Dr. Strangeguy, (session 2)

i look around. Not much has changed  since my last visit here. Not that i expected it to, really, but somehow in my head it was bigger.

i don’t really want to sit and thumb through 2-year-old copies of Downeast, mostly coz i’ve read them all. Not here, mind, coz i have a subscription.

And okay, i have an ass plug in, too.  i go and look at the prints on the wall. Old Orchard Beach Pier.

Mount Katahdin.

Lovely snapshots of Maine.

Ohhh….the beautiful crescent of Sand Beach at Acadia National Park!   i shiver remembering visiting there some years ago. Fucking cold water even in high summer. Just thinking about it makes my nipples hard.

So, why am i back here, you might wonder? Well, me too. i guess it’s in the nature of a follow up. I wonder if he’s been reading my blog.

The wood paneled door opens, and out comes Dr. Strangeguy.

“My goodness, it’s good to see you again, nilla,” he says, ushering me inside. There’s the lumpy couch again. Oh, and he’s laid out a plethora of clamps.

i longingly back towards the door, but the good Doctor is pushing me steadily towards the couch.

“Now, nilla,” he says in that jovial voice that all good shrinks must master in college, “I see you looking at those clamps. We’re going to spend this session trying a little word playing.”

i look at him, my eyebrows lifting. wordplay i think in my snarky inner voice, wordplay, and the guy lays out nipple clamps? The only fucking word that comes to mind is “ouch” …i can see this is going to go well…

He interrupts my inner snark with a tap on my right shoulder.

“Pay attention, nilla.”

“Yes doctor. i am” Mentally i roll my eyes. i’m sure that all my friends who pitched in to pay for this therapy session will be charmed by this.

“now, I want you to go sit on the couch. That’s right, just like that. Now, I’m going to say a word and you will pick up the pair of clamps that best exemplifies that word to you. Got it?”

i nod. i am curious now. The ass plug is settled in place, and my butt is throbbing softly. Its kind of a nice feeling, actually. Awake. Aware. and a bit turned on, too.

“Hunger”

i feel my brows beetle down. hunger?

i look at the array of clamps and feel my hand stretching out to the adjustable nipple clamps with the light chain. i love the feeling of a chain connecting my nipples, the swing of it, the cool teasing flash of the metal, the faint jingling sound…it never fails to wet me.

“Good girl,” he says, and he rises and crosses to me.  “Lift your shirt,” he adds, and i do.

The clamps aren’t too tight. And i do feel that tell-tale tingle between my thighs. That faint ‘hunger’ feeling that makes me feel like i want to be fucked.

“Um, Doc?”

“Not now nilla.”

i fall silent and wait for the next word. i don’t have long to wait. Just long enough that i feel the gentle throbbing of my nipples as they become aware and awake.

“Service”

i reach for the pair that resembles the ones Master has gifted to me.  i wear them in service to Him;  sometimes when i write, sometimes during corner time, sometimes just at His whim.  A logical choice. The clamps are tighter, the chain much heavier, reminding me that i am owned. i love this set, even though it is much more painful than the pair i am currently wearing.

Again i am instructed to lift my shirt, baring my puckery nipples. The gentle clamps are removed, to my regret. He quickly snaps on the fuckin… i mean, the service-oriented, clamp set. The drag of the chain pulls hard on my sensitive nips, and a small moan escapes.

Hell, i’m a slut. Goes with the territory.

He cluckclucks under his breath and goes back to his chair. He watches me for a bit. What is that? Why do they do that? Being watched with clamps on really heats me up, yanno? i never really thought i was one of those sluts, you know? Sure i do HNT’s but to have someone who is not my Master looking at me while i’m wearing titty chains should not be a turn on.

Should it?

my breathing is deepening, my tits rising and falling as i start to feel the pain building. i breathe through it, trying to find, as subsister sin calls it, my pain-groove.

“Some light and fluffy things on your blog lately, my dear little slut” the Doctor finally breaks his silence.

i nod. “yes, Doc. i’m newly collared, and so fucking…oops ‘scuse me…so amazingly happy.  i guess it shows in my writing.”

He makes that annoying ‘hmmmm’ sound again, jots some notes on his laptop.

And more notes.

And still more notes.

What the hell did i say that was that revealing? Maybe, maybe he’s placing his pizza order online, and can’t decide between anchovies and pepperoni?

“Punishment.”

oh. He’s tricky, Doc Strangeguy. Throwing a new word out like that. Gosh my tits are hurting now. i look down to make sure they’ve not ignited.

i think about ‘cheating’…yanno, i can see where this is going to go…and the Japanese clover clamps are hell. i’ve never even worn them and i know they are hell. i’ve seen how they pinch tight on those pics at the toy sites online, seen them in porn shots, and heard sin describe the almost-indescribable pain of them.

