May 23rd, 2011–Ta-da!!

I’ve done it!!

Today marks the day that i have written 365 consecutive posts!!!!

*fist pump in air*

The original day i was to reach this milestone was last October (2010), as I’d begun to write a daily post beginning in Oct 2009.  Last fall, i thought i’d made that milestone. Oh, i was all kinds of pumped. 365 consecutive posts! woo hoo. And then.

Then, going back in my annals…i’d discovered…i’d *missed* a post on May 23rd.

o. my gawd.

i was pissed.

i was sad.

i was miffed.

Then i pulled up my metaphorical big girl panties, and got on with my writing again.

So, on the one hand, i’ve written a post almost every day since mid-October, 2009 with the exception of 5/23/10. Or, nineteen consecutive months, with one day missing. (dammit!)  Or to put it another way, 600+ posts.  That’s a danged good track record. And no, i’ve not counted all the posts betwixt then and now…all i can tell you is that in a few more days i will have reached 700 total posts…in two more days maybe three?

And, being the perfectionist i am, i wanted–no…needed– it to be “right”. i see you shaking your head in bemusement……i know, what the fuck does that mean??

Well, for me it meant…perfectly consecutive days.

And now i’ve done it. *giggling in glee*

And yanno what? it’s such a habit to have a daily posting now…that it will be hard for me to *not* post. So i wouldn’t worry that you’ll show up here…and i won’t.

…read on, mcduff…and i’ll keep writing…and writing…and writing…

happy nilla

ps… what?

you want a story too? it’s not enough that i’ve given you 284  selfish, self-congratulatory words of glee?

you’re a tough crowd, yanno? okay. But…only coz its you. And i like you.

*throws back head and laughs*

Stand Up

He took a fistful of hair.

“UP. Straight. Tall. Push out those tits, like you’re begging me with your body to take them. Hurt them. Kiss them. Suck them.”

“Yes Sir”

“Be proud of what you are…be all you can be, slut. You are here to serve, yes?”

“yes, Sir, i am here to serve You, and gladly”

He patted her ass, released her hair, stroked down the length of it.  He walked around her, watching, waiting, looking. A whisper of a touch here, a pinch there.

He avoided all the usual places. He carefully avoided her nipples, her pussy, her lips. Rather, he stroked her cheek, pinched her belly, prodded her thigh.

Slowly he went ’round her again. She couldn’t see him, but she felt his heat near her. She wanted to twitch, to shiver out her stress.  She kept her shoulders up, took a deep breath, pressing her tits out, screaming silently with her body…’take me…use me…hurt me.’

A long moment passed. She heard the sounds of the house, settling around them for the evening. The ‘cheerio’ call of the robins in the gloaming, the pinging of the siding as the air chilled, and his breathing from behind her.

“Please,” she begged, her heart in her voice.

“Please? Please what, little one? What is it that you want from your Master?” His voice was silk, heat, promise. She wanted to lean into that voice, wanted that coy silk, needed that raw heat, and the promise of power, and pain.

Her voice dropped, husky and embarrassed by her needs.

“Please, Sir, hurt me?”

Her body craved it. Craved him. A deep burning hunger grew, in her mind, between her tightly closed thighs.

A hunger only He could sate.

She was an addict, and He, the supplier. She took another breath, deeply filling her lungs, pushing her tits out, arching her spine up, inviting him.

She smiled as his hands snaked around her, and captured her nipples in his cruel grasp.

Her gasp was pleasure, pain, and the sated breath of desire gaining fulfillment.


okay, this was short, but …in some ways very evocative of what i get from writing…for me, for you..for my Man…the gaining of our ultimate fulfillment at the hands of the one we serve…for an evening, or for a lifetime…is very much what i get from setting my fantasies from boiling birth in my head, to here for you to get off on. 

it feeds the addiction in me. 

it sates the beast that lies coiled in my belly, in my head, demanding release.

And yes. ....i get off on it.


Here’s to another “full” year, Lords ‘n Ladies, slaves, sluts and subsisters/subbrothers!

Raise your…

no. never mind. keep your hands down there…that makes me happier than champagne toasts anyway!!