On My Blogiversary


Well, whodathunkit?

A year ago today, with shaking hands, i created this blog. I think i went a week before someone finally read a word i wrote!

Learning how to navigate the various implements on the blog, remembering my blogname and password, and the total clandestine nastiness made that first month pretty much a blur.

It’s funny, now, to recall how much my hands shook when i finally decided, “fuck it! i’m starting a blog of my own!” 

It was as much in anger at my wife, as in need to release some of the ….unspoken words that boiled inside of me.  To write the fantasies that were dancing around my head.

To help me figure out what the fuck i was.

To help me figure out that i was okay this way. A bit of a freak, but okay, nonetheless.

Now here i am. One year later, more confident. More settled. Some of the secret is out. I’m settling into more contentment in my vanilla life.

And found a Dom. Who nurtured me, began to show me what it means to be a slut. A Dom to beat the fuck out of my ass before he fucks that ass for however long He wants to. A Dom to share day to day joys and sorrows with. A Dom who is a pretty fucking cool guy.

And was found by another Dom, and his sub, and pulled into an interesting triad of control, and balance and angst, all the while being trained His Way,  to become a better woman, a better submissive. He’s peeled back layers of civility, and found the cunt beneath. He’s a sadistic gentleman, with a laugh that can light up my smile for hours, and a darkness that is beautifully frightening to behold. I’m not alone in that dark place anymore. 

And found friends. I could name you, but if i leave one out i’d feel terrible. All you have to do is look at my blogroll over there >>>…some verrah kewl peeps are over there…and some are just delightful people who i’m honored to have become friends with.

All because of words sent out into the ether.

So to you, my pervy reader, thank you. Thank you for liking what i do, for suggestions you’ve made, for showing up here daily, or weekly, or when you remember to. For being interested. For getting turned on. For commenting.

All because of words sent out into the ether.

ain’t that a kick in the ass?!

To add insult to injury…

So today was a stressfilled day.

Mostly self inflicted, but still.

I sat at my trusty computer to write. Writing soothes me, as you all know by now.

It was the first part (naturally) of a delightful story i’d gotten from striving for peace, and it worked up beautifully, fast, full, descriptive.

I spell checked it, and then, my computer ate it for lunch.

It’s gone. Not in drafts (tho a version is supposed to be autosaved as  i type). Not in my posts file.

Just gone.

Out into the fucking ether.

That is the mildest of explitives. Trust me i was full-on pissed off.

So, later, gators. I’ll have to do a full rewrite. It will be good. It will be fine.

but it sure was a lovely first go.


Lime-green Posty Note

She walked into her house, slowly, dreading it. Her work day had drained her. She was empty, tired, a bit defeated. Now she had to face an empty house.

He was gone.

She dropped her keys on the hall table, her purse sliding unnoticed to the floor as it slid down her wrist.  A sigh escaped as she looked towards the family room, then resolutely away. No. Not going to do that.

She went into the kitchen. A lime-green postynote was on the handle of the fridge. She blinked. He’d left her orders? Orders were always on lime-green postynotes.

She crossed quickly to the fridge, read the note, then lifted it to her nose. Yes, she could smell Him on it. His cologne was woodsy, masculine. She wondered when the hell he’d done this…he’d been gone when she got up and went to work.  She shook her head, then opened the fridge. Gezuz!  The dildo was new, one she’d never seen before. It was beautifully designed, the colors in the glass exploding outwards like a living rainbow.  Her hand curved around the center of  it, as the chill filled her hand. She wondered how it would feel, that cold piece of glass sliding up inside her warming pussy hole.

But that wasn’t what the note had instructed her to do.

She placed the rounded end of the dildo in  her mouth, sucking inward, as if it where His cock she was worshipping. The cool air from the still open fridge door pooled around her ankles, coiled up around her calves.  She watched the second-hand of the clock sweep towards 30 seconds. With a pop, she pulled it from her mouth.


The burn hit her a moment later.  He’d coated the tip with something fuckkkking hooootttt.

That explained the small cup of milk He had left for her, and ordered her to drink when her 30 seconds of suck time was up.

She gulped it down, though He’d put a stingy amount of milk into the cup. Nonetheless, it was enough to take the immediate sting away.  It left her mouth tingley, warm.  She closed the fridge door, and crossed to the dishwasher, and opened it. She pulled out the top tray and there, where she was going to place her cup, was another lime-green posty.

