Just a random assortment of ‘things’ in no particular order…

Things i hate

  • people who are mean
  • being unhappy
  • snow in October (trying to embrace it but really? Ugh.)
  • people who don’t write back. Sorry fellow bloggers but this includes those who rarely respond to comments left by other readers. People (including me) take time to write you, and lack of response is a form of ignoring them.  Same goes for emails not responded to, phone calls not returned. Basically, i hate being ignored. Don’t you?
  • having to wear my brand new winter boots in October
  • not getting to sex my Master until LATE November. He is being way good about it, but i feel like a bad sub not being able to be with him. Told ya’ll my vanilla life is way outta control lately.
  • people who don’t pull their fair share of the workload.
  • not having enough time to read OPB’s regularly.
  • cleaning ash out of the pellet stove
  • upsetting Master by forgetting to follow a rule or direction
  • kittens climbing curtains so fast, so high that i almost cannot rescue them before they plunge to the floor, narrowly escaping death! (or so it seems)
  • being too tired to masturbate and have an orgasm
Things that i love:
  • snow (just not a half-foot or more in October, thanks)
  • walking
  • YOGA!! 
  • not having a killing frost by October 29th.
  • having a job (okay, its three jobs, but who’s counting?!)
  • Master. Master. Master.
  • the number 3 and the number 9 (and the number 5)
  • blue skies framed by golden leaves
  • Autumn, even the raking
  • blogsisters
  • kittens (i have two if anyone wants them-just sayin’)
  • music…right now, New Age groups 7 and 5,  and 2002, are my favorites, (especially “Beautiful Days” by the former, and “Remember Now” and “Inner Light” by the latter.
  • waterfalls
  • being spanked, hard, with toys or hands, brush, or shoes
  • kisses, slow melty ones that become rough and hot and lead to rough probing, desperate needs, satiation against the door, or wall…
  • mountains…the real ones, and ones that are hurdles that i’ve overcome, even the ones i’m currently “climbing”…
  • writing
Things i crave:
  • Master
  • sex, sex, sex. 
  • cuddles
  • pain. Sometimes, i wish i didn’t. But i accept who i am. And i really get off on being hurt.
  • thick warm socks that i’ve made with my own hands (someday i might even do this!)
  • time alone
  • time when its quiet 
  • chocolate (and maybe someday Master will give it back to me.)
Things that are important to me:
  • family
  • Master
  • home
  • finding good homes for the last two kittens
  • pleasing Master fully
There’s more, of course, and the lists are constantly in flux. What seems terribly important today may be less so, or resolved tomorrow.  i’m in a funny mood today, missing Master since we’ve not spoken in two days, as He is away this weekend. Lots of texts and that helps but it isn’t the same as hearing His voice. 
And i’m so frigging needy.
Keep your fingers and toes crossed that the snow isn’t too bad and He gets home tomorrow. Our time to see each other is pretty much in jeopardy right now, as we don’t know if and when He will be home tomorrow, as He is also in a “snow zone” where He’s at.
And now, i’m off to bed, to snuggle and dream of my Man…

The Dom with the Heart-on His Pants…

Hee. i said it.

Heart. On.

not hard-on.

We were in Starbucks, and nilla was feeling frisky, bold, playful. i was happy to have time with Him, as His life as well as mine, is hectic in October.

And gosh it’s been fucking forever since we had playtime. September. The 18th of September. And we won’t have time until after Thanksgiving.

Huge pitiful sigh.

So, these breaks are helping us both through.

He’s a tough guy. Military, Special Forces, deadly force, all that jazz. Scary, yet compelling stuff. His contained power draws me in like a fly to honey. He is so *amazingly* strong. He can throw me around a room like…like i was… a feather duster, instead of the short, round, woman i am.

He is sweet (He’ll deny that), and very silly. Strict with the rules i must obey. Firm.  The Sadist is beginning to show more and more in our vanilla encounters. Remember i rarely see it, as i’m blindfolded during our encounters…

And way back, when we came )*(  that close to breaking up in January, and got back together, we were very, very mushy with one another.

