The Paddler pt 4

part three here

When he finally slid his cock into her steaming cunt, he was certain he’d found heaven.

The walls of her pussy welcomed him,  the wet slickness of her juices allowing his thick meat to penetrate her fully, while contracting and squeezing him like a hot velvet fist.

They moaned in unison.

It was so good, so fucking good that he just lay there a moment, buried between her splayed thighs. He could feel the racing of her heart under his chest, the rapid rise and fall of her tits as she panted around the gag in her mouth.

He reached up and released the gag. He wanted to hear her scream as he fucked her.

He wanted the dark water surrounding their island to echo the calls of her lust, to carry the sound of her cries, those guttural cries of release, of want, of need to the pines that surrounded the secluded lake shore.

She was an animal in heat, wanton, crazed with the need to be fucked he’d so patiently stirred with in her.

His cock throbbed inside of her, she felt every molecule of him filling her.

She was so fucking, gloriously alive!

He withdrew from her hole, then slammed back. This was not a gentle dance of lovemaking, but wild, animal fucking. He pounded her, as she pushed up as much as she was able. Tied in a spread-eagle on the ground near her campsite, she was helpless to do anything but submit.

He filled her, a hard rush of flesh plowing into her furrow. It was gloriously raw, and every fiber of her being boiled with the upsurge of need.

She threw back her head and growled.

“Fuck meeeeee…..”

His grunting laughter rilled around them, as he continued his hard-thrusting strokes. Her cuntlips pulled apart, then grabbed at him with every exit and re-entry. Her clit was rubbed by his groin when he sunk fully into her, and her accompanying wail of


beat in staccato counterpoint to the slapping of flesh against flesh. The sounds grew wetter, and more frantic.

They came in a mutual eruption, his mouth sinking into her tit, biting and pulling at her, before he threw back his head and roared, lion-like, as his seed gushed forth to fill her grasping hole.

Her ululating cry filled the night. Loons in the lake splashed away in a flurry of sound as she continued to cry her release.

Wave after wave of pleasure, from her core, from her clit rolled over her. Her body shook from the force of her orgasms.

When the explosion quieted, they both lay, collapsed together, bodies throbbing, and cooling in the darkness of the Northwoods night.  Crickets, which had stilled in the sudden explosion of sounds from the island, suddenly renewed their songs in an effort to find their own mates.

He sat up slowly, shaking his head. He felt like he’d been hit by a tsunami.

He released her, rubbing her wrists, before pulling her into another heated kiss.  He helped her rise, both unsteady, bracing each other as they made their halting way to her tent.

Twined together in their conjoined sleeping bags, they slept.

The Munch

“What the hell.”

Sometimes she just threw caution to the wind.  Driving down the mid-state highway to a destination she had never been to before. Her life was full, busy, fulfilling.


But inside, inside where no one dared to go? She laughed to herself, thinking of ancient mariners and old sea maps…”there be dragons”, and knew that was apt for her inner headspace.

Her dragons were myriad. Bondage and forced fucking. Group sex or gangbang. Tit torture and anal plugs. If it was kinky, she wanted to try it.

But she never did.

She sat in safety in her apartment, maple trees running their cycles from bare skeletons, to greenly leafed,  to colored miracles. She read, she craved. She watched, she rubbed. She dreamed.

The kink list she was on had a semi local group.

But she never was brave enough to go. Boyfriends came and went, some would spank, some would take her ass. And there was that douche one, who had tied her up and left her for 4 hours to watch football. How she had anticipated that fucking!  But alas! The fucktard had fallen  asleep on the couch and got up and left at midnight, completely forgetting her until morning, when he returned, sheepishly, and set her free. She could look back at that and smile a bit.

There’d even been a few short-term Dom’s. Master Hurtsalot, oh, he was a piece of work. All whips and chains and bluster. He should have been called Mr. Premature Ejaculation, in leather pants.

