Fantasy, “B” side

i text You from outside the door.

in a moment it is pulled open and you kiss me, hard.
i’m yearning towards you, leaning on you panting with my need for your hugs, your touches, your ownership.
Your fist moves to my hair, and you pull me across the room.
A man sits there. (my heart races when i see him there) He is perhaps about your age, maybe a few years younger. His hair is thick and almost shaggy. He is holding a hank of rope in his lap, and a white cane in his hand as he sits comfortably at ease in the chair.
Kneel, you tell me, pushing me to my knees in front of him.
This is Sir Q, you say, and you will be obedient to him, slut.
yessir, i say, quickly and quietly. thoughts are whizzing in my head, until he speaks…then i am just there…unable to think only to obey.
he unzips his fly, takes out his cock.
suck this gently, he says.
i open my mouth and wait for him to move forward a bit.
you smack the back of my head.
i have to move to him.
i look at you once, not sure if it is supplication or entreaty and you gesture to me to get on with it.
i put my hands on his knees, moving between his legs.
no hands you say almost in unison
i slide my hands behind my back, nesting one fist inside one palm. You slip a noose over my wrists, tightening it and wrapping it around my wrist several times. This is much harder, and i lean against him, trying to get his flaccid cock into my mouth.
he makes a hmming noise in his throat as i root around for his shaft, and i feel it twitch a bit as i place my lips on the head of it.
he shimmies his hips just a bit, and the head lays in my mouth. gently i suck on it. how odd, to have another mans cock in my mouth.
i close my eyes and picture you looking at me. i want to make you happy, i want to be an obedient slut, i am desperate to prove myself to you and to him.
to show him what a good slut you have created.
i suck and he hardens in my mouth. i slide my mouth down the length of him, gagging a bit, then remember Donna’s trick.
it works, and he goes deeper into my throat. i pull back, sucking gently, trying to not fuck up.
my lips leave a red trail of streaks from my lipstick along the length of him.
without a word, he pops the head out of my mouth.
i look up at him, you with questions in my eyes. he grabs his cock and jerks it hard a few times, until he moans and jets his juice onto my face.
his hands search for me, and he rubs his cum all over my face.
i am grossed out
i am turned on
i wonder if you will kiss me later with another mans jiz on my mouth.
you untie my hands, and bid me to rise. you’ve thrown my stuff on the bed and you tell me to strip down to just my stockings.
i have to be naked?
yes he’s blind but still…
i say nothing, but slowly disrobe. you see i am reluctant, and smile. a  bit of mind torture obviously pleases you.
sitting on the edge of the bed, i slide my hose up my right leg, then my left, then the garters to hold them in place. you pass me the red shoes, wordlessly.
in a moment they are on and you pull me to my feet. you pinch both nipples at the same time, and ask me where my clamps are, n’est pas?
i tell you and you find them, and put them on the window sill. i know they will be cold when you put them on. such a mean master!
yet i smile because i like that about you.
Sir Q  rises and taps his way to us, and he begins to explore me. his hands pull and slap at my tits, his hands explore my pussy, my ass.
good he says to himself. the hank of rope is placed around my neck, and he begins to work, tying my tits hard and tight. i grunt from time to time as he pulls and tugs, at the loss of free movement, and moan at the sensations beginning to soak into me.
the rope is rough, his hands are smooth and warm
my tits ache already.
he threads a rope through my pussy, a knot placed precisely over my clit. i moan again.
the rope is tightened, secured. my tits jut out, turning purple.
you put the mask over my eyes, and shut away the world. shut away my chance to prepare for what happens next.
slapping blows rain down onto my jutting, aching tits. i twist side- to- side, but am admonished harshly to stand the fuck still. no moving.
and both of you are hitting, until there is a lull. i breathe hard through the pain, feeling the wetness of my leaking cunt running down my thighs.
and a pinch warns me a micro second before the first cold clamp bites into my nipple, then the second one. the chain is cold, very cold, bouncing around my belly
so fucking cold
such a fucking turn on…
and you start hitting my tits again, snapping against the clamps and making me whimper …
and then switch up,
 swatting  my ass….
and i lose my breath
and find myself
all at the same time
this was written very freeform, not any punctuation or grammar rules…just as raw and visceral  as i imagined it. (and oh my i had a delightful orgasm!!)

My Bad….

Didja freak out this morning (if you’re an early-bird reader, that is) when there was no post from nilla?

i’ve been as dependable as can be, auto-setting posts to drop at 12:03 every day for so long i cannot remember the last time i missed one.


Today was the day.

Yesterday is to blame, really. I had to write several things for The Man. I have two sick kids, and not feeling so hot myself.

And my teenager had his first date. Which meant i had to drive him there, go to Starbucks to hang out for a while (oh, the sacrifice, lol!) and write while there, then go back and get him…and the play ran late, and we didn’t get home until nearly 11 p.m.

Which is verrah late for nilla.

