Dom Laughter

He’s a pretty funny guy, my Master. He’s the master of funny voices, and we’ve been spending the day texting silly things back and forth to one another. Monday is always a late day for Him, and tonight it was late for me as well. I didn’t get to talk to Him very long on His drive home.

But it turns out it was long enough.

We shared tidbits of our days, which I love. That feeling of being connected to His life fills me with happy. He was sharing this story about a coworker, and it left the opening for me to beg for an orgasm tonight.

“Well, when was your last O?” He asks.

“Friday night.” I reply promptly.

“And how many o’s did you have during Friday Night Fuck, little girl?”

“Three, Master.” I did hesitate. I know He knows how many. What *is* He up to?

“And what happened Saturday? I gave you an O and a half on Saturday. What happened there, hmmmm?”

I sigh. He is determined to rub this in.

“I fell asleep, Master. The moment my head hit the pillow…” my voice trails off, as He starts to laugh.

“Ooohhhh, that’s right….you fell asleeeeeep…” He laughs some more. “Silly little slut slept through her orgasms. Tsk.”

“And then You wouldn’t let me have one last night, You made me go to bed and sleep…and You know, Master, those half-o’s aren’t a party for me. They’re hard.”

“REallyyyy?” He sort of drawls.

And I’m not sure quite how it happened, because I’d sworn to myself that I would NEVER tell Him how rough it is. Coz then…you all *know* what would happen then.

We talk about my getting an O. And I say that I really want one.  Coz of missing Saturday, then the possibility of a Sunday O.

“But the half O, nilla. I don’t know which way you would have gone there.”

“I can tell you now, Master. I was going to take the half-o at the end. Because that gave me a 50/50 chance of an O on Sunday. If I took it first there was zero chance. The odds weren’t the best, but it was better to hope that You’d give me the O, than to *KNOW* You wouldn’t.

He is impressed, I think.

“Well, then you may have your O, with the half O if you choose…”

“YES! of course I will take that, Master!!”

“You’re so spoiled” He laughs again. “You spoiled slut. You KNOW you won’t have to wait long for relief, because you always get an O on Tuesday. Smart. Smart slut. Okay, large plug up your ass, clamps on both nipples, chain in your mouth, vibe on your clit. When you’re close to cumming, I want that vibe fucking your pussy hard. And when you’re going to round two, that half O? I want you to be so close to the fucking edge of that cliff before you pull it away…”

“You know, Master,” I say, my brain obviously disengaged at this point, ” I HATE half orgasms. They’re really, really hard. They make me mad. They make me cry, Master, and say really, really bad things about you. I moan and thrash and …”

He starts laughing, joyous, happy laughter.


“What, Master?”

“nilla! What a wonderful gift. Oh, my gawd, nilla! OH, you’re going to get so many half-o’s. Friday night fuck will be so fucking miserable for you! Oh god!”

And He laughs *that* laugh. The one that lets me know the Sadist is on the phone. And that He’s thrilled, and ready to ramp it up and play.

“Oh, nilla. You know, I thought that pink brush was the stupidest, best gift ever. This? This tops that, little girl.”

I can almost hear Him rubbing His hands together in glee.

“I’m going to keep my ear canted to see if I can hear you moaning, and saying bad things tonight little girl. . . and I can hardly wait until Friday! Goodnight, nilla….and thanks. What a great gift! Christmas in July!”

I hear His hoot of laughter as He hangs up the phone.

It sends a shiver right up my spine (and makes me wet, too, dammit!)


Head tossing. Moaning. Struggles to get away.

All fruitless endeavors.


I was stuck, His elbow on my hair, His arm holding me, my arms cuffed and tied above my head as I lay, pinned open. My tits were pinched, twisted, slapped, squished, and bitten.

His hand falls with steady, measured blows.




My breath comes out in short gasping breaths. H=u-r=t=s….moan..moan..oho ohhhhh…

Can’t close my legs to shut Him away. He hits a bit harder…




Now I moan in earnest. It goes from subtle sexual pain, to pure pain. I feel the lips of my pussy swelling even more.

It’s the end of playtime.

Time for “nilla quickies” as Master calls them. When I am no longer capable of rational speech. When I am moaning and whimpering and “speaking in unknown languages” which are “senseless, but cute,” as He says it.