So i look at the nipple suckers.

His brows rise.

He doesn’t say a word, but i can feel his “oh reallly?”

i touch the clovers.

“Good girl,” he says, his face inscrutable. They must have a class for that too, the inscrutable expression class.

“Times up.” He crosses to the me, and unfastens the clamps.

“EGADS!” i yelp as he unceremoniously pulls them off.

“Darker stuff this week, eh?” and he laughs.

just a little bit.

but i heard it.

Sheets

She bent over the bed, tugging at the stubborn corner pocket of the fitted sheet. Fucking thing always got stuck half-way over, and she always had to crawl up the bed to wrest it into position.

She always tried to do it the “easy” way, throwing the corner over the edge and tugging the sides of the sheet. Always wound up, hands and knees, fighting to get the third corner over and tightly down.

He stood leaning against the door frame, watching the soft cotton of her baby-blue panties snug up tight around her ass as she crawled up the bed. His oversized plaid shirt, flannel flocking long ago worn away, hung loose on her, and he caught interesting glimpses of pale flesh as she moved.

She made little annoyed sounds under her breath, half-formed words of complaint and protest.

And she swore at the sheet.

She was so fucking cute, he thought, though his cock thought longer, stronger, harder thoughts about her.

His cock envisioned him striding across the room, pressing his hand to the center of her back, right between her shoulders so she could not straighten up, and holding her there.

Down, vulnerable, accessible.

Her holes open and available for use.

He was standing beside the bed as she started to arch up, stretching her back. He didn’t remember crossing the room. His hands pressed her hard, down.

She gasped with the sudden, unexpected force of His hands upon her.  She froze, prey obeying instinct.

His free hand clawed at the panties that delineated her nether curves.  Pushing the cotton aside, He roughly fingered her cunt. She moaned and cried out. Not wet, not yet.

He’d startled her when she was doing fucking housework, was her first thought. She was too busy for this, for now. She had to finish this and get onto the kids’ rooms before they got home from school, and ..and…

His fingers continued probing her pussy, the wetness growing, dewing her channel, his now rampant cock whispering of dark caverns taken roughly.

His fingers pulled out and she knew a moment of relief. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, words dying in her throat as she saw the look on his face.

Feral.

Hungry.

His cock went halfway on the first thrust, his knees spread to lend him purchase, his hands moving to her hips as his rocked, pistoning his hard shaft deeper into her well.

He saw, through the red haze of his lust, the look of shock on her face. To be taken this way, so raw, unleashed the last of the lock  on his control and he began pumping harder, faster, deeper.

Her eyes shut, her chin pressed into her shoulder as she became immobile with her growing lust.

He’d never used her quite this way before. They’d explored a bit of darker sex play over the years, but this…this was different. His hands caressed her round belly, soft with middle-age, soft from bearing his sprouted seed, once, twice, three times.  The body remembered, and he remembered as he touched each inch of her.

His cock, thick and full, plowed into her, thrusting with a vigor that surprised them both. Her head fell to the mattress, her fingers fisting in the half-attached sheet as a steady moan slid from her half-open mouth.

Seeing her this way, heavy-lidded, and overcome with her own lust, feeling the wetness that slurped with every thrust in, and leaked down her thighs with every withdrawal inspired his lust.

His hand reached down, pulling her head up by her hair, arching her back, freeing her tits to his grasping fingers. He played her nipples, plucking them like ripe fruits, twisting and pulling, and forcing her to arch high, higher as the pain in her tits danced with the pleasure of her pussy.

Lovers for a lifetime, he knew her signs, knew she was coming, felt the welcoming squeezes from her inner muscles. When she would have collapsed to the mattress, spent, he kept her up by his hands on her tits, pulling at her nipples, making her cry out as the sensitive buds under his hands tightened.

He fucked. He fucked hard, deep, pumping steadily. He felt the need growing, the slow boil in his balls, the tightness pulling him harder and harder…yet he continued to take, to give, to dive again and again into her welcoming heat.

He felt her begin to tremble and writhe, and urged another orgasm from her. His hand left her nipple, and searched for her swollen clit. It reached out to his questing fingers, and he rubbed and tugged the sensitive button, as she began growling, mewling, moaning.

She came, came again, uncertain then, or later, whether it was many orgasms or one long, rolling crescendo.  Her heart was beating a mad rhythm in her chest, his fingers doing wicked and wonderful things to her nipple, her clit, and pleasure and pain were braided so inextricably that she thought she might die if he stopped…and might if he continued.

