She walked into my mid-town office like she owned the joint.

Well, she did own my joint. Heh. Little humor there. See, my Mrs? She’s also my Mistress.

“How’s my cock today?” she purred, as she sat across from my desk. Her lips were painted a violent red. i wondered, briefly, how i’d gotten so fucking lucky.

“It’s missing You, Mistress,” i replied. “We did miss You terribly last night, this morning…”

“I was not happy that my secretary fucked up my return flight, my toy. Did you feel horribly neglected?” She threw out one of her sultry laughs.

“i’m more worried that your pussy felt neglected. No worship in three days, Mistress…”

My eyes nearly crossed, as she uncrossed her lovely legs. Despite the tight ring encircling the base of my cock, the twitching of my shaft reminded me that it had been three days since my cock had been freed from Her bondage. And despite the pain, there was a response to the  pretty picture in front of me. Her thighs remained slightly parted, the mysteriously shadowed valley there teasing my nostrils with wisps of her special,musky fragrance.

My mouth pooled with saliva.

“Mistress….” it was all i could get out through my need-choked throat. The desire to bury my face between her toned thighs, to feast on the luscious folds, was about overwhelming. She cocked one well-groomed brow at me, smiling suggestively at my discomfiture.

“I rarely find YOU at a loss for words, slave!” She bombed me with yet another laugh. It went straight to my cock, which was rigid and throbbing painfully in the hard confines of my steel prison. “I’m not certain I have much time for worship, my sweet toy. What I really want is a nice hard cock fucking me. It’s been three days since I felt my toy inside me…”

She licked her lips and all thoughts of spreadsheets, the situation in the Middle East, and the temperature at the top of Pikes Peak flew out of my head. I moaned as my cock kinked painfully inside its cage.

“Please, Mistress….my cock…”

She rose gracefully from her chair, crossed to my office door, and locked it. I suspect my employees know I’m ‘doing’ my wife when the lights go off in here, the modern equivalent of a sock on the outer knob…but then again, who could blame me? Mistress is lovely, sensual, sexy.

She came back to the chair, and coquettishly raised the hem of her brief skirt. My mind came close to exploding. The hose that clung to her gorgeous gams had a big fucking hole…right at the crotch.

She caught my wide-eyed amazed look.

She laughed.

“Found these in the Big City,” she chuckled. My cock was in excruciating pain, and i cringed. “Please Mistress…” my voice, deep and husky now with pain and raw, unabashed need. She crooked a ruby nail at me to come to her. i saw the wink of the golden key. Thank You Jeezuz! My heart rate increased, so loud, so fast that i wondered if it were audible to Her.

“Open for me, my toy,” She commanded firmly, and i unzipped my pants gratefully. The hard lump pressing against my BVD’s  was painfully obvious. She rubbed one fingertip over the steel-bound package i presented to Her. i closed my eyes as her fingers busied to free me. With a twist and tug,she pulled the confining cage from my engorged rod, and i moaned.

“Hurt for me, toy…” her murmured voice washed over me, through me, as i felt the blessed relief of freedom. Her lips lightly kissed the head of my cock, and my groan this time was one of raw, unabashed lust.

She lightly slapped my cheek, and i opened my eyes. She turned, and bending over my chair, spread her legs. She grinned over one shoulder, her flowing fall of hair hiding all but her dancing dark eyes.

“Fuck me from behind, slave. Fuck me hard and good, and perhaps I will even let you cum inside me….”

i slipped between those invitingly opened thighs, and my cock found home instantly. She was drenched, hot, and my cock sprang forth. She wanted it hard, dirty, rough.  i didn’t have to work hard to oblige.  She came before i’d stroked hard and deep more than a handful of times, her back arching and her teeth biting into her lower lip to stifle her groans.

“Keep.  (gasp)
Fucking.   (grind)
Me.”  (moan)

Her staccato order stabbed into the room. Those sex sounds of hers caused my cock to swell, harder, thicker.  The fucking ring around my nuts tightened nearly excruciatingly, and it was my turn to moan. I drove my cock deep inside her pussy, hard enough to shift the chair a few inches. A delightful curve to her spine now, her ass arched up to me, and my office fell silent as we reacquainted pussy and cock.
The only sound  was the slap of my balls hitting her clit, sending her into another frenzied orgasm. I felt her inner muscles clamp hard around my dick, and it was all i could do to keep from coming myself.



Pikes Peak.

“Harder. Harder, toy, ” Her frenetic need was by now, quite obvious. Her hips ground back against me, her words almost guttural as we fucked like animals in heat.

Our fucking was rough and tumble, a veritable free for all. Her long fingernails dug into my chair cushion, her mouth uttering small squeaks and moans as i rubbed against her ‘spot’, as my thrusts became violent, faster, deeper. i felt the tremor begin in her thighs, her ass, as the shaking, quaking mega-orgasm threatened to rip my cock from my body, trapping it forever within her grasping, clamping cunt.

i managed a fast, begging “please, Mistress…” before she ordered me to cum hard inside her.

