An Admission of Guilt….

*big sigh*

i so truly hate fucking up. And when it is totally, completely avoidable? Yeah. It’s official:   i’ve  turned in my “perfect subbie” card…i always knew i wasn’t really a member of that club….and now i’ve gone and proven it once more.

Got to go back a few weeks… Back to when i’ve “finished” my diet, happy with the 40 pounds i lost. And had a party…wooot wooott…no more diet…Rut Ro. Most of my party involved my old nemesis, ice cream. There were other friends who came  along too, namely Mr. Potato Chip, and Ms. Tortilla Chip. And it was a party that didn’t seem to end…

the upshot is that i  gained 5 pounds back.

EEEK…!

and i knew i needed to draw a line, get back to the discipline that got me here coz there is NO FUCKING WAY i’m going back down that road. i just am not gonna go.

What is a submissive to do, but turn to her Master?  He takes his ownership most seriously. After some thought, He’s limited me to three small treats a week. And NO potato chips.

Did you see it? the loophole? i’m telling you here and now, if you leave a food fanatic a loophole, we’re just gonna find it, drive our truck through it and run…

And guess who came to party? Riiiiight. Ms. Tortilla Chip. And yes, i did tell him about it.

After.

Rather than *going* to Him.

Before.

Bad move. Stoooopid move.  Since it was only a small mishap, (140 cal bag, thank goodness) i only had to sacrifice one of my three treats. i’d already had one, and then chose to have my second allowed treat early.

Which was fine. i was fine. Down two pounds my first week! Woot!

And then i opened the glass jar on the table. How was *i* to know that yet another  old friend had come to call? A friend i’ve not seen here in 2 years?

Mr. Cadbury Mini Egg.

OMFG.

One would have been bad. One would have gotten me a verbal *smack*, for going over my allotted treats. But would have (likely) been quickly forgiven.

Instead, i ate nine.

142.5 calories.

Now, i’ll grant you, that’s not a lot of calories, and easily burned off in my walking time. But really it’s not *about* the calories this time, is it?

i’ve spent the better part of today (Friday) feeling very bad. Not crushed, mind you. He was very careful not to crush me. But i’ve been soundly remonstrated. Because, His manner with me is light, and i mistook “light” as “not worried about my transgression”…which was just simply not the case.

He was greatly unhappy about it.

i disrespected Him, His rules for me, and that is the crux of the issue.

NOT the calories.

NOT the chocolate.

NOT the overage of the treat itself.

But my cavalier attitude about His rules. My rules.

i’ve spent the day in contemplation. Losing the respect of your Master for a day tends to snap one back into supreme focus, and that has certainly been the case. i’ve apologized, certainly. i’ve been treated kindly, but firmly, and somewhat ignored, which i hate.

Despite being together for almost 18 months, we’re still learning each other. i’ve learned that when He’s mad, He doesn’t yell…His voice gets silky. He’s learned that i have issues regarding self-discipline.  i’ve learned that when He makes a rule…He means it, and i shouldn’t push back on it.

i’ve begun to really feel the chains of my submission, and i’m happy they are there, and i embrace them…and when i dishonor them, dishonor Him…they get pretty fucking heavy.

So i will sit, hands under my ass, working hard to prove to Him that i *am* His “good girl” once more. That His property has enough self-respect for herself to take good care of His property….a convoluted way of saying, when i eat badly, treat my body badly, don’t exercise, i can potentially damage His property.

i wouldn’t do that if i borrowed something from a friend, i’d treat it carefully, and return it in good shape.

Now i just need to turn that same kind of care to myself…and show Master that i can, and will take care of what is for now and always, His property.

The Irascible Matt Foxx Ch. 4

Dear Friends,

its been awhile since we’ve seen the reclusive artist Foxx, and the intrepid reporter who has come from town to interview him. Winter has passed, and spring is slowly coming to the mountains….

She leaned out over the balcony railing. From here she could hear the pines soughing in the restless wind. Eventually it would make its way up here and tousle her hair and tease at her bare flesh. But for now, she enjoyed the serenity as dawn crept over the mountains.