He felt the mad rushing of his seed begin its meteoric rise through his shaft, felt the pulsing thrust as it hurtled through the head, gushed through the little hole and geysered deeply inside of his wife’s pussy.

His eyes closed, his hands grabbed at her hips like a drowning man clings to a life vest, the veins in his neck thick and pulsing, even as his cock was thickly pulsing deep inside her belly. His head was arched back, primal man in lust, in release.

When it was done, they collapsed together in a tangle of arms and legs, breathing through raw throats, breath rasping in unison. He gathered her close, pulling them, spoon-like, into the tangle of fresh sheets.

Fucktoy, (ch 4-fini)

She woke first the next morning. Her hair was matted and sticky, her hands still bound in the rope her Master had wrapped them in. They’d both been pretty wasted when they’d passed out.

Sex-drunk, she thought with a smile.

She smelled. Sex and sweat were great in the moment, but in the hard light of morning? Not so much. And she had a gross taste in her mouth. Cum and beer. Definitely not a winning combination.

She moved a bit, wincing. Bruises on arms, legs, tits. Her pussy sore and tender. He’d fucked her pussy with cock and dildo last night, fucked her ass that way too.

Wanted her to feel “double-stuffed” like a cookie. Ha ha wasn’t that clever of him.

He’d been horny, wild for sex by the time they got home. He’d pinched her tits with His fingers until she fell to her knees in homage. Tears coursed down her face as he cruelly twisted them, then lifted her back to her feet by them.

He’d shoved her back to the bed, hard. Falling on her, his mouth bit into tender flesh, first biting her tits, nipping her nipples sharply, and then biting down her belly.

He loved the taste of pussy, and she was so soaked that He sucked her delightedly. And bit. He bit pussy lips and inner lips, and attacked her clit voraciously, a Master starved for his slut. Watching the other men at the bar play with her had heightened his need for her, it seemed.

Or perhaps He was merely restating His claim on her flesh. Whichever it was, she had been deeply, ruthlessly pushed into many orgasms, and fucked brainless.

She felt Him stirring and rubbed her cheek on his arm. He’d held her tightly through the night.

**********

He woke with his cock full and hard. Morning wood but this time, lust. He’d been up at 4 to release his piss, this was more relentless need burning in his gut.

His.

He’d enjoyed sharing her, watching her be objectified, holes to be present for “any Mans” satiety.

But.

She was also His. His cock throbbed, and he positioned it between her legs, and slipped his hips forward, fucking into her slit. The head of his cock butted against her closed thighs, which pressed him hard against her clit.

She moaned.

Fuckin’ slut was awake! He bit her neck, growling a feral “good morning fuckslut” at her. She moaned arching her back and neck, angling for more. Greedy lil whore! He bit harder, as his hips bucked slowly against her ass, gently sliding his shaft through her wetting channel.

He felt her cuntlips swell and cradle his dick. He wanted in. He slipped his left hand down and positioned his cock at her hole and shoved.

She grunted with the unexpected entry.

“Fuck it, whore” he growled in her ear, reaching up and grabbing her tit. He squished and moulded her breast, contorted her nipples.  She wiggled and writhed trying to get into a position to move her hips back and forth and fuck him. He didn’t make it easy. He wanted her to struggle, to work for this.

She found a rhythm, pulling and pushing against his rigid rod. He was happy with her efforts. But this morning he wanted more. He pulled away, and left her on the bed.

She turned and watched him digging in the closet. She saw the heavy-duty clamps with dread. Oh. Gods. She fucking hated that pair.

Which of course, he knew. The look in his eye let her know he was reclaiming her. Taking her body, her mind, her pain, her sex. The clamps bit hard. And she cried out.

“pleassseeee Master….gawwwwd” as He pulled on the chain. He pushed and moved her on the bed until her face was buried in the mattress and her ass was pointing up.

She felt the first slap on her ass, as her tits were ground, clamped and on fire with pain, into the bed. The pain of His spanking helped to change her focus from her throbbing nipples, at least.

There was a whistle sound a brief second before the sharp sting of the rattan cane strike registered. OMFG! He stroked up one asscheek, down the other. Pain bloomed in fast response, and she was moaning and crying into the mattress. She didn’t beg for mercy, for she  knew none would come.

When her ass was glowing and striped, she felt his fingers in her cunt.

“You think you hate this, cunt, but your hole says otherwise. You are so fucking wet.”

The soft slurping sounds of his fingers moving in her hole were evidence that she was turned on.