Mr. M had been great, very strong, very controlling, but she found him too late, as he was preparing a move to the Netherlands. They’d had a few very hot sessions, and still traded occasional emails.

Now she’d done it. Seen the blurb on the website announcing a Munch. She had finally decided she had nothing to lose.  And who knew what she would find?

What the hell?!


She’d dressed carefully. Not wanting to appear too sluttish, she still wanted to fit in. Dammit, why was this so hard!? In the end, she chose a soft pink sweater, very tight-fitting, showing off her jutting tits. A simple black skirt looked discreet, coming midway to her knees, but the sides were slit to her hip. She chose black fishnet stockings, crotchless of course, and triple strapped 4 inch heels in black leather. The studs across the straps were silver, and coordinated with her silver hoop earrings with the floating pink beads.

After some debate, she wore her long hair loose, but slipped a scrunchy pink hair tie around her wrist for an emergency pony tail fix.

She inspected herself in the mirror. Subtly slutty, definitely sexy. She took a deep breath.

She was ready.


She arrived at the Dungeon. A D/s bar outside the city limits, she’d driven past here a million times. Never had the gumption to stop, but, as they said, that was then, this was now.

She found a parking spot, and swallowed the nerves threatening to choke her. Her nipples rose, her breathing shortened and she took herself to task.

“Calm the fuck down.”

“Calm the fuck down.”

She slipped from her little mini car, and, despite shaking knees, walked to the door.

There was electricity in the air when she opened the door. Colors, lights and the throbbing of some alternative music through the walls, the floor.  And people. So many different kinds of people. A man walked by, tall, golden-haired, wearing a spiked collar and …dear goddess. A cock cage! She didn’t want to stare.

She couldn’t help staring.

She’d never before seen a man’s penis subjected to this! It was fascinating. It looked cruel. The shiver ran down her spine without warning, and her nipples peaked. The caged man gave her a sidelong glance, and a pointed look at her chest. He smiled, then grimaced a bit.

She looked down, and saw his cock swelling, and the proud flesh of his cock being bitten by the teeth lining the cage. OMG! She’d hurt him…!

“Sorry…” she mouthed.

He merely smiled and moved on.

She stepped further into the room. Some kind of demonstration was happening on the right side of the room, a woman holding a short whip was slapping at yet another man, who was tied, spread-eagled and standing. She saw large rings in the floor to which his ankles had been tied, and two more suspended from the ceiling. Her voice was rich, deep, sultry, as she showed a variety of whips and spanking implements, using each in turn on her live model.

She might have thought he hated it, from the moans and groans, but his cock was rigid, jutting out towards the crowd. As she passed by, she heard the Mistress warn him not to cum “or else”.

With all those implements at hand, she could only imagine the “or else”.

She tried not to gawk. But the girl in gossamer pants and topless was sooo pretty. The multiple clamps affixed to her tits made her nipples engorged, and the swinging chains, from delicate filigree to heavy tow chains were enthralling to watch as the girl moved around her Owner, serving him a drink before settling between his feet.  How could she not watch when the girl took his cock in  her hands, and stroked it? It was so thick she doubted the small thing could even fit it into her mouth, and she had to watch just to see how she did it. Didn’t she?

Watching that little mouth swallow that monster of a cock made her pussy throb into life.  She swallowed hard, imagining her in that place, chains clanking as she bobbed up and down  on that thick meaty cock.

She’d only been here  a few minutes, and already she was so glad she had come. Open kink, sexually free people, and a wealth of visual stimulation. She continued to thread her way towards the bar.

What the hell!

The Fires Within

He lights the fire slowly. Stroking the embers from the earlier blaze, his fingers almost gently working to ignite again.

She moans.

How can she ?How can she come again into that fire?

 Ass ablaze from the myriad of blows that turned pale flesh ruddy and mottled.

Tits on fire from the crisscrossing of stripes, clothing her in his touch.

He may think the fire has simmered to embers but she knows different.

His fire still burns across her flesh.

