Bad Slut…

At my new job, last week, I made a mistake. Okay, it wasn’t a ginormous one, and it was made “okay”…and I learned a valuable lesson about checking the materials I’m supposed to be checking. If my supervisor had been irate, that may have colored the situation, but she wasn’t. She feels as I do, that we learn from our mistakes. Maybe that’s more of an age thing? I remember getting all bent out of shape when I was younger…but I digress.

Actually, I am not digressing.

I’m stalling.

If you read Saturday’s post, at the very end I mentioned that Master and I did have a phone phuck date after all, cleverly disguised by Him until the very last second.

And I had two lovely, yummy, intense O’s…the second one was even a squirty one! Whoa, those are the best! So wicked and dirty and …a whole body kind of orgasm.

Usually He’ll tell me “NO MORE, nilla. You are DONE!” And direct me to put my toys away. Saturday night, He did not. We talked, and talked and talked, until very late. And when we hung up, there were these toys I was sitting with.  And…no prohibition.

I did think about it. It was late, and I was tired. But my pussy was buzzy and happy and wet and …I was still so turned on.

Talking to Him does that to me, you see. The sound of His voice instantly dampens my folds, makes me yearn.

Is your hand over your mouth now, in shock and disbelief…? Are you saying “no nilla…oh no…don’t!”  ?

It’s too late.

I did.

I was the worst kind of slut.

An orgasm stealer. To be sure, He had not disallowed it. That is a line I would never cross. But I knew what the right choice was, and I chose to take advantage of the loophole.

That’s not very submissive.

That’s not being a good girl at all. To be sure, before I was wearing His collar, I’d sneak O’s like that all the time, and He’d tweak me about it, but I wasn’t prohibited from it.

So on the technicality side? It wasn’t really fully stolen. But it was very bad form.

Sunday we had a loooooong face time at Starbucks.  I am inherently honest (all evidence to the contrary, I really am!).

So…. I told Him, early on.

He handles annoyance so well. Puts on this stoic face. Looks at me. Nods to Himself. Then, in that moment, He is processing. Pondering. We talk about other things, after he admonishes me for my choice. Later there is some horsing around, poking (and bruises), grabbing, subtle public torture. We laugh, He pulled my hair, He hurt me, and teased me. We had a good, good time.

A bit of time passes, I go to the girls room. When I come back, He is tapping His lip, looking at His computer.

“You know how I’m going to punish you for your transgression?”

I stare at Him. Instantly I know it will happen next weekend, when we are together.

“Fucking silver cake thingy?” I ask, a bit fearfully. But then I know. I know exactly how He will punish me.

“Mr. Belt…” I rush to say, even as He is shaking His head ‘no’ to FSCT. He nods.

“Exactly. And it will be a lesson that you will never forget, little girl.”


It is late as I write this (Sunday night) and when I came up to bed, there was a message on my phone.

“Don’t even ask.”

Yeah. He’s pissed.

(can’t blame Him.)

I wrote this not at His behest, but as a cautionary tale. Nilla can and does fuck up, sometimes in epic form.

Don’t try this at home.