Three days of pent-up sex-need roared from my balls, hurtling up through my rock-hard, ringed shaft. So hard to cum this way, but so much more intense when it happens, i felt my own knees shaking as i grabbed her hips, my belly pressed tight and hard against her ass as we mutually bathed each other in our sex fluids. She rose, quivering, pressing her back against my chest. My arms wrapped ’round her, thumbs flicking against her protuberant nipples through her soft sweater. Cashmere and nipples, a winning combination, i thought with the two brain cells left alive. They were hard little nuggets and i longed to take them into my mouth and suck her into yet another bone-shaking orgasm.
She laid her head back against my shoulder,  and my softening cock began to slip from her juiced folds.

“Clean-up, aisle 12” i joked, when feeling my cock pop from her, with a rush of moisture.

She laughed.

Doesn’t that make me the happiest slave of all, to hear Her laugh?


Can’t (version 2)

can’t, can’t, can’t She chanted.

You fucking will, slut He replied.

The belt fell with alarmingly regular strokes. He would continue to hit her ass with it until she squirted her cum for His pleasure.

But He’d been fucking with her body for hours.

She was drained, there was nothing left to offer to Him.

He’d taken all from her, she’d given Him all she had.

Another slap, another slap, another slap. She whimpered, writhed, arched. It fucking hurt! Her hands were cuffed together, tied to the headboard, while her legs hung off the side of the bed. Not very comfortable, but then again, this wasn’t about her comfort, she knew.

It was about His control over her.

Even the last few drops of cum in her body.

Another sharp report as the belt cracked against her red and hurting left cheek. Her clit throbbed as it pressed against the blanket bunched where it had fallen, another victim of His passion. She ground down against the rucked up fabric, feeling the roughness of it against her tender flesh.

Tender from His hand slapping her pussy to orgasm. Tender from His biting teeth scraping and nipping along her lower lips, tender from the fuckings He’d given her.

Pain transmuted to pleasure and she was surprised to feel it. It seemed all she could feel was the glowing heat on her ass, alternating with the short, tender strokes of his cooler hand against her burning buttocks.  The blanket rubbed roughly on her distended sex button, and she ground harder, focused now on the command He’d gruffly ordered.

you will cum for me one last time before I let you go, slut.

One last hard blow from the belt and she felt the tingle become a roaring wave rising through her belly to ripple outward. She threw back her head and began her keening cry….cummmmmmiiinnngggMasssterrrrrrr”

From far away she heard the belt clatter to the floor, felt His hands pulling her legs wider apart, felt His mouth lock onto her pussy, sucking, drinking her essence. His clever tongue continued the rolling wave, stroking her clenching tunnel, consuming her, feeding both their lust.

She was languid and supple under His hands, and murmured with pleasure as He roughly released her.

I did tell you that you would cum for Me one last time, He spoke low, amusement in His voice as He untied her bonds. And so you have, my good girl. And so you have.

Fertility Clinic 3/Molly

part two here

Max hadn’t been gone too terribly long before the door to the room where they’d been quizzed by Doctor McReedy opened. An exceptionally handsome younger man came into the room.

“Molly?” He quirked his head to the side in a charming manner. She returned his smile, and nodded. It was beginning!

“C’mon with me, and we’ll start YOUR part in all this. While your husbands contribution is important, YOU are the star of the show!”

He hooked his arm in hers, and led her down the hall to the conjoined double doors. He pushed open the doors that lead to a soft yellow hallway. Paintings of flowers lined the walls, the lighting was discrete, and soft. Everything here bespoke calm beauty.

“This is…lovely…” Molly was pleased, relaxed as he led her down the long curving corridor.

“We try to ensure that the client, ergo…YOU…feels peaceful, tranquil. The tests are all  virtually pain-free, and today’s longer consultations will bring us a deeper understanding of your medical issue that have kept you childless. We’ll examine you as throughly as Max, and after we see all the results, we can devise a plan that will work to bring you a child…or perhaps children within the next 12 months.”

“Goodness!” Molly laid her hand over his, squeezing a very firm bicep. “I could be a mom a year from now?!”  He nodded.

“By the way, my name is Joaquin, but you can call me Joe.”

“Certainly not the average ‘joe’ ” Molly quipped.

He grinned. “nope. not many male nurses in the baby business. And definitely not “average”.” His laughter filled her heart with joy. How could anyone be worried about some silly tests with a guy like this helping her out.

Okay, she was married, but gawd, she wasn’t dead!! This guy could be on the silver screen, he was that gorgeous. And strong. For certain her type.

She felt a little thrill run through her. He would be looking at her intimate bits. And wasn’t that just a naughty little turn on? She bit her lip to hold in her giggle.

He stopped before a soft lavender door, and opened it, guiding Molly inside. The room was spacious and resembled…a bedroom, actually.  Instead of a metal cabinet holding medical implements, there was a beautifully carved wardrobe, the flat top laid out with a few things, but also a vase of sunflowers.

Joe instructed her to remove her clothing, and lay on the bed.

“One more thing, Molly,” he added, as he turned back to her. “In the top drawer there is a blindfold, if you prefer to not see the instruments we’ll be using. I know that can be a fear-factor thing for so many women, and we’ve found that the use of medical blindfolds actually heightens the experience, rather than frightens.”

She nodded, at a loss for words, nerves finally catching up to her, and building a hard lump in her throat.

He smiled reassuringly at her, then left the room. She paused a moment.


No johnny to put on? The bed looked comfortable. She checked and under the soft cotton sheet was a waterproof sheath.  So much was different that traditional medicine here….but then again the success rate was so very high.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat and unbuttoned her blouse with gently trembling fingers.