Still getting his cock in her ass was a shock. No warning, no warm up, nothing but dick.

He sawed into her ass, then pushed into her pussy. He gave her permission to cum. Then switched to her ass and made her cum again as he pulled on her clit.

“I know you feel that juice brewing in your belly, even while my dick takes and stretches your poop hole, whore…”

He said those things to add to her humiliation, she knew, and she flushed with embarrassment. And she came again, harder than before.

Her pussy clenched tight and hard, and he could feel it even buried deeply in her asshole. He felt his own sex juice begin to boil. It wasn’t long before his own explosion pushed rope after rope of his seed into her tailpipe.

He pulled out of her, rolled her over, and released her hands.

“Breakfast is served, slut.” He said with a smile. “Breakfast for my fucktoy…and it’s all nice and warm.”

She ate. Fingerful by fingerful, she scooped and lapped at His seed as it leaked from her asshole. It wasn’t the cum that really fed her.

It was simply being His.

~~fini~~

~Stranger~ 4.

i would like to thank Will Crimson from Erotic Writers Blog for being my co-writer for Chapter 4 (and hopefully, the ensuing chapters). He has added invaluable male perspective as the Master’s voice…thank You, Will…your notes add depth to the music of this dance…~nilla~

The package sat in the middle of her bed, her phone beside it. Looking at it, loving the symbolism of it, she slowly disrobed. Her sweater was slowly unbuttoned, the simple cotton blouse under it following in its wake. With a short zziippp, her skirt was relaxed to fall in a pool around slender ankles.

Her feet were bare, her sandals sitting downstairs by her door as was her way.

Clad in bra and panties, simple white cotton, she stood for a moment of reverie. She wrapped her arms around herself, but couldn’t quite capture the feeling of enclosure as He had.

She slid one strap down, then the other, imagining Him there, sitting on her bed, watching. The response was immediate. Her nipples flared with sudden heat, her pussy swelled and wetted.

Egads she was such a slut!

Reaching behind her, she unclasped the hooks and let the bra fall to the floor. Hooking her thumbs in the sides of her panties, she shifted her hips, left, then right, while slowly pressing downward.

Inch by slow inch she lowered her underwear, making even simple and servicable, sensual. At last, clad only in her flesh, she stepped free of the pile of her garments, and knelt.

The moment that her knees touched the floor, her phone chimed with His text tone.

you are a lovely slut. I am proud of you for your strength of character.  Send Me your phone number, now. Do NOT open the package.

She read the message twice. Well, she’d already gone to meet Him, what harm was it now, in giving Him her phone number? She texted her number, only her number.

She counted slowly to 20. Her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello…Sir…?” His voice was all she’d imagined, deep, rich, husky.

“Hello Sir.” Her voice was strong, fearless. Certain.

“Good girl. I want you to tell me what you look like right now. What you are wearing, doing..”

And she did. She told Him of her striptease for Him, or more accurately, for the gift on the bed. Of her curiosity for the gift. Of her taking time to kneel and focus on Him and her thoughts about how things were unfolding.

She could almost hear Him smile. She’d pleased Him, she could tell, even before He spoke another word.
“Very good. You may open the package.”

She did. It wasn’t easy, but the more difficult it was, the more she
wanted to. She tore. She pulled. She cut. And when six, sealed pink
envelopes fell out, she swore she could almost hear His quiet
laughter, more like a rumble.They were pink. They were ridiculous and floral. A butt plug with a red bow tumbled to the floor.

“Do you like my presents?”

“Sir?”

“They’re for me.” He said. “They’re  presents for me. They’re surprises.  For me. Thank you. You’re so good to me. I can’t wait to receive them.”

She was a bit confused. She drew a deep breath as his words, rich and thrilling, continued to pour into her ear. She felt her pussy grow wetter with every syllable He uttered.

“I’m going to tell you what’s in each one of them. In one is a blow
job, for Him, anywhere, anytime, collectible upon opening the
envelope. In another you will bend over to be mounted by Him,
collectible upon receipt, at any time or any place. In another envelope you will be instructed to wear a butterfly and Dildo as you escort Him to a place of his choosing, but you will not be permitted to come until He instructs you to do so.”

She shivered, with arousal, with anticipation. Her pussy throbbed thickly between her legs, her nipples were so hard they ached.  So humiliating. So arousing.

“The next present you will give to Me, is wearing the outfit I have selected for you, and attending an event in our special community. The envelope for this gift  contains the tickets for this event. The outfit will arrive at the proper time.”

