Smokin’ Hawt



She could not believe it. The fucking key had slipped out of her hands. But could it just fall to the floor between her feet? Could it even tumble from her fingers to the netherworlds under her bed? No, no the fucking thing had to bounce off her toe, and tumble into the heating vent grate. The one bolted to the floor with tamper-proof nuts. She’d been trying to get into that fucking grate for two years to get it vacuumed out– with no success. And now her fucking key was down there.

Wriggling her wrists, she sought to loosen the tight grip of the steel cuffs. Even knowing that she wasn’t going to get out of them, she tried.

And tried.

The chain she’d looped through the cuffs held the vibe snugly in her pussy. It looped around her throat, around her waist, and back to her wrists, giving her a very small trajectory of movement.

She was so fucked.

So embarrassed.

And the vibe hummed on.

She was overstimulated, which was why she tried to unlock herself early. Originally she’d planned to try to cum 7 times. Lucky 7. She’d only made it to 3 before the pressure, constant and demanding, had become too much. Even now she could feel the clenching in her lower belly, like a persistent ache that couldn’t be denied.


Doubled over on the bed, she came again, harder than ever before. The splash of liquid on her thighs alarmed her…had she…hurt herself? Weak, spent, she peered down her legs. Nothing but clear fluid—oh great. Now, of all times, she finally had the squirt happen?

Torn between awe and fretfulness, she pushed up off the bed. Who the fuck could she call?

No. noooooo. And yet, what other choice did she have? She picked up the phone and speed dialed her friend.

“Geena? Didn’t you say you had a friend who was a fireman in his non-dom life? Yes? Well, um…I was…well..I have a wee problem and I think I need help. No. No you can’t come over and help me. No. But if I could have his number? Or maybe you could call him and have him call me? Okay, that’d be great. Thanks. Um. No. I’ll tell you later. Maybe. Bye.”

She disconnected, just as another orgasmic wave passed through her. Bending too much pushed the fucking thing deeper, extending the deep-rooted tremors. Again the rushing gush of fluid, again the waves of intense pleasure, nearly debilitating.

Slowly she moved to the front door, unlocking it, before moving back to her bedroom. Dressing was out of the question. Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone. The readout showed an unfamiliar number.


“Is this Geena’s friend, Melody?”

“Yes…are you…” her voice dropped, always so nervous talking to a real dominant. “…the fireman who is also a dom?”

“I am. Are you in trouble?”

“Yes…not life threatening…but…well…the thing is…” Oh, the mortification. He didn’t interject or urge her along either.

“i dropped the key and I can’t get it off…”

“Tell me where you are. I’ll bring my bolt cutters.”

He disconnected right after she recited her address. ‘Abrupt,” she thought to herself. In what felt like seconds, there was a knock on the front door, the sound of it opening.


The voice was deeper in person.

“In here..” she called. The orgasm blasted through her just as he came to her bedroom door. Her knees revolted as she trembled and quaked through another orgasmic spasm. They were coming faster, harder, wetter. She wondered if one could die from over-orgasmic bliss.

She hadn’t even realized that she’d gone down, that he had scooped her up and laid her on the bed.

“Quite a pretty mess here, girl.”

His eyes moved with heated intensity over her body. They may have paused for a moment on her breasts, her engorged nipples, her swollen pussy. Or maybe it was her imagination.

“Your dom left you here like this? I want to have a conversation with the fucker who leaves a slut alone, chained up like this…”

“no..” she gasped, as the familiar tugs in her cunt came again…”play…solo…no….dom…ohgawdddddd….”


When she roused again, she was free. The pressure in her pussy was gone, her arms were freed from the chains, the cuffs. The vent was open, moved to the side, the hole open and full of dust. Funny that in her lazy state that she noted that strange fact. Funny too that she was laying there, considering if she should get her vacuum to attend to that.

As she made to sit up, a hand slapped between her breasts, pushing her back. Another hand held a glass of water, proffering it to her.


That was not an offer, but an order. She drank. Her eyes lifted to meet his,  which were crinkled in amusement.

“Gave yourself a hell of a scare, eh girl?”