She heard the door open, and a soft voice saying, “Hi Molly, you okay?”

She cleared her throat, embarrassed that her nipples had hardened as she lay here, feeling vulnerable, exposed, and shamefully, very turned on.

“I’m good.”

She heard footsteps approaching the bed.  Her body was positioned, and somehow her legs were lifted, and secured, opening her sex, exposing her.

“I’m Dr. Lithway, and I’m here to do your first internal exam. Joe is here assisting me. Let’s keep an open dialogue here, and you let me know if something is uncomfortably painful, or stimulating, okay?”

She nodded. She was uncomfortable with her legs pulled up and back like this. But it was more about the exposure than the physical discomfort. She felt fingers probing around her pussy. Stroking her outer lips. She was opened further, her cunt lips pulled apart, and then a finger pressed on her clitoris.


Her hips arched and a moan escaped.

“EXCELLENT!” The doctor’s voice sounded pleased. “Very responsive to clitoral stimulation. Let’s go further with this, okay Molly?”

She nodded, her pussy jolted awake by the fingers now rubbing around her lips, her clit, slipping around the entrance to her hole but not entering her channel.

She could feel the excitement building. From far away she barely registered the doctor speaking softly to Joe. Something about appropriate fluid response. All she knew was that if he kept at this, she was going to give another appropriate fluid response, all over the cotton sheets….

And then he stopped.

She moaned, arching for the finger to return to her throbbing clit.

“I know, Molly, you really need release, but trust me, we need to examine all your responses here, okay?”

She whimpered, nodded.

The sharp slap against her cunt caught her unaware…and she yelped.

“good girl, it’s okay, yell if you need to…scream…we’re testing all your thresholds today….”

That should have warned her, but another slap against her swollen, wet pussy surprised her yet again. This one landed against her hole, and the pressure was both painful…and exciting.

She and her husband had played around with bondage sex a bit, but never like this! She yelped as another blow landed full on her engorged clit.

“GAWD!” she moaned as several more blows fell in  rapid succession, striking all parts of her splayed, vulnerable pussy.  She felt the orgasm building yet again…stronger now. She lifted her hips humping air, desperate for satisfaction.

A hand covered her pussy, resting gently there, pushing her hips back down to the mattress.

“sssshhhhhh….relax Molly, not yet…”

and she was denied again. She felt the flow of wetness leaking from her, but was too tied up in need to be embarrassed. Gods she needed to cum. Gods.

“Please…” she whispered.

“Soon, little one, soon….just a few more tests here…”

She felt a probing at her rectum, and then a fast sharp pain as something was inserted into her ass.

Her cry this time was born of pleasure at war with pain. It fucking hurt…and her cunt and clit were throbbing like a nympho’s pussy must….

Soothing hands stroked her cheek, her lips, then slipped down to her breasts.

She tried to listen to their words.  Mothers milk, nipple formation, responsiveness…but she was caught up in a dizzying rainbow world of pleasure and need and pain.

The pinch on her nipple added to her frenzy. It didn’t stop. Something cold, metallic was biting into her nipple. She felt a response deep inside her pussy.

As her second nipple was pinched, she felt something cool, metallic, smooth and fucking HUGE at the entrance to her cunthole. The tip was round, and it was slipped up and down her slit. She gasped as the cool metal slid over her hot and throbbing clit.

and then it was pushed inside her.

She was so fucking wet that it easily slid inside her but the feeling of being totally fucking full of the probe was … she tried to shy away from the feeling. She should not be so turned on by a fucking probe in her pussy.

Should she?

“Great, your internal temperature is perfect, Molly.” she felt pressure on her asshole. Whatever the fuck was there was being removed.

And reinserted.

“Owww…” she moaned.

The doctor’s voice crooned. “That’s a good girl, relax, let the probe in…”

This probe wasn’t the same as the first one. This one was fully as big as the one currently buried in her cunt. She grunted with pain as her asshole was stretched, widened.

She felt a gush of fluid from her pussy. No! She wasn’t cumming from this monstrous thing in her ass!

“Good, good Molly, that’s it, let it flow….”

Yet apparently, she was.

“The first probe was to stretch your anus a bit, make it easier to accept the bigger probe. You’re doing beautifully. A few more tests to go and then you can have full release, little one.”

The probes were alternately pushed deep, withdrawn. The “fucking” was slow, with short breaks, presumably to record whatever the fuck they were recording for data.

She felt the need to be fucked. Really, truly fucked.

She began to beg. Softly. Almost under her breath, a steady, soft chant of “pleasepleasepleaseplease” as the need to cum was built steadily.

The probe in her pussy was withdrawn first. She felt empty. Deserted. Then the probe in her ass was withdrawn. The simple slipping of that sleek metal tube made her pussy throb with an empty fire. She felt her internal muscles clamping down on nothing, desperate to hold something inside of her body, to no avail. The smooth metal shaft was withdrawn, and all that remained was the gentle throbbing of her nipples, still clamped in whatever measuring device they’d secured on them earlier.

The bed creaked, and a hand stroked her arm. “Do you need something, Molly?” His voice was soft, gentle. Her head snapped forward and back in a vigorous nod. Did she need something? Oh my fucking gawd, she needed something alright!

“Tell me.” The doctor’s voice was firm, commanding her verbal response. She flushed with embarrassment.

