#awake twitterotica 100 words

why can’t i sleep? tossing in memories of You. rolling in thoughts of your hands in my hair, on my nipples, kneading me, needing me, taking me.

why can’t i sleep? lost in the inbetween world that presages rest, You are there.

The ghost of you.

reaching out in memories of flesh buried in flesh. touching me with thoughts of lips, and teeth used in equal measure across my skin.

The ghost of you,

reaching in to take from me, even knowing that i yield all to You.

Why can’t i sleep? Coz You are not here.

And i am.

The Cure for Sub-Drop

For the better part of a year now, i have texted all in my little D/s family, happy little  morning greetings.

I am always especially ebullient on Wednesdays. Coz, yanno, it’s a day named for all us…the sexual “deviants”…”Hump Day.”

I always comment on that in my morning ‘Hallo’s”.

But, last Wednesday, not so much.

A wee bit of backstory…my vanilla life was not going well. EVERYONE had something mean/corrective/snarky to say to me. All Fucking Day. I alternated between anger and sad. I cried. I yelled a little bit. One sentence actually.

Don’t laugh now.


yeah. to my 6-year-old.

So, i was having a terrible day.  And went to bed feeling so fucking sorry for myself. And couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to masturbate. Didn’t want to do anything but cry. Not sob, just pity tears, you know the kind.

poor wittle gurl.

So, no happy  Hump Day greetings. Woke up as grumpy as i went to bed. What the FUCK is wrong with me.

Then i read Aisha’s post. Oh. OOOOOOOooooooohhhhh.


Sub. Drop.

Well, i ponder. How the fuck do i grab my happy and stuff it back? Coz, you gotta know, i was So. Fucking. High. after my Saturday with Sir. (and i have the bruises to prove it!!)

Aisha did it. She admitted it. The first step. Hi, my name is nilla and i’m having sub-drop.

Then she remembered. And fantasized. Hey! *i* can do that.

So, that is how i’m curing my sub-drop. Coz, you’re reading this a full week after i wrote it. Coz it’s hump day again. So i’ll share a little bit of our day, a little bit more of our fun. Coz i’m good like that (laughs)….well…i *am*!!

We’re on the bed. Gawd, is there any better feeling than that of the full weight of a man on top of you? Pushing you into the mattress, compelling utter submission to His wants because you are pinned in place. An erotic butterfly, pinned by a prick. (giggle)

His legs have pinned my arms, all i can move is my hands, which i wrap around His thighs.  i think i’m holding so tight because i’m afraid i’m going to float right through Him ….

my hair is pinned under His knees. All i can do is suck his cock. And moan. Because we’re in a ’69’ and He is eating my pussy.

Did i say eating? Oh. So. Much. MORE.

DEVOURING my pussy.

MUNCHING on my clit.

DRINKING my juices.

He mumbles between my legs, i feel his words on my cunt, through my body.

“You are such a slut! So fucking wet!!!!

Those are the last spoken words for like…hours. Days maybe. He consumes me,  while i’m moaning and sucking His cock. A few times i gag, but He keeps lapping. Until.

His hands move around me, cupping my ass, spreading my cheeks, all the while He is sucking my clit so hard. i’m squirming, lifting up into His mouth, convulsing again in a giant orgasm that leaves me breathless, His cock in my slack mouth. A long low moan of ecstasy escapes around it.  i am spent, drained.

He’s not done.

His nimble fingers slide into my ass. Two? Three? Unclear. The intrusion only serves to throw me over the cliff and spiral right out into the stratosphere. I’m cumming, cumming, cumming…every molecule attenuated to those fingers, now fucking in and out of my asshole at a steady pace.

Not too fast.

Not too slow.

And His tongue is doing devilish things in my pussy, His beard rubbed, very deliberately on my swollen, throbbing clit.

And i cum apart.

Bucking, writhing, moaning, i’m only conscious of one thought.

Do. Not. Bite. His. Cock.

(i didn’t)

i slide back into my body, and suck Him. Lave his cock with my tongue, and STILL He is fucking my asshole with his fingers, fucking my pussy with his mouth.

Dear Great Goddess….how can i take more.

How could i not?

It is what He wanted.

It is what He took of me. And took. And took. Times 10.

Finally He stiffens on my body. i am unaware that He is beginning to cum, i am that out of it. But my mouth had been busy on Him, and His hips ground down into my face, stopping my breath momentarily until i learned his rhythm.

He spurted down my throat, as he bit on my clit.

And came for Him again.

*****     *****

Days later, and i still remember the floating sensations, the total awareness of my pussy, the complete control he had over every part of me.

i texted him later. HOW did making me cum so much please him? How did HE get satisfied that way.

I felt…guilty, i guess.

