Stuff and stuffed— %)

Why aren’t there emoticons for the titles of blogposts? That’s just wrong, yanno?

Coz i need one that has a big ole shit eatin” grin on it!!

Seriously–i thought i’d have a story for you. i mean, i do…it’s in my head tho.

and i’m beat.


oh, MAN am i beat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and i’m tired too.

Cumming a thousand times will do that to you. Just in case ya wondered.

Sir B (B for Beast, which came unleashed…and whooooooboy whadda ride…) was …

……………………………………………………………………………….*happy sigh*……………moan……………….ouch.

Yeah. it was that good. and frankly, i’m not at all eloquent tonight. This was an unexpected coming together, as we have a date planned for late February…but the opening came up and we carpe’d the fuckin’ diem.

Or more accurately…HE seized da nilla. Bound, and fucked, vibed and spanked, bitten…dear great green goddess that Man can bite.

My shoulders. My back, my ass, my arms…He consumed me.

Now, i have to ask all you subgirls out there…am i truly a slut?


Coz i came when He fucked my ass?

Three positions…three HUGE cums…omg. This was …overthetop.

Over. The. Top. phenominal. i spelled that wrong. fuck me. *giggle*

oh, gods apparently i’m still giddy.

my nipples hurt. He bit the clamps.

Of. Course I SCREAMED.

Through the ball gag.

He laughed.

What a delightful fucker.

So…i really have nothin’ more that that. nilla got royally messed up, royally fucked, royally forced-cummed…

Did i mention He wanted to take my clit home with Him so He wouldn’t be lonely for me?

(who me, walk funny? Geebeezuz that Man bites like a fuckin’ piranha )

So, this is woefully short, because truly, my braincells has all short circuited.

and i keep giggling.

And stopping to look in the mirror at me bee-ooooo-tiful bruises.

i am well and truly owned, boys n gals…and next month it will be official.

He’ll slide His collar ’round my neck…maybe when he’s sliding his cock back in my ass…

coz the Beast is runnin’ free now…

*happy sigh*


Depression/Friends/Life- nilla ramblings

blah blah snow blah blah snow blah blah—–

don’t get me wrong here…i’ll be the first to tell you that i live in New England because i love having 4 seasons. i’ll also tell you that i generally love snow. i’ve never grown out of the ‘snow day’ mentality, tho i rarely go sledding anymore because of my back and ankle issues.

these days i move at a slower pace and prefer to snowshoe.  And this year, i’ve managed to get out twice on my ‘shoes and tromp through puffy clouds of snow. If you’ve never done it before? Tis an incomparable thing. Hella workout, as you don’t “glide” across the tops, actually sink a few inches into the powder, and have to lift the shoes, and plunge forward. It’s a rocking, wide-legged thing, ungainly to watch but tranquil. my shoes are old, old, likely more than 70 years. Old bent-wood framing, gut crosslacings. . . the only ‘modern’ parts are the neoprene bindings that my boots slide into.

Still…i’m tired of snow. Tired of white on black. My heart thirsts for color. It sings when i spy a brilliant male cardinal perched on a deep green pine bough, singing the ‘allsclear’ call to his mate.

January 24th is alleged to be the most depressing day of the year.  i second that one….


it’s friends who helped to lift my spirits during this hell-week–sin, with her ongoing conversations on her blog about happiness, and our private i.m.’s, helping to cheer me up. aisha and her open angsty posts who made me smile with her mini-temper tantrum.  sfp with her interesting life-dancing, and andi and her HNT. and of course–you…for your comments on the stories i write when i am up or down…


and there is Sir B….happy sigh. i could rhapsodize about how good, how very, very good things are there.  i could tell you about the collar in my future. (teaser, yes) i could tell you about the wicked ass-fucking i’ve been promised.

in fact, that might be happening *right now* while you read this…

On Friday, out doing errands, i saw this quote on a bumper sticker on the car in front of me…

“Who wants to live a life imprisoned in safety?”

Do you know who said it? t’was a woman…and i’ll tell you at the end of this soliloquy …anyway…this was the *perfect* way to sum up my life this past month.

i know i’ve told you that Sir B and i have had major changes in our relationship…what i left unsaid was that i came )*( that close to just …stopping it all.

no more blog.

no more blog reading.

withdraw back into vanilla life.

forget the Dom search process (which was overwhelming, scary as hell even with a Mentor…so hats off to those of You who are in search …)

forget it all.


This is a pretty thick and heavy door i’ve cracked open inside of me. It’d be silly for me to not share that sometimes my thoughts and yearnings are frightening. Even when they are stirring me, turning me on…they frighten.

And i wondered…could i?

Could i shut that door?


For an hour.


A ton of that was…angst. Depression. Grief, for i grieved deeply about what happened with Sir B….That vita-mix blender that mixes up these stories does that with my emotions sometimes too, and i’m often overwhelmed without an outlet, which is why i write to begin with.

And you folks factored in. Like sin, i am a ‘pleaser’ and saying ‘no’ is verrah hard for me. How could i let you down, when you came here looking for a new naughty fantasy…and there was nothing?

i’m not so good at going *poof*….

And then that quote, from Amelia Earhart crossed my line-of-sight.  On a day when i was rushing from place-to-place and not paying heed to my surroundings, reaaaaaalllly not being ‘present’ at all…


i *love* my life, even with all the complications. The vanilla parts…and the chocolate parts. The friends i’ve made here. The Man i met here who will gift me with his collar soon. i don’t choose to live in a safe bubble-wrapped life…because i want to feel it. The hurt, as well as the joy.

The hurt helps me appreciate the joy…and the joy?

Joy is that cardinal on the pine-branch.

And Sir B whacking my depression away with the silver cake thingy that i hate-love-hate…

Joy is friendships, in all its forms, and joy is writing, and joy is waking up every morning…

and Joy is you.


(by the way, as i write this…it’s snowing again….*wry grin*)

Transformations (i)

i’ve not forgotten this one …had to go through the dark to renew my ‘lighter’ side…*smiles* . Transformations (h) is  here…just to remind you

Her hair was dry, curling wildly around her face when she woke. It had been wet, trailing beads of moisture down her body when she’d come out of the bathroom, but now, hours later, and dried by a very different form of heat than her blow dryer…well, she imagined it took ‘bed head’ to new heights.

