In The Midst of Chaos…Him

Other than the fact that it is still snowing off and on up here in the frozen north (I still have small bits of snow around the yard from Monday’s surprise storm~UGH~) things are not going badly.

I’m desperately overworking myself but *shrugs* it happens to all of us at some point in time, yes?

I barely have time to write Him each day as I’m up and out or up and running the household…but you make time for what’s important, and at least I can say Hi.

Except…somehow in the middle of this self-created chaos, there is Himself. A flurry of texts between us, escalating as our play time nears. He has been teasing me…just little jabs, really. About our meeting …in JULY. I know he’s joking, but it creates a little zinging repartee between us…

And it creates an eddy of need. A swirl of desire. I don’t know about you, but when I’m vanilla-swamped, I tend to lose my libido. Well, that, and the lingering depression about the winter that won’t end. I need outside time. I need my gardens. I need Him.

It’s like he throws an invisible line to me, wrapping it around me, so that I feel the tug of Him and his needs as clearly as if he’d spoken them. He doesn’t, mind you. It’s all mind-fuck and alluded to…but after alllllll these years, I know him, how he communicates, and can see him wrapping me up…but am helpless to stop it. Spider and fly, moth to flame, he snares me, pulls me outside the daily grind and makes me remember the hot, wet, slick spot between my thighs. He makes me forget my to-do list, and remember my wanting list.

Wanting to be fucked.

Wanting to be beaten.

Wanting Him to use me as he chooses.

Not a woman setting about her daily routine, but a slut pulled out of that day stuff, and tugged relentlessly towards the velvety darkness that feeds us both. Until all I want, all I need is Him. His hands bruising me, his mouth consuming me, his cock filling me. Until his brutal need is sated, and my need to be brutalized is fulfilled.

We Have a Plan!

Sometimes I lose faith in what we…or maybe that should say W/we, are. I’ve been pretty good about not being whiney but yanno…it’s been 8 months since I’ve seen my Master.

Yes.

EIGHT. FUCKING. MONTHS.

Sure we text a few times a day (like, good morning, good night, and some days a flurry of notes back and forth)…and I try to be respectful of his time, but sometimes it feels like I’m driving the relationship thing forward (or off a cliff?) all by myself. If I didn’t text him for a day, he wouldn’t write. Then,  I get all pissed and mad and think to myself,

well fine. (no, that should be in caps in full snarky mental voice) F I N E. He doesn’t want to reach out to -me-, and I have to instigate ALL communication, so fuck him. 

I do that. Yes, sad but true, nilla is not a perfect little princess of a slut.

Now, bear in mind that all this is all happening between my own ears, and actually reflects nothing in our relationship in the real world.  In the past I would act on impulse and snarkfest him with a shit-ton of texts saying things like:

okay you don’t like me anymore okayfine

sure sure don’t reply, i don’t matter

whatever. i’m sure you’ve got more important things going on than replying/showing you care/calling the slut who’s been yours for YEARS

And on it would go. Then he wouldn’t reply to any of that, and eventually we’d talk, and he’d say

“nilla, what has changed? Hasn’t this been the way of us all this time? Sometimes I’m busy, and can’t reply. But nothing has changed. I’m still your M. You’re still my slut. All is well.”

So now I just repeat that in my head when the nerves fester up and explode…’he hasn’t called or texted and he mustn’t need me anymore’…is covered over by

‘nilla, nothing has changed…’

and it helps. Because I hear his voice saying it, and it stops the freefall.

But because I was feeling…lost? I dunno. Adrift. There, that’s a better word…I did send him a text mid-week:

‘are we still even a thing anymore? all we seem to say is good morning and good night…sigh

And he replied right away to that.

yeah it’s a problem – we are both pulled in many directions – we’ll work it out.

and I had to add my two cents

I hope so. We are pulled apart by life and I get that. I just miss you.

note the forlorn, sad voice there. Then M, being the M he is, and who knows exactly how to snap me out of my funk says

Keep that thought when I’m beating you.

