Camp Nekkink ch. 14

He was holding his sleeping slave close to him, playing with her hair. It was early evening, but they both needed some rest and recovery after an intense afternoon. He didn’t think he’d fucked this many times in two days…in years! Something about this new slave of his made him, and apparently his cock, feel years younger. Perhaps it was her uninhibited enjoyment of all the new things she had been exposed to. She was not jaded, and yet not pre-programmed by what ‘her’ needs were. It was a good balance. She knew who she was, and that was the fundamental root of why this was working.

He was certain that she was having the most intense experience of her life at this kinky camp, and enjoying every moment of it. Well, maybe not every moment, he amended, smiling to himself. He recalled her look of total revulsion  when she finally got her blindfold removed, and could see herself. God how he had loved that look on her face! It gave him one hell of a rush to know he’d done that to her, made her experience that level of submission to him.

Spit and snot had dried on her neck, while soft gooey spots still existed under her breasts, in her belly button, not to mention their combined cum that stuck her thighs together as she walked across the Dungeon floor with him.  He had showered with her, a gentle experience as he laved her body with soap, feeling all her soft contours. She moaned as he rubbed the places that were starting to form bruises; he was pleased that she wore his markings so beautifully on her soft skin.

Afterwards, they headed for her tent, and fell asleep in moments, cradled in each others arms. When He woke, her head was nestled into his shoulder, her body curved into his side. He could feel  the soft mounds of her tits pressing into him, the warm moistness of her mons pressed against his hip, her leg drawn up and over his.  He played with her hair. He loved her hair. The soft silken texture of it, the way she would peer through it when she was being coy with him. When it was plastered to her head, drenched with the sweat that he caused, or up in a ponytail restraining her. Smiling, a tendril of hair twined about his finger, he drifted back into slumber.

She stirred. Slowly she awakened, her body sending signals of “ouch” from her back and ass and tits and hell, the list was endless. But within the burning soreness was pleasure, and she smiled deeply to remember how much she had pleased Master, and how much that had pleased her. She had never known the depths of her submissive nature until yesterday. Was it only yesterday?!  She felt like she had been his slave forever. All of her life had culminated to bring her to this place, and while she regretted none of the past, she worried about her future. What would she do without him? She looked up at him, sleeping. His fingers were tangled in her hair, but she had a bit of revenge to offer him, for the comment he had made earlier. She had no idea if she still had a polka dot ass, but still, there was honor at stake here. Slowly, gently, she kissed his neck. Slowly, gently she nibbled wee spots along his throat. His arms tightened around her, but he lifted his head to give her greater access to his neck. She continued her gentle ministrations, moving over and over his throat. Pulling back, she examined his neckline. She smiled, cocked her head at him, whispered huskily,

“hello, my polka dotted stud Master”, then threw back her head and laughed aloud.

“What did you do, minx?” he looked down at her, raised a hand to his throat, felt…small, very small rises in his flesh where her busy teeth had nipped him to welts.

“I just thought that we should go to the dance tonight as a coordinated couple…me with my polka dot ass, and you with a polkadot necktie.” she chortled again, vastly amused at herself.  Truth to tell, he was pretty amused too.

“Would’ve been …more effective to match us, ass to ass.”

“Like you would have let me bite your ass!” she laughed, but he could sense the question.

“Let you? No. Ordered you to…to be sure I would. And perhaps I shall some day. Maybe the same day I tell you to lick my asshole and balls.” He smiled down at her somewhat poleaxed expression, then hugged her.

“Thank you for giving me that idea, cunt. Might even have you do that tonight, after we’re all sweaty and tired from the dance.” He squeezed her again, hard.  “What a good cunt I have! ”

She sighed. You just couldn’t win with these Masters. Even when you won, you lost.

Oil can…

Thanks Seph…this one is for you….

She was nervous as a kitten. She knew deep in her heart, that she was due a punishment. He would take a certain level of sass from her, he liked her sassy he had said, but last evening,  she had really crossed the line, sassing him while at their local munch. She had been….flippant, and  when his eyes had darkened and that line between his brows formed, she knew she’d made a serious error in judgement. She had immediately knelt, bowing her head and leaning into his crotch, repentant, but it did not undo the damage that she had wrought.