In my head I’m saying I can’t.

I can’t.

I simply cannot cum anymore.

The bed is soaked with my juices. I’ve had most of a sports drink, several glasses of water…but I’m done.

Can’t. Cum. Anymore.

When my pussy is one steady throbbing mass of flesh. Feels swollen like…like a grapefruit is between my thighs.  Yet as His fingers wander down through my folds…

“You’re WET! You slut!” and He’ll chuckle that evil chuckle of His, and start to caress my tender clit.

You know, the one He’s just finished pummeling with pussy smacks?

Yeah, that one.

I can’t move, can’t get away…just have to take it. I say nooooooo….and He laughs….and slips His fingers inside me.

And I rise into each stroke..He rubs my spots…all the spots…then grabs the top of my pussy, squeezing the tender flesh, my lips, my clit, the tender sexual spot just inside…


I cum.

And lay, tears leaking from my eyes, as my pussy, that traitor, twitches and clenches on His fingers…and wets Him.

“See, I knew it.”

And then He’ll start stroking again. Sometimes even as I’m cumming He’ll be stroking, and fucking. He might pinch my clit and a nipple simultaneously. Or bite and suck that nipple so painfully, as He jabs His fingers into me, taking me rough and brutally, the way I like it.

I cum hard.

Then at the end. My end.

There is nothing.

Pussy is dry.

“Ssshhhh….” He whispers. “I know there’s another in here. It’s hiding. But it’s in there….”


“cum.” He says, His voice implacable.

It’s the only clear thing I remember. It is a lifeboat in a sea of sensation.


I obey, and sink into darkness.


Brush Strokes

His car broke down.

We were outside of the first hotel…and it just died.

I must back up a bit.

He’d headed up the hill to the hotel next door (part of the same chain)…since the one we were sitting in front of was going to push our check in time back by an hour or more. Our time together is already short…He did not want to lose an hour waiting on them.  Ergo, the trek up the hill to hotel 2.  The 2nd hotel had a room, and He took it, and zipped back to hotel 1’s parking lot, where He’d bid me to sit and wait for Him.

He calls ZZZ, you know the automobile assistance place?  He sent me off to  the hotel with my stuff, told me to go in and get settled while he dealt with ZZZ.

A short time later, he texts me. “Come get me.”

ZZZ would be more than an hour to come and look at His car. He had a better way to spend that time, rather than sitting in the parking lot.

I ran down the street in my little car, and helped Him put His toybags into the back of mine.

Bag one. (heavy as HELL…what the fuck is in there?)

Bag two. (oh, hello, Mr. Belt. *gulp*)

Bag three. (seriously? THREE fucking bags, Master?)

Bag 4 (for His work)

And Master.

I am remonstrated for not using my directional.

“But I’m turning out of a parking lot, Master.”

He gives me *that* look.

“Yes, Master.”

I head up to the hotel, and we unload the bags of stuff. Bags and bags of stuff. Bags and bags and bags…*giggle* okay, maybe not *that* many bags.

We get back to the room and He gives me this look. I swallow, hard. And before I can move, His hand is grabbing my ponytail and tugging me, bent over, to the bed.

Now, you have to understand, the order of this is all confused in my head. I think He tosses up my skirt and tans my ass good. Fucking hell it hurts. Hurts good. Hurts hard. He tells me to “stay” and that always makes me hot. I want to be a good girl, I do, I do.

But the toothbrush is coming. The toothbrush is coming! OH NOOOOOOOOO…..

and He grabs my fucking foot and attacks. First the shoe comes off, and He whaps my ass with it. Fucking rubber shoes HURT! I yelp, but immediately He is attacking my foot and I’m laughing and moaning. Pain and tickles, my mind can’t process.

More tickles. Then the brush. He scrubs between my toes, He uncurls my toes, then rubs all along the undersides of my poor piggies. I’m screaming with giggles, writhing and wriggling like a fat minnow as He tortures between my toes, then down,      s  l  o   w   l  y ….

e   x   c  r   u   c   i   a  t  i  n   g  l   y

s       l            o            w               l                    y

down the length of my foot. He had my leg bent, His arm pinning me in place on the bed…. and I can not move. Oh, I try.

Trust me,

I tried to get away.

Pointless. I shouldn’t waste my energy…He’s pinned me, and  I can’t move.

