Stuff and a Reprint

Today is TMI Tuesday.

Of course, i prefer to do things in my own fashion…so rather than following along with a series of predetermined questions, i thought i’d share a little nilla stuff with you all, especially since i didn’t do it on Sunday.

Master and i got together Sunday morning for a wee bit of face time at Starbucks. I was silly and giggly and just so glad to see Him after not being able to connect  last week. I just love the way His bearded face feels under my palms as i lean in to kiss Him, the soft touch of His lips on mine. Then too, there is the fast and unexpected thrust of His tongue spearing into my mouth, and the very subtle, painful pinch on my side.  How lovely to belong to someone who feeds me those little gifts! Sweet, and sexy and ouchie, right there in Starbucks. To outsiders, i’m sure we looked like a ‘normal’ couple greeting one another. But between us? Fire and pain and Dom,  joy and pain and submission.

I was the first to arrive there.  Picking the only open table, i sat down and settled in, prepared to pass the time until Master arrived, reading. The story is one that i am deeply enjoying,  A Walk for Sunshine. It’s a true story, about a guy who hiked the Appalachian Trail, from end to end, which is something i used to dream about doing. Now it’s there on my bucket list. Anyway,  i was content, reading, sipping my tea. Master wasn’t expected for another 20 minutes or so, and i settled into my chair, opened my kindle, and was instantly on the AT, hiking along.

I catch something out of the corner of my eye. Turning, i see Him. Standing just slightly behind where i was sitting, and watching me.

It’s as though someone has turned on a switch. Suddenly, i am filled with a rush of happy…some of it is lust, to be sure, and some of it is desire, for i want Him continuously. But so much of it is just pure joy at seeing Him. Gosh, but i love that Man.

I pop up for the hug and kiss described above, and then sit, glowing, so happy to be with him. Boy is “happy” an inadequate word, but then again,  you don’t read here to get a thesaurus of words, do you? Just imagine yourself, insanely happy…and that’s me, with Him.

We chat a bit, and i offer to fetch His coffee for Him,  and then He says it. This little thing that begins to make me …thrum. He is like a musician with an instrument (me)….and He knows exactly, exactly,  how to play me and make my body sing.

“In a while, a little while, I’m going to tell you a little story. A story that will make you smile, then laugh….and later…will be the instrument of bringing you great pain, little girl.”

There is a flutter in my heart AND my pubes…and you will never know……the amount of control i showed by NOT bugging the shit out of Him for the tale. Okay, aisha will know, Donna will know, now that they’ve met me IRL and know how impatient and un-shut-upable i can be… self restraint is NOT my forte!

It is not by happenstance that He calls me a 4-year old.

Sunday, i was, for that moment, 52, and mature. But i yearned to know the tale of humor…and later woe for my ass…

Finally He begins talking. He…gets this gleam in his eyes. They glint like polished agate under the sun… twinkling and so gorgeous. And i know— this — is the story. Leaning forward, i’m soaking in every word.

He was at the gym. Had a terrific work out. Perhaps, even, a great workout. He was torn between heading home in his sweats, or going out to His local coffee shop to get some work done. It was Saturday night, and He’d had a busy week, as he went back and forth on this, he decided, at the very least, to hit the showers at the gym.

guess what I saw then, little girl?

I sat there, still mesmerized by His voice, wracking my brain. “Soap?” i say, in my best stupid voice, and making Him laugh.  I shake my head slowly, from side to side, totally clue-less.

Freshly showered, and towel-wrapped, he sauntered to his locker. Finally deciding to head home, He reaches for His good jeans, which were hanging on the open locker door. They were hung by the right hip, so that the pocket part was on the inside of the locker.


Can you guess?

For a moment, i couldn’t figure out why He had risen from His chair, and moved to stand in front of me. Turning, He pulled the pocket away from His butt, and there it was, the little heart i’d snuck on there, many weeks before.

Remember the coup i pulled at Starbucks, getting a heart on his throat? Guess He’d never found the second one i’d stuck just inside His back pocket…and He hadn’t worn those jeans more than once or twice since then.

*crazy mad giggles*

oh, how sweet! How FUNNAH…!!!

I’d stuck a heart sticker on His ass. And He never even knew it was there until this Saturday night, at the gym!

He told me that His first response was:

That fucking cunt….

Mwahahahahahahahaha…oh GODS!!!

i erupted in laughter. People around us stopped and looked at me, at us, and smiled at my out-and-out guffaws, as He returns to His chair and sits.

As my hilarity dies down, he pulls out His phone, and replays that laughing message i left Him the first time that i counted coup on His ass…telling Him to not be a “heart-ass” and the rest is giggles… and raises His brow suggestively.

He knows i remember Him beating the fuck out of my ass the last time i listened to that recording. Over His lap, ass up, being smacked repeatedly with His hand, as He hit replay over and over.  (His hand should be registered as a Weapon of Ass Destruction, just sayin’…) After He’d turned my ass into Dom Mush, He’d said, “How funnay was *that* little girl? eh?” (and we all know the story about He who laughs last, now don’t we?)

He leans forward, and says in this dark, sexy, soft voice, eyes glittering…

you’ll pay for that, nilla.

in pain, you will indeed pay for that fucking heart!

And then He sits back in His seat and smiles that particularly wolfish grin that lets me know i will truly be in for it when next we meet…that this has gone into His long-term “things to do to/with nilla” agenda…

That smile puts nervous willies all the way down to my toes.

i’m torn between “i cain’t hardly wait…”  and “omg, i’ve got things to do straight through until next Christmas…”


He gives me another look, and leans forward again.

and I know you are sitting there right now, wet as can be. little slut.

I’m still kind of surprised i didn’t gurgle like i was holding a fish tank between my thighs  on my way out to my car, i was that wet….funny how He knew that, eh?  🙂


After Master spun His own little tale of darkness that made me laugh, we spent some time talking about His toys. There are two that i absolutely unequivocally HATE…

You never, ever take the Marine out of a guy who’s walked in that lifepath…and He watched me like a hawk as we talked. He knows when i avoid things, he knows my body language when i try to stay “neutral”…and it didn’t take Him…10 seconds to figure out the two hated tools….my pink hairbrush and His cane. FSCT is right up there, too…that thing packs a whallop.

The hairbrush is all my own stupid fault. I’d stopped at the store a few months ago on the way to meeting him, and found this awesome hairbrush. My hair (as you saw in one of those HNT pics) often gets bird-nest tangles, and i had these stupid mini brushes that took forever to get through the tangles. This brush is kind of like the one i have, but my handle has a ….?? gelly like covering that moulds to your hand. It is comfortable for my fingers to grasp, and the large paddle top gets through the tangles in half the time.

He fucking LOVES this brush. The sound of it, people. It is like thunder as it hits my flesh, and it marks me immediately. Not just red…it goes straight to purple.

It seems He too loves the cushy handle. It is one of His new favorite tools.

The cane just started to visit in the late fall. That thing hurts. Hurts like crazycake….omfg. There is an awesome post on Discerning Dom about canes. There is such pin-point pain  there…and like one commentor said DDoms site…the cane is way better in retrospect…

i grok that!


Okay, here’s another “stuff” item on the agenda for today. I think i’ve mentioned in comments but never in a “Stuff” post that there is a blog for those of you who are fans of my Darker Dragons….

I decided to separate the really dark stuff from here, because i often forget my tags …and different things ook out different people. Yet i like to air out the dragons, so to speak…

So, if you’ve wondered where the darker pieces are, look in the blogroll to the right over there —> and look for Dark Fantasies. I don’t publish there every day (but of course, if you subscribe to that, you’ll get the new posts right in your email box immediately after i hit the “publish” button…).

I tried to take the name Dark Dragons, but it was already taken…*pout*… I think there are about a dozen posts over there now.


and moving right along….and back to coffee houses…starting to visit with Master at Starbucks way back last summer, fed this little story,  resurrected from my  now sleeping “Snow” blog…

I don’t think i’ve ever done a reprint in all the time I’ve been blogging…but i hope if you’ve read it before, that you like it….and if you haven’t…kewl.

Tomorrow, back to our chicka with a dick…but for now, i present to you (pretend i’m waving my arm in a flourish of welcome!)….


I see you, watching me.

I wait in line for my turn at the counter. To pay the price for my items, head back to my car, my life.

My money is in my hand. Four people in front of me. And yet, your eyes dance over my form. Pause at my tits, rising and falling with my breathing.

Will they spill over the low edge of my slinky top? You watch to see, take the money from the next, ring the sale, pass the change.

But i see you are blind. Blind to all but me.

It arouses me. Amuses me. I feel my cunt respond to the message in your eyes. You want to put your hard cock between my tits and bang my chin with every hot, forceful thrust. You want to spew your cum onto my ruby lips, as you smile down at me.

You want to squeeze these tits hard together, pinching the nipples cruelly, while i moan and pant beneath you, begging for your hardness between my weeping legs.