She smiled. That fucker.

She made her way into the bathroom. Lifting her shirt, she removed her bra, hung it on the curtain rod. Her neighbor often teased her about this habit. One he enjoyed. One her Master enjoyed fostering. He fed as much from their neighbors voyeuristic tendencies as from her need to be humbled.  A win-win for Him.

She pinched her nipples hard, as hard as He would have, if  He’d been there to do it. She opened the medicine cabinet, and there was the jar of icyheat. With a lime-green posty note.

Oh. Double Fuck.


With her nipples burning, her clit throbbing from the application of  the icyheat goop, she made her way upstairs to strip out of her work clothing. Her nipples rubbed against the cotton shirt, further irritating and arousing them.  Her clit rubbed between her legs, throbbing when the “hot” cycle of the gel flashed fire across the sensitive bit of her sex.

Down came her skirt, off came  her shirt. She scooped them up with one hand, the other holding all the lime-green posty’s she’d collected, and the glass dildo from the fridge.

She opened the hamper to put her clothing into.  This being the day before  she did laundry, the hamper was full, nearly to the top. And right there, on the top of the laundry pile was yet another lime-green posty note.

In the hamper?

She reached into the pocket of His jeans, and found the nipple clamps. That fucker!  She fastened them onto her swollen nipples, and gently eased the third clamp over her sensitized clit. The shiver ran through her, making her  hot, then cold. Then very, very hot. She felt the juice begin to flow from her cunt.

Back downstairs to retrieved her phone. She snapped a picture of  herself, glass dildo between her lips, clamps in place, and sent it to him. Then onto the couch, the last part of the instruction from the hamper note.

She propped up the pillows, and there, on the very bottom one, was a lime-green posty note.  She blinked. Reread it. Put her hand in her lap. Shook her head. NO. FUCKING. WAY.

Her phone rang.

She rose to answer it.

“Now that you’re up off the couch, do what I said.” Click.

How the FUCK does He know? she mused. She was trembling. She went back into the kitchen, then took a deep breath. Her hand went to the kitchen door.  A short, open breezeway led out to the driveway where her car was parked. She looked towards next door. She looked down the street. Seeing no one, she made a dash for it, and just about leapt into the backseat of her car.

She began to fuck  herself. Her eyes drifted shut. NO. wait. He wanted her head on the driver’s side of the car, her pussy pointed towards Mark’s house. Thank goodness Mark was at work still! His truck wasn’t in the yard, so she had a bit of time yet.

Quickly she shifted her position, placed exactly as He had ordered. Once more she began slowly sliding the cool glass cock in and out of her wet cunt. She rolled her head back, arching up onto the hard, cool cock. Her eyes opened and she saw it. Another lime-green posty note. She reached up and pulled it from the ceiling of her car. Had this been here all day? How could she not notice that?  She read the note.


She looked out the window between her splayed legs. Standing beyond the window was her Master.  With neighbor Mark. They both had lime-green posty notes on their chests.  She closed her legs, tried to cover  her tits. They were laughing as they opened the back passenger door, handing her their notes. A fist in her hair helped pull her from the car, and the trio slipped back into the kitchen.

It was time to follow her next order. Unnoticed, the lime-green posty from Marks shirt  had fallen onto the kitchen floor.  In His bold handwriting, it read”

                                                        “Fuck This.”

The Perfect Submissive


      He stepped back, making a soft ‘hmmm’ noise. He moved around her, stopping to run a finger down a long length of hair, pinch a soft curve there. Mostly, though, looking.


She stood, hands cuffed behind her back. He’d used the heavy cuffs, and tightly. They cut hard into her soft skin. They weighed her down, reminded her she was owned, kept.

He pushed his thumbnail into the palm of her hand, hard. Her fingers curved around it. Accepting the gift of his pain. Craving it.

She heard the jingle as his hand fished in his pocket. She took a breath, knowing what was coming. And yet, not knowing the full extent of His cruelty today.

She stared straight ahead, trying to be perfectly still. When he was posing his doll, He expected perfection. Perfect lines, perfect expression. Then He would torment her, see how far He could go this time before the calm demeanor melted from her face with her tears.

He affixed the clamp to the softly curved outside of her breast, not the nipple as she had expected. The pinch was hard, deep and immediately brought her a burn of pain, mirrored in the sudden burn in her cunt.

