Butterfly 1.

Pinned to the wall by Him.

By the eyes. His eyes. They stare at me. He doesn’t blink. He examines my face. Takes in every detail. Sees me, giving him all. All of me. All His. Not only because he says so…but because i made the choice. To come here, to become His.

He owns me.

And he takes care of what he owns. Nurtures it. Plays with it. Hurts it. Whatever pleases him.And right now, i please him.

I can see it. In those eyes that have pinned me here. A slutty butterfly, pegged out and waiting to be stroked.

With his hand.

With his mouth.

With his belt.

I yearn for him. And he knows. He knows my head. He knows my heart. He knows my need. He’s fed it well. All these weeks of waiting, talking, teasing. All the days of imagination, of self play, of self pity. All the hours i’ve prepared.

For this.

Eyes locked together. He smiles as his hand cups my breast. Smiles as i wince under the pincer grasp of his fingers as he squeezes hard and harder, seeking my nipple, seeking my acceptance.

The exit light is off. There is no turning back.

I am his slut.

I am his toy.

I am.

For Him.

nilla….and notso nilla…

Sir and i were exchanging emails and texts about the juxtaposition of my life as a vanilla mom, and my life as His slut.

i’d just bought a tiger…zebra? whatever the hell animal print…bra. He’s seen a few pix of it, loves it. I wore it to our “mini-meet” a few weeks ago.  He loved it IRL, too. Loved that i wore it “for him”.  Because i did, indeed do it for Him.

But so many pix i send him have me in my blue flannel shirt (which was rescued from skunk smell…don’t ask me how it worked out, but YIPPEE!). He calls it “signature nilla’. He recognizes that essentially, i’m pulling myself out of my “comfort zone” to be his slut. And understands that i’ve not felt sexy in a very long time. (My wife does not think i am sexy. Part of the whole lack of sex thing. )

My vanilla world is all earthy, crunchy. Flannel shirts, tank tops, corduroy skirt, wool sox, slipper or my blue outside boots (those almost-sneaker boots).  You all know that about me anyway.

But there’s this new flavor in my vanilla world. Vanilla with a touch of slut. (grins) I wear makeup ALL the time.  And since Sir likes my slut look, i do a slightly (not much slightly, but enough that it passes vanilla wife muster) less slutty look for real-life.  i have always been a make up slut. Ever since my first green eyeshadow when i was 14. Dolly Parton was my idol. Man that woman could wear makeup (still does, too!) I think i related to her because she has those giant tits…and at 14 i was also very big breasted. As in “C” cup. Really.

So anyway, i figure that, if i’m always in sluttymakeup mode, no one will be the wiser when i head out for a Sir meet all dolled up. Devious. Deceitful. Naughty.

When i go see Sir, i have a wee bag of things. Extra make up (naturally!), sexy stockings, sexy panties, sexy bra.  He takes care of the shoes.

Did i mention i only wear slippers? Flat slippers?

How hard it was to accept that He wanted me in heels. The blindfold he requires….not a problem. Spanking? Sure i was game for that. Heels? 5 1/2 inch heels? On a 5 foot 1 inch nilla…ridiculous. Past silly. nods.

Then he took them out of the box. Oh. My. Fucking. Gawd. First of all, those are fucking tall heels!!!  But…so sexy. Black and white. Beautiful. Stunning. As He said, “sexy, but classy…like you, nilla.”  *blush*

I was so worried that i would make all this effort to break out my vanilla fantasies and swirl myself in this world i am so curious about…and not be able to go through with any of it. The mental shifting was so funny. Hiking, camping, wool sox wearing,  nature woman becomes slut.

You know what? nilla did! (smiles)

Somehow, it all compartmentalized itself neatly. Vanillamom on one side, sexy slutty subbie on the other. They co-exist very well together. sss is sure glad to have had a chance to come out and play.

and did she ever. Stepped out of the bathroom, submissively obeying Sir to come out, all sexed up, all slutted up…in miles tall heels.

damned if i wasn’t every inch as sexy as HE told me i was.

Power of the Dom.

Now that’s one hell of a power exchange.

nilla is sexy.

Because Sir showed me i am.