And then the other foot. Same thing, same torture, same reactions.

Somewhere in there is a hard rubbing of my clit, bringing me to the edge…Orgasm free since Tuesday, I’m desperate for this…craven and wanton…and when His fingers plunge into me, I come, hard.

He laughs, calls me a wanton slut, then flips me over and paddles my ass again.


I’d told Him about my special spanking outfit. He sends me to the bathroom to change.  I dress quickly (you’ve seen the outfit…not much to put on!) and add the hose and red slut shoes…and I peek around the corner…..

……………..where HE is waiting for me…and *SMASH* He whacks my hip hard with the fucking fucking FUCKING hairbrush.

And before I can react, *WHACK* He nails my ass.

I pull back into the bathroom so fast it was like I had elastic bands on my back, sucked back into the safety of the room.

My mouth is opened in a big O of shock and pain…but no sound can come out.

He’s done this before, hit me so hard, so fast, that no words can escape, not even an “oh” of pain.  I fold over, my hand slipping to my hit hip (bruised, still…that fucking brush leaves the most incredible bruises) and gasp in a breath.

“ohhhhhhhh,” I moan, as He stands in the doorway, smiling. “Ooooowwww”.

The word is soft, feeble, all I am capable in that moment. His smile widens as He slips from the room.

I somehow managed to screw up my courage and step out of the bathroom, albeit scraping my ass along the wall…I know, like that would save me, right?…before He grabs me and throws me on the bed. Belt alternates with hand.

And His phone rings.

ZZZ has arrived, and saved my ass….for now.

and then?

I waited.




fell asleep.

His text woke me up. “Get a drink. Use your bowl. I’m going to be a while. Eat your bagel, recharge…And remember…NO cups for sluts. ”

I know…it didn’t happen for Him, either,  if there isn’t proof…so there you all have it.  What’s that all about?

Dunno. Guess I’ll find out…when He’s ready for me to know more. Kinda like how I’m doling out the tale here…

although I have to admit that a ton of it is ….memories are flooding me…and I spend a great deal of time with my fingers on the keyboard, eyes shut, smiling, and remembering…

But there is more to share. Of course there is. I still have forgotten to talk about those anal beads, again!

URL for Blog Lawsuit/A Challenge from my Sadist

Sorry pervie peeps! I should proof read when I’m going to fast-publish a post (which is why I try to write ahead so I can do just that!)

Here is the URL for the blog I was mentioning in my Friday night post…

If you blog, and use pictures even from Google images…do read this. I believe all my images are down now, other than FFF pix. Still not sure what I’ll do with those.


Tonight after work, I had a few minutes with Master. It was awesome. It’s good to reconnect after a playtime. He pokes, and prods…and of course, tickles me.

And I begged for an O.

As I told Him…I rarely beg..He’s not all that fond of it. I whipped off my glasses, and flashed my baby-blues up at Him…I have reaaaally blue eyes, and I batted my lashes at Him, and begged pretty…

and He said “Oh, okay.”

Then He taps His lower lip.

Like, for two or three minutes.

“But not free, nilla. Here’s the thing. Here’s the thing. You get an O…and a half. Now, the half can come first…which will automatically eliminate ANY chance for an O on Sunday.  Or…”

He pauses, and looks deeply into my eyes. I wonder if He knows the full effect of that on me? How I feel shy, and loved. How I feel examined, and tenderly admired. Then He continues, changing the mood, bending the spell. Winding it around and around me, like a spider catches a fly in its web. He has me wound that tightly, too.

And wet. Did I mention He makes me wet?

“Or…you can have the full O first, the half-O second, which I KNOW you love, nilla (Insert rapid head-shake ‘no no no” here)…and have the chance of an Orgasm tomorrow (Sunday) night. That’s not a guarantee of an Orgasm….but it is a chance, which you don’t have at ALL if you take the half – orgasm first.”

So I sit, ready to go to bed, on the horny horns of a challenge. A roll of the Orgasm dice, thrown by Master.

What will I do?

(Oh, c’mon, you all know me. I know you’ll guess what I’ll do!)