He tilted His head, looking at her. He smiled. Inside, that smile made her quiver, a confused melange of fear, need, and lust. Outside, she maintained the serene expression He sought to pull away.

He looped the chain under her tit, under its mate, and clamped into the outer side of her left breast. His hand dipped into his pocket again. She saw it in her peripheral vision. She knew He wanted her to see. Her cunt began to leak.

A second set of chained clamps appeared. He affixed the heads between the first clamp and her nipple, mirroring the first set of clamps, of chain. A burning ember of pain licked up the sides of her tits.

He stepped back, then strolled around her again. Returning to the front of her,  he flicked the two hanging chains. She gritted her back teeth as the heavy swinging links pulled at her breast. He looped a finger in the lower chain and pulled forward. Looped his other finger around the higher chain and pulled up. Head cocked, a polite smile in place, they exchanged no words, but she knew He was reading her like a novel.  His smile was enigmatic.

Fuck. She had no idea what was coming next. She knew that it wasn’t going to be good. The sadist was looking at her, examining the chinks in her peaceful submission. He didn’t crave that peace. He craved dissonance, reluctance, fear, pain.

He pulled another set of clamps from his pocket.  She noted that the front of His pants were beginning to tent. She wanted to smile, but she refused to break position. She was, however, very gratified that He was hardening.  There was a limit to how far He would go if He wanted to fuck her.

She hoped.

He pinned the small clamp heads on her nipple. It was erect, hard, and the little rubberized heads grabbed with an evil bite. He tugged. A small moan slipped from her. His mouth quirked.  She worked to hold onto her control, to measure her breathing in short little breaths.

He pulled the chain up and over her shoulder, around her neck and down the other side. The clamp hung several inches short of her nipple, laying like a threat, a promise, a shining portent of impending pain. 

His hand cupped up and under her tit, fingers brushing the clamps already in place.  Her eyes slid closed. She swallowed hard. Gods, gods. He was breaking through.

His fingers slid up to grasp her nipple, and lifted.  The shiver raced through her, followed by a line of goosebumps. Her tit was pulled higher, until her tender nipple was high enough.

The clamp bit like teeth. It bit like an anchor lodged deeply into her soul. It was mean, hard. He stepped back.  Watched the struggle. The part He loved best. The pain was good, but her struggle with it was the best part. The icing on the cake. He noted the slick line of her juice that ran from cunt to her knee, a long, revealing trail.  He watched her struggle to breathe without crying out. And waited.

He loved the gleam of the silver chains, the delicate, smiling curve of them as they hung below her tits. He adored the way the third chain bit into the skin of her neck as it passed over and around it. The lift of her tits, the distortion of flesh.

And waited.

The silver gleam of the first tear as it slipped over the curve of her cheek,  and held  for a glistening moment on her chin, captivated Him. He watched as it gathered, formed, and dropped. Watched the small splash as it landed on her upturned tit.

He leaned forward and took it into His mouth, His tongue scooping it from her body.

How He loved the taste of submission.

~for sin and her Master~

When you…

When you walk into the hotel lobby I wonder what they will see?

She entered through the glinting revolving door, the gentle fwump fwump as it passed over the weather-stripping echoing the beat of her heart.  Her hair was gently gathered at the crown into a pearl clip, the back falling loosely over her shoulders, cascading down her back. Her dress was a saucy red, knee-length. The lacy tops of her thigh high’s were revealed with every long stride she took, through the daring slit on the side which reached nearly to her hip.  She caught more than one admiring glance as she crossed the marbled foyer and headed for the front desk.

When you ask for the key I have left for you, I wonder if they will know what you are?

She took the keycard, offering a brilliant smile to the young desk clerk. He was dazzled. Whether it was the smile, or the well displayed cleavage that rendered him nearly speechless was hard to say. His Adams apple bobbled with every  nervous swallow.

When you enter the elevator, think of My shaft, entering you.

Anticipation boiled in her blood. The doors closed with a whisper of sound. She could only hear the rush of blood in her ears, feel the pounding of her own heart, feel the throbbing deep in her pussy. She allowed herself a moment to squirm, clenching her thighs hard and giving a small fuck-motion of her hips. It did nothing to alleviate her need.

When  you rise up, floor after floor, think of my cock, rising up into your mouth as you take me deep into your throat.

When the doors opened, three floors below her destination, she stifled a moan of disappointment. The elderly couple took their time entering,  and he made certain his wife was holding the rail securely, before releasing the doors. He apologized for the delay; she demurred. Inside, her pussy was a seething cauldron. The wife looked at her, smiling knowingly. The scent of lust was in the air.