He told me it’s what He wants, the Dominant Control of me.


i can live with that.

The Wait

just to clarify…this is not Molly!!  (tho i can really picture her in this role!)  ~n~

She paced restlessly around the room.



She stared down at the text message. All in caps, it read


Why did she have a Dom, anyway. Who cared what the fuck HE thought. It was HER body, HER pussy, HER needs.

He simply didn’t understand her. That was all.

She NEEDED a daily orgasm. Or two. Occasionally three. Okay, maybe more than occasionally, but certainly no more than four. Mostly.

She was needy, that was all.

He said she was greedy.

He said she needed ‘management’, whatever the fuck he meant by that.

He said she was undisciplined.

She wasn’t greedy. She liked what she liked was all.

She didn’t need some Domineering Man to tell her she could only pee between this time and that time, or shit on cue, anymore than she needed HIM to tell her when to cum.

Though she did enjoy His little Dom games. The spankings, the nipple torment. The multiple orgasms on HIS terms.

But denial had never come up before.

Not like this.

She paused, reread the text, then tossed the phone on the bed in her frustration. Geeze. She wasn’t 12.

“Orgasm management” she muttered along with various other unintelligible slurs regarding his heritage, the state of his parents marriage, and his mothers choice in footwear.

The phone on the bed chimed again.

“GREAT!” she exploded. “Now what. Time for subbie to take a wee-wee?”

She flopped onto the bed, and looked at the text.

“Stop Pouting.”

How he had gotten to know her so well in 10 weeks was beyond her. He’d told her he was going to occasionally tighten the reins, and apparently, this was that time.

Fucking Bastard.

She’d had that dream again. The one where that handsome older actor was sliding into her from behind, as his talented hands molded her tits, pinching her nipples…

‘ oh, oh yes, yes Sir…’

‘Don’t call me Sir, i work for a living you know…!”

and they had laughed and he’d fucked her silly.

She woke just before cumming, her pussy wet and pulsing softly, her clit swollen and insistent. Clit demanded attention.

Then the text had arrived.

She’d been steaming ever since and yet…the pulse of her pussy had only increased. Fucking Jerk!!

She rolled over onto her back, lifting her legs, heels near her ass, and lightly traced her cuntlips. Gosh was she soaked! So slippery. So wet. So hot. She was amazed steam wasn’t rising.

The smell of super-heated cunt suffused the room.

Her finger trailed up, gently touching the bud nestled between her swollen lips.

‘Gaaawd” she whispered into the silent room. Her hips lifted fractionally from the bed, increasing the pressure on her sensitive spot, eliciting yet another low moan.

The phone chose that moment to chime.

And chime again.

And chime again.

Oh, fercrissakes!! Keeping the pressure on her clit, she grabbed the phone with her free hand, and thumbed her text icon.

“No Touching.”

“NO touching.”

“NO TOUCHING. I *WILL* know, slut.”

Her eyes rolled, but her finger slid from her bud.

“AAARRRRGGGHHHH!” she yelled at the ceiling.


Eyes still closed, she thumbed the icon, then lifted the phone and held it up over her face.

“Calling. Pick up.”

The phone rang and she answered.

“Yes Sir?”

“Poor little pussy. I’m guessing you’ve been a bit of a spoiled slut and been sitting there whining a bit, touching that lost land?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Yes, Sir, as a matter of fact, i was.  i did. i am.

“Hands off my cunt.”

His voice was hard, but not angry, and her hand rose from her pussy, wet and sticky with her juices.

“Clean your fucking hand up, and then you keep your fingers off of my cunt. Do you understand slut?”

She began licking and sucking her fingers. ” Yeth Thir”

“Good. Do not disappoint me, slut. I’m holding my hand over that hole, taking away all access to it. You keep fingers, toys, tools, anything, ANYTHING off and out of my cunt.”

“yes Sir”  Her voice came out in a soft little girl whisper now, as she felt His control over her. So strong, so commanding.  She hated it. She craved  it. Even this verbal reprimand. And she knew it was a reprimand.

Once before she had lost communication privileges for 24 hours for forgetting her subbie manners. It was a lesson not lost on her.

She would submit.

She would wait.

She was His.

“Yes, Sir, i will obey you.”

“Goood, that’s my good girl. Just remember, slut, My hand, My Control, covers your hole now.


The phone clicked and he was gone.

She would wait.

But for fucks sake it wasn’t going to be easy.

Red Convertible (fini)

The elevator took them quickly to the 45th floor. It didn’t seem to faze Him in the least that the curved glass wall of the enclosure exposed them to Times Square. His hand continued to curve around her shapely ass, while his other hand kept her tucked against him, her butt on full view as he lifted her skirt once more, and slipped his fingers up and down her delectable crack.