One more customer gets your disattention, gives you money, asks for their change, as your gaze is locked on mine.

I smile, lick my lips. Your eyes follow my teasing tongue. I can’t see below your waist from where i stand, next in line, but i know you are hard. I see the pulse beating below your Adam’s apple, jolting mine to dance in sync.

I step to the counter. Show you my items. You see only my tits, my eyes, my needs. I give you the money. You glance down.

Seeing this Washington makes You smile.


right on old Georges forehead.

Keep the change, i say.

The Switch

for sephi…for planting the idea in my head in the first place….~n~

She lay in her bed staring at the ceiling and pouting.  She’d lost her boyfriend when she’d told him her fantasy. Not that he’d been all that psyched about the whole “coming out” about bondage and pain and all that shit, either.

It was clear the end had been approaching.

It still sucked.

Every girl has her fantasies, she knew it, and knew it well. Her girlfriends would giggle over cigs and beer when they had their monthly bar night. Cassie wanted to take it in the ass, and then get facefucked with the stinky cock. Monica wanted to have her nipples pierced, and her clit hood, so that she could wear a chain connecting all three sensitive areas. As for herself? She wanted a dick.

Oh, how the girls had errupted.

“You’re such a fucking slut. You ALWAYS want dick.” Cassie almost fell off the barstool, laughing. She was half gone; it never took more than two beers to set her off.

Monica tugged Cassie back up before she hurt herself. “Lemme git this straight,” she drawled in her deep Texas twang. “Ya’ll wanna cock. Not up your fuckhole…but instead of yer fuckhole? Like, Dude looks like a la-dee?” She bit her lower lip and played a wicked air guitar. The feather in her hair flopped into her face, and for a heartbeat she almost looked as tortured as SteveTyler.

Almost. But not.

“Yeah. I want a cock. So? This is fantasy right? I’ve always wondered what it felt like to be a guy. To feed your cock into the throat of your girl, the way she gags on it. How does it feel to have that long pee tube, to have the hot juices boil in your balls and spew out under pressure? How does it feel to have the tight ring of an asshole split apart and admit you, squeezing all the way in?”

Cassie waved her hand in front of her face. “Phew, it’s hot in here. Or maybe it’s just you.”

“What?” Ani stared at her very drunk friend.

“It’s my classic pick up line for a hot guy. If i see a bump start to grow, i know i gotta chance. That’s the bad thing about being a guy yanno…it’s hard to hide that old stick when it gets thick.”

She collapsed onto the bar in a fit of giggles. Ani sighed and shook her head. She knew it was over with her and the asshole, but she just wasn’t grooving with the girls tonight. She just wanted to go home. And jack off.

If she only had a cock.

She had no identity crisis. She loved being a girl. Loved the jiggle of her tits as she walked, the weight and heft of them. Loved the way her nipples cried when a Dom tortured them, and how the shot of lust ran right down to her clit when they were sucked or tugged.

She fully identified as a woman. She loved being fucked. Being dominated. Being used. Being loved. She loved sex.


She was insanely curious, every time she had a man’s dick between her lips, as to what, exactly, it felt like to them.

With the vanilla guys, they usually blushed and stammered a bit when she asked them how it felt, after.

‘Feels nice” was a common answer.

What the fuck was “nice”, anyway? She wanted facts, dammit!

She fell alseep, curled miserably in her bed.


She heard the sounds of a crying heart. oh dear, that can’t go on, she mused to herself.  She turned her head to find out where the throbbing sound was coming from.

Ah, the southwest. She flew on. A bat swooshed past her, swooping away from a near-collision. She waved her fist at him, but otherwise gave him no mind. She and bats had an understanding…most of the time. There had been that unfortunate episode in Tuscan a few months back, but she refused to dwell on the negatives.

The heart-sobs got louder.

Finally she found the house. She landed on the ledge. A pretty young woman lay curled up on her bed, sleeping.

Sliding in through the window, she raised her little wand. She tapped it gently on the girls head.


In moments she had the entire story. How totally bizarre. In all her years as a Fairy Godmother, she had never heard the like.

Blinking, she shook her head. This new generation was just fucking weird.

Nonetheless, if she could ease the suffering of one of her charges, so be it.

“Switch you want and switch you shall…now a lad and not a gal..

As I will it so it be…make the switch when I say three…”

And on the count of one–two–three, she waved her wand and tapped the girl on the crown of her head.

“That, as they say, is that,” she said to herself. “Oh, but one more thing…you will remember what it is to be a woman, to have these things done to you…and you will only be a lad until the setting of the next sun. Use your time wisely….”

And with that, she squeezed through the window, and went out to dance with the wind.


Ani woke with the need to take a piss so intensely that she could barely believe it. Never before had the need to pee made her feel so…strange. She rose and went to the bathroom.

Her balance was off a bit. She hit her shoulder on the door jamb and rubbing it, discovered it was swollen. What the fuck? She sat to pee and yelped aloud when her testicles hit the cold seat and she nearly squashed them.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!!!”  She yelped. Nature took over and a spurt of piss arched up over the seat and hit the side of the tub three feet away.

“FUCK” shouted Ani…. and quickly she pressed her penis down to point into the toilet.

What the FUCK….she had a dick! ???

She scratched her left pit, and found a thick mat of hair there. Gross! She’d just shaved her pits two days ago for fucks sake. Rising, she stepped over the urine line running across the bathroom and washed her hands in the sink.

She gave herself credit for not screaming when she saw the strange face in the mirror. Her eyes, but someone else’s mustache and beard. They were well trimmed but….she shook her head.

Her reflection matched the movement.

She still wore the silver cross that had been her mothers. She still had the tattoo over her left nipple…although it was now a dragon and not a dragonfly. And she had no tit…only a pec that was pretty impressive.

She had no fucking idea what was going on…she only hoped it wasn’t  a wierd-assed dream.

She walked from the bathroom, sprawl-legged. She watched her dick wiggle and sway with every step.




She did a little shimmy of a dance, watching with delight as the new piece of flesh between her legs bobbled and bounced with her movements.

She had a cock!


Seedlings (6)(fini)

verrah , verrah long….fair warning….here be dragons…and sweetness too….

He shrugged out of his silk jacket and pants. His sister sent him this same outfit every January, as a gift for the new Lunar Year.  Incongruously, under the fine Chinese silk  he wore thin white boxers that he bought at K-Mart.  They were comfortable, and inexpensive.  His cock had already leaked onto the front of the boxers, leaving a wet spot the size of  a dumpling. Quickly he shed those; folding the silk clothing, he placed them on the chair at the edge of the sleeping area, and placed the soiled boxers into the bamboo hamper in his tiny bathroom.

He stood in front of the toilet, coaxing urine from his body. He would  clear himself of any and all wastes  before he began. Earlier today he had cleansed his bowels, and eaten naught but rice, an offering to the dragon within him. If he were younger, he would have fasted; yet he knew he needed to maintain his strength for the ordeal to come.

Though he was considered ‘elderly’ by American standards, he was tough and strong. His body was wiry, and nearly devoid of hair, but for a small patch of white just above his penis.  His legs were strong, and not bowlegged.

After washing his hands, he headed to the kitchen for the second cup of tea. He looked at his Student as he passed through the sleeping room. She lay on the bed her body rippling with the effects of the tisane. Her body glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, looking golden in the dimly lit space.  Her flowering womb was leaking honey for him now, he could smell it in the air around her. She was ready for him.

His cock, semi-rigid, bobbed as he stepped into the small kitchen. It seemed his manhood was nearly ready, as well.  Taking up the teacup, he sipped. His eyes closed, and there was a sudden insistent throbbing in his testicles. His buttocks clenched, his toes curled against the cold linoleum floor.

He took another sip.

It felt as though he had swallowed lightning. His shaft flared into life, growing thick and hard. He’d always had a large penis, but now it was fully engorged for the first time in many years. A steady sticky stream of golden juice oozed through the slit at the top of his cock, the engorged head fat and bouncing with every heartbeat.

His hand shook when he lifted the second brush, and dipped it into the tisane.  A drop fell onto his cock making him grit his teeth. His cock grew harder. Thicker. Longer. He felt as if the skin would split he was so hard. Carefully he painted his shaft, from the base to the top, around the underside. He knew that painting the head of his cock would be the hardest part.

He held the cup under his testes and dipped them into it. The stream coming from his cock was turning into a river. His ass tightened, and he felt like he was on fire, burning from the inside out.

He needed to fuck!

He lowered the cup, and let the excess liquid drip back into it. Raising the cup again, he thought about just dipping the tip of his shaft into the elixir, but he could not. It would be too intense for him to withstand. Clenching his jaw with the effort, he stroked the brush from the base of the head up to the tip of his engorged cock. Each stroke brought intense sensation, increased the throbbing pulse he felt. His entire consciousness was focused on two things…the paintbrush and the head of his cock.

Over and again he painted that thick bulb. Arching his back in a spasm of intense need, eyes squeezed shut, he could hear the splatting of liquid being forced from his cock. It was both agony and ecstasy.

