Thanks Epiphora- ~ Reading Snark That Was So Good That I Cried…

….laughing that is.  This came into my email box the other day from my fellow blogger with a ‘tude, Epiphora. She is the sexpert on sex toys. Her reviews are honest, snarky, funny–and a great way to find out if a vibe is worth the money being asked (have you SEEN how much some of those vibes are going for these days? OMFG…$200 for a vibe? Uhm. No. Not for this poor chicka). I always read her reviews before I consider plunking down some of my hard earned cash for a vibe. Anyway, she posted her quarterly “snark digest” and it had this story as part of the round up: *click here*

Or perhaps I should say (in my best tv news anchor voice)  “this just in…….”

Read it with a box of tissues at hand–you WILL laugh that hard.

Thanks Epiphora!! You can find her blog here with a link to her “snark digest” (the above link is from Digest 12).


At the Dentist

thank you Rose, for the idea and inspiration…~n~

He leaned over her. Her fingers were clenched in her lap.


His voice was deep and soothing. His hand rested briefly on her shoulder, giving a little squeeze. He looked into her mouth, hmmming behind his mask. She closed her eyes. That made the dentist go away. Didn’t it?


Why was he giving her a facemask, she wondered. To check a sore tooth? She remembered that he’d used it before, and she had felt terrific afterwards. Her tooth gave a lurching throb and she took a short breath.

“Relax,” he said, squeezing her shoulder again. “It is easier for me to get into those deep back area’s when you’re just a bit out of it.”

She inhaled, the scent sweet and pungent. In seconds she felt floaty. The way she felt after an orgasm, actually. A few more breaths and she felt free, giddy. The mask was moved away.


There was a bit of scraping, a bit of a jab.

“Got it.” He waved something into her vision.

“A nasty little piece of nut,” he said, moving out of sight.

The words came from far away. She giggled. A hand stroked her tit. Squeezed. She moaned softly. Her chair lay back, further. Hands slid up the outside of her thighs, lifting her skirt.

“pretty panties”

The urge to giggle rose again but she stifled it. She shifted in her chair, needing. A large hand cupped her, the middle finger pressing against her clit. She moaned, arching, rising to press harder.

“naughty wanton slut”

‘hmmmmm’ she murmured. The ache in her tooth was gone. But the ache between her thighs remained, a steadily growing need to rise, to impale, to be filled. His fingers cupped, pressed harder. A fingernail scraped across the silk covering her plump pussy just over her throbbing clit, drawing a whimper from her mouth. A wet spot stained the red silk of her panties. That finger drew teasing circles over and around that sensitive bit of flesh, not quite touching it now. She shifted, trying to force more contact.

The mask fitted to her face again.


In her mind, flowers fell from the sky with every breath, while heat bloomed between her legs. Her mouth opened, panting, as the crotch of her silken panties was pushed aside, as thick fingers were slowly inserted. Her “yessss” came out in a long hisssing sigh as the mask was removed.

Her legs fell to each side of the chair as she wordlessly begged for more, those fingers curling and jutting inside of her.

It wasn’t enough.

Her voice was a soft and husky whisper as she begged for more.

“Open,” he said, from far and away. The tap on her cheek reminded her to spread her lips. Tooth. Dentist.

Something thick and hard and heavy filled her mouth. She moaned around it as fingers rubbed her clit. Her head was lower than her feet now, the chair tilted far back. Yet that thickness thrusting, slow and steady, anchored her.

‘nailed her’, she thought, the pun of it making her want to giggle. She was giddy, and-and-and- suddenly soaring, exploding, her lower body arching as her cunt clenched around the fingers invading her.

She felt the slap of testicles against her head as he began to pump harder. He grunted now, nearing his end. She felt the thick head of his cock pressing deeper with every stroke, felt the clenching gag rise as he filled her throat. His fingers pinched her clit hard as she tried to toss her head, to seek breath as he held there, deep-seated.

The tang of semen washed against her tongue as he came, pulling out halfway before thrusting deeply and disgorging his load. Small mewling sounds and wriggling presaged her own explosion as his fingers clamped even harder onto her clit. The pain and pleasure sent her reeling over the edge.


Walking into her apartment, she pinned the card onto her fridge.

Follow-up examination

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

630 pm.


Finding the Perfect D/s Partner?

I’m pretty lucky.

I’ve been with my Master for 5 years…if you count from when we first started talking, then six. I can’t believe it’s been that long.

I started my D/s journey on the internet, in a short-lived thing…maybe two weeks? There wasn’t enough companionship, too many orders and this life was all so new to me.

Then there was the ill-fated romp with sin and her Sir…it lasted 5 or 6 months and came at a time when Master and I were struggling in our early days. It was a difficult time–MoS was a hard taskmaster and a very strict Dom. Very much protocol driven–it’s his thing. I thought it was my thing. But it wasn’t a good match for my heart, so despite loving him,loving her… I broke it off. I spent more time unhappy and fearful than I did feeling fulfilled as a submissive. When it feels that bad, and it is hurting others in the relationship that much…its time to be done with it.

It about broke me, to be honest.