Last night they had spooned. He had put his cock into her ass and pulled her tight to him. “Keepin’ the cock warm” he whispered in her ear, holding her firmly when she would have wiggled to get comfortable. When she woke up, he was in the shower, and she had a sore ass.

He came out of the shower, smiling. That just made her nerves worse. He was holding the baby oil in his hand. He saw she was awake, and gestured her to come out of the bed. He bent her in half, stroking her breasts before he pushed her face first onto the bed. She was half standing, in that vulnerable position, ass facing the room, rounded, and ready.

“oh gawd, here it comes now” she thought with a grimace. But instead of a slap, she felt cool, slick moisture.

“Thought you’d want a nice ass massage, baby,” he said in a soft voice. And he rubbed the baby oil all around the round orbs of her ass. His hand firm, then soft, molding and smoothing her skin, rubbing the oil deeply into her flesh. He took a long, long time, using much oil, until she felt she must be slicker than wet latex. She was getting pretty turned on, too. This was something he had never done to her before. She felt her nipples turn to turgid pebbles, rubbed gently against their velvet duvet cover as he pushed and rubbed at her lower cheeks. Her cunt flamed into life as his finger ‘accidentally’  brushed against her soft folds, dewing her lower lips with her juices.

For more than 30 minutes he massaged her ass and tormented her cunt, teasing both of her holes with short forays into them, then back out to work her asscheeks. Finally, with a last soft caress, he rose from the bed. As she made to rise, he stopped her, hand at her neck.

“Not yet, cunt,” he said, his voice suddenly hard as steel. She realized why he’d taken the time soften her up. And cried out at the first blow of the lash against her softened, oiled  skin.

Camp Nekkink ch. 13

Corinne braced her forhead against the smooth tabletop beneath her. Resting at a tilt, she could feel the spittle oozing from her mouth, which was securely ball-gagged. Her neck was securing her to the table, held so that the river of drool had become a small lake, gathering in the Vee where her breasts pushed against the smooth polished wood. With her eyes blindfolded, she could not see Lake Spit, but she could feel it, and she was grossed out beyond words, not that she could speak them, even if she could find enough to describe her humilating condition.

“Well, well, well, my cunt, what did you do to piss off Master Michael?” It was the sweet, dark voice of her Master. She could hear, dammit, laughter in  his voice, and felt his hand glide along the heated curves of her ass.

“Your ass looks lovely with paddle marks on it, cunt. Long red marks, with polka dots!” he laughed out loud this time.  “My cunt with the polka dot ass!”

She stayed silent, but fumed inside. ‘Polka dot ass, indeed!” she thought, “just you wait, Master, just you wait.”

Although she knew he didn’t need to explain anything to her, she was very grateful when he told her that he’d gone out to the parking lot to his car. Since the lots were far away from the camping area, it had taken him a bit longer than he’d planned. Along the way he’d met up with his friend Michael. He had asked Michael to help prepare his cunt for her next adventure.

“Let me guess,”  he mused aloud,  “Michael prefers his cunts to be silent, so I’m guessing you either sassed him,” she shook her head vehemently from side to side, ” no? Good. Then you must have tried to speak when he commanded you to silence?”  he asked her. She nodded, slowly.

“And I can see you are ashamed by your mistake?” he paused, she made no move.  “Embarrassed?” Another nod, yes. This pleased him, for he would rather have this cunt of his be proud of her accomplishments, and embarrassed by her failures. Embarrassment was a powerful deterrent to future failures, he knew. Shame, well, that was a spirit breaker, and he did not want a doormat for a slave.  He wasn’t looking for equal partnership, but he wasn’t looking for a hangdog, life-has-no-meaning wimp, either. Frankly, he was pretty amazed that this newbie had so much fortitude for her first romp through BD/SM, and that she tried it at something as intense as a Kink Camp…spoke volumes as to her spirit. He had plans for a future for them. He wasn’t ready to speak to her of them, but he knew he was not going to let this slave go on her merry way once Camp was over.

