It’s Blogoversary Time!

Happy Blogoversary to meeee!

Three years ago today I started this blog with a very simple, very short story. I was scared *spitless* when I hit that ‘publish’ button for the first time.

What the fuck was I getting myself into?

A new world, full of mystery, and excitement.

A world full of friends.

Friends I would meet in real life, and like even more that just in the rarefied world of the internet.

An internet full of pictures and stories and true life adventures that I was bold enough to try to emulate.

I wanted.

I craved.

I dreamed.

I dared.

Three years ago, I started here as a newbie, a D/s virgin. It’s been a thrilling journey. Thanks for coming along on the ride with me!

 

HNT and nilla Babble…

Today was so much a better day that I walked around for half the morning wondering if I’d fallen asleep in another house! My MIL called just before I went out to run some errands and quickly disabused me of *that* notion…:) Some people just try to suck the happy right out of a girl…but I just pushed it aside into the mental box marked “angry MIL” and went on with my day. At least she is not mad at *me*… 🙂

In a few minutes I’ll be talking to my Master, the last time I’ll talk to Him for a few days, since my family is going camping this weekend. A holiday here in the US, Labor Day is on Monday, and I celebrate it by doing all the prep work for said trip.

I’ll wave to you, Tip, from OOB!

I had a hair color…disaster is likely too strong a word…but it’s close, about 4 weeks ago now. It came out deeeeep red with a purple cast to it. So much for copper highlights. Ugh. I hated it. Master, to His credit, did not flip out. I let it ride for a week, then colored it lighter, which helped. I’ve gotten it back to a nice rich red…and today Master sent me pix from last year.

This is the red I like the best.

I got it about 5 hours after I’d colored it; naturally, my *new* color is a bit more saturated than the one He likes best. But…it will be all better by our playdate.

OH, and it’s HNT, isn’t it! Almost forgot. And wouldn’t Master be pissed at me about that oversight? See Master? I remembered in the nick of time.

Nick, Master.

Not nipple.

🙂

wah wah waaaaah….

I’m just rambling here. No common thread, just whatever is popping in my head (although that does tend to get me in trouble from time to time…).

I’m scattered, tired.

I wish I had some kinky story for you all today. Real life has shot me in the ass and I have zero creative energy.

I’m not sure what is up with young son, but he’s been on these screaming rampages of late that just totally drain me. It is what it is and we’ll get through it, but it takes all my juice to get it resolved.

And so I don’t kill him. Coz yanno…that’s not really a solution.

I’m seriously thinking “soundproof room” for my next home renovation project….. :)…. but I’m not sure which of us would go into it! *smile*

Okay, that’s not serious either. I needed a spot of levity.

I see in my email that so many of you have left comments, and I’m behind on answering those…but you know that I will,  I promise!

I slept badly, and woke disoriented. Wild and disturbing dreams when I did sleep…and then today? Spiders. Spiders are the theme of my day.

Ugh.

Hate those fucking creepy things. (*shudders*)

But I have gotten some reading done, which has been nice, and am getting my home a bit more organized, and am trying to rework my life schedule coz I have a new job working a few hours in the evening. I love the break (and the money!); I don’t mind hard work at all, and the physicality of it will help me work towards my goal of being slimmer, which pleases Master.

And we spoke this evening. I texted Him a few times in the day about how horrid it was. He sent a beautiful rainbow picture to cheer me up, and then we talked for a bit.

That always helps.

And I’m going away for a few days, and “supposed” out loud to Him that I’d likely be orgasm free during that time, which earned me a “smart slut” from Him.

Which makes me smile AND frown. Coz yanno…what submissive slut doesn’t like hearing “smart slut” from her owner? But He’s also removing my orgasms for that time. Kinda like that pain/pleasure thing isn’t it?

I’m horny, and wanting my Master’s hands on me. I’m greedy and wanting Him talking to me nonstop for hours.  I want…

well…what do I really want?

Orgasms, naturally.