That’s when the light bulb went off in my head, my heart, my cunt. I talked to my Sir. Really, deeply and honestly. About what I wanted, what I needed. About what HE wanted, needed.

Turns out that we’re pretty well matched that way. 😀

Master IS the Master for me. Okay, so he’s not into protocols…that works for me. The things He demands are things that mesh well. Yes, sometimes He makes me do things that I don’t like for His amusement…but that also makes me hot, you know? It doesn’t happen all the time, but often enough to keep me on my toes.

So why am i spilling my guts here?

Coz I have talked to many subs (or emailed, etc)…who long for a Dom to master them. Someone who isn’t an asshat (at least not all the time. *grin*) to deal with. Someone to bond with. It ain’t easy. I’ve been there.

And I’ve corresponded with Doms who are sub-less. Doms who want to control, to have, to share. Some online, some IRL.

And now there is no more collar me, since the big blow up over there. In honesty, I met Master, (or rather, he met me) via Fetlife, but it was one of those 1-in-100 odds that we ever would have. I liked His snarky comment to me…he liked my sassy response to his snark. We corresponded for 4, 5 months or so before we met for real.

And via Fet, I’ve been asked several times to play. Nope. Been there, done that, have the tee-shirt.

But how? How now does one find –if not their perfect mate, then at least an option to meet. Do you have any ideas? Will you share? Are you looking for a sub? Are you looking for a Dom? Am I playing matchmaker here?


That’s not my job. I can’t vett or recommend. I’m just wondering. For my friends who are lonely, and looking.

(if you choose to respond to this privately, don’t be afraid to email me. I love to chat with folks that way too.)


All’s Busy on the Eastern Front

I’m certainly not inundating your “in box” with lots of posts of late, am I? Between my kids, my gardens and familial responsibilities, it seems my time to be here has been greatly dwindling. But I am working on a wee tale, and needing to work on chapters to stories already begun. . . trying to carve out time this week for a major writing binge. 😀

Master and I are hoping that we can hook up in a few weeks. The maturation of my teen means less treks into the city to get to see one another. Finding time in the summer is a challenge for us both, actually. I know that it will make the time we DO get all the sweeter. You know…when it finally happens and all.

But …

I’m losing my pain mojo. Can one do that?

I  had to bow to the fates yesterday and had to text Him that there was no way I could get away and besides I didn’t want to hold HIM up in His schedule waiting for me (good thing too as I never did get the free time I was hoping for, thanks to an unexpected drop in by good friends). As a reward for that selfless act, He gave me an O.

It was a good O, too. I was going to put it in the bank–I was so tired last night. But I couldn’t drop off the edge into sleep, too keyed up. Having an orgasm after days and days of NOT having one can either be super powerful tsunami…or dud.

Last night was a tsunami…but let me back up a bit.

I took out my toys, arranging them carefully on the bed. I should add in here that my favorite vibe died last Tuesday…I was PISSED as it was only a month old, dang it. I have a Hitachi but I’ve never been able to orgasm with it–it’s just toooooooo powerful and I would have to pull it away because the sensation was overwhelming.

I put a peg on my nipple. Not the pretty one, either, with its tender bite. No, this was one of my OLD clothspins…and the bite on this fucker is only a few steps down from my clamps. And it hurt.

A lot.

A ton.

A MOUNTAIN of hurt.

I’m just that out of practice.

And i had this fleeting thought of “OMG” …how could I stand having a playdate if I couldn’t even take the bite of a fucking clothes pin??

(no answers for that yet, btw)

I tried using my back up vibe–but it wasn’t quite right. I needed more…better…something.

In desperation I reached for the Hitachi, knowing I was likely doomed to disappointment. Instead…this:

20140622_234747a tsnumai…see? It was the most *incredible* orgasm I’ve had except for being with Him.


But the pain thing…yeap…that has me a bit worried. A bit. I’m SURE He will correct my mojo…

(kinda looking forward to that sort of ‘correcting’ yanno?)


So He Sends me a Text…

…never know what that Man will say when HE initiates a text…this one made me laugh, out loud (and still does, every time I read it)…

His note to me was “This is the sort of text you would send…and my response to it”


An elderly couple had just learned how to send text messages on their cell  phones. The wife was a romantic type and the husband was more of a no-nonsense guy.

One afternoon the wife went out to meet a friend for coffee. She decided to send her husband a romantic text message and she wrote:

“If you are sleeping, send me your dreams. If you are laughing, send me your  smile. If you are eating, send me a bite. If you are drinking, send me a sip. If you are crying, send me your tears. I love you.”

The husband texted back to her: “I’m on the toilet.  Please advise.”


Oh yeah….that’s us…


HNT–Time for Some Pussy and Ass



It is the last HNT of Spring…the weather in the northeast has been heating up, and we stand at the verge of ….



And while I don’t love days-on-end of the hot stuff (a rare occurrance here anyway)…this IS a sex blog and it’s time to heat things up! Amiright?



It’s time for some nilla pussy and ass don’t you think?

*nods sagely*

*takes a deep breath*

(hey, if you think it’s easy showing your hoohaw and bum on a public forum…you try it (and send me the link!)