She had been Master’s toy for almost half a year. She still smiled when she thought of their first meeting, when her car had slid off the access road and into one of these sentinel pines. He’d been pretty pissy  that day, but it had also begun an adventure which had a new chapter nearly every day. He was a piece of work, the Artist Foxx, and sometimes, she could hardly believe that He had chosen her. She’d come to write a story on Him for the local paper, a story which had gotten great reviews and been picked up the UP.

He’d been proud of her, to be sure, and continued to support her endeavors. He wanted her to branch out, to stir her creative juices and settle into working on her book, but she wasn’t quite there. He had enough confidence in her, but she didn’t. Not yet, at any rate.

The sliding door behind her opened with a soft sound. She felt Him move up behind her, savored his warmth against her chilly flesh.

“You’re cold, little one,” He admonished.

“Not terribly, and not now that You’re here,” she smiled up at him.  “You’re up pretty early, Master,” she said, taking in his half-dressed state. His blue-plaid shirt hung open, thrown over his wrinkled undershirt .  He never slept in the buff as she did.

“never went to bed. The painting grabbed me by the throat and slapped me into it.”

She looked up and smiled. She’d fallen asleep after their  epic sexcapades last night, and had slid silently from the bed this morning to not wake him…and all the while He’d been in his studio!

“finished it, did you?” She grinned, taking in the stubble of beard on his face, the bits of paint on his battered sneakers. The scent of turpentine hung on him like other men wore cologne.

He grabbed her around the throat before she could duck away from the feral  look in his eyes. He was always horny after he finished a painting. He pinned her to the railing with his body, rubbing his stubble on her tender cheeks, her throat.

She moaned. It hurt and turned her switch to “full on” mode. His lips found and mated with hers, then went further, taking, possessing. His tongue dove into the depths of her mouth, and she was dying for air, dying for Him when he  finally released her mouth.

She had a fraction of a moment before she saw his control crack, at the same moment she heard his zipper sluice down with a metallic hiss.

He bent her over the railing and she clawed for purchase, fearful that this time she’d go sailing over. His hands biting into her hips notwithstanding, it was a long way down.

She stopped noticing the view when his hard shaft slid into her throbbing pussy.

A hand left her hip, grabbing at a thick wad of her hair. He pulled her head backwards, arching her spine and giving him greater depth to plunge into.

A plethora of sensations assailed her, the chill of the metal railing contrasted with the heat of his cock inside of her, the breeze blowing across her throbbing hard nipples, the painful pull of her hair and arch of her back. All coalesced into a whirling spiral of pain and lust. She couldn’t  move, only accept. She couldn’t participate, just be here. Be his vessel.

He pulled free of her sucking cunt before she could orgasm. His cock throbbed, and she felt the splatter of his cum as He grunted his release. He painted her back, her ass with his seed.

He stepped away, and she knew he was heading for his morning shower. She held onto the railing, panting. Turning her head, she looked over her shoulder as he spoke, trying to focus on his words, and not the need throbbing between her wet thighs.

“Later, slut. I like thinking of you, wanting. Pretty as a picture, too, painted by me.”

Gods he was  smug!

HNT 4-28-11 The Shoes Have It All Goin’ On

This pic was over on my other blog, i think, but since i’m soon to see my Master (so close and yet so far away!) (who, me, anxious??)….

…. i thought i’d show you mah shoes once more. A new outfit is in the planning for the next visit and Himself is promising more pix for all you pervie friends.

So i thought i’d take an informal poll today and see who likes which shoes best…these gorgeous “original” nilla-slut black n whites or…

the “newest” addition to Masters growing ‘nilla-shoe’ collection, the red strappy ones? You can see them close-up  in the header of the blog but i do have a fondness for this particular picture…*cheeky grin*…

and then there is this pair, which are not “mine” by virtue of His not purchasing them specifically for me, but dayam they are uberfuckinghawt….7 inch heels and worn only to lay down in, yanno? (this is the header for the Snow Blog)

so Happy Half-nekkid Thursday and don’t forget to vote for YOUR favorite shoe! (You’ll make Master smile, too!)

The Assistant pt 4

He  had led her carefully across the room, giving her the names of some of the items, but not much else.