Which screwed up Master and nilla’s FNF (for the 2nd week in a row).

And yes, i was at Starbucks, writing. The book had me by the throat, and i wrote like a fury yesterday…*thousands* of words….and it made me forget about here.

*hanging head*

Sorry, loyal readers.

My very bad.

I’m seeking permission from Master to publish one of the two fantasies i had to write for Him for my “ordered” masturbation earlier this week … but He has yet to say “yes” so today you are simply stuck with plain old, unsexed nilla.

dear gawd i need to be fucked!

Did i just say that aloud?

well…dammit…it’s the truth. I can add to that list, too.

I need:

spanking, biting, kissing, hugging, fucking, spanking, nipple torture…*draws breath*…i also need time to be with Master that doesn’t have short parameters to it (like…Sunday from 915 until 1115).

i might be going slightly crazed here, from being on ZNN since my orgasm Wednesday night.

i might be slightly (slightly? talk about an understatement!) nervous about the heart crop next weekend.

i might be stalling for time while the Dragons finish chomping on my brain (yes, there is a dragon, and it’s half-written…at this point it’s just a matter of no time to write.)

And this week my wife is on vacation which will further impact my time to write. Lots of busy family things to attend to, lots of “stuff” to get done before Thanksgiving (i’m the hostess), and lots of leaves yet to rake.

That’s a lot of  “lots”….*smiles*

So thanks to aisha for texting me this morning sayin’ “whats up with your blog”

Coz when i went to bed last night i had this nagging feeling that i’d forgotten somethin’….

And one last thing….. i PROMISE….i will get to all those comments that i have not replied to. Soon.

Once again, my bad….




Real Life Stuff

So many thoughts to process…

First, i guess, is the incredible joy, the euphoria, of being #26 on the Best Bloggers list…make no mistake, ya’ll…i write for me, to soothe my beasts, to keep me….well, from exploding, i guess. Your comments have been food for me, feeding me, encouraging me, and i appreciate every single one of them (and i am woefully behind on replying to everyone from the last few days…hopefully as you read this i will have completed that…)…but to be publicly noted like that was truly …well it blew my little pervy mind!

Second…the boost from that little surprise, and the gentle boot of my Masters foot up my ass has jolted me from a bit of “down” this week. i’ve been fighting this bug that everyone here has had~my 7 year old has pneumonia as a result of it, a big worry for me as he is not a “robust” child.

(reaches over for a slug of tea, wtf? who drank that…?)

and last week M and i didn’t manage to hook up for FNF…nor for our Sunday face time…and (caution, whine ahead) it’s been soooo long since we’ve had behind-closed-doors time. September 18th we had a short playtime here….our last full-day together was in August. That is a terrible amount of time to go, frankly, not getting beat, nor fucked by the Man.

And the lack of play, and not feeling 100%, and vanilla-life stresses and commitments…

made nilla an unsexual girl. Sit down before you read the next part. It’s pretty shocking. *nods*

ready? sure?

i asked M to take away my O’s, (yes, you read that correctly. Take them    a  w  a  y….)

put me on ZNN, until we meet again (hopefully next week) for our playtime.

His response was both tender, and Domly.  And He made me laugh and feel better.

“nilla,” sez He…”no one would be a worse nun than you….”


It was the perfect start to a conversation that ultimately lifted me fully up out of my black hole. And he ordered me to have an O. *smiles

added to all the stuff that had me down,  i broke my favorite vibe, and it’s only been a few months and geeze that pissed me off.

$59 for a vibe that was *divine* …and now it only works when i clench my pussy muscles very hard. Yeah, that would bet the *same* pussy muscles that broke the fuckin’ thing to begin with.

i hear all the guys reading this snickering and going ‘yeah, so this is a bad thing?’…but the ladies will get it..

i hope.

so i’ve ordered two new vibes (i am getting my first rabbit vibe, ever, coz it was such a great price (from $60 to $18? hell yeah!), and one that plugs in because the cost (and disposal) of batteries sucks.

Thankfully, Master has carefully pulled me along His dark path, and when He gave me that O, He ordered me to masturbate to a certain fantasy…He laid out the basics, and then i was to “flesh it out”…masturbate, and then retell Him the fantasy. The whole fantasy…talk about laying yourself bare.

and i dunno if He’ll let me publish it or not. Well, theres two of them, really, as i had to repeat the scene last night, but make it different somehow. In a while i will write that one as well.

And i’m writing a novel.

Yeah. heh. go figure. i’m maybe almost half-way through, a bit behind the pace set by NaNoWriMo, but i was saved from crashing and burning by Donna, who reminded me that i already write daily, which is a discipline that other new writers need to work on…and since i’m writing a blog (or sometimes two) post a day, and the novel…don’t sweat it.

crisis resolved. and hey….i don’t have to stop writing on 11/30 when NaNoWriMo ends! duh. i know, it’s obvious, right? Anyway, it’s going pretty good, and my two reviewers are enjoying it. Will keep you all posted about that.