He thought of her, tied to his bed, open, wanton, waiting. His cock pulled him forward. He didn’t notice the teacup when it slipped from his fingers to shatter into a dozen and more pieces. His foot stepped into the small spill, and a shard of glass nicked his heel. The fluid seeped into his wound, soaking deep into his blood.  Heart thundering, he could only think now of that open gaping cunt, and the need to pound himself into it.

Gone was the thought of what lay buried within her awaiting  his enhanced semen. Gone was the thought of her as a young woman, almost a girl, laying helpless.  The drive of his testes, his cock lashed him onward.

He fell upon her like a ravening beast. His mouth and teeth latched onto one protuberant nipple as his cock found her slick hole. He was large now, very large. She was swollen, tight, holding the mystery within.

He would have to batter through her flesh to reap the rewards that he had worked a lifetime towards fulfilling.


She was barely aware. Intense sexual need took what little sense she had and thrust it down between her open legs. She wasn’t certain why her legs were open. She didn’t try to move, couldn’t move. The feeling of sex-need was too pervasive.

The bite on her nipple was pain and pleasure. The already persistent throbbing was suddenly swallowed and washed away with the sharp ravening against her tit. There was a probing between her thighs that was an answer to a question that she barely understood.


As if awakened by that one sibilant, hissing acquiescence, the beast that was knocking between her swollen cuntlips began battering. She wanted it.

Needed it.

“mooorrreee…” she breathed, the sound barely audible.

And a heartbeat later, it was inside. There was a jolt of pain as he crashed through her distended flesh, then a coo of joyful bliss as his thick hardness began thrusting up, higher, deeper into her belly.


Was she speaking or thinking? It didn’t seem to matter.

He answered her call and began thrusting.


He had never been this huge. Never had the feeling that his heart was lodged firmly in his dick.  Withdrawing, and pressing onward, much as a Samurai would when fencing with  an enemy, he slowly gained ground.

At last, his belly pressed against hers, their pubic bushes rubbing together. Her head was thrown back, mouth agape, as she sucked in air like a drowning victim. For a moment, he felt two heartbeats, his own, and hers, meeting there, where his cock pressed hard against her cervix.

Then the beast rose inside of him, and he began fucking her in earnest. He was not a gentle tender lover, but a dragon, seeking release. His cock began to batter her insides, roughly taking her to places he had only dreamt of. His head floated with scenes and sensations. How many generations of ghosts fucked with him between her tender, pale thighs?

He fucked her past the point of pleasure, and still he fucked. His cock thrust and speared into her fertile belly. The belly which had been prepared for him just  a day ago, and lay in wait of that final offering, his fertile sperm.

His gnarled fingers grasped her large tits, the nipples like hot rocks against his palms. He saw tears on her face, but pressed on. Watered by her spirit, his lust grew deeper.

At long last, his testicles began to gather. He felt the preparations along his shaft, the teasing tickle, the tightening, as if his body were the bow and the dragon was pulling him taut.

His arrows sprang free, boiling from his body and steaming up into her open belly. His brutal pounding had softened her, opened her, and his semen was propelled deeply up and into her womb, where it was received by what lay waiting to be fertilized.

Gasping, he collapsed onto her. For good or naught, it was done.


She woke in her own bed. It was once more just past noon. She blinked at the sun shining brightly through the living room window, and slanting across the floor into her room.

She felt marvelous. Her pussy was a bit sore, but she thought she remembered masturbating last night before she fell asleep.  With a last feline stretch, she slid from her bed. She turned on the grow light.

No sprouts yet. Still, it was only day two.  Idly she rubbed her belly. Whatever Mr. Wu had given her the evening before had soothed that beast. Padding into the bathroom, she peed. She noted her urine was a greenish hue. Weird. Likely something in that tea he’d given her.

Heading into the kitchen, she turned on the teapot. She saw the packet of herbs propped up against her cereal box. She didn’t remember doing that, but then again, she’d been very relaxed when she came home. Come to think of it, she didn’t really remember coming home, either.

Another yawn and stretch, then turning, she peered into the cabinets. Nope. She didn’t want cereal. Didn’t want eggs. Or bacon, though the thought of that was somewhat appealing.

She reached up for her favorite mug with one hand, rubbing her tummy with the other. The teapot whistled, and she poured her first cuppa. What she really wanted was a steak. Thick and juicy, and barely cooked. The thought of it made her mouth water. Max grilled a wicked steak, but she had no idea what time he and Alex would return from their ski-cation.

Sipping at her tea, she decided to go out to a breakfast place she knew that served steak and eggs. It wouldn’t be near as bloody as she wanted but right now, she’d take it.

She dressed quickly and headed outside. It was nippy and the wind was teasing her hair. Puffy clouds scudded across an almost painfully blue sky. The land lay in soft, white folds, full of blue shadows and the brilliant dazzle of ice-diamonds.  A jay called raucously from the hedge as she passed; a flurry of sparrows chittered in the pine.  Cars shwooshed by, their tires throwing up beads of wetness from the roads.

She slid into a booth inside the warm restaurant. The smells of fresh cooking foods, and the pungent tang of overheated coffee made her stomach clench. The waitress came by, and she placed her order, urging the girl toward speedy service.

A cup and teapot arrived at the table, and she pulled the homemade teabag from her coat pocket. It wouldn’t be quite as good as what she could make at home, but it would suffice.

She was staring idly out the window, foot tapping impatiently against the post that bolted the table to the floor. She felt a presence at her table. Looking up, expecting the waitress, she was pleasantly surprised to find Mr. Wu smiling down at her.

“good morning my Student.”

“Mr. Wu!” She didn’t think she’d ever seen him outside of his store before.

“I would be honored if you would join me, Sir.”

He slid into the booth with a genteel inclination of his head. They chatted while they waited for her meal to arrive. He declined having anything more than hot water for his own tea, but he talked to her while he watched her consume her meal.

She didn’t think she’d ever had a steak for breakfast before. It was the best meal, ever.

Mr. Wu slid a piece of paper across the table to her. Wordlessly she questioned him with her gaze, but he nodded for her to open it. It was an invitation to a party.

4 February, 2012

Year of the Dragon Party

“You will come.”

She wasn’t certain if it was an order or a question. But she knew that she wouldn’t miss it for the world. An authentic Chinese New Year celebration? Hellya!

“It is my honor to attend, Mr. Wu.”

He smiled and nodded, then slipped nimbly from the booth. There seemed to be a robustness about him today. She smiled and waved goodbye as he left.


There were not many people at the party. A dozen or so elderly men, and their wives. She was the only non-Chinese person there, and was by far the youngest.

She had been feeling unwell all day, but had a strong compulsion to be out of the house. Alex had planned an in-house date with the snowbunny he’d tangled with last weekend on his ski trek, and Max was headed out with his buddies to some kind of special football party.

Although she’d dressed nicely for the party, when she arrived at his shop, Mr. Wu had pressed a package into her hands, and bid her to please accept his gift, and to wear it to the party.  The few guests were spread through his shop. They nodded and smiled encouragingly at her as she went upstairs and dressed in his bathroom.

The silk felt cool and lovely against her skin. She was feeling hot today, and she hoped it was not the onset of the flu. Sipping at the cup of tea he had passed to her as she went upstairs, she felt the onset of calm complacency.  Her nipples rose and were visibly poking out the front of the dress, yet it didn’t really seem to matter all that much. The crimson silk clung to her curves, and flowed over her legs with every whispering step. The dragon was embroidered in such a way that the tail wrapped around her waist and lower legs, while the head passed up and over her shoulder as if to devour her left breast.

She slipped on the silk slippers, and let her hair out of the more casual ponytail she’d arrived in. The red outfit drew highlights from her lush chestnut hair. She barely believed it was her, looking at herself in the mirror over the sink.

She finished the tea, and decided to pee since she was up here. Again, it was green. She kept meaning to ask him about that.

By the time she was downstairs, a languor had settled through her. She smiled, and listened to the different music. There was the sound of fireworks popping off outside, and the quiet murmur of voices speaking around her.

“It is time.” Mr. Wu was taking her hand, and drawing her upstairs. Obediently, she lay back upon the bed. He drew the silk garment up, baring her pussy, but she only smiled, lost in a dream-like contentment.

He quickly threaded her arms through silk cord nooses that he had prepared earlier. He tightened them to restrict some, but not all movement. As he prepared the girl, his guests began filtering upstairs.

A ripple along her belly and a soft ‘oh’ was greeted by the guests with a collective, in-drawn breath. Her head drew back and she moaned deep in her throat. The watchers leaned forward a bit, eager.

A long green coil slipped from between her folds. It was joined by another, and another, all growing fast. Twining about her legs, and growing up her torso, the vines grew thick and heavy.

She was panting now. There was an opening between the vines, an opening that led straight from her womb. Her belly rippled, and she groaned. Her fingers bit into the rope that held her hands cuffed over her head, and pulled as she strained and pushed at her confinement.