Of course, the spanking bench was rather obvious, though she did wonder at the supposed allure of having one’s bottom paddled. She looked at, then quickly averted her eyes from, the neat row of assorted paddles.

No. Fucking. Way.

Yet, here she stood in front of the St. Andrews Cross, his hand fisted in her hair, the other carefully holding her hand.

And her body was electric with …she didn’t dare even think the word aloud. She wasn’t a kinky gal. She liked sex, sure. But normal sex, whatever that was. Wasn’t she too old to even think about this strange lifestyle.

For she saw, now, that it very much was a lifestyle, over and above the kink aspects of the sex.

As much as it was about sex, it was about the balance of control. The Dominant who guided his submissive through a scene, and the submissive who gave her, or in some cases, him self up into the care of their Dominant.

He said it was about power. She could see it. Feel it. He’d felt every inch in power as he had massaged her back there on the bench, and was still holding that power, as evidenced by his grasp on her hair…and her lack of complaint.

She had, somewhere along the line, given her control up to Him. She wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened, but it had.

He pushed her up against the cross. The center of the X was at her waist. He lifted her arms, and bid her to grasp the straps on each extended arm of the giant wooden device. She felt his hands on her right ankle, guiding her foot to the proper width.  Then she felt the tightening of a strap around the ankle, the steadiness of His hands as He worked silently.

She should have been quizzing him, that’s what reporters do. They ask questions and dig for answers. But for this time, it seemed as though silence was answering more than words were.

She gave herself up to the experience, just as she had when she first arrived, letting Him string her up in the suspension.  After all, wasn’t this just a different format? It still made her accessible…her thoughts stopped short at that point.

Accessible.

Her right ankle was attached now, and she felt him shift and move behind her. The press of his body heat through the thin silk of her slacks was palpable. A fast shiver ran through her body, and His hand ran up her inner leg.

“You’re very turned on by this.”

It was a statement, and it just hung there. She didn’t know how to answer that. To say ‘no’ would be an outright lie. She could smell herself, feel the wetness pooling against her panties as she stood, splay-legged, pegged to the bottom half of the cross.

He stood slowly, drawing his hands up her body, until he was pressed up behind her, body laying against hers, His hands cupping her hands.

He made no move to affix these straps to her wrists.

She could feel ….a myriad of things, really. His control of the situation, of her body, and in part, her mind. His hands snugged over hers, holding and controlling her physically. His body upon hers suggested sex, yes, but once again, power.

Without words He was saying “I’m in control here.”

He stepped back. She felt the loss of Him immediately. The weight of a Man was a precious thing, she found herself thinking, coping with the feelings that whirled through her. Ridiculous to be so snared, so tangled up.

She was here for a story, after all. She cleared her throat. She opened her mouth to speak, but He was ready for that, and slipped a ball gag between her lips. She didn’t fight it. Her mouth opened, her cheeks feeling the pinch of the bridle as He tightened the gag.

“You did say you wanted to try it all, little one,” he said with a smile in his voice.  He made a few final adjustments, making sure she could breath, but not speak, then stepped away.

Almost immediately she felt the drool begin to gather. Her tongue teased around the ball, but it was big, and took up more space than she would have thought. She couldn’t speak, could barely swallow, and she felt the first line of spit begin to string down from her parted mouth.

How fucking embarrassing was that?

The first slap  against her ass caught her unaware.

“Flogger. Many leather ‘fingers’. Depending on how I use it, you’ll feel gentle pain, or if I choose, more intense sensations.”

He slapped again, not too hard, and she felt the sting. It hit her ass, and cupped around to her hip.

A very sharp blow in the same spot made her rise up a bit, gripping the leather straps and attempting to ‘get away’.

uh. not.

She moaned. The blow had slapped against her sounding like a rainstick, then the sting had blossomed into a burning heat. Her ass stung.

And her pussy wet further.

Another blow of the flogger on her lower back, then higher. These were softer, but still had impact. She moaned, and a long thick stream of drool flowed from her mouth. She could see the silvery trail of it down where it attached itself to her tee-shirt at the breast.

It made a fat, wet circle as the spit gathered there, absorbed by the soft cotton.

*WHOMP*

She cried out as that harsh blow struck against her ass and upper thigh. More soft blows fell upon her, His rhythm unsteady, incomprehensible.