Thank You Sir.

nilla.  is. so.  sexy!

(a tiny p.s. here to say a huge THANK YOU to all my readers! Vanillamom has just hit 25,000 views this morning! Wowza! Thank you all so much for coming, visiting, commenting, and reading, and did i say cumming? *grins*!!)

FFF 2/26/10 Stripped poker (226 words)

They met, as they did every Friday, at Mary’s house. She was the unattached one, the freethinker, the…deviant of their threesome. They’d played together for so many years now that they virtually knew every nuance of each other’s play.

Mary opened her beer, took a long gulp.

“New game, ladies,” she stated, her honeyed whiskey voice overriding the girl talk and teasing. 

“What?” said Sue, surprised. They’d not played a new game in…well, since they learned Hearts a few years ago.

“What now,” said Molly, resigned. She was stuck in a rut, rather depressed, and it had been a shit hole of a week. Now she had to engage her brain and try to learn something else. Fuck.

“Strip Poker.”

There was no sound in the room. Molly looked at Sue, Sue looked at Molly. As one, they turned on Mary. Their disbelief, shock, and a wee bit of intrigue was predictable.  Mary guided them down the path she wanted. Eventually, when the beer was about half gone, she got them to play the first hand. Then another. Another beer, another hand.

When Mary unexpectedly lost her bra, the hilarity reached new heights. Soon after, the other two were also down to their panties and stockings.

Mary excused herself to get more refreshments. Her Master was in the kitchen, where he had a clear, albeit hidden, view of the goings on.

“See,” he told her,  “I knew you could do it.”

(nilla is over by 13 words- uh oh!)

First Meet

Chloe (http://obey.thenaturalorders.com), (she’s on the blogroll over there…go, look!) had put out a post about the first words we ever said to our Dominant One.

I had a migraine the day i typed mine, so it was kinda incoherent. So for posterity’s sake, i’m redoing it, here.

First the words, then the back story. It’s funnier that way, trust me.

He said: “you know why he couldn’t make that turn, don’t you?”

nilla said: ” OMG! i thought he was going to kill me before i ever got the chance to fuck you!”

So if you’ve read any of the nilla back story, you may recall that i’m a vanilla, lesbian, wife/partner of 32 years w/4 kids. Met Sir via innernets (Thanks Fet Life!) and after hearing his side of things…it’s a miracle that we ever hooked up! Isn’t karma a good thing sometimes?

So we plan a meet, but he can’t make it…family emergency. Then we plan another meet, but it’s like 4 weeks later (my ability to schedule free time is  more limited than his). Major nor’easter hits New England and although i didn’t get much snow (7 inches) his area got nailed by over a foot. Meet kaput.

So we plan another meet. We’re into our 3rd month online, texting, phoning. We’ve really gotten to know each other by now, and are really enjoying each other. We set a third date. Local for me. As in…5 minutes from my house, local. NO traffic woes, no getting lost…easy peasy.

He calls me from the hotel as i’m brushing my teeth. He’s there, time to come along.


nilla is dancing as she hurriedly dons coat, scarf, boots, mittens. It’s an absolutely frigid day. Brrrrrr. I get to the hotel in about 3 minutes (hey, it’s downhill!). Call him from the car as he asked. He says “wait there, I’ll come and get you.”

I get out of the car, go around to the other door to get my stuff out. Wind is whipping my hair all around my face, i’m blinded by it. Hear a noise. Look up. A fucking tractor-trailer (it’s a popular motel for truckers to rest in, with a restaurant there as well) is coming up the narrow lane.  He’s going to make a turn just after my car to park his rig on the far side of the lot.

Can’t turn worth a fucking damn.

Backs up.  I know Sir is on the sidewalk on the other side of the truck. I can see his legs. I’m standing between my car and Sir’s. Truck backs up. Tried to take the corner again. Can’t….. and is edging ever closer to nilla’s wee little matchbox car. And nilla.


Fuck. I’m going to be killed. Standing just here. And it’s like a funny, sick-o dream. My feet won’t move. I’m staring in horror at the truck, mouth open, wind whipping my hair everywhere…scared to death that this maniac is going to kill me before i ever, ever get spanked, tortured, fucked, or even kiss my Sir! While Sir watches. So much for the Vanilla Mom! She came, she tried, she was fucked…by a truck. Giggle….