She heard a strange crinkly sound…a shopping bag, she thought, with him fishing around in it. She heard a soft scraping sound, smelled sulpher. Then, vanilla? He’s lighting vanilla candles? ooooohhhh…..something she had read about often, and that always, always brought sticky heat to her crotch…wax play. She shifted a bit on the table, felt Lake Spit shift, and drain down straight from between her tits, cascading down her belly, and pooling  up against her belly button. She could feel the warm oozing as it escaped the pool there, and slithered down the soft curve of her waist, running now alongside her hip and the tabletop. She felt the blush begin then, suffusing her hidden face with crimson, felt the blush cascading down her neck to her tits, and even across her shoulders. She prayed he wouldn’t notice.

He noticed.

A laugh came from behind her. “You are one ick covered cunt, aren’t you,” he hooted, “or should I say, one rosy-red, ick covered cunt?”   His guffaws drew the curious from around the room, and she heard people moving over  to where she was imprisoned, heard him describing her current state in lewd, graphic detail.

Then there was silence. She felt and smelled him approach her. His hand drifted down her back, caressed her still glowing ass. He smoothed her hair away from her back, tucking it to her front, and she knew the ends would be drenched in spit when this was over. She sighed as quietly as she was able, but he heard her nonetheless.

“Buck up, cunt. You are more fun than….hmmm, than farting silently in church!” He laughed again, and several of the onlookers guffawed at his humor. Men. She sighed again. Cori was reassured by the silly byplay.  She sensed his laughter was a common thing, and this made her feel safer than any words could have.

Then she felt it. Burning tendrils flowing down her shoulders, then stiffening. Over and over he poured the liquid wax down her shoulders, her back, her ass. Because of the inclined position she was in, the wax would run quickly down her flesh, then harden slowly as it reached it’s cooling point. She could feel her skin pulling as the wax hardened, the tautness felt so good after the burning wax. She felt herself releasing so many things, felt herself flying free, the pain a distant thing, the pleasure pulsing deeply between her thighs. Was it hours or days later that he released her? She was foggy, dazed by all she had experienced in the dungeon since lunch. Her body was curiously relaxed, but her cunt was thrumming with need.

Around her on the floor was  evidence of their play. Chunks and bits of wax peeled from her flesh lay like fall-tossed leaves, wet whorls of spit and cum created fantastical splat marks. She felt used up, dirty, and high as a kite.

She was certain he’d throw her in the shower now, as she was so ….ugh! …she could hardly stand herself. He pushed her against the wall, face first, told her to brace herself on her tired arms. He was behind her, fondling her ass, then her cunt, then her asshole was probed by his curious fingers. She grunted as he inserted two of them, fucked her with them, squeezing yet another moan from her.

She wanted him in her cunt. Like NOW! It was torture to need him so much. Pleasure began to blossom in her as he worked her ass steadily, then just as she was getting into it, he with drew his fingers. Not for long did she have an empty ass, for he quickly inserted his thick cock into her stretched rectum. First the large head went in, with a small inaudible  “pop” . It was a feeling, not a noise. The only sound she did hear was when He moaned as her sphincter released and allowed him entry, then squeezed him tightly. She moaned as her ass took him in, having never had anal sex before. She was surprised that she wasn’t screaming in agony, but truth to tell, there was no agony. The need that beat a steady pulse in her cunt had moved to her ass, and she felt herself thrusting her ass back gently, asking without words for more of his stiff rod.

He complied. He was pushing forward,  impaling  his shaft deeply into  her ass. They moaned together. Then, it was all she could do to hold her position, her arms locked and braced as he withdrew and slammed back into her. Gone was any yearning to give her tenderness. Instead, possession was the urge that drove him deeper, and deeper into his property. He owned this cunt now, this slave, and he was taking her for the ride of her life.

She could hardly wait to see where he took her next.

Camp Nekkink ch 12

If Corinne thought that being hung and facefucked and whipped was the end of afternoon playtime, she could not have been more wrong. After some lovely cuddling, something he called “aftercare” and  which she hadn’t heard of before, he rose from the couch in the Dungeon. Patting her on the head “like a good dog,” she fumed, annoyed, He told her to “sit and stay put, cunt.” And he walked away. She watched him leaving the building, startled. Had she done something wrong? Before she could dive into the pity pool, a woman sat heavily down beside her.