She screamed, punching the room with the sudden sound, as a large, ovoid object began pressing out of her hole. At first, only the tip was visible. More pressure, more pulling from the vines to open her further. Soon the full thickness of it was pressing right at the edge of her opening. With a sudden twisting surge, it was out. It came with a gushing rush of green fluid, soaking the bed between her spread thighs.

She was crying, but no one took note. Every eye was focused on the bud that had appeared. The end of it was still rooted inside of her; yet the bulbous bud continued to grow and swell.

For a moment, perhaps two, it seemed that nothing was happening. Breath was held, silence quivering in the room, and then a gasp as, soundlessly, the bud began to peel open.

The flower was large, and intensely pink. The giant chrysanthemum covered her entire pussy; petals opened from thigh to thigh.

“Soon…” Mr. Wu crooned.

In minutes the flower went to full beauty to the end of its life-cycle. It transformed from pink to red over several heartbeats. Brown began to tinge the outer petals, and in the center of  the flower, seeds began to form. Little spikes drove up from that center, each bearing a cluster of seeds. Each seed transformed from green to brown, dried and hardened.

As the flower folded in upon itself, Mr. Wu reached out, and gave a gentle tug. It came away from the stem easily. Reverently he gathered the seeds into his palms. Passing around the room, he offered one to each person there.

The year of the Dragon promised immortality if one carefully nurtured the seeds of life.

Reverently, they ate.


Max and Alex looked at her with wide grins as she danced across the living room. She carried a sheet of paper and waved it over her head in jubilation.

“I GOT IN I GOT IN I GOT IN!” she yodeled. For several years she’d been trying to get into veterinarian school, but there was always more students than openings available for them.

This seemed to be her lucky year.


She stopped by Mr. Wu’s shop. She couldn’t wait to tell him that, with his encouragement, she’d finally been accepted at one of the best schools in the country. Her dreams of being a vet were becoming reality.

She stared at the front of the shop.

It was blank. She knew she’d not stopped by for a few days but what the fuck was going on here? She propped her hands on the window peering inside.

“OH, he’s gone honey.” Startled, she whipped around. A woman stood there, holding a “For Sale” sign and a hammer.

She blinked. Surely she would have heard about his ….passing…

“He…he’s….dead?” she asked, feeling tears burn her eyes.

“Oh, hell no. The old geezer finally got it in his mind to go live with his daughter down in San-Fran. But he said if I ran into you, to give you this.” She pulled an envelope from her jacket pocket. It was elegantly designed, with the logo of a flaming dragon on the front.  In his beautiful calligraphy, he had written “Student”.

How very apropos, today of all days.

“Thank you.” Distracted, she took the envelope, and walked home. Why would he leave without telling her? It was all so …. weird. She shook her head.

At home, she went to her room, subdued. Closing her door, she sat on her bed and let the tears fall. Her little garden was brimming with life, tomatoes already several inches tall. This was her best start year ever, and it never failed to soothe her spirit, to come in here and see the perseverance of nature to survive.

She opened the envelope, after a little cry. Wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, she still felt a sense of bereavement and loss.  Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper, and a smaller packet. She shook it.


Of course.

She smiled and read his note.

Student, I have decided to accept my daughters urgent pleas to move in with her family. I am old, and tired. You have been my best student.

The dragon smiles upon you, little one.




She was 32 years old and finally finished with school, licensing boards, and internships. After a long, long journey, she had moved from the city to the country, and hung out her veterinarians shingle.

She served a large county, and spent a decent amount of time on the road attending to cows and horses, and even the occasional llama. She spent even more time caring for the dogs and cats and ferrets and all the other pets that came to her office. Since her office was part of a large barn which was part of the house and fields she’d purchased, it was more than convenient to go to work each day.

Today was a rare day off. Thus far, on this summer Sunday morning, she’d had a leisurely cup of tea, read a chunk of the paper, and fed the animals currently boarding with her.

Deciding that the house was too limiting a place to spend a gorgeous morning, she slipped on her sneakers and headed off for a walk with her mutt, Rufus. He bounded ahead of her as she strolled along. They took the shortcut through the woods, and came out on a cross-road to her own Mulberry Lane.  Rufus set up a huge bark-fest, and she hurried around the curve in the road to find him barking at a stranger, and not a treed cat as she’d supposed.

“RUFUS…GET OVER HERE NOW,” she commanded in her stern-voice.

Whining, he threw one last regretful look at the man standing stock-still, and came to her side.

“I’m so sorry, I hope he didn’t startle you,” she called out. There was something familiar about the man. There weren’t that many Asians who lived out here. He was young, although the gray at his temples informed her that he was perhaps a bit older than he looked.

“No problem, Miss…..?”

“It’s Doctor, actually, Dr. Leeza Macguire.” She extended her hand as they drew closer.

“Aah, the veterinarian.”

She smiled. “Yes, exactly.” As  her hand touched his, she would’ve sworn that electricity sparked between them. It shot a current straight to her pussy. She shook her head at her foolishness.

“And you are?” she asked with an almost shy smile. She was never shy with men. Geeze, suddenly she felt like  a gauche 20-something again.

“Bai Longwei” He replied, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm, and strolling with her. “It’s an old family name. The origin lies in the Old Chinese language; it  means “White Dragon,” which in mythology, is symbolic of immortality.”

She turned her head, studying him. He met her perplexed gaze with and impassive smile.

She came to her senses, realizing that she’d been staring for far too long to be polite.

“I’m sorry, that was quite rude of me. It’s just that you look very familiar to me.”

“People say I have an ancient spirit,”  he replied, straight-faced.

“But perhaps you have seen me about town. I am an herbalist. That is, I use the ancient Chinese way of healing the body through the use of herbs.”

“I’m familiar with that…there was a very important person in my life who was also an herbal healer. You almost look a bit like him, I think. He was very old, and I haven’t heard from him in years. Still, I wonder, the field of herbology being so small…if you may have heard of Mr. Wu. He is likely passed now, but…I had a bit of a crush on him. He was a wonderful man.”

Bai smiled, and patted her hand.

“Now that we have met, may I offer you the hospitality of my home? I have a feeling we will become good friends. We can talk of your Mr. Wu, and share a cup of herbal tea that I think you may enjoy? That is, if you have the time…?”

At her nod, he smiled, and they walked, talking towards his home.

He’d found his student again, at long last.

The End

Seedlings (5)

The bed was covered in a russet silk, with a large dragon embroidered on it.  She saw, and was once again impressed at some deep level, at Mrs. Wu’s handiwork.  She watched, impassively, as he carefully folded the cover back, revealing simple white  sheets. Yet from the sheen she could tell that these were also made of silk. The bed itself wasn’t large, more like an oversized cot, and it sat low, just barely above the floor. He guided her down to sit on the edge, then fingertips touched gently on her forehead,  pressing her backwards.

“Lay down, student.”

He rarely used her name, preferring to remind her of her place. That she was a submissive woman was proper. He knew she was dazed, and that the memory of what happened here would remain choked in  a foggy haze.

She lay back, a pretty girl, her hair fanning across the bed. Silk on silk. He appreciated beauty, now more than ever before in his life.

Before he set about disrobing her, he shuffled to the kitchen. Filling the teakettle with filtered water, he set it on the stove to boil.

Returning to the sleeping area, he looked down at her. She lay exactly as he had left her. Good. His herbs were working to full efficacy.

His hand slipped under her back to unfasten her bra.  To his confusion, however, it had no clasps. With a grimace, he took a pair of silver scissors.  Lifting the fabric from where it hugged her body, he cut between her breasts, then the shoulder straps. He rolled her shoulder to one side, and slipped the now useless thing  from under her, and tossed it into his trash bin.

Her tits were plumper than he preferred in a woman, but her nipples were pleasing to his eye. Next he removed her socks, then her sweatpants.  He smiled his knowing smile when the waistband slipped past her womanhood. She wore no panties underneath.

Her vulva was red and swollen. Drops of dew flecked along her folds, glowing a soft golden-green. She was ready. More than ready.  Her womanhood was begging for a cock now.

Yet there were preparations to be made. He slipped back into his kitchen to prepare another special tisane. As the pot began to rise to a boil, he washed his hands, measured out his herbs. As he had downstairs, he spooned them carefully into a mesh bag, and set it into one cup.  He prepared a second cup with a second packet of herbs, being careful to not mix them.

Now was not the time for error.

Pouring the boiled water into the two cups, he set the timer, then went back to the sleeping area. At the foot of the cot was an engraved chest. From within, he took several thick silk cords. Gently he took her wrists and pulled them over her head, wrapping them beautifully in the cord, wrists together. There was a large ring on the wall behind the bed. Skillfully he tied the rope through the ring. She would not pull it away no matter how hard she might tug.