And i still have leaves to rake, and i’m tired from not sleeping well. And Master is revelling in my ZNN status, and giving me some tasks to attend to, keeping me focused on serving Him.

i love that.

i’ve been nominated by several people for the VBA award…serene, and butterfly and vixen.. and i am always honored when someone taps me and says “you affected/effected me”….but …

i don’t think i read 7 blogs a day…i read two a day loyally, and catch up on 3 or 4 others weekly…that’s really all i can fit into my time. i want to read more, i really do…but there just aren’t enough hours in my day.

So i cannot nominate anyone (all of you have already been nominated)…and you all know way more than  7 things about me, right? What could i add?

i mean, i told ya’ll about my weird baby toes, and how ticklish i am. You know i color my hair, and i make most of my food from scratch. Ya’ll know i’m a slut, that i love my Master, and that this year has been one of intense struggles, changes, and growth in my D/s relationships.

And ya’ll know i write to keep my head from going sploidy….who could ask for anything more?


One last thing before i leave you to your day…Master’s gift arrived today. You remember the pic from the other day? Didn’t that look like a sweet little crop?





That thing…omg. I told M that it had arrived here, and i’ll be sure to get it to him for his birthday….in 2012.

He laughed that hot, evil laugh of His.

nilla, you fail to realize one key point here. That crop is no longer yours…it is Mine. You are merely the holder, and bringer of the toy.

It is MINE.

So don’t fuck up and forget it, got it?

What can i say to that other than…”yes Master?”

Stay tuned…nilla’s heart-cropped ass will be on display at some point in the not far distant future…coz my ass is, after all,  Master’s toy, too!




Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Epilogue

Sahara woke slowly. Around her the quiet, unheard but felt presence of others. There were waves of purple and blue, and one russet- red tone. Waves of happiness, and the one lone ‘hungry’ voice meant that Violet and her son were awake.

She couldn’t move, of course. Os wrapped her tightly in his arms every night, as if binding her to him.

It was a good feeling.

She reached out to him with her feelings, the warmth and depth of her feelings towards him, towards all of them, really. He was quiescent, likely still dozing. She felt herself drifting back to sleep.


He’d shielded himself while she stirred. She was tired from these last weeks; learning to acclimate to his people was often draining on her. He supposed it would be hard, suddenly experiencing the flow of energies from all the personalities here.

Just wait until they arrived home. Best he help prepare her now.

She was soft and warm against him. Despite her lack of arms, she was very capable,  and as a sextoy, she was…very different. The tips of his tentacles tingled, thinking of the taste and scents of her.

The mouth noises she made as he penetrated her holes, especially if he filled all of them at the same time. He felt the waves of pleasure pouring from her when he held her down and brought her to orgasm. He loved the copious juices she leaked. His people did not mate in this way, and this self-lubrication was a wonder to him.

Several of his shipmates had approached him, enticed by the smells of her sexjuice. He would, at some point, decide whether he wanted to share her. It was their way, but at some point, her own feelings about sharing had imprinted on him.

While his people were not customarily life-bonded, he saw that it was tradition with her people. And yet, there was a core in her that showed she was open to some amount of sharing, as long as he remained her primary.

It was an interesting thing, to consider being life-bonded, especially to a bipedal.

She twitched in her sleep and shifted her legs, clenched and unclenched her fingers. The scent of warm, wet, flesh was drawn in by his sensitive tentacles, and he did some twitching of his own.

Slowly, he wrapped each of her ankles with his own arms, gently separating them. Another arm reached between her legs, and began gently stroking the folds there. The smell was intoxicating. The taste was tantalizing. The heat was inviting.

He slid inside her with a mental sigh. Her muscles clenched around him, once, hard, as he pushed pleasure waves at her. Her orgasm was almost instantaneous.

So, she had been sex-dreaming again. His inward smile was satisfied. He curled the tip of his tentacle, pressing it against that spot that was so sensitive. Again her hole squeezed him, again the rushing of wetness from her.

Using some of that wetness, he slipped a second tentacle into the tighter opening. She often resisted this when awake, yet he found this hole to be even tighter than her front hole.

Apparently her food-waste hold was something that she was embarrassed about. The concept of that was quite alien to him, did in face amuse him.

He pressed upward, driving straight inside her, while slowly entering and exiting the wetter front tunnel. She called it a cunt.

He called it delightful.

Slowly, gently he fucked into her hole, while holding his second tentacle immobile in her ass.

He knew she was awake now, wide awake, but feigning sleep. Let’s see how long she could maintain that posture, he thought wickedly.

Inside her pussy the tentacle twisted and writhed, while slowly fucking in and out of her.

He pressed deeper into her ass, pressing the wider part of his tentacle up through the tiny, tight opening. What a delicious feeling it was. He pressed the pleasure back towards where she lay, eyes closed.

Little beast, he thought with humor, you will not win this time, either.