“Phew” said the slave  while fanning at her rosy face, (surely she was a slave, with all those red marks all over her tits, Cori thought silently),  “I’m glad he’s done with me for now. I’m Cassie, by the way. I saw you hanging over there. You looked gorgeous!  That Rolf  is a wonderful rope worker, isnt’  he?  He did me up last year  when we were here. Couldn’t move an inch but I looked damned good!”  With a large grin, the effervescent woman chattered on, and suddenly Cori didn’t mind that they were two nudes sitting on the sofa. They were women, chattering about life, and that was all that was important!  She and Cassie continued  talking  until Cassies Sir came to collect her. Cori was a bit shocked when he strode up to them, grabbing Cassie by the hair at the back of her head  and raising her up from the couch in one swift, almost brutal, move. But when he ground his mouth down on her, she could tell that this really was something that Cassie liked, as she began to moan deep in her throat. Cori swallowed a lump of jealousy, felt a quickening in her clit, and tried to look away. She could still see them in her periphial vision, however, and she was amazed at how long that kiss went on. She wondered who was consuming whom, as both were entwined so deeply in the kiss. She knew the Master…uh, Sir, Cassie had called him, was in control, as his grasp on her hair never wavered, and perhaps even tightened as the kiss went on and on. Finally, they broke apart, Cassie, red faced and panting, and her Sir, smiling. They  went across the room to a cross contraption there. Halfway across the room, Cassie turned and threw a wave at Corinne, who waved back. Wow. What a place!

She closed her eyes, leaned back into the sofa. There were groans, grunts, and even screams echoing around the large room, but she was adapting to the sounds of tortured flesh, of whips whistling through the air, of heavy duty vibes getting people off in amazing ways. She slipped into a light doze. She awoke with a start, but she couldn’t see. She lifted her hand to her face, but another hand stopped her. That hand secured her arm into a stiff leather cuff. Then her other hand was retrieved from beside her, where it rested against her thigh, and was  secured in a similar cuff. This was odd…her arms were spread apart, and she couldn’t pull them apart, nor push them together. Something kept them widely apart…ahhh, a spreader bar, she remembered the name now. It was heavy, too. She had no idea who had secured her thus, but hoped like hell it was Master Dave. When she opened her mouth to ask “Who’s….” a thick rubber ball was pushed deeply into her face, and pulled very tightly around her head and secured. “ouuunnnounnn?!” was all she could say, in protest.

“Shut the hell up, cunt,” came a gruff voice.

Not. Master. Dave.

“uh oh,” she thought, nervously. Her heart rate came up quickly, and she was sure that  her  pulse would be visable as it  beat  it’s rapid tattoo in the hollow of  her throat.

He must have been pulling on the bar, because suddenly she felt herself pulled forward, though no hands touched her body. Cori was becoming  frightened for although she knew she was “safe”  here at camp, what was happening to her now was an unexpected event. She found she could not swallow the spit that was forming in her  mouth, and a glistening rivulet of it began to drool from the edge of her mouth, tracing a silver trail across her tit, while a second trail began oozing down her belly. She shuddered in distaste. “Ugh, spit! And it was getting all over her. Ugh!” Gagged as she was, and ordered to silence as she had been, she could make no protest, but inwardly she was …angry…turned on…angry…submissive..angry…turned the hell on…oh gawd he was pushing her submission this strange man, and she liked it. Loved it. Hated it. Loved it. She was wet, a rivulet of her sex juices was running down her leg to join with the spittle that was sliding down to coat her foot. Onward she was pulled, firmly, quickly. She fought to keep her feet under her as he torpedo’d them across the room. He came to a sudden stop, nearly throwing her off balance again.

“Learn to anticipate my desire and  do not smash into me again,” came the voice. She could almost see the angry glare he was throwing at her, despite the blindfold. She was throwing one right back at him, so it was probably  a good thing that there was something covering her eyes.

She remained silent, although words of protest formed in her head. How the HELL could she anticipate if she was blinded and gagged?  She felt herself pulled forward, felt a cool surface in front of her. Her feet could move forward no further, her knees came in contact first, then as the pull continued, up as well as forward now, her spit slick belly, her breasts, and finally her face were leaning forward, tilted at an angle. She was being held against what felt like a smooth wooden tabletop that was tilted upwards. She heard a click and felt the bar weight taken from her as it was secured somehow at the end of the table that rose above her.  A sound of feet moving around her, more than one pair.  Heavy boots joined the sounds around her.  She felt many hands securing straps around her, holding her firmly to the tabletop. A strap was secured around her knees. The man who put that strap on had a birds eye view of her leaky cunt, and joked about it with the others.