She lay, His arm curled ’round her waist holding her close even in sleep. She couldn’t help the smile that slipped over her face, any more than she could stop the joy blossoming in her heart.

In truth, her caterpillar had broken free of the chrysalis and was drying her new wings.

She had been transformed, the moment she had stood, transfixed, when she emerged from her bathroom to find Him in repose on her bed, holding her towel. Holding her fate, really.

She felt the soft warm wetness between her thighs, her pussy still gently pulsing from his attentions. Cock and hand, teeth and tongue, all had played a part in her multiple eruptions.

His cock was a delight;   nesting currently at the junction of ass and pussy and thighs, she could feel the silky skin grow hard and hot and thick once again. She wiggled, pressing that growing beast against the bottom curve of her ass.

He shifted his hips, sliding his thickening shaft deeper in the hot wet cleft. Was he awake, she wondered, or merely shifting in sleep to find a more comfortable niche for his rising penis?

The hand at her waist crawled upward and supplied that answer. He cupped her tit, hefting the weight of it, then pinching her nipple, gently, at first, then harder, firmer.

Teeth gnawed at her shoulder and she moaned. He’d managed to find the exact spot he’d bitten last night.

Gawd. Last night.

She fell backward in time, remembering. It would be hard to forget, this first time with a lover who was as filling  to her spirit as her body.  There had been some kind of magic in the air, as they had stood, face to face for a moment before he’d laid her on the bed, and traced her body with the lightest of touches.

The memory of those feathery caresses made her shiver even now.  He’d learned every curve of her body, every hollow. He’d probed, tasted, touched every inch of skin, sucking her big toe as avidly as he’d twirled his tongue in her belly button.

That had made her giggle like a school-girl.

He’d lapped at her breasts, sucked her nipples, all done with a gentle tenderness. Then He’d blown across her wetted skin, raising goose-flesh all along the round globes of her tits, which he attacked with his teeth.

He was playfully ferocious at first, growling and nipping along her tits, into her armpits, but play became infused with lust, with ardor, and with a deep, nearly savage groan, he’d sunk his teeth into her shoulder, biting hard, and deeply as his cock had found her swollen lower lips, wet with her need. His cock parted her, entered her, and they had attacked each other with a ferocity she’d not known herself capable of.

He’d fucked her through several orgasms, despite her gasping pleas to wait, so sensitive, please please please…He smiled down at her, fucking deeply, slowly into her belly. She was filled with Him, surrounded by Him.

And then He pulled away, and told her to turn on her belly. His cock gleamed in the soft lighting from her dresser lamp, wet with her sex juice. The thick shaft was at full attention, and she moaned and licked her lips.

He denied her.

“if I tell you again to roll over, little one…” His voice trailed off.

She rolled. His hands circled her round fanny, then kneaded the full globes. From kneading, to slapping, from slapping to hitting, from hitting to nipping, from nipping to biting.





Gasping, moaning. Was there anything as painfully humbling as having a Man bite the tender flesh of ones bottom? she wondered.  She knew there would be deep marks there come morning.

She could hardly wait.

His stiff cock probed along her leg as His teeth worked over her ass.  He licked up her spine, then reaching under her hips, pulled her up, instructing her to bend her knees under her, head pressed into the mattress.

Subbie, supplicant position, He called it.

She called it embarrassing…yet it turned her on immensely to be so exposed.

Vulnerable. Open. Available for use.

He began weaving threads of submission into their sex play. Two fingers in her pussy. His thumb in her ass. His left hand slapping between her thighs, bidding her to spread more, open more to Him.

Her breathing became more ragged, raw. Her need flared suddenly. She needed pain. She needed submission. She craved Him.

He didn’t disappoint. The fingers left her pussy, entered her ass. The bed shifted as he moved up behind her, began fucking her pussy from behind, driving himself ever deeper into her tummy.

Fingers from each hand slid into her ass, and her mouth was open making soft grunting noises as cock and fingers worked her bottom holes. He stretched her tenderest, tightest hole, persistently, gently preparing her.

It had been a long, very long, time since she’d been ass-fucked, and her heart raced. This was her ultimate surrender.

“Yes, little one?” His voice, always mesmerizing, sent a shiver straight through her body to her clitoris, and she moaned.

“Is that a yes?” He asked again.  He understood her reticence, though how, she had no idea. He was just that good … a man, a Dom…knowing that if she said yes it was to more than just a vigorous ass fucking.

She nodded.

“Tell me.”

“yesssss, gods above, yessss, please fuck my ass ….Master..”

He took her ass completely, the pain expected, exciting, and eventually, fading away to full-blown, raw lust.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease” she begged.

He fucked harder, deeper, then she had ever before been taken, and she came, and came again, before He shouted his own impending explosion. She couldn’t’ feel His release, as her cunt clamped down, hard, and sent her brain into a tailspin as yet another orgasm poured from her body.

They had collapsed together, entwined, and fallen asleep.

The crepuscular rays of the dawning sun began to transform night into day, illuminating the bare tops of the trees in her front yard, painting them with a patina of gold. That gold spilled into her room, dashing off the edges of the window, one post of her headboard, and her ‘Starry Night’ reproduction print on the far wall.

She could see his hand against her breast, feel the heat of his touch, the responding heat in her tit, the fullness of her nipple against his palm.

It was going to be a beautiful new day.


quite long. extremely naughty.  for sin just coz she asked!  ….~n~

She wasn’t sure which she hated more…the sound of the heavy steel doors clanging shut behind her, or the smell. The long corridor led down into the bowels of the state penitentiary, the concrete floor and walls echoing back the sound of her heels. The guard escorting her to the Warden’s office was silent, his footfalls quiet but for a subtle squeak from his left boot.

Why the Warden needed to meet with the ADA this late in the evening, and a Friday to boot, was a mystery, and no small annoyance. She gave her all to her job but it had been a particularly grueling week and all she wanted was a nice Italian dinner with Wayne, a glass or two of Chianti, and a nice leisurely fuck.