She tried to remain still. She tried to ignore the incredible fullness of her lower body. She had cum half a dozen times, and could feel the waves of pleasure from him.

It only caused her to go nuclear in her response.

Her eyes flew open as she became ensnared in wave after wave of pleasure. She opened her mouth to moan, and another tentacle filled that hole.

She didn’t understand how he drew pleasure from her sucking it, but she did it anyway. He threw that sensation at her, too. She was swirling with pleasure, and the pain-pleasure of his fat tentacle in her ass only added to it.

It started as a tickle, but she clearly felt the  buzzing from his arms. It rapidly grew stronger.  He was throwing energy into her, his tentacles electrically stimming her. He hit the pleasure-pain threshold perfectly, and kept her there.

It was almost overwhelming, the buzzing. Her pussy clenched again in orgasmic delight, his tentacle pressing deeply into her throat.

Gagging while cumming should have sent her into paroxysms of panic, but it merely made the cumming even more intense. Soon, other tentacles were “buzzing”, tingling along her tits, her nipples, that sensitive spot just at the base of her spine.

He fucked every hole, discordant.

In one, out the other.

Gasping for a breath, yet needing to cry out as her ass was stretched, painfully stretched.

Cunt grasping and spasming again as he filled her, filled her.

And one last hard push into every hole, as she felt him pour his own juice into her. It was thick and sticky and hot. It oozed past his tentacle to drip down her leg, as gouts of his liquid streamed into her.

Her back arched, her blood sizzled, and she went rigid with the most intense orgasm of her life. She felt it in every pore, every molecule. Mind and body fully involved, she bore down hard with every internal muscle.

She felt his own soundless cry of pleasure, even as she drifted off into oblivion.

He cradled her tightly, this fragile being.

Held her close to his center, wrapping her in waves of sated joy.


In her sleep, she turned, moving deeper into the tangle of Uralian arms that held her, and grasped him tightly in her own two arms.


Together, they slept, entwined.




Have a Heart…

Someone asked me in comments that i was responding to last night, if i’d managed to slap another heart sticker on Masters ass during our get-to-gether last week.

Remember He’d grabbed me the second i got into His car?

Remember He’d grabbed ALL the stuff out of my hand and pinned me?

Remember He’d pinched me to a moaning, wet mess across His lap, then “checked” my feet, changing up the torture, from painful grips to tickle torture (and o gawd it is such  torture…)?

You do? Good.

Then you know that i had little opportunity to attach a heart to Him, hiney or otherwise.

And yet.

i have to say, after telling you all that i sometimes will procrastinate, though not often, and often “ignore” things that i don’t want to focus on…that i am absolutely persistent, too.

That’s both a good quality and a bad one, don’t you think?

Later, in the car, after the orgasms, and the fart, and the sillyness, and the serious stuff…i reached around the front seat to fetch the clamps and such that He’d dumped there.

i handed Him the first set of clamps, which are not designed for D/s play, btw, they are just ones i found in the store. The first set isn’t too tight, meant for hanging kids artwork on a line to dry. They are big and blue and plastic, and M had fun sticking them on me to gauge reactions.

Meh…not so much.

The other clamps i found at Target. Dunno what their purpose is…though i use the extra’s in my room to hang my warm vests from a little “scarf rack” i have on the wall.

They grip verrah tight.

Those definitely got a sit up and take notice reaction from yours truly.

And of course, there was the wee heart i’d palmed, too.


i *know* …. i am just sooo naughty.

i trailed my fingers down His beard, along His jaw line, down His throat.

He growls at me, reading my body language expertly.

“What are you doing  little girl?”

“nothing Master,” i strive for a totally innocent voice.

Damn He knows me well, and before i can clap that heart on His throat, He grabs my hand, and steals that little “fucking heart!” away from me.

i explode into giggles, and He gives me the “scary Dom” face.

And pinches me, and then tries to shove it up my nose.

In the tussle, i got it back and tried again.

i do so love tussling with Him.

And somehow it disappeared. *shrugs*

i have *no* idea where it went.

Like, for reals.

What? YOU don’t believe me either?


Well, it’s time to part, i must be away and headed back to pick up middle son. One last kiss, one last laying of my palm against His heart.

And then i’m in my car, and happy and sad, such a poignant mix, as i drive back to Vanilla-ville.


The next day, we text, we email.

And then that night, the phone call.

There is danger in His voice…delicious and dark.

“Oh nilla,” sez the M….

His voice is like dark chocolate, and makes me *instantly* wet. i should be ashamed at how turned on i get, perhaps…….but i’m not.

“Want to guess what I found?”

“i—i have no idea, Master.” And it was true, i was clueless. A full day had passed, with much angst. Last Monday was a freaking trial for me, and Tuesday would turn out to be no better.

And He changes up our convo, goes into ‘narrative mode’.

So, there I was in the morning, taking my shower, scrubbing up, getting ready for work.