Thank you Donna! (aisha, that’s all the warning you get! LOL!) oh, and p.s…..this is verrah long…no serializing this one! ~n~

She’d been fascinated by the sea her entire life. Perhaps it was all the treks to Cape Cod with her mom and aunts and gram as a child. Summers were lazy days spent in the hot sun and cool surf. There were quiet times, and excitement….nothing got the summer visitors going more than shark sightings, unless it was when a pod of whales cruised off the southernmost tip of  Provincetown.  From the Pilgrim Tower you could see Massachusetts bay to the west, and the deep green-blue of the open Atlantic to the East, skirting the white, white sands curling south, until it turned westward back towards the bulk of the Massachusetts coastline.

She had many memories of those foggy morning walks with the surf whispering at her feet, catching sea stars and tossing them back into the water, or surprising a family of sandpipers, running on their funny legs at the white frothy edge where water met sand.  She remembered sand between her toes, as well as in a lot of other less desirable places, and the beating of the sun on her upturned nose, turning the part in her blonde hair pink.

When she graduated High School, she spent her last summer on the Cape with her womenfolk, then headed off to college to study marine biology. Trekking around the world at Spring or Winter break, she spent time in tropical islands, and one memorable school-sponsored trek to Madagascar.

Now she swam at in the deep blue waters above the Great Barrier reef. Marine life abounded here, and she’d had several thrilling adventures already. There was a purported count of some 1,500 different fish,   as well as sea-snakes, mollusks, and three varieties of sea turtles.  Thus far her favorite sightings included the white-sided dolphins that frolicked in these waters.

It stunned her.

The reef, immense and diverse, was teeming with life. Every dive held its own special fascination. Today, Marc was taking her out, just her and just him. It was, to her mind, almost a date. No scheduled classes, no itinerary.  No diving today, the idea was that they would just snorkel along the surface, and merely observe the goings on in the reef below, without actually becoming part of it.

She knew Marc was hoping to see the giant squid that was rumored to exist here at the outermost edges of the great reef.  There were no other boats out this early in the day, just them, and the burgeoning disk of the sun rising through clouds.

“Red sky in morning, sailor take warning,” she chanted to herself. They’d have to keep an eye to the sky. The small boat sat calmly in the sea as dawn broke around them.

“Ready?” At her nod, Marc looked her up and down. Her bikini showed her lovely breasts to perfection, full, ripe and round. The briefs were, in point of fact, very brief. He wasn’t sure why, he’d certainly swum with other nubile college girls over his career, but this one? Made him nervous as hell.

They slipped into the water, their swimfins barely making a splash as they kicked away from their boat. The sea was warm, nearly hot, a caress across their skin. Summer in the southern hemisphere meant heated seas, mating flush in all the creatures, the burgeoning of life,  even as the northern hemisphere shivered in the chill of a January snowstorm. Together they moved through the water, peering into the still-dark depths. Occasionally her belly was tickled by an inquisitive fish, or she would catch the dark shape of something swimming under her. The sky was still pink and plum and russet with dawn, keeping the ocean’s depths a mysterious secret.

Once again, there was that caress along her belly. She shivered, smiled over at Marc.

“Fish are ticklin”

“The price you pay for that micro-kini you’re wearing! You could go back to the boat and put on a ‘skin…?” He let that hang there a moment, trying to not let her see the “gods don’t let her want to go back and cover up” in his eyes.  She filled out that ‘kini…the woman was stacked. The little triangle of fabric did little to cover sumptuous tits. The equally small bottom triangle gave a tantalizing peek at plump lower lips. She was not a skinny minnie; he loved that she had the guts to wear a bikini with a softly rounded tummy…it showed that she didn’t give a fuck what society thought, that she was comfortable with who she was. Maybe it was that, that comfort with herself that intrigued him so.

What he wouldn’t give to be one of those fishes slicking down that body!

She shook her head no, then flicked her fin at him as she pushed ahead. He tried not to stare at the round full globes of her ass, the muscles in her strong legs pulling his attention up, around, and towards that dark triangle that beckoned him like…like no other had in a long while.

Every time he was around her he felt a bit awkward, a bit nervous, and a lot horny. It was unnerving that a student would make him feel like the junior geek here. He knew she was not trying to entice him, that she was a sexy woman who had never “put the moves on” any of her teachers. She got ahead by her smarts, her drive, and her love of her subject.