His need still burns within her heart.

His desires are still matched by hers.

Slowly she releases her fuel for his fire, quicksilver lighting the trail to her molten core.

Almost Perfect

She stood, still, silent, almost perfect.

He walked around her, looking. Watching, Waiting.

Her tits jutted out, nipples distended. Her eyes faced front, pools of color so deep. Her arms were behind her back, fist into palm, shoulders back.

So very close to perfection.

He didn’t notice soft wrinkles…they were part of her package.

He didn’t pay attention to softly rounded belly.

He did notice her curvy ass, just begging to be attended to.

All part of her package, he mused again. He was pleased that she was so obedient, so willing to stand and wait on his word. She was curious, he knew, and nervous as well.

He could see her rapid pulse, beating gently in the shadowed hollow at the base of her throat.

He could see her tits rise, fall, jiggle with every short, rapid breath.

He could smell wet pussy, and was certain that if he stared at the juncture of thighs and belly, or thighs and ass, he would see her dewy drops there. The weeping of a needy pussy.

He held that pussy in his figurative hand.

No cum for many days now. She was so fucking needy.

He liked her like that.

She would do anything, anything, without a moment of hesitation, eager to get his hands on her soft flesh.

He’d taken her coat off of her, a gentleman to his core, and she’d given him a sideways look, and a soft murmuring  “Sir?”

He’d raised his brow, a gesture she took as “continue slut.”

“hurt me please.”

He’d smiled at that. Sweet, lovely woman, begging for pain.

He was smiling as he fastened the first clamp onto her distended nipple. The sound that came from her was a mix of pain and pleasure. The sound someone makes when biting into a long-craved meal, only to find it too hot.

“mmmmmMMMMMM….. OWOW!”

He pulled and tugged the clamp, seating it just where He wanted it. His cock stirred as he watched her nipple dimple under the clamp-head. Seeing her body take his pain was such a fucking turn on. Watching the colors bloom on her, the lines taking shape, the bite of clamps or pins …a heady rush of desires coming to fulfillment.

He took his time clamping the other nipple. He pulled it with his fingers, first pulling her forward, then lifting the tit up.

That made her squirm a bit, rising to her tiptoes with the pull of his hand, although she kept her hands firmly behind her back.

He pressed his body close, wrapping his free hand around her, hugging her to him, his hand clasped over her closed hands, lifting them up, and forcing her tits to thrust even further up, to move even closer to him. His other hand remained on her tit, pulling, pinching and twisting.

He felt the brush of her long hair on his forearm, the hot rush of breath from her mouth as she cried out a soft “aaaahhhhhhhh”.

And the heat from the unexplored valley between her thighs was pressing needily against his crotch.

His hand slipped from her tit to gather in her hair, scoop up a wealth of the rich tresses, and wind them around his fist. He used the slippery mass to pull her head back, and when she was looking him full in the face, he spat into her open mouth.

Her grimace was immediate, and amusing.


His word was terse, and he watched avidly as she complied, though with a scowl. He pulled her hair further back, her throat vulnerable, and he watched that pulse knocking desperately there for a moment, before his mouth descended, and he began licking her flesh. Once wet, he blew gently across it, raising a welter of goosebumps.

Disarmed, she moaned as his wet mouth came once more to her throat, a moan that deepened into sharp squeals as his teeth bit into her, hard.

The sudden outpouring of the scent of her sex nectar made him smile against her abused flesh.

He released her suddenly, and turned away. His cock throbbed hotly in his boxers, pressing insistently against his trousers’ zipper. As he reached into his valise, he looked over his shoulder at her.  She continued to stand there, head slightly tipped back, mouth open and panting, one tit clamped , the chain swinging with her breathing, and the other bruised from his touch. Her hair was disheveled. Her legs were wider apart, and the trail of want gilded her left thigh with her secret desires.

She stood on trembling legs, breathing ragged, and now,  perfect.