She swallowed. She’d not gone to many of the local D/s events. She had gone to a munch one time, with the second Dom she had played with, and went to a rope event stag. There was a wide, wide range of clothing for subs at those events.  She wondered how she would handle being naked with a collar, if thats what He chose for her. Her pussy trembled. How could He turn her on this hard, this fast?

“The fifth packet contains a red ribbon. You will wear this around your lovely neck the next time we meet. And the last envelope contains your orgasm schedule. You are very turned on, little one, are you not?”

“Yes Sir, i am very turned on.”

“Good, I like knowing that you respond so well to me. NO orgasm tonight, however, as I rather enjoy the thought of your wet pussy throbbing through the night, keeping me close in your thoughts.”

“Now then, let’s get to the last item from the box, a little “bonus”…

His voice dropped into that husky laugh that jolted straight to her pussy.

“The butt plug with the little bow is something you shall wear when
you bring me my surprises.”

She wondered, exactly, when that would happen.

Fucktoy (pt3)

She straddled the Cowboys lap, facing her Master. She felt his thick hard hands grabbing her hips, pulling her ass back against his belly. She could also feel the thickness of his cock pressing against her butt. Her eyes met those of her Master across the table.

Half-hidden in the gloomy corner, she felt them boring into hers, reveling and absorbing her every reaction.  Cowboys right hand came up under her blouse, fondling her right tit, while his left slid over her hip and up under the minuscule skirt she wore. His rough and calloused forefinger rubbed her slit and he chuckled aloud.

“This shore do be a wet cunny here, Mister. Thinkin’ I’d like to give yor gal a lil finger action. Whadda ya think?” His fingers pinched against her nipple hard, and she moaned low in her throat. Her pussy clamoured for attention. Oh, gawd. Oh, gawd! She needed to be fucked so badly!

She no longer noticed the crowded room, the sad excuse for music playing on the other side of the room; nothing existed now but her Master across the table, and the raw, craven need that rumbled in her cunt.

She shifted her hips a bit, rubbing against the probing finger enticingly.

Masters brow raised fractionally and she froze. He smiled. His control of the situation, of her actions and Cowboy’s was immense. She knew it fed Him plenty to be able to create the dance-tune they moved to. She mouthed to him “please, Master”, hoping that He would relent.

He shook His head, no.

She tried to not roll her eyes, a very rude response, but her pussy was screaming. She mouthed again…”please, Master”, her eyes begging, pleading.

Cowboys finger had found her sex button and had begun rubbing it. Round and round, then across it, hard and rough. There was no finesse to his groping, no pattern, and she ground her hips down when her Master gave a slight, nodding assent.

“May i cum, please Master?” she said, her voice whisper quiet.

“Cowboy, that slut on your lap wants to cum all over your hand. How do you feel about that? ”  Master was the epitome of sincerity.

“Shore she can, c’mon lil filly, let ‘er rip…”

As the orgasm rolled through her, he shoved three fingers up inside of her as he separated his legs, opening her wider. She was lost in the grip of a powerful cum, feeling it splashing from her pussy, wetting his fingers, his hand as he shoved his thick, work-toughened fingers up her fuckhole.  She wanted more, more of this rough handed dude. She ground down, her orgasm rolling through her.

Spent, she would have fallen forward, but for the hand holding her up by her tit.

“Thank you Master, and thank you, Sir,” she murmured, as her head fell back against Cowboys shoulder.

“Oh, but you are not done yet, little fucktoy,” her Master said. “Get your ass down there between our friends legs and clean up. Clean up his fingers, his hand, and his jeans. You suck that pussy cum right off that denim, got me, slut?”

Silently she nodded. Sliding off Cowboys lap, she knelt on the floor between his legs, taking his hand in hers and guiding it to her mouth.

She felt the wetness on the floor and knew it to be her own juices that she was kneeling in. She had a moments gratitude that He’d not made her lick it up from the disgustingly dirty floor. She sucked Cowboys fingers clean, one at a time, and lapped at the webbing between.

She licked his palm, the back of his hand, until all traces of her juice were removed. He moaned as she slowly pulled her lips from his fingers.  Finding the big wet spot on his jeans,  she placed her lips upon it and began sucking and licking it.

His hand came down on her head, holding her against his crotch as he moaned once again.

“GAWD” he grated out, his head thrown back, teeth clenched,  even as he pressed her harder  into his groin,  overwhelmed by the sensation of her mouth, and the teasing rasping as her lapping tongue stroked across the wet denim.

“Fuckin’ A, friend, i shore do hope that mouth gets put to more use, and soon!!”

