Alone pt 1


The word resonated in her head for a few minutes. Family packed off on their trip, she had come home to an empty, soundless home. She sat for a moment, just letting the stillness pervade her spirit.

It was so rare to have the entire house to herself.  She knew exactly how she would spend it. She made her way upstairs to her room. She and her husband had taken to sleeping apart since the kids had come along.  It made their sex life go from little to none, but really it’d been none for so long before her move that she was okay. She had her toys, and control over her own body, her own sexual awareness. She knew just how to pleasure herself.

She undressed slowly, hanging each item up on the rack, until she was nude. Her tits rose and fell, the nipples budding up under the breeze thrown into the room by the window fan.

Today was the day. She was going to try some real bondage. She’d fantasized about it enough, now it was time for the real deal. Just thinking about it made her cunt begin to leak. She opened the faux book and removed the handcuffs and key. These weren’t cheap Halloween cuffs…no these were from the online store that sold the heavy stuff.  She felt the weight of them against her palm. A nervous shiver ran through her, and her nipples hardened further with her arousal.

Long ago she’d fastened large eye-bolts to the wall by each side of   her  bed. The “eye” was large enough to fasten one cuff through. She did this, then checked the key to make certain it would open. It worked fine. She refastened the cuff to the bolt. Today she would only fasten one wrist. Later, she might try cuffing her wrists together in front while she fucked herself with her big vibe, but for now, she wanted to get that “chained slave” feel, but still having one hand loose.

She took out her vibe, her dildo, her lube, and lay everything out in arms reach, and her cell phone. Her husband was planning to call tomorrow, but she was never certain if he’d call earlier. She smiled thinking of that conversation…

“honey, I tried to call you but there was no answer”

“well, sweetie you see,  i  handcuffed myself to the wall in my room and couldn’t get to the phone…”

Oh yeah, wouldn’t that go over like a lead balloon?

She lay back and began to spin a fantasy. She’d been kidnapped by a sex crazed lawyer. He wanted her to cum and cum and she tried so hard to not be aroused by him…wait!

She dug in the box on her nightstand, and found her nipple clamps. Okay they were clothespins, but she’d spent her budget on the cuffs…

Ready again, she mouthed “no pleasure without pain, slut” and was immediately immersed in the nasty world of the darkly sexy lawyer and his evil plot to take her, take her sex juices, and create an exlir to control mankind….

OMG! Wait! She forgot! Laughing at herself, she slipped her left hand into the cuff and fastened it with a click. Carefully she placed the key under her pillow. Her heat had cooled, and the near-orgasm stop only increased her need to cum. Her fantasy changed;  now she was aboard a pirate ship, and the captain was using her, using her, and if she didn’t please him with all her  holes, he would turn her over to the crew.

He fucked her harder and harder. She pulled desperately on her cuff to try to free herself. Thrashing her head, she felt her orgasm coming, proof that he would control her body, would control her. Her pillow slid away off the side of the bed as her heels hit the mattress, thighs clenched tightly together as she screamed out her pleasure….and collapsed, spent.

She must have dozed. That was the most awesome, wicked orgasm she had ever given herself. Her tits throbbed, and she slowly, carefully removed first one clip, then the other. Oh My FUCKING GAWD!! she crooned. She rubbed one nipple then the other. She hurt, she’d never fallen asleep with the fucking things on before and now..oh, owies.

Her arm was getting sore, and she reached for the key to release her wrist.

Her pillow was on the floor on the right side of her bed. The key should be here. Where the fuck was it? She sat up as much as she could, and felt around the sheets. In the dim light, it was impossible to see clearly but the light switch was out of reach. 

She thought she saw a glint, right there on the edge…but as she reached for it, the sheet pulled, and it fell. She watched it catch the last dying rays of light as it tumbled in slow motion, and even as she watched, it bounced twice and slipped under the nightstand.

No. Fucking. Way.

Her breath froze. Her hands shook. Her heartbeat tripled. 

Wasn’t this a Steven King novel?


You’ve pushed me back against the wall..Your honey eyes bore into mine before mine fall. As i would fall,  to my knees, if you released me just now.