And with that, the sun comes back out, I smile, and I know that everything will be okay again–eventually. And with that in mind, I shoot him a text a day or so ago and tell him I’m feeling desperately needy (do all you Domly types love to hear that?!), and he pulls a date out of the air and damn if it isn’t an open day on MY calendar too! So, peeps, we have a playdate in 2 weeks.

TWO WEEKS!

Of course, now I’m feeling old (sorry Jz) and fat (sorry Olivia) and gross. Me, who is usually totally not worried about this shit in normal life. So what, I shrug, I’m round. So what, I say with a smile, I’m short. So what, I’m coming to a fucking HUGE birthday in a matter of months and the wrinkles are popping. (that one still kinda makes my knees shake a bit…still growing older certainly beats the Big Dirt Nap!)

I have to *consciously* remind myself that he doesn’t care about that shit. I’m sure he’d be thrilled with a slender(er) submissive who was 30 years younger …hell, I wouldn’t say no if a genii appeared and offered that, but you know what? I love and adore him, but… he’s got his own wrinkles, his own messy hair, his own tummy.  Neither of us are winning beauty contests here. We’re not in this for the (what I call) “glam-porn” where every tit is perky and bouncy, and every torn blouse is arty and sexy. Nope, just two old farts who will have the *best* time banging on one another (and banging one another!)…until I’m begging him to stop making me cum…and he’s refusing to stop.

Ah. See? You’ve all let me vent and now I’m not feeling so terribly gross after all. It’s not about the looks…it’s about the actions, the way we make one another feel, and being together. It may be an odd way to show love for one another, but really, when all is said and done, I’m okay with that!

 

It’s still winter here and I have the blahs…

…but…I’ve been writing so that helps. Sexy stuff that makes me horny, and stories have begun appearing in my head again.

And M and I may have a playtime later this month. Cross your fingers because I need it badly. And so, I believe, does he.

Suddenly EVERYTHING is annoying me. I’m not finding solace in my work as I usually do, just annoyance. I’m not finding peace in most anything other than journaling, and that’s not a full time kind of thing, right?

I need it to really be spring. I need to be outside and puttering in the yard, and not being pent up in the house all the fucking time except when I’m going to work. I’m so frigging stir crazy it isn’t even funny. And dear gods, I need to be beaten and fucked to unconsciousness.

And it snowed again today, almost an hour after the weather guy said the snow wasn’t going to get us after all. LIAR! LIAR! Grrr!. Now, we’re not talking feet, and we’re not talking all day…okay it was most of the day…but peeps…the temp almost hit 40…39…so close, so close…and within an hour it had fallen back, and by evening, fallen even lower, back to 32. It should NOT be 32 during the day in the first week in April. It’s just so wrong.

Is it weird that I’m mad about it? I’m feeling…gypped. I’m feeling…mad. Really, pissy and grumbly and I have absolutely NO tolerance for it. Okay it’s pretty. Blah blah. It’s too damn cold, my heat is still running, and I had to take out the winter coat. Again.

Just. Stop. Being. Cold.

*bitch session over*

So, I’ve been writing. It’s hard because it comes in dribs and drabs, my free time. Between work, kids, pets, and yeah, kids…and all the little weird life-crisis’ that happen, from “omg I just dropped your favorite mug” to “uh, ma, I just sucked something up in the vacuum and it appears to be stuck up there” (in the poorly designed crook where it’s solid plastic and unable to be detached from the hose, of course).

Yeah, those kind of time sucks.

But the workaround is actually grabbing those free breaks of 5, 10, 15 minutes, and slamming a few words down. It helps me feel that I’ve accomplished something..not quite so much as finally getting the cat toy OUT of the frigging vacuum did (after -no shit- an HOUR of working on it), but close.

*grins*

So that’s my grumble on a Friday night. Happy weekend. And by damn I hope Spring pushes the damned polar vortex straight to hell.

Hired! ~18~

She was thrumming. As an avid reader she had often thought that any of  the books she’d read about D/s -with all those silly adjectives- were just that…silly. But her body was quite literally thrumming with anticipation. She yearned for him; his touch, his wit -even when he drove her crazy, which was about every other sentence-and even his rare smile. Through his careful application of touch, and words, and the fucking, frigging, gawd-awful annoying chastity belt, he’d made her burn with needs so intense it was painful. Or pain-empty, she thought snidely.

