HA! IT’S STILL THURSDAY…(somewhere)

Okay, maybe only for 21 minutes in MY time zone, but yeah. I’m late late late. This working gal has put in waay many hours this week…but I did have time to snap this pic for M, then decided it was cute enough to work for this week’s HNT

Which should be called “A Little Blue”…a pun, because M and I did NOT get the playtime we’d hoped for, unfortunately as a member of his family took ill quite suddenly. That person is now doing better but it killed our weekend plans. So, yeah, blue. In blue.

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Addicted to Porn

Wave your hand if you are, too?

Yeah, I thought so.

Not many want to admit to the “addiction” part because it’s bad, right? I mean, it’s okay to binge-watch Orange is the New Black, or the Simpsons, but binge-watching porn is bad.

I mean, really bad.

Except…perhaps not.

I have a deep affection for the human body in all it’s sizes, shapes and colors. From breasts to balls, I love looking at naked people. Hell to the yes, it makes me hot, wet, turned on.

Especially if there’s fucking involved.

Or domination.

Or pain.

Nipple clamps and bondage? Whoa, that almost makes me cum, just watching the expressions on the face of the “victim”. But being a submissive isn’t really about being a victim.

Watching “play rape” scenes doesn’t mean I want to be raped. Doesn’t mean I want to see someone be sexually assaulted if it’s not part of a D/s dynamic/agreement.

But fuck, it turns me on.

I can’t really say why. But I do refuse to believe that people engaged in sexual acts that bring them pleasure is wrong, or bad, or evil. So you’re not into anal?

Don’t do it.

Don’t watch it.

But don’t ban *me* from it…nor any of the thousands of people who like it, (or in my case, I can’t say I like it…it’s more of a form of domination that he does it and I like when he makes me do things I don’t like.)

For me that’s my kink. I’m okay with it, with how I am. With who I am. But damnation, it’s taken me into my 5th decade to learn that.

I hope any young whippersnappers who read here begin to find their way to what works, what makes them happy (and what is legal!). But if your kink is piercing your subs tits with needles or nails, leave me out of it.

*shudders*

See? That’s an immediate turn off for me right there. But for you? or You? I’m sure it’s something that gets you rock hard, or dripping wet. We’re pervie peeps, and we’re okay.

(It helps if you believe that the whole world is basically fucked up…because then you *KNOW* that you fit in! If fitting in is important to you!)

So let’s go hang out together on Tumblr (I’m nilla9 there) or  head on over to wherever you find your pervie stuff–and enjoy it. But perhaps…not at work!

And if your perv is my weekly titty pix–well, you know i’m woefully late. Better late than never? This is a repeat, but yanno, it IS football season and I’m so so happy to be watching my beloved Patriots once again (last week not withstanding).  Hmmm….can football be a kink? LOL It sure turns this subbie girl on!

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night peeps!

 

 

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It’s All About Heart

Hi, my peeps. I’ve gone back and forth about writing something wicked and wanton for you…but this is not a sexy tale.

Sorry.

We’re on the cusp of the anniversary of September 11th.  I thought I could write something sexy, but– I just can’t. The shock and horror of that day–despite not knowing anyone personally harmed–rises up and chokes me, even now.

Here in the northeast a special commemoration happens on the weekend closest to the anniversary, called “Flags on the 48”. If you live up here you know that there are 48 mountain peaks in New Hampshire that are over 4,000 feet — in fact, the tallest, Mt. Washington, at 6,288 feet is famed for being home to some of the world’s worst weather. It’s already snowed there, by the way. Hurricane-force winds are common there.

So back to FOT48. Hikers “adopt” a mountain, and every one of the 48 summits is hiked by one or more people. They raise a full size American flag on their summit, and let it wave. Every summit has flags waving for several hours at about the same time, all on the same day. Now, I’ve wanted to be a part of this tradition for so long, and I just can’t.  But scrolling through Youtube, I discovered that various hikers post videos. So,  I’m going to share this particular one with you, as we pause for just a moment and remember that not-so-long-ago day. This Flags on the 48 video is from last year. Now, the video is long-ish but introduces you to the mountains that I hold dear in my heart. (for more videos on other summits, search for Flags on the 48 on Youtube and you’ll get a bunch)

September 11th is about heart. The heart of those who died. The heart of those first responders who rushed in, when everyone else rushed out. The heart of those passengers in Pennsylvania. The heart of the world as they heard about the events of that fateful morning. And my heart, tossed in a variety of turbulent emotions that day, full of fear and pain and fury and shock and horror. Like yours was, too.