She’d picked up the phone on the fourth ring; her hand had been on the knob of her office door.  She could read the lettering on the glass panel as she looked longingly at it, even as she picked up the phone.

“Assistant District Attorney McGrath” she huffed into the phone, controlling her urge to scream. Seriously, would this week not end??

“ADA McGrath, Warden Bines here, up at county.”

She controlled the heavy urge to sigh now. Bines was an old fuddy duddy, slow-talking, slow-moving warden. Getting him to the point would take longer than driving to Il Forten, selecting an appetizer, and eating it.


“Yes Warden, what can the DA’s office do for you?”

“Well, I’m not really at liberty to say over the phone, ADA McGrath. I really need you to come here. ”

Now she did sigh. “Warden, are you aware that it’s 730 p.m. and the DA is gone for the weekend?”

“Don’t need the DA, you’ll do fine, Miss.”

“Can’t you just …” she paused, drew deep from inside her patience well. This was so going to cost Alex! Come Monday, he damn well would head-pat her for this! “Fine, Warden, I’ll be there in 20 minutes or so.”

“You’ll be met.” And the humm of the phone rang in her ear.

Well, fuck. So much for dinner. So much for wine. So much for the fuck. She left her office, closing her door softly, deliberately softly.


Now here she was, clacking down the dingy, depressing hallway to meet with the warden about who the fuck knew. She tried not to think about Italian food. Tried not to think about Wayne, likely keeping the reservations and having his other sometimes date Linda meet him; and tried not to think of that dumb fuck of a ho eating her steak dinner. And then eating Wayne.

“Focus, Argi,” she urged herself. Argentina McGrath was second to no one. Not in court, and not in the bedroom. So fuck Linda-ho. Matter of fact, fuck Wayne, too! She could do so much better than a PI who flunked out of cop school twice.

While it seemed like hours, in a very short span of time, she was escorted into Warden Bumfucks office. She needed to stop thinking of him by that name, else she’d fuck up and actually call him that sometime. After all, they were on the same side of the law.

“Warden.” She graciously extended her hand, leaning across his desk.

“Argentina. I may call you that, right?” He was tall, not too big, not to skinny. Well proportioned. A man of late middle years, his thatch of thick white hair was neatly combed to the side. He looked a bit like Tommy Jones, that actor from that alien invasion movie with Will…whatever his name was… His smile was genial, as was his manner, but somehow, he always made her nervous.

“I’ll get straight to the point.”

Oh never that she thought, stuffing down her smarty ass remark, and smiling in what she hoped passed for encouragement.

“By the way, can I get you a glass of water? No? A cup of tea perhaps?”

She shook her head again. She’d known it was too much to ask for Warden Bines to really get to the fucking point.

He looked at her, leaning back in his chair, fingers templed. He turned to the omnipresent guard.

“Chuck, take ADA McGrath’s coat!” She tried to wave the enthusiastic Chuck off, but nothing would do but to disgorge herself from the folds of it, and pass it to him. She sighed, aloud.

“Warden, perhaps if we can get to the issue at hand? I’m afraid I have delayed some personal plans….” her voice trailed off.

“I am ever so sorry about that, Argentina. But this is a situation that …well, only you can handle.” Once more he looked at her over his cradled fingers.

“You see, I really need you.”

She wondered if he was attempting some lame-assed flattery. Oh holy FUCK she thought, get to the point!!!

Seriously, she really wanted to scream. Well, that, and beat the fucking words out of Warden Bumfuck with her Gucchi bag. Even if it was a knock-off!

He continued to look at her, and then a slow smile crossed his face.

“Well, Argentina, if I can’t interest you in a refreshment” and here he paused, raising a brow in one last inquiry, snapping out a fast smile at her terse headshake ‘no’, “let’s get down to brass tacks.”

At last. She wondered what his reaction would be if she got up and did a cheer. Her expression never wavered as she mentally bounced  up from her chair, waving imaginary pompoms, singing out ‘gimme a B…”

“I’ve had an inmate finally turn over on one of his former …associates. Now, we’ve offered to reduce his sentence, which he’s talked about agreeing to. But there is one last key name that we need from him, and he’s holding out for one last thing from us.”

“Well, Warden, I’m not sure I can assist with that form of dealmaking….” her voice trailed off.

He nodded to the guard, who turned and left the room. Must be something big to let your personal guard go, she thought. Her interest was piqued.

“As a matter of fact there is only one thing Carlo wants.”

“Carlo? Carlo Vesputin…”

Warden Bumfuck nodded sagely. “I see you remember.”

“Hard to forget the first person who threatens to kill you,” she replied drolly.

The door opened behind them but she didn’t turn to look. She saw the flash of uniform in her peripheral vision, and knew the guard was back.

“Well, he’s changed in the 4 years he’s been a guest of the state,” said the warden, “and now he’s ready to ante up the rest of the group responsible for that armed robbery at First Union Bank.”

“hmmmm” she responded, cautiously. “So, what does he want.”


The voice came from behind her. It was still resonant, thick now with lust. She whirled in her chair, her fingers gripping the arm of it hard enough to whiten her knuckles.

He’d not changed much physically. Tougher, harder, leaner, perhaps. Still that dangerous sexuality oozing from him. His eyes were intense, burning into hers.

“I want You.”

She turned back to the warden.

“What the hell is this about, Warden?” she snapped, using her best no-nonsense court voice.

“Well, little one, the guy hasn’t had sex in over 4 years, purty  close to 5 if you count time served leading up to his court appearance and trial. He wants to fuck you. If I make it happen, he spills the rest of what he knows, and I get the coup. It’ll help my campaign immensely.”

It was no secret that the Warden had big political plans, hoping to jump into the Mayors Office next November.

“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “No fucking way.”

“Now, that’s no way for a little lady to speak is it?”

She didn’t like the look on the wardens face.

“This is…preposterous. NO. I refuse.” She all but leapt from her chair. She crossed to the coat holder, missing the look between warden and guard. She lifted her hand for her coat, only to suddenly find it cuffed.

“NO!” she screamed, her heart beginning to race as she realized that Warden Bumfuck wasn’t giving her an option here. She tried to fight, but there were three of them.

It wasn’t long before her clothing lay in tatters on the floor, and she was bent over the wardens desk.