Solemnly she nodded, drinking the water slowly. She checked him out, trying to be subtle. Gosh he was sexy. One hot fireman. One hot fireman who was also a dom. His words interrupted her fantasy of him flipping her over and spanking her for her misdeeds. And fucking her. From behind. Like dogs. Like a wanton whore.

“I wasn’t looking for a new sub. However, I think we need to have a long, long conversation about solo play…and about not playing solo anymore.”

She blinked, coming out of her haze. She’d been well and truly rescued…out of the frying pan…and now, perhaps, leaping right into the fireman.



guess my libido isn’t dead after all…read a bunch of blogs and some news stories…and they all coalesced into this. 🙂 ~nilla~


…hot (but you all know that already–nilla HATES the heat)

…needy. I’ve not had Master time in several weeks and I’m grappling with my intense neediness. Hopefully we’ll get a wee bit of time this weekend after work one of the two days I work. It wont’ be much but honey? It’s so much better than the nuthin’, right?

…frenetic. I hate when things are so busy I can barely take time to sit and write. I’ve had a bunch of stories flit through my head, but I’ve actually fallen asleep (despite the heat) pretty quickly these last, busy, days.

…stressed. I think part of that goes back to not seeing Master. Isn’t it amazing how just spending a bit of time with our Dominant One centers and calms the mind? The heat makes it hard for me to think, and my job is very physical, so I’m so drained when I get home—but still so stressed. I know you all have those same stressors…family, kids, house, car (oy vey). That’s not a complaint–it’s just — life.

You know what I’m not feeling (and this is part of my stress, believe it or not!)? I’m not feeling horny. Like at all. I *know* in my head that it’s just the cycle, that my body can’t process any more heat. But for a slut who is normally always turned on? It’s a disturbing turn of events.

I’m thinking of you all–and hoping we’ll have more days together the summer closes. I’m not a fan of heat (gee have I said that enough??) BUT…in August, football returns–see? there’s always a silver lining.

Until then?

I’ll continue to be here sporadically. Working to keep up with comments you’ve all been kind enough to leave me. I love when you all do that. It’s like having conversations with friends.

As I was falling asleep last night, I did have a tentacle dream. Maybe my sexy isn’t totally gone….



HNT — Hot Pink

Dontcha love double entendres? It is so fucking hot here in the northeast. Been many hot days in a row, and more to come, unfortunately. And yes, I AM whining about it, thank you very much. I can whine here, this is my space for it. This is the weather I truly dread-I just can’t seem to like the heat.  Pushing through it, doing what needs doing during this oh-so-busy-week…but definitely NOT enjoying it.

Which gets me to thinking….

Wonder if I’ll come back here and look with longing at this pic when it’s midwinter?  Frankly? I kinda doubt it…I don’t mind the cold all that much, for me it is more about the drabness of winter,  the lack of color. With two fine young men at my disposal I barely even need to shovel anymore. 🙂

Whatever your weather, it’s *always* hawt on HNT here!


quiet ahead….

Hey pervies!

I am still here, life is still good, and I’m super-wicked busy…so it’s going to be a bit quiet around here for the next two weeks…I’ll post when I can, and when I can’t?

Well, isn’t that what archives are for? 🙂


Fucking Twisted

“You’ve been a good boy,” His wife said, patting him on the head. “You may go play poker at Joe’s house while I go visit your Mother.”

His cum-smeared face broke into a wider grin. If there was one thing he enjoyed, it was permission for poker night. Obviously the multiple orgasms he’d given his Mistress-wife, along with the deep rimming that always sent her over the edge, had done the trick.

Her fingers traced down the welts she’d slapped into his shoulders with her crop as his lips did their magic work between her thighs.

“I love leaving you wearing my marks. Come, let us pick out some pretty panties for you to wear before you go out with your friends. I wonder what they would say if they saw you in your pink lace pants, my pet?”

Her smile was fierce, making his cock twitch uncomfortably in the confines of the steel cage he wore.  The humiliation turned him on, even as he cringed inwardly.  He felt the insistent throb in his balls. He needed to tamp that down quickly. Yet his shaft continued its relentless thickening as she hmmmed her way through his special panty drawer. At long last she passed him a pair of white lacy undies, with a single pink ribbon bow on the front. She clucked at him, flipping a finger under the cage, making him cringe in pain. Her nail scraped along one testicle, drawing a gasp from him.