I’m rubbing myself dry with my towel, and then go into my bedroom to get dressed.

And what do you suppose, but as I’m buttoning my shirt, I feel this thing on my chest.

And I look in the mirror, and what do you think I see, nilla?

i am clueless. Thinking but not saying…a tick? A big pimple? Thankfully before i could say anything, He picks up His narrative.

it’s a heart nilla.

Specifically, half a heart.

And I’m not sure how you got it there, little girl.

But you can be sure that it’s going in my notebook of retribution.

A wise woman would have not made a sound. A smart woman would have made some appropriate comment about the Pat’s game. But this is nilla, and i’m not always wise, not always smart.

i laughed.

And i’m pretty certain that’s going to be an entry in “The Book”, too.


It was M’s birthday last week, and we didn’t manage  a hook up this week, which was sad. But it did give me time to order His birthday gift.

It’s a riding crop. With the perfect ending to this tale:Lover's super strap - Crop

And will be, i’m sure, the perfect ending to my tail….*giggles*

i know, isn’t that so naughty of me? It will be here in time for our play-day, too. i’ll be sure to report back to ya’ll about Master’s “hearty” use of it.

i wonder if the crop will go in “the Book” ? or simply be the resolution of my infractions.

There’s a conundrum!

Oh, and lest i forget…yesterday’s Riddle of Immense Proportions…

Several of you got it, notably, PEPPER, who got the right answer, right away.

And i had to laugh at Sin’s multiple guesses, coz i did the exact same thing to Him…i too guessed he was a midget, and gay, and one armed, tho i didn’t think of the “used his feet” line which made me laugh out loud!

But the truth of the matter is that Master’s Rope Guy is blind.

And you know what that means, right?

(this is the same follow up question that Master posited to me once i guessed ‘blind’…)

And this answer i got right away….

it means that His Rope Guy…does everything by feel.

*swallows hard*

That is…um..embarrassingly hot.

Um….Some Help Here?

So you all know how i told you last week that i rarely procrastinate (although i was in that post!)…right?

Well…..i do have one bad habit.

Okay, i hear snikkering there (and yes, i know snickering is spelled with a ck …it’s double kk’ed because it sounds more like how i hear the sound in my head…so bear with me!)…i confess….i really do have more than one bad habit.

This one is one that Master is working on.

If He says something that makes me UBER nervous…i ignore it.

Like He never said it.

Oh, not for orders, never that. But for things i know He’s saying to gauge my reaction to.

As if ignoring it will make it go away.


We talked late this morning (Sunday)…He’d been hoping we could hook up briefly this morning, but i was already out doing errands and left my M-phone at home, and thus, missed the text.

He’ll not make our meet tonight, so…we’ll be skipping a week.

Anyway, in the conversation, He reminded me of something He’s been asking about, and several times.

And i’d gotten the answer wrong, several times, and…(He’s going to read this before YOU all will…so i’m ..yeah…being open like this is scary when your Master is gonna see inside the slut brain…)…

So..ah…i forgot about it? Not really forgot, but got really busy and put it to one side and denied its importance. That’s a more truthful answer, actually.

To M, it was important. And today He upped the ante.

welllllll, nilla,

……He says, his voice almost a drawl. He’s musing as to my fate, i think, and i feel my heartrate rise, my pussy wet. Rut Roe.

Let’s up the ante shall we?  How about we say that you don’t get ANY more O’s until you guess the correct answer.


He’d sent me a picture of His rope guy’s work. Asking me what i thought about it. Which i did reply to. Then came the riddle. Which i did, in fairness, try to answer. Incorrectly, and more than once.

So here is his riddle, let’s see if YOU can figure it out…

First, there is a picture which i am not allowed to share. The room is dimly lit, a candle on the mantle. To the front, center, is a woman, standing in 3/4 profile.

We can’t see her face, only her tits.

The right one is right there, almost in our face, the left is barely visible, because her tits are wrapped tightly in rope, and jut out. Even in the dim light you can see her breast is swollen and purpled from the rope binding her.

It is an erotic sight, and one that makes me very wet. He (Master) goes on to say this:

That adjoining room is getting pretty crowded isn’t it. And besides his obvious rope talent, it’s even more remarkable when you realize that he’s …………………..

So, first i try guessing.  Wrong.

Then i get creative and set a scene to try to answer it. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Can any of you think of what goes on the end of that sentence? Because i want to paint an ug-lee picture for you.  Ever see the original Willie Wonka? Where the girl steals and eats the blueberry and then puffs up and turns purple and gets rolled out of the factory?

That will be your nilla, if i am denied O’s until i guess/figure out the answer to Master’s riddle.

Think about it. I’ll wait right here while you do….

…………………la dee…………………………la dee dah….

oh. done?

It’s not pretty is it? a red-headed, puffed-up-blueberry woman, chock-full of pussy honey from being denied o’s because she could not figure out her Master’s riddles.