“Someone will see us!” she hissed at him, her face nearly crimson.

“Is your cunt wet, little one?”

She made a sound that was born of frustration and humiliation. His finger pressed against her asshole, a silent warning to behave.

And dammit! She was so wet that she might splash when she walked!

“Yes sir, ” she murmured, voice low, humbled by her need. He smiled.

The 45th floor icon lit up, accompanied by a discreet “bong”.   He slowly lowered her skirt as the doors opened before them. He took her elbow and steered her to their room.

It was a suite, overlooking the Square. She ran to the windows, and looked down to the thronging crowds below. Night had fallen, and the neon signs pierced the night.  Natives pressed forward on their way to the nights amusements, as throngs of tourists stared gap-mouthed at the wonders of New York’s Great White Way.

He came up behind her, taking her hands and pressing them to the wall of glass, palms flat. They were raised higher than her head, not uncomfortable, but it could become a challenge. She knew his rule. In the texts that followed that initial phone call, He’d told her His three basic rules.  1. LISTEN 2. STAY 3. FOLLOW DIRECTIONS. His goal was their mutual satisfaction, He had said.  She knew rule two was now in play.

“Stay in posture until I have released you to move”

His torso pressed against her, slowly pushing her hips against the glass. His hands came up to cup her tits, squeezing hard for a moment.

He released her, even as she gasped at the sudden pain. Gods, what a grip He had!

Then they moved on. She could see Him reflected behind her, looking at her. His hands rubbed over her hips, resting lightly there for a moment, thumbs caressing the small of her back, before rising to her nape. Those same fingers trailed lightly there, tugging a stray curl that had escaped her chignon, and a moment later, the steady zzzzzzzzzz of her zipper being released.

“Arms down.”

She let them rest against her sides, as the tip of his forefinger gently nudged the first strap off of her left shoulder. It fell in a dark grin against the paleness of her skin. She saw both dark smiles, her fallen strap, and His, as reflections in the window glass. He pushed the other strap off; a whisper of a touch against aroused flesh.  She shivered as those mirroed, hypnotic eyes met hers. Neither saw the brilliant glow beyond the glass, caught in a brightness that more than rivaled the street scene far below.

Just a little nudge and the black dress slithered down her body to lay in a naughty pile at her feet. She was left in 3 inch black stiletto’s  and a falling down bun.

He took her hair in his fist, pulling her head back hard enough to draw tears from her eyes, and her pussy. The trail of wetness between her thighs was almost shocking.

“open your mouth”

When she complied, he took the little swath of silk from his breast pocket and placed it inside, then used his finger against her chin to shut it.

“Your panties are dirty, little one. Clean them up for Me.”  His voice, smooth as the silk in her mouth, brushed her ear.

Her mouth froze. He’d put her panties in her mouth. Her soaked panties. Not so much fabric there to be an effective gag, but she would be busy using her tongue to do as he requested.

He pressed her fully against the glass, taking her wrists, and placing her hands up again. The window was cold against her heated flesh, and she shivered mightily. Her nipples rose, poking hard against the solid surface, and she swore she could hear the sizzle when He pressed her ass forward, mashing her mons. She knew there would be a smear of juice on the window later.

He stepped away.  She hadn’t realized that He’d been here earlier, but she could see His reflection, bending over a bag on the desk. She couldn’t make out what he was taking from it, however.

She heard a small *snick*. And heard the whoosh as the first stroke fell upon her exposed ass.

“OW!” she yelped, pressing harder against the glass. She wondered if she could be seen from here, body outlined against the night. Wondered if someone out for a show, would get one for free, simply by looking up. The wadded panties in her mouth did nothing to forstall her cries as she heard the tell-tale whoosh a moment before she felt it.



she saw his smile in the glass.

“you redden up nicely, little girl.” His hand caressed the two stripes across her cheeks.

“what is that?” her voice came out husky, soft, murmured around the now saturated panties. The stripes hurt, but in such a wonderful way. Her clit was throbbing in time to the hot hurt.

“The retractable pointer I sometimes use in class,” He replied, thwacking her with it several times in quick succession.

Her cries rose as she tiptoed, looking for all the world as though she was attempting to climb the smooth, slick glass.

“Nice, hmmm?”  His voice, filled with humor, was rich. She would appreciate it later, she thought, as another wicked volley played across her asscheeks. She felt on fire. Her ass hurt, throbbed painfully, and her pussy was  simply drooling.

That such a simple act could bring her to this state of wanton need stunned her.

“Thank you, Sir.”  She took a deep breath, holding it a moment, absorbing the feel of her burning flesh.

“That’s a lovely girl.”   He stroked her scorched butt with gentle, circling strokes. She pressed back into his palm. The first slap of his bare hand against the newly tenderized cheeks was shocking.



