Oops!

She stood under the multi jets of the shower. One of the main reasons she’d bought this particular condo was the shower. It had triple jet heads overhead, side jets from each side, and even jets from the front. They could be set to pulse, to sprinkle and every combination in between.

It had been another in a series of long days. With the economy in shaky straights, she gladly worked the long hours at her job, but some days it was just so hard. She had not been out on a date in months, and sex? Ha! Her last date was definitely not sex material…he could barely stop talking trash about his ex, let alone get a woodie for her.

She bent a bit, tipping her head down so her long locks flowed over her face,  letting the pounding jets tap temptingly on her nape. Oooh, that was good. Hot, yes, and also relaxing. Soothing. Arms braced against the front wall, head bent in supplication to the shower goddess, she drifted off, letting the water wash her cares away. So transfixed was she, that she never heard the shower door slide open, the soft splash of feet in the stall behind her.

He slid behind her, and grabbed her around the waist with one hand, and with his other, clapped it firmly over her face, pulling her upright.  Her hair became a sodden blindfold as she reared back, slamming into the hard male body behind her. The very naked, hard male body with a very hard cock.

His voice growled into her ear.

“What the hell are you doing in my shower, lady?”

She froze.  What the fuck? His shower? She struggled, shaking her head to free her mouth. Her wriggling caused his cock to lodge in the deep cleft between her asscheeks, and he thrust his hips forward.

“Keep that up and I’ll do exactly what you’re hoping for,” he grunted.

She froze. Who the HELL was this guy? Her muffled voice asked the question. Then demanded him to leave. To Go. Take her purse, her car keys, whatever, just GO!

“This is my shower, my home and I’m not going anywhere,” he replied.

Through the tangled skeins of  hair, she could make out the bathroom. Not her towels. Her clothing trailed across the bathroom floor, but she’d entered the rooms with the lights out, head hanging, and just stripped as she made her way straight for the bathroom. She could  see her panties hanging on the bathroom door. She groaned. She’d miscounted the doors. The long corridor had multiple units and she must have missed her door.

“Oh, my God, I’m sorry. So sorry. I just moved in last week. I must have missed my door and wound up here.. I don’t know why my key worked in your lock, but I’m ever so sorry. Please, let me go and I’ll just head out and…” . . .  embarrassment flooded her, drying her words, and leaving her red-faced. She was also more than aware that her cunt was misbehaving, twitching to life as her neighbors cock pulsed gently against her backside.

“Okay, ” he mused, still holding her firmly in place. “I get that. But you’ve used my hot water. And trashed my apartment.”

“I did not! ” she protested hotly, twisting to face him. “It’s just clothing”

“Yeah?  Well,  it’s everywhere. Those are  your panties on the door there, yes? And your bra is stretched across my dining room floor. What if my business partner had accepted my invitation to dinner? ”

She looked down. That was a mistake. There was his cock, rampant between them. Even as she watched, it seemed to grow again. Longer, harder than any cock she’d seen before. Her nipples noticed, too, as they clenched and swelled towards his chest. He cupped her chin in his hand, smiled slowly down at her. She was mesmerized by his gaze and didn’t flinch when his hand slid around to tangle in her wet mane, pulling her hard against his chest, and dropping his mouth down to rest upon hers.

“You have 5 seconds to make a choice ,”  he said against her lips.

“Stay, or go….”

His cock pulsed against her belly, as her cunt pulsed between her legs.

At “3” he lifted her by her waist, and at “2” he began to lower her onto his swollen cock.

They both won, at one.

The Date

They’d been dating for a few weeks. He was always attentive, caring, solicitious. Their sex was great, hot, really. Again, his attention to the tiny details was never left undone.

Today was their one month anniversary. He’d sent her a text.

Anniversary dinner tonight. Dress to please me…your short black backless dress. Thigh highs and those black strappy heels that make your legs look like they go on forever. Go bold…no underwear! Dare you! See you at Cezar’s…730. N-

No underwear? Kinky. Her heart raced. That was one short dress. It would barely cover the top of her thigh highs…a shiver of nervous delight fluttered over her. What the hell! Why not.