Normally she would object to that, to being ‘trained’ to be so needy. But here? Now? There was no denying that she wanted to scream in his face

“FUCK MEeeeeeeee!”

which would not be very dignified, and who knew how he’d react? He likely wouldn’t like being screamed at in her banshee voice, but he might enjoy that he’d driven her to the absolute end of her wits. She kept her eye on that shining key, transfixed. It held, literally and figuratively, the keys to the kingdom. Or the pussydom. Or the Dom’s pussy.

She wanted to giggle, but held it back because then she’d have to explain and she wanted to get that key!

“I see you’re holding conversations in your bobble-head again, slut,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “I wonder if I’m in any way involved?”

“I-sorry,”Sir. I was…thinking about the key. About getting out of this. About your delicious cock…”

“All to the good slut but unless you shut up..verbally AND in your head, you’ll not understand the game. If you don’t understand the game, you’ll lose, and you’ll have to wear that to work tomorrow.”

He pointed at the silver belt that fit around her waist, that blocked access to her very needy pussy. Swallowing hard, because she absolutely did not want to wear the belt to work, OMG perish the thought, she nodded, biting hard on her inner lip to silence herself.

“Better,” he said, watching her for a moment.  “I’m going to clamp your nipples. Every ten seconds, I’m going to tighten them. If you can stand it for a full two minutes, you’ll have passed your first test.”

Slowly she nodded. What choice did she have, she pondered. It was take the clamps and torture, or be stuck wearing metal panties. Flicking her nipples to draw them taut, he grasped one, and twisted it experimentally, making a ‘hmm’ as his eyes bored into hers. She winced as he tweaked hard to the right, then harder still. Nodding, he released the swollen bud, only to snap a clamp upon it.

She gasped aloud.

“Already you react? It’s going to be a very long 120 seconds then, won’t it, slut?”

She swore she could see the sadistic gleam in his eyes.

“It was just..”

Just what, she wondered. She couldn’t tell him how needy she was, not yet. Or tell him that the quick bite of the clamp had arrowed a shot of lust-pain directly to her clit.  Quirking his brow at her, he twisted the other nipple.  This time she expected the quick hit of pain, but he slowly released the lever, denying her the jolt that her body was craving.

The smirky smile danced around his mouth, tightening her resolve. She’d bear that two minutes, indeed she would.

Twist

Twist

The first ten second tightening was nothing more than a caress. By the first minute, she was squirming, her pussy throbbing, her nipples starting to burn.

Twist

Twist

As He tightened the knobs on the clamps for the tenth time, she thought her nipples were going to be crushed beyond salvation. Feeling the seconds pass with the painful pulse beating she whimpered through the eleventh and then braced for the twelfth, (thank all the gods!) and  final twist. Gritting her teeth and breathing slowly, she stared at him.

“Good slut,” he said, then flicked a finger along each clamp, setting them to bouncing. “Now, jump.”

“What?” her tone was pure shock.

“You heard me.”

Looking steadily at him, she thought about disobeying.

“It’s…going to hurt.”

“Yeahh,” he purred.

“Bastard”

Cocking his head at her, he smiled.

“Did you say something there slut?”

She shook her head and gave a half-hearted jump. Her tits wobbled and wiggled, and she groaned.

“Good practice jump. Again, but higher.”

She groaned louder, but jumped a bit higher.

“Slut. Your toes barely even left the floor. JUMP, cunt, jump. Wait. I think you need more motivation. Bend over.”

Dear gods, what had she gotten herself into? It had been so long since she’d had a play session. The last time with Asshole Andy hadn’t been playtime, but a brutal beating.  She wasn’t used to this. She…

He slapped the underside of her tits hard, as she stood there, bent at the waist. Her tits stung, and each impact set the clamps to swinging wildly as her huge breasts wobbled in response. Every blow against her under-tit made her squirm and yelp. It was finally only his hand in her hair that held her until he was finished.

“OMG!” she yelped, gasping.

Still using  her hair he pulled her upright again.

“Motivated?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yessir,” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

“Good, then get on with it.”