“Ooohhh,!” she giggled, turning her head to look back at him. And caught him staring right at her ass. Marc flushed. She stopped swimming, treading water.

“Like what you saw, Prof? Geeze.” She blushed. Her heart ticked up a notch. He saw her. It gave her a tickle between her legs, a soft, wet throb.  She’d never, ever made a move on a teacher, yet she saw Marc differently.

“Actually, I did.” They stared at each other, floating in the warm, sapphire sea. She tread  water, holding her place, as  they looked at one another. Each wondered if they should reach out, and touch.  She felt the tickle on her thigh, and wriggled. His eyes widened. She wondered if it was from the sight of her tits bobbling in the water. There was that tickle again. She splashed at the water, trying to startle the fish. Marc uttered a short “what the fuck?” as he caught the brunt.

“I’m sorry! Not you! These damn fish are …” abruptly her voice cut off, and she gave a short yelp. Something was coiled around her ankle. They were too high to be caught in Sargassum weed, so what the fuck was on her? She kicked her foot, and felt something on her other leg.

“Marc!” she yelped, kicking. He was turned away from her, and she yelped again. “MARC!”

He turned his head, glassy-eyed. “Something…” he grunted, a look of startled surprise on his face.

“Marc…” she moaned then, feeling a soft bite on her inner thigh, cutting off her plea.  She felt a probing at her bikini bottom.  She whimpered aloud as something…something slick and cool rubbed along her vulva, down along her lower lips. There were…suckers there, snagging on her flesh, already aroused from the flirting with Marc.  She felt a sting where the bite was, and then a feeling of floating, and an incredible feeling of arousal. Her clit jolted to attention, her nipples engorged, and she felt a wet hot slickness leak from her cunthole. Her hips made little undulations in the water as her body invited the invader in.

The fat thing that filled her was a cock. A very different kind of cock. It was tapered, and she felt that tapered tip twisting and twining inside of her. Impossibly, it had found her ‘spot’, and rubbed it relentlessly. Her orgasm made her arch back in the water, and she sank up to her chin as she came harder than ever before. She kicked feebly with her legs, but found herself floating when she stopped.  More probing along her slit became pressure against her asshole. She shook her head, her hair floating like a golden halo in the water behind her.

“No no no noooooo,” she muttered, trying to push it away. She felt things twining around her wrists, her arms, pulling her back. Legs…tentacle legs, wrapped around her torso, her throat. Tips of legs rose up in the air then rubbed against her tits. She bucked, but was held too tightly. There was a sudden surging thrust into her ass and pussy, and she screamed. Her asshole throbbed, even as her cunt bucked into another orgasm. The wriggling invader in her ass pressed upward, twirling up into her gut. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, torn between the pleasure in her pussy, and the pain in her asshole. She was stretched, deeply, fully with the thickness inside of her. Her ass throbbed, setting off another shockwave of sensation, another ripple of her belly as she climaxed. As she gasped for breath, one questing tentacle found her nose, pressing up and inside.

“NOOO,” she moaned, tossing her head in a futile attempt to dislodge it. A second slender tip found her other nostril, and slid inside. She felt the tickle at the back of her throat. She coughed, gagging as one tendril pressed deeper, probing. Her head was tugged backwards by the feelers in her nose, and she arched in the water, out of control. The cock working in her belly pressed hard against her cervix and she moaned. Pain and pleasure commingled, and she felt a hot wet thickness building inside of her. It, whatever it was, was coming inside of her. She felt the dripping of fluid down the back of her throat, and the tightening around her tits as tentacles thrashed in the air before wrapping her more tightly in their grasp.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Marc, also floating, one thick tentacled arm filling his mouth.

“Marc,” she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. The bobbling waves should have spread them away from each other, yet they hung here in the waters not far from their boat.

The thing in her ass began to thrust. A second cock? How many of these creatures were on her? There was a slither against her hip. It pulled up out of the sea, and she stared in horror,  looking into the eyes of the slimy creature as it slid up her belly. This one too, had a protuberant cock. It’s tentacles grasped her tits, suctioning onto her nipples and sticking against her as deeply as possible. She moaned. She saw its maw, open wide, tasting and exploring her belly, working towards her captive tits.  It found the swollen orb of her, settled around her protuberant flesh. There was a shocking and intense sucking at her nipple, then a bite. Heat, lust, rampant need exploded in her.