“We need to put a caution sign  near this one,”  he laughed, to her mortification.

“Yeah, what should it say?”  replied the man securing a strap around the back of her neck. The position allowed her to tilt her head enough that the spit could continue to ooze from her mouth and not drown her in her own fluids.

“Slippery When Wet!”   chortled the asshat Master, lightly swiping his finger up her thigh through the fluid trail there, and caressing her womanly folds.

“I think we need a treasure map,” spoke another as he strapped a thicker belt around her waist, “one that has a big old X to mark  the spot.”

“What, you don’t know the spot by now?” laughed leg-strap Master. “Maybe Dave will let you practice finding it on this one,” and he slapped Cori’s ass playfully.

“mmooommmmuuuuu” she grunted, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle her ass away from the hand that was lightly rubbing her sore spot.

“Told you to be silent, cunt.” This growled warning was from the first man.

“Uh oh,” came the voice of waist strap man, leaning into her back and speaking against her hair, “cunt’s gonna get punished now…” and she heard him move away. Not far away, but the other feet also shuffled a few steps back, which made her very…

“AAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM” she screamed behind the gag as she felt a firm smack on her ass. Before she could draw breath, two more fast smacks in the same spot caused her to bite down on the gag. Tears and snot and spit began leaking from her face, adding to the misery she was feeling on her ass.


More tears, more fire on her asscheek.

A pause. Then he spoke,

“it always hurts more to strike the same spot over and over, doesn’t it, cunt?”

As much as she was able, she nodded, trying fiercely to quell the moan that was building in her throat.

He continued, “Since you are new, I’m going to cut you a bit of slack. But word to the wise, cunt, never disobey a Master. Especially one who is helping out your Master.” She nodded solemnly.

Seven…this was applied to her other asscheek…as was Eight….

a pause for breath….


“Oh, oh, ” she thought, dazed, “oh my ass, my ass is on fire!!”  She felt a soothing hand rubbing her posterior, gently, almost….kindly.

“Well, you do take pain well for a beginner,  cunt, I’ll give you that.”

And with that, she heard him moving off. Resting against the table, ass afire, she wondered what would befall her next.

Cold Water

I should have waited and posted this on Monday ….but it was so HOT  (and I hope you’ll agree!)  that I had to get it out there to you all. No kidding –this was a 10 minute write, no editing! Is there a patron Pagan saint/goddess for horny, frustrated vanilla wannabe sex slaves???  Sometimes that Muse is just a wonder to me…**Nilla**


She was in the shower, the mist from the hot water swirling around her. She was on her hands and knees, a hard cock buried in her cunt, and a second one drilling deeply into her mouth.

Hands were running up and down her body. A slap here, a pinch there. These were not gentle love caresses, these were hard, mark making blows. She felt her nipples pulled hard, then his hands pulling her tits to the sides, away from her center. He pulled and pulled and she would have screamed but for the large cock currently fucking her mouth like a second cunt. She felt her lip tear, caught the coppery taste of blood as he stroked in and out of her mouth.

Her cunt was being smashed while her ass was being turned into a hot bowl of beat flesh. He jammed his cock into her, nearly unseating her from her knees, causing her to slip and slide and fight to hold her position. She could feel the water cooling, felt the chill of panic nic down her spine. She’d been ordered to get them off before the water got cold. If this was bad, what could be worse?

She shuddered to think of it.

Or was it a shiver because the water

was indeed

turning cold?

The List

Everyone she knew lately had a list.  Some folks used lists to remember things…don’t forget the screws, the light bulbs, tampons. Some folks used lists to remember to call someone, or the famous to-do kind of list, or the Hunny-Do list. Her list was different. Her list was kinky.

She was 50. Not bad looking for a middle aged broad, she mused, looking into her mirror. Oh, well, gravity had been pulling those big tits of hers for 38 years or so, and a semi inactive lifestyle, along with a deep love of ice cream had added some rolls where there might have been tightness. Bah! She had begun learning to love the envelope;  she knew the value of the contents hidden inside.  No more self correcting, no more down in the dumps because she didn’t have a certain number on her bathroom scale. That same scale now took up space in a landfill,  how un-environmental of her, she knew, but she had laughed aloud as those buff and burly trash men pulled away from the curb, not knowing that they had set her free.