The cold window at her front frosted with her warm outline.

The heated flesh under his hand reddened, and dripped.

Her chignon fell apart as the last slap echoed in the room, her hands closed into fists but still pressed to the glass, as the breath squealed from between her clenched lips.

He took her hair into his hands, and pulled her away from the window. Grabbing her chin, he pulled the wet panties from her mouth.

“Time to start our fun, little one.   I can think of better uses for that mouth of yours.” He whispered into her ear.

Start? Oh. My.

The smile bloomed across her face.

The glow of her spanking bloomed across her ass.

“Yes Sir!”

“I’m going to take you for a ride, little girl.”

She knew he wasn’t talking about his red convertible.

He Fucked with My Head

He fucked my head way before he ever decided to fuck my body.

Have you ever been inspected?

It’s hot. Verrah hot.

It’s humiliating. I’ve never been much into humiliation. Not into being embarrassed. I can embarrass myself quite easily without Him sticking his Domlyness into the mix.

Thank you very much, Sir.

Not that i *said* that, mind you. When He says

“bend over, slut,”  you can be damned certain i’m bending as the words are leaving His mouth.

His hands pull my ass cheeks apart. Oh fucking hell. You must be joking, right? Inside i’m squirming. Mumbling “no no oh no, don’t look at my asshole.”

Thinking, writhing inside.

“Please, sweet Mother of All, please don’t let Him say anything about it.”

He does.

About my little puckered anus. How tiny it looks, all shut up tight. But He knows. He knows inside my head that i want Him to put something there. He pokes with His finger. Prods. Feels the resistance.

I feel Him smile. He makes that noise in the back of His throat. If you’re a sub, you’ve likely heard your Dom/Master/Sir make that noise. If your a Dom/Master/Sir? You have too made that noise. We hear it. It makes us shiver and wet ourselves for you.

Is it approval? The predatory pre-growl? A purr for the fun to ensue?

He knows, you see, that i hate him knowing.

I hate him seeing my little brown hole yield to Him.

Because then i have to admit it.

i have to admit it.

***  +*+  ***

i have to admit that i like it

OH yeah.

He fucked with my head, opened up my head, opened up my ass.

Stretched me into what He wants.

He wants me embarrassed.

He wants me to curl my toes with humilation.

He wants me to admit it.

He wants me  to admit that i’m his little anal whore.

and i like that He makes me.

Red Convertible (for marci)

It was a lovely afternoon, the sun shining pleasantly between the towering buildings of Town. She took a taxi  most of the way, but a few blocks shy, she instructed the driver to drop her off. It would help to calm her racing heart, she mused, her heels clicking in rhythm with her rapidly beating pulse, as she walked the rest of the way to the hotel.

She was a bit worried. Meeting a new Dom for the first time was always a bit like crossing the street during rush hour. In Manhattan. Blindfolded. Okay, maybe not blindfolded, but still.

They’d met by purest happenstance.

She had been standing on the street corner, attempting to cross, too impatient to wait for the light.  He’d whizzed by in his spiffy red convertible, so close to her that the wind from his passage briskly flipped the hem of her jacket. They made eye contact for 3 nano-seconds. He attempted to slow, but the cars behind set up a ruckus. He sped off, and she watched with no little regret as he buzzed off around the corner.

He was one fine lookin’ man.

Of course, she didn’t want just a fine lookin’ man. She wanted a strong man, a dominant man. A Man who was a Dom. Someone to release herself to. Fat chance she had of that…

The convertible scrrrrched to a halt in front of her. He’d run ’round the block.

He extended his card to her across the vacant passenger seat.

“Call.”  It was an order, not a request, nor a plea. Before she could do more than take the card, and stare at him like a bemused idiot, he roared off. She stood watching him, holding his card between her thumb and forefinger, feeling the sudden rush of heat in her pussy.


Later that night, snuggled with her dogs in her lap, her laptop booting up some truly hot, hawt, smut, she picked the card up and thumbed it over.

The only thing written there was an embossed, cursive  B, and a number.

She lay back a moment, eyes closed, dreaming a bit. Should she? She did hate when someone ordered her to do something unless she was *in* relationship with them. But he’d run around the block to find her again, no small feat in mid-town, and he was cute. Cute? Maybe too tame a word. Compelling. Yes, he was certainly that.

Besides, she was feel a compelling urge to obey. The submissive side of her reared up, and almost without awareness, she had dialed the phone.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

That was how He had answered the phone. Remembering it now, as she stepped into the nicely appointed hotel lobby, sent a shiver up her spine.

He was there.