This Must be Real-Life nilla Week

i am not sure why i’ve got sooo many things to say this week. Strangely enough, in my now over-one-year old blog, i have never written 3 true-life posts in a row.

Mostly coz i think my real life is …boring. I know, i’ve said that before and you all go ‘No no, nilla we want more.” So, as the Japanese saying goes…”be careful in what you wish for, as you might get it.”

gawd i love that expression!

i mostly am trying to just deal with a few little “sads” here. D2 has been away, and although He is back, He’s so so busy, too busy for playtime.  It’s been a long stretch for this subtoy#2.   I miss Him.

And then.

I found out earlier this week that a story i’d written will not be published. Boo.

My first try at being published, and i know full well that it’s a business fraught with disappointment. Which is why i never really pursued it before.  But damn, i really wanted it.

C’est La Vie.

That sounds smarmy. i surely don’t mean it that way. Soul baring is hard, even when i have such a supportive audience.

I don’t want to go all teary on y’all.  Coz i really am sad about it.  But i don’t want ya’ll to think…i go around thinking i’m the bestest writer on Earth and why wouldn’t they pick one of my stories, damn them!

I’m glad you like what i write. ‘What i write pleases me. I write just for that purpose, to please me, to release the stuff floating around in me so i don’t pop apart. That has always been my motivation. And when you chime in and say “wow, that’s so good,” or “that made me wank” or somesuch…that DOES make me happy, make me smile.

That my words affected you.

So, i’m just a wee bit pouty. A wee bit miffed. And a bigger bit sad that it didn’t work out for me this time.



(pardon me while i pull up my big girl panties and deal)


There. Life, it does roll on…and i have stories to write before i sleep…

And Then HE Said…

Sir and i are getting together this upcoming weekend. Or to use the vernacular of the youth…’hooking up’.

Excited? check. (Hell YaH!)

Happy? check.

Anticipating? check. (double Hell Yah!)

There’s always this ramping up of sexual texts just before we play. I freely admit that i start it. *shrugs* then again, you’d expect that of me, yes? Of course you would (laughs)!!

And there are the phone calls. Not so many as in the beginning, but more than when he was studying all the fucking time.

Our play is very playful. He is very physically dominant, but when we are apart, not as much, and i am free to joke and tease and cajole as much as i dare. I laugh all the time with him. Maybe his ex-wife didn’t find him funny, but i think he’s hysterical. He does voices, and ..and…well, this isnt’ all that sexual, but we have a friendly kind of relationship outside of the bedroom.

i like that. He makes me happy, and there *are* times when He puts his Dom foot on my neck and says “do it.” Like when i was having a terrible time with insomnia recently. It flares up from time to time and this run has been about a month. Getting 3 hours of sleep is not helpful, not to my diet, not to my brain, not to my energy level.

and then He said, ” You will go to sleep and sleep the entire night through, nilla.” We’d been talking for about an hour, a very long call for us, and this came out near the end. He had made me convulsed with laughter a short time before, and then He just dropped that little sleep bomb.

We signed off shortly thereafter. I sent him a little text, a thank you for the long time He had given to me.

And then He said, in His return text….”Go to SLEEP.”

and i did.

and i’ve slept every night since that call, straight through until morning. Whoa. Who knew a Dom could cure insomnia?

Then an actual text here, something i sent him Saturday. “I’m thinking of  making up my own Wall Dance. I’d call it the Squirm and Wiggle.”

sounds innocuous doesn’t it? but it refers back to a previous phone call when i had said, all innocent-like (shush, it’s my story and i can pretend innocence!) “nilla might be a nauuuughty girl next week, Sir.” I pause a moment, then continue…”i might just come off the Wall…just sayin’, Sir.”

There is silence. Thick, lingering silence.

my heart beats into that silence.

i had thrown the gauntlet right onto my Dom’s foot. Would He ignore it? Or would He pick it up and spank my naughty ass with it?