So let’s take a moment to celebrate the lives we have, to remember those who lost loved ones, and remember that it’s okay to be sexy and horny and alive on this day, even as we mourn.  Today, I’ll sit quietly for a moment and hold my kids just a little tighter, and know that after death, we must, we MUST celebrate life, or what is the purpose? More sexy to come, my dear peeps, for I most earnestly believe that we dishonor those who have died by not living our lives to the fullest.

In love and lust,

nilla

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HNT~ Noir

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Still Riding the High

A week ago I was an aching, tired, cum-drained slut. Most of the bruises have faded, though the bite on my ass shows no signs of leaving anytime soon. The memories have shuffled, rising like bits of flotsam as I go through my busy days. I stop, smile, have a small internal shiver.

I know he had a good time too–his texts are often teasing, meant to heat me up.

I was remembering about when he finally untied my arms from their tight criss-cross. We were shifting and moving all over the bed. It is a fuzzy,  orgasm-fused memory, as to the how of it, but I was on the floor, on my knees. I think  He’d been smacking my ass, but I’m just not sure.

Anyway, the how isn’t the important bit of the memory.

Things had been getting progressively fiercer. I was ramped up, he was ramped up, and suddenly, unexpectedly, he grabbed me and threw me up and onto the bed.

By my hair.

His fist grabbed a huge hunk of my hair and simply hauled up, up and onto the bed without regard. Just a giant heave and I was there. It hurt like hell, and I remember being so turned on. He fell onto my back, his hand pressing my face into the mattress so hard I could scarcely draw breath, and then he was biting my shoulder, biting it hard.

I screamed and writhed under him, and he flipped me over, and clamped his teeth onto my nipple while his hand dove down to my pussy.

He finger-fucked me furiously, giving no quarter.

This wasn’t a gentle kind thing. This was a violent, fierce taking, and I loved every aching moment of it.

When he takes me, uses me for whatever he wants, it makes me feel…cherished. Owned. Needed.

Special.

There’s no better feeling for a pain-loving, needy slut like me.

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Blogaversary…Missed It! (Again!)

Happy 8 years hangin’ out together my pervie peeps! It’s been a series of ups and downs, of angst and joy, of anger and anguish, of gentleness and fierceness. There’s been much happiness, much sluttiness, many twisted tales, and many, many comments from you all showing me much love.

I am so happy I started blogging 8 years ago! Here’s to another go ’round in the blogosphere!

*clinks teacups with you*!

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Things You’d Only Hear From A D/s Couple

No, this is not a category on Jeopardy, but I’d bet many of my pervie peeps would do well with this, yes? *laughs*

“Master, I simply do not understand your fascination with my asshole.”

“Nilla, I *love* your asshole.

Yes. He did say this. It made me laugh. It made him prove it.

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“Master, I’m so going to pinch  your nipples.”

“Ha. Good luck with that slut.”

I tried. I got a quick flick in and almost…almost … caught that little man-nip between my fingers before his fingers, firmly affixed to my belly flab, made me shriek and let go.

He, for the record, did not.

Let go, that is.

Not until I fell over on the bed and cried and whimpered and pleaded.

And yes.

I tried again, and yes, met with the same fate.

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“You really like pushing the envelope, slut. I only hope your ass will be able to cash the check your smart mouth is writing.”

Catching the ever-so-slight warning in his tone, I shut the fuck up.

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*gales of silly, hysterical laughter as he flops on top of me*. He pins me in place and says “no one has more fun than you, nilla.”

Immediately he begins  the slow, tortuous tickling of my underarms with his gently brushing fingers (SO BRUTAL! Gentle brutality to be sure!), alternating with the swirling tip of his tongue in my ear canal and outer ear. I know it’s an erogenous zone for many, but for me it is a very, extremely ticklish area.

I wish I could stop laughing.

I laugh until I’m gasping for breath, crying.

He stops and bites my shoulder fiercely.

I stop laughing and arch, screaming with the pain.

It’s fucking devious and I cannot keep up with it.

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“You’re a real slut, nilla.”

“Thank you Master.”

 

 

 

 

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Bossed

She thanked all the powers of the universe that she saw him first. From across the crowded room-play ‘n display night was always packed- he stood out. He was tall, muscular, topped with a thick head of ebony hair. He could have been a model, those chiseled cheekbones, the firm slice of jaw. He knew how to stand, how to show himself off without appearing to even give a fuck. He was there for his own fun, and screw anyone else.

She knew this because he was her boss.

Ducking behind a group of leathermen, she slid into the darkest corner of the bar.

“Hiding?”

The throaty purr came from behind her.

“Go away,” she whispered.

“Not until you ‘fess up.”

“I mean it. If you hover, he’ll notice you hovering and be curious. He might even come over here!”