Under His hands…being tortured, the clit flicking that is His new game…He flicks so hard…it hurts and turns me on so much. I imagine that, laying there, legs splayed, and wanting Him to touch me.

And Him flicking.

OUCH!

And then ?

He’d likely bite me as He slid His fingers along my folds, and find me wet. Stop biting to admonish me for being “such a slut”. Then touch me more…until the pleasure builds and the orgasm begins to open and bloom like a rose in the sunlight…opening, spreading, trembling…

flick

and He chases it away with a flick of His finger.

Hmmmm. …. that’s a pretty nice fantasy to masturbate to, isn’t it? The beautiful touch of His hands…the bruises and pain He can inflict so easily on my body.

I have two orgasms coming to me tonight (for being His good girl!)…so I guess I’ll be heading off now….

Enjoy your Hump Day…I know I’ll be enjoying myself, soon!

 

 

 

Why?

Why do people put spam on emails if there is no “real” place for people to go to when they click on it?

Why does spam annoy me?

Why am I checking my phone a bazillion times a day waiting on His every word?

Why am I cranky?

Why hasn’t He texted me almost all day?

Oh.

Right. He has been in very little contact with me today. That *does* make me cranky. Cranky enough that something as ordinary as posts that were caught in my “spam-net” annoyed me. Cranky enough that I was growling as I did my evening “plank”. Cranky enough that I couldn’t think of one nice thing to write here.

Not feeling sexy.

Not feeling sexual.

Not feeling needed/wanted/cared about….

and isn’t that just fucking ridiculous?

Of course He loves me. Didn’t He, just yesterday, text me those 4 Words that proves he does? What, one fucking day goes by with barely a word and I have to get all…”ooohh”?

I hate that.

I love being dependent on Him, but it has this really dark shadow hiding just below the surface, doesn’t it? Fear. Doubt. Worry. If I’m not vigilant and watchful for them, they tend to sneak up on me and start nibbling my toes. If I don’t notice that? They munch more and more of me until I “suddenly” feel unsexual, unneeded, unloved.

And we all know how fucking crazy that is.

*rolling eyes*

Okay, I’m banishing those nasty little shadows, with their subtle bites of doubt. He’s busy. I’ve been busy all damn day…so I should just chill out, relax, and be a bit more patient. He’d like that immensely. That I didn’t go all “womanish” on Him and yelp and bark for attention when He just doesn’t have time to spare.

I want that touch.

I want it enough to know when to sit quietly, be patient, and wait like the good girl He wants me to be.

I just wish it wasn’t so fucking hard.

update! His phone is not able to send texts…He is having issues and instead He left me a voice mail! I’ll call and talk to Him after all. Funny how that all came about after I came to a place of calm about it. 🙂

4 Words

We were texting Sunday…just teasing dribs and drabs. I was in full-vanilla mode, busy as a one-armed paper hanger.

But He managed to stop me dead in my tracks, pulled me right out of that “v.m. mode” and into His world…(or rather, my place in His world). We’d been texting back and forth all morning.  He’d been very Dommish today. (You subs will understand that remark!) There are many days when we’re kinda vanilla-esque (though He will tell you…He is always in Dom mode…He just varies the extent that He uses at any given time with/to/on me…).

See, I’d sent a semi-flippant response to a text He’d sent me.  I was feeling a bit happy with myself over that remark. It was funny. It was smart-assy without being rude. It coasted right on the edge where I like to play. My remark was about wanting this particular thing that He’d mentioned…but definitely not in the way HE had said I would get it.

I was right in the middle of doing something, and I walked past my phone and figured ‘what the hell, I’ll see if the Master Man has written back to my smart-ass comment. Sure enough, He had. I opened it, read it. My focus narrowed to the four words on the screen in my hand. All else faded away.

The world tilted.

My pussy clenched, then grew wet. Not moist, not tingly.

Soaked.

not your choice anymore

There simply isn’t a better way to know that I’m owned.

🙂

Touch(ed)

Oh, what a busy day today was. Work went by quickly, and I had plans to meet up with Master afterwards.  He was supposed to be gone, but His plans changed, and we could hook up, at least for this brief time. How lovely it is, to get a wee surprise like that. Our play-day is postponed, but we still get to touch one another.