It seemed that every time she started to relax into it, He’d strike her one of those heavy, pain-filled blows.

She felt the sticky wetness as the silk of her pants stuck to her left inner thigh. She saw the unending, gleaming trail of spit leaking from her gagged lips.

She was a sticky wet mess at both ends. It was kind of gross.

And a hell of a turn-on.

The Letter from a Devoted Reader

I occasionally get direct email from a reader. When i do, it is always a special thing to me. I love getting mail! Who doesn’t really?It means that someone took the time to craft their thoughts and send them to me. And while email is nowhere near as arduous as snail mail is, composing and sending with a few buttons, i still get that same thrill. Someone took time to ask a question, or share a thought…or comment on something i wrote…and i think that is pretty darned neat!

Someone wrote to me!!

And that someone asked a question that others have asked, and i’ve adroitly avoided answering.

Because i didn’t have it all thought out. But today, it all came together, from my head, through my fingers, and now out here to you all.

I just read, “shower” you have so much writing talent Nilla, have you ever considered putting it all in a book?  You could remain anonymous.  I think you would be a bestseller, I really mean that.

I began crafting a reply to Ava, and i wrote. And wrote. And wrote.  I finally realized that this was becoming a blogpost. And since it’s a question that has been asked before, i figured, why not just post my reply to her here? So, with Ava’s permission, i have posted her note to me above, and now, my response to Ava, and to you out there who’ve asked me this in the past.

Hi Ava,

You are ubersweet, and   i mean that in full sincerity. i wanted you to know…. i do really think about that from time to time, being published, i mean. Just…i dunno….it might take the joy and love out of it, and become a job. i’d hate that.

i’m seriously thrilled that you like the stories that much. 1 1/2 years ago, i’d never have believed that more than 20 people would be coming to my blog to read my little fantasies…and now i have lots of loyal readers, and that is…huge to me. Yes, it’s a form of validation, to be sure. But also…it helps me feel like i’m not …alone? Hey! I’m not the only one who gets excited and turned on by some very …well, was going to say strange, but really to us it isn’t strange.. it’s  dark, and kinky and oft twisted, tho, isn’t it?

And isn’t that the appeal to us kinky guys and gals? Reading about situations that are sometimes unlikely and sometimes all-too-likely…both hold an appeal, right? They flip our switches, stir our juices, and make us feel, for that moment, that we’re connected…and validated. I’m nilla and i’m a kinky bitch slut. You are too. (smiling)

There’s more to why i write on a free blog tho……when i first started reading erotica,/porn…it was hard to find the ‘good stuff’…oh, there was plenty of hard edgy stuff, but precious few ‘good’ ones. In some stories, it was all about fucking. Beating. Sometimes (if i could find it,which was hard to do) rape fantasies.  Many with very poor plot lines. And even worse grammar.

All writers make grammatical errors. Sometimes a word is used incorrectly. Occasionally misspelled. I don’t have an editor (i have YOU guys to say nilla WTF? !!) but i re-read my stuff 2-3 times before it’s published if at all possible, just to be sure.

Those stories? Not so much.

Which doesn’t mean that some of those badly written tales didn’t turn me on. Coz so many did. There is something to be said about the grittyness of some of them.

But some? Just sucked. The good ones, truly good ones? Were far and few  between.

I wanted to be one of the “good” ones. *smile*  There you have it…my own little personal vanity.

And i wanted it to be free. See, Ava, even now, i don’t have the ability to purchase porn. And …. there have to be others out there like me, who want to read this stuff…but have too many bills to cope with, who really can’t afford to be buying a book of porn. Or maybe they have a spouse that they hide this stuff from.  Or, as in my case…both.

It became more and more important to me that i put something out there that people can enjoy, to escape their 9-5 routine and smile, or get horny or whatever brings you here to read me.

We both know, you and i, that this isn’t War and Peace, but i try to make it as well written as i can, as grammatical as i can, and if i use an occasional word you need to look up…kewl. *smiles*

I have a decent vocabulary and it’s fun to use it writing sex stories!