Let’s see if it’s obvious to you. Maybe i’m too close to it? Maybe the idea of going O-less has me in panic mode and i’m totally fucked-out over it?

Dunno. But really?

Some help, here?



As our convo wraps up (no pun intended), He again repeats the line about the adjoining room getting crowded.

Like a turtle pulling into its shell,  i totally pretend i didn’t hear Him say it.

I don’t recall now if i said it or He did…that i was ignoring it.

“I know you’re ignoring it, nilla,” He says, his voice at once firm, and compassionate, and thrilling.

“and I’m not going to let you.”

My voice now is almost a whisper. “i know, Master.”


“Because You’re in charge, Master.”

Funny how few words it takes to put me in my place, isn’t it?

Sunday, Sunday…

Sunday has come to be a bit of a Master/nilla maintenance day. We usually get a wee time to be together, which helps us face the long times between playdates.

And it’s been two weeks since we could be face to face, last weeks unexpected snowstorm put a huge damper on our time ~ as in we didn’t get nuthin’ honey!

And His power was out until late Thursday, which really limited the amount of time we had even for texting and emailing.  All in all, it’s been a very dry spell, one of our rare times with extremely minimal contact.

Oh, and i was such a good girl, too.

Sometimes i get all pissy and moany about it, wanting Him, needing Him. He met His “obligations” to me…a morning greeting, and an orgasm instruction (or ZNN) later in the day…so that helped.

But i was glad that during this stressful time, i wasn’t part of that stress.

It’s hard coz we’re needy creatures, us submissives, aren’t we? I know from reading OPB’s that it’ s not just me, thank gawd!

And really?

Most times they, and by that i mean capitol T-  “They”, want us needy. But sometimes we’ve got to sit back and deal with the reality of things…and be big girls (or boys as the case may be).

Sunday morning saw my eldest two boys skipping church and staying home to help me rake leaves that were finally falling. Although our yard isn’t huge, its pretty big, and we have a lot of trees.

When the big tree fell across into my neighbors yard in the storm, it took down a lot of the limbs of surrounding trees, and so we spent time hauling all those smaller limbs to the road as well.  Raking, and limbing took us over 3 hours, not that we’re “done” as there are still leaves on the trees.

And still pockets of snow on the ground.

We had our first frost on Saturday night. (Isn’t that freaky-weird? 15 inches of snow without a killing frost first? The weather geek in me is doing cartwheels over this weirdness!!)

(And still some snow in sheltered locations 9 days later…? Usually November snow lasts about a day in New England.)

Okay, enough strange weather weirdness!

The nilla family was pretty tired by lunchtime, and we showered (not together, you pervs!) and ate lunch and then it was time for me to go to church for a meeting. Took middle son out to dinner after my meeting then back to church for his group event.

And then whisking away to meet Master.

Not even a hug, just a whisper of a kiss, really.  Had my secret stash of hearts in my hand, along with a few gifts for Him…two new kinds of clampy things.

Took off my glasses and then *WHAMMO* He was on me in a flash, grabbing my arm and pinning me down on the seat of His car and pinching and reminding me, very firmly, and very silently, of who Da Boss is.

The only sounds for a good 15 minutes were my moans. My cries of OW OW OW OW MASTERRRRRRR…and the occasional sound of attempted limb flailing.

That should say limb flailing, “Fail”…since He’d pinned me so i couldn’t move.

Dayam He’s good.

Then He had to check to be sure i’d followed directions.

This week He instituted a few “new rules”…and they are until He says so…so i dunno if it’s this week or next or forever.

uh…i have these weird toes. Okay not weird but different. My baby toes are small, with these teeny  tiny toenails that He finds silly/cute/charming.

i’ve had two pedicures now, and each time, the person doing it has commented on my teeny baby toenails.

Master is really getting into my feet, which, okay, is a natural outflow of His shoe-fetish. And this weeks Sunday instruction was to paint my toe nails black..except the babies, which are now scarlet red.

And of course He “had” to check it out in person despite the pix i’d sent on Friday night….which meant checking my reflexes, and tickle responses.


Still ticklish, in case you’re curious.

We’re playing and fooling and i’m giddy and giggling, and i’ve had a few O’s at His hands…and i’m kneeling on the seat.

And okay, i’m just gonna say it and get it over with here, Master.

i fart.

Just a little one, mind you, not one of those nose-searing Man style farts.

A teeeny little “pfft” kinda toot.

Of course, the Man who doesn’t hear all that well hears that. Of course He hears it.

“Was that a fart?” He jolts upwards. “nilla, did you just fart in my car???!!!

And i giggle and blush and hide my face and say ‘yes Master’…and He’s off on a roll, teasing me mercilessly about farting in His car, and now He’s got to get a man of the cloth in there to re-bless it, coz who wants to ride in a car with nilla-fart in it…and on and on, and i’m giggling and beet red, and then He just stops, looks me in the eye.

Did He grab my hair then? Or just my attention? i forget.