There were matching rings set into his floor, one on each side of the bed, and covered by rugs. These he scooted out of his way. Another length of rope wound around her left ankle; pulling her leg down from the bed, so that her toes almost touched the floor, and once more he finished off by securing the end of the rope through the ring embedded decades ago into the floor. He had been preparing for a long, long time. Rising, he moved around the bed, and made quick work of tying her right leg as he had her wrists and other leg.

The timer chimed before he could make his last tie, but he had expected that. He looked down at her as he moved past the bed. She stared up at him, eyes clouded with the drug that beat through her.


He had rarely thought that about European woman, finding them more overblown than his personal tastes in women went. Mrs. Wu had been a tiny delicate flower of a woman, always quiet, staying in the background and doing all in her power to take care of him. It had been a primary goal in her life.

Yet, she had not been the One.

To have found her, here, still struck him as a gift from the Ancestors. Of all the places in the world he could have chosen to settle after Mrs. Wu’s passing all those years ago, he had found this place.

And his Student had found him.

Pausing for a moment, he drew his fingertip down her nose, across her lips. They too were flushed and reddened, as if maddened by a lovers mouth. He watched as her nipples tightened into tight, almost impossibly hard buds.

She was ready. So too would he be, soon.


The tea was decanted, filters rinsed. The herbs were thrown into separate trash containers. Taking a colander of ice, he filtered the first tea through, cooling it without releasing too much water into it.

He took the cup, and brought it out to where she lay quiescently. Taking one of his brushes, he dipped it into the tea, and painted it across her lips. Her tongue came out and tasted it, drew it inside of her. Her body arched and she moaned.

“Yes, it is good, is it not, Student?” His voice was silken, smooth, as he dipped the brush and again painted her lips.  Dipping again, his brush lapped around her right nipple. Quickly it puckered again, and flushed a beautiful poppy pink. Dipping and painting, he covered her nipple three times, watching it swell and rise and deepen in color.

Her breath came in pants now, as the herbs did their work. He rose and made his way to her other side. Her left nipple received the tisane as well. Her head tossed, her hips rose, and he recalled that he had wanted to make one more secure tie.  Setting the teacup and brush on the nightstand, he went to the chest and removed two more pieces of silk cord.

He tied a fat coil of it around her thigh, just above her knee.  Sliding the end of the rope first through the ring on the floor that held her ankle tie, he pulled it slowly taut, opening her leg wide. Holding the tension, he drew the rope up to the ring on the wall over her head, and tied it off. Repeating this for her other leg, he paused to examine his handiwork. She was totally restrained, open and available. She must accept what would happen to her now, she had no further options. Her lower lips were fully exposed, swollen and wet still. The lurch of his own arousal nearly caught him off guard.

“Soon,” he murmured, patting his crotch.

Retrieving the cup and brush, he set about coating her womanhood. Each pass of the brush over her folds, over her clitoris, over the gaping space where his cock would soon enter, caused her to gasp, moan and roll her hips. She was nearly incapable of movement, but he was pleased that her body begged so sweetly for him.

Carefully he lifted the dregs of the teacup to her lips and let the last few drops pass into her mouth. Rising, he shuffled to the kitchen to rinse the cup, and begin his own preparations.


Seedlings (4)

She wriggled on the stool in Mr. Wu’s back storeroom. She was so freaking horny! The room was warm, the lighting dim. So soothing. She rose and took off her coat, her scarf, her gloves.  It was even too warm in here for her sweatshirt. She pulled it over her head, and tossed it on the edge of the counter with her outerwear. Sitting in her exercise bra and sweatpants, she felt better.

Besides, this way Mr. Wu would be able to see her spots, and recommend a natural antihistamine to relieve them…although, come to think of it, they were not itchy.

She heard the soft whoosh of the curtain closing behind him. She loved the sound of the silk fabric, the shimmer and shine of it. She knew Mr. Wu’s long-dead wife had embroidered the dragon on it. She smiled at the man as he came into the small room. His cheerful face never failed to make her happy.

He showed her the packet of herbs.

“For tea. It will soothe your belly. I will brew the first pot, you watch me.”

She rose and stood beside him as he carefully scooped a rounded demitasse spoon of herbs, and slipped them into a tiny, fine-meshed bag. He drew the string tight, then wrapped the excess cording around the neck of the little bag.

“This will prevent the herbs from going into your tea; they taste bitter. Best to avoid that for now.”

As she watched him work, the teapot, which he had set upon the single hot plate, came to a boil.

He placed the bag into a fine china cup, and slowly poured the water over it. Pungent scents rose immediately. The tisane was a soft green-gold color.

“This will steep for 5 minute,” He held out his palm, all five fingers extended. She nodded.

“Then we remove bag without squeezing. Squeezing will  push out bitterness.”

She glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. 8:05.

“Mr. Wu, am i keeping you here too late?”

“You are my student. Teacher should make time for his most excellent pupil, yes?” She smiled at his response. He was always so sweet!

While waiting for the tea to brew, she spoke to him about her rash.

“I forgot and used Alex’s soap in the shower, i think. I hate the smell of it usually, but i was so tired that i just grabbed what was at hand. Now look at me!”

He traced a gnarled finger from her shoulder to her elbow. It made her shiver, that light touch, but also sent a sharp stab  straight to her clit. What the hell was wrong with her, that this kindly old man would rouse such…lust…between her throbbing pussy lips? She could feel the slow and steady ooze of juice leaking from her cunt.

She hoped he couldn’t smell her.

He looked at her face, into her mouth, and traced another finger down her spine, with the same results. It was as if his finger was drawing sex need out of the sky and painting her body with it through the tip of that one gnarled digit.

“You are cold?” he asked as she shivered again. Behind her back, he smiled a knowing smile. He understood that cold was the least of her issues just now.

“No, no actually i am very warm. Your touch just…tickled me a bit.”


He returned to touching her, or barely touching her. Under his loose-fitting pants, he felt an ancient stirring. The smile turned inward, as he came to face her.

“Tea will help.” He said, looking down at her. Moving to the counter, he deftly scooped the bag from her cup, sprinkled in a dash of powdered honey, and handed her the saucer.

She took a sip. It was hot and burned her tongue a bit but the taste was …amazing.

“mmmmmm…Oh, Mr. Wu, your tea’s are always so different. Interesting and flavorful…and good for me, too.”

Nodding, he turned away, and took the dripping bag to the sink. He rinsed it carefully, inside and out, and hung it over a peg to dry. As he set about tidying his area, he watched her surreptitiously  as she drank his concoction.

“Drink all,” he admonished, when she would have set it aside.

“Hot, it’s so…” Her voice was dreamy, vacant. She was deeply relaxed now, and her belly rumbled loudly. She giggled at the sound.

“I sound like a washing machine on “spin” cycle,” she said with a vapid giggle.

“You are feeling…hot? Where are you hot, my student?”

“Um,” and she twisted coyly on the stool. “Kinda in naughty girl places.”

He smiled knowingly.

“It is to be expected. I believe you are feeling very tired. Come, let us go upstairs to my apartment and you may sleep there tonight. It is too cold for you to be out and walking, and there is no one home to miss you.”

“Mmmmhhmm,” she cooed. “Boyz are still away. Won’t be home until tomorrow night.”


Mr. Wu took her arm and helped her make her way on wobbly weak legs to the small steps that twisted upwards to his small flat. Her tummy rumbled and she giggled. His arm came around her to support her, his hand resting just below her belly button.

At long last, the prophecy would be fulfilled, and he would finish his life-long task.

She was the beginning.


HNT The Wall

Mid-afternoon, after being tickle-tortured, and spanked in equal measure…after being nearly drunk on pain and lust…after all of that, came the Wall.

Blindfolded, hands cuffed behind my back, i was helpless to stop the inexorable slip of the clamps from the edge of my nipple.

i’m still not certain whether He planned for this to happen, but,  as He’s told me before…He does nothing with me “by accident”.

And there was a clue in the somewhat insincere voice He used each time the clamp came off.

“oh, nilla, did that come off again? Gee, that must’ve hurt, huh?”

There  i was, dancing with the pain of both nipples…one from the incredible pinch as the clamp   s  l  i   d   off the teeny nubbin of flesh it was gripping…the other from suddenly bearing the full weight of both clamps and the weights.

Yes Master. It   fucking damn well hurt!!!

It was painful, oh so incredibly pinpointed, this pain….and yet….

It made me feel so….submissive, so very owned, so very His to play with as He chose.

And it was incredibly  erotic.

After a few “pop-offs”  He came up with an “idea” to help the clamps stay on….and stay they did…

Devious Sadist.

Seedlings (3)

She slept, as the first tendrils slipped up between her sheets, seeking. She slept, as those first tendrils, and then, more, began lacing around her ankles, twining up her legs.

She twitched as she felt a tickle along her calf. Still mostly asleep, she attempted to rub her right foot against her left leg. Something was tickling, perhaps a fold in her blankets.

Her foot did not move. Nor did her arm as she moved, attempted to move, the blankets from around her. She blinked, coming awake.  It was deeply dark in her room, and the air was humid and warm. She wondered if she had forgotten to turn down the thermostat.  Likely she had, she’d been so tired when she went to bed.