He wrote me poetry.

He sent me song links.

i wrote Him love notes.  Shared my favorite love songs.

Because we found out that we truly do love one another,  soul-deep. Over time, that squishy-huggy stuff, rather than being thrown by the wayside, has interwoven all that we do.

But being the naughty little sub that i am, tend to push the envelope from time to time.

That’s where the hearts come in.

i was trolling a craft store and found these sweet heart stickers. And i knew exactly what i was going to do with them.

A few weeks ago, in His car, i palmed the first one,  and while kissing Him, slipped it just under His shirt at the base of His throat. It took him a few minutes to feel it, to grok that i’d counted coup on Him.

And i giggled about it for a long while. Well, until He …remonstrated me, delightfully, i should add.

The hearts have been a little “war” between us. Silent, “deadly” in intent. And so fucking funnah.

Sunday night, i counted coup again, as we shut down Starbucks and headed outside for a little kissy-huggy farewell before parting ways. i slid my little hand into His back pocket, and we teased and played and i got pinched, and that whole scene over the carseat that i spoke of a few days ago.

Later that night, at home, i got the text.

And Monday night got the verbal story.

He was taking off His jeans, hanging them over the hanger. He pulled the thick, leather belt from the loops. And found my ‘gift’…a pair of hearts, one over each pocket.

“That FUCKING  slut,” He exclaimed, loudly enough that His son called from 4 rooms away “You callin’ me, Dad?”….


When i got the text, i had to call, but He didn’t/wouldn’t/couldn’t answer. Instead, through my giggles, i admonished Him to not be so much of a “Heart-Ass” (i know, the temerity, right?!) and then burst into much hysterical laughter.

It just rolled outta me…guffaws, and gales of laughter.

He has told me that He’s saved that little bout of laughs.

“For an appropriate time, slut. When it will really be appreciated.”

uh…rewind, anyone?



Behind the Door

The sound is wet and syrupy.

She blushes as His hand glides between those sodden folds, as His finger probes experimentally into the hidden hole. Pushing in, all the way and pulling out, the sound is wet and syrupy again.

Her face is pressed against His throat, certainly He feels the heat of her cheeks.  Her ass is pressed against the back of the door, feeling the cold from outside pressing in on her heated flesh.

The harsh rasping breathing she hears comes from her own throat. Raw, ragged, like a runner struggling for the last yards of the race; her heart is beating at that same ragged pace.

Wet sounds  squelch up from between her parted thighs. Her toes curl inside the shoes, her nipples harden and press against His leather jacket. The zipper runs between her tits, coiled teeth scraping at her flesh as His hand moves up and down, working her flesh.

His fingers jab up into the soft wetness, curling, beckoning  her body to come.

The sound is wet and syrupy as she obeys.

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Sahara had known that venturing into the Soldan sector was dangerous. Still, it was the best damned place to find free-floating diamonds, and her tracer had found a motherload just hanging here and awaiting harvest.

She’d make her yearly quota in half the time with this one haul. The diamonds were in high demand now, with the emergent technology of diamond-drive. The faceted crystals would “fold” time, creating “jumps” that cut traditional travel into ribbons. A trek from Earth to Mars would take three hours instead of three months.

And these were great specimens, exactly the size she needed.

She’d scooped 25 of the rough rocks when her first alarm sounded.

“FUCK!” she muttered as her scanner identified an Uralian trawler. They were lumbering vehicles, yet they were hard to evade…their tractor beams had some of the longest grab zones in the galaxy.

She withdrew her scooping nets, and shut down sensors. No point in alerting them. If she went out on orbital drive there was a good chance they’d mistake her small sloop for a bit of space debris and leave her alone. She decided to tumble into a free-fall mode and slip free of the diamond field; when she reached the end of the drek zone, she’d slip into hyperdrive and warp the fuck outta there!


She woke, groggy and disoriented.

What the fuck?