Primed, she spasmed. The water around her clouded with her cum, and theirs. She was writhing now, desperate for sex. The fucking in her pussy and ass redoubled, perhaps one cock, perhaps more, fighting to press into her belly and deposit its milky spoor. She was bloated, full, as the cock before her began to thrash towards her mouth.


Marc could not believe what he saw as Jules bobbled in the water, could not believe what he felt as he too was entrapped by a group of groping tentacles.  What the fuck? he wondered, attempting to push them away. His hands were quickly wrapped together in one strong coil; despite the cool slippery mass, they were incredibly tough. He felt the first tickle along his thigh, then his calf. The bite was less annoying than an mosquitoes, but in seconds his semi-soft cock went fully rigid. Painfully rigid. Tenting out the front of his swimshorts, he felt the first flicker of panic as a tentacle…was it only one?… slid up inside the left leg of his shorts.

The grip around his balls was painfully tight. He moaned, and a tentacle slipped between his lips and down his throat. He could breathe, barely, and panic sent his heart racing. He felt the lapping of water around his cock.

Where the hell had his pants gone?

He forgot about them as something cool, tight, viscous settled around his shaft.  It felt like fingers massaging along his length. He was hard, harder than he’d ever been, and there was a feeling of sucking along the crown, the hole, the ridge of his head. His hips jolted in the water, fucking. He would have moaned but for the tentacle silencing him.

He swallowed, a thick ooze was leaking from the tentacle and dripping down his throat. He tried to scream as another probed his asshole, then pressed insistently upwards. His rectum was stretched, painfully. His eyes closed as his shitpipe was violated, the deep questing probe thrusting, fucking his ass, even as his own cock was getting worked over. The clenching around his balls was making them feel like his nutsac was going to explode; his cock was painfully rigid, and sucked so hard it, too, was painful.

Yet even as he wondered if a guy could die from having his nuts crushed by a squid, they were released. He felt the upsurge of his own orgasm ricochet up his cock, and explode from inside his fuck-tube, into places unknown.  The world went black for a minute, but he roused as  another moved onto him, biting him to erection, and fucking him senseless once more.


“I think she’s coming around.”

There was general laughter at that remark.

“Cumming being the operative word, ey mate?”

Jules opened her eyes. She was alive? She felt heavy, thick-bodied. She was naked, but couldn’t make herself care. Several guys were standing around her; one crouched down and held out his hand.

“How many fingers, darlin’?”

“Two.” her voice croaked. “Marc?”

“Oh, your mate? He’s fine now, below decks having some food. C;mon up with you now, darlin’, let’s get you into something more proper then, aye? Then we’ll give you a snack and set you two back to rest, ay?”

She swallowed, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. There was a coursing of wetness as she rose, leaking from between her legs. One of the men held a bowl there, catching the liquid.

“They liked you, girl,” growled one, observing the amount of liquid in the bowl. It had a faint golden color to it.

She felt the blush rise from her toes. She would have moved forward, but a hand pressed hard against her belly, as if to drain her.

“Just a little more, darlin’.”

A daring pair of lips lapped up her inner thigh.

“Andrew!” admonished their leader, as he held her there. “It’s a powerful aphrodisiac, darlin’. The Japanese pay top dollar for any squid semen we can collect.”

He led her down to the galley, where a pale-faced Marc sat, eating. A sailor sat on each side of him.

“Now that you’re both here, I’ll explain what happened to you, and tell you where we go from here.”

“The squid that attacked you, the Aussie Dumping Squid it’s called, are notorious sex-fiends.  They mate for hours at a time, and have lately begun to prey on humans who venture into the water at dawn, or dusk. Their mating season is just for a few more weeks, and it appears that they very much enjoyed you two. We’ve tried collecting the cum by grabbing the squid, but it won’t release. And the two others we found in your situation were barely touched. It appears they like you.”

Marc and Jules looked horrified. She’d been fucked by squids? Plural?

“So we’ll feed you up to keep your calories and fluids up, and tonight at dusk we’ll drop you both in again. Let them fuck you silly, reel you in, drain your holes, and let you sleep.”