“had enough, slut?” You ask. It’s been hard, hard to take this pain you give so freely. It’s also hard, so hard, not to take it.

my eyes are locked on the floor between your feet;  i know you feel the flutter of my pulse, there in my throat, trapped under your hand.

i work at being obedient, work at being the slut you need. The slut you want.

The slut you demand me to be.

It feeds me.  i hate craving it, hate knowing that giving you every bit means that it’s going to hurt more, that i’m letting myself fall down into this dark hole again.

Yet …it feeds me. This dark dreaming desire, this pain pursuing slut…she who lives inside of me, kneeling in spirit, begging for more. More of your attention, because it’s never enough, never enough. Begging for more of your pain. She is calling to Your beast, Master, and He hears.

“no Master,” my voice shivers out, soft, yet firm.

i know that, at the end, Your hand will be there, to lift me from the well  i’ve willingly fallen into,.

Your hand that will soothe  the sore, throbbing bits of me. 

And, it will be Your hand that i will place mine into, Your hand that will lead me back to that hole, when i say again,

“more, please, Master.”


She was so excited. Her friends from college were all coming to visit. Marty, Andy, Sam and she had been the misfits, not really fitting in anywhere. They’d shared an apartment off-campus, and were dubbed The Four Nerds, by the leading sorority sluts.

Now TFN would be reuniting. It had been crazy trying to get everyone together, Marty in LA, Andy in Houston, Sam in New York, and herself still in Boston. She loved ‘Beantown’. All of them had gone on to be successful, and over the last 8 years had met in pairs but never all at once, until now.

They were calling it the  TFN 30th. They were all turning 30 this year, and what better way to celebrate such a milestone year than to finally, finally be together? She’d seen Sam a few times over the years, being so close to New York, but Marty and Andy just the once each. She’d been to LA for a company event, and Marty had taken her out to lunch. Just a brief stopover in both of their hectic schedules. Andy and she had spent almost 3 days together, as they were both on vacation.

She was almost bouncing with anticipation, looking once more at the updated ticker at Logan. Plane on time!  The three had chosen to meet in New York, and all fly that last hour together, and she would meet them here, and take them to her home in the ‘burbs.  They would have a full week together, just like old times!


They were loud, happy, and definitely not nerds any longer, causing enough commotion in the receiving lounge to be cast a series of envious looks. The tall girl with the long flowing hair, hugging and kissing three beautiful men. All three loomed over her, all three very different in features. Tall and blonde, tall and brunette,  tall and bald.


When they arrived at Amelia’s home, she was beaming, happy to have her friends with her once more. The week stretched ahead, full of promise. She unlocked the door and let them in.

In the foyer, she was once again surrounded by her buds. Kissed by Sam, she was somewhat surprised to find his tongue in her mouth, but she accepted it. She could feel Marty and Andy behind her, arms around her. Then she felt hands exploring her tits. She tried to pull her mouth from Sam’s but his hand came to fist in her hair, holding her head, locking his mouth to hers. She felt her blouse being unbuttoned,and pulled from her slacks, then her bra unfastened, and a low happy chuckle from Marty.

“Oh man, I’ve wanted to grab these babies for fucking ever!” And he put word to deed, his large hand cupping her left tit, and mauling it. He pulled on it, squashed it flat, slapped at it,and pulled her nipple. She was moaning, twisting, trying to break away from the mouth on hers, the hands holding her. They were too big, too strong. She whimpered, she moaned, but she was unable to break away.

“Yeah, me too. She was always kinda stacked back in the day, but now?” He made a show of fanning his face, before grabbing her right tit, and pinching her puckering nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“She’s fucking hot now, aren’t you, Amelia?” The only reply she could make was a mumbling moan as Sam continued to fuck into her mouth with his tongue. At long last he pulled away, though his hand remained fisted deeply into her hair. His light blue eyes blazed into her own soft hazel ones.

“This is how it goes this week, Amelia. You have just become our slut. We’ve talked about it for years. Years.” He paused to emphasise his point.