“Soon enough, my friend,” He reassured Cowboy.  “She knows she needs to clean up first. Then we’ll see what other goodies she can offer to you.”

She felt Masters eyes on the back of her head as she worked. Her pussy throbbed.

She wondered exactly what ‘goodies’ He was talking about.

She didn’t have long to wait.

*** *** ***

Master bid her to rise, and drink her beer. She rose, carefully, her knees aching from kneeling so long.

She sipped at the beer, made a face.

“Don’t dawdle,” Master ordered, gesturing for her to drink up. She grimaced, then chugged down the last of the vile stuff. He took a hank of hair, and pushed her forward towards the bar’s exit sign, glowing a lurid neon red in the dark and smokey room.

He bobbed his head towards the older fellow who’d been watching the action here at this table for the last hour, and Cowboy. The age-old  gesture was universally known, and the two men rose and began to move towards the exit.

His slut was quiet, and He felt the shiver run through her. She knew He wasn’t done yet.

Smart cunt.

He’d parked the truck purposely ’round back, where the trees broke the parking lot light into dense shadow.  He popped the back open, and turning her to face Him, he lifted her up onto the tailgate.

She saw that company had come to visit right off. Her gaze flew to His face. Before she could open her mouth, He told her gruffly to shut the fuck up.

She fell silent but He saw the worry. The nerves. And the lust. She could hide it from many, but not Him. This was pure fantasy come to life for her.

And Him.

***************

The three men gathered around her in the back of the truck. He’d put down boards and a sponge mat earlier today, knowing that His own knees weren’t up for much hard surface.

“G’on and make her nekkid,” He said, watching as Cowboy, and their new guest, Blake, began touching her avidly. He reached up to the corner, and grabbed his rope, and took her hands. He wound it round her wrists, between her hands, over her hands, effectively embalming her fingers. He tied off the rope tightly over her head as she lay stretched out and bare.

They’d solved the problem of the blouse by ripping it from her, using Cowboys knife to help part reluctant seams.

Oh, this just got better and better.

He drew a condom from his back pocket, handed it to Blake, who grinned.

“Like a man who comes prepared,” he laughed as he tore open the foil pack and rolled the rubber over his dick. “Any special order You want this in?” he asked.

He shook his head. He wanted to see how it all played out first.

“I’m going to watch you two for a while.”

“Drinkin’ it all in, eh? She’s a fine lookin’ whore.” Blake slapped her belly. “On your knees, cunt. Oh, quit whinin, you’ll figure it out.” He spoke curtly as she strugged to obey with her hands tied to the crossbar.

Cowboy crawled up to her head and took her head in his hands, his stiff cock pulsing visibly. “I’ma gonna use this lil whore’s pie hole, but good…” and he slid  his pole between her lips.

“Fight my cock, you dirty lil whore,” he ordered. She tried to clamp her mouth shut and he shoved hard against her lips. She felt and tasted the drop of precum that lubed against her lips, felt her teeth cut at the inside of her lip as he battered her mouth.

At the same time, she felt the other strangers fingers probing her wet pussy, smearing her juice up to her asshole. Gawd…he was going to fuck her asshole?! She wanted to yell, to cry to her Master, but she’d been told to obey and she was so well-trained.

A thick finger poked into her tailpipe.

She moaned, and Cowboy pressed hard against her lips, popping the head of his dick into her mouth. She thought fleetingly of struggle, even knowing it was impossible; but as Cowboys cock filled her mouth, pressed toward the back of her throat, all she could focus on was breathing.

He took advantage of that,  sliding  a second finger into her ass. Pushing, stretching, twisting, he loosened her reluctant butthole. In one fluid, forceful motion, he slid his fingers out and his cock in. He might have been an older guy, but he had experience on his side, and his cock slid home in two strokes.

She moaned around the cock in her throat, making Cowboy groan. “oh HOT baby, so fuckin’ hot, your lil whore mouth, cm’mmmmmmon whore, suck it suck it.” He pulled out, slamming roughly back into her face, his fingers tangled in her hair. Spit glued hair to her cheeks, irritating. She could barely breathe, and her ass was on fire as she was taken from opposite ends, simultaneously.

Her Master was nearby, she knew, but she trembled from the stranger fucking. Fantasy blurred under realities relentless  onslaught. Her ass stretched, accepting, her throat gagged, but her tongue lapped each time the shaft in her mouth pulled out.

And she needed to cum.

His voice surrounded her.

“My fuckin’ lil whore, look at you, taking two strange dicks in your slutty dirty holes. My dirty nasty whore, look at you….you need to cum all over the place don’t you, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then cum, whore, cum for your Master!”