She carried her list in her purse.  She never knew what she’d see that would give her an idea, or item to add to it.  As a mature, handsome woman, she was funny, happy, and she had to admit it…..horny. On her list were things she wanted to experience. Hawt sexy things. She opened her purse, took out her list, and began reading:

Wax Play.

Nipple Clamps.


Ass Fucking.

Her list was in no particular order, so she wasn’t picky about what came first.

Find A Master Find A Lover Find someone to have sex with

This was one of  the most important items on her list.  If she was going to play sex games, she darned well would need to find a lover!  A Master would be soooo kewl.  Okay, so that wasn’t “middle age” talk. So what. With a shrug, she went back to reading:

Say sexy words like cunt, cock, cum.

Get Pissed ON!

Suck a Cock, Blindfolded…or eyes WIDE OPEN.

She had thought about that one a lot too. Did she want to see the big one coming at her mouth, to prepare for it? or did she want to feel all submissive and meek and just take the damned thing at HIS will?

Get fucked. Hard.

Use a Dildo. In front of people. In front of someone.

Lick a Masters Asshole

Yeah, those last two there were on the “oookey” side, and she had written them, crossed them out, rewritten…crossed out..but they were still on the list. If she ever dared to do either of them, she felt that her submission button would be pushed HARD.  Plus, she knew it would make her cunt just burst with liquid fire to submit to them.

Tit Slapping


Being tied up and Having Partner Do any Sex Act On You

Oh those were all pussy gushers! She reached under her skirt, rubbed at her mons, felt the sex dew gathering there. No undies tonight, so she would need to be careful not to get wet marks on her skirt before she arrived.

She tucked her list in her purse ….finally it was time to leave. She grabbed her keys, and without thinking thrice (because she’d already had second thoughts!), she went out, locking the door behind her.

The drive was uneventful, and not long enough for her to chicken out.  After parking her car around the corner from the club, she checked her appearance once more in the mirror. Smooching her lips to smooth out her gloss, gliding her hand along her hair, she flipped the mirror closed, took a deep breath, and exited the car.

She walked up the steps to Club Adventure,  pulled open the door, knowing she was about to have the biggest adventure  of her life! Just before she entered, she pulled out her list, tore it into pieces, and threw the confetti like pieces into the air. Baptism by list, she thought, grinning, and now she was free to explore, to learn, to experience, to be.  And if she was lucky, to become.

Nilla says…

Hi everyone (see me wavin’? Well, I am!  At You. Yup, you too!)

You might not remember this but when I went on a writing spree last week, and wrote something like 4 stories in one day, I told you I was stocking up on them, because I’d not be able to write at the end of the month.

Home improvement rears it’s horrible, ugly head once again. Once again, the Nilla and her wife will strap on….

—No—noo —hawhaw—-you guys, really! *snorts out a laugh at what YOU were thinking, and I know who you are, too!*

Our tool belts. Yes, women with power tools. A few weeks ago it was a new back door, this weekend. O.MY.GawD. Kitchen ceiling. I shit thee not. WE, two middle aged women, will climb bravely to the tops of our 5 foot ladders (hey, when you’re a petite pet who stands just  5′ 1″ tall, a 5 foot ladder is Nilla height!) and pull down our crappy, dilapidated  ceiling tiles, and TA-DA…install new ones.

Luckily, the neigbor that may have been inspiration for the Handyman (grins) across the street is an electrician and he will pull the lights down for us, then reinstall when we finish the ceiling (or die trying, my new motto, lol!)

All that said, I’m going to be writing this afternoon, and tomorrow, and setting up publish dates for Monday, Tues, and Wed. when I won’t have even a minute to browse porn, read your blogs, or comment on this one. Come, read and enjoy and if I still have use of my arms come Thursday I’ll start responding to all your comments, blogs, and stories.

I’ll have a bit of time on Sunday a.m. before the renovation begins, as Wife takes kids to church, but it’s limited time, so…I’ll be popping around the internet today, lookin’ at all your HNT’s for inspiration, and writing and writing and trying NOT to think about having my neck craned backwards for 3 days.