“This,” He says in His “serious voice”….and i’m looking at Him and i just know what is coming next. And i’m shaking my head ‘no no no no no’ and He rolls right over my objections.

“This,” He repeats, “is bloggable.”


Consider this blogged, Master. Geeze. Didn’t we just have a convo, aisha, about sensual humilation? I wonder if “farting embarrassment” is under that umbrella?

Two other rules this week….ass plug while writing my novel each day. And on Wednesday, any blog work i do, either responding on OPB’s or work in my blog, or blog responses, must be left-hand typed only.

And i can’t duck out of it and do all my work Tuesday or Thursday.

He’s keeping my attention focused right where it ought to be.

On Him.



Wrong Place, Wrong Time (6)

Her asshole pulsed to the beat of her heart. Invaded, captured, punished.

She looked up at him,  her Uralian “owner” as she lay on the floor at his feet. Independent to her core, this was the hardest part to deal with, that of his “ownership” of her.

Yet hadn’t he just proven that he could, would and did have full control of her, shoving that tentacle up her ass that way? Holding her in place and making her take it up the butt was a pretty effective way of showing which of them was in charge.

She was grateful, in an odd way. Grateful that he’d not just picked her up and broken her. Picked her up and shoved her back into the anti-grav locks as she had been first held here.

She looked up at him with large, damp eyes, torn between a lingering anger at her situation, and the thin trickle of lust that being dominated insinuated into her body.

Apparently her Dom didn’t even need to be humanoid.

:attend your task :

yes, she started to speak then caught herself before she made “mouth noises” and got a smack for it. Uralians didn’t like auditory stimulation.

: yes, Sir:  she mindspoke softly to him, being more respectful now than ever before. As she would to an Earth ‘Master’, she supposed.

Rolling to her side, she slipped back into a single-legged kneel, one leg tucked under her. She searched the floor for the release tool, when his tentacle lay across her shoulder, offering it to her.

: oh, thanks :

She felt his satisfaction that she had responded appropriately, soft waves of amber warmth passing through her.

She released the lower panel, slowly, carefully. He reached out and helped her set the heavy panel to the side.

The interior of the bulkhead was dark, with coils and wires and the occasional running lights along fiber-optic lines.

:is there light? a flash-beam? :

There was a pause, and a moment later, his arm was back with a form of hand torch. Her hand fit inside imperfectly, it was designed, obviously, to sleeve over the pointed tip of a tentacle. By fisting her hand, she was able to secure it somewhat, though it left her one-handed as she began to ease her way inside the bulkhead.

As her foot slipped inside, she felt his tentacle wrap around her ankle. A warning? She felt nothing from him, in fact, she felt nothing from any of them, just a sense of …waiting.

The bulkhead curved to the right, and she tugged at her ankle. He’d have to let her go if he wanted her to fully check the integration of the inner panels to the cables that passed through them from the ships core.

There was a hesitation, then release. She kind of missed it, actually. It was cooler in here, with the coolant flow valves so close by, and she shivered.

Goosebumps peppered her naked body as she slid deeper inside the bulkhead. She had to be getting close to the main panel.

She played the beam of the flashlight ahead.


There it was, the dull black of the panel peppered with sinuous lines of data flow. She slid along the length of it on her ass, scooting along, identifying the feeds. Spectrometer. Thruster. Oh, the defense array. If she punctured that, they’d be sitting ducks.

Of course, so would she.

She bypassed that, and moved deeper.

The beam of light illuminated the very last juncture, a thick tangle of interfaces. Life controls, bio-feeds, this was the worst tangle of data tubes.

What the fuck?

She played the lights along the feed lines again.

She skootched forward. What the fuck was that entangling the lines?


The black cloud of fear hit her hard, fast.

She scooted back several feet, and came out of it. Her heart was racing, hands trembling. She was panting and sweating.

There was more. An undertone that frightened more than fear, an echo to that “loss” from Violet.

Entwined in the tubes and vacuoles of the inner workings was the smallest Uralian she had ever seen. He must be taking some sort of energy from the flow-tubes, sustaining him.

But he was weak.

Very, very weak. And suddenly she understood. A baby. Violet’s baby. How he had come to be here, inside the inner workings of the bulkhead was a mystery to be solved another day. A wave of empathy flowed from her.

:oh, poor wee baby: she crooned softly to him. She pushed the image of Violet, the blues and scents, as best she could remember, towards the young Uralian as she began to scoot forward towards him.

:helping, i’m helping Mama: 

Her inner voice was soft as butter, trying to pour it over him. That burst of fear he’d thrown at her had drained him. She could see the small mass of his body, the faint pulses of life-lights through translucent skin.

So weak.

Softly, slowly, gently, she slid up to where he hung, and eased the hand-light off her arm. Cupping her hands around him, she sent soft cooing thoughts to him, waves of his Mama.

It was, apparently, the right thing to do, for in a second, tentacles that had wrapped around the tubes had released, and wrapped around her in a tight embrace.