At Cezar’s she got out of her car, saw him leaning negligently against the side of the building.  As the valet drove off in her car, she smoothed the front of her skirt, checked to be certain her nylons were in place. As he kissed her lips, his hand glided up her leg, and slipped up to her lower lips. He slid his finger very gently between them, gliding up and back, and making her jerk against him and moan low in her throat. Withdrawing his finger, he pulled away, and laid his wet digit against her lips. She opened her mouth, and he traced a design on her tongue, before she closed her lips around it and sucked it clean. 

 A fresh flood of juice oozed from inside her, and she worried that her wetness would be visible on her thighs. He was so bold!  He’d never been so forward with her in public  before. It was exciting.  It was also embarrassing, as she saw a  man staring unabashedly at them, throwing her a smile and wink.  She blushed.

He leaned towards her. Whispered into her ear.

“Tonight, I want you to call me Sir. And do all that I ask of you.  You’ve made a good start already. Can you do this for me? For us?” He drew back, looking deeply into her eyes. She was startled at his intensity, but immensely turned on as well. He was different. And yet, the same. But she felt the power shifting between them, and knew that tonight would be a turning point for them both.

“Yes,” she replied softly.

“Yes…what?” he prompted.

“Yes, …..Sir?”

He smiled, patted her arm and led her into the restaurant. The waiter came with their menu’s but he waved hers away.

“The lady will eat from my plate tonight,” he informed the waiter, making her blush again. She sat right next to him in the oval booth. So he could play with his toy, he told her.

His finger slipped down her cleavage, finding the buds which, under his probing, began to stiffen and jut upwards, greedy for more of his attention. Withdrawing, his finger journeyed south,  gliding down her midsection,  then further still,  to the juicy juncture of her thighs. He pulled her skirt up, slowly, and then, up even higher with that busy finger, until he tucked the front edge of her skirt into the belt at her waist.   Anyone across from them would surely see her cunt. His finger began sawing at the slit, drawing the moisture up and around her smooth mons. She worked hard to stifle a moan then, for his finger had pushed deeper into her sodden channel and found yet another bud to tease. His fingernail scratched hard at  her clit,  jolting her upright at the unexpected hurt. She was torn between pain and a blazing, wanton desire to spread her legs wide for him.  She  felt the oozing of fluids from her cunt begin to pool on the seat of the bench beneath her. 

 He glanced down when he heard the wet slurp emanating from  her cunt lips. He smiled. She flushed. Looking across the room, she was surprised, and appalled when she saw the waiter watching them.  She hissed at him to stop. Raising one eyebrow, he drilled deeper, looking for entry. She was shocked. Appalled. So incredibly turned on.

“Spread your legs, my little slut. You know you want to. I feel your juice oozing over my fingers. You’re soaked. Let me fuck you right here. Right now.”

The fierceness of  His  low tone brooked no argument, although she did cast one desperate look around the restaurant, catching the waiters eye. Her blush deepened, yet the sleeping slut in her awoke, and began to enjoy displaying her wantonness.  Slowly, she opened her legs and let him in.

As their food arrived, she was poised on the brink of a powerful orgasm. Her breathing was fast, her face flushed, and she needed to cum so badly. He withdrew his fingers, calmly and openly wiping them on his napkin, smiling at her discomfiture.

The waiter lingered at their table. The smell of wet cunt competed with that of the steaming steak he laid before them. He caught her eye, then her Sir’s.

“Can I get you anything else?” he inquired, smiling. Although his services were not required, he took up a post not far from them.

She was aching for release, hungry for more than the food, as delicious as it looked. Slowly he cut the steak into small bits, and began to eat. She watched him, chewing and smiling at her.  After watching him take yet another bite of what was obviously delectable food, she dropped her gaze to her hands, and said

“please, Sir, may I please have some of your steak?” He smiled at her bowed head, and lifted her chin with His finger, raised His fork to her lips, and fed her the morsel of meat.  Watched her while she chewed, swallowed. Sat with His chin cupped on his palm and gazed at her intently.  She had the same feeling she would have had if He’d followed her to the bathroom and watched her peeing. It was…unnerving, humbling, erotic and very exciting.  