“I can’t help you if you are not totally honest, little one. Tell me.”

She shivered with lust at the tone.

In a near-whisper, she said “i need to cum. i really,really, really want to cum. Please, Doctor?”

“You mean you need to be fucked hard until you cum, right?”

She nodded, even as her mouth whispered ‘yes’.

His soft hmmmm filled her head. The tone of his voice was so fucking hot. She was confused…and so turned on.

“You consented, signed, and agreed to all of this Molly. Don’t worry, you’re not violating any rules or laws of conduct here…this is all to help you with one important goal…a baby for Molly and Max.”

She moaned.

“Please fuck me. Please fuck me. Please fuck me…”and her voice trailed off to a whimper.

Her legs were lowered, and she was turned to her side. Her pussy was leaking copiously, and she whimpered when she felt the head of his cock slipping against her lower lips. There was a feeling of warmth behind her, and then a second cock rubbing her from behind.

“Don’t worry, Mollygirl,” Joe whispered in her ear. “Two cocks, two cums, in the best delivery system designed by mom nature…”

His cock slipped back and forth through her asscheeks, as the Doctors cock filled her. As he pulled back, she felt Joe’s cock pressing against her pussy.

Two cocks pressed hard into her hole, as she whimpered.  The incredible fullness of them filled her pussyhole, stretched her, hurt, even. Wrapped tightly in two sets of strong arms, she could not fight, could not resist.

At the first, accepting the dual invasion into her cunt, then, explosively, welcoming them.

She came.

She came multiple times. Slow, steady, deeply driving matched strokes pushed her up and over the edge of consciousness. As she began to tumble, she felt the first, pulsing release pressing up inside her belly, pushed deeper by the thrusting spears filling her with their commingled juice.

Baby seed.

She fainted with a smile on her face.

Can’t (version 1)

“Can’t Master…..” Her voice was faint, husky, breathless, spent.

“You will. I demand it.”

Demand all You want, she thought silently. It’s drained. Dead. Sore. Tired. Nothing left. Nada.

She lay on her back, He lay beside her, His arm wrapped under her neck, idly pinching her shoulder, arm and breast as His hand moved lazily over her.

His other hand was trailing down her belly, back up, then down again, lower each time, dipping ever closer to the swollen vee between her thighs.

Her body was painted in marks from those same hands…bruises that matched His fingers, long red welts from a judiciously utilized cane, purple ovals from his teeth, and flat red marks from the wooden paddle.

His finger continued to caress each mark, badges of an afternoon well spent in submissive and Dominant raptures, punctuated with bouts of heavy, intense sex.

The room smelled richly of mating fluids.

At long last, though she may have continued to believe it was far too soon, His fingers slipped down between reddened folds, to fondle her clit.

Her moan was instantaneous, and He could tell, a mixture of pain and pleasure. Such a little slut, His subgirl. To be sure, He knew her pussy must hurt like fuck-all, but she was still greedy for His touch.

He looked down at her. Tits heaving, nipples puckered tightly, and her legs spread widely open. In juxtaposition, her head was thrown back, and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

A smile curved His lips, as he looked at the wanton slut cradled in His grasp. His fingers dipped into her pussy, His thumb caressing her aching clit.

He knew it was there, hiding.

One last orgasm.

Even as she arched, a tight-strung bow, snapping with the force of the explosion He pulled from her, His lips danced along her ear.

“I knew it, didn’t I, little girl?  Yes, you can. And did.”

“And will, again.”

The True Story of Where is RiffDog

*have you been to Riff’s? Seriously, one of the funniest, mangiest dawgs this nilla has ever ‘met’…and yet, despite (because of ?) the footloose philandering,  there is a sweetness,  perhaps even an “innocent” charm there. And did i mention that Riff  is completely totally hysterical? Seriously…if you have not visited his site, it’s in the blog roll over there…..(and highly recommended by this  picky reader…..)  >>>>.

If you like tongue-in (i was going to say cheek but his tongue has been in so many places…)…lets just say if you like bawdy humor, you must go there. But heed this warning, gentle reader….. do go without a full bladder or a mouthful of your fave beverage or you’ll pee your pants or squirt your drink onto your monitor. You’ve been warned!!!

Riff has been gone for a while now, 3 weeks and counting, and he gave your nilla a huge plug in his last post, and there’ve been some Riff-fans popping over here to get a look into my dirty little mind. (waves to Riffs readers…hey! welcome!!)

Both in Riff’s blog comments, AND in a chat we were having, sin challenged me to write a story explaining Riff’s absence. After pondering the issue for a while (and hoping that the dawg would return sooner rather than later….)  i have decided to take on that challenge. Here then, is the “true” story of  Where is Riff Dog….Oh….”Where oh where can he be”  ~n~

p.s. please note that names have been changed to protect the…participants (you didn’t really think i was gonna say ‘innocent’ didja??! *laughs wickedly*)



“Don’t fight it, sweetie.”

“I think he just called you a motherfucker, Dilly.”

“You think so, Dolly?” She looked over her shoulder to take in the view, a handsome, well-built, oh, so well-built, man, tied to the bedposts. The large pink ballgag in his mouth added insult to injury.

“he did enjoy the thought of ‘doin’ twins, when we met at the restaurant,” and she threw back her blonde curls and giggled. Her sister joined in.