“Even back in college, when you’d come out of your room in those fucking babydolls, and we’d get flashed by your fucking tits, your sexy ass? All of us would have hard-ons, and we figured you for a fucking tease. Then we discovered you were fucking oblivious. Never had sex, never a boyfriend..while we know things have changed in that department for you, now you get to live the week out the way we always wanted it to be.”

She was openmouthed, then,  an upswelling of fear/lust/anger surged through her. She tried to swing at the smug face in front of her, but her  hand was caught.

“Look, bitch, we know you’ve thought about each of us this way, you’ve told us so. And you told Andy that you’d taken to surfing porn, daydreaming about being a “bond-age” girl, when he took you to see the new Bond film last year.”

She flushed.

“So, don’t go being all high mighty sorority gal on us after all this fucking time. You want this. You want this. Just to be clear, cunt, this isn’t a rape scenario.”

“You say no, and this ends right here, right now. We go off, and we’re done. For fucking ever.” He paused, looked at her. Her tits were still being mauled, and she was not fighting. The flush in her cheeks ran down to her tits, and it was not embarrassment. He pushed her further.

“Look at you, slut. I’ll bet if I slipped my hand inside those slacks, your cunt would drip onto it. I’m right, aren’t I, you little slut?”

She whimpered. He was right. She had thought of hitting on each of them, fucking them being used by them. All the times she had waltzed through the apartment, hoping one of them would jump her, fuck her. How she’d fantasized about being used by all of them, all of them simultaneously. Maybe them jerking off on her. Or filling her airtight. She was a fucking slut. She was wet. And she could not say no.


It was a faint whisper of sound, but they heard it. Feral smiles broke out, and she was pulled by her tits into her living room.

oh gawd.

well? more? do let me know…~n~

Your assistance please…

Hi all! nilla is trying to learn a new thing…how to put a link into a story to direct you to part 1 or two …whatever…anyway, if you’re reading this, will you help me out and try this link here?

If this works, it should take you to the updated version of Distant Lovers, which got a little cleaning up this morning.

Please let me know if this worked! I very much appreciate it!  ~nilla~

FFF The Princess 188 words

Her father had decided.

She was to be the chosen, the virgin sacrifice. Although he loved his daughter, the needs of his people must come first. Firstborn, beautiful, and virginal, she would be carried to the open mouth of Mokiunnu, the restive volcano that thrummed softly under the feet of the villagers.