“I wouldn’t recommend it, but this being you, nilla….” and He trails off. Then he muses something about purples and reds and i’m thinking what the fuck?

“Your ass nilla. I wonder how it will feel when it gets fucked and it’s all purple and red. ”

succinct. Got to give Him that. It’s in the tone, not so much the words He says. The *tone* carries the threat.

His text response btw…even better.

I’d call it the dance of calamitous events.”

 But this post wasn’t going to be about all that, really.

It was about all the salacious things i’ve sent to Him over the last week or 10 days. About sucking His cock, about spankings, about my tits rubbing on his body…

you don’t want to hear all about *that* stuff, do you?

Of course you do.

So okay, i’ve been a tease. I *know* He’s at work in his staid, uppercrust job. The respectable older gent in the custom-made suit, very proper.


and then i text Him.  Something like this:

Kiss. Soft, gentle, dancing over your mouth. My arms wrapped around you, my tits pressing against your chest. My leg hooking up and around your hip as i press close, closer, my pussy weeping down your leg.

then i follow it up with something like this…

“deeper kiss,  slashing across your lips, tongues twining;  biting your lower lip, before diving back into your mouth. i nibble up your throat, then swirl my tongue around your ear, sucking your lobe into my hot wet mouth…”

and then this…

“sliding to my knees to nuzzle you, look up for permission to taste you, drink you, hair swirling around your thighs as i crawl closer, ever closer to what i lust for most…”

Poor Guy. (giggles)

trust me, these are even a bit tamer than i’ve been known to send him.

He’ll either send me something wicked back, or something completely banal.  Like…”good luck with that.”

or He’ll pretend i’m someone else.

“nice one, Barbara. BTW, Babs, do you know how to get slug tracks off a hotel room wall? I have this ass-fuck–slut who won’t leave me alone, and she makes these tracks everywhere she goes…”

yeah. well. um. He wins, again.

And then He said this, just a little bit ago, via text. I’d been teasing him about…well,…just stuff. And He said something silly, and i jumped on it, and zinged Him a text saying…

“Do i need to salute it now?” (use your imagination as to what ‘it’ is….)

His response was immediate, and just as quickly threw me to His feet….

“Of course not – you just submit”

That sums it up rather nicely doesn’t it?

Is it any wonder that i adore Him?

If They Call Your Name…

I was walking last evening. A delightful, cool, almost crisp, late-summer evening in New England. The sky was overcast, and i was striding along, trying to lose the last fucking pound from my vacation chip orgy.

Some kids were sitting on a porch on a house across the street. Their chatter and giggling was something i took note of, then dismissed.

I was proudly wearing my Wes Welker Patriot tee-shirt, still reveling in the opening day win by the home team Pats, against the Bengals (sorry Mick and marci!).

Then i heard my name. My vanilla name, that is. Being called from the kids on the porch 50 yards behind me now. They hollered and waved. I turned and waved back. I’m not exactly certain who they were, but a good guess is kids from where i work. Likely visiting family or friends in my neighborhood, and very delighted that they saw someone they knew in an unexpected place.

As i rounded the corner and headed up a hill which seems to get taller ever year i walk it, it got me to thinking.

What if.

What if someone i passed, or who passed me, hollered  “nilla?!”

If they pieced together enough from my hair, or profile pictures to be able to ask if it could really be me?

Would i involuntarily turn? Acknowledge the name? Could i stop myself?

I just simply do not know. When in D/s mode, i *am* nilla. My Doms call me nilla, my online friends call me nilla…it is who i am, at the core of things.

So i send this out to you all, out there in the anonymity of the internet ether.

If “they” call YOUR name…would YOU answer?

The Picnic Basket part 3

Her ass was welted, hurting so damn good. It throbbed, but not nearly as insistently as her pussy.

Once again, He had left her, walking to where he had left the basket of “dessert” objects. With her forehead pressed to the grassy sod, and her ass in the air, skirt pooled around her waist, she was exposed, vulnerable, and so fucking raw with need.