“Men are so fucking predictable. You know, sister mine, I think it’s time we move on, though. We’ll take care of this guy, and then…*poof*. She closed her finger tips together and popped them open like a flower bud opening.


Headline, New York Daily Press

Another victim of a bizarre crime has been found in a small hotel room off of Madison Way. Police have linked this crime to several similar ones, all involving men.

The victims are lured to an out-of-the-way hotel, teased into bondage games, robbed, and drained of their testosterone. Police have yet to find any leads in the case.


There was a great deal of grunting happening on the bed. The women were actively sucking him dry and it was becoming quite painful. He pulled at his bonds but they were too tight. The two brunettes had been sucking his cock for what felt like hours, and he’d cum more than ever before in his life.

The ball gag was thick and muffled him rather well, but he began to be afraid, truly afraid, when the silvery line of duct tape went over it, virtually silencing him.

He screamed when he felt the first bite into his left nut….


Dolly and Dilly walked, arm in arm, down the busy sidewalk. Their strawberry blonde hair glinted in the southern sun, and their doubled beauty drew many appreciative glances from passersby.

“I’m starting to feel hungry again,” said Dilly.

“I know, Dil, but it’s only been a few months. We have to be careful.”

They stopped in front of a newsstand, looking over the glossy cover pictures of celebs.

“Dil, look…” Dolly pointed at the US Update.

Link between victims hints at “Affair” website.

The picked up a copy of that, as well as the glossies, and headed to the restaurant. They ate quickly, and headed back to their hotel room. The view from the 18th floor was panoramic, but they weren’t looking at Dallas just then.  They lay, bellies down, side by side on the bed, reading about a series of grizzly murders in New York City, Boston, Portland, and Charleston. The east coast was abuzz with speculation.

They finished reading, and rubbed cheeks.

“Clue-less” They giggled together.

“C’mon, time to go find a date!” and Dolly slipped from the bed to retrieve their laptop.

She opened the page to the Affair site and they began their Dallas hunting.


“Look, man, you’re the one for the job. NO one would suspect you, for one thing.  Seriously, man, you’re not the type to run out and have an affair, yanno?”

Inwardly he rolled his eyes, gosh was he *that* fucking predictable? Wouldn’t Dave just shit a fucking brick if he knew? He wondered how many women he’d fucked “outside the ‘ring’,” anyway?

“Look, Dawg, you’re my best agent. The cover as a record producer gets you in everywhere, and the cache of being an ‘industry’ guy has fed you lots of information. Word on the wire is that the Affair Killer is headed west. We don’t need shit like that goin’ down here in LA…things are crazy enough without some psychopathic dong eating bitch arriving.”

Wasn’t that a thought to shrivel a guys balls? Who did that? Other than Hannible the Horrible. Man, he loathed that movie. And this bitch gave “eating cock” an entirely new meaning. He could barely suppress the shudder that ran through him.

He loved having a clever-mouthed lady swallow his cock. There was no better feeling than having a pair of ruby-slicked lips slipping down over his engorged head, sliding down the sides, and engulfing him. The thick warm wetness of her mouth surrounding his dick, the pull and suck as her mouth retreated, the tease of cool air wrapping around where warm lips had been….

Geeze. He shifted, just a bit, in his chair. He was making himself hard thinking about Amylia. Her mouth was a fucking work of art…and he’d best focus on Dave and stop thinking about her warm, red lips…

“….so I think YOU are the one for the job.”

Dave sat and looked at him. Dawg blinked. Obviously he’d missed something of importance.  He scrolled back to what his boss had said, but all that came to him was a memory of coquette lips wrapped around his shaft…and down that road lay danger…

Dave was looking expectant, perhaps edged with impatience.


“Good, Dawg, good.” Then he laughed. This was Dave’s favorite joke. As if calling him a “good dawg” was a joke he’d never heard before.

He tried not to sigh audibly. He wondered what exactly he’d just gotten himself into.


His wife was getting pissed. He was out every other night for two weeks. Meeting chicks on The Date Site was one thing, but to be doing it for work? Too fucking bad about the collar-cam that recorded everyfuckin’ thing. And the mike in his watch. He could’ve scored nine times out of nine dates.

She leaned across the table, and brushed his hand with hers. Her rich auburn hair glowed in the candlelight.

“I hope you don’t think me too forward, touching you like this?”

“Hmmm, not at all.” he murmured. Oh, she was one fucking sexy babe. His cock warmed to the thought of burying himself between her full and luscious tits….he pulled his brain out of his dick with a superhuman effort. “Touch is one of the key ways we discover one another,” he added, his finger lightly caressing the pinky finger that draped into the cup of his hand.

She arched her back, sighing happily.

“You really are a forward-thinking man, Riff. With an unusual name. . .” her pregnant pause gave him time to talk about himself if he chose.

He doubted he’d ever met a more accommodating woman. She shifted, rose from her chair across the table, and came around to sit beside him.

The scent of her was, very nearly, intoxicating. Pure, raw lust raged through him. He had no idea what fucking perfume she was wearing but it smelled like warm, sweet pussy. . . his favorite scent of all.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, looking up at him with dewy eyes. Hers were perfect, soft tawny brown, and warm with her own open lust. Her perfect little hand lay now on his thigh.

“mmmm, strong. i do love a strong man, Riff….”