And how He touches me. With sweet words, and dastardly play. I want to kiss Him. I’ve painted my lips red for Him, and pull up to where He is parked, ponytail disheveled from my day, and the drive. I get out of the car, and lean into Him. He grabs my ponytail, and bends me over, ass in the air, head down by His knees, and pins me against the car.

And tickles me.

Finally, He lets me up. He leans towards me, as if to kiss, but there is that gleam in His eye…and as I lean towards Him,  to meet His lips, He grabs  each side of my waist and squeezes it so fucking hard it takes my breath away. A muffin-top is NOT a thing to have when one has a Dom who loves to pinch!

I pull away, and His grip slackens.

Once more, I lean towards Him and once more,  just before our lips meet, He tips His head away and pinches me, hard!  I yelp and rear back in pain. O fucking OWIES!

This goes on for quite a few minutes, and He is laughing softly to Himself. I’m not sure He’s even aware of it…just these soft chortles as I lean in,  cooing, yearning towards His lips, into more pain. The closer I get, the more it hurts…and I realize it’s a test. Do I want to kiss Him bad enough to take the pain He is giving me to “earn” it?

Hell, yes!

I have ginormous bruises already and it has only been a few hours since our meet. But well worth the price I am willing to pay to kiss Him.

I’m feeling frisky, playful, He says. He’s tickling me devilishly, and I’m all squirmy and girly. Then I start stalking His man-nipples. Aren’t male nipples neat? Tiny but they get so hard… 🙂 And I flick them, and pinch them, and am admonished for doing all that.

And we laugh.

“You’re in such a playful mood today,” He comments, and it’s true. After what was truly a hellish week, being upset and moody, and angry, and hurt and crying, to be here in this place and time with Him, and just being happy…was a delight. He supported me and verbally stroked and hugged me and lifted me up all week. It was a good feeling to just be able to be with Him, and be in a good, happy place.

We talk and tease, and He pinches me more, then little smacks, then some subtle nipple pinches that rise me to my toes like I was a ballerina studying for the role of the Swan! Holy HELL on a stick!

We played, semi-publicly, for about 40 minutes before I needed to go, before He needed to go. But there was one more “kiss test” to go through, before we parted.

I’ll wear these marks for a week or more.

A few minutes ago I called Him, as I had yet to hear about an orgasm. And you all know I’m greedy like that. We chatted for a few minutes, then He had me describe how the scene would play out for me…which always embarrasses me to say out loud. I know, funny, for a wordsmith who can tell the smuttiest of stories…but that’s how I roll (to use the vernacular of the teens).

“Well, Master,” I pause and ‘umm’ for a minute, and He ‘encourages’ me to speak. There is a subtle note of “do it now or lose it” so I start to speak.

“….I thought that nipple clamps would be good…it always feels like You’re here when I use them. The weight of the chain and the chill of the metal…”

“Good, go on,” He says.

“….and…um…the vibe, Master. I’d torture my clit with it a bit, maybe get close a few times before I go over the edge…not as close as YOU make me get but…close enough…” my voice trails off. I’m really not sure what more He wants.

“Pins on your nips instead of clamps. No. Wait.”

There is a verrrrry pregnant pause. The “Oh Shit” part, where my pussy tingles and I’m torn between ‘oh no no no…and the hideous joy of obeying His wishes.

“Okay, clamps on nipples, that’s good. And your tapered anal plug up your poop chute. And nilla?”

“Yes Master?” I say with trepidation in my voice.

“How many clothespins do you have up there with you?”

“TWO” I yelp triumphantly, giggling wildly.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me you cunt!” He says, but He is laughing too.

I count them. There are 12. I have counted them out loud as I gathered them up.

“Eleven. Eleven is a nice number. Eleven pins on the kitties, nilla.”

I swallow hard enough for it to be audible.

“And nilla?”

What now?       “Yes Master?”