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. She wanted to kick him. A mutinous expression crossed her face, but she desperately wanted to get out of the damn belt. Fuck, she could prove to him that she was made of strong stuff.

She jumped.

Gritting her teeth, she whistled out a breath as her tits screamed fire from her nipples outward. He stepped up to her, grabbing each large tit in each hand, and smacked them together.

“Such lovely tits,” he said, his hands gripping the flesh tightly. He pushed them together, making her whimper low in her throat.

“Fuckable, lovely fuckable tit tunnel,” he said, before laughing and releasing her. He removed a clamp quickly, flicking the abused nipple.

“Tell me slut, which hurts worse now…the clamped nip, or the one without?”

If she could have done anything in that moment, she would have hit him, or bitten him, or something, but the two different pains had her mouth opening, closing, and silent.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you were speechless. I suppose it won’t last, but at least now I know how to have a moment’s respite…” He laughed, pleased at his own humor.

As she opened her mouth to speak, he removed the other clamp. With a gasp, she doubled over, wondering if her nipple was still on her, or stuck within the clamp. Lifting her by her chin, he kissed her, hard.

“Good slut. Step one, done.”

 

 

HNT~ Master’s Pick

I sent M some boob pic’s because I haven’t in a while. And my post yesterday was all angsty, but made me reflect that some of the effort of maintaining our synergy lies upon me, not only Himself.

Synergy, by the way is defined thusly:

syn·er·gy
ˈsinərjē/
noun
  1. the interaction or cooperation of two or more organizations, substances, or other agents to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects.
    synonyms: cooperative interaction, cooperation, combined effort, give and take

I like this word a lot. It’s a statement that reminds me that we both bring something to our relationship, and it isn’t only kneeling and ordering, but the little things we can do to maintain our connections, despite the long vanilla times when we’re apart.

The best part of the definition for me is the “greater than the sum of their separate effects” part. Together we are explosive, raw, violent, passionate–so very different from our vanilla selves.

And synergy aside, what Dom doesn’t enjoy a bunch of titty pictures from his submissive?

Then I asked him to pick his favorite for HNT. I’m almost surprised that he went for the most subtle one of the bunch. They’re all variations on the theme of Naptime, by the way. Without further ado, here is M’s pick:

20180328_130912

This Could Be Exciting

Okay, so my *favorite* vibrator is dying. I have actually bought 3 iterations of it over the years but at long last it is no longer available. So I bought a sibling of it, and while it’s a bit girthier, which I like, it doesn’t have the same ripply texture and the vibe is more buzzy? In a lighter way, somehow. Anyhow, we’re going to take some time to develop a relationship.

sigh

I hate buying a new vibe. So then I go back to the website…because the one I wanted was like $185.

*hysterical laughter*

Right, as if I’d spend almost $200 on my pussy? Uh, no. Too much of a frugal Yankee here for that. But then I saw *this*…and I have to admit that I bought it immediately.

Dodil

By the way, this is NOT an advertisement. I don’t do those sorts of endorsements. But I’m SO excited by the idea of this (and the video showed it as being fairly girthy, too!). You can *shape* this! Mold it to bend and have nobbies in places that feel good…oh gosh. It’s like a fantasy for me, come true! And while it’s not a vibrator, I’m hoping that the various forms I can shape it to will more than make up for missing out on the vibe part.

I’ll let you know how it works out when it comes…hopefully sooooon so I can cum, too! LOL

Color me an eager beaver. (see what I did there?)

 

Vanilla Suckage

I love the word suckage…it evokes thoughts of cocks, and gagging on them, on the taste of His cum, on the feeling of submission I get when I kneel at his feet, sucking on Him.

This is not that kind of suckage, however.

No, this is a brief “AAARRGH” as my vanilla life has sucked so much of the wanton out of me. Sometimes, it’s really, really hard to remember that I AM a slut. That I AM a lover of pain, and powerless orgasms. That I need my well to be filled, even as he drains me. I need to be renewed as His slut, and I need it soon.

We were supposed to meet earlier this month for playtime, but being ill, then several serious snowstorms all put the end to those plans. (He actually lost power for close to a week, though we did not. He got lots of wind, we got lots of snow. It sucked for both of us…again, not the good kind of suckage!)