Truck moves forward. There’s Sir…he gestures to me…calls out, “C’mon NOW, nilla” and i bolt across the parking lot, praying the fucking idiot won’t back up when i’m right behind him.

Fast forward to the two lines of conversation at the top. I’m gasping and laughing and Sir is gripping my arm tightly, as he leads me inside.

“All your fault, you know?” Sir says, looking down at me.

“huh” nilla responds brilliantly, still dealing with 1000 cc’s of adrenaline…

“He was lookin’ at YOU! You Fucking Blinded him with how pretty you are…”


(later, after much kissing and soothing of nilla… Sir tells me that he was sure that a guy would show up at the hotel. And how happy He is that “you’re all that you advertised, nilla-girl” …but that’s a story for another day….)


The slap of the belt across her ass came without warning.

Moving across the room on cat-quiet feet, He’d managed to surprise her. Again. As the stiff, unyielding leather thwacked against her smoothly curved bottom, the fleshy mound responded attractively. First tensing in the afteraffect of the blow, then blushing pink, then the full bloom of rose. He loved that color on her ass. Loved her response to his violence. Controlled violence, but nonetheless…what he did to her flesh could be termed nothing else.

And she loved it.

He admired the strength of that. He enjoyed the need of that. He took her to places she was afraid to visit, could not visit, not alone. Danced her into the darkness, and through it. To a place where the heat of their combined needs illuminated them both.

The belt came down on her ass once more.


He had her vulnerable. Tied securely to the four posts of the bed, she had very little wiggle room. He sucked hard on one pert nipple causing her to moan and arch, as if trying to force more tit into his mouth.

He released the nipple with a loud sucking ‘pop’ that echoed in the large room. “Greedy slut” he laughed down at her, her eyes, heavy-lidded with her desires. Her makeup was already smudged, giving her a lovely ‘used’ look. He’d fucked her already, deep into her ass, shoving her beautiful face across the bedcover as he plowed his way forward into her tight heat. 

He smacked her tit, and again the sound moved around the room. The music of lust, he mused, recalling his vicious grunts as he worked in and out of her lush bottom, her mewling cries as her ass was reamed, her small voice begging for permission to cum with him. That was some kind of music, he thought with a smile, the music he enjoyed most of all.

His finger danced over and around her clit, barely making contact before moving away. He’d played this game with her before, winding her up, making her beg, plead, moan and groan for her release. This time would be different.

“Tell me about your nightmare.” His voice was quiet, but firm. She had steadfastly refused to discuss it, but again and again she woke with real fear.


He rubbed over her clit again, harder, making her rise up into his hand.

“Want more?”

She nodded vigorously. He went back to drawing languorous circles around her rising pleasure button.

“Tell me about your nightmare.” This was his “do it” voice. He looked at her eyes, finger still busy teasing at her engorged clit. He watched her blink, stare at him. Deer in the headlight kind of look, he thought, but it was past time to deal with this. She shook her head, but reluctantly. This time, he knew, he would break her.

“Tell.ME. about. Your. Nightmare.” Each word a terse bullet, punctuated by a pinch on her clit.

She moaned. She’d been taught to obey his every order but this…She sighed. He kept eye contact with her, kept his finger circling her narrow point of need.

“I-i’m at work,” she began, voice faltering. “he comes in the door. i’m alone, and he knows it. He shows me his knife.  I told you this part before…i don’t see why you…” her voice trailed off.

“a knife like this one?” He held up a hunting knife his friend let him borrow. The blade gleamed, a silver flash of malice. She gasped.

“Yes! oh gawd…wha…what are you doing with…” she trailed off as he fingered into her cunt with one hand, and placed the knife on her belly with his other. It lay there,  warmed from his body heat, glinting with every breath she took.

He gently fucked her with his hand, watching as her eyes went from the knife gently rising and falling on her torso, to his as her pleasure began to mount. When she would have stopped, he urged her on.

“I’m instructed to lock the door. Turn off the lights. He pulls me down the hallway to the bathroom.  I’m shaking, so hard i can hardly walk, but the knife is poking into my back and i go forward one step at a time.” her voice was trembling  in remembered fear.