“He? He who? Who has my little Kittycat all tied up…figuratively of course?”

“Angie.”

“No darling, this week it’s Alicia. I’m thinking of giving up on Angie all together.”

Her friend tried on personas like others tried on shoes, she knew.  She bit back a query as that would only continue this conversation. Everyone knew Ang…Alicia. She stood out wherever she was, all six feet plus of her,; ebony skin, big hair, and skintight metallic dress. She’d be at home in any version of Rocky Horror Picture Show remake, on any stage belting out tunes with that incredible voice, or pounding back shots of gin followed by that booming laugh.  Sometimes Cat forgot how much of an attention whore her friend was. Until right now, when all she wanted was to be invisible.

“Seriously. Go. Away.”

“Oh babygirl, what’s gone on with you now?”

Rolling her eyes she reached for patience.

“My boss is here.”

“Your BOSS IS HERE?? In HERE? On PLAY AND DISPLAY NIGHT?”

She wanted to melt through the floor. She wanted to grow wings and fly out of there. She wanted to-

“Katherine?”

He always said her name with a firm precision that made her back straighten. She should have know. Might have suspected, if he wasn’t such a tight laced man. She might have figured out he was a Dom.

Maybe.

Her eyes shut, her cheeks flamed. Slowly, she turned her head and looked over her shoulder. She didn’t want to turn, her tits thrust up in the bustier, curvy and jiggly. She, the always impeccably dressed legal secretary, all business suits and firmly coiffed hair, now stood near bare-chested, long hair waving to her waist.

“Do turn around, Katherine.”

She shook her head ‘no’, oh so briefly. His hand gripped her shoulder, stronger than she would have imagined, and twisted her about. She couldn’t look above his waist, or think about meeting his eyes as she felt them moving across her body. In the soft and torn jeans he wore, she noted the subtle bulge of his penis.

It was a fucking huge cock.

A finger under her chin lifted her head, but not her gaze.

“Look at me.” His voice was pitched low, but firm.

“I…I can’t.”

“Ah, but you can. In fact, you must.”

A tremble ran through her, her throat swallowed, a quick, involuntary movement. Her eyes rose, met his.

“Fancy meeting you here. Submissive. I suppose I should have guessed.”

“I thought the same when I saw you. I should have guessed. You, a dom.”

“And here we are,” he murmured as his eyes slipped over the round curves so temptingly displayed. “Your nipples seem happy to see me, though I’m not sure about the rest of you. You’ll pardon us, Alicia, as we go sort this out?”

He took her by the arm as Alicia nodded, her gaze avid. Cat turned and mouthed “help me”, but her friend merely grinned widely, and waved, mouthing “no. fucking. way!”

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Bruised Meat

There was much hitting (as one would expect) during our playtime. Pinned, arms bound criss-cross, I could not stop Him. Despite twisting, turning, wriggling, He slapped arms, thighs, that OMG-TOO-TENDER! spot where ass and thigh meet…and my tits. His hands squeezed, slapped, pinched, shook and molested my poor tits until I was crying.

And then he took the spoon to them.

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This is how they looked an hour after he attacked them…and this is how they looked last night, 3 days later:

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Pretty, pretty bruises.

 

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“Give Me…”

His finger circles my clit. I’ve come, and it’s sensitive and I’m hot and slippery and needy. Again. He laughs at my obvious need, his fingers pinching, squeezing the bulbous sex button before slipping back down my sodden slit.

A solitary finger enters me.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls softly into my ear.

The single finger is joined by another, then a third. Slowly he pushes into me, rubbing against my spot until I’m arching.

He pulls out, and I’m left gasping, right on the edge.

I may have called him a fucking bastard then. His hand rises to my mouth.

“Taste,” he says, “taste yourself on my fingers.”

A finger slides across my bottom lip.

“Salty,” he says, “Sweet.”

“you, girl. That’s you.”

Slowly he presses the other digits into my mouth, across my tongue, down towards my throat, almost-but-not-quite gagging me.

Just as those salty-sweet slicked fingers had caressed my cunt, so now did they fuck my mouth as my tongue swirled and flicked over them, cleaning him. He laughs, a soft chuckle of sound, then pulls them free.

“Here,” he says, turning my head with his free hand. His mouth takes mine, lips barely touching before he pulls back a fraction of space.

“Give me. Give me…” His word is a fierce yet quietly growled order.

“More,” he demands, lips against my mouth. I press my lips harder against his. Our mouths suck and take greedily from one another. I moan as he sucks my aching tongue hard, then bite his lip when he frees it.

As our mouths mate, his fingers press into my pussy and begin the dance of lust again.

 

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