She could feel his faintness.

She skootched backwards, slowly, trying to not jar him. She scraped her left hip when she forgot a bend in the passage, and nailed her head when she didn’t bend low enough to make it below a thick pipe assembly.

She saw stars, but sucked it up, feeling the baby in her arms grow weaker, now that he’d separated from the raw feeds. He needed energy, she realized.

She stopped and took one tentacle and placed it over her belly. Breathing deeply, she focused on pushing energy towards him. His suckers latched onto her and she felt a rush of dizziness. Good. He could feed a bit from her.

She was near the entry, could see the light when she looked over her shoulder, even as her energy flagged. She needed to get closer, she was still out of reach here.

Every inch felt like a mile as the baby fed from her energy. She felt the growing blackness at the edge of her vision, and pushed, hard, hard backwards.

She never felt the tentacles wrapping around her as she fainted.

***   ***   ***

Sahara woke slowly.

She was warm and nestled and comfortable. Around her was a thick and silent blackness.

She raised her head and peered around. Too damn dark to see anything.  Totally disoriented, she lifted her hand to her forehead.  The last thing she remembered was…what?

“Quarter Lights” she croaked.

The lights came on in her cabin, dim enough to not shock her eyes. She was naked, and warm, yes. In her cradle, yes. What the fuck?

She cast through her mind.

“Position” she called out.

no response.

“Computer!” she barked, peremptorily. “Position!”


She cocked her head, listening to the engines. Silence.

She recalled then, turning everything to the bare minimum of life support so the Uralian ship wouldn’t find her as she mined diamonds in the edges of their sector.

She slipped from her cradle and padded out to the main room of her runabout.  The message light was blinking on her front panel, a soft and winking blue.

She flicked the toggle.

There was a rush of displaced air, tickling her still nude body, teasing her hair.

Transport surge, she thought, panicking.

“What the…”……..and suddenly, tentacles wrapped around her, heat, electric pulses,  and cool alien flesh dancing in trails around her skin.

One pressed into her mouth, gagging her to silence.

remember : a rich, markedly male voice chimed in her head. The tones were resonant, sending a response through her entire body. She was suffused in amber, warmed by violet, scented in caring and compassion.

It was almost a chant, one she felt as well as heard in her head.  There was a dazzling flow of memories, dark and light, being suspended, the blows to her body, the penetration of her ass; a child hugged safe between her breasts…..the flow went on for some moments.

She ceased struggling, but was still held tightly, wrapped in his arms.

Her owner, Os.

:remember, Sahara:

:i do. i remember. i remember all of it now:

:you have healed,and slept, while we kept watch for you here. your energies have been replenished. it is time for your choice. remember, Sahara, it is time to collect your reward:

She did remember. She had no idea what the reward would be. Free passage through the Uralian sectors? Somehow she doubted that. And she knew that she would be terribly disappointed in them all if that was their offer.

:i am listening, what is the reward:

: never before has one of your kind been allowed to remember encounters with us.:

Oh, wasn’t that an interesting tidbit. He didn’t say they’d been killed, just memory-wiped. That would explain some of those space-cases she’d heard rumors of, wouldn’t it? And certainly her own small dose of amnesia just now.

: never before have one of your kind proven useful, or understanding of our Kind:

: you saved a youngling. They are rare and precious to us. And he:

There was a pause, as if Os debated with himself. She sensed his innermost ‘shrug’ before he continued.

:He will be leader of us one day:

Somehow she understood he meant Leader with a capitol “L”, the one that would rule over the entire Uralian population.

: There is little that you could ask for that would be denied you.  Treasure, in the diamonds your kind uses for drive engines, or some other mineral you find pleasure in:

She felt the disdain there. What a snob!

: or pleasures. Pleasures  of my Kind, that you will never have experienced before:

She could feel it, he knew that she had found his beating her to be a painful pleasure. Geezuz, was there no secret keep-able around him?


She sighed. She knew what she wanted. But to ask for it…and wasn’t that the key?

She placed her hands on the tentacles that wrapped her, and projected her feelings to Him.

how alone she was

how it had felt to be emoted with, to feel those ripples of love, and compassion, and even the teasing

how it felt to be fully integrated with them, knowing that she was not alone, could not be alone, separate

adrift, even

He clasped her tightly as he absorbed her thoughts and feelings. How good it felt, even as she stood wrapped in his many arms, to finally let go.  To let him in, fully and willingly.

In being caught, she was finally free.

In the right place. At the right time.

***   ~  fini  ~   ***

nilla note…..

i could have. i want to. i left out the best part didn’t i?  but it seemed, in some fashion, to diminsh the storyline.  However…all that said. . . if you want more, want to see where this goes, chime in. i’m not sure i’m done with Sahara and Os yet…perhaps, as tis said, the best is yet to come? Do let me know if you want more (including the sex scene ya’ll are dying to read…i know you. (and i feel the same way, kinda…)