Hugs and slaps, (and I mean that in the BEST possible way!)


Shop Til You Drop…

He had pushed her headfirst into the shopping carriage. They were parked on the less travelled side of the grocery store, but still visable to any of the more adventurous shoppers who like them, were out so late, in the drizzle and gloom.

They had been out of milk, out of tea and coffee, and he was out of patience for her not getting this chore done while he was off helping a client sort out their latest pc disaster. When he had returned home several hours later, she was still in front of her computer. Due to her naked state, and the scent of arousal when he walked into the bedroom, he knew she’d been masturbating there, and had never gotten dressed, headed to the grocery store, and started dinner. So it was a tired, hungry, and angry Master who ordered his cuntwhore (a name he used only when he was  angry with her) to dress. He threw the outfit at her, a brief crop top, and short skirt, along with 3 inch heels. Not an outfit one would normally wear to buy milk in, but it was a punishment of humiliation and an exercise in obeying that he was instilling.

On the drive to the store, she was silent, sulking. As he pulled into the last parking space on the side, she looked at  him, silently wondering why he’d parked way the hell over here, rather than taking a spot right out front, since there were many available.

“You stole an orgasm from me.” It was a flat statement, not a question, and she flushed, and looked away.

“Right.” he said, then gestured her out of the car. In the store he took every opportunity to embarrass her. He loudly pointed out a pair of cantalopes that he said reminded him of her breasts, to the amusement of the young teen stocking nearby. Master waggled his eyebrows at the boy, who blushed. Master brought her over to the youth, who may have been all of 17. Let him stare. Smiled, then smacking her on her ass, told her to

“get a move on, there’s better things I want to do tonight rather than look at cantalope!” His leer let the boy know just what things those were, and Master chuckled to see the bulge bump out the front of the lad’s chino’s.

He rubbed her ass as she bent over to get the pretzels he wanted. Only the ones that were on the bottom shelf would do, which caused her to  flash her naked cheeks at an elder gentleman who was turning into  the isle.  “Turn in, turn on,” her  Master chuckled again. Master was certain that fellow would be sporting a woodie tonight, too.

As she reached up high for the cereal he liked, he grabbed under her upraised arm, holding it in place, then he leaned into her  and licked her cleavage.  She blushed deeply, although she could not see anyone, facing the racks of cereal as she was, she was certain he was ‘performing’ for yet another unsuspecting shopper. Her nipples rose as he gently blew on the flesh he had just dampened, and were clearly visable through the thin top. She looked him in the eye and whispered, “stop, please?” He just smiled at her and made a large “O” with his mouth. This then, was her punishment for “stealing’ an orgasm from him. She’d been on orgasm denial for 2 days now and gawd she’d needed to cum. He’d been unreachable by phone, refusing to take her call while he was with his client, so she had made an executive decision and “O’d” while watching porn on the internet. Big. Mistake.

Finally they made it to the checkout. Twenty items and it had taken the best part of an hour to traverse the store. The older fellow was right behind them, no doubt hoping to catch another glimpse of her ass. Master noted this, and as she leaned forward to unload the groceries, turned to wink at the fellow, and gently pulled the back of  her skirt up, flashing him another glance of her sweet round asscheeks. There was even a sheen of moisture on her inner thighs. Despite what she may say with her mouth, her body was hot for this kind of humiliation. He smiled.

They wheeled the carriage to their car, and unloaded the bags into the trunk. Once the cart was empty, he pushed it a short distance away, then closed the trunk of the car while grabbing her arm with his other hand. Pulling her forward, he firmly shoved her over the front of the carriage, pushing her head down to the bottom of the cart, exposing her lovely ass. She felt her skirt hiked up to her waist, and then his cock at the entrance of her dripping cunt hole. He fucked her wildly, rudely, loudly. He told her to cum, and she did. He kept pumping, and began torturing her clit, flicking, pulling, squeezing it, forcing her to cum again, then again. Finally he poured his seed inside her. Using the wetness between her thighs, he lubed three fingers and plunged them up her ass. She screamed, tried to rise up, but he pressed her back with his free hand, then used that hand to work her clit again.

“Can’t…” she moaned…”five times already, can’t…cum….”

But she did. And again. Finally, when she was limp, he pulled her from the cart, guided her into the car where he’d put a towel earlier. Locking the seat belt around her, his face in hers, he smiled.