“Be sure to find some of the bruises I put on you today. Make sure that there are pins on the bruises. Two if you can make it fit. Want to mark those bruises with those pins, got it?”

OH Holy Fuck!

“Yes Master…” and I admit it, my voice was *that* close to a whine.

He laughs.

Yes, He did. He laughed. Totally delighted.

“Remember, ELEVEN pins, nilla”

“I’ll take pictures, Master.”

“I’ll look forward to that, nilla,” He says, smugly.

And I admit it, when I hung up the phone, *I* laughed. That fucking sadistic Bastard got me again.

(yeah, I do like that He keeps coming out on top!)

 

 

The Package

Monday I received a lovely square box on my front porch. I’d been forewarned of its immenant arrival…and when I heard the “thud” outside, I knew exactly what had happened.

The Package had arrived.

It was with no small amount of worry that I opened the box. The sender has long been known to salt her packages with copious quantities of glitter, after all. Cautiously, I slit the sides, then the top.  First, a quick peer into the darkness.

Drat.

Newspaper.

Carefully, as if handling a live grenade, I pulled off the paper. My mouth fell open. I started to smile.

FABRIC!

I may be a nymphomanic slut…but I am also, deep in my heart of hearts, a fabric whore. There is (almost) nothing I like more than going to a fabric store, finding myself surrounded by hues of blue, or green, or reds, oranges, yellows…a veritable rainbow of fabric; the touch of peachskin, or flannel or silk as appealing as cotton and corduroy.  I love fabric (just ask aisha how much time we spent in a fabric store, the orgasmic frenzy of touching everything in the store some of the bolts of fabric.)

And there was a lot of fabric in the box, all beautiful batiks. There is a quilt in that box, ladies and gents…it just hasn’t been made yet… 🙂

But the box was fairly weighty for even the fabric contained within. And when all the yardage was removed…guess what nilla found at the very bottom?

A bag.

A green nylon bag.

It’s heavy, and when I lift it out I need to support it with my other hand. Quickly I wisk that upstairs, hiding it in my room.

Okay, I peeked.

Before I hid it. Just a wee peek.

And then my hand just found its way inside, you see. And I touched one. Pulled it out. Felt the weight of it in my hand.

A flogger. (my first)

It has a gorgeous blue handle. Covered with suede. Here is a picture of it:

My phone doesn’t always take purple or blue true-to-color…but it certainly shows the black rubber thongs (what are those parts called, anyway?)

I slapped it on my leg.

Fucking ouch!

It left marks that lingered for an hour or more. The joy of marking easily. There was a pleasant after-tingle, too.

And then I sent Master a text, telling Him that He’d received a gift in my box. He knew who it was from right off. And figured out what it was with few clues.

He had me send pictures of them all. His delight was, and remains, palpable.

We’re getting another of those mini-meets Saturday, and I asked Him if He wanted me to bring the bag.

No.

We won’t be having playtime this weekend; originally He thought that He may have to go out-of-town. That didn’t happen, but I made plans around His being away. Playtime will happen in a few more weeks and that is when He’ll try out the new toys that Wordwitch and her Master, Wolf, sent to U/us.

What a gift.

I’m both thrilled, and nervous as hell about them. Master is very careful of me, but He does enjoy hurting me good. And He stops when He is good and ready to stop. Which is always a bit after when *I* think He should stop.

Don’t get me wrong…the pain is fucking awesome. But ya know? It’s pain! 

Endorphins will kick in eventually…it’s just getting to that point…

He has set me to a task with a deadline of Sunday. I must first lay out all the whips/flails in order of fear-factor, on a scale of 1-10.  Then I must take a second picture, rating them in order of my curiosity factor.  It strikes me as a very interesting thing. There are definitely several that I am quite fearful of…and there is one that straddles the line quite nicely between fear and curiosity.

I love the way His mind works. I wonder if my ass (thighs, tits, belly…) will feel the same way in a few weeks?