Which meant that she was probably sweating under all her blankets.

Again she tried to move her feet, her hands.

Nothing moved. Maybe she was still asleep, and dreaming. She did that sometimes. Usually she dreamt of animals…beavers that spat at her and tried to attack, mice that attacked beavers, bees that she rode upon. She felt something move up around her knee. It had to be one of those dreams…

“HEY!” she yelped. There was definitely something there. She remembered last summer when she’d had that ant invasion, and had ants in her bed. That had freaked her the fuck out. Maybe she had some sort of insect in bed with her.


She wiggled but to no avail.

There were little pinches against her skin. “OUCH” she yelped. It felt like a…a thorn. It was digging into her, hard. There was a burning ache where it was pressing into her skin, and then just a feeling of heat.

Feelings surged through her. She had flashes of sex…bodies tangled, cum-and-sweat slicked skin sliding together.  The feelings came as fast as memories.

A fist in her hair.

Of being tied down that time with Tony, and being fucked hard.

Of being licked on her pussy, until she came in a froth of sex-juice.

She felt a tickle along her pussy, and more burning pricks along her legs. And then a probing.

Whatever it was, it was pressing against her lower lips, feeling like a coil slicking through the sudden burst of moisture all those memories had flushed from her.

Her clit was throbbing like crazy, and she had the urgent need to fuck.

This was crazy! She was having an awake sex dream, about bondage, and she couldn’t wake up enough to get her dildo and fuck herself.

The probing between her thighs grew more insistent. Shaking her head she opened her eyes. There was a distinct green glow across the room where her compost box was, and a long slither of glow along her floor and up the side of her bed.

What the fuck was going on here?

She shook her head, and pulled frantically with arms and legs. Her left wrist snapped free, and she flung back the blankets. There was a coil of green around her wrist and she looked closer at it.

A stem?

Looking down her body she saw a multitude of glowing green stems wrapped around her legs, pulling them apart. She felt and saw the slithering vines wrapping around her waist, growing faster than her eyes could see, tendrils separating and growing, encasing her.

Even now it was reaching for her tits, while she felt continued probing at her pussy.


She was dreaming. Another sharp pinch made her yelp. The thing was…adhering to her.


She yelled into the room but knew there was no one there. Tossing her head she struggled to free her lower body. She reached to pull the plant, for that was surely what it was, from her belly, but more tendrils flipped around her wrist, pinning her arm to her body.

She watched as a tendril raised up between her spread thighs, as a wicked looking thorn grew out the side. Slowly it dropped to the top of her pubis, and she yelped as the ‘needle’ pierced her skin. There was a moment of intense vertigo, and then a wave of lust so intense she almost came then and there.

The fucking plant was drugging her!

A fat, green stalk emerged from a furled leaf, looking very much like an oversized piece of   asparagus.

It bent towards her exposed cunt, and she realized its intent. The thing was growing fatter, and drops of a dewy substance was leaking from the overlapping scales all along the top of the stalk.

Two more stalks were growing, rising and writhing, almost snake-like. Like the main stalk, these two also wept liquid from under their scales. She watched, able to see each one growing thicker, longer.

Thin vines had begun wrapping around her tits, tightening around them until those fleshy globes became engorged. Tiny  tendrils grabbed and wrapped around her large nipples, pulling them tight.

She arched, moaning, at the sudden pressure on her tits. As if this was an invitation, she saw the first stalk dip back down, and felt it press against her lower lips once again.

This time it was bigger. She felt the tip of the spear parting her, pressing upward. It was wet, slick with its dew, and rubbery. It pressed upward, upward. She shook her head no, but her body responded. Whatever the plant had injected into her, left her in a haze of sexual need.

She felt a second probing along her pussy. And the third. It was impossible to think that all three would attempt to fit inside of her vagina. She arched and wiggled and tried to close her legs, but the three stalks pressed inexorably upwards, stretching and filling her.

It seemed impossible, but she swore she felt them twining around each other, twisting and spiraling inside of her. There was a painful press against her cervix, then the incredible rush of sex need that always hit her when a partner fucked her that deeply. As if her womb was inviting them to pour seed into it, the pain and pleasure was so incredibly intense.

There was pressure against her clit and she knew that a tendril was wrapping around that tender nub of flesh. She was alive with sensation. Her skin felt slick, sensitive. Her tits throbbed, and her over-filled cunt ached.

The pinch inside of her caught her by surprise. The fucking thing had sprouted a thorn inside her! She panicked, imagining it ripping her apart. Her heart raced, her body shuddered as fear threaded through her. An icy sweat popped out.

Immediately there was a soft rush of feeling. The plant cradled her but did not crush her. She was stroked and squeezed.

It felt like…she was being comforted.

Her pussy screamed as the tangled stalks continued to auger up inside of her. They were still growing, as fat together now as a man’s fist.

The thorn scratched along inside of her, making her scream at the sudden pain.

For a moment the world stopped. She was in her cunt, the hot throbbing mess of it. Plant goo and blood intermixed.

The orgasm slammed her back into the bed, locking her in a rigor so intense she thought her bones would crack. She felt the spray of fluid from her pussy squirting out to wet her thighs, her cum soaking the bedsheets, and the vines wrapped around her lower limbs.

The plant went wild. Tendrils whipped and waved around her, wrapping around her throat, her face. Touches against her nose, her lips, her ears, as the vines exploded in growth.

The braided thickness pulled out from her, rubbing along her soaked slit, absorbing her juices, before thrusting back up inside of her. Her groan allowed a tendril to slip between her lips and coil around inside of her mouth, forcing her jaws open.

Her breath was ragged now, fear and lust dancing through her body. She had no idea how long she had been held this way.

A second orgasm hit her hard. Her screams rang out as the scene repeated, as the plant absorbed her liquid, then drove back up towards her womb.

The fullness inside of her throbbed. Or she throbbed from the fullness. But suddenly she was wet, as if she’d been sprayed from a hose. She felt it in her belly, the sudden sloppy wetness passing from the plants thickness, to slick down her asscrack and pool around her lower back.

She felt that thick wetness filling her belly. She felt heavy and languid with the juice of the plant oozing in to all the little thorn cuts, and with her own powerful orgasms.

She’d never had a dream like this before, was her last thought before she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.


Mr. Wu paused, smiling,  as he puttered around the back of his shop. He was certain that Leeza’s curiosity would have caused her to plant all the seeds he had given her. One plant per pot would yield a lovely large pumpkin. Two together would engender something all together different. Only time would tell. He lifted his feather duster and went back to his task.


She woke slowly.  Blinking back the bleary morning, she stared at the face of her clock.


The little dot that illuminated at the “p.m.” time of day was lit. She’d slept the morning away? Geeze.  She’d had some sort of weird fucking dream, too. She sat up, blinking, feet dangling over the edge of the bed.

Naked, she went to the bathroom and peed. Absently she rubbed at a a scratch on her arm. Must’ve done that during all her planting yesterday. But it itched. She finished, and washed her hands. She had small dots on her arms, her tits, her belly.


She must’ve used Alex’s soap yesterday by accident. She was allergic to it, dammit. She sniffed at her skin. Hard to say, as she remembered sweating in the night. The cold snap must’ve broken.

She went into her room and turned on her grow light. No signs of sprouts yet, of course. Finding an old tee shirt, and some sweats, she padded barefoot into the kitchen. She was hungry!

She whipped up scrambled eggs, a pair of toast slices, spread thickly with butter and drizzled with honey. The teapot whistled as she finished her food, and she poured a cuppa, then walked to the window to look outside.

Fresh powder coated the view. Trees were painted with thick tufts of snow, and the sky was blue as Texas cornflowers. Fat clouds dotted the far horizon, and a cardinal zipped across the alley and into the pine tree that stood sentinel between the two neighboring properties.

Her tummy gurgled, and she rubbed it absently. She likely needed some ginger-root. She headed for the kitchen, only to sigh in dismay when she found the vegetable drawer empty.

Fucking Alex! Some snow bunny was gonna have one hella sore asshole before this weekend was out. Oh well, she didn’t mind walking in the snow. After her tea, she’d stump out and go visit Mr. Wu.


Somehow, after her big breakfast, she found herself headed back to bed. She fell instantly into a deep and dreamless sleep. She woke with her tummy gurgling.

Remembering her promise to herself to go for more ginger root, she reluctantly pulled on her sweats and top, although she didn’t remember taking them off prior to her nap.

On the walk to Mr. Wu’s a feeling grew between her thighs that she recognized as being totally horny.  Hopefully the walk to the Herb Shop would help quell that suddenly raging inferno down there. Outside, it was cool but not terribly cold. The sun, falling low in the sky in the late winter afternoon, set the snow to gleaming in shades of dusky purple, soft blue and even a twist of pink. The sky, it’s puffy clouds stretched along the horizon line, mirrored the candy colors of the snow below. She was pleased that she’d gotten out to see this ethereal beauty. The colors wouldn’t last more than a few minutes more; soon the sun would drop below the buildings to the west and darkness would pull itself up, covering this side of the world.