The wardens face, red with exertion and excitement came close to hers.

“You can yell, scream whatever. No one will hear you except the two guards outside my door, who, by the way, are waiting for their turn.”

He stood, and pulled his thick leather belt from his beltloops.

“Nasty naughty girls must learn a lesson before pleasures of the flesh,” he said, his tone sonorous.

She heard him come behind her, felt his thick hand caressing her ass before the first blow fell hard upon it. She yelped, then determined she would not give him the fucking satisfaction.

By the 20th blow, she was sobbing, begging for him to stop. She couldn’t hear the whistle of the belt as it cut the air over her ragged cries.

It had barely sunk in that he was done when she felt a cock pressing against her pussyhole.

“noooooo” she moaned, sobbing in earnest.

He sank deeply inside her.

“Say what you will, ADA Argentina McGrath, your little cunthole is well and truly lubricated. I wonder how many times you came during the Wardens ‘warm up’ exercise.” He tutted insincerely at her. “Such a naughty little slut hiding inside the proper little ADA.”

His legs pressed against her burning ass, his cock filling her, stretching her. Her belly was full of him, full of cockmeat.

“Feel that, little cunthole? Feel how perfectly my cock fills you? You are loving this aren’t you, my little prison slut.”

He fucked her slowly. Steadily. His fingers smoothed coolly over her burning ass cheeks, occasionally slipping under her to rub at her clit.

He laughed when she came the first time.

“Greedy little cunt.”

He pressed harder, deeper, his balls now slapping rhythmically against her clit, exciting her body, shutting down her brain as she felt the primal urge to fuck.

When at last he came, he was buried deep inside her.

“Name the baby Carlo, eh, chicka?” He whispered in her ear. She felt him wipe his cock on her thigh, the sound of feet receding, of others coming closer.

“I promised him first fuck, but mine now, whore. Gonna make you our little prison whore tonight. Made plans did you? Well, plans change. And I took the liberty of checking your phone, calling your boyfriend. Told him you’d be here most of the night working.  No loose ends to worry about. By morning, you’ll be done here. You’ll walk funny for a while, but you’ll be a better ADA for this.”

His very pomposity was so fucking annoying. He leaned against her ass, holding her hips.

“And when I’m mayor? I’m certain I’ll require many closed-door meetings with our special ADA adjunct. You’ll be my own special envoy between the DA and Mayor’s office. A nice bump in pay, and a nice bump in your ass.”

His cock pressed against her asshole, then pressed harder. She fought the intrusion. Squeezed her anus tight, tight.

It only hurt more when he finally burst through. She screamed, once, loudly. The resulting audience cheered, clapping. She lay, defeated as the warden pumped her ass. His dick was long, not too thick, but hard as a fucking rock.

It took forever for him to cum. It took less time for the next guard to come up and fill the hole he’d stretched to gaping. Warden Bumfuck, and wasn’t that an appropriate name now she thought in that floaty place she’d withdrawn to, came around to where her face hung over his desk.

He picked her head up by her hair.

“You bite my prick and I’ll empty every cell in A block to let them fuck you. Got it?”

She nodded, hazy. His cock, went from asshole into her mouth. She wanted to puke. She wanted to scream. She sucked him clean, fearful that he would indeed open the entire cell block.

It became a steady path, from ass or cunt to her mouth. Some came in her mouth, and at some point she realized she was servicing new guys, guards and prisoners alike.


She woke in her car at daybreak. She was wearing a white men’s shirt. Her heels, coat and purse were beside her on the passenger seat. She felt sticky under her ass, and sore.  Her jaw ached. Her pussy throbbed unpleasantly.

She thought of all the sperm floating around inside of her and wanted to vomit. With shaking hands, she found her keys, and after two attempts to put it into the ignition, she started her car and drove home.


She paced back and forth through the kitchen burping the baby, half watching a quiz show on the television.  She wiped spit up on the diaper that hung perpetually from her shoulder these days, and carefully placed her son into the day-crib she kept in here. She rubbed her hand over his dark curly hair as his fist pulled up to his rosebud mouth.

Turning back to the television, she saw the crawler across the bottom of the screen…”Projected Mayoral win to  Warden Jackson Bines….”

Her nightmare hadn’t ended on that morning10 months ago when she woke in her car outside the state jail.  It seemed it was only just beginning….

Goin’ Commando

here’s one for all you  hard-working “corporate” gals…~n~

They’d been texting regularly since she had been ‘found’ by him on the D/s website.

He was a Dom, and not far from her local area, but she’d just ended one not-so-great-relationship. Despite the physical cravings, she wasn’t eager to jump at the first tug on the line, so to speak.

He was nice about that, actually. She figured, for this time, she would be completely open. Ballsy. Lay it out there for the world to see and fuck ’em if they didn’t like it. Then they could not answer her posting, right?


Yet, here she was, 18 days into the new search and she was wrapped up in conversations with Mystery Man.  He was charming. Funny. When He was bullshitting her, she called him on it…and he laughed. A text laugh but if she didn’t know better, he was drawing her out by using a very crafty, witty style.

And dammit, the things he wrote her sent her into a frenzy of masturbations.

Like the text she got at work just before her lunch break. She peered at it when her office was empty, which said:

I am thinking about sucking your clitoris for 10 minutes straight. Wonder how many times I can make you cum? If I stuck my finger up your ass would you squirt?”

Well my gawd, she thought, amused, and a bit embarrassed. And she had to admit that her pussy had given a curious lurch. This sort of thing shouldn’t turn her on.

But it did.

On the way home, he called her. They chatted about her day, His. The unusually cold weather. They talked of music (she liked bluegrass, he was a fan of jazz), of crazy drivers, and the chances of snow for the weekend forecast.

Just before He hung up, he made a soft sucking noise.

“What?” she said with a small laugh, not quite getting it.

“The sound of me sucking your clit. By subgirl.” and He ended the call.

She blushed. All alone in her car as she pulled into her driveway, he had suffused her with embarrassment…and a healthy dose of lust.


She wondered about Him. Tried not to wonder about Him.

Failed again.