He pulled his fingers from her slick sheath, and began circling her clit again.

“What happens next,” he asked, his voice gently soothing.

“oh gawd, please don’t make me…” His fingers pinched her clit, eliciting a moan of pure lust.

“Want some more of that?” he asked.

“mmmmm” she nodded her head.

“Then keep talking, ” he commanded, his voice suddenly stern. “All the way through it, little slut. You stop, I’ll stop. I’ll leave the room and come back when I think I’m ready to hear your finish it.”

She knew he’d make good on that promise/threat. He’d done that once before when she’d defied him, back in the early days. He’d gone out to dinner with a buddy, and not returned for 5 hours. She shivered, and not from dream-fear this time.

“He pushes me to stand in the door of the stall. He throws a white rope over the door frame, and then ties my hands up over my head. He ties each leg to each side of the door frame. I want to kick him but i’m so scared he’ll stab me that i don’t.” Her voice faltered as he picked up the knife, and began lightly tracing it across her tits, tapping her nipples, dragging the tip down her belly to her mons, then back up, even while driving her crazy with lust as he tormented her clit.

She picked up the story again as his eyes flashed into hers, and ignored the twin sensations. The light tracing of the knife was actually turning her on. She could feel wetness begin sliding out her cunt, and trail down between her ass cheeks to drip onto the bedsheet beneath her butt.

“He slides his hand up under my skirt. Other than telling me to lock the door, he’s not spoken to me. Not a word. I feel his hand exploring my ass, feeling for my pussy. He reached up and pulled down my pantyhose, and i feel the knife on my ass as he cuts away my underwear. I’m so scared, scared he’ll cut me, scared he’ll kill me.  He puts the knife on the floor, I can see it there between my legs. It’s like a promise of a threat. I can barely swallow, then i hear his fly go down. My skirt is up around my waist, and he’s putting his cock inside me. I think of You. Scream in my head for you. He reached around front and unhooks my bra. His hands up under my shirt, he’s pulling and squeezing them, rolling my nipples.”

He interrupted her.

“Like this?” and he rolled and pinched her nipples.

“Oh nooooo,” she moaned, “You hurt me way better than he did…” and she moaned again as he pulled and squeezed her little bud, then repeated it with the other. He took up the knife again, a little more pressure, not cutting her flesh, but hard enough to make thin marks on her.

“Go on,” he urged as he traced something on her tits. Over and over the knife bit into her skin, not breaking it but scratching. She moaned loudly as  his finger pinched her clit, hard.

“He fucks me, but i don’t really feel it that much. His cock is way smaller than Yours. I feel his cum splashing on my thighs, dripping out of me. He pats my ass. He picks up the knife, wipes the blade and handle on me, because some of the cum got on it. Then he cuts my ankles free, and my hands. He pushes me to the toilet, forces my head down into the bowl, and i fight back, thinking he’s going to drown me…

….my face goes into the water, i’m choking and trying so hard to hold my breath…and he lets me up.  ‘Doan say a fucking thing about this to nobody, got it fuckhole?’ he says to me. I nod, so scared. He pushes me into the toilet again, his hand tied up in my hair. I start to see spots, think, i’m dead…and he let’s go of my hair. I pull up out of the toilet, choking, crying, and throw up.  When i look around, he’s gone. Then i wake up.”

He drew the knife from forehead to her clit. Her eyes never left the glinting blade. But instead of fear, he read curiosity. Maybe even hunger. Knife play would soon be part of their playtime.

Later, when he released her from the bed, she looked to see the scratches on her chest. He had neatly written “My   Slut”  in his meticulous handwriting. 

She never did have that dream again.

musings and woes….

Okay, woes first…my computer has a virus. And it’s been a bitch to “cure”. Computer guy has been out twice, and will need to come out again, because the ‘malware” that he recommended we get won’t load. And I can’t connect to the innernets on “my” account, only on wify’s and that just stresses me the hell out. Sir’s blackberry is malfunctioning, and he can’t read my texts, nor send them, so yesterday was a very quiet, boring day at work without us zinging back and forth. Sigh. I miss that.