When you step out of the elevator, I will be waiting for you, just on the other side of the door to our room. I wonder if you know exactly what I will do to you?

Just down the hall, turn the corner. The room was there, down on the right. Her steps slowed. The anticipation warred with nerves.  A new Dom lay on the other side of that door. Unknown delights of pain and pleasure awaited. She had only to knock.

When you knock on the door, be certain. Once you enter, there is no going back to who you were before.

Her hand rose to knock, to open the future.

FFF 8/27/10 So Many Words…So Little Time.

Yay!  FFF was on! ! How exciting! She loved the picture, had a story idea, though his word count challenged her. She stayed up late, looking for the right words. She  read blogs. Still, she could not find the right words!  It wasn’t like she had 127 days left to write this thing!  Time was of the essence!

AHA! Sir’s library! Surely she’d find the right words there!  She was so absorbed in her task that she never heard Him enter. Grabbing  her hair, He spun her round ’til her feet were up and  her head was down, as he fed her his cock . When he was sated, he left her there, woozy, dripping.

Sprawled downside-up in the chair, suddenly she  knew just the right words for  her story.

(127 words, exactly! GREAT FFF Challenge, Advizor!)

My eX is a Bitch…

dark dark dark….~nilla~


“Go ahead and slide that O gag into her pie hole..”

His voice came to her from close, very close.  Roger, that fucking ass.  Whatthefuck was HE doing here? She  fought through the fog in her brain.

What the hell was going on?

She tried to assemble her thoughts. She remembered the bar. Kick-ass band, the throbbing of the backbeat matched by the throbbing of the lights. The cute guy chatting her up at the bar, making her pussy throb to that same pulsebeat.

What was his name?

Did she even get his name?

And why the holy fuck was Roger here?

A hand grasped her chin, and though she tried to fight it, an O gag was pushed deep into her mouth, slipped behind her teeth, and buckled behind her head.

She tried to reach up, wanting to just yank the fucking thing off. Her hands would not move. She tried again. She heard a metallic chink.

“The bitch just found out about the spreader bar, guys!” An assortment of hoots, and nasty laughter came from around the room.

Where the fuck was she?

She tried moving her feet. Like her arms, they were restrained, open and secured. She felt the first bump of panic.

She felt something warm bump along her pussy.


Why did she feel something on her pussy? Holy FUCK!! She was naked, restrained, gagged, and there was a room full of guys here? She shook her head. Tried to see. It was dark.

“You can’t see anything because you’re blindfolded, bitch.” The pushing at her pussy was becoming insistent.

“Time to finally make you live up to your potential, you fucking bitch. Get it?  A bitch for fucking. You have all these holes. We have all these cocks.”

She heard the snarl in Rogers voice. God. God. Okay, so she shouldn’t have texted him that she was fucking sick and tired of him and his shit. 

And maybe she should not have cut the sleeves off  his Klein shirts before she sent them back to him.  All of them. Yes, she could see now that it was a very bitchy thing to do. Yet, how could she apologize with this fucking gag in her mouth.  She tried.

Right up until the first cock slid in. Then she just concentrated on trying to breathe around it. Even as she dealt with that, she felt a cock stuff up into her cunt. She was full of cock. Gagged with it, fucked hard with it.

She didn’t want to get turned on by this abuse. She didn’t want to feel her pussy lubricating itself. She knew that happened in rape, but she felt the burn of her clit, the stiffness of her nipples. She was getting fucking turned on.

By Roger the fucking bastard and his band of cronies. His drinking buddies, she guessed.

She choked as the cock in her mouth slid down her throat. She felt the pulsing head, knew he was going to shoot his sticky  cum into her mouth. She couldn’t even shake her head no, his hands were tangled deep in her hair, pulling her tight to his crotch. A stinky musky smelling crotch. She gagged, choked again.

She swallowed in self-defense. It was hard to swallow with her mouth pegged open, but it was that or drown. Down below, she felt Roger stiffen, grab her tits and drive in one last time. She knew that move.  He was going to cum.

“Bareback, bitch. No fucking rubber.  Gonna stuff a wad of seedlings up your cunt, make you remember me for a long fucking time.”

She shuddered. Noooooo….