The weeks rolled past, and they continued to text, with an occasional short phone chat. She was feeling better about perhaps setting up a time to actually meet Him.  But this week there would be no time to think of that. She had meetings with the Area Manager, the Regional Manager, and the District Supervisor. Major changes at work were brewing, and if she played her cards right she’d be up for a nice promotion. And she was ready now. Stable, successful, able to continue to move her company forward. She was an asset to the company, and people were noticing.

She was about to leave for work when her phone chimed a new text.

She debated for all of 3 seconds before she decided to look. Okay, she could no more stop herself from looking than she could stop a runaway train.  There were just three words:

“No panties today.”

Her jaw dropped. He had begun giving her little tasks, gently easing into a more Dominant role with her but still. Her skirt was below knee-length, but still…. she took a deep breath.

Well, she’d be late if she tried to do this now, so she’d just have to do it at work. Or maybe at the coffee stop. Or tomorrow. No, she couldn’t back down from the challenge.

And this was a challenge.

She would meet it, and begin to submit, or she would refuse, and the games would be over.

She never did stop for coffee on the drive, thinking of all the things she needed to do before the Management team arrived. She went straight to the ladies room before she went to her office, and carefully removed her panties, glad she’d worn thigh highs today. She didn’t often but her last pair of hose had torn and she’d not had time to replace them. She’d reached into an empty box this morning, and sighing, had turned to plan B, the thigh highs she only like to wear in warmer weather.

Serendipitous? Hell ya.

She stuffed her panties into her coat pocket, and slipped into her office. She hung her coat behind her door, and felt that little tingle when her phone, now muted, lit up. One last text before her day began, she mused.

“Naughty, commando slut!”

How the hell he’d known she would….She sent a fast response.

“*blushing* yes Sir, i am bare under there. commando.”

His return text was speedy.

“think of Me when the cool air brushes your pussy”

She shivered. Anticipation. Lust. Need. They boiled just under her skin. The new relationship had built to this point, then. She knew when He asked to meet, she would say “yes, Sir.”


The day was filled with meetings. Meetings upon meetings. Meetings about meetings.

At the end of the day she slumped in her office, alone at last. The promotion was almost in the bag, as it were. She was bone-weary. Her ears rang. Her head throbbed softly. She just wanted a few aspirin, and a brief nap and ….

There was a short rap on her door. His head popped around it.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” She wondered how she could muster the energy for any more chatter, so she slapped on a smile, tilting her head in an oblique bid for more from him. As District Supervisor, she’d had little interaction with Dan, but he seemed like a nice, enthusiastic guy.

She was a bit tired for enthusiasm just now.

“I have news. Let’s get your coat on and walk a bit outside, clear the muzzies out of your head. You look beat, frankly! That crowd could certainly be a cure for insomnia!”

She giggled. He reached for her coat.

She froze.

OMG! Her panties were in her coat pocket…what if they fell out when no. she would NOT think that. No. They were jammed deeply in her pocket.

He assisted her into the coat, adjusting the collar, running his hands over her shoulder, dusting off a speck of dust.

He leaned against her briefly as he flicked another small lint speck from her upper sleeve.

“Great coat. Looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, hoping her blush didn’t show. She wondered if she could get her gloves out of her pocket without  pulling out her panties. The thought suffused her face with color. She felt it, and, embarrassed, blushed harder. Gawd.

“Are your panties in the left or right pocket, I wonder?”

She gasped, and half turned to Him.

He winked and took her arm.

“Let us walk, and enjoy that clean, cold air, shall we? We have much to discuss….”

She doubted she’d feel much of that clean cold air, even on her exposed, commando-bared bits.

She was suddenly quite warm!

Mechanic, assessment

They peered into the open maw of the car.

The mechanic pointed to parts explaining to them what had gone wrong with the old clunker this time. Wiping his hands on a rag that hung from his dark-colored uniform, he stood, looking grim.

“yup, that’s all gonna run you close to 8, mebbe 900 bucks.”

“Gawd” said Angela looking up at Jim. “How the hell are we going to do that?”

She was a pleasingly plump 3o-something, Mike the Mechanic guessed, but her tits were fabulous. Only big girls had knockers like that. He imagined pressing them together and shoving his cock through that springy tunnel. Her long hair curled teasingly around those thrusting tits,  and fell more than halfway down her back.

He had a thing for long-haired chicks. And with big bazoomba’s? Double knock out.

He turned a deaf ear to their low-voiced argument. Happened all the time. Car needed work, work got postponed, then blammo, a thousand buck repair needed. Dumb fucks always thought mechanics worked for nothing. Forget all the fucking equipment a guy had to carry to handle repairs on all the “newest” computer shit cars today came loaded with.

Not this shitbox, to be sure, but still…parts were NOT cheap.

“Car’s undriveable” he added, throwing a log on the fire blazing between the couple. The dude seemed to be pressing the chick for the cash.

Mebbe time for a creative alternative here.

“So, lemme guess. You all are hard up for the dough. Tell you what.  You cover parts for this sh–showpiece of mechanical wonder, and I’ll make you a swap on the labor.”

“How much are the parts?” the dude asked.

“Hmmm, new carb will run you around $25o or so; with the other parts…I’d guess around $500.”

“Labor is over $400?” the chick asked, her tone incredulous.

“Lady, you’d not believe all the pulling apart, then rebuilding that happens with an old piece of…classic like this.”

She nodded, brows crinkled, frowning. She sure was cute like that.

“So, my deal. Interested?” He turned his full attention to the dude.

“Save 400 plus? You bet I’m fucking interested.”

He swallowed an inward sigh. Dudes like this threw around the f-word to try to act tough. This guy was a sissy. Soft. And ripe for the picking.

“You give me your girl for the weekend. Starting now.”

Her eyes widened in shock. His gleamed in speculation.

“Can I watch?” he asked. She slapped him. The mechanic sauntered over to her, grabbing her forearm and pulling her around to face him.

“The first time, yeah. Since it’s gonna be now”.


He leaned against her as he steered her back towards the car. “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll enjoy it.”

He put her hands on the top of the grille. “Hold the fuck on” He ordered tersely.