His hand lay atop hers, stopping her journey towards his crotch. His cock shouted at him that now was not a time for duty, but action! Fuck but he was fed up with this assignment! He was so busy dating that he’d hardly had time to fuck his wife, let alone a bit o’ honey on the side!

“Can we go somewhere?” she purred into his ear. “I have a sweet surprise for you, Riff.” Her voice was deeply husky, and fed teases to his groin. The view from here was fan-fucking-tastic, too. Full lush tits, pushed up and almost out of the sweater-dress she wore like a fucking second skin.

“What’s the hurry?” he asked, trying to put her off.

“I have a twin. She’s back at the hotel. And Riff? We’re both so hungry for a real man….if you think you can handle two of us…” And she pulled back, looking up at him with those guileless eyes.

And that triggered a warning down deep in his primal brain. Along with the explosive sexual energies generated in his testicles by the thought of banging two chicklets who looked like this, the sheer ferocity that glowed from her face when she said “Hungry” set off warning bells.

First and foremost, he was an Agent. His cock might disagree at the moment, but he knew his duty, and perhaps his life lay on the line here.

He looked down at her and signaled the code words.

“Okay, let’s go…”


Later he was never sure how he’d managed to slip the noose on his wrist, other than sure, prime skill. He was an operator of the highest order, after all.  Sirens blared, and two angry redheads screamed and fought like hellcats as the Feds cuffed them, and led them out. They were a sight to behold that pair, naked tits bouncing, and feral teeth bared.

His cock throbbed dully in his boxers. He wondered if he’d get hazard pay for almost losing his boner. Doubted it, fucking economic downturn.

Dave slapped him on the shoulder and steered him away from the lights. “Cover’s pretty blown inter-agency, Dawg, but hey, you’ll have a rep as the guy who stopped those two cunts from gobbling down another cock.”

oh. wasn’t that going to look great on his resume?

The Last Time …

* so many comments have been made, and i’ve been away from my computer pretty much since Friday. Add in the Monday Holiday here in the USA, and you have a nilla who is very behind in her responses. Please know that i will respond to every single comment later today, i’ve read them on my phone, just can’t reply to them that way….~n~*

It was the last time we would be together for 6 weeks, and, before we decided that 2/20 would be the day that He would take me as His.

It was a time of healing, of re-connection, of exploring who we are as a D/s couple…There was a wonderfully rough Manhandling as i stood for inspection against the wall, His voice hissing in my ear…”Don’t you cum nilla.” And a pause as He found and began to assault my clit and i started a dance…closer? away? both? and moaning.

i was so fucking hot for Him.

Then His voice again…”don’t you fucking dare to cum, got it, slut?”

i whined.


i fucking whined. Little moans and groans and petulant pouting. Begging, lots of begging. No cumming. He would NOT be dissuaded, nor would He stop diddling with my pussy. Fucking tyrant, that Man!!

And of course, it wasn’t too long (okay it was fucking *forever*!!) before He *threw* me on the bed. Yup. Threw me, then straddled me, and fingerfucked me to a massive, squirting orgasm.

That was the start of our rekindling. It started hot, intense, and got hotter, brighter, darker. Spanks and assfucking and multiple orgasms…..

As always, there was humor.

Gods, He makes me laugh.  We were laying on the bed in a tangled heap of sheets, of body parts, exhausted victims of a lust-fire temporarily quenched.

His fingers are always on me, in me, even in these moments of quiet lassitude. His leg was up over mine, the other hand gently (but firmly) holding my two captured wrists as He teased my poor, sensitive, throbbing clitoris.

i don’t recall, just now, what it was He said. Something outrageous. Something wild. Something so patently untrue that i felt the giggles erupt (He loves to make me laugh, and He has (unfortunately for me) discovered that i am incredibly ticklish. Laughter as torment…truly…)

Anyway, He’d made this statement and it hung there for a moment. i am laying captive in His grip, blindfolded, but i can *see* the smug satisfaction on His face in my mind’s eye. i know that face so well, His voice, the tones and inflections…i snort out a wee noise…it was that or explode, you see?

Then i stammer out a “Sir” between increasingly infectious snufflings that did sound remarkably like giggles….

“Wh-aaaa-t,” He says.

“A-a-a (giggle–i cannot believe i’m gonna say this…) are…You…*snortl* ….wearing….(giggle break)… pants…. and i break into hysterical muffled, lip biting chortles….

in the brief pause, i picture His face perfectly…the furrowed brows, the “Look”…that Doms wear when they are totally baffled by their subs unbelievable stoopidness.

“Wh?” and this incredulous snort, then in an equally incredulous tone (remember, He’d just finished fucking the hell out of me)….

“am I wearing pants, no, I’m not wearing pants – what do you think this is- a fucking date!”

and i *erupt* into massive laughter, barely just barely getting out the words now…

“Good…laughlaughlaugh….coz…giggle…if You did….*giggle guffaw giggle*….they’d be *full-on eruptive laughter* on fire!!!”

And i’m just gone, sailing off in gales of hysteria, and He pauses again, and then *gets* it.(liar liar pants on fire!)…..and He erupts, and He’s laughing, and i’m laughing and He pinches my clit as He lays across me laughing, and i cum so hard….

