Happy Birthday to me! PLUS: Orgasmic Stranger

It’s a snowy Saturday.

It’s my 54th birthday.

I’m not at work.

I’d call that kind of neat.

*does a happy dance*

So, yeah, I’m gonna be kinda broke from missing 2 days of work but look at it this way…I get a chance to practice my “lazy” skills. *laughing* (You know who you are, for pronouncing my “lazy” as an epic fail! LOL!)

So what should today’s story be? Hmmmm…something with a gift, perhaps? Birthday lashes? *ponders* That’s so prosaic, though, don’t you think? How about something…unexpected? Yes, I think that’s just the sort of thing for a snowy nilla birthday…and if you don’t hear any responses to your comments…it likely means that we’re without power here in my little corner of New England…but never fear…I’ll be back!

Orgasmic Stranger

She stood in the center of the darkened room, bare from head to toe. A single light shone down on her. Unrestrained by any mechanical devices, her hands rested just above the curve of her ass, wrists neatly crossed at the small of her back. Her head was up, looking outward, though her eyes were masked. Her hair was loose, hanging down nearly to her waist.

From the shadows a voice boomed.

“Do you accept?”

“I do.”

“Of your own free will?”

“I do.”

“You may ask for the kiss.”

“Kiss me, Sir, please?”

A coil slid out from the shadows, stopping as it hit her foot. There were several gasps from the shadows, so closely did the coiled whip resemble a snake. A figure stepped into the glowing light, dressed in black. His boots gleamed, his pants fitted his legs and bottom like a second skin, even his fingers were black-leather clad.

He bent to retrieve the thick whip, twirling the thing with precision in the air, until it landed with a deceptively small *snap* across the girls bottom. In sync with the girls gasp, a red line appeared.


“Yes, Sir, please kiss me again?”

Another twirling slash and the thick coil danced around her, snapping its painful kiss onto her right breast. The press of the crowd, the heat and longing, the soft sighs from bottoms, and satisfied ‘hmms’ from Tops all combined to make this the most surreal experience that Ebony Onyx Black had ever chronicled for her Lifestyles section in the Sunday reader.

She felt a quick shiver run up her spine as the scene continued to play out, as red lines crisscrossed the young womans body, and the tempo in the room morphed from curiosity to lust. At the end of the ceremony, the man affixed a thick leather collar around the girls throat, with a lock. He removed her blindfold, kissing her roughly.

Now that made Ebony’s heart race. There was nothing that beat a heart stopping kiss like the one she was witnessing. It made her toes curl, and her fingers fly to capture all the feelings she was seeing, feeling.  Who knew that the BDSM culture was so…formal? she wondered.

“So many vanilla’s think that.”

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud, or that someone would answer.

“I’m sorry? Beg your pardon? Vanilla’s? What’s that?”

There was a sound of soft laughter. She couldn’t see him, since the lights were still off, but his voice was sexy. She wondered for one fleeting moment if he was handsome, then checked herself for being so shallow. It wasn’t like she was a babe. Fifty-something, slightly below average height and slightly above average weight, the kindest thing people said about her was that she was “cute”.

“Well, you’d be one.”


“One vanilla.”

She sighed inwardly. She was a vanilla. A keyword, apparently, for a novice, or perhaps uninitiated? “You mean…I don’t really belong here, right?”

“No…not at all. I mean that you are a non-kink person. To us, that translates as ‘vanilla’. It’s not exactly a flattering term, yet it’s not exactly a put down, either.  For instance, if you wrote in that thing you have there, ‘I was the only vanilla women in the circle of BDSM practitioners’ most people would understand that you had never participated before.”

“Ah.” She, who was rarely at a loss for words, had no idea how to follow that comment. She shook herself mentally. She might as well glean what she could before he wandered off.

“So have you done this a long time?”


“Yes, you know…this BDSM thing. Have you done it for a long time?”

“Little girl, this isn’t a ‘thing’ to me. It is part and parcel of who I am. It’s not an event, or a club or a ‘lifestyle’ which implies choice; it is me. Of a certainty, I go to events, I visit clubs, and I play with others…but being a dominant is the essential core of who I am. And you can put that in your little gratuitous article.”