She pulled away, shaking her head. He threw a look at the dude. He was glassy-eyed with anticipation. “hold her here.” He stayed, keeping his grip on her arm until dude walked over and took her by her other arm. She whimpered but stopped fighting for the moment. He tuned out her low voiced pleading.

He went to the shiny red cabinet, unlocked the next-to-bottom drawer.  He pulled out a ball gag and some chain. He returned to the couple. When she saw the chain, the gag, she tried once more to pull away.

The mechanic took a pair of jumper cables and a fistful of her hair. He shook her by it. He clamped one end to her tit through her sweater, then the other. The bite would be significant but not too bad, not through her shirt and bra. The other end went on the battery’s red cable end.

“You fucking fight me too much, and I’ll attach the black end to the battery,” he said, his hand poised just over the post, “which will give you one fucking 12 volt jolt right through those gorgeous titties.” He shook her head again, hard. “Got it, slut?”

Her eyes were wide with fear and pain. She reluctantly placed her hands where he showed her, crying as he wrapped a heavy chain around her wrists, and through and around the body of the car. If she tried to pull away, the chain would snag on something. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might explode out of her chest.

He lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties and before she could yell, slid the ball gag into her mouth, fastening it with a hard, tight pull. She felt her teeth bite into the slick rubber ball. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening. It was too surreal.  Yet, his greasy hands smoothed over her ass, pinching and slapping the generous mounds.  And her cunt was suddenly full of cock. He was in her smoothly, swiftly, pumping in and out. Not too hard, but very deep. His hands grabbed her hips, pulling her back into him.

“Fucking wet cunt here, lil slut. Seems you’re enjoyin’ this too…” She tried to not notice. Tried to tune him out. But her cunt was dripping. She’d never been so utterly used before.

There was a spattering sound behind him, and he looked over his shoulder at the dude, cock in hand, spilling gleaming drops of cum onto the garage floor.

“You better fucking clean that shit up” he barked at dude.

He watched as the dude looked around, but he pointed to the ground. “Eat that fucking shit up…” Dude looked like he would protest, but he sank to one knee, then the other, and bent to the task assigned, his tongue scraping across the dirty floor, licking up his cum.

Two fucking submissives. How did a guy get that lucky, he mused.

He continued to pump into the sluts hole, feeling her pussy lips grow wetter, plumper. They cradled his cock tightly as he withdrew, and plunged inside. He felt her begin to push back as he withdrew, tacitly asking for the thick hardness to return, to fill her.

He was happy to oblige.

He fucked her for a long time. His nooner wank had drained his tank a bit, and he enjoyed every second as he did the nasty with this hot fuck. Watching dude-boy lapping up his own spill made his cock throb harder, and he ramped up the plunging strokes into the girl. He reached up, under her shirt, squeezing her titties hard, but careful to not knock off the cable clamps.

She came in a torrent, soaking his shaft, his pants, and spattering every bit as hard as dude had, onto the floor.

“Uh-oh, another mess for you to clean up, man,” he coached dude, pointing to the wet puddle. It was fucking thrilling to watch the slick jerk crawl under his bent-over girl, and lick her spillage from the floor between the mechanics feet, as he continued to pump in and out of her.

He came at long last, after the newborn slut came twice more, and he pulled out, letting the fluids drip from her messy cunt to the floor. Dude was getting his protein today, he mused.

He unclamped the chick’s tits, and pulled her to her knees, beside dude.

“Clean it up, then put it away,” he told her brusquely. She responded as dude had, automatically obeying him now.

This was gonna be one weekend for the record books, he mused, as her tongue pulled the last drops from his cock, and her hands carefully tucked him back into his boxers, and zipped his pants.

One fuckin’ fine weekend indeed.



They had chatted online for months.  He’d popped up on the site where she had been browsing for Dom’s.

She smiled, thinking about that.

“Browsing for Doms”, she thought, “kinda like window shopping for shoes, or the perfect LBD.”

Although, she thought, finding a  little black dress was actually a closer metaphor. Shoes were easy. Finding a new Dom, or  the perfect LBD was completely, excruciatingly  hard– you had to find one that fit just right. The one that showed your assets to full advantage, the one that made you want to be at your best.

They’d never yet voiced, and she had not seen him.  He was balancing a vanilla life with work, and finding time to im and email was hard enough, He said. He wished she could cam, was surprised that her old Compaq didn’t even have one! She never had been very techno anyway, she explained.

He was a bit annoyed, but He said he understood.

He set her to tasks that were sometimes boring, sometimes erotic, and sometimes painfully difficult.  Then this week, He’d sent her the name of a photographer.

“He takes great erotica, and you have that collection of sexy lingerie you told me about. I want to see them…I want to see You in them. Call him and set up an appointment. I know he will come to your house, or you can set up a studio shot, that’s your call, little one.”

She’d put it off.

She loved her sexy clothes, had only worn them for her own enjoyment, putting them on and posing in front of the cheval mirror in her bedroom.  She loved her “hawt couture” as she called her little collection of scintillating sex-wear.

He reminded her again that night in her evening email, to call the photographer.

If He needed to remind her a third time, He’d be annoyed…and likely it would land her in the punishment zone.  She really didn’t want to go there. She loved her orgasms far too much to give them “away” to Him for disobeying.


She swallowed apprehensively when the doorbell rang.  He was here, and she had thought she was ready. Her heart thumped wildly as she opened the door.

The photographer pushed past her, several boxes in his arms.

“Take this and do not drop it.” His tone was brusque.

“y-yes, of course,” she answered, hurrying to scoop up the valise under his arm, which he indicated by turning and thrusting it towards her.

He walked around the house, and she found herself a bit nonplussed by his attitude. He stopped in her living room. The sun shone through at an oblique angle, giving the room a golden glow.

“Yes, here.” He placed his boxes onto the floor and began opening them.  A perplexing amount of equipment began to emerge from his cases.

“Bring it.” He reached out his hand, impatiently gesturing her forward. “Go get your things.” She turned and went upstairs. Standing in her bedroom she shook herself. What? What was that?

She didn’t just ….obey…….yet, apparently she did. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Sir had suggested this particular photographer, so perhaps…well, she had to trust that he knew what he was doing.