Later, coming down from the hysteria, He says…”you are such a slut, nilla…squirting all over the bed as you giggle at MY expense…”

and i try not to laugh…


epic fail.



sooooo many first-person stories of late…stepping out of my “he-she” style a bit…many of these are fantasies, some are dreams…and some..mmmmmm realllly really real! ~n~


His voice is implacable. Calm, firm, and undeniably an order. i crawl across the room, not feeling the rough carpeting under my hands, my knees.  All i can feel is the steady trickle of lust oozing from my pussy, the increasing throb of my clitoris, and how hard it is to breathe with all this lust coiling inside of me.

i stop when i reach his jean-clad legs, and wait, head down. He forbade me to make eye contact until He lifts my face. He reaches down and grabs the hair at the back of my neck, and bids me to rise.  Yet  my head is held bowed, and i know to not disobey and look up at Him.

His hands work my nipples, and i hear the rattle of the chain He has gifted to me, as He removes it from His pocket. The pinch fills me even as i wince. i adore His hands on me. Then the clamp bites onto my swollen nipple and i wince again.  He pats my head, and bids me, once again, to crawl.

i am confused as there is only one clamp on one nipple. How can i crawl lopsided? Carefully, verrry carefully, as kneeling on the second clamp would be very painful for nipple and knee both.

i feel His eyes on my ass as i crawl away, the trailing chain dangling under my belly as i move away.

“Good slut,” He says.  “Crawling and being on your knees will play an important part in your growth as my slut.” i turn at the door and make my way towards His legs again. He squats in front of me as i wait, and fastens the other clamp onto my nipple, then bids me to “Crawl, slut, crawl for your Master”.

i am nearly dizzy with the need growing between my now-wet thighs. Yet i crawl once more, my hips and ass swaying as i head for the door; the chain swinging freely from my clamped tits as i turn and head back to Him.

His finger hooks the chain and he bids me to kneel.

That same finger lifts my chin, and at last, our eyes meet.

On Being A Collared sub

i need a big ole smiley emoticon to go under that heading.

Maybe this pic will work?

Doesn’t it seem as tho she is sayin’ “mmmmmmm” ?

So, today is THE day.

*big, happy breath* Whoooosh!

Wow. i’m excited. nervous. i know, right? why the fuck am i so nervous? i’ve been all sorts of wiggly-needy-impatient for Sunday to arrive, and now it is here and my heart is pounding in my chest as i wait to leave for the hotel to meet my Master. Sir B, as you know, has taken that role, and embraced this fully.

i’ve spent a lot of time on my knees in devotion to Him this week, in a variety of tasks…chains on my nipples (or once, my ears) and in my mouth so i drool all over my tits.  Or with ass plug in place as i contemplate His taking my ass as my Master (harder, deeper, fiercer than you’ve know me to be before, nilla, as I make you fully, completely Mine). He has this partiality to fucking my ass, and he has been very generous in breaking in my backdoor gently–and i *do* love it, once i adapt to it…. still there is that word in there…fiercer…as we fully transition to my being His. Owned.  slut.

Something about that statement releases His Beast, fully, totally.

So sometime around 11 a.m. Eastern time,  i will be kneeling at His feet and accepting His collar, committing to Him fully, as He commits to me.

i made him a “collar” of my own…a scarf i have been knitting for Him since October.  If you knit, you know how small size 3 needles are, and how thin and fine fingering-weight yarn is. This is cashmere, silk and alpaca yarn, lightweight and warm, without being scratchy.

Hard to see all the patterning in this shot. But i learned two new techniques for this, for Him. i figure i have a lot of learning ahead, so….

why not learn a new way to cast on….(symbolic to being “bound to” casting on is how a knitter puts stitches onto the needle. This technique, the Channel Island, leaves little “balls” at the bottom edge, making a nice finish look.

The perfect length for a “Man Scarf”, it has a numerology that is significant to Sir…er, that would be Master B and i…

Every stitch filled with significance, with love, and lust…

And that is exactly how i feel about wearing His collar…the love, the lust, the caring, the Ownership that it signifies. my collar could be a piece of twine, or a neon pink dog collar from the pet isle at one of those big Marts, because it’s not the *collar* that makes this act so important to me. (And i’d venture to say that this is true of most collared subs out there?) For me, it is the action, the……legitimizing, perhaps? of the   “i am His” statement.

And yet for me, the collar is not a promise (as in Vanilla life) of “fidelity”–in D/s those rules are different. There is “vanilla fair” and then there is “D/s” fair.  There *is* the promise i make to Him to abide by the rules that He (primarily) makes (with some input from me, but the ultimate rule-making is His right as my Dom.). A rule which may include my exclusive fidelity to Him, but not necessarily reciprocated by Him, if He chose to fuck another sub.

I am not threatened by this, by the (seemingly) inherent conflict of the one-way rule.

If He was to take another sub, it would not diminish what He and i have.  i know i’ve said this before and not *one* of the subbies i know feels the same way as i do about this–i’m not jealous. i’m not possessive. This is *not* a slam towards those of you that are, btw. It is just the unique nilla perspective i speak of here.

and i will take a moment to say that, early in my relationship with my wife, she dated guys. We had a sexual relationship, but she dated and had a sexual relationship with 4 guys that i can recall. Never bothered me then, doesn’t bother me now. So i have a 30 + year history of not being jealous. i truly do believe in “free (albeit safe) love”–and that love is our Ultimate Purpose for drawing breath.

okay, now back to what i was saying about being collared… i will be Master B’s first collared sub. As He wrote earlier this week, He never believed in it until i came into His life.  We can’t live the day-to-day intimate life of a 24/7 D/s couple, but in every way W/we can…W/we are.

i am making a public commitment to O/our relationship by taking His collar, that i will abide by His rules, His guidelines…all is His to use (or not) as He chooses.

