Mr. Maserati and Kidney Bean Update!

from peewee intrepid UK blog correspondent with my responses italicized....

So, go on - put me out of my misery.... was Nicki's bloke a 'date' or a 'slave' in the end. I'm going for 'date' by the way.

Well, Mr. Maserati turned out to be a gentleman, and the first encounter, my sister reports, was very traditional date-like, in that they went to dinner and he wanted to hear her life story and share his with her. There was no hanky panky (dammit!), not even kissy-kissy (dammit again!) and he asked to see her this weekend for another date! The only thing Nicki is sure of at this point is that he does have money and that he is cute and smart. Her slave-dar needs to be re-calibrated! She couldn't even pick up if he was submissive. But then again, he could have put on his best poker face and not let her penetrate the depths of his potential servitude, yet. We shall see. But as for the winners of the first DATE or SLAVE contest, peewee and Ember win! Which means Ember doesn't have to pay for drinks the next time we go out. Sorry peewee, since you aren't in the area, we can't slide you any free libation sensations, but next time you 'tip the elbow', it's on us!

And what about kidney bean? Have you enslaved him completely yet or is he trying to escape your grasp? I bet he loved kissing your boots Empress Sara. It's great that truly hot girls, when they crank up the dominance, can inspire this kind of servitude amongst certain men isn't it. I know for a fact I'd do anything you told me and I've never even met you! I fear taking it to any next level because my addiction and devotion and submission to you is already absolute. Catastrophe is the next step!!! Haha! But if I lived near, and worked with you then I would just fall at your feet forever. I suspect kidney bean is about to experience similar feelings!

Right you are peewee, kidney bean is trying to escape my grasp on his complete tailspin into enslavement! He believes, as most younger doctors do, that they have god-like powers and are god's gift to women. This is reinforced every day they go to work, where not only nurses, but also female patients flirt with them. These subtle or not-so-subtle golddiggers are just dreaming of hitting the Doctor Lottery. In our un-socialized health care system, some docs can rake in the bucks. Plus being a doctor's wife, carries some cache in our society.

I imagine kidney bean is making well over $200K in his burgeoning specialty and especially given the aging population in SoFlo. But what he needs to realize is that with me, there will be no traditional dates. There will be hanky panky; however, just not the type he would like to engage in! Yes, there will be more boot-kissing. But he vetoed the chastity device. However, on weekends where he's not on call, I told him I see no reason why he can't be cock-locked. He said it's because that's when he plays the most, he loves 'outdoor adventures' and other pursuits where he couldn't possibly have his member in an uncomfortable cage, or so he claims. We shall see. He is taking me to dinner this weekend and he's begging for a movie. And I shall use all my dominant wiles to steer his devotion my way!

Mr. Maserati!

Nicki reports that she has a date tonite. Altho she is not sure, if by the end of the date, she will be in bed with the guy or if he will be her slave.... hmmm I detect a package check coming up! Nicki was out jogging earlier in the week in her nabe (neighborhood) and a car slowed down, she thought it was a Ferrari or Lamborghini, the cute driver chatted her up a bit. Turns out he lives in the same nabe, is available (divorced) and owns a security company. Later, a flower delivery arrived at the place she's living at, with the corniest of corn syrupy sickly sweet notecards: You Made My Day! (plus his cell phone number) So the wind-up is they are going out tonite and that it was a Maserati, duh Nicki, learn your Italian sportscars! But at least it wasn't a red Maserati, so there is hope for the outcome of the date. I alerted my gf's that we must make bets on DATE or SLAVE! The texts are coming in fast and furious. SLAVE is winning! Ember is holding out for DATE! Ember?? Who runs a Loser Dating Service?? Maybe she just thinks all dates are slaves!!!

Remote Control

Danny told me he wants to try out being dominated. "Try out" was the exact way he put it. I think it means he just wants to appeal to me somehow, because I refuse to be in his harem. So I agreed and have an evil plan in mind. I'm going to tie him up to his bed, then leave with a few credit cards from his wallet. Go shopping for about an hour. Return with remote control vibrating buttplug (pre-purchased, the sexstore is too far away to get it PDQ) and Nicole, who has agreed to play. Insert buttplug, leave bedroom, mix drinks (he has a well-stocked bar for parties at his place) and play with the remote control, up down up down. Yell from bar area, how does that feel bitch! Then take turns for tongue rides. Jerk him off. Put his credit cards back in his wallet, remove cash. Untie his wrists, but not his legs. Leave.

Tiger's Fall-out

As some of my blog readers know, I have an on-again off-again thing with Danny-boy, who has a sports marketing firm, its specialty? Endorsements for golfers. He's not at the Tiger Woods or top player level by any means, but the fall-out of the Tiger Woods situation is that with potentially less viewers for the televised events if Tiger isn't playing and / or a big drop in interest in the sport if Tiger isn't playing, means that there will be potentially lower revenues, lower purses and lesser endorsements. So he's in panic mode, fearing a huge drop in what he can secure for his clients as far as endorsement deals. I had dinner with him tonite and he was clearly stressed out. When a sport relies so heavily on one superstar, if the shine gets tarnished on that star, the repurcussions are seismic, closest to the epicenter, radiating outward, diminishing in strength, but still palpable.

As I've mentioned before, Danny would be closer to my heart and pussy, if he weren't such a man-whore. But he did give me 4 boxes of golf balls, and some golf towels to give to my Dad for Xmas! Scratch another name off my Xmas list.

P.S. And scratch another name off my list as Danny also hooked me up with some tennis swag for my sister for Xmas!

upDATE

All of you have been asking what happened with my dinner date. We ate. We drank. We convo'd. He wanted me to go out clubbing after, but I had already pre-empted this. I had told him in advance I was planning to work. He knows about my tele-domination. He knows about my real time domination. He is amused by this. He is immune to this. He tried to twist my arm. I stood my ground. I could have sacrificed a nite on Niteflirt to go clubbing with him. But the dance, the strange dance as I've called it, well, the choreography requires that I lead. I think he knows that now. But he did grab me and try to convince me otherwise with a way wet 'n' wild smoocheroo right outside the restaurant. And I detected a large package, which was not a surprise as my sister had reported his bro was very hung.

I went home horny and planned to play with myself between calls. But I had long calls. Then a flurry of shorter ones. And Danny even called a few times pretending to want to be dommed. He was referring to specific Niteflirt listings. I have a little dick. Make me gay. Hmmmm. I hadn't revealed my Niteflirt details yet. Found your blog, he said. Which one, I said. Red car, he said. I had told him about that blog, but not the URL, guess it was easy enough to figure out. His car is silver. He was still out, and a little blitzed. He wanted to know if I would join him for a late nite drink. Meet me, com'n. I was soooo tempted, but I was tired and horny and wanted to use my Big O to head off to dreamland. But he keeps calling. Has booked another dinner. Wants to see a movie with me. Apparently, resisting his charms has its' benefits.