There, leaning against the far wall, one shoulder braced against the marble column near the front desk. His eyes were so fucking intense.  She felt as if He had lifted a curtain and was peering inside of her. It was as though the space between them was nothing. Her tummy quivered. Oh, my gawd, that he could do this to her with just that look.

He made her walk half-way, before he pushed off, and strode over to take her hand. She expected a crushing hand hold, but instead, He raised her hand to his mouth, and kissed each finger.

Her breath sighed out of her. Oh My Gawd. This was her ultimate fantasy. Tall, dark, handsome, seductive. Despite the very D/s nature of this new relationship, that he would tease and seduce her spoke volumes as to how this was heading…sweet, so sweet. She shivered as his mouth continued to work on her captive hand. He wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

His tongue gently teased between her fingers, as his other arm began scooping her into an embrace.

Except it wasn’t really an embrace. He was steering her, ever so subtly, to a stand of potted trees near the splashing fountain at the edge of the foyer. Her back was to the palm, as His hand cruised down the curve of her ass.

She normally wanted to get to know someone before they patted her ass.  He was sweet, but there was a whole lot of spicy in the mix. She felt the anticipation building in her, nipples growing hard, pussy getting moist. Maybe more than moist, she thought, as His teeth bit on the pad of her middle finger.

For a moment, she struggled with herself.  After all, she was a strong and capable woman. And here she was, turning into a pile of slut mush as His mouth worked dangerous miracles on her fingers. His tongue fucked gently between her fore-and-middle fingers, brushing the webbing back and forth. A low whoosh of breath came from her, as she half closed her eyes, falling into a happy, sexual place. She tried to keep some perspective. Strong. Capable. Woman. But who knew there were nerves that connected fingers and pussy?

She was a strong, capable woman. He was stronger. And she wasn’t thinking about his well-muscled arms. This man was ALL Dom.

They had yet to speak a single word to each other. Not hi, hello, how are you, none of the expected niceties. She’d not commented on his suit, nor He on her choice of dress.

She had chosen the little black dress with care. She didn’t always wear black, she liked being a girly-girl. But this occasion just seemed to call for it. The front appeared discreet, until one got close enough to notice that the panel covering her tits was translucent. The swirled pattern of the flocking hid this from casual glances, but for anyone truly looking, her tits were nearly fully exposed.

She wondered if he noticed, so consumed was he with her hand and fingers. As if reading her mind, He lowered her hand from his mouth, retaining it in his own larger one.

He noticed.

His eyes lit on her chest, then back to her face, and the smile there was all wolf.  Her pussy reacted, instantly. The wolf’s smile deepened.  She flushed. Uncertain whether it was in reaction or embarrassment, she attempted to pull her hand away.

He pulled her closer with it.

His breath caressed her ear, and for a moment she melted against him. He smelled earthy, manly. All those rich scents that she associated with them.  Not perfume-y, just His own intoxicating smell.  His lips lay for a moment on her hair, then  slipped softly down to the slender column of her neck.

She felt His teeth grazing along that tender place beneath her ear, and shuddered with the rise of heat in her pussy. The hand holding hers slid behind her, pulling her hand along and placing it mid-back. Submissive position.

His other hand had been busy. Slowly, ever so slowly He had gathered up the backside of her dress. Unbeknownst to her, her ass had slowly become exposed.

“Use your free hand and slip out of those panties,” He whispered against her ear.

That, of course, was when she noted the sudden elevation of her dress.

Her heart thumped madly. She struggled a brief moment, before deciding that it would be better to give him what He wanted,  the faster to lower her skirt once more.

Her free hand fumbled to grasp the rear band of her thong panties. He held her upright, that hand still holding hers at her lower back.   The other was gathered in her skirt,  so she struggled a bit to slip the band over both hips, and step out of them somewhat gracefully in 3 inch heels.

She held them in her hand, her breath coming in short little gasps. She felt his hand slide down her bare cheek, as he pulled the skirt of her dress down.

“Good girl, ” He spoke softly in her ear.

The shiver skittered up her spine. Oh, how she loved being a good girl. And oh dear gawd, was her pussy soaked.

He took the panties from her limp hand, as she attempted to hide them in her palm. He raised them to his nose, inhaling her fragrance, all the while holding her eyes with His.

The wolf was scenting his prey.

The Break-in (part 3)

this has been a long time coming though truth be told there are older tales left unfinished…and someday, somewhen, my sweet pervie readers, they shall be told in their entirety….

to refresh you, part two went like this

His fingers tickled as he slowly released each button. He was taking his time, tormenting her with the teasing brushes of his fingertips on her flesh. She was still shuddering from her last denied orgasm,  and feeling the pain of her cuntlips pulled cruelly open, her throbbing clit pegged with a clothes pin as well.