(my bad…)


That was very mean of me (and entirely TOO much fun!)


Okay, per Master’s order, here’s the weekly boob! (Had fun playing with the colors & textures a bit –damn that phone app is addicting!)



It is a longstanding rule that I am to text Him at the start and the end of my day.  

I am glad to do it. gives me that connection which I crave. 

Except. ……

The other night?  I fell asleep before I could do it.  I woke up at midnight or something and find a text from Him. 

Where the fuck is My goodnight? 

I can forget-you can not. 

It gave me a wonderful feeling.  He doesn’t always respond to my goodnights or to my nilla mushy text kisses. ..(though always sends me a morning text)so it’s good to know that it IS important to Him-that he did and does miss my little notes. 

Even though it is woefully unfair that HE can miss. Of course. . It isn’t about fair.  It’s that the slut doesn’t have any choice on whether He responds or not…. because j the slut doesn’t make the rules.  And as He would say

Fair isn’t part of my equation nilla.  It’s my way-end of story. 


And that is hot as hell. And why I do this wicked thing.  Control. Dominance.  Inequality.  Surrender.  Bliss. 


HNT–That’s What Friends are For

I haven’t spent ANY time talking about my trek to see sofia…okay maybe a wee bit there, but I haven’t spent much time talking about ALSO meeting fiona…which was truly a blast. (and she now knows how very easy it is for me to get tipsy. And that I’ve not been in a bar in over 37 years. See? Truly a “vanilla” mom.)

Not only is she sweet and funny and sexy and saucy, but our fiona is a giver. She gave both sofia and I a goodie bag (and I do mean goodies…chocolate. oh my gawd..nom nom nom!) And what do good kinky subsisters also give one another?




Oh, you can’t see them? How bout this one?


Isn’t it the cutest little pervertable? There are little glimmer-y “jewels” and that sweet owl just sitting there and taking it all in. But wait — there’s more! There’s *this* one:



It says (that wise old owl):  DO MORE OF WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY


See? It’s a perfectly executed vanilla-into-sub gift. The kind of thing that fiona is amazing at. I wore them Tuesday evening when I got my weekly orgasm…and okay, they’re not alligator clamps…but after about 15 minutes? It doesn’t matter. They still bite. They still give that delicious wonderful naughty painful boost that makes an orgasm just shudder through me.

There is more to share about my time with sofia and fiona…I don’t know if there are words to encapsulate that kind of experience, really. It’s beyond fun to meet up with fellow bloggers, let alone other people who are normal outside but freaky on the inside. To know that a gift box could contain chocolate–and pain pins. To be able to talk openly about the need for spankings, or being pegged into a closet by ones nipples, or being tied to a rock with only enough rope to be able to reach (and fetch) coffee for one’s Dom. To sit in the kitchen drinking tea and not even blink at having to step over said rope on the floor to get the milk out of the fridge.

It’s a gift.

Rare, like diamonds. A kinship of kink, perhaps. We have differing needs, but share the need for submission, passion, pain. The levels of those may vary within each of us, (I know my need for pain is more than sofia’s…but her need to be controlled is greater than mine). I can’t do day-to-day D/s, while my two subsisters weave it into their lives beautifully.

We’re all different. But we’re all kinky.

It all goes to the idea that there isn’t a “wrong” way to do this thing we do. This fascinating dance of giving our control up to another, of allowing–no–craving/needing/wanting/–them to hurt us in order to give us pleasure. The acceding of control (and in some cases, rights).

There was a moment in sofia’s kitchen on the day I was to leave. The kitchen trash was full and I was about to change it.

“No!” Sofia says in her soft twang.

“No?” (I’m chief trash changer at my house)

“No, that’s Sir’s job. I’m not allowed to change that. One of His rules.”

She pauses a moment, then attacks her keyboard.

“There,” she says, her eyes alight with pleasure, “I just asked him if you could change it.”

Right there in that moment she was living the dream. I don’t know if she really got it, felt it…because it was “situation normal” for her. But *I* saw it, as an outside observer. That glow in her eyes. The small happy smile on her face. He was at work but still exerted control over her choices. She would no more have gotten up to change the trash than run naked up the main street of her community. It just wouldn’t be done.

In a few minutes, His reply came back.

“No, she may not.”

Four powerful words that emphasized the role of D/s in their household. Not only was I a guest in their home, but I was a submissive guest. This is the beauty of visiting with others who do this wicked thing we do. To see it, feel it in a different yet powerful way. Whether clothes pins inviting me to “do more of what makes you happy”, or a “no she may not” — it’s all part and parcel of a submissive get-together.

I couldn’t have been more happy.


Already Falling Behind

I said that I would write more regularly, didn’t I? Ha! Best laid plans, my friends.

Here’s the short summary:

Ice cream with Master. Watching cows frolic in the fields (insert dirty jokes here, for He sure did). A bit of pinching. A bit of kissing. A lovely evening. Recharged. And a date planned for July.. (insert Etta James here: )

It helps knowing that there’s a Day.

*nods sagely*

I have the next chapter to The Lake spinning in my head…so we’ll see when that can squeeze out of my fingers so you can enjoy it. 😀