Now we’re hoping that we can work out the time to be together in April. Easter, and birthdays, and life will try to muck things up, but if we both stay healthy, we might, maybe, possibly be able to eke out some time together for Him to beat me. (Just re-reading that makes me smile. Seriously, are we pain sluts fucked up or what?)

As much as I need to be beaten and fucked brainless, He needs to beat, to fuck, as well. Sometimes I forget that Dominants need that release every bit as much as we submissives do. Maybe it’s because they’re all quiet and stalwart about it, and can compartmentalize it better than subs can? I dunno, that’s my personal theory, anyway.

So, I’ll be writing off my frustrations tomorrow….my day off –at LAST;  last week my “day off”  got suborned and I’ve really been feeling the need for some down time, because as much as you all have been wanting to read chapters, I’ve been dying to write them!

I’m not slipping off quietly into that vanilla night. Nope, I’m grabbing my submission and pulling it up from my toes where it’s been tamped down and making those plans and more importanly, keeping them. As He said to me this morning,

you are mostly a pain slut who hasn’t had any selective pain in quite some time.

So true.

Painfully needy for pain…how’s that for an oxymoron?

 

Hired! ~17~

“Ahah! Found you, you little cunt!”

Alex Kimbrell wrote down the address of  Jackson, LTD. She’d moved all the way to New York City, the whore. So, she was scared, a little, and needed some attention. So he would give it to her. He knew she wanted him to find her, to take her back home, by force if necessary. She was into that whole kidnap/beating scene, apparently. He wasn’t sure if this Lance Jackson had actually hired her after their conversation, but it would be a good starting place to find her. As head of his division, he was entitled to 6 weeks of vacation time. He’d use all of it, if need be, to get his little slut back. Tapping the paper with the precious address on it with one long finger, he turned back to his computer and logged in the appropriate request for time off.

“Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty,” he muttered, shoving the address into his breast pocket. It was time to make some plans.

*********************************

Her pulse was hammering, but not just in the heart beating hard between her tits. The small bud between her thighs was throbbing, matching the achy feeling of her tits and ass where he’d beaten on her yesterday. She could feel the wetness, feel the intense need building. It had begun when he’d snapped the collar around her throat, and intensified when he’d added the leash, tugging her along to the play room. But rather than taking her into the large public room, he had pulled her to a stop in front of a door.He exchanged a nod with the Watcher there, who buzzed the door open.

“Ladies–and I do use the term loosely–first.”

He gestured for her to precede him up the stairs that stretched up into another level. His fingers pinched at her calves as she climbed, causing her to stumble and yip.

“So clumsy, slut!”

Pausing, she shot him a fulminating glare before continuing up to the top. He poked her in the bum just for fun, then pushed her to the right where a door stood open.

“In there, slut.”

Stepping inside, she saw a plastic covered mattress, a built in cabinet with sheets and implements, and a variety of rings and hooks on the wall, ceiling, and the floor around the bed. She swallowed hard. The door shut with a quiet snick, and she glanced behind her. His expression had changed. He looked–feral. Fierce. His gaze, always direct, now had an intensity to it that made her feel like prey. Her belly felt quivery, a mix of fear and stark need. What this man stirred in her!

“Take off the coat, slut.”

Slowly, teasingly, she untied the knot of the tied belt, then eased it off of one shoulder. A thin black strap appeared as she shrugged the coat lower, then shook the other shoulder, allowing it to catch on her bent forearms. Cocking her head, she smiled at him.

He continued to look at her, not saying anything. After a long, silent minute, she rolled her eyes, and let the coat slip from her. Under it she wore a demi bra, which left her girls supported under the bust, but naked from the nipple upwards. The panties were black lace, and disdained to be called granny-pants. They covered the hated chastity belt, and much of her soft, round belly, and soft, round ass, but hinted at what lay between. A matching lace garter belt snugly held her hose. The stiletto’s that he’d surmised earlier, and seen going up the stairs, enhanced her softly curved thighs her shapely calves.