Over and above all else, i write to please myself. I’ve said it before, and i’ll likely say it again, but i spin my stories from the dark fantasies that grow in my head. If they please me when i write them, i’ve got a good chance to please at least some of you. I don’t try to please all of you…coz i can’t …and i write to de-stress, not add to it!!

At the end of the day, when i sit and pull words and characters from my head, push them out onto virtual paper, and set them to show up in YOUR computer…at the end of the day when YOU read them, and they make you smile, make you wet, make you gasp…

…that’s a pretty fine coin to be paid in.

I’m not ruling it out forever, but for now, at this point in my life ??? I can’t see that i have the time, energy, time, and time to try to get myself  ‘out there”…someday my little ones will be grown, and i will be done homeschooling, and life will quiet and calm a bit…and then perhaps i’ll be in a better place to consider writing for profit.

Until then, come, read, get turned on, and if something thrills you, drop me a line. Because you know…i  do love turning y’all on…!!

nilla

Antiquities IX (fini)

That night, she told Him everything.

He’d either think she was a total nutjob, or He’d get it. She told him about her trek to New England, the funky little antique store, and her binge on objects d’art.

And the Meissen fish in the bathroom. All about the Fish. And Gene. Genii.

He looked at her. She couldn’t quite read him.

“Look, Sir, i needed to tell you this because i need to do something, something extreme. And the only way it will work is by making a wish for it to happen. And when it happens…you’ll understand that i’m really not a nutjob. At least, i hope you will.”

“A genii. In a fish.”

“Right, one of his previous owners figured out how to move the capture spell to the fish, and it kept him there. Then they broke the original bottle, so he was trapped.”

“And you get three wishes?” He continued to look steadily at her.

She wasn’t sure if he was humoring her or not. Perhaps it was, at this point, a mere suspension of disbelief. That was okay. He only had to see one wish to make him believe. She hoped.

She rather doubted he would run. They’d been together for three weeks now, and not once had they reason to be apart other than work time. They braided their lives together so well that it was as if they had always been meant to find one another.

And she knew that Gene was finding something similar in Michael, whom he still called ‘my Adonis’.  She could see that Gene was in love. Really in love, not just lust. She always saw the sadness in his eyes when he came home to the loft, too.  And thank goodness she’d told  about Gene’s origins last night, because this morning, Master had found him in the bathroom without hearing him ‘come in’ during the night. There was  no other way to explain that except the truth, and she was glad she’d lain that in His hands *before* he’d found Gene.

Now, Gene stood against the long kitchen counter, one ankle crossing the other, hands in his pockets. She was trying to be calm, but underneath, her heart was racing, and she was sweating bullets.

She watched her Master’s gaze shift between them.  It was time.

“Gene, i want you to switch my hair back to how it was when you first saw me, and then put it back the way it is now. Wait 3 minutes before you switch it back so Sir can see that it is real hair and not a wig  or some other kind of trick.

Sir, please come stand beside me, so you can see both of us. ”

Once everyone was in place, she nodded to Gene.  He made an elaborate show of waving his hands this way and that, weaving them in the air, around himself, into the air over his head.

“Gene.”

Her tone was a bit…admonishing…but with a hint of giggle.

He smiled, slipped his hands back into his pockets. Her hair was back to the over-dyed blonde it had been upon their first meeting. Her Master threaded his hands into the mass and tugged. He checked every inch of her head.

“Change it back.”

Instantly her hair was long and red again. Again, Master searched her hair.

“Holy Gawd” was all He said.

He looked at her, cupping her chin in his hand.

“I believe you.”

She smiled up at Him, turning her cheek into that warmth.

“Then You agree?” She asked him softly.

She’d told him what she wanted, what she needed, because He’d demanded all of her. And Gene was a part of her, now.

“Yes.”

He released her face from his grasp, and stepped away as she rose from the table.  She went into the bathroom, and returned moments later, holding the porcelain fish behind her back.

“i’ve decided on my last wish, Genii.”

“Well, don’t blow it on Mr. Man over there, coz sweetie? He’s already yours, though I think you both know it already, yes?”

She smiled. “I do, and i can’t say thank you for that, not in thousands of words, over a thousand years.  And i know that my last wish…releases us from each other. But you will always be my friend, and in my heart, Gene.”