There, she would be offered to him, to cleave to him, to be consumed by him. If he accepted her, the tremors would cease, her virginal status would soothe him, and he would sleep quietly in her arms.

~~~             ~~~                ~~~

She slipped into the baths silently.  Her heart was breaking into small fragments, as she beheld her Mistress  laying beside the steaming mineral pool.

Softly she slipped up to curl between Marii’s thighs, her tongue worshipping at the altar she loved beyond all others.

Looking up as her Mistress laid her hand upon her, she met those lust-darkened  eyes, as her own filled with tears.

“Mistress, tonight when you are offered to Mokiunnu, i will go with you,”  she said, her voice a soft, grief-stricken whisper of sound,  “…as Your loyal handmaiden.”

Together, they wept.

Distant Lovers

She kept her secret life just that. A secret.

Her husband did his thing at night, she did hers. They were professional people, and cared for each other, but after 10 years, there was…. a lack of the spontaneity and the sexual explorations of their younger days.

She’d discovered the D/s world, the deep richness of it, quite by accident.

In the search engine, distracted and rushed, she’d typed in “boobs” not books.  She was taken aback by the huge variety of boobs. There were hot young boobs, Asian boobs, obviously immensely fake boobs, professional boobs, and amateur boobs.

Well. And here she was, happy owner of a nice pair herself, looking at other women. How…titalating, she thought with some amusement.

There was a link on one of the pages. It was …naughty. She got up and drew the curtains shut. Clicked.

From there she was hooked. She explored through the thin outer veneer of  bondage, of girls put in obscenely difficult positions and fucked. Oh how they cried out to their masters. In pain, yes but on some faces, a radiance. Then came the blogs.

Real people. Men who were Doms, men who were subs. Women who were subs. Women who were the Boss. Some lived with their Doms, some were long distance. So many faces, so many differences…sbut all so achingly  real.

She began to see herself in these places. Tied to a bed, a chair, the newell post. Whipped, or spanked, fucked in the ass, the mouth, her cunt. Because she couldn’t say no, not as an owned slave. She fantasized, she followed, she lusted.

Her articulate profile on the D/s site led to many invitations. Some were obviously dogs. Guys and gals out for a quick fuck, thank you very much. She wanted more. Ideally she wanted to be kept, owned, subject to the orders of an owner. It was getting to that place that was proving difficult.

 She still loved her husband. Bob was a good man. She sighed just thinking that. A good man. She lusted for more. A fierce man, a man who knew what he wanted and went after it. Bob did that with his career, but not with her. They were equals. She loved him, but hated that she could not seem to talk to him about this. She was afraid of showing him the dark fantasies that lived inside of her.

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

He found her on the list. Of all the ‘hits’ to her profile, his was the one that resonated. He posted that he lived in the metro area not too far from where she lived in the ‘burbs. It took time to get to know each other, from texts and emails. Phoning was problematical for them both, but she felt he was beginning to learn her, and her, him. He set her tasks to perform, pictures to take, and she complied. As she fell deeper into her submission, she began also, to fall in love.

Always he challenged her to talk to her husband about this, not making it an order, although he was always hinting that he would, someday force this issue with her.

“no, no…” she would protest through rapid-fire texts…”You don’t understand my husband. This would hurt him. I …i still love him…and don’t want to hurt him this way…”

and another week would roll by.


They’d been a couple for 7 months when he set her the hard task at last. He asked her one last time.

“Have you tried talking to your husband about this? Your submissiveness?”

“no,” she replied,   “i told you, Master.  He just wouldn’t get it.”

“We have talked of this before, but let me ask you…have you really ever thought about trying?  As a submissive woman, i wonder that you haven’t sent him some kind of signal over these many months we’ve been talking, slut.”

“well, i wore a very sexy nightie….” she began texting, when his incoming sent her text to draft.

“and sub… sexy lingerie does not a submissive make. This you should know already. . .it is not how you clothe your body, slut.  It is how you open your mind.”

It amazed her how often he read her so well!

He paused in his texting, and she wondered just what was coming next. He was insightful, but devious as well.

“I tell you what, slut. I will be sending you a package. A gift. When it arrives, I want you to text me. I’ll tell you what to do then.”

“Yes, Master,”  she responded. She was intensely curious, but knew better than to ask.

The next day there was a package wrapped in brown paper on her front porch.  She took it inside, hands shaking. He’d never sent her anything before. She unwrapped the box, and coiled inside, was a whip.  She took it out, held it in her hands. She smelled the pungent scent of leather, held the braided end in her hand.  It wasn’t terribly long, but oh my! The thought of what this might mean was sending shivers up her spine, and down to flood her pussy. He was coming here. He had to be.