“It’s only a few more weeks, mates. You’ll have the fucking time of your lives, and vacation memories of Australia to last a lifetime!”

short random stuff

if you have trolled through my archives over the last two days, you may note that some of my prior posts with pix (how’s that for alliteration!?!) are now picture-less.

That is in response to this blogpost, and I thank Donna for sharing this. If you blog, and use pictures you MUST read this article. Any pix on my blog now are mine. taken by me, or by friends who know they are sharing here with me, excepting FFF stories, which I am supposing have been found on common sites? Hmmm…I might take them down, too. Better safe than sued, yanno?

And I have once more tried my hand at one sentence sex (thanks to Will Redbud at erotic writers (see blogroll on right))…and I think it is one of my funnier attempts. You can find it here…well, HERE! on my nilla swirled blog for oddments like that. It was written in one minute, too!

Have a great weekend, everyone. Tentacle sex story Saturday morning!

100 Words Sleepless

Tired ~

not sleeping well ~

thoughts of You haunting me

each time I lay my head upon my pillow.

I think of Your fingers in my hair, bending me, pulling me, moving me

at Your whim.

I flop onto my belly, and recall my hands, immobilized, and my ass, vulnerable.

Your hand hitting implacably on those round, pale cheeks, turning me red, and hot.

So hot.

Followed by the tenderest of caresses.

Pain, and pleasure

a heady drink that You

spoonfed to me,

making me thirsty for


I can’t sleep

for thinking of You,

but instead, smile,




HNT Awaiting Judgement

There is a whole long tale about Master and my playdate that is yet untold, and I’m circling all around it. For now, I’ll leave you with a teaser…

I bought a special outfit just for the punishment part of our day…an “apron” style chemise…it is totally backless. I put it on, and using the wall of mirror in the room, I took this picture, all while  Master was gone. You may recall that He’d had something come up that necessitated Him leaving me alone in the room.

And then, because I am a naughty girl at heart, I sent it to Him. Kind of a “see what You’re missing” thing.

Don’t ever do that. Just telling you from experience, and especially if you’re wearing an ass-baring outfit.

(If you zoom in close you might see the red marks on my butt from our “round One” time before He needed to leave. And we’ve already established that I’m not a skinny minny, so no cracks about the size of my ass. (see what I did there? Ass/crack? *giggle*))




Somewhen in the vast reaches of our time together, after multiple forced orgasms, after fucking, and biting, and beating…

He flips me over on my back. I grunt, I remember, because my shoulders were so sore from the beating, and the biting. My ass was throbbing dully, and my pussy, too, but to different beats. It was a discordant rhythm that my body was playing, all a blend of disharmony that somehow set up awesome harmonics within me.

He healed me, by beating me.

By fucking me.

By using me hard, and heavy.

Then He tugs me, on my back, across the bed, heedless of my small moanings. Tugged like I was a rag-doll…and you all know I’m no lightweight. My head flops off the bed; I feel the heat of his thighs on either side of me, the roughness of hairy legs. The push of His cock on my face, my lips.

He reaches down and takes my cuffed hands, and hooks them together behind His back.  Reaching down, He slapped my inner thigh until my legs opened, aiding in my balance.

He is wordless.

I am blindfolded.

He makes me figure out what He wants, by slapping my pussy. I lick His balls, laving them, lapping at them, making Him moan. If I please Him, He stops slapping my pussy, and starts playing with my tortured clit. It is so sensitized by now, that even a gentle rubbing makes me cum.

I moan against His ballsack, mumbling “no…no…no…”

Cumming is sweet torture…and becomes simply torture.

He moves His hips, and immobilized as I am, I can do nothing to stop Him. Nothing to stop His cock entering my mouth (not that I don’t want it. I do, I do!)

But at the same time, His fingers slip inside me and begin fingerfucking me roughly. I squirt nearly instantly…I feel the wet explosion, as I mumble NO around a mouthful of  cock, trying to get my mouth clear of it so that I can protest. I do, yet, with the position He has put me into, when I open my mouth to say anything there are His balls. I’m effectively gagged between His legs, His cock, His balls, as He stands there, getting sucked off, and torturing my pussy.

I come again.

And again.

And again.

And, yes, again.

The number of orgasms is uncountable. All this in silence. He says nothing to me, just plays with me. Pulling my nipples, slapping my tits, pinching my belly. Fucking my pussy.

Fucking my pussy.