The last thing she remembered was tumbling freefall through the scree field…had she hit something? She reached to feel her throbbing head, yet her hand didn’t move. She tugged harder.

She definitely couldn’t move. She tried her other hand, shuffled her feet. Nothing.

What the fuck?

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until she heard the raspy voice.  What the fuck was wrong with her? She could see nothing. No lights from her sensor board; logical since she had turned all to deep sleep mode to avoid the Uralian ship.

So why the fuck couldn’t she move?  Had she shut the view screen? It was too fucking dark.

She swore again.

A breeze moved from somewhere across her skin and she shivered.

Okay, now she knew something was up. She had NOT been naked when she was trawling. Gods knew she loved being skin-free, but not while sitting on her bridge. Well, mostly not.

She heard a sound. A hiss. Lights came up around her and arrayed before her was a small pod of Uralians.

:Female humanoid is alert:

She wasn’t sure where the words came from.  She didn’t hear anything with her ears.  It sort of whispered in her head.  With the lights now on, she could see that she was spread-eagled, hands stuck through some kind of clear, plastic material, sunk in up to her wrists, and molded tight around her hands.

The same material held her feet, suspending her a meter off the floor. Like her wrists, her feet were stuck in the material. She looked, she imagined, like a human X.

“Whadda you want, you fuckin’ perverts?” She hadn’t known she was going to say that. Her raspy voice surprised her as well as them, and they drew back from her, visibly flinching.

“Yeah, that’s right, you fuckin’ pussy-assed fucktards…let me fucking GO!” Her voice was a deep pitched growl, and she twisted and writhed in her containment, to no avail.

She was held fast.

“I said, LET. ME. GO. NOW!!” She leaned forward, yelling at the smallest one as she made eye contact with the creature. Gods they were as hideous as reported. Tall, they were indeed. The tallest was close to three meters, the shortest being closer to her own height. Was he short or immature?

She kept her growling diatribe up, aiming it at the littlest one.

The slap came from behind her; she’d forgotten there was one back there. A line of heat slammed down across her back, down her ass, curled around her thigh.

She yelped at the unexpected blow, the touch burning. She saw the creatures tentacle withdraw. He’d fuckin’ hit her with his arm-thingy. She shivered with revulsion.


Again, that mysterious ‘head-voice’.

“Who the fuck are you?” she barked loudly, trying to twist to see behind her. Another slap, this one between her spread thighs. It hurt, the blow was fast and hard.

It also shamed her that it turned her the fuck on. It’d been a long, long time since she’d had bed-play with anyone, and she sure loved to be slapped around. She loved being her own boss during the workdays, but in bed? She wanted to be drug around by her hair, slapped, bitten, and fucked hard like a piece o’ meat.

Likely it’d been 6, maybe 7 months since her last session with Patrick and Valla.

And now here she was, being pussy slapped by a Uralain, and likin’ it. Who was the sick fuck now?

:we do not want to harm you unduly:

:your hole-noises are painful to us:

:you will be hurt when you offer us hurt:

She began to understand. They wouldn’t put up with any shit. She could keep yelling, but they’d keep on hitting her. Eventually they’d harm her.  They might not “want to” harm her…but the possibility existed.

“What do you want?” she asked in a quieter voices. The small one winced again.

She braced for another slap. This time she got two, one on her pussy, and one from a fast-moving Uralain in front of her. She’d blinked and it was in front of her, and the tentacle moved like a whip and slapped her hard across her mouth.

She felt the bite of her own teeth cutting her lip, tasted the copper tang of blood. That fuckin’ hurt…but she stopped herself before the beast before her struck her again. Despite the tentacles, they appeared to be bipedal. And they were fast fuckers.

:fine: she thought the word, hard.

:there is no need to shout. we can hear you without ‘thrusting’ your words at us:

She shook her head, trying to absorb the new data.

:will you let me go: She tried letting the thoughts float away.


:FUCK: she mind shouted. Twisting and pulling futilely again, she let panic run amok.

And fainted with the blows that fell from many sides at once.