“Two security cams on this side of the building hon. You’re gonna be a porn star at the grocer’s tonight!”

Camp Nekkink ch. 12

He hung her.

She wasn’t quite certain how he’d gotten around her protests, but he was a Master, her master now, and she had given herself to him. She didn’t take any committment lightly, but this was so new, so different. Oh hell, so exciting! This was her. Corinne the Boring. That’s what her best friend had called her, just a week or so ago. Ha! Wouldn’t Eva be surprised at her “boring” friend if she could see her now.

She was reclining, poised on one foot. Laying in the air, horizontal to the floor, her body made a perfect capitol “T”. A rope twined about her body, beautiful, the patterns and twists of rope, but also binding her tightly in place. At 48, she was still a lovely woman, but she had no idea that she would be able to be posed thus. Her arms were bound behind her back, a rope wrapped from her shoulders, cinching her large breasts, making them balloons that were slowly turning a deep crimson. More rope snaked down her torso, crossing on each side of her cunt, wrapping down to her left ankle, and back up to the beam she was suspended from. With her right foot planted on the floor to hold her steady, she could only watch as people came up to her, admired the rope work and her body. Hands fondled  her tits, pulled her nipples. Her Master stood behind her, one hand on her hip, the other lightly stroking her shoulder, occasionally reaching for her nipple and pulling it, hard.  She moaned, he smiled. He watched as some of her cunt dew accumulated on her inner thigh, then slowly slid over the soft flesh, to drip onto the floor.

“You may think you hate this, cunt, but your body says differently. You’re oozing so much wetness that the floor beneath you is  wet. That’s becoming quite a habit for you, isn’t it, little slut?” He laughed at her discomfiture. Sliding his fingers from her hip to her ass, he fondled that globe, then slid down the crack, following the hemp rope down to the opening of her cunt. He slid two fingers inside her, and wiggled them. She jerked and moaned, embarrassed, no, mortified. She was not slipping into any kind of “subspace” laying as she was. There were too many outside things bringing her awareness….strange hands on her body, his fingers arousing her, playing her like some kind of sex instrument, strumming his toy to a thrumming near-peak, but always leaving her just shy of completion.

“May I?” a voice asked from in front of her. He was standing much to close for her to be able to see him, just the jutting cock that was staring her in the face.

“Certainly,” said the voice of her Master.

WTF?? No! He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, would he  ??? And yet, the cock in front of her banged at her mouth forcefully, and He swatted her on the ass, while commanding her to

“Open your mouth, cunt!”  While she was facefucked by the strange Master before her, her Master was fucking her with his fingers, driving deeply into her wet hole, causing moans to mewl out of her around the cock in her mouth. It seemed like hours before a spurt of cum filled her mouth, then he pulled his cock out of her lips and spurted the rest of his load on her face and tits. She showed him what was in her mouth, as he grasped her chin, a neat trick since she was hanging sideways, but she did it, and was congratulated and ordered to swallow what she had.  Again her Master stopped fucking her just as her orgasm was ready to crest over. Again she moaned her frustration.

“My pleasure, cunt, remember that,” he whispered, leaning close to her. She felt his hands drop away from her, felt him stepping away from her.  Across the room from her, she could see a …a slave, she supposed, being beaten by two people, each taking a turn striking her with short crops. She couldn’t hear it, but she could see the woman jerk each time the crop met her flesh, and see the welt rising, and reddening.

She could hear a high whishing sound, then a moment later, a burning erupted across her back, snaking over her hip. She jolted, cried out in shock. Another whish, and other line of fire fringed from her hip around to her belly. Again a whish, again the sear of her flesh. She could feel the welts arise across  her flesh, her ass and back and hip, belly and breast. He left her legs alone, thank goodness, and then as quickly as it had begun, it was over. After the initial cry, she had been silent, although tears filled her eyes, and dripped silently onto the floor. She felt cool hands caressing her welts, heard one man say to Him, “she takes pain well,” heard her Master agree,  then felt him kiss her hip.  As the rope master bent to his task of unwinding her, she caught him smiling at her. She returned a weak  smile, sore, weary, but proud that she had taken yet another step on her journey. Damn that man could hit! An eternity later, she was free, and in His arms.