She grabbed her phone and sent the text. “It’s here, Master. It’s…beautiful and frightening.”

His text zipped back. “Good, slut. Before your husband comes home for the night, I want you to prepare your body as you would for Me.   Shave and clean yourself, then..”

His second text took a bit longer to arrive, and she was aware of every cell of her body coming vibrantly to life as she waited, expectant and nearly breathless.

“When he comes home tonight, I want you to be sitting on your knees in your bedroom, with the whip around your throat, and the handle held gently in your teeth. Your hands, palms up on your thighs, and your body waiting  for him.”

She gulped, then texted back with shaking hands..  “He might throw me out..”

“Doubt that…he is a man, is he not?”

“yes, but Master…”


Oh  shit!!!”, she thought, she’d pissed him off. 

“Sorry, Master, of course, Master…forgive me? Please Master?”

There was no reply. She went to prepare herself as he asked,  her heart heavy. If there was one thing she had come to loathe, it was these times when he held himself apart, kept Himself away from her. It was an extremely effective punishment.

He would be here soon. She sat, the end of the whip around her neck as her Master had requested.  How she wished that it was Him that she was waiting here for. She had to admit though, her pussy was getting quite wet, anticipating and dreading what would happen when her husband walked into their bedroom.

His the sound of the screen door slamming shut came to her through the open window of the bedroom. The sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs came soon after. Her heart was beating hard, her pussy was pulsing.

She watched as the knob turned slowly. Watched as her husbands’  shoes came into the room and walked to where she was sitting as her Master had requested of her.

“Hello slut,” he said, as he closed the door behind him.


she keened a high thin sound, her teeth gritted.

her body was arched, tight.


teeth clenched, she looked like she was in agony.     an agony of ecstasy.

He took her there. slipping in and out of her body, her liquid  heat wrapping around him like tendrils of steam from a hot cup of coffee.

she was more stimulating.

He drove her up, fingers dancing over flesh.    first pinching, now smoothing. skin bubbled with gooseflesh, welted with passions fire.

He absorbed her.

her panting cries, her groaning to stop…not stop…stop…

her  hitching breath.

He relished that pulse beating rapidly in the hollow of her throat. He pushed her, pushed her.

pushed into her,  pulled away.

a slap, a sigh.

a pinch, a moan.

every action balanced

on the lust scale.

He would weight that scale again, just to watch her tip over.





Table for Two

He led me downstairs to the dungeon, his hand wrapped tightly in my hair. He was smiling, always a dangerous sign.

Why that makes my pussy leak, i will never know.

There in the center of the room, gleaming in the dim light, was a table. The legs thick and sturdy, but the top, covered with what looked like metal.

“I got this from Pamela.” I nod. “She thought I’d love this table.” Pam was a real estate broker, and a fellow kinkster, one He’d played with at some of our group  parties.

“She was selling a house that used to be a veterinarian’ s office. The top is heavy-duty aluminum. It’s going to be fucking cold on your tits. The table is sturdy, slut, very, very sturdy. ”

I swallow hard, not even imagining what he is fantasizing about. My tits will indeed freeze on that cold metal. It’s not like the dungeon is heated to begin with. He likes it cold. And somehow i never notice it once he gets going.

He pushes me down across the short end of the rectangular surface. Fuck! My nipples harden instantly, and i shiver. He laughs.

“Told you. ” He pulls me up, rubs his hot hand over my tit. “Mmmm, nice and chilly, slut.” He pulls on my nipple, none to gently on my poor frozen nubb.

“Owwwww” i moan out, as he decides to move me to the long end of the table…by my nipple.

He fiddles with my position for a few minutes. I’m face down, arms over my head. My  hair has flopped over my face but i don’t dare try to move it. Besides, he likes surprising me.

I hear a rip. What the fuck?

“Curl your fingers over the edge of the table like you’re holding on for dear life, slut. Because believe me, you will be.”

Mindfuck or his Master plan? I wonder. I feel something cool cross over my hand. Another rip, and something over in the other direction. One more rip, and it must be fucking duct tape he’s now applying over my wrist. He does the same with my other hand. I look through tendrils of hair, and see two big “X” s across the back of each hand, and the last piece of tape securing my wrists. No fucking way out.

My teeth are chattering a bit,although the table has warmed under my tits and belly.  I can’t hear him but i sense him behind me. I feel something hot dripping…OW FUCK! i yell.

He’s dripping candle wax across my asscheeks.

“Just warming that ass up,” he says with that diabolical laugh of his. “Just trying to help.”

Help. Yeah. As fucking if.

Still the burning heat and the tightening of my flesh as the wax slides and hardens is an instant turn on. I feel moisture on my inner thigh. I shake my  head even as i yelp as the next stream of wax hits tender flesh. I’m such a slut.