She couldn’t see what he was taking out, and when the hard wooden paddle took a swoop across her already sore cheek…

“YEEE-OW!” She erupted, and the bastard laughed.

“hmm, yes, I thought that one would get you going, little girl.” And he continued to pummel and tenderize her flesh until she was sure that all that was left were thin strips of flesh hanging from her rump. Tears bled from under her tightly shut eyelids, running up her forehead, and slipping soundlessly into the loam beneath her head.

And yet. Her pussy throbbed. She was so enormously turned on. How wonderful would it be to feel his cock push aside her meager thong strap, and fill her empty hole with his rigid flesh? She wanted him to take, to take to use, to do with her whatever he wanted.

And of course, he was.

He’d promised her new games this time. Being paddled, whipped, and spanked outside was certainly new. She wondered what next.

She didn’t have long to wait.

“I need to pee.”

His statement fell into the grass beside her. She imagined he would be striding off to the verge and pissing on a tree. Instead, she felt his finger probe her asshole.

He wouldn’t.

That was nasty. Awful. Dirty.

Her pussy pulsed in harmony with her rapid heartbeat.

She felt something cool, metallic in her ass. Something big, long, uncomfortable.

“Funnel fits.” His voice was cheery, informative.

She wiggled a bit, trying to adjust to the long cool length of it.  Her voice was muffled.

“That’s too big to be a funnel. Please Sir, please won’t you tell me what you really have in my ass?”

She felt it slick out of her butthole as he pulled it, then lifted her face by a fistful of hair.

It was the biggest fucking funnel she’d ever seen.

Her head thunked back onto the ground, and he quickly reinserted the tube into her ass.

The sound of piss being released, tinging against the bowl of the funnel was almost immediately accompanied by the heat, and sudden uncomfortable fullness of his urine being poured into her ass. He peed for a long while. Obviously, he’d been holding back.

“Ahhh, ” he rubbed her ass with his hand, pulling the funnel from her hole. Just as quickly she felt some thing go inside of her.

A funny fwick fwick fwick accompanied a terrible fullness at her backdoor.

Her belly churned and she felt a bit nauseous.

“You have an ass full of my piss, and a lovely inflatable butt plug to hold it in there awhile, slut. I want your ass all nicely cleaned out for when I fuck it later.”

He stood, arms folded, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He had rolled her over, her cuffed hands under her, hair matted, belly slightly distended. She heard the gurgle of her bowels, and felt the discomfort of needing to relieve herself.

How fucking embarrassing.

Nothing could pass the thick blockage that was painfully uncomfortable in her ass. She needed to get it out. He stood watching her, laying there on the ground, her dress hiked up, pussy gleaming wetly. She must look so fucking dirty. A fucking human toilet.

She shivered again. He was reaching into the picnic basket once more.


He had her kneel at his feet, between his spread legs. She licked her lips. She was already so fucking needy. He’d teased her all day, the dirty words he spoke to her, reminding her of her place, her wanton needs, all serving to slowly stoke her fires.


That and the little rubber bands wrapped around her nipples. It had been 2 hours, and though they hadn’t bothered her much at first, there had been a slow and steady rising of pain. it came on gradually. At first, her swollen nubbins rubbed against her shirt pleasantly, arousing her. Then less pleasurably, more painfully. The pain grew and then waned as she was able to rise to it, breathe with it, distract herself.

At long last she was on her knees and preparing to serve Him. She saw the arousal he had been growing, the large bulge in his jeans a dead give-away that he was getting off on her little moans and whimpers.


Not to mention all the tit-slaps he’d managed to land on her as she’d done her morning chores. Now, with naked body, and naked need shining out of her eyes, she looked up at her Master.

Her body begged, though her mouth stayed silent.