She spurted, her pussy convulsing, as tears of relief, pain, ecstasy, lust coursed down her face.

When they were done, they collapsed into a pile of mixed bodies.

He helped their guests out of the truck, watching them weave their way back into the bar.

He watched as they stopped to collect the drunk who had collapsed. Poor bastard, wait until they told him what he’d missed out on.

He untied her hands from the rod in the truck, but kept them bound. He hefted her over his shoulder, and pushed her into the passenger seat of the truck.

Putting the truck into gear, he headed home with a big smile on his face.

“Daddy’s turn next, slut,” He crooned at her. She was a delightful mess, makeup in ruins, body bare and showing signs of bruises already.

She was so fucking perfect!

 

~Stranger~ 3.

She knew her instructions. He’d been very explicit in His emails. He would come to her, they would have time together, then He would go. She must remain where He left her until she counted to 99. Then she was free to go.

Slowly she counted in her head.

97

98

99

Drawing a deep breath, she opened her eyes, and looked around. A sanitation worker swept cigarette butts and the detritus of the day from around the edge of the Pool, tourists snapped pics of the War Memorial, but she didn’t catch His scent again.

She swallowed down the disappointment.

The feeling of His arms around her had been thrilling, despite the brevity. So strong. So tall. He’d rested His head easily upon hers. His scent was pure male.

Her reverie was broken by the ringtone of her phone, His tone. Scrabbling in her sweater pocket, she pulled it out, saw the New MSG flash across her screen.

look in yr basket

**** ***** ****

He watched her from the back corner of the Memorial garden. Hidden from her sight by a bowing Yew, He watched her, could almost hear her counting, then looking around for Him.

Damn she made Him smile. Dangerous.

He sent the text as she had turned to go back down the steps. He watched her fumble for her phone, and enjoyed that she was as stirred by Him as he was with her. Again she scanned the area, but he remained invisible to her.

He smiled as He watched her dig through her little basket. Then she found His gift.  Wrapped in crimson paper, tied with black silk cord, He wondered if she would attempt to open it there, or if she would show restraint until she returned home.

It was, in essence, a testing of her patience. Delayed gratification was often the role of the sub…unless it was His will to be otherwise.  She had yet to serve a Master, preferring, she had told him, to ‘play the field’ as she explored the wide vista’s of the D/s community. It was all relatively new to her, she’d explained further, since she’d come late to the lifestyle.

He hoped she had reasonable expectations. That she would fully understand and embrace the role of a submissive. He had no issues with training a girl to His wants, His rules, His desires, but her commitment must come first, else there would be no relationship.

He continued to watch as she turned the packet over in her hands, lifting it to her ear and shaking it.

It was no matter, He’d wrapped it well and she would have no idea what lay inside until she opened it.

**** ***** ****

She held the gift in the palm of her hand, almost weighing it. Oh, it carried weight, but far more than the mere ounces that sat upon her hand.

This was a surprise. She scanned the grounds again, seeing nothing, but still feeling His presence. She put the packet into her pocket. Though she wasn’t far from home, she did not want to chance being mugged and losing the damned thing.

Whatever it was.

For sure she was NOT going to open it on the Mall. My gosh, what if a butt plug fell out? Though the package was curiously flat for that. Still. Anal beads coiled inside the box would be equally embarrassing.  And she wanted the anticipation to build. To place it on her bed, and slowly strip to skin, to kneel for a time in front of the box, before she finally, slowly, opened it.

She tucked her basket into the crook of her elbow, and sent Him a text.

Where are You? I know You are here.

She hit ‘send’.

**** ***** ****

He felt the buzz in His pocket seconds after He’d watched her type out a short message. He read her query with a smile. She’d passed His first three tests beautifully.

He decided to indulge her.

He stepped clear of the sheltering yew, and stood near one of the lights that illuminated the Memorial.

**** ***** ****

She caught movement across the pool at the edge of the Memorial Garden. A tall man stepped out of the garden, and for a moment, was illuminated, gilded, by the golden light. Her breath caught at the juxtaposition…the bright golden glow, and His darkness. She couldn’t see Him, not really, from this distance, but He exuded …power.

Her nipples rose, and pussy wet thinking of those arms, the arms of a Stranger, holding her tightly. Thinking of His flesh covering her, His hands squeezing her tender bits, His tools and toys come to bear upon her.

For all this had been promised, should she pass His ‘trials’…

Her phone chimed, and she looked down at the message light. Thumbing the button, she saw His note:

good girl

When she looked up, He was gone.

 

 

HNT….So i said…..