His hands kneaded her flesh through her bra, then she felt the release of the front clasp. The bra pinged away, elastic allowed to return to its relaxed shape, leaving her breasts naked, exposed.

“Found these babies down in the tools section,” his voice, though muffled by the hood he’d secured around her, was clearly amused.

She felt the weight of the C-clamps as he lay them on her chest. The sound of the crank as he wound it down was ominous. She knew exactly what they were by the time he pinched her left nipple in his fingers kneading it to a full, stiff  peak, and placed the top edge of the cold metal against her warm flesh. Even as she shivered with the chill, he began twirling the screw shut.

Her heart pounded furiously in her chest. She felt the first bite as the clamp began to tighten firmly around her nipple. She tossed her head as he continued twirling the clamp tightly. He tugged experimentally. It stayed on. She moaned through the gag in her mouth.

“Mmmm, nice, I’m loving that little squeal” he said.

The fucker was taunting her. She tried to buck, but she was tied too tightly. All she managed was to make the clamp slide off her tit a bit, and hang. Oh, fucking Ow…

“Silly girl, did you think you were going anywhere? We still have a long time to play…and I have all these fun toys to try out before I buy them. You do have a money back guarantee, right?”

She shook her head wildly, and he laughed. Laughed even as he secured the second clamp onto her right nipple.

“oh, sooooo purdy,” His voice mocked, as his hand slapped down on her captured nipple.

Her yelp of pain was immediate, though her pussy responded quite differently. Of course, he noticed. She felt his hands sliding up over her thighs, over the rough hook -n-loop tape and tug painfully at the wooden pins that pegged her open.

“Ooooh, you little slut. Your mouth says ‘you bastard’ and your pussy says ‘oooooh Master…’  You’re so fucking hot to be fucked, my little pain slut.

And she knew.

Ryan. It had to be Ryan. They’d met just once, at one of the last Munches’ she’d attended before moving from the Big City to Vermont. They’d hooked up during that event, and he was very into her, and exploring her addiction to pain. But she’d explained the move.

He’d been disappointed. Verrrry disappointed. As she recalled, he’d grabbed a chunk of her hair, tilting her backwards and growling into her face how annoyed he was that he’d found the “perfect” sub and now she was running away on him?

Truth be told, she was a bit frightened by that point. “Crazy Stalker Dude” is what she had labeled him in her blog entry that night. Little did she know. How He had found her, and why now after all this time bemused her. Yet she recalled too, that after their  session at the Munch, he’d been tender, careful of her hurts, though he had pincered her nipples in his hands one last time before she left. Tenderness with a bite. Was he a crazy stalker dude?

There was no denying that what he was doing to her was frightening, but even more so, sexually stimulating. She hadn’t been this needy in a long time, and her pussy was screaming for release, despite the pain.

Or because of it.

She wouldn’t dwell on that.

She felt something pressing against her hole.

“Getting a bit of lube here,” he said, as he ran whatever he held up and down her soaked slit. She felt the insistent push of something against her rectum.

“You have such a lovely variety of knobs and handles. Considering that you’re out here in the fucking boonies, you know? Take this lovely brushed aluminum knob. It fits great on the end of the metal dowel here. And just the right size to give your asshole a lovely “how do you do”. ” His laugh was just this side of mean.

She growled into her gag. She tried to squeeze her ass tightly, but he pressed inward and with a pop, the round knob was through.

She arched up on the bed. That fucking-A hurt!!! And he was still pushing. And pushing. She thought he must be putting 2 feet of the fat, cold dowel up her rectum.  she was tossing her head and moaning with the sudden stretching.

He released the clip on her clit as he pulled the makeshift dildo out of her ass with a pop.

Her orgasm took her by surprise, shaking and drenching the bed. Even as waves of pleasure took over her cunt, he was pressing the knob back into her ass, fucking her slowly.

The waves of orgasm wound down, even as the waves of pain increased. Blood flowed to her abused clit. Her pinned nipples throbbed. She hurt, and she was pleasured.

He left the dildo in her ass as he unwound the rope from her neck, and pulled the pillowcase from her head.

Her hair was a tangled nest of silky tresses, clinging to her sweaty face, her wet lips. He pulled the gag from her mouth, replacing it with his lips. As she moaned against his invading tongue, his cock began to fill her cunt. The bite of the clothespins holding her lower lips apart faded. All she wanted was to be filled.

To be fucked.

To be whole again.

His cock was long, girthy. She’d remembered teasing him about being a porno star, how he’d actually blushed a little. Who knew a man could be embarrassed about that? She’d found that rather endearing, actually.

That girth was filling her so good, pressing and spreading her cunt like a garden spade split the earth. Her dildo was not this big. It had been forever since she had been fucked like this. The added presence of the thick dowel buried in her asshole, combined with his super-filling cock drove her over the edge, and she spasmed yet again.