 As she swallowed, she noted He’d taken a generous forkful of green beans. She knew that He knew how much she hated green beans.  And she knew for a certainty that His fork was going to wind up in her mouth. It did. Again, the intense stare as He watched her slowly chew the awful stuff.   Even prepared as well as it was…it was still green beans.  He smiled as she swallowed, grimacing at the taste.

He took another forkful of beans, ate them. Then more steak. Watching her, watching Him eat. Another plea, another bit of steak for her. No potato, no. That was His. Her cunt throbbed. What was He doing to her? Certainly not ignoring her, not with the way He was watching her. He was …studying her. She found it intensely erotic. Soul-baring. He knew she was turned on by this.  How, she hadn’t a clue.

He smiled at her as their meal wrapped up. He wondered how she would feel when they went back to his apartment, and she saw the website he’d loaded on the computer. A website her computer visited frequently. Little did she know, he knew  of her not-so-secret life. Of her sub desires. Of her carnal wants.  It would not be a secret for much longer.

He thought of the bed he’d prepared before heading to the restaurant. Of  the leather cuffs secured to the corner posts, and of the dildo,  anal plug and vibrator laying on his pillow awaiting use.

The waiter came back to their table and asked about dessert. He had enjoyed the scene playing out in front of him. He’d had an unobstructed view of the woman’s wet and gleaming pussy, watched the Man finger fucking her, knew she was unsatisfied. He was hoping to see the  big O by the end of dessert. He was doomed to disappointment this night, however.

“No thank you,”  He replied. “We’ll be having dessert at home tonight.”

She shivered in anticipation.  Although she was still feeling hungry, she had a feeling she’d be very full before this night was over.

She was right.

Camp Nekkink, ch. 23

The Bonfire was over. Dancing done. True to her promise to Master, she had danced like a woman possessed. And she had been, she supposed. Possessed of a need for him greater than her need for food, or water, perhaps even, of breath.  She was his playtoy, his painslut, molded by his hands to be so. 

Camp had given her a taste of most everything she had ever wondered about. Nothing she read on the internet, on blogs, on sex sites had prepared her for this experience. The fire on her ass from her earlier whipping was nothing compared to the fire that burned, pulsing deeply between her legs. The fire of want. The fire of need. She was his living flame, and the wetness that glistened on  her  inner thighs was not likely to put out the flame, but to fan them to greater heights.

Master Michael had been there, sitting next to her Master. She knew they were good friends, but she still was wary of the sullen-seeming Master. He was very harsh to her earlier, and her mouth had gotten her in trouble with him, and earned her a spanking, which still rankled.  She had seen his eyes traveling down her body, watching her tits dance and writhe  as she moved to the music of the bonfire. She watched as he and Master inclined heads together and smiled. Laughed. Pointed. The jerks. In that  moment , she felt like a side of beef at the market. A thing.  Objectified. Oogled. She hated that.  And yet, the swollen slickness between her legs belied her womans lib attitude. She may have hated it on the top of her mind, but deep inside, where her darkest desires hid, she knew, or more precisely, her cunt knew, that she wanted to be wanted. To be used. To be His toy.

Later, Master Chris had joined them. By then she was deep into her slut dance, feeling the beast uncurling inside her, and she noticed little else than her Master, his arm braced against his bent  knee, watching her intently. From that angle she could not see his crotch, but she believed she knew what she would find if she came over and lay her face into the center of him.

He signalled her to come over, ending her dance. Lust curled in her belly, brought her  nipples to full aching hardness. He reached up, jingled one bell, then pulled the clamps from her. Her moan of mixed pain and passion made him smile, and he looked at the wetness leaking from her.  Rising, he grasped her upper arm, and steered her through the darkness towards their campsite.

She was surprised when they arrived. Trailing behind them were Masters Michael and Chris. And her friend Slave was here! She had lit lamps and the area glowed softly against the dark mantle of night. The sound of crickets  and the soft whine of mosquito’s accompanied Cori’s deep, ragged breathing.  The scent of water from the nearby pond permeated the air, but strongest of all was the scent of her. Her overheated sex was pouting with desire, and her juices filled the clearing with the aroma of wanton woman. As they passed the picnic table, Cori noted that Slave had spread several sleeping bags around the ground, all connected.

