…get so behind you could see your own ass without looking in a mirror? Yeah. That’s me.
I feel like there just aren’t enough hours in the day just now and it’s making me kinda crazy…not that it takes much, mind you.
You all know I go batshit crazy if I don’t get time to write….by Monday I’ll be all wild-haired and looking like pictures of Einstein (sans theory of relativity!). Except, you know, red-headed.
So you’re stuck with yet another muttering ramble. I need to get a shitload of things done before Friday coz my weekend is already spoken for, and there isn’t a single hour left for writing. (nor, come Monday, energy–fear not if you tune in and there is nothing here.)
I hate when I stress myself out like this, days before I need to. But it is part of what I do. I kind of shrug and move onward (albeit at a fast, fast pace!)–nothing will change it but action, right?
So I was kibitzing with Master about my lack-of-sleep this week, having had several bouts of insomnia. Then explaining that I had to be out late (for me) on Friday night, and up SUPER early for work the next day, netting me about 4 hours of sleep.
Now, this was shortly after He’d said “No fucking way, slut” to my pleading for an Orgasm (Wednesday). The O on Tuesday night had been pretty fucking spectacular, and I was craving an encore, yanno?
“Nope. No way. No fucking way, slut. It’s going to be a lo–ong week for you. But cheer up, nilla, there’s always Tuesday.”
After I whined an bit about the whole ‘no’ thing, I told him about my weekend of hecticness.
He began to chuckle.
You know the kind, right?
When the Sadist wakes up and takes over.
I’m sitting in the window seat in my bedroom, naked as a jay-bird, looking out into the moonlit night, my pussy (already throbby-needy-wet) begins to…melt. Something about that wee transformation in Him just thrills me. It’s menacing in a sexual way. His voice does this…this oh-so-slight change in timbre and He laughs once more. Not a totally humorous laugh, but more of a devious chuckle kind of laugh. It’s the laugh that bodes no good for me.
‘oh no,’ I think to myself. Now what?
“Well, nilla…that’s wonderful. Sounds like a night you should get an o. Maybe…maybe” His voice drops a bit here, both in pitch and volume, and my pussy is almost bleeding sex juice now. I feel it slicking my thighs, and reach down to touch.
“…maybe even an O…and a half, I think.”
I am silent for a minute, then gasp and stutter.
He laughs more.
“B-b-but….Masterrrrrrrrrrr…” I whimper at last.
“Yes nilla?” His tone is …jovial.
“But it’s going to be …well…I’m going to be out until at least 1030 on Friday…”
He laughs even more, his voice rich with delighted amusement. My pussy lurches at the sound.
“I’m having one hell of a picture here…you getting home, doing all you do before bed, sliding into your bed sometime around 11, and knowing you have to pound your pussy before midnight because it’s a required orgasm…and a half. Then up early, wet and sticky thighs, being all horny and turned on for work. Aaaahhh…”
And turned on.
How is it that He can do this to me so readily? Like I’m hair-trigger-wired so that the smallest show of Sadism rocks my world and turns me into a horny wanton slut?
Sometimes I can barely believe this is me, who used to be so cautious, so wary. So…vanilla.
Oh boys n girls?
nilla is so not vanilla anymore.
What I am, is joyfully, blissfully happy…even though I can still see my ass running ahead of me. 🙂
(ps. keep reading. I was so flubber-flustered yesterday I actually wrote TWO posts for today…so if you’ve been wondering about Sam’s story…read on. ❤ nilla)