**to be continued**

Life Stuff

Ah, my vanilla life…..

It’s been hell these last two weeks.

My wife and i have been snarking at each other. She would tell you i’ve been a bitch…because i’ve not lain down and let her walk on me (i know several of you will roll your eyes and say ’bout time, nilla’…and i know who you are!)

But i’ve been on a cleaning/organizing rampage as a result of the upheaval. So i have a very neat and tidy house.

I spent most of last week thinking about divorce. Trying to think about my needs.

And finally decided it was too cliché, to shallow to implement.

So, here we are, time under my belt, and realizing all the blessings. Life is not struggle-free. Most of the time, my life works. It’s not easy, but no one promised easy. And yes, i’m a 50+ mom with a 4-year-old. i’ll be homeschooling until i’m nearly 70.

The plus side of that is that they keep me young at heart.  And active.

If i didn’t have the kiddo’s, i might be a couch potato with a size 800 waist.  (okay, maybe not, maybe i’d still be that avid hiker working towards bagging the 40 tallest peaks in the Northeast…rather than just the 8 or 9 i’d gotten to “before kids”…)

And while my vanilla life isn’t perfect, it’s okay. There is a balance there. I wish we had the kind of relationship to be open about things. She knows about my kink blog and assumes all the “trouble” with our relationship started then.

She won’t accept any blame for it.

I didn’t realize i’d married her mom…she is so much like her, turning into her mom this late in life, that it is unsettling to me. Her mom is not a nice person. She is bitter, hateful, rude, impolite, mean-spirited. She’ll say kind things to your face, then cut you up behind your back. While my wife is not quite that bad (yet)…i wonder if she will continue to be. (i have pointed out that she is turning into her mom…NOT well received!)

and i’m venting. i’m thinking aloud.

i know there will be people thinking ‘just leave, then.”

But my life is pretty comfortable, too. While wifey is at work i do have tons to do, that is true. Sometimes it is overwhelming. That’s when i feel things spiraling out of control. But i also have “wiggle minutes” when i can sit and write. Or be outside with the kids. Not many, but i’m working on it. Telling her i simply can’t do it all, not anymore. That although she works out of the house at a high stress job, my day is equally as long, much more physical, and equally as stressful. That this is her home and she has to help with it.

It’s slow. It’s grudging. But there is some change happening.

And overall?

I do have many positives.  I have a lovely home. It’s an old, old house, with a nice backyard for the kids. And i love my kids.  And gosh divorce would so so so fuck them up.  Adopted kids have different issues around abandonment than do bio kids…so a divorce would doubly fuck them up.  That’s just not fair for me to do to them, not when my life isn’t at stake, or in imminent danger. Sometimes, you just have to suck up the bad stuff, the hard stuff, and roll with it.

It’s….kinda like bondage. There are parts of it that contain and constrain you, and you might not like it….but you kinda do, too.

Can you see what i’m doing there? i’ve begun”translating” a lot of my vanilla life into D/s talk in my head, and it makes it bearable. Copeable.

Do i love my wife? Depends on my mood or the day, i guess. You don’t spend 33 years with someone and not feel fond of them….but i know i’m not her primary focus anymore, the kids are. And i resented that for a long time.

Things happen as they do…lives unfold…and if my life hadn’t taken the turn it has, an abrupt kink in my life-road…

  • i would never have met Master
  • i would never have met my blogsisters
  • i would never had the courage to start writing
  • i would never be as truly fulfilled as this side of my life makes me…the yang to my yin

Master added this bit, after i sent Him this post for approval:

You wouldn’t have gotten your ass fucked, you wouldn’t have become beautiful, you wouldn’t have learned to walk in 6″ heels, you wouldn’t have become so proud of the new Nilla and you wouldn’t have been dancing with the possibility of becoming a whore – to mention just a few.

Things happen for a reason, and i cannot resent the ‘bad” things that have happened in my relationship that have brought me to this place and this time.

i can choose to be unhappy and angry…or i can be gracious and accepting. 