She blinked at the set down. Yet, he didn’t storm off in a hissy fit, as she might have imagined. Instead he stood, watching her. He was very close, infringing on her personal space, to be sure. Not threatening. Just…. looming. Maybe looming was too strong a word, but she certainly felt his presence. Felt the heat from him.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to offend. I just..”

“Yes, I know. You just.”

“This is my first time experiencing this.” She waved her hand towards the couple now entwined in a subtle dance, as the Dom who had collard the girl was now tying her in a complicated series of knots. Damn! She hadn’t wanted to miss that part. She turned her back on the man, intent on capturing the story, sending text notes to her home computer. Later, she would put all the pieces together, every text reminding her of the emotions of the experience.

There was heat behind her as he moved even closer. The entire crowd was shifting, really, pressing and leaning forward to watch as he strung the ropes around and around her, tying her intricately. The girl gasped as he fitted a thick knot against her slit, and Ebony knew that it was pressed against her clit. It was erotic to watch, mesmerizing. In the room, the tension was palpable, as they watched the Dom spider cocoon his prey.

He took her hair in his hand, smoothing it into a long sleek tail, then the next section of rope was wound over, around, and through it, tugging her head, bowing her back into a slender arch.

“I should be so flexible,” she muttered to herself.

“That could be arranged.” She’d forgotten about the man behind her, so locked in the drama weaving in front of her.

“In a pigs eye,” she retorted. He chuckled in her ear, his breath a warm teasing against her cheek. His breath was minty, she noted. If she turned her head would her lips meet his?

Hands settled on her hips, but she said nothing. Ignoring the peaking of her nipples beneath her cotton bra, she tried to block out everything except what she was seeing, feeling, so that she could capture the moment.

“You don’t protest, vanillagirl,” he murmured.

“Sshhh,” she muttered, fingers flying over the keys. His fingers slid up her sides, pinching the loose flesh there and making her squeak a little bit. Now the man was coiling the rope back between her asscheeks, her head back, her hands back, as he wove it through her thighs, over her mound, up the center. He tied off the last of it around her slender throat, and Ebony was impressed that he’d had exactly enough rope to run the entire bit around her.

She was stunning, wrapped in her rope girdle.

“Now comes the joining ceremony,” He whispered in her ear.

“I thought that was…” her fingers paused…”the beginning part with the whip?”

“That was the submission part. She was accepting his domination. Now they will join.” His fingers rose higher, flicking at the underside of her tits. She tried to ignore him, certain that this sort of thing happened all the time at clubs like these. It had been a while since…her breath caught as his fingers caught her succulent nipples, rolling them firmly.

Very firmly.

Pinching them.

Rolling them.

Making her squirm.

She swallowed a sudden upsurge of spit, resisted the urge to grind back her ass on his belly. But oh, mah gawd. The touch of his fingers on her poor lonely nipples was almost too much to bear.

“Will you cum in your panties if I keep doing this?”

His voice, far from being a dash of cold water, seemed to pour gasoline on the fires he’d stoked in her belly. She nodded, her phone forgotten in her hands.

He squeezed her nipples, making her mewl a little. A woman in a catsuit turned and stared, then smiled a knowing smile as she saw the large hands working over her tits.

Did she say ‘lucky slut’ or had Ebony only imagined it?

“Now,” he growled low and quiet into her other ear, his teeth biting and tugging the tender lobe. Her eyes shut as people gathered nearer to the couple in the spotlight, though the picture of the man and woman’s wrists being wrapped together in rough hemp would linger with her.

She was suddenly overcome by sensations.

The pulsing on her hardened nipples

The  pincer-tight grasp of his fingers

The riotous throb between her legs

The undulating ripples starting in her belly

Head thrown back against him, she felt herself sag as her pussy clamped hard, while the orgasm rippled through her, hot waves of lust and need and, surprisingly, pain.

She became aware of noise, as the crowd cheered and hooted for the married couple. Aware that her back had bowed just as the girls had as her body had exploded into a million stars. Aware that she was being held up by her nipples. Aware that she’d just had an orgasm at the hands of a stranger.

“I…” Yet what could she say? His fingers left her, lips grazed her ear, and then the presence of him was gone. Turning quickly, she could barely make out the tall form of someone moving away.  She wanted to call out to him, but with the ceremony going on, it was just not to be.

When the lights came on, she was still very much in the dark.