“Spread those slutty thighs, my little whore,”  He ordered her. Awkwardly she shifted her legs, until they were open as far as He wanted. He took a vibe from the table beside him, turning it on low and sliding it, ever so slowly, along the length of her self-lubricated slit. She could not hold back the long, low moan, anymore than she could hold off the moonrise, or sunset. He watched her like a hawk, soaking in her reactions, her quivers, every sign of her submission to his torments, his desires for using her.

He fed off of her.

“Close tightly now, slut, and don’t you dare let that vibe slip.”

He’d placed it most carefully along her slit so that the bulbous head lay tightly against her swollen clitoris. Keeping it on low kept her on simmer.


Keeping it in place meant no bucking of hips, no writhing, no moving. Devious fucker. She was already heated to full, wanton boil.

 “Suck my cock, slut. Suck it good, and drink the sweet gift of my sex juice.”

She loved his cock, but it was so intensely hard to concentrate on her sucking techniques, when the vibe was driving her nuts, tormenting her little sex bud, while her nipples had become centerpoints of pain. Her tits ached. Her cunt was dying for release. She was a fucking mess. Still, there was nothing like Master’s cock. She set to work.


It took him forever to cum. She drained him completely. She was quivering, shaking with need. He lay back in his chair, his cock limp and  breathing hard. He was smiling, but she knew  she had to leave him to recover before cleaning him. She placed her hands behind her back, titties forward, nipples banded painfully tight against her swollen nubbins, and waited as He had taught her.

Her shoulders pulled back, her back arched beautifully, her tits thrust proudly forward, showcasing her captive nipples. The overwhelming pain in her tits flashed so suddenly, so unexpectedly that tears welled, and spilled from her eyes. Still he watched her. She blinked them away, but more rose. She wanted to beg, but had been bidden hours ago to remain silent.


How fucking hard was it to remain silent when she wanted to scream? How fucking hard was it to remain still when she wanted to fuck her hips into orgasm? How fucking hard was it to sit here, being his good girl, when all she wanted was Him?

He listened to her breathe. In..and  out again, in short, terse expulsions. He knew she was close to breaking. He was pleased by how long she had held on. This was by far her longest time of silence. It was always anathema to her. His little magpie struggled with silence even more so than with pain.

“speak, slut”


It took a moment for His words to sink in.  She’d been so quiet for so long. Suddenly they erupted from her, like lava from a volcano.

“pleaseMasterplease. Iwantyoutofuck me, Surrrrr….” Her words ended on a  moan as she paused for breath, panting in her desperation to get it all out, get it all out before He shusshed her again.


” and take of my nipple bands, please Sir?

There it was,  one sentence filled with need. Then she looked up at Him. His eyes, contemplative, looked back at her, placid, calm. She hated how calm He was about hurting her.


“You make take off one band, my little slut.”


What a dilemma. One band??   One giant rush of pain, followed by gradual release to normalcy?  One continuing throb? How could she choose? She looked at him, hoping for a sign that he would intercede. He looked steadily at her.


No hope there. Left side? Right side? Left? Right? Her mental ping-pong game lasted just a few moments, and as he opened his mouth, she blurted her response.

 “Right one, Sir. Please?”

He pinched her left nipple hard, and she moaned with the onset of sudden, intense pain. She should be used to his surprises, but she never was.

“Sure?”     His words were just faintly mocking but she nodded anyway. His other hand came up and pinched her right nipple, then with a flick, he rolled the elastic from the swollen nipple. She moaned, trying to stay still and not flinch away. Yet, as his fingernail grazed her abused bud,  she did, indeed pull away, pulled back.


His eyebrow raised, and the pressure on both nipples increased.


“i am sorry Master, sorry Master.”   His brow remained elevated.

“so so so sooorrry…”   her voice rose up and up as he continued to look down at her, and squeeze. Tears tracked down her cheeks with the chastisement, and she was crooning in the back of her throat. Finally he relaxed his grip.

“Slut, don’t make me reprimand you again.”

“No Sir, i won’t, i swear it.”


The vibe buzzing softly between her cuntlips purred on.