This is my life, and i have a lot to be grateful for. This is my life, and there is bad stuff, sure (and i’ll bet there is in yours, too…) but the good stuff carries me through the rough patches. Stuff like Master, and His unflagging support, His caring, the community here.

This is my life, and it is not perfect. But really? It’s perfectly okay that it’s not.

A Dream

Thursday night i had trouble sleeping. Bone-tired from a very physical day moving furniture and reorganizing, i had a happy little smile on my face…and i wanted to sleep so badly.

And i couldn’t. Earlier i’d spoken to Master, briefly. And we texted a few more times. And i lay there, and tried to spin a fantasy, but couldn’t–i was that tired.

i texted Him one last time, and He sent this little “song” He hums to me when He wants me to sleep –just the first six words-and with a smile in my heart, i fell deeply into sleep, feeling Him there ‘with’ me.

And woke with Him with me too. Just as i began to return to awareness, i caught the tail end of a dream…

He opens the door after my third knock.

“hi Master,” i say. Always a bit nervous, a bit shy, and a lot happy as that door opens. What happens behind it…oh my.  Knowing that when i cross that threshold, i’m Master’s plaything–there to please Him in whatever way He chooses, always brings a nervous flutter to my tummy…and wetness between my thighs.

He threads His hand through my hair and pulls my head back. Forgoing my mouth, He kisses my throat, licks up to my ear, turning my head by that fist locked in my locks.

Hurts and feels so fucking good.

His lips slide down my neck to where my shoulder curves in and He nips. A painful, ouchy nip. Nuzzling under the edge of my shirt, He nips again. And a third time.

It fucking hurts, yet i’m panting like a bitch in heat, my pussy is throbbing and wet.

Releasing me, He takes my bag, putting it into the bathroom, and turns back to me.

i see the gleam in His eye.

“what….?” i inquire, my voice husky with lust, mingled with nerves. Already the Lion has begun to show in Him, biting and licking at me. i’m so turned on i can barely stand.

“What are You…”

and suddenly He is grabbing my wrist, and i understand. He’s not going to let me get all “huggy and kissy” on Him, not attempt to score coup in our little game of that. Well, my little game of it, anyway.

Dipping under His arm, i attempt to pull away, but His grip is like iron, and now i hear the scriiiiiiip of the velcro cuffs.

“no no no no…You Bastard! That’s cheating,” and suddenly,  i’m giggling and struggling. But one wrist is cuffed before He releases me.

The Lion loves to play with His food. He loves stalking His prey. Glancing quickly around the room, i take in the bed, the small couch, the chair. There’s a nook behind the desk, but i’ve learned that lesson.

Aha! If i go into the little lane beside the bed, i can roll over and across it and fly into the bathroom…and  suiting actions to words, i sprint across the room.

He makes a grab for me, misses. Likely intentionally, just to lull me. With a giggle, i slip into that little lane, and wait. He’ll think He has me trapped, i think to myself, trying to not let my ‘plan’ show in my face.  He knows how my mind works, and it’s likely not much of a plan, but–it’s all i’ve got!

He’s blocking off the entry to that little ally way, and His eyes are glinting. Thus far He’s not said a single word. He looks at my face, smiles as i bite my lip nervously.

We wait a heartbeat.

And another.

On the third, i leap across the bed.

He pounces, and i am caught under Him. Giggling, struggling, i am quickly rolled to my belly, my other arm captured, wrist cuffed to the other behind me.

“Hello, little girl,” He says at last.

He shifts on me, turning  to sit on my ass, facing my feet. His hands pull up my skirt, then move over my bare butt, pinching and kneading.  i know this is merely foreplay, as i squeak and writhe under His incredibly hard-gripping fingers.

A line of bruises will soon appear from those ‘nipping nails’ and i feel myself growing wetter with every painful pinch. He shifts again, and i feel His warm breath on the back of my thigh, and then His teeth, biting hard.