He moaned when her cunt convulsed around him, but he slowed the pace. Not for nothing was he the Top. Control was everything. He wanted her to cum again, and again. It was merely another form of control, after all. He could deny her, and likely would, someday. But for now, it was all about making her, forcing her, to give him what He wanted. And he wanted her cum.

He fucked her, filled her, until she came yet again. She could hardly stand it, the pain the pleasure the intensity. Her head was bobbling around like a broken-necked doll.

And he pulled out.

His hands, which had been holding onto her arms, tied to the head of her bed, slid down as he sat on her lower belly, his engorged cock throbbing wetly against her abdomen.

His fingers curled under the open “C” of the clamps on her tits. And he lifted. Lifted straight up, until her tits were pulled into hard tight cones, her head pressing back as she tried to raise her torso to accommodate the pull.

The tears fell before the sound escaped her mouth. Silvery streaks beading from her outer eyes, sluicing down her face, filling her ears, dampening the bedding beneath her.

“Take it, cunt,” He ground out, his cock growing impossibly larger as he drank in her agony.

He dropped the clamps in unison, her tits and the devices falling hard against her torso.  He anticipated the cry that would come from her mouth, and he fell upon her, his mouth swallowing her scream. His chest pressing the clamps into her, hurting her more. His cock slid into the vee between her thighs, splashing in the renewed wetness there.

He entered her cunt ungently, fucking urgently. Reaching down, he pumped the dildo he’d made for her ass, sliding it up and down her back hole. He felt the bulbous head of the knob rubbing on his cock, moaning at the sudden pleasure there. She was squirming to move him, his body crushing her tits, increasing her pain, until he felt her cunt clench down on him in a sudden orgasm.

He smiled against her throat. Little pain slut.

He fucked her until he punched her cunt into yet another orgasm. His balls tightened in response, and he could not stop the boil that became insistent. He slammed into her fuck hole once, twice, a third time, striving to bury himself fully into her, balls deep, ass deep, his body merging, and consuming hers, as his cock spat his fuck juice up into her clenching cunt.

He lay upon her for a moment, catching his breath.

He levered up on one elbow, watching her eyes blinking at him, knowing she was lost, destroyed by the powerful orgasms he’d pulled from her.

“Almost time to unwrap you, my little pain-slut.” He smiled, his grin feral, yearning.

Her eyes fluttered closed, as she moaned from low in her belly.

“This was always the worst part,”  she thought.

“This was always the best part,”  He thought.

The Game


Face against the wall.

He stands behind me, hands grasping my hips.

His torso, the warm and solid presence of Man, pressed against me. His head pressed against mine, his chin hooked over my shoulder.

His voice slips softly like a feathery touch into my ear.

“We’re going to play a new game, nilla.”


Usually, i like games. He’s never played a “game” with me before, but smart cookie that i am, i *know* the cards are already slanted in His favor.

“o-o-o kay, Sir”

It’s not like i had another answer, another choice, right? i hate that my voice is little girl soft, little girl nervous. i bite my lip.

“It’s called left hand, right hand.”   He continues, his voice absolutely mesmerizing me. Soft, honeyed tones. mellifluous.  i shiver. i don’t hear the sadist all that often in Him, but it was clear with whom i was playing this game.

“you get to choose which implement i spank your ass with next, little girl.”

Now i hear the smile in His voice, the thin veil of “nice” that veils His evil intent.

It’s too easy.

Nothing is that fucking easy.

i wait, breathing a bit more rapidly now. My arms are swathed in long black satin gloves, from my fingers to my mid-arm. Sexy. i feel sooo sexy in them. Those black-clad fingers splayed across the wall in front of me, pressing forward as if to do a vertical push-up.

And i feel the insistent presence of His heat against my left side. He softly rubs His beard across my cheek.

“Hmmmmm?” He queries. “Time to choose, nilla. Left hand?” He pauses, waits a beat. “Or right.”

i am past verbal. i wonder if any sound will escape if i try. Slowly, my right hand fingers its way up the wall.

“OOoooooh, good, Right hand!” He laughs.  “What a terrible choice nilla!” and He laughs.

The Sadist has come to play.

The Mountain Pt 8

Their time in the mountains had begun to draw inexorably to a close. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what the highlights had been…so many sexy adventures. Serving Master and Mistress in any way, from steak grilling, to assisting Master in securing his sub in a variety of intricate, secure ways…it had been eye-opening, exhilarating, intensely sexual fun.

He wondered if his marriage had ever been better. Likely, not, at least, not like this. It never failed to stir his heart, seeing her so happy. And it never failed to stir his cock, seeing her fulfilled. Who could have guessed that the dual role as his Mistress, and as Master’s slut would have filled them both with a renewed sense of love, companionship, and sexual heat?