 

He took a ton of pics this time. A ton. In all my shoes. In many positions. He started to take this one, the bright white comforter offsetting my lovely RFM shoes….

…so i said, “Master, if You’re going to take a picture of my ass, wouldn’t it be better if it wasn’t so blazingly white?”

What was i thinking?

He got a gleam in His eye. He got that smile on His face. You know, that smile.  He strolled to the dresser and scooped it up. Turned to me and gave me The Look.  The “oh-nilla-you-silly-little-slut” look.

He waved my new hairbrush in the air, as if it was a rapier.

The new brush with the comfort grip handle.  i’d gotten it to detangle my hair after one of our playdays. Blindfolds are hell on long hair!

The sweet pink hairbrush  i oh-so-stoopidly *showed* Him when i was unpacking my bag. The one that made that smile dance across His sexy mouth, and His eyebrows raise at the endless possibilities of The Brush. The one with the big square back, and a hundred or more pink-tipped bristles.

Yeah, that one.

He wacked my ass a buncha buncha times with it.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. And i was *posing* when He hit me, the big meanie…”hands over your face nilla” He ordered.  Over my face. Never saw it, but knew it was comin’….

He took the pic once i’d reached down to be sure my ass wasn’t really on fire. The things i do for my blog.

 

~Stranger~ 2.

She stood exactly where He had asked her to. The light had leached out of the day, yet the  glow from the Lincoln Memorial washed around her, casting a nimbus around her.

She was breathtaking. She stood, still, silent, eyes closed, holding her little basket.

He was reminded, suddenly, of Little Red Riding Hood. Well, no cloak, nor hood, but the innocence was there.  He’d thought her a tasty morsel the first time He’d seen her, alone at the Club. He’d found out about her of course; DC was nothing if not a welter of information about people.

He’d been honest with her in His email, that He’d seen her, wanted to play, but she’d gone from the Club before He could catch up to her. Damned Darla, hanging on Him like some kind of lust-leech.  She sucked the life right out of a man, with her constant whining, constant demands.  Part time sub, full-time pain in the ass, he mused with a grimace.  And no longer His problem. He pushed that aside, and took in the beauty and grace standing poised. Waiting. Wanting.  Just as He had waited, and wanted for some time.

This girl, this woman connected to Him. How, He wasn’t sure. Perhaps a short romp with her would appease His inexplicable wanting. He liked new. He liked different. She was both.

His shoes made no sound as He approached her, yet her head rose fractionally, and her nose flared. He watched the deepening of her breath, the rapid rise and fall of tits.

Fucking grade A tits, at that. Not always the first thing He noticed in a sub, but, it was hard not to with this one.

Her ass was nicely rounded too. He really enjoyed a woman with some meat on her bones. Not for Him the emaciated bird-women from television. Oh, they were pretty, and caught the eye, for a moment. But He really enjoyed laying on a woman’s soft and curvy body, feeling the flesh yield under His hardness.

He drew one finger across her shoulder, down her arm.

No words, not yet. Just this small touch. To let her know she was no longer alone, had been spotted as prey, and was about to be consumed. His mouth watered. Her scent was pure woman. Her hair curled enchantingly down her back, and His fingers yearned to bury deeply into the curling mass, pull back her head, bare her throat to His hunger.

Not here.

He was always about timing. The time was not yet met for this. He chose to build the anticipation, the want, rather than simply diving headfirst into her. He wanted to raise her need. He wanted to anticipate His.

He pressed against her back, slipping His left arm around her waist, pressing His palm against her belly, pressing her back into Him. Her butt pressed into His groin, goading His cock to life.  Her little gasp informed Him that she felt His rising ardor.

Yet He spoke not a word to her. Not yet ready to exchange voice. Not yet ready to press onward. Not yet.

His right hand slipped into His pocket, withdrew the small package, and deftly slipped it into her basket. He encircled her then, His arms full around her, hugging her against Him, His head resting against the top of hers. He drew in her scent, again and again, holding silence as purposely as He held her.

And then He released her. Stepped away, and slipped off into the night.

 

Note to self…..

When the Boss says “nilla, do not shave your pussy, because I will do it the next time we are together” He was NOT joking. And when one sends one’s Master a text *after the fact* and says “btw Master, You *were* joking about that whole shaving thing, right?” one should expect ones Master to not be terribly happy about that.

Which, of course, He wasn’t.

my bad.

and now the punishment for my crime?

i have to write some smut today, and wear clamps at all times that  i write…and not just tonight (which is my usual task).  He knows i have several stories to write. He wants me to write them. Strongly encourages me to write them.

my bad.

Your good smut.