“okay, so you’ve finally decided on the million dollars? The yacht? What?”

“Gene…you know me better than that.” She wisked her hand from behind her back, holding the fish in the palm of her hand.
“I wish you to be free to be human, living with your love, Michael.”

And with that she threw the fragile china fish to the concrete floor with all the force she could muster.

There was a loud *BOOM* and smoke filled the kitchen.

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

The sounds of coughing from various points around the room alerted her that everyone had survived that surprising turn of events.

Waving her hands, she could see the smoke was clearing, fast. In a moment, it was all gone. Master was a few feet from her, with a somewhat frantic look on His face. He grabbed her into a bear hug, squeezing her tightly.

“Gene” she managed to gasp out when he gave her room to breathe again.

“here…” came a quiet voice behind her. He stood, looking as before. Except he was smiling.  Clearly joyful, she watched as he twirled.

“HUMANNNNNN” he hollered as he spun.

“HUMMMMMAAAANNNNNN! and FREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

He twirled, laughing, until, dizzy, he teetered and fell to the kitchen floor. His hand landed on a shattered bit of glass, and he winced.

“OUwwwww!” He held up his bleeding palm. She took his hand, wiping at the small smudge of blood with a tissue from her pocket, kissing his palm softly, and smiling as he winced.

“Baby!” she teased him gently.

And the doorbell rang.

“Better go and get that,” his former Boss said, laughing with delight..

“i think your destiny has found you…at last.”

Antiquities, VIII

She wobbled a bit when she slid out of bed. Her knees were shaky. Her ass throbbed. Her wrists were tender. And gawd she needed, desperately, to pee.

“Where do you think you are going, little girl?” The sleepy voice of Bryant rose from the center of the bed.

“Sir, i really really realllllly need to pee.”

“And?”

“uhm…if i don’t i’ll pee on the floor?”

He laughed. “Not My problem.”

“Please Sir may i go pee?” By now she was shifting uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

“Of course you can, little girl. Scoot before you have an accident and I have to rub your nose in it…”

She bolted for the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door, and sat fast. On the rim of the toilet.

Dammit!

Men! and their stinking propensity for leaving the frigging seat up. Still, the moment the cold porcelain hit the back of her thighs it triggered the release of her urine.  It felt like days since she had last pissed. The relief was blessed. Carefully she shifted to wipe, trying to not fall into the toilet.

“Better?”He asked as she came back into the bedroom. “Yes Sir, except for the seat being left up and my butt almost falling into the water…” she poked His ribs as she slid into bed.

He rolled on top of her, mock-wrestling her to her back, growling as he worked at capturing both of her hands in one of his, and tickling her ribs, armpits and belly.

“You aren’t complaining, are you sub?”

She yelped, giggled, snorted, guffawed, squirming like a squid.

She felt the burgeoning hardness of his cock against her thigh, and sighed with joy as he neatly slid between her thighs and into her wetness.

*******

Gene listened to their sex-play from the bathroom. He’d come out of the friggin’ fish when the Boss had yelped. He wondered if he should be-spell the seat so it would always lower after a guy used it…but then again, it might not have precipitated the sexcapades he was hearing now if he did.

He’d had some sexcapades of his own last night, and wasn’t that a wonderful thing? Adonis, who was really Michael, and he had hit it off. Who knew? They’d had a long time of play, and Michael explained that he enjoyed switching his role from dominant to sub. Gene told him he enjoyed the same thing…and that he was feeling pretty dom at the moment.

Michael had fallen to his knees, and laid his forehead on Genes boots.

“Let me worship you, Master?”

Gene was taken aback. Master? How many years had he been the enslaved genii? To hear that word slip from his soon-to-be lovers lips was like honeyed mead.  He smiled, and patted his subs head.

“oh, okay.”

Not that it was a very “masterly” reply but there was a learning curve here, after all! Michael had kissed his way up Genes legs, until finally pressing his face into Gene’s crotch, inhaling deeply, and begging for permission to taste.

Which he quickly gave.

Hells bells it had been a long time since he’d felt a lovers lips wrapped around his cock! Michael had worshiped his shaft with skill, tenderness, and he swallowed, too.