Her voice rang across the clearing, where he was gathering blowdowns for their final campfire tonight. It sent a shiver right to his cock, stirring it painfully against the tight confines of the toothed cage around his rod. Her voice was sinfully rich, husky and deeply sexy.

He headed back to the porch where she waited, her hair blowing in the wind, her nipples perkily poking out as the fresh breeze wafted against her bare golden skin. He never tired of looking at her, his sense of pride, and okay, a bit of cave-man ownership. Despite being her slave, she was his. Always, his.

And then the tall man who was her Master, and his Master by proxy, came out of the cabin to stand behind her. One hand rose to twine in her hair, tilting her head back while He nuzzled her neck, leaving her twisting and turning to free herself as he bit that tender, succulent flesh. Yet she was laughing as well. His other hand was not in sight, and slave imagined it was caressing her oh-so-lovely ass.

He felt no jealousy. The only thing stabbing through him was pain, the pain of steel teeth on a rapidly rising cock.  A fresh surge of lust rose in his balls, though he tried to tamp it down. It was so fucking erotic, watching Master manhandle this wanton slut. Master’s slut, and slaves Wife and Mistress.

He headed back to the porch with his bundle of firewood. Master was still playing with Mistress, and she was attempting to fend off his busy hands, though slave didn’t really sense sincerity in her “fight”.

He hated to interrupt, and he certainly enjoyed watching her tits bounce, nipples now extremely erect, as Master toyed with her. Still, a command was a command.

“Yes Mistress?”

A gurgling moan was his only reply. His cock pulsed back to life, watching the two of them.

“Inside slave” she gasped, as Master reached around and pinched one delightful nipple, hard and obviously painfully.

He edged around them, not quite hearing Master’s words to Mistress, though he thought he heard him say “won’t like that much.”

That made his heart lurch a bit.

Master was a definite Dominant, with a wide streak of sadism. Mistress had her moments. What the fuck had they devised this time?

He went into the bedroom, and knelt on the pillow beside it. They had graciously given him the pillow when Mistress noted that he was stiffly rising after kneeling there several days ago. She was benevolent.

A few minutes later, Mistress came into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, looking down at her slave. Her eyes were solemn.

“He wants to watch me fuck you in the ass, slave.” She said it baldly, dropping the words into the room. While Master certainly knew this occurred, it was quite one thing to blog about it, and another altogether to actually have someone witness it first hand.

He gulped. Still. They’d talked about going to a D/s club when they traveled, and this would be a field test for them both.

“Yes, Mistress. Shall i get Your tools?”

“Not this time, slave. Bend over the spanking bench.”

He was startled. Usually they fucked in the bed, a large pillow supporting him. And teasing him. His cock got so fucking hard this way. And it always ended with a lovely fucking session. When in Rome….

When he was positioned over the bench, he felt humbled, a bit nervous, and oddly sexually stimulated. His cock was being bitten by the cage surrounding it, and he used his mind to think of banal things to relieve some of the sexual pressure. He wondered if the lawn guys had applied the fall fertilizer yet, back at home, and if his team had won their big football game with the number 2 team.

His cock deflated, but minimally. It would seem as though the spanking bench was in and of itself, a definite turn-on.

He heard sounds behind him, and felt Mistress approach. She lubed him, and he tried to relax. The beginning was the worst, getting his anus to relax and to begin to enjoy the ride, as it were.

He moaned when the dildo slid in. He’d worried for a while that Master had commanded her to use the giant fist dildo, but obviously not.  He realized that the cage remained locked in place.

Oh Fuck!

This could be bad.

Yet, as she began fucking him in earnest, a curious thing happened. He was horny, erect, or as erect as he could be in the confinement of the cage, but he was so aware of her total dominance over him, and it was, as a friend of his would say, “fawking hawt”!

His eyes closed and he focused inward on the myriad of sensations in his body, the delightful sounds of Mistress cumming as she fucked him, when his chin was lifted.

Master stood in front of him, his large thick cock protruding from his lower belly. It was an impressive cock, and he knew Mistress had certainly enjoyed it this week.

“Suck it.”

His eyes shot up to stare at Master. No. Fucking. Way!!!

From behind him, Mistress drove into his ass with renewed vigor. He could tell by the timbre of her breathing that she was reaching closer to another orgasm.






each word, punctuated by her thrusting forcefully into his rectum. For a moment he was lost in sensation, the hyper-erotic sensation of being taken this way, of submitting to Her, the rub on his prostate as she fucked with vigor.

She had ORDERED him to submit.

What the fuck was he going to do?

He opened his eyes and looked once more at the large thick cock in front of him.

And opened his mouth.