Arching up i cry out, but He continues to feast on me. A bite, a lick. His hand slides down my leg, grips my ankle.  Slowly, ever so slowly He slips off my shoe, my sock.

“Great shoes, little girl.”

i feel His breath on my ankle as He bends my leg back towards His lap…..

of course this is where i wake up, before the biting of my feet, before the tickle torture…we know it’s going to happen, but the scene faded to black, and my eyes opened.

is it any wonder i started the day with a big ol smile on my face?


Post Script, Monday evening

Sunday i had a bit of “face time” with Master. Dontcha know that the foot scene played itself out a bit IRL? We closed Starbucks, and He walked me to my car. Intense pinches and deep kisses, little muffled squeals and standing on tiptoes as He worked on my underarms, tickling and pinching.

He spins me about and shoves me into the backseat of my car, then grabs my ass.

Every time my head popped up…He shoved it down. My leg was bent at the knee so that my heel pressed against my ass.

“Oh, what’s THIS?”  He says with a smile in His voice.

Rut roe.

i cannot move. Head almost on the floor, body bent over my daughters carseat, i’m pinned. He loosens the sneaker, pulls it off with a naughty laugh…and begins to tickle and torment the bottom of my foot.

Upside down, i’m giggling and groaning and writhing, and trying to push up…unsuccessfully, until finally, He relents.

i almost pissed my skirt.

Dear Gawd, that Man knows exactly where to touch to bring me to my knees.

Isn’t that grand?


Her head throbbed where His hands had grabbed gobbets of hair. Using them as handles, He drove her face relentlessly onto His cock. Her pussy throbbed in time to the drumbeat in her head, yet she held posture.

His cock was hard and heavy and hot in her mouth.

Her jaw ached from the strain of keeping teeth away from tender flesh, her lips were rubbed raw from the repeated scraping of each hard thrust.

Her throat gagged and trembled each time the head of his cock slipped lower, slipped deeper.

He paused, cock buried in her face, fingers clenching hard in her hair. He groaned, and she sucked slowly, gently, pulling air out of her mouth and adding suction.

His groan grew louder.

“Goood, good cocksucking slut…” and He ground His pelvis hard against her face. Her nose was smushed against crinkled hairs, tickling her and making her want to sneeze. The faint taint of piss came to her, along with the musky smell of cock.

He pulled out and she gasped a fast breath. She knew, from experience, that now He would fuck her face like a cunt, hard, fast, deep, without curcease until He came.

Each thrust was a torment of twisted pleasure and pain. Her throat grew sore with the scraping of cock on tender flesh, and her repeated gagging.

Her pussy was dripping now- she felt it splash onto her ankles. He fucked her mouth harder, and it was all she could do to stay upright. Her hands were bound to her thighs, her knees were sore.

She felt the telltale tightening, tasted the first drips of cum. He ripped out of her mouth and stepped back, spouting gouts of cum onto her face, her tits, her hair.

“Cumslut,” He grunted with each expulsion, until she was coated in His juice.

He freed her left hand. “Find it, and eat it all, slut,” His voice was dark and hard as He sat back into His chair and watched her capture each line of cum, and eat it like the hungry whore she was.


More about Hair

Ya’ll (please note proper usage of this term!!) remember when i took a poll about a month ago regarding cutting my hair, right?

Actually, i was very surprised at the quantity of votes…and the overwhelming majority were for cutting it.

Appointment was set for the night before i went to visit aisha.

That Sunday (after the poll, before the haircut) i had time with Master. We were necking in His car (mmmm–nothing like a bit of D/s necking! pinches and kisses, pussy-punching orgasms, and fingernail “bites” up my butt crack…).

Okay, i’m getting all turned on remembering. *breathing slowly*

It’s dark, we’re in a parking lot where all the stores are closed. We’re in the back corner of the lot. Private, quiet, secluded. We have but an hour together before i need to head back and pick up the kiddo.

And we were all over each other. Needy, greedy. It’s been a while since our last “behind closed doors” and will be a long while before we get there again.