*******************

Am hoping to have some time for writing later today but today is a heavily scheduled day for me. If I don’t poke my nose in here this weekend, I’ll be back on Monday. Master has been after me again about posting daily. Even aisha pointed out to me that a post saying “i’m not posting” is, indeed, still a post! Good point.

And I simply won’t have a single moment for writing all weekend. A slut was never more happy to get out of Dodge and go to work as this one….it has been a hell of a week (and the full moon isn’t until NEXT week….) with my kiddo’s. Anyone else had Mr. or Ms. Smartmouth, Screamfest, or Argue visiting their homes this week? Because they sure as hell have spent a lot of time at my place and I’m happy to have them move on.

Master has been a bastion of support during my travails this week, which I have deeply appreciated. Everyone needs someone to just listen…and then make terrible and sadistic ideas for handling the woes of vanilla life…! He makes me laugh, He does, and lightens my load with it.

🙂 I’m a pretty lucky slut, aren’t I?

 

 

 

I Meant to Do That

She sashayed across the bedroom. The tall, pencil heeled stiletto’s made her legs look sleek, long, and lean.

“Well? You like?” She turned, casting a flirting glance over her shoulder to where He sat on the edge of the bed. A small smile played on his mouth for a moment. If she’d not been looking, she might have missed it. Turning her back to him, she smiled her own soft, secretive smile. She wiggled her hips, shimmying the soft fan of silky fabric that just brushed the lower curves of her bottom.

She took a step backwards, towards him. She wriggled, stepped, wiggled and stepped. She glanced back, enjoying his reactions. He’d lain down now, on his side, head propped with his hand. She glanced at his jean-clad crotch. Yes, there was a definite bulge there. She stopped moving, and bent forward, knees turned inward, heels out. Bending slowly, she offered her ass to his view. Why he loved the way her panties showed under her naughty short-short-oh so naughtily-short skirts, she didn’t quite understand. Yet, it was His fantasy, and she was determined to play it out.

Glancing under her arm playfully, she noted that his cock was pressing harder against the confines his jeans, the bulge noticeably larger. She bent lower still, fingers sliding down her fishnet stockings,  until she reached the  top strap of her shoe.

She wondered if he could see the damp spot on the center panel of her panties. Wondered if her plump lower lips pressed outward, like an inviting, sultry kiss. Wondered how hard He would fuck her when she finally made it all the way back to where He lay on the bed.

He’d promised a very long “hand” session this time, too. She did enjoy spankings, and over His knee? The best. The heat of His hand on her flesh. The steady thud of His palm, the small whimpers, and His grunts as He worked her flesh to a ruddy glow. Just thinking about it, the simple but embarrassing act of Him pulling down the white ‘grannie panties’ He’d ordered her to wear made her drip.

She took a step back, still bent over, still waving her panti-clad ass in the air.

Her heel caught on the carpet.

She felt the grab, but was already precariously balanced, bent as she was. She teetered forward, corrected, tilted sideways, corrected again.

Quickly she tried to rise, to catch her balance. Arms pinwheeled in the air, she hung, for one long, drawn-out moment, on the edge of that snagged heel.

And then she went down, with a thud, onto her ass.

She lay, splay-limbed, in shock. She was humiliated. She was embarrassed. She was appalled.

Why the fuck did these stupid accidents keep befalling her. OH, great. “Befalling”…she snorted. There was a slap on the top of the bed and a funny, strangling noise. Rolling to her side, she rose on shaking limbs.

He was laughing.

Laughing so hard that tears were leaking from His closed eyelids. His hand slapped the bed, the other hugged His belly.

“Well, fine”  she snorted.

She stood, on wavering legs, watching Him laugh at her folly. The giggle caught her unaware, and with one faltering step, and another, she collapsed on the bed, consumed in mirth.

“I meant to do that,” she finally said, between giggles.

Hugging her close, He erupted in laughter once again.

 

i offer this as a token of esteem, love, and humor to all of us who are “klutzy sluts”…I know I’m one…but I am not the inspiration for this tale. She knows who she is. 🙂  And….based on her true-life experiences? There will be more of these little tales.  ~n~