“Maybe later, slut, after I come home from visiting your Mother. Perhaps I’ll release your poor cock and let you cum. You be a good boy and I’ll be back home tomorrow, mid-morning. We’ll talk about this,” and she wrapped her hand around the steel gate containing his penis, shaking it and making him moan, “upon my return.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

He kissed her breasts, her pussy lips, and her mouth before she pushed him away and headed for the shower. He dressed to the sound of her singing, smiling as she hit a note that might have set a dog to howling. He was tucking his shirt into his jeans as she came out fluffing her hair.

He took her overnight bag down to her car, amazed even after these 15 and more years, at just how well his mother and his wife got along. He thought his mom might pass out if she ever knew of the nest of metal that encircled his privates. But it worked for him. It worked for both of them. Happier than he’d ever been before in his life, he was beyond contentment, and nigh onto sublime bliss at the way their lives had evolved.

In moments, his wife had kissed him goodbye, and was driving away. He stood for a moment waving before heading inside to call Joe.


She pulled into the driveway of her mother-in-law’s home.  At nearly 60, the woman was a powerhouse of energy and drive. It had been daunting to a young bride. But they’d reached a compromise that worked for them both.

Tugging her bag from the backseat, she opened the kitchen door. Putting it on the luggage cart that was always there, she removed her clothing, folding it over her bag, and knelt on the pillow beside the door, hands behind her head, eyes lowered.

She got a funny thrill in her belly when her mother-in-laws sneakers entered her line of sight.

“What a good girl you are. Now come here and greet me properly.”

Crawling across the floor, she buried her face in the musky crotch of her husbands mother.


yes. naughty. twisted. kinky. all of that and I’m sure some of you will come up with more descriptive terms.  sometimes i even amaze myself at what comes into my head at times. 🙂 ~nilla~


Her hands drew tight around the metal bar as she lifted to her toes. Biting back the cry of pain, she bit hard into the rubber ball lodged behind her teeth.

The faint cut of an instrument passing through air was all the warning she got before another blow landed close enough to where the first one did. There was no relief in that near-miss.

Pain exploded over the curve of her hip. Shoulders hunched, it looked like she was trying to cover her ears, to block out sound with her raised arms.  She panted through the raw hurt of it, short staccato explosions of breath through her nose. Tears fell unnoticed, sweat slid through her hair, plastering it to her scalp.

Another lash, harder than the others brought the first squeal. Her toes curled, her knuckles whitened as her body quaked with the fast hard pops. It was white-hot, it was molten.

She shivered as the sweat ran freely, twisted and turned to free herself. The bonds held true. She grunted, gurgled, drooled. He changed the rhythm of the blows now, slowing. Deep hard thuds against her thighs, ass, and back. Eyes closed, she absorbed them all.

Falling under the spell of the pain, the craving for it ignited the rocket that sent her spiraling away, out into the nether regions of her mind. She felt the connection between them-Him, the belt, and her- all joined in a unique meeting of mutual cravings. She let the stars take her sailing, feeling yet not caring, the sudden rush in the tempo of the pain-dance.

Breaking through the throbbing was the cool touch of His hand, soothing over her welted flesh, pulling her back to Him with just that simple stroke. Her burning flesh calmed under His hand, the heartbeat in her assaulted backside the twin to the rushing love she felt for this Man, who could hurt her so deliciously. That He understood her craving for His need to draw the hurt to the surface was nothing short of a miracle. Her fingers tightened and relaxed upon the bar He had tied her to.

The rustling from behind her assured. He was sorting through His Black Magic Bag.

The whistle through the air was her only warning as He struck her upper arm. Her hands drew tight around the metal bar as she lifted to her toes. Biting back the cry of pain, she bit hard into the rubber ball lodged behind her teeth.

Inside, she smiled.

Produce Aisle (100 words)

“Be careful what you ask for” was the adage that came to mind as He handed her the cucumbers.