She brought the basket of her lingerie downstairs to a transformed room. Silver screens caught and focused the light, her coffee table had been dragooned into service and covered with a silvery cloth.  A box filled with mysterious items was in the corner, though she thought one looked rather like a feather duster. Perhaps he used it to clean the light reflectors, or those big lights now set up around the room.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” He looked up at her from where he knelt, taking some sort of measurements.

“I…i’ll just go and..”

“no no no, silly girl, just strip and do it here.” He went back to his light meter.

She felt the hot rush of embarrassment. She picked up the first outfit. She was in the living room fergoshsakes! What if someone walked down the street? They could possibly…

“I’m not going to take all day waiting for you.” His voice, deep and admonishing, was right behind her. She jolted.

“B-but i-i’m in the…”

“Naked. Now.” He crossed his arms and stared her down. She swallowed, looked up at him, then back down. Swiftly she pulled her tee shirt up and over her torso, over her hair, tangling briefly in her ponytail. She stood, almost defiantly for a moment, looking up at him. Her nipples were poking out the front of her black lace bra.

He raised a brow, twirled his finger insultingly as if to say ‘get on with it.’ He didn’t seem at all impressed with her fit of pique.

She slid down her jeans, taking the panties with them, simultaneously grabbing the first ‘slutdress’ and pulling it over her.

She stood, almost breathless, like she had run a long distance in a short span of time. He walked around her, making minute adjustments. A tug here, the tip of his finger tidying a line of lace there. His fingers tugged at her ponytail, pulling her head back for a moment with his fist wrapped around it, then tugging away her scrunchy. Her hair cascaded around her face and shoulders.

He came back to the front, fluffing her hair, pinching her cheeks.

He nodded, gestured her to the cloth-covered table.

“Up there, on your side. Top leg slightly up.” he paused while she complied. “Good.”

He came over, and pushed her tit up so it spilled forward, almost out of the cup of the dress. She didn’t dare protest. Likely he “handled” models this way all the time. Still, the heat from his hand against her breast lingered.  She felt…embarrassingly enough, aroused.

He took a few shots, moving around her to change the angle. Back and forth, adjusting her hair, her leg. He stood behind her, and pulled the skirt up, exposing her ass. She turned her head, aghast.

“What?!” she began outraged.

“Perfect!” and he snapped a series in rapid succession. “now, slut, look self-aware. You know you have a great ass there, show HIM you know it, too. Confidence is very sexy.”

She considered that. The shots were once again rapid-fire.


She went through two more outfits, and was surprised how tiring all this modeling crap was.  She was sitting, corset on, fishnets, garters, and tits poised precariously on the edge of the shelf  bra that completed the outfit. The sizzle of sex was definitely in the air, despite the baby blue tones of the corset.


Lean forward


Knees together, ankles splayed apart

His orders were rapped out tersely, every move she made followed by the quick sound of his shutter.

He pinched her  nipples, hard, making her jolt and protest.

He looked at her.

“Correct me if I’m mistaken…these pictures are for your Dom?”

She nodded, arms crossed over her pointed, peaked nipples.

He looked at her steadily until she looked away, unable to bear the weight of that stare. Gawd.

“Okay,” she murmured, “i get it. Sexy for the Man…”

“Lay down.” She complied. Her belly pressed into the hard wood of her hope chest, which he had found in her dining room, and dragged in here.   Then she was arched back,  weight on her forearms, tits pushed together, hair tumbled around her face and chest. The picture, when finished would only clearly reveal her eyes, looking upwards, and her cleavage, and the hazed out background of one ankle insouciantly raised behind her.


She sighed, but did indeed stay. She watched him switch lenses for the 50th time, or so it seemed, then he crossed behind her, out of sight.

She heard and felt the swat on her bottom simultaneously.

“OW!” she jumped.

“I said Stay. I meant stay, little girl.” He swatted her bottom again, even harder. She heard him leave the room, his soft footfalls soon followed by the sound of doors opening and closing in her kitchen.

“now what the hell is he doing?” she wondered, muttering under her breath. She wanted to rub her bottom where he’d hit her.  More, she wanted to rub her pussy. She was feeling more than a little horny. Her clit was hard and protuberant. But …he’d said ‘stay’ in that demanding way, and she felt compelled to obey. She heard him return.

And screeched when a hard series of whacks landed against her upturned ass.

“OH MY GAWD!” she moaned, “What is that…why are you..”

“Look little girl, your Dom is going to love seeing pictures of you with a gloriously red ass. Spatula’s are for more than flipping pancakes, you know.” And he slapped it against her increasingly sore ass several more times.

And then tapped between the backs of her thighs. She spread them.

And spread them when he tapped again.

And spread them until her toes touched the floor, pussy agape and exposed. She heard the click-whirrrrrr-clicck of his camera, and flushed deeply. He was taking pictures of her pussy.

She felt his fingers prodding her, and gasped.

“You really are a little slut for Him, aren’t you, little one? Your cunt is dripping, swollen, and hot.”

She felt him shift and felt herself blushing. His fingers prodded between the cheeks of her ass, spreading her there, yet even as she opened her lips to protest, she heard the click-whirrrrr of his omnipresent camera.

Dear gawd. He’d taken a picture of her asshole.

The blush was instant and highly visible in the light washed room.

He came around the front of her, and snapped several shots quickly, then grabbed a hank of hair and pulled her upright.

“You are such a little slut, aren’t you? Sir’s little whore.”

She stared up at him, her eyes clashing with his. She was morbidly embarrassed, wanting nothing more than a giant sinkhole to open up and swallow her deep.

Gawd. Why was she thinking things like “swallow” and “deep”? Her pussy clenched, and she felt the squish of liquid slipping from her folds.

He smiled knowingly down at her.

“Your pussy is soaked now, isn’t it? Showing me your slutty clothing, posing so lewdly for your Dom has you so fucking turned on, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t want to answer. She knew she didn’t need to, her body answered for her. She saw his eyes looking at her pointed, begging nipples.

She dropped her eyes when he smiled.

She whispered “yes, i am very turned on by this. Are…are you going to …to tell Him?”

He turned away. “Put on that last outfit,” he ordered, ignoring her question.

She sighed, knowing she could take that as a ‘yes’.