How is this different from how things were before He places that golden chain around my neck?

i simply do not know. in many ways  this is similar to being married. To making a physical, outward “mark” that i am His. If He had chosen to tattoo me rather than a collar, or pierce me…that would have been fine too.

All i know for certain is that my heart has been captured, and He holds it in Hands.

Where all of me will be perfectly safe, for now, and for always.

nilla  loves You, Master B. You are the Master of my heart, my body, my spirit.

i love You, Master.

Fly and Spider (2)

part 1 here

He scanned the room for her, but she’d Houdini’d once more. He took note of the people moving around the perimeters of the room; girls and older women bearing trays of bubbly, and hors d’oeuvres; the occasional assistant attending to her or his duties. He watched a chubby older women climbing the stairs. She limped a bit, her hand grasping the rail firmly and taking each of the marble steps carefully.

He watched a waiter refilling a tray for a younger serving girl, the too-casual touching of her hand on his, their blushes.

Young love, he almost scoffed. His gaze returned to the woman on the steps.

He wondered about that. Why had she caught his attention twice when he’d already seen and dismissed…he was moving towards the steps before he was fully aware, used to instinct and logic mating soundlessly in his mind. She was suddenly of prime interest.

He reached her by taking the steps two at a time.

“Excuse me miss,”

“Oh!” She jolted in surprise. “You startled me young man.”

He looked into the dark brown eyes, knew a flash of disappointment…her eyes had been blue, pure, real blue.  This time he did dismiss her as a tired and overworked assistant. Damn!

“May I help you up the stairs?” he asked, as his eyes searched the crowd below over her head.

She patted his hand, matronly, and refused.

“Go on, young man, I can see you’d rather be down there with all the flash and sparkles.”

And she turned and began making her way upstairs once more.

He stood another moment, for once, at a total impasse. Clearly, something about this woman had drawn his attention. Yet equally clearly, she was not his quarry. He watched as she turned the corner and headed down the long hallway that he knew ran parallel to the ballroom below. Ah, well, he mused, even his ‘spidey-sense’ could fuck up occasionally. He jogged down the steps, returning his attention to the glitterati  amassed below.


She turned into the butlers closet as soon as she noted that he was not following her. Her heart was pounding, and she was so glad she had decided to spray her throat with the numbing spray to distort her voice, turning her normally husky tone into a thin warble. She pulled her penlight out of her bra, as well as the tiny floor plan. She found the location of the door to the discreet service steps that ran, enclosed between floors, to allow staff to quickly and invisibly carry out their duties. It was located, thankfully, at the end of this hallway. She took deep, calming breaths, and counted to 30 before she cracked open the door to be sure she was alone.

The hallway was clear.

She made her way to the end of the long corridor without incident, opened the door, and found the stairway leading up.

This was getting far too easy, she mused as she made her way quickly, quietly  to the Marquise’s rooms.


He roamed the floor. She was nowhere to be found, and yet he *knew* she was here. There was no way she would ditch her plans just because he was here.

For all he imagined, it even added to the cache of it. Stealing the Empress Diamond out from under his nose would be an added jewel in her crown. Little bitch. He should have grabbed her and cuffed her when he kissed her hand. He’d really wanted to catch her with her hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. That would add to the cache for him. He thought of that lovely hand, those slender, talented, bad little fingers. His cock twitched in his pants and he subtly adjusted himself.

Dammit. He was annoyed that he found her so fucking alluring. Perhaps he’d fuck her mouth before he took her down.  Or perhaps more. She was a tasty morsel, to be sure. But first he had to find the fucking minx.

A picture flashed into his mind, that of the older woman on the stairs a bit ago.

Why did she keep popping into his head? He closed his eyes, and thought about kissing the thief’s hand, then about the elder woman. Perhaps they were in cahoots? But no, no, she had a reputation for working alone.

Wait. Her scent was subtle, he recalled. Just a hint of a memory, and he focused on recalling it. He thought about the peppery-spice fragrance teasing his nose, and placed the fragrance as Poivre. Pretty fucking exclusive perfume, retailing about $2000 greenbacks for a tiny 2-oz bottle.

He only knew that because his last girlfriend had been a perfume junkie, and had begged him to score some of it for a special Valentines Day ‘surprise’. Right. As fucking if he’d drop two grand on a few diddles of oil. He told her he preferred the scent of her cunt, and when she was done smacking his face, she left.

She did pack a helluva slap, he recalled with a smile.

And the woman on the steps had that same, subtle scent, albeit overlaid with that fresh-scrubbed-off smell of pink bathroom soap.

He’d found her Achilles heel, by God! He turned and wove his way around the masses thronging in the ballroom, and sprinted back up the steps.

“Gotcha!” he crowed to himself. Except…she was not to be seen. He wondered if he’d find her in the Dowager Countess’s rooms fondling that bloody diamond.

Gods above he certainly hoped so!