Fucking my pussy.

He doesn’t cum in my mouth. He reaches up, and I feel His hands unclasping my wrists, then He steps back, tugs me up upon the bed.

Does He cuddle with me? I think so.

Seriously? I don’t remember that part yet. It will come back to me, or He’ll tell me about it.

And by the way?

I loved every fucking minute of it! The loss of breath from time to time, the banging of my head with His legs, the taste of Him, the objectification of Him plucking away at my body, as He did whatever the fuck He wanted to…all of it was a HUGE turn on.

oh. Did I forget to mention the anal beads?

Next time, my pervies, next time.



He ties the velcro cuffs around me, and blindfolded, I do not resist. Much. He slaps me for my impertinence, hard on my shoulder. Tugging me across the room, He shoves me hard, and I fall on the bed. There is excitement and with a dash of fear, always. What is He going to do to me?

Of course, there is implicit trust.

I hear Him fiddling with something over my head, then He tugs and yanks me to where He wants me. In seconds, my bound hands are hooked to a rope, and useless. I can’t see, and I can’t stop Him, can’t cover my ass or pussy…

He tugs me from the other side of the bed, stretching the rope, rendering me even more helpless.  And exposed. The tugging has raised the hem of my soft chemise, totally baring my ass.

My already red and aching ass. The punishment blows had fallen long ago. There was a dull and hurty pain there, the feeling of heat. A nap had taken some of the intense pain away, yet.

Ah, “yet”…

I *knew* the next few minutes would be intense. He was pissed, a very, uber-controlled pissed. A series of events had conspired to pull us away from playtime just as things were heating up…and He had to leave me there in the room, alone for 3 hours. Thankfully, I was allowed to remove the blindfold, and He had yet to bind me. (Good thing I like the Weather Channel!) So I watched the weather in Idaho, and the midwest, and the Caribbean. I watched NCIS. I watched MORE NCIS. (There is never too much NCIS. Mark Harmon, need I say more?)

And then He returned. He carries His “mad” well. He wasn’t mad at me, but terribly frustrated.

And He, as I do, used our play time to rid Himself of His mood.

And O. I so needed it.

He so needed it.

We needed it.

I was in a foul mood when I woke up. He is an amazing cure for foul moods. Who has time to be pissy and angsty and mad at the world when one is having her ass whooped?

He vented a lot of His angst on my ass. ON my thighs. On my calves (holy FUCK does having your calves smacked hurt like fuck-all!!) I’m rather amazed that I don’t have fishnet markings etched in the back of my legs!

He used Mr. Belt. Oh, that Mr. Belt, the devil. And FSCT. O. O. OOOOH…that hurt terribly on the backs of my legs. Not terribly fun on my ass, either. But the  real fiend of the day was Mr. Hairbrush, who, multiple times, rendered me incapable of even screaming.

I HATE that hairbrush.

He takes GREAT joy in retelling the tale of my delivering it, oh, so innocently, so naively into His hands. Do you remember this? My hair is always hopelessly tangled after play. It takes a long time to put it to rights, to make it look like I didn’t have wild jungle monkey sex all day. Shopping before one of our play days  about a year ago, I found this lovely, square backed brush, with a lovely squishy handle.

I was so pleased at having this “detangling” brush to help me with this, what I considered at the time to be a major pain in the ass, fixing the hair before heading home.

His eyes lit up. He took it from me, twirled it in His hand.

And wouldn’t give it back. He beat my ass with that fucking thing, laughing and chortling, totally gleeful.

I will *never* live that down…I wailed “But MASTERRRRrrrrrrrr…I got that for my hair……to fix it….OOWWWWWWWwwww!”

He brings it up all the fucking time.

Laughing that sexy, incredible laugh of His.  He nailed me with that fucking brush dozens of times. He’s not into counting, He just hits until He gets bored, then moves to the next thing. His hand caresses my bruised, swelling flesh, laughing at the heat there.

I’m captive, bound by my hands to near immobility, yet held as equally captive by the things He does to me. He hurts me so deliciously. So intensely. So good.

Catching a breath between a flurry of blows, I breathe…and He takes a picture.

Later, He held me captive in His arms, held tight and secure and unwilling to move. And touched me…slowly, painfully, carefully…but that, dear pervie friends, is a story for another day…