Master pointed to the bedding.  She went, hesitated, looked over her shoulder, questioning him, silently. He continued to point. She lay down. Watched as all three Masters slowly divested themselves of their clothing. Three very hard cocks sprang into her view. Three hungry Masters stared down at the sexy slut that had just put on a performance worthy of any pole dancer.

“Tonight, slut, we’re going to make you air-tight,” said her Master, as he came to lay beside her.  She watched Master Chris go over to his Slave, and give her directions, quietly.

“Master Michael wants your mouth, and I expect you to please him as you have pleased me so well with that sweet mouth of yours.” He stroked her tits, pulling on her bruised nipples, smiling at her wince. He continued, “I will take your lovely ass. You’ve been stretching it all afternoon for me, and I’ve been looking forward to sliding that plug out of you, and replacing it with my cock. That leaves your cunt for Master Chris. His slave will also play with you, and us.  Clean you up between rounds.  When all three of us are buried to the hilt in you, sweet cunt, you’ll be fully “airtight”!  Again, and again, sweet pet, until each of us have used all of your holes.”   He smiled. A hungry smile. Like a wolf.

She liked wolves.

fff wk 13 Super Slut

fff13

What’s a poor Superhero to do? Already today she’d serviced Superman, Batman *and* Robin, the little pervert, and Wonder Woman. Oh, that one…she just never got enough rug munching.

She knew she really needed to get changed out of her working gear before some regular bloke saw her, sitting here, exhausted. But even Super Sluts get tired. All she really wanted was a warm bath, with some Dom, and a massage.

“Can I help you, miss?” came a voice very near her ear.

She opened her eyes with a start. She’d not even heard him approaching! Gah, She was seriously off her game tonight.

“oh, uh, no, no, I’m fine,” she replied, “really. Just…a bit …tired.”

“Your shoulders look quite tense to me. How about you lean forward a bit, and let me slip behind you and give you a brief rubdown?”

He seemed a harmless type, and he wasn’t even oogling her still-bare breasts.  Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt just this one time, to be seen by a mortal, helped by one.

“Oh, well, uh, if you’re certain you don’t…mind?” she replied, a bit hesitantly.

“Not a problem. You look beat.” He held up his hands, front, then back. “See, clean! No tricks here, Miss, just a treat.”

She shuffled forward a bit and felt the warmth of his body behind her. His strong hands settled on her shoulders, smoothing her skin softly, teasing her nape with a light touch, then sliding gently down the slopes of her shoulders. Over and over again his palms eased across her flesh…now sliding forwards, then cupping her throat, her nape. She felt his breath on her hair, and was that the briefest of kisses? Her eyes fluttered shut, her body relaxed, pliant as she gave herself over to the relaxing pleasure this stranger was giving to her.

She never felt the wrist cuffs go on, woke only when his hands began to cup and fondle her breasts, as her breath rasped through a throat suddenly gone dry with lust…

“I have you now, my beauty!” He crowed softly in her ear. “Sitting here at the Wishing Bench, you wished for a  massage.  And a Dom.”

She gasped! Oh no! She’d been caught, finally, by the Genii’s double-edged wishing bench….

“Wait…where’s the Bubble Bath I wished for?” she asked, pouncing on him verbally, for she could not struggle with her arms cuffed behind her.

He scooped  her up in his strong arms, nuzzled her breast with his mouth, drawing a moan from her.

“Later,” he murmured, “much, much later, my dear.”

There was a flash of light, a puff of smoke. When it cleared, they were gone.

Later it is said, came the mysterious sounds of giggles and splashing water. But that is a story for another day!

HNT 11/19/09

special thanks to sin’s Master for the analogy, and to my own Sir for…stirring the pot…nilla

Dancing in the Vanilla world

she was content

she thought.

Then she discovered the Chocolate World.

And discovered in her heart

that vanilla was not enough.

She danced between two worlds.

And became

swirled.

Camp Nekkink Ch. 22

Cori and her Master walked slowly towards their campsite. It was late afternoon, and the ebbing of the day presaged the final hours of Camp Nekkink. There was an aura of sadness that permeated the air, dancing with the ebullience of the total freedom of these kinksters. Naked people still dashed to and fro, some chased, some errand running, some were just health nuts out for their afternoon jog, kink style.