“Very nice. Aren’t you lucky I didn’t demand you shed the coat down in the main room?”

“Well, I would have explained…”

“And yet, I still would have demanded the coat be removed.”

Here he was, the full-Dom. Face to face with him, she wondered how she’d ever thought that Alex was? This man didn’t make her fearful, but rather, a nervous, turned-on agitation.  That he would hurt her, she had no doubt. Wasn’t she even now wearing bruises from yesterdays attack of the spatula and spoon? But he made her yearn.

“Remove the panties, leave the garter belt.”

She pouted, but slipped the panties off.

“You want that off too, don’t you?” He pointed at the chastity belt.

She nodded, eagerly anticipating the freedom. And the orgasms.

“You’ll need to earn this.”

He pulled the key up from under his shirt, let it dangle in the light. Her eyes followed the gleaming silver key. He saw the lust burn in her eyes as she leaned ever so slightly towards the shining key dangling from his neck.

“How?”

“So impatient.”

“I’ve been in this thing forEVER!”

“Not yet, no.”

“It feels like it.”

“Poor little slut. Horny as fuck and unable to touch or play with herself.”

“Yes. And … you haven’t…”

“What?”

“You know.”

“I know many things.”

She rolled her eyes. She hated when he played the obtuse game.

“You haven’t…sealed the deal. You know. Stop! I hate that when you put on that stupid face!”

“The Jerkface Jackson face, you mean?”

He pulled a long face, bugged out his eyes. She giggled, thought about slapping at him, but didn’t quite dare.

“Yes, that one. That…jerkface face.”

He stepped closer, into her personal space. She could feel the heat from him now, his breath on her forehead.

“Hands behind your back, slut.”

They went behind, promptly. He stepped around her, then bound her hands, of course with a tie. She could feel the slippery silk, but also felt him weaving it over and around her tightly.

“So tell me, slut, what haven’t I done?”

“The..ga-donk-a-donk. The crazy monkey dance. Belly bumping.”

“Ah. I see.”

She warmed to the topic.

“Boinking! Buttering the biscuit! Checking the oil…”

“Fucking. You forgot that one.”

He reached around, pinched her left nipple.

“Say it.”

“It.”

He twisted the nipple.

“Ittt…OKAY…OKAYYYYY!!!  FUCK!  YOU HAVEN’T FUCKED ME!”

He let go of her nipple, flicking it gently with a fingertip. She sighed.

“Now I’m all embarrassed.”

“But it’s true. I haven’t fucked your cunt yet. Your lovely mouth, yes, but not your weeping, needy cunt.”

He paused and she leaned back against him. He filled his hands with her tits, molding and squashing them between his fingers. She sighed as he released her, and pushed away.

“Now slut, let me tell you how this works.”

“Oh, please do,” she said, her tone teetering on the edge of sarcastic.

“That wasn’t very submissive, now was it?”

“I’m not a doormat. I have a voice. I can follow orders and directions, but I’m going to speak my mind.”

Stepping in front of her, he grasped her nipples, twisting lightly. She rose to her toes, until her mouth, open and gasping, was close to his.

“Good girl,” he said, surprising her. “Doormats are boring. I like your spunk.”

“I like yours too,” she replied archly.

He laughed, then twisted her nipples, hard.

 

Housekeeping

With so many chapters of Hired! now done, I’ve decided to create a page to put them all in…all 20,000+ words of it! Whoa! I’m still deciding on a direction, and am in the middle of reading it from start to the end of where we’re all hanging…

But I expect to have some good writing time later this week, so know that it’s coming, really.

Even Kat might come this week. (Laughs)

I’m so very touched by all the lovely, lovely comments everyone has left, and how much everyone is into these two characters. I don’t plot out my stories (bad me!), just sit down and they pour out of me. Sometimes I can write two or three chapters in a go, other times, it’s just one scenario. Depends on the muse, I guess.

I’m hanging with this one till the end. Promise, promise! I know there’s more than one story that is still hanging in suspended animation until I get back to it. There’s a few short stories on Dark Fantasies when my mind goes off on a tangent, but mostly I’m just sticking with this one tale.

Thanks for coming along on the ride with me!

Love,

nilla