, I’ve added a photo above from the UCTMW annals that is a bit of a flashback, particularly for our Western Correspondent.

It appeared very early on these pages, back in  2009.

M says that when he saw it, he knew that Mick and Molly were in territory not too far from his own. Apparently it piqued an interest that led, step by step, to his current and ever evolving relationship with Mistress and UCTMW Enterprises.

Considering how long it took Diane to finally nail Sam Malone (or was it the reverse?), there is plenty of time to draw this little comedic soap opera out.