Her ass and back were a mass of fire, her cunt still raw. She wore only a stainless steel butt plug, size medium, which she and Master had won for his whipping skills. A dubious honor, she felt, as she waddled towards the tent site. A butt plug was a strange thing. It filled one, and stretched the anus, but it also aroused. The weight of the plug was a constant reminder of its presence in her ass, but the neck was still small enough, the flare large enough, that she wasn’t worried that her ass would swallow it. 

“And wouldn’t that be a fun visit to ER?” she mused with a grin.

She was having the time of her life. If you were going to jump into the kink pool, you might as well go into the deep end, she figured. And she had. And come up a winner. She grasped his hand as it lay across her shoulder, squeezing it gently as she gazed up at him. He had taught her, led her, forced her to face….herself.  She’d done things this weekend she’d never, ever imagined she’d be able to do in a million years.  He smiled down at her. She wondered how long it would take for her to convince him to fuck her. Who knew she was such a needy, wanton bitch?  And at her age?  She’d seen more action here than she’d seen in…probably 10 years or more! She reached over to his crotch with her hand, subtle and stealthy, but his hand forestalled her.

“Not yet, cunt. I have a surprise for you later. We’re waiting until after the camp bonfire. All the slaves come out and dance for their Masters and Mistresses. I’ll expect you to be there and dancing for me. Turn me on with your wicked tits. Entice me with that gorgeous ass of yours. Let everyone see how much you need me, want me, and they’ll fall away for you, and there will only be me. I want to see that desire in your eyes, in your body, in your movements. Your only ornaments will be your bell clamps, and your collar. You will do  this for me.  Show me your inner slut. Let her dance for me.”

Mesmerized, Cori nodded. She would dance for Him. Give him the gift of her wantonness. Show him her woman’s body, her woman’s needs. The heat of the bonfire would be nothing to the heat that she would kindle between them.

A Nilla Note

Sorry to everyone who ‘tuned in’ this weekend for Cori’s and Master Dave’s story…it’s coming to an end, and the next two chapters are …unfortunately, only in my head.

I’ve been dealing w/the H1N1 myself for the last 9 days, and although I’m finally on the mend, it was a very kick-ass illness for me. There are several days I have no memory of. All I can say is “thank You to the Tamiflu”.

Now that my head is clearing I’ll do some more writing, so expect the closing of Camp Nekkink later this week. I have one more short piece that is begging to be written, likely later today.

Thanks as always for the ongoing cheers and support of my writing. It’s something that feeds my spirit and has kept me (ahem) sane!

Nilla

The Leap

She stood at the edge of the cliff and looked out across the vast expanse. Behind her, safety. Family. Laundry. Ahead of her the abyss yawned, the bottom hidden by the dark ness of her fantasies. She took a halting step forward, peering over, when…

*KNOCKKNOCK* “M-OOOOOM…..are you in there?”

The loud pounding on the bathroom door preceded the invading forces of her three children.  Gone was the dream, the yearning, now there was only peanut butter, an urgent pee call, and one hell of a mess in the living room to clean up before the spouse came home from work in an hour.

“I made it through another day, ” she mused quietly, as she fell back against her pillows that night. She loved her life, she truly did, but.

“Hmmm, yes, that BUT.” she thought. “it’s like an elephant in my mind, always there, but I’ve been stepping around it for so long I’ve been able to convince myself it’s nothing.”

Lately the elephant has woken. It’s trumpeting call woke her at night. Her loins throbbed with the rhythm, her nipples hard nuggets that rubbed against the sheets. The dark dreams. She was tied, blindfolded, bent to pleasing Him, which pleased her.

On the outside, the vanilla She went placidly about her days. Sneaking time at the computer, writing her stories of wicked eroticism, her fantasies come to life on the monitor in front of her, the flames of passion licking between her thighs, flickering in the light of the dark room in the glow of the screen. This Otherworld, this chocolate life, filled her. Breathed in through her nose, and leaked out through her wet pussy. She wrote of Him, wrote of his touch, both tender and hard. She wrote of the taste of his cock, the feel of his breath on her hidden folds; of the throb of needs clashing together, the sigh of fulfillment as needs were met. The pounding heart was hers. The wet moisture, hers again. He was hers. He lived only in her imagination.