“Three for a buck…and I know just where these will go.” His smile was wicked, her blush intense.

Who knew the produce aisle would inspire Him? She didn’t dare to pass too close to where the corn-on-the-cob overflowed from the bin around the corner.  Already there were unusual items in her hand basket;  ginger root, and Italian cucumber, and a skinny eggplant, now joined by standard cucumbers.

This would be the last time she whined about doing the grocery shopping alone.

my thanks to Tip for the inspiration! ~nilla~


“u r so sexy”

how would you know? you’ve never seen me.

“I’ve felt you–you’ve touched me…sexy is not about looks, Sir”

a valid point–go on

“u make me feel…make me feel things so intently..the way no one else has”

I am not your first partner

“u r the first one to reach that place in me…i don’t know how to describe it..”

try–and no quoting Yoda back at me

“giggling–Yes Sir! Well…i always felt this–unreachable core. where nothing touched me. my heart? my mind? my ”

“…spirit kept safe in this wee dark place. a big wall around it. you, YOU Sir, got through it.”

by hurting you

“not just that…that’s part of it. but you listen. you catch every word…and find the meaning behind it. NO one”

“listens like a Dom learning his sub.And by listening you connect. with my thoughts and how they intertwine with my”

“feelings, and my body. When I’m feeling horny but don’t know why–YOU do.”

learning a submissive–her responses to all forms of stimuli, what turns her on, what she grapples with–it’s one of the tools that I use, to draw intense reactions from you. I crave that kind of control–and you feed that craving. It’s a symbiotic relationship

“Absolutely truth. I love what you do to me, Sir, to my head, my heart…my body. Even though we’ve not met face to face–the way you play me? I’m”

“like silly putty in your hands…melting at the slightest touch.”

I do enjoy touching you. Your little moans as I danced behind you, pinching your ass as we ground together in the midst of all those people.

“Will you ever let me see you?”

You’ve seen me.

“What? I’ve…seen you? When? How!?”

Around. I see you nearly every day.

“This…makes me wet.”

I know. Lift up your skirt so I can see your wet cunt.

“You’re here? In the grocery store? I’m never gonna finsih my shopping coz I keep txting U…”

fumble fingered in your excitement? Pretty panties. I like pink on you. I like it best when it comes from my hand on your skin.

Come closer….to the meat department, little girl. Sir has some meat just for you…




Yadda blah blah

How was that for an inspirational title eh?

I’ve had a busy crazy weekend, pretty much from the 3rd through today, really. Company and fun and visiting and stuff. Living stuff. You know the errand running, and work, and kids, and yard and and and.

There are a lot of “ands” in my life these days. The teen is working a part-time job for the rest of the summer, the family is doing things and it just seems like every moment is chock full of stuff. I’m not complaining–it’s good to have a busy life, but it’s not always conducive to writing.

Tonight I chose to respond to all your wonderful and fun and sweet comments over the last few days.

Thank you.

Thanks for taking the time to respond to what I write, telling me what you liked, how it affects you…these are the sorts of “payments” that authors crave. We sit, we create, then sit back and go “did they like it? was it fun for them? did it create a response? what kind of response?”

That’s what I look for when I’m reading your comments…so if it ooks you out, or turns you on or makes you flush in guilty pleasure? that all goes into my “word bank” and I can build future stories with that sort of information.


I had a…not a fight…but a thing with TW…and called Master crying. When I get super emo, I can’t talk. It’s like all my vocal chords freeze tight and I can’t make words come out. So I squeaked through the phone, and he talked me calm. Eventually I got words out, cried some more, been super-sad, and working towards getting over it. Not like crying helps…so I just need to heal and move on, just like I did when I broke my ankle. I’m really glad He was there to listen, to guide me. He’s so damn good to me, for me.

Speaking of Master, we’re hoping to get some time in early August…our July playtime had to be pushed back because our mutual obligations precluded us having free time on the same weekend. Summer is like that.

Hoping I’ll have some time to write you all some devious delight tomorrow…I’ve been having these dreams….


Until then, be naughty, and for gosh sake…tell me about it!