These little visits are stop-gap measures to keep us sane.

We’re turned towards each other, looking at each other, when He twirls His finger.

“Turn around.”

Compliant, i turn my back to Him. His hand strokes down my hair, once, twice. Then He grabs a giant fistful of it, wrapping it around His hand like a rope, and pulls me back onto His lap. He pulls down and down, so that i am bent into an arch over His legs. My knees draw up and open, trying to hold my balance, as He bends my head and neck back.

Open, exposed.


He whispers, almost to Himself, i think. He’s consented, and He doesn’t go back on His word, not ever.

“God I love your hair.”

Soft words drifting down to me where i lay, controlled by His fist in my tresses.  It wasn’t long after that, that His free hand began pinching and twisting my tits and nipples,  then finger fucking me, all the while still pulling my head, hard.

Yet the words vibrated inside of me.

And i knew then that, no matter the polls, the votes, and His “okay” to cut it, that i wasn’t going to go through with it.

i don’t think anything i’ve ever done for Him has pleased Him more.

i guess this post isn’t really about my hair after all.

It’s really about pleasing Him. And that’s what this lifestyle is all about, at least from the view looking ‘up’…., right?

It is about putting aside my wants;  being His true submissive in the ways that i can be. And i’ve found, more and more often, that pleasing Him, pleases me.

Since we aren’t a 24/7 live-together couple, these little things that i can do, be it forgoing a haircut, or not having an orgasm….those are tasks which satisfy a need in me to offer myself to Him.

In my thought process, it means more (to me) that i’ve given that submission in such a way that i’ve suppressed my own desires in order to serve Him as a submissive.

What a convoluted way to say what i really mean……in giving up something, i get something better.


Lap Dance

just a note…i’ve recently joined WordPresse’s  PostADay Challenge…yanno, since i post every day anyway. Giving a lot of thought to doing NaNoWriMo, but not sure i can stay with a single theme for 30 days! I’ve got 10 days to make that decision, so for now, just enjoy this little bit of naughty…

and …oh my….

here be dragons…if you are afraid of them, just turn away now…!

She lay on the bed, spread wide. Her cunt throbbed, ached for release.

She stared through tear-blurred eyes at the closed bedroom door. Gods He was so pissed. She blinked, and the tears joined others, running in rivulets down the sides of her face. She sniffed, swallowed, coughed, tried to rub the tickle of them off her face, but her arms were too widely apart to make appreciable contact.

The door opened and He stood there, staring at her.

He was fully dressed.

“Need to cum?” His tone was brusque.

“yessir,” she whispered.

“You were a bad girl.”

“yessir,” she breathed slowly, trying to hold back the tears. “i am sorry, Sir, so so so sorry…”

“Yes,” he said, matter-of-factly, “you are, and you will continue to be. Contrition can be a good quality. You will receive your punishment shortly.”

He turned and strode out the door. In a second, she could hear His footsteps clattering down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

She heard, because she was straining to, the clatter of His keys, and the back door opening.

He had left her here? Alone, tied to the bed?

That violated every rule about their D/s. Okay, she’d fucked up, but still….she felt the first surge of true anger when His car started up and the engine purred out of the driveway.

That fucking asshole!

She strained at her bonds, but knew she was caught tight. The ropes around wrists and ankles were intricately woven cuffs, the loops slid up and over the tall posts on the bed. She was stuck.

She started to cry, sobs pulling up from her belly. Tears of remorse and anger flooded her. So caught up was she in her misery, that she never heard the sound of nails on the stairs, and cried out in shock when a cold, wet nose was pressed against her underarm.

Her eyes flew open and she stared in surprise at Bogo. “You don’t belong up here, you know better, boy,” she said, as he looked at her with dark, soulful eyes.

He leaned against the bed, his snout snuffling along her arm, up to her armpit. He loved the scent of her, and would often nuzzle her there when she sat on the couch.

Now, naked, the cold nose and snorted breath tickled. A giggle escaped, and she wiggled and writhed to get away..