“Boys, I see a couple of titties here that are getting no action. How about we  have a contest? Who wants to fuck her ass first? ”  She shuddered. No. Never that! Never never that. It was nasty, dirty, appallingly terrifying.

“Okay, you two get over here. One of each side. Okay, here’s how the contest works. You each get a nipple. You suck, bite, whatever, the entire time bachelor number two fucks this cunt. You torture those nips until he cums, and then we’ll judge who has bruised their nipple the best. The winner takes her ass. ”

She felt two warm bodies one on each side of her. Hands came up and grabbed her tits, and hot wet mouths descended upon her. She felt the first sharp bite of teeth on her left tit. This was going to be bad. This was going to be achingly bad. And fucking Roger had cum without helping her over the hum. She needed to  cum.

A new, larger cock replaced Roger’s. The head was bulbous and pushed up inside her with some force. She grunted as it shafted deeply inside of her. Then squealed as the work on her nipples picked up pace. GAWD! It fucking hurt…

And another cock slid over her tongue….


Name that Implement…


          He pushed me against the wall, hand pressed firmly between my shoulders. It was a hard push, and i fetched up, forehead smacking the plaster,  as he began roughly inspecting his slut.

He’d already checked my front, pulling my tits  from my black lace bra, hung out, exposed.  Ripe and ready to be pinched, squeezed, mashed. And indeed they were mashed– right up  against the fucking Wall. He’d checked out my pussy, rubbing his hand down to feel the freshly shaved triangle. Fingers searching for my clit, again. Sliding down my soaked slit, pushing roughly inside of me. He grunted, satisfied, then issues his next  command. His voice is firm, no-nonsense.


I struggle sometimes, there in the darkness.


What does that mean?  A simple word, really. One i use with great regularity. But just then, after cumming multiple times, after being roughly man-handled, rushing headlong into sub-space? I’m even incapable of speech.

His hand on my shoulder guides me, thrusts me hard against the cool white surface. My tits mash down against it, but i don’t really feel the cold. My shivers are reserved for what his  hands are doing. He steps away…i  hear the floor creak, then the absence of the feel of Him there.

I tense. Waiting.


His voice comes from the other side of me.  How’d he do that?!   I heard not a thing, not one sound. My silent, sneaky Dom. I relax. Ahhh.  He’s looking at me.

His hand pulls the lace dress up. Up. Up over my round bottom. It rests against my waist, stretchy black lace, bare white ass exposed. Briefly, my mind flicks to that line in  the new version of “California Girls”…”all that ass hangin’ out…” and i smile against the Wall. My mind works in crazy ways, and i know i will remember this part clearly.

I’m completely relaxed when the first blow falls.


i rise to my toes, a rather remarkable thing in 5 1/2 inch heels.

“What, you’re complaining already??”  His voice is incredulous, and faintly amused.

“nononononono..” i babble. Yes. I did.  Babble.

“hurts so good, so good thank you Sir!”

SMACK! SMACK SMACK!!  Sharp, hard reports from the vicinity of my ass.

“Hmmm, you redden up nicely, slut.”  His hand strokes my asscheek, a different warmth from what-the-fuck-ever he’s spanking me with.

“What is it?”  He says.

I’m off in subspace again, but the transmission yanks me back.

“mmhmmm? um…”

“c’mon slut, what is it???”  His tone is goading me.



“EEEK !!!!    UM…leatherbeltleatherbelt!” a gasp, then quietly, face against the wall, “leather belt, Sir.”

“Good girl. So smart! You’re absolutely right. Leather Belt.”

And i receive a few more hard smacks as my reward.

Then, nothing.

*insert sound of crickets, chirping*


I wonder if he’s laying there on the bed watching my ass turn red. I wonder if he’s laying on the bed watching television. The sound on the box is just loud enough to mask his approach. You’d think i’d learn that by now.


Like…fucking-A OUCH!!!   I’m en-pointe, a slutty ballerina.  A quick flurry of blows, the same fucking spot again and again and again and omfg. Again.

I’m taking whistling breaths from between my teeth. This fucker is a stingy slap of owie. It’s not that big but it fucking hurt!

“What is it, slut?”  He cooes in my ear. Yes, cooes. Soft, toying with me, teasing me, taunting me…a delicious, sumptuous tone.

“Silver cake thingy!” Yes! I knew i nailed that, even as his “very good, slut!” is accompanied by several more whacks of the silver cake server.