And then He was there. On her monitor, his voice echoing in the canyon at the edge of the void.

“If you leap, I’ll be there to catch you.”

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

She stood outside the hotel room door. Drawing in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. The lines she had crossed, the lies told. These would be held in her heart, forever. Her penance for joy. Nodding to herself, she knocked softly on the door.

It opened. And she leapt.

Let the Punishment…

She remembered each transgression. She let them scroll through her mind as she waited. Nervously, she bit her lip. Stopped herself. Outwardly, at least, she wanted to project a calm demeanor. Inwardly, she was quaking.

There was the time she’d messed up the laundry. Didn’t realize the little one had left her red crayon in her pocket, and it came out all over His crisp white work shirt, his light gray socks, and his jockey shorts. He’d been pretty steamed about the shirt, but was even more annoyed about his white jockeys covered with pinky-red dots. She’d thought they were hilarious. Until he’d had her hold her arms out, and he pegged every ruined piece onto her flesh. Each nipple held a sock, held there tightly by clothes pins. On her back, his shirt was pegged, the flesh at her shoulders pulled tightly and clipped, the shirt hanging by the shoulder seams.  Her legs had been pulled wide apart and held with the spreader bar he rarely used, and the two pair of underwear were hung one to each of her cuntlips. He made her stand there for the length of a dryer load, his living, breathing clothing rack, wracked with the dual pains of failure and pinched flesh. After the load was ‘done’ he pulled each garment firmly, eliciting a sharp tug of pain and a permanent reminder…always check the pockets.

Then there was the time she’d forgotten to fill the gas tank before his trip. He’d dressed her like a pony girl, something she hated with a passion, and taken her to a play party at a private estate, where she was forced to provide  rides. Holding the side bars of the special cart, she ‘pranced’ around the courtyard, to the amusement of the guests. He, of course, was last, and demanded a very long ride…both in the cart, and in her ass, afterwards.

The little things, he would instruct, help with, or simply ignore, so her life was not one of expected perfection. No, it really was the biggest things he would be upset with.

The phone rang. With a nervous jump in her belly, she answered it.

“Yes?”

“So, you forgot to call the van lines and have the limo come get me at the airport?”

“Yes. I-I had the dates confused, I-”

He cut her off.

“Is the baby with your Mother as I asked?”

“Yes. She said she would be happy to take care of her all weekend. She even took today off of work …she said Friday was her slow day anyway…” she ran out of steam, and listening to the silence on the other end of the phone, she shut up.

“Come down and open the door, cunt.”

She flew down the stairs, opened the door. There He stood, his bags on the front stoop. Beside him, his best friends, Tom and Nathan. They looked at her nude body in open appreciation.

“You really fucked up, you know,” He said quietly  as he moved into the house, his friends right behind.

Patting her on the ass as he passed her in the hall, he sent her back upstairs to wait for her punishment. 

It would fit the crime.

She was fucked.

The Artist

She drew a deep, slow breath. He stood behind her, she could feel him, feel the soft caress of his breath against her nape. In the darkness that surrounded her, he was the painter, drawing light around her.

His finger lightly grazed the skin of her shoulder, gliding softly down the gentle slope and slipping down her arm. Just one digit. Just the barest of touches. Yet, the path of heat that followed warmed her, aroused her.

She felt.  The carpet, soft beneath her bare feet. The eddies of air moving around her nakedness. The finger gliding now along her back ribs, up, then down. Rising to her other shoulder, trailing down that arm. Back up to dance gently in the ticklish flesh of her underarm.

Her breasts rose and fell quicker now, her breath increasing. Her desire was lit with an inner snap, as his finger coursed down her spine to stop just before entering that final crease, and traced instead the rounded globe of her ass. She felt, acutely, the sudden tightening of her nipples, felt the flat pink disks become hard, turgid, thrusting. An answering thrum began in her clit, and deep inside she could feel moisture begin to gather and seep.

He watched the transformation. Passive statute became living, excited woman. He drew life on her flesh with his finger. The artist drew his canvas ever closer, and began his Master work.