“Bogo! No, no, stop…”

Thinking it was a new game, Bogo leapt up to the bed, straddling her. His long, long tongue fell out of his mouth, and he slurped from the side of her overhanging tit up to her armpit.

“OHMYGAWD” she giggled, writhing. “Down, Bogo, get downn”…yet his seeking tongue, lapping at her tender, ticklish underarm convulsed her into giggles once more.

He tasted a tear, and immediately followed the trail of it, from her neck, up the side of her face, and over her eye.

“Bogo!” she began, then coughed and turned her head as his lapping tongue entered her mouth briefly.

He licked her face carefully, tenderly, until every tear was gone. Following the tear-tracks down the other side of her, he discovered a pool around the base of her throat and neck, and spent time nuzzling her. So good was it, that he sat down on her.

Her breath came out with a whoosh, as his full mass lay upon her.

“Bogo, ogg…off” she gasped. He weighed a solid 97 pounds, and she felt every pound of him on her small frame.

Reluctantly, he rose again, sliding to one side of her. And discovered another armpit. He snorted and snuffled and licked to  his delight and her torment.

She screamed, and Bogo lifted his head, when another canine nose touched the bottom of her foot.

“Nonononononononoooo…” she moaned, as Oho, Bogo’s brother, snuffled her foot, her leg. In a trice, he was up on the bed with his brother. Bogo went back to work lapping her arm, her breast, and back up to her throat. Briefly the two dogs touched noses over her belly, then Oho began sniffing her pussy.
“NO! OHO, no no no…bad dog, go…go down…” her words were cut off as Bogo once more tongued her mouth. She twisted her head to the side attempting to evade the questing tongue, even as she felt Oho’s tongue slide up her slit.

She was soaked; Master had brought her to the edge two, three times, and let her hang. He’d laughed as she’d humped at the air, seeking release, the bastard.

Bogo went back to her armpit, tickling the fuck out of her. Giggles and writhing erupted, as his long tongue went back to work, and shrieks of the turn on of having a hot tongue slicking along her pussy.

He hit her clit and she arched up. Both dogs stopped and stared at her a moment, then Oho dropped his head, determined to consume more of the delightful taste.

Bogo found no more sweat or tears and rose, stretching. The relief from the tickle torture was immense, at least until he turned and began investigating what his brother was doing.

“nonononononooooooooo” she moaned as two tongues fought for the taste of her slick wet flesh. Flashes of intense shock as a long tongue grazed her clit, as a cold wet nose snorted and snuffled lower, sniffing under her ass and lapping furiously at the juices that had slid into her asscrack.

She came, hard.

The sudden surging of her juice had both dogs in a licking frenzy, driving her over the edge again. Her body locked in a furious orgasm, she trembled as they continued the terrible torture. She was so fucking sensitive after cumming, yet the tongues would not relent.

She needed a break, needed them to stop….Yet here she was, tied and helpless. And Master was…

“Enjoying yourself slut?”

Her eyes flew open. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with a huge smile on his face. The dogs heads whipped up, staring at their Master.

“Downstairs you two,” he said, flicking his hand in a simple gesture. In a flash, both dogs were off the bed and skittering downstairs.

Her pussy throbbed. She was covered in dog spit, and her own cum. She was turned on, and embarrassed.

No, humiliated.

Which is precisely what He’d planned, no doubt.  Lesson, learned.

“You left me here,” her voice was husky and low.

The smile that crossed His face was pure sadistic bastard. He shook his head.

“I was here the entire time, slut.”

“but i heard the car…”

“Parked in front of Ed’s house.”

He’d parked at Ed’s house. Ed, who lived next door. And snuck back here and….

“You let the dogs in.” Her shock shone through her words. She’d thought they’d merely taken advantage of the situation. Instead, it was all a part of His punishment, the wiley bastard!

“And you loved it, you little slut.”

“Yes Master,” she replied, flushing deeply.

“Little doggie lap dance there…”

and He laughed as he closed the door and began to undress.