He pushes his groin into my ass. He’s absorbing the warmth of my ass, the wax. He groans at the sensation, and his hands glide up my sides, slipping under me to find and torment my  nipples. They are so cold, so hard, so yearning for this torture. I’m pushing back into him, needing him to fuck me, my tits throbbing in rhythm to my hot-waxed cheeks, as he humps at my ass.

He pushes off me.

“Okay, enough of that,” he says in that matter of fact voice. His cock is   half hard, i felt its thickness stirring against me through the waxy build up on my butt.

Only half hard.

Why do i know he’s really, really going to enjoy taking that wax off to get access to my holes?

“Clean up” he chants, “Clean up, every Dom, everywhere, Clean up Clean up, time to see what’s under there…”

And he laughs. Even as he brings down the first slash of the crop.

Fucking comedian.


She slipped into the back of the limo, her calf-length skirt catching in the soft breeze of the evening. The driver offered to put her valise into the trunk, but she demurred, preferring to hold it, and its precious contents, in her lap.

She thought He would be pleased with her appearance. She knew this dress was one of his favorites, the clingy fabric hugging and caressing her curves much as His own hands did.  It was backless, but hard to tell, really, because the long  sweep of hair that kissed the top of her hips hid much. He loved to run his hands through her tresses, pulling them in passion, or twining a curl up around his finger, demanding her mouth. Afterwards, spent for the nonce, but only  partially sated, he would stroke the silkiness, call her “Rapunzel”, and tickle her with the ends.

She thought about what lay hidden inside the innocuous bag in her lap, as the car snaked its way through the evening city traffic, and began the long trek out-of-town.

She thought of the drivers shock, should he open this bag, and see the long sinuous length of Master’s favorite toy, the singletail. It’s braided  handle, made of tough hide,  had been softened over the years by much use. He was as meticulous in his care of all his belongings, and it showed.  She glowed under his care, and this whip had that soft sheen of well-maintained leather. It still had much use left in it. Under the single tail, which she loved and loathed with equal measure, was his telescoping metal wand.

This was something he’d gotten in his professorial days, and decided that it would be of far more benefit in her bedroom than in his classroom. It packed a stingy slap, and her tits tingled just thinking of it. Her nipples rose from soft quiescence to full hardness, peaking out the front of her dress, and drawing a brief glance from the driver. Who wouldn’t notice tits like that,  he wondered silently.

Packed along the side of the valise was his flogger. He used this when he was feeling particularly sadistic. It never failed to leave a mottled bruising on her ass, it’s many-fingered leather laces slapping down upon her in his fevered excess. It had been awhile since he’d used it, and that was just fine with her.

Also in the bottom, was a variety of nipple clamps, from the hated clovers, to the softer  vibe-clamps. Chains of different weights and thicknesses, and weights clinked softly through the leather bag as she shifted her legs. Or maybe she just imagined it.

She thought about their last date, when he’d beaten her ass to a cherry-red glow, then fucked her like a dog. Hands and knees digging into the carpeting in her bedroom,  he had humped her across it, leaving them both collapsed in a pile of tangled limbs when he was done. He’d fingered her to several more orgasms as they lay there, laughing at her cries of dismay. She was always so sensitive after coming, and he was always willing to push her past, and through, always giving her more than she thought she could take. And it was always just right.

She looked out the window as the limo slowed, then turned into their destination. A long sweep of green lawn, deeply emerald in the long shafts  of waning  light, tall trees standing sentinel along the stone wall.  As the long dark car drew to a stop, she heard the calls of birds, calling goodnight through the gloaming. The driver opened her door, helped her out.

She was stiff from sitting so long.  Slowly she made her way to where his assistant waited for her. He took her elbow, guiding her.

“This way, ma’am,” he said softly. They walked a bit, then he released her, and swept aside a  small curtain. She crossed to it, and lay the valise beside his urn.  A single tear trekked down her cheek, and dropped to land on the top of his final resting place.

“Farewell Master,” she whispered,  then turning, she made her way back to the limousine for the long drive back to the city.

this story has been begging to be written for a very very long time. no, my Sir is fine, fine. i read a piece over a year ago that spoke to this nilla heart, and i wanted a companion piece, from the subbie perspective.  ~n~


i didn’t know

that the weight of your displeasure

would hurt so much.

You didn’t know

that the weight of your anger

would break me.

A long, jagged crack

across my heart.

i spent the night

holding it closed

scooping the soft parts up, and stuffing them back in

before they could all leak out

and leave me