A shorter span of time, then i feel it. O. My. Fucking. Gawd. Dunno. Dunno. Dunno. And i know he’ll keep slapping my ass with it until i name the fucking thing. It was soooo owie. So So So owie.

“Wellllll ??” He drawls at me, in that infuriatingly calm voice.

“um”  slap slap slap (rise in pitch) “umumum”  slap slap      


“WOWOW–umum…um ”

Finally i’m almost crawling up the wall to get away from the fucking tool, and i’m yelping, and i burst out with


“oh, okay,”   He says. .. and puts the fucking thing away.

“By the way, nilla,” he says. He has a wonderful way of saying my name. I love it. Love it.

“yes Sir?”   i’m still rather breathless. Okay, i’m gasping like a fish out of water.  Not out of it enough to be spacey. No, i am fully in the moment, me and my aching ass.

“You’re right you know.”

“about….what? Sir?”

“Your ass does get very red and bruises easily.”

He runs his hand up and around my abused posterior. Gawd, so nice, so good. His finger pokes at several of the bruises, making me moan just a bit…

And slides up my slit, and right up into my asshole….

..to be continued…

Text, Task, Trouble!

It started innocently enough.

Seated at the restaurant, waiting for her client to show, she snapped a picture of a waiters delectable booty. Then sent it to her hubby.

His response was fast.

“Wonder if HE has to wear a cage today.”

She giggled, then smoothed it into a polite smile as  Mr. E arrived at her table. She rose, took his hand. He raised it to his lips. What a charmer!  The waiter passed them menu’s and her phone buzzed on the table.

She picked it up. There on the front of her phone was her husbands cock. Caged, of course, which is how she wanted it when she wasn’t there. Or wanted to flex her Domme muscle. She smiled.

“Something good, then?” The voice of Mr. E startled her, and she smiled weakly, slightly embarrassed.

“My husband, reminding me that I need to see  him later today at his office.”

“Ahh, well, can’t forget the hubby,  now, can we?” His laugh was gentle, suave. She wasn’t sure if he’d gotten a wee peek or not. And while a bit embarrassing, it was also a bit naughty, a bit stimulating. She felt her pussy moisten a bit. Her phone chimed again.

Her Dom. Oh my. She read the text twice before fully grasping it.

Ladies room, remove your panties, and take a pic of your pussy and send it. NOW.”

She looked from the text to Mr. E’s enquiring gaze.

“uh, Mr. E can you excuse me for just a minute? I really need to handle this. I’ll be right back. ”

He smiled at  her, gesturing her to go. He really was a thoughtful man. But now there was this task. Her Dom had been pretty demanding of late, and she loved it. Hated it. Loved it. She was confused. Yes. Confused. She hated loving it. He didn’t care, really if she did. He told her to work it out. And she was trying but still…strong, capable woman here!! Why the fuck did she need this …this…THIS so fucking much?

She walked quickly to the ladies room, and took the pic he wanted. Just for fun, she sent one to her hubby as well as a copy of the txt from the Dom. He really got off on this. That was different from so many marriages, she knew that, but for them…it worked. Their sex was hot. Hotter than hot, truth be told. 

She returned to the table.

“I’m all set,” she replied.


They finished their meal, and their business. The handshake at the end was one of mutual satisfaction. Their companies would do business together, to their mutual profit. She loved when things coalesced so neatly. This had been an amazing venture, and a big feather in her cap.

Promising to send him the details of their agreement, they parted.


Laying in bed that night, cuddling with her hubby, her phone chimed.

“Must be the D, ” he said, with a smile. “I do love when he gets you all hot and bothered, Mistress. Your cunt tastes of your lust…and it’s a win-win for me!”

She smiled, feeling indulgent. He’d been such a good slave. His attention to her during the day had been teasing, heated, perfection.

She needed his cock tonight.  But first, D time!

She took up the phone and purred into it…

“Hi Sir. I very much enjoyed Your task today.”

She heard the smile.

“And I very much enjoyed the picture of your pussy.  Almost as much as I enjoyed seeing your husbands cock during lunch.   Makes me very glad to have sealed the deal with you today. I’ve always wanted to Dom a couple. ”  came Mr. E.’s voice, through her phone… amused, and pleased. 

She stared at  her  phone. She hadn’t. Had she?

“Let’s make some time to meet.” His voice continued in her ear. “Sooner, rather than later, little switch.”  Unconditional. Demanding. Dommish.

She wondered where this would wind up.