She hoped the boys were having a good time on the slopes. She was very much enjoying her time alone, although she did like their company. Likely one or both of them were shacked up after a few runs in the fresh powder, with Alex making full use of her purloined root. She smiled and shook her head wryly.

The lights began winking on as she walked down to the center of town. She enjoyed being one of a handful of sojourners out and about. The bell over the door jingled in welcome as Leeza stepped into the fragrant warmth of Mr. Wu’s shop.

He stepped out from behind the curtains before she could call to him.

“Leeza, back so soon, child?”

“I…need more gingerroot. My tummy is a bit funny, and the boys took the fresh root when then went skiing. I …think they were going to make homemade ginger ale.” She finished lamely.

“I see.” For indeed he did.

“So, you are unwell? Come into the back and let me examine you.”

“it’s…okay.” She acquiesced. Whenever she had a malady, he always had a therapy that seemed to work for her.  Why, he’d even knocked the flu down to 7 days instead of the usual 14-20, last winter.

Mr. Wu smiled his timeless smile. Under his robe, he felt a twitch. He went out through the curtain, and flipped the sign over the door to “Closed”,  locked the door, and turned off the store lights….he had more important work to attend to now.

Scooping a packet of herbs he’d prepared earlier, he passed back through the curtain.

Seedlings (2)

Alex and Max headed out, with much thumping, bumping, jangling of skis and each other. The silence almost throbbed through the apartment once they were gone.

She looked around, amazed at the calm. They had been pumped to finally head out for their first ski-trek of the season. Winter had come late to the northeast this year, and they had postponed this mini-vacation twice due to poor snow coverage.

It had been sweet of them to try to cajole her into coming along, but really, she knew she’d enjoy the peace and tranquility here. A long weekend with nothing but planting and books was just what she needed. For today, she likely wouldn’t even turn on the radio, just let the silence envelop her, only to be broken by the whistle of the tea kettle, or the whisper of a turning page.

She decided to brew a cup of tea, just her regular morning blend, black with a dash of milk to soften it. Taking the steaming mug into the bedroom, she set about dumping the used soil out of her pots, and into the green recycle bin that the guys would take outside for her when they returned Monday. The fresh soil sat in a blue bin. This she had dug out of the pile of soil that was still partly unfrozen in the back corner of their little yard. It was communal space, but the other residents of the building didn’t mind her little “dirt project”.

She even had a compost bin set up for everyone to contribute to, which reduced the trash load from the building and enriched her soil pile.  Glad that she had two strong men to heft the containers for her, she’d taken advantage of the mild weather a few weeks ago, and had Alex bring up a fresh bin of soil, just for this purpose.

As the soil heated slowly to room temperature, it gave off a delightfully  soft, loamy smell.  As far as she was concerned, they were living an enriching, symbiotic relationship, she and her mini garden. The plants took in her breath, and gave off pure clean air in exchange.  The bright greens, almost glowing under the grow lights, never failed to cheer her up  in these colorless winter months.

And not having to pay top dollar at the grocery store for winter-grown greens  didn’t hurt, either!

The hours blended together and passed her by as she scrubbed her pots, added peat moss to her composted earth, and re-filled the pots with the fresh mix. Swiping her dirty hand across a sweaty brow, she decided to take a break. It was full-dark now, but she needed a breath of outside air. Quickly, she rinsed off, and grabbing her coat, headed down the freight elevator.

Outside the air was snappy with cold. Each breath seemed to pierce her lungs with it, yet the stars gleaming overhead were incredibly bright and twinkling. Each exhalation let a cloud of breath stream from her and out to the cosmos. How wonderful that on such a wickedly cold night, she would be planting seeds for a far-distant warmth.

Turning her collar up against the chill, she shoved her hands deep into her pockets. She felt something in her left pocket, and pulled out the small square of paper.

OH! Mr. Wu’s “magic” seeds! She’d forgotten all about them! Keeping them in the palm of her hand, she turned to return to the warmth inside.


“There, that outta do it,” she murmured to herself. Nestled in the dark, warm soil were three varieties of tomatoes, hot peppers, marigolds, and sweet peppers. A pair of large peat pots at the end of her growing tray contained the mysterious seeds that Mr. Wu had sent. She tossed her remaining seed packs onto the top of her compost bin, not noticing that Mr. Wu’s hastily made packet opened, spilling the remaining 6 seeds into the bin.

She stretched, yawning hugely. She’d had a wonderful day. First in the prep work, then a lovely quiet lunch reading in the chair that got the mid-day light, curled up like a cat in the streaming sunshine. After a brief nap in that same chair, she’d gotten all her seeds started.

It would only be a matter of days before the first of the sprouts would pierce the soil, and begin their journey from seed to sprout to plant, eventually bearing fruits that would feed her, and her roomies, throughout the summer.

With any luck, her yield this year would allow her enough extra tomatoes to put up a few batches of salsa.

With that last happy thought in her head, she took a long hot shower, thankful that there were no guys around so she could just strip her grimy clothing in her bedroom and pad naked from her room to the shower, and back.

Towelling off her hair, she noted the seeds still splayed on the top of her “plantable” compost bin. Ah well, she would get them picked up in the morning. Slipping between her flannel sheets, she read  until the words began to blur on the page. Eyelids fluttering closed, and yawning widely, she stuffed a bookmark between the pages. Slipping further into her warm nest of blankets, she popped her light off, and fell quickly to sleep.


In the dark of the room, inside the bin of rich loamy soil, something stirred to life. Six seeds began corkscrewing roots into the nutrient-rich loam, while thin slivers of green stem began driving upwards.

She slept on, unaware.

The Seedling

She tamped the soil over the seedlings, then watered them copiously. Her roommates always made fun of her for starting her plants early, but they never seemed to laugh so much when her little bedroom garden yielded tasty greens in mid-winter, or the first tomato’s of the season…in June.

She’d set up the grow-system on the only open wall, near her bed, beside her dresser. The dresser top was clear now, ready to hold her watering can, the fertilizer that helped them grow strong, twine, spare light bulbs, and all the other paraphernalia she needed to make her little garden grow.

It was almost time to harvest the last batch of greens. Just enough for one last winter salad, she mused, smiling over her little pots. And just in time to start her tomatoes.

Nevermind that it was still Mid-Winter,  in just a few short days it would be Imbolc, February 2nd, St. Brigid’s Day. In pagan mythology, today marked the beginning of the spring season, when the lambs began lactating; when  winter was forced to begin turning away from the land. Snow storms would still lash the people, but the back of the Winter would be broken.

She always started her tomato’s this day, although it would be months before she could set them outside in her garden. Yet the very act of setting seeds to soil was a sacred act of faith.  The moon was waxing, beginning it’s journey towards wholeness-the perfect conjunction of pagan signs for planting.


She threaded her way through the marketplace. So many little shops she kept meaning to explore some day. Today was not the day, however. Winter was breathing a frigid breath across the City, and it was freezing. She was headed to the Herbalist shop to get some loose green tea, and some ginger root. She would make a lovely tisane from it, to chase away the chill of the day. Plus the ginger smelled divine simmering on the stove top.

She stepped into the dimly lit shop. Tea and bright light were not a good combination, she knew. And it was always so soothing to step in here and smell the scents that perfumed the air. Peppermint and spearmint and cardamom wafted to her as she walked towards the back of the shop.

Mr. Wu stepped from behind the curtain at her approach. He was a wizened man who looked to be somewhere between 100 and 1,000 years old. His face was a roadmap of life-experiences. He was funny, and charming, wise in the ways of the healing arts, and a Master of Kung Fu.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wu.” She couldn’t stop herself from bobbing in a short bow. She hoped it didn’t insult him, but showed him the deep respect she felt for him.

“Good afternoon, Leeza.” His voice was rich like dark honey, and dark like mahogany. His words were accented but crisply spoken. She melted a little inside when he spoke. “How my I be of assistance to you today, little one?”

She smiled at him. Truly he was one of her favorite people. She told him of the tisane she wanted to concoct. He suggested adding lemon grass to sweeten the drink, and a generous dollop of honey.

“For the pot,” he cautioned, one gnarled finger pointing at her admonishingly. “Not for the cup.”

She grinned. She nodded.

“Has your gardening begun yet?” He asked her as he wrapped up the ginger root in thick butchers paper.

“Not yet. Soon, and I can hardly wait. The last of my lettuces will be done this week.”

He nodded. She was a good student, though he doubted she understood fully that he had been training her subtly all these years. She understood much. Not enough, but time was the most effective cure for that.


She watched him head behind the silk curtain. She watched the dragon woven into the fabric writhe as if it were alive as the fabric settled into place. In a moment he was back with a small white packet in his hand.

“Seeds.” He said, pressing the packet into her palm. “They have much magic in them. Plant just one or two of them, for you may not enjoy what you will harvest from them.”