There was spanking, and whip play, and a dabble with hot wax on his subbies cock and balls…and hadn’t Michael’s cock grown and thickened during that play?

In the end, they’d been wrapped in each others arms until the wee hours of the morning. They had kissed, tenderly, deeply, and parted.

Michael had begged for his number, his address, a way to be in contact….but he’s simply said “I’ll be back if I can,” and strode around the corner. Once there, he’d *poofed* back here, quietly emerging in the bathroom so as to not disturb the sleeping couple in the next room.

Who were far and away from sleeping now. He couldn’t resist peeking around the door…watching as the Boss was drilled hard and fast by her new Dom.

Little did she know how fast she and he would fall together. He could see their lifethreads already entangling. She would be in good hands here.

Now all he had to do was get her to finish with the wishes, and he could move on to his next owner. Wasn’t eternal servitude a bitch?

shower

She knelt in the bottom of the shower, the cold porcelain a rude and chilly awakening after a warm night of snuggling.

He’d been so sweet last night, holding her tightly, cock laying flaccid between them, pressing twice in the night against her ass…and she’d woken, wondering of what He’d dreamt.

His terse “get in the shower now, slut” had been a dash on her ego, that he’d go from tenderly holding her through the night,  to Dominant bastard in the morning light. She shivered.

She had no idea how long she’d knelt here, but her knees were sore, her body shivering, trying to avoid contact with the chill of the tub. He finally sauntered into the room and looked at her.

The look on his face made her shiver far more than cold tub walls ever could. He leaned, comfortable in his nakedness, against the sink, arms crossed. His eyes burned their way from her face to her tits, lingering on the marks freshly made last night.  He continued that long, slow perusal, smiling that wicked smile that did crazy things to her belly.

Not to mention what it did to her cunt.

Did she think she’d been cold? She felt…charbroiled under that gaze. And she was sure she wouldn’t like whatever was brewing behind that smile. Yet, whatever it was, made her pussy drool.  She loved and hated when he fucked with her head this way.

He leaned forward and flicked on the water. She yelped as the first, cold drops splashed upon her, and she was sputtering and shivering and moaning as the cold wetness coated her. Trickles and rivulets ran from her hair, down her back, down her tits, pooling where her arms crossed at the base of her spine.

“MASTERRRRRRRRRRRR!!” she hollered over the spraying water.

He leaned forward and turned the mixing valve onto warm. For 10 seconds, she sighed, eyes closed, head bent upwards in supplication to the sudden warmth.

She opened her eyes and looked to Him when the flow was abruptly cut off.

His cock was in his hand and he caught her full in the face with the first hot gush of piss.

Her yelp was unstoppable as the urine burned like hellfire in her open and vulnerable eyes, and he quickly took advantage of her open mouth, jetting more piss between her lips.

She choked, swallowed, almost vomiting.

He played his stream of gold down her body, focusing it on the triangle between her thighs. She was covered in his piss, and shivering from the forbidden lust it stirred in her. She was so fucking sick. She hated the smell of it, but loved it cascading down over her flesh.

She loved the warmth of it, as the trails of urine slid down her tits, dripped from hard nipples, ran in rivulets between her legs.  However warm it was when it hit her,  piss cooled quickly, and her goosebumps rose, as she knelt in the tub, covered with his morning water.

He stepped into the shower, turning on the warm  water at last, and took her by her ears. His cock, still holding a bit of urine, thrust into her mouth, soft for the moment, and released the last gush into her. She choked again, but swallowed anyway, knowing well the penalty of resisting.

He fucked into her mouth as the shower spray beat down upon them, trying not to drown every time he pushed balls deep into her, tilting her face up to receive the bounty of the spray in her face.

His laughter rumbled through his body, through his cock, into her throat as he came, hard and deep, into her tummy.

Antiquities VII

three…..two…..one…

She stood, alone in the middle of the crowd. She felt fear and nerves, and a sense of hushed anticipation.

What the fuck did Gene have up his sleeve? That naughty genii had been all about re-awakening her lusty dark desires. How he’d discovered her submissive side, she didn’t know, but really, she still wasn’t completely sure how it was that he’d bullied her into attending this munch, either.

He was certainly a people manager.