Then i was thinkin’ and worring about Sephi, who was on a plane from the UK to the USA. Sephi, i’m still sending virtual hugs, and i feel you hurting, sister.

And with the computer woes…how will i get stories posted? Okay, so i’m here now, but i’m stressed about it so my story writing will have to wait. About 5 minutes. I’ll have a cuppa, and then do some yoga breathing, and admire my freshly colored red hair (gawd i’m such a vain creature…but my hair has awesome POW today! Sir will be soooo happy when he see’s it…verrah soon…wink, wink…see i’m feeling less stress already!)

And that brings us to musings. You know last time we were together was my first (*blush*) time with a guy in. well. um. longer than some of my readers have been alive, i’d imagine. (grins)  And it was Awesome. hmmmmm….(nilla pauses, closes eyes, humms to self….) yeah. oh my. But that was like 7 weeks ago. Bruises all faded away,  even though he was pretty gentle on me, for my first time and all. Did i mention how much i love spanking? What, only a dozen times?? hahaha! Well, he’s promised to blister my butt this time. Told me in great detail. Gawd he’s so funny about it. He has this evil, but sensual chuckle when he tells me something diabolical…and i get wet. And then he asks me…”did that make you wet, nilla?” Well, um, yeah. He’s in my head, bigtime. And i like him there. I like who i am with him, guiding and directing me.

I’m happy.

Despite the computer. Despite squabbling, sick-of-the-winter kids. Despite bitchy wife. Despite cat puking up balloon ribbons. Despite the skunky dog.

I’m happy.


He pulled her hair, hard. She gasped, head pulled back with her ponytail, back arching. For a moment she wondered if He would break her in half.  She felt his teeth at her neck, biting hard small bites from below her ear to where her neck and collarbone met. That bite was the hardest and deepest. She felt it from her neck down through her seeping pussy, to her heels. She rose up a bit, into his ravaging teeth, cocking her head to the side even as he continued pulling back and back on her ponytail.

With a suddenness that had her lurching a bit, she was released, but then was whirled to face Him. Eyes masked, she was confused as to her position until she felt his hands grabbing at her tits. First cupping, then lifting, then squeezing, he toyed with her ripeness until his fingers reached the very tips. She felt his hands slipping away, until her nipples were held by his thumb and forefinger. He pulled, and tightened his grasp. She moaned as he pulled further and further away. 

Such tiny bits of flesh to control her by, she thought, trying to not fight him. He was watching for her to lean just a tiny bit, she knew. She held her ground, wincing behind the eyemask, her mouth drawn into an ongoing “oooohhh” of pain.

He lifted now, as he pulled, slowly but steadily bringing her to her tiptoes, even as he continued steadily pulling forward. Her nipples were screaming, twin points of pain, and her breath was becoming ragged and labored.  Her moan became a mewling sound, tears leaked from under the mask and dripped from her face to her chest, and yet he still pulled.

She envisioned him pulling her nipples completely off, tucking them into the pocket of his jeans as a trophy. Fucking sadist!!! She didn’t think she could take any  more …and then he let her go. The release of the pinching grip was almost as painful.

She felt him stroke gently down her chest, petting and caressing the very flesh he’d tormented moments before. Lifting her left breast, he took the tortured peak into his mouth, sucking gently and laving it with his tongue.

Her moans turned from pain to pure pleasure, even as his free hand began sliding up and down her slit. She fucked out at that hand. He stopped. She groaned in frustration. He sucked her nipple a bit harder, and she moaned again.

The path between pleasure and pain was so very narrow.

FFF 2/19/10 Yo HO ho…

His booty &  treasure

sat in a chest

but twas her chest he

wanted to wrest

out of his frock-coat

and onto her knees

to sample his cock

his manhood to please.

Then spin her about,

push her face in dubloons

and push his hard cock

deep between her moons.

Hear her gasp!

Hear her cry!

Such terrible delight

For she was pirate booty

on his rack tonight.

He claimed her, took her

rode her hard,

rode her deep,

She moaned, begged & pleaded

for her release.

Set her ashore on a faraway land-

She’d not be fucked

like that again.

spank me…i’m over by 2 words. *smile*