He would not tell her what kind of seeds they were, just reiterated for her to only plant one or two. She nodded, and tucked the seeds into her coat pocket. She paid for her tea and ginger, and reluctantly headed off into the cold afternoon.


Her roommates had enjoyed the last Winter Salad, and sat sipping the lemon-ginger tea she had brewed.

“Great stuff, seriously. It’s been kinda cool that we didn’t have t buy lettuce all winter. $5 bucks a head for lettuce? Not when we have the “urban gardener” living with us!” Max burped loudly.

“scuse YOU!” Alex punched Max on the shoulder as the two men play-tussled. She ignored them. Typical meal time with the brat brothers! Still, she glowed with their praise, beaming inside.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us Leeza?”

Tussling done, she looked up at Alex.

“No, thanks. I’d rather stay here and read. You can go enjoy your ski weekend and not feel guilty. Not that you will, the second that you find some little lonely ski bunny!”

“Which reminds me,” and she aimed a pointed look at Max. “I want the rest of my ginger root pu back in the fridge, you pervert!”

Max grinned, unrepentant.

“You’ve never lived until you’ve had a peeled ginger-root shoved up your hiney,” he said with a laugh.

“Actually, I’ve lived just fine without that. So, thanks, but I’ll pass. I’ll save those little perversions for you, you sick bastard,” and she laughed. She had no problem with Max being a Dom, nor for any of his ‘toys’…though it was far and away from how she enjoyed having sex.

Though she wasn’t opposed to a bit of soft bondage now and again. And not that she’d ever share that with Max, coz he’d never let her live it down.

No, they worked well as roommates, had since co-ed college days. They had never hooked up and that was fine with them all. Alex winked at her.

“I think we should gang up on him, and let him get a taste of his own medicine,” he suggested.

“Yeah, go ahead, try that.”

Leeza laughed, and headed back to the kitchen. “Great offer, but once again, I’ll pass.”

“Yeah, and good on you for being so smart.” Alex whisked the dishes out of her hand. “You cooked, we clean up. Go, play with your plants. I know you’re dying to start planting. ”

He gave her a nudge with one shoulder, while scowling at his brother. “C’mon dickhead, let’s get this show on the road. Clean up, pack up, head out to ski country!”

Laughing at their antics, and with a silent prayer that they not break any of her dishes, she headed off to her bedroom.


Sunday with nilla

i have a confession.

At 6 a.m. Saturday, when i woke up, the very first thing i did was turn on my computer.

Even before my morning pee.

Before i was dressed.

Before i had my glasses on.

Booted my little lap top up and tapped my foot with impatience. Okay, and coz i needed to pee really, really badly.

Finally it’s done doing its start-up shit, and quickly i type in my blog addy.


There is my confession.

Me, who rarely cares about shit like this…could hardly wait to see if i’d “rolled over” during the night.

i read a few replies to several of my older stories, and dashed off to the bathroom.

First thing i did when i got back to my room? Put on my socks. *laughs*

It’s friggin’ cold in my room, yanno. No heat in there and it was snowing.


No. It wasn’t snowing  in my room.

i forget what they call those dangling misnomer sentences…other than funny! Likely Donna knows, right?

Anyway, in the short time i was away….



i got dressed and headed downstairs. Saturday a.m. and i was the only person up at 6 frikking a.m. So i made muffins, and my tea, and came in to sit at my computer and read a bit.

Came back here and whaddaya know…


i wish i could do fancy graphics etcetera, but i cannot.  i can drop this in here: …some currency from the country of Georgia. Not the state of Georgia. That pretty much sums up my technology. Go ahead and close your eyes at the end of this sentence and imagine fireworks going off behind those numbers.



purty purty…..

*laughing* Don’tcha just LOVE fireworks? And with the pretend ones, you get to see your favorite colors and everything!

Okay, so enough bragging. And i am bragging. After all, a person doesn’t hit a quarter of a million blog hits everyday. But now, it’s time for bragging to be done, and get back to why you all come here in the first place, right?!!


No story today, but a few things to share.

Saturday at work, Master and i were talking as i was doing stuff. We were talking about

The. Big. Game.




Championship on the line, and these are the steps that lead to the Big Dance. The Superbowl. And i’m all kinds of pumped since i’ll get to see almost all of the game. As will He.

Last week, you may remember that i got Him to agree to grant me 10% of the Pat’s total scoring points as orgasms.

You should know He’s been ragging on me all week. Ya’ll know i suck at math. Or if you didn’t before, you do now. He kept saying i should have asked for more and let Him push me down to a lower level. But i…as i said last week….lowballed it because i *knew* it was going to be a high-point game, and i also knew there was NO. Fucking. WAY. that my Master would have given me 50% or even 25% of the points as orgasms.

At least…i think i know that.

He keeps pointing out that i didn’t ask Him, so i can’t really know for sure, and too fucking bad. So mean!!

This week, before i could even ask about converting points to orgasms, He says…

nilla, you best hope the Pat’s win. Your entire orgasms for the week will be decided by that outcome. They lose…you lose.

EEEP!! So unfair! It’s not like i can go out there and scream at Brady…

throw that FUCKING ball, man, my ORGASMS are at stake here!!

But it is the Dom’s way…and who knows…when we win…and make no mistake that i believe whole-heartedly that this will be a huge, hard-fought, and eventually won game by my beloved Patriots….perhaps the Big Mean Dom will give me a giant amount of orgasms in His jubilant state.

Hey, a slut can dream, people!

Speaking of dreams.

Friday night Master and nilla had phone sex. Yeah, yeah, ya’ll know that FNF is a staple in our staying connected to each other when we cannot be together.

This night was a bit different.

He was going to tell me “a little tale.”

I imagined a fantasy. He’s done it before. One i don’t think i have shared here about toll-takers. And a few others.

Surprise, Surprise.

The Master is talking about His week; last week was busy and He was traveling. He drove south, and attended to business.

“And what else do you think I was doing?” He asks me.

i think to myself…geeze… the fuck do i know? By now, i am masturbating, lost in the sensations floating through me, as i listen to His honey-rich voice carrying me off into the throes of intense pleasure.


“hmmmmm…” i stall for time.

“nilla.” His voice firms and i really try to come up with something.

“You went to your favorite restaurant?”

“Wrong state, nilla.” Then He laughs. “Only you could lose an entire state, nilla.”

Hey, i’m usually great with geography. But i was masturbating, yanno?

“went to the casino?”

“no, no, no, nothing like that.”

He won’t give me a clue. i’m rolling over possibilities.

“Master,” i say at last, having abandoned my pussy for the nonce, “i’m afraid i have no clue.”

“I was interviewing a Dom.”


my lips are moving but no sound goes out them. i’m guessing i resembled a carp pulled onto land. Trying to suck in air and nothing is happening.

“oh nilla” He says.

i’m stuttering and making zero sense. i am pretty sure He was thrilled to have stunned me.

He sat with a Dom friend and a slut, and watched the Dom pull a scene with her. Watched him facefuck and slap her around. Watched them fucking. Watched him spank her, beat her tits.

He wasn’t terribly impressed.

He said (and this still makes me laugh) that he told the guy he (Master) hits his teddy bear harder.

and He certainly hits His slut (that would be me!) harder.

He and i are exploring the depths of pain that i can tolerate. That i crave. That feed my kink and His. And this Dom didn’t quite measure up.

We’ve spoken honestly and deeply about what happens with U/us  if this happens. And i learned a few things.

That it will feed His kink. That it will be something that will serve both of us well, and not be something that would bother Him later. i worry about that because i know He is a jealous Master. Apparently, if and when it happens…it will be okay for Him.

If and when it ever happens…it will be okay…for us both.

This is, to me, the BEST part of being kinky. That we could talk about it, work through potential hazards, and deal with them before we ever cross a line that should not have been crossed.

By the time Master was done telling me all of this, i was having a screaming orgasm. Okay, i wasn’t screaming but i was whimpering, and cumming so hard….

The fantasy of being used by another is very strong in me, as i honestly believe it is in most, if not all subs.

The reality of it is that…i have no idea what the reality of this will be like.

i want to make Him happy. i want to feed my Master’s kink for control. i want to be the best submissive slut i can be for him. But as long as i know that Master and i are good, that i am serving HIM when and if i serve another Dom….then i’m okay with it.


i’m better than okay with it.

It is what i am all about…making Him happy.

He says i do make Him happy…

…and there are times when He pushes past my comfort zone…

and we move into His full-on Domination.

When that happens, i am intoxicated with the submission of serving Him.

Whether it is spanking me through that comfort zone, or taking my ass when i’m uncertain, or getting facefucked by a “Guest Dom”…

No matter what He chooses to push the envelope with…feeds me. There is nothing i love more than Him being my Dom, my Master, and making me submit to Him. Not just the submission that i offer to Him…but the submission that He takes from me.

He walks that line beautifully. Balanced, caring, careful and sadistic.