Amazing.

And here she stood, alone in the middle of a crowd of pervie folks, in pink high heels, and pink and white lace. She couldn’t have stuck out more differently than if she’d come in here dressed as “church lady”…

She heard footsteps approaching.

“Gene?”

No answer. Whomever it was, had walked around her. Now behind her, then on the other side of her. Circles. Circles around her. Oboy.

“Hello?” She damned herself for the nervous quiver in her voice. Where was the strong business leader? The footsteps passed behind her again.

“Pretty. Daring. Coming to a munch with this crowd and dressing in virginal colors. Takes a lot of cojones to do that…”

His voice was mid-ranged, and he was very much taller than her, even in the heels. She felt heat near her hands, cuffed behind her.

“Look at you, all wrapped up like an offering. Why, I could do just about anything to you, all goosed up like this…”

“Back off.”

The words were terse and spoken from directly in front of her.

“hey, man, finders keepers…and she’s offerin’ herself here…”

“Trust me, you are NOT going to be doing this. I can take it up with Dwayne if you want. But the club really can’t afford another of your incidents, and I know you’ve been warned.  Now, back. Off.”

“fuckers.” She reeled as she was pushed, hard, from behind. She fell forward, balanced precariously as she was on her heels, and blindfolded.

She was caught in strong arms.

“Whoops! i….”

“Shhh…you’re okay…”

They spoke at the same time.  She thanked him for catching her, and he kept his arm around her, steering her away from the center of the room. He slid her blindfold off, while asking who the fuck had left her alone and unprotected like that.

Gene decided to show up and take that blame, before he could leave his brilliant matchmaking to run its merry path.

“Mistress!  i am so sorry, i ran into a  friend and got talking and i …are you okay?”

She looked up at him through narrowed eyes.

“Yes, Gene. Just fine. Gene, this is…” and she paused, fully looking at her ‘rescuer’ for the first time. He was only a few inches taller than her, and a bit stocky. His hair grayed at the temples, and thinned a  bit at the top, but something about him just clicked for her.

“Bryant. You should know better than to leave your mistress unattended that way.”

“i’m terribly sorry Sir, i …” and Gene trailed off, looking appropriately appalled at himself.

“Go, Gene.” She looked up at him. The little genii ringer! She knew that Bryant had just been ‘played’. The least she could do was set him off to find his own amusement.

The clever bastard!

She explained to Bryant that she was merely ‘mentoring’ Gene as he looked for a partner, that he was gay and new in the area…and she felt herself blathering blithely on…until Sir B took his hand and put it up over her mouth to stop the flow of words.

Her eyes looked up into his amused ones.

“Done?” he asked, his hand still pressing firmly against her lips.

She nodded.

“Thank god. Are you here to play? Hook up with someone in particular? watch some demo’s?”

“uhmm. well…i’ve been out of the community for a while now. A long while. And…well, Gene kind of got me to come here as his mentor and..here i am.”

She felt his eyes digging into her. Like she was a soft shell crab and he the Master of the Sea. Like he could see all her needs and wants right there on her face.

“Well, since you’re all trussed up, how about a little spanking..just to get your evening off to a better start?”

“uhm…will You be doing this spanking, Sir?” she asked, almost shy. She really liked this guy.

“You didn’t think I rescued you just because I loathe Richard, did you? You’re a pretty intriguing package, girl.”

He took her arms and assisted her to the spanking bench. She was suddenly suffused with joy. She wondered where Gene had drifted off to…

Gene stood behind a support beam in the large open space, eyes focused on his “mistress”. Things were progressing so well. He could almost feel her pleasure as her soon-to-be new Master paddled her ass.

“come here alone, often?” The voice behind him startled him out of his reverie. He turned, and looked into the face of his Adonis.

For the first time in centuries, he was at a loss for words.

HNT–New Swirls

Swirls shine with a soft golden gleam, yet things on the outside oft aren’t what they seem;

While ‘ladies’ cover themselves for discretions delight, tis indiscretions that fill my heart with dark light.

And filled with those secrets of lust and desire, i give myself over to swirls of sex-fire.

A lady i’ll be when we meet on the streets, yet here in the ether i’ll be less discreet.