A Memory Surfaces

“nilla.”

His voice is  very, very firm. The bathroom door is ajar; I am pulling things out of my tote, preparing to dress for Him.

“Yes, Sir?”

“nipple clamps.”

“NOW.”

The volume never goes up, only the firm intensity of His voice. He *never* yells. Ever. But this was definitely a strong directive.

“Yes, Sir.”

I feel the change come over me. We are no longer Master and nilla sharing a vanilla luncheon date, but Master and His property.

I swallow hard, and with hands shaking just a bit from nervous anticipation, fasten the clamps onto my nipples.

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

He bids me to sit on the edge of the bed while He unpacks. Some of it is done already, but I think the mindfuck aspect appeals to Him. I sit and watch things come out of that big black bag, trying to not see them, to not imagine them being used. He hits hard and every fucking tool in that bag carries its own stingy wallop.

Turning, He shows me the cane. Smiles that deadly sexy scary smile.

“Move your hair. Shoulders back.”

I sit up, tossing my hair over my shoulders.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Short hard quick raps on the tops of my tits.

I suck air in, holding it. It hurts, those damn deceptive little taps.

Hurts good.

Hurts intensely.

He takes the cane, lifts the dangling chain between my nipples, twists it around and lifts it up. I start to rise.

“Oh no. You sit.”

Biting my lip, I sit. I feel a bit like a trained pet. I feel a bit embarrassed. But the pain in my nipples swipes away that, and replaces it with a fiery burn as He lifts…higher, higher, higher, until I’m whimpering.

And then He drops the chain.

About vanillamom

For over 8 years--(EIGHT?!) nilla and M have been a D/s couple. I'm the "small s" side of that designation, as he often reminds me. I'm silly and prone to giggling at inopportune times. He's a wicked Sadist, who feeds me my drug of choice--pain. My brain is always spinning dirty and dark little fantasies, which I sometimes share with the world. Welcome to the nilla-verse. It's wet and slippery here...with a dragon or two lurking.
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7 Responses to A Memory Surfaces

  1. greengirliam says:

    Hmmm – jealous – yup…. Not the bad kind, more the smiling for you, wistful for me kind. Sounds like a lovely memory to have float back to mind.

    • vanillamom says:

      it was amazing…it came to me the other night as i was on the edge of falling asleep…the tone of his voice…all of it…bam! I’m sorry you’re wistful. sending hugs…

      nilla

  2. sirqsmlb says:

    Oh that change…how one word…one look…one tone can take our breath away, set those amphetamine dosed butterflies a-flutterin, make our hands shake and our knees weak. Mmmmmmm.

    hugs,
    fiona

    • vanillamom says:

      yes…you captured that…the amphetamine dosed butterflies…great line! And it matches that feeling in the belly…part of the rush and thrill we get from ttwd…

      thanks for commenting fiona!

      nilla

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