Backed up to the wall, his hand circling her throat, all she could do was stare

not swallow

barely breathe

eyes flushed with unshed tears

His eyes bore into hers, stabbing her with ferocity

hand on her throat a promised threat

hand on her breast pain fulfilled

Her heart triphammers

and she isn’t certain

if it’s fear

or lust.


Beads of sweat melt into the bedspread, the squeaking rhythm of the springs




matching the rhythm of his thrusts


the clenching of his fingers upon her hips

as he pumps


into her

reluctant ass.


Wrists align with feet

tied with crisp white rope




Eyes covered blackly

mouth ring-gagged




Footsteps in the hall



The door opens.

Silence like a slap

of shock.

Husky male laughter





The wind blows through the trees, rippling the hem of her blouse. It is open, that thin cotton covering, her bra yanked up over her tits. He leans against her, hard, her nipples catching between groves in the bark as they rise with her lust.

His fist is coiled in her hair, her head back, mouth open, trying to hold back the whimpers of pain and pleasure. His thumb is in her asshole, fingers in her pussy, flexing and wiggling, making her mad with desire.

His husky laugh fills her head.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to her, holding her back, making her want.

Not food.

There in the park as the sun throws slanting beams of golden ocre at the buildings, she wants him to take her, right here, here where the sounds are clearly audible; the hawking call of the street vendor, the beeping taxi horns enmeshed in commuter traffic woes, the clicking of heels on the sidewalk on the other side of the tangled brush.

She wants to feel him filling her with his thickness, the heat of his hard shaft piercing her wet and yearning void.

Here, right here, in the gloaming evening in the park.


He strikes her left tit, left nipple, left tit.

Gentle and feather soft, hard and stinging, the blows have no pattern.

Her pussy grows wetter as the flesh of her bosom reddens, as her nipple rouses to a hard tight knot of want, as the hurting throb of her tit in reply in the needy pulse of her clit.

“Shall we balance you?”

Her head shakes no as the pain in her tit grows deeper.

“Very well, then, something different then.”

Flipping her to her belly, his fingers pinch her right nipple, and twist.

As she yelps out her displeasure,  her ass rises as she attempts to pull her abused nipple from his grip. The bed creaks under his weight, and he fills her in one smooth stroke.


Not a ton of time today peeps…things are busy at Casa nilla this week. Consider this a blog-cation treat.