She presented herself to him in her last, and favorite outfit, her black lace halter dress. The demi bra underneath lifted her breasts, dramatizing her cleavage, hiding her somewhat rounded tummy. It was her best outfit, hands down. She slipped into the black heels, and felt better being a bit taller.


She sighed. Back to the one word terseness. She felt so much like a thing when he did this.


She pulled her shoulders back, her wrists behind her, thumbs and forefinger tips touching at the small of her back. She heard the metallic chink and gasped as the cold metal latched over and around one wrist, then the other.

“Wait!” she protested.



“He wants bondage shots. Has a feeling that you will be very wet with this powerless feeling. I wonder if He is right.”

She gasped again as the probing fingers slipped up under her skirt, skirted under her ass, and slipped into the wetness at the juncture of her thighs.

She could no more stop the soft moan than she could the tides.

His thick finger sawed gently through her wetness, and though she wanted to remain still, she felt her ass, her hips thrust back against that probing hand.

“Such a little slut, such a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t speak, the unbearable feeling coming closer, closer.

“You need to cum, don’t you? He was right about you, you know. He told me you would come apart in my hands…”

His free hand snaked around the front of her body, catching and squeezing her left tit hard, slipping forward to find the hard nubbin at the tip, and pulling and rolling it between two cruel fingers.

The dual sensations, incredible pleasure between her thighs, and terrible pain on her tit sent her over the edge, and she shuddered and moaned out her orgasm, flooding his lower hand with her sex juice.

“Next time, little one, you must ask your Sir before you cum.”

His words hung at the edge of her consciousness for a moment, as his other hand left the valley of her sex, and came around her, hugging her tight against Him.

“SIR???” she spoke, incredulous awe in her voice, and incredible joy.

“You don’t think I’d let just anyone take pictures of my slut, now, do you? At least….not yet…”

The words hung in the air, a promise and a threat.

He was so good at that.

She shivered with anticipation.

The Sir Chronicles.

So…some of you know…some have guessed, and i just want to lay it all out there.

Sunday seems to be nilla-confession day or something. *grins*

Sir B and nilla came within a pussy-hair of parting ways. Things were verrah grim, and they came to a very sad head…but rather than imploding all over the place…we drew back…contemplated going on without each other…

and (sappy warning here, this is heady stuff…) He realized He would not be happy without me. i had thought He didn’t care, you see.  We were very surface, superficial…and i wasn’t happy with that. Coz my feelings went way deeper.

And when He thought i was going to walk, He reassessed HIMSELF…and determined to not let me go without making an attempt to change how we worked (or didn’t work) as a D/s couple.

The last 3 weeks have been…

*pausing for smile break*

…so. fucking. amazing.

We’ve become what i always imagined a good D/s couple could be. We’re friends…but HE is the boss. i have rulz. i have communication.

i got clamps…HIS clamps. You’ve seen the pic a few days ago. i have to wear them whenever i write here…unless i’m on a pain-restriction day. In that way, i connect my pain to Him, and forge my need for Him ever deeper.


He knows i have begun to drink from that well, and He will be the supplier of that intoxicating beverage. My dealer.

We’ve met a few times just to reconnect..sitting in His car, necking like teens. It’s amazing. It’s hawt. It’s so good to be with the one i’ve wanted…and for Him to begin to unleash His Beast…i hear the anticipation in His voice as we plan for our first “new” time together …an unfortunately long time away, in late Feb…but at least we have these little necking refreshers to help us bear up the separation a bit.

And….He did make me cum while squeezing my tit and nipple.

The Man has crazy strong hands….*smiles*

Things in nilla-land are bright and sunny …there will be hills to climb and spanking tools to get used to…He’s promised to ramp up His physical games and i’ve promised to use a safeword if i need to …as soon as i regain consciousness (laughs…j/k!).

Don’t worry though…there are still some Dark Chocolate nilla tales to be told in the days ahead…but you will see a buncha happy ones in there too.

That’s what happens when He says “Sir loves you, nilla.”

Cocktail for one

“Pain and pleasure are so inextricably mixed.  Blended into one exquisite cocktail where they alternate which has the upper hand at any given point in time…in the end, the explosive conclusion proves that the mixture is both volatile…and so addictive… ”     i wrote these words to Sir last night, and they have continued to resonate with me all day…so it’s only right that i craft a story around it, yes?  ~n~




Her breath was thick in her chest, as if she were inhaling syrup rather than oxygen. Equal  measures of fear and anticipation danced along her body as she listened with every fiber  of her being for His footfall.

She’d been laid out here for what felt like hours.  His hand had caressed her soft bottom, then slipped away. He moved soundlessly through the room, lost in a blur of applause from the television set across the room.

Where was He?

And what was He going to do to her? He’d been promising pain, He’d texted and emailed promises mixed with dire warnings.

“Resistance is futile” had been the one that had cropped up most often.

Funny how that one always sent a tug to her pussy.

Now bound to His will, hands useless, she was exposed, and vulnerable. She felt small, and nervous and gawd she needed to be fucked. He’d not touched her sexually at all yet. So unlike Him.

He was always dancing into her pussy the moment they came together, making her cum and cum and cum…

But He’d changed the steps of their special dance this time. New music, new routines, new steps. And He’d refused to give lessons. This was strictly ‘learn as you go’.

“I’m mixing you a special drink today, little one.”

His voice was soft and husky, right by her ear. A drink? What?

” Today you will drink from the chalice of Fear, little one.  Fear of the unknown. What will I do to you today? I feel you wondering …I’ve talked to you about this for weeks. I will blend that fear with intense erotic stimulation, consummation, and Domination. The day is here to meet your destiny at my hand.”

“And little one? Today I am going to hurt you. ”

He paused, and let the words sink deep.

“I know you want me to hurt you, little one. And more importantly…I want it, want your submission to My pain. I want to own that pain. And I am going to bind you to Me with that pain, as surely as if it were rope, or a drug. A drug that only I can supply.”

Then, silence.

Her heart had begun to pound as He had spoken. His voice, far from sinister, was deep and rich and ….caring.

She craved Him. He knew it now, knew it  and was going to use it against her.

The anticipation was almost as ominous as the whistling sound that sang through the air.