another quickie…with thanks to Ancient Owner for the picture which grew this idea…

“You may come at any time–as many times as you like, pet.”

Against her ear, the heat of his breath tickled. There was a faint click, the warmth of him behind her, then the low and steady purr of the Hitachi. He tugged off the blindfold, then moved across the room to his chair. A glass of wine in hand, he sat, crossing one leg over the other, and watched her.

Tied to the chair, legs spread wide, she’d expected him to mount the big vibe, press it hard against her. He enjoyed confusing her, enjoyed teasing her. She hadn’t come in a week. Her desperation for an orgasm made her forget, for a moment, the sadist who lurked within the veneer of civility. To her confusion, he’d tied the Hitachi so that it hung down from the hook in the ceiling. It rested just at her pussy–just a whisper of touch against her yearning cunt.

Arching her back only bumped it, moved it away, set it to swinging and wobbling. The vibe hit her clit, making her moan, but there was never enough pressure to push her over the edge.

Whining, frustrated, she mewed around the gag, a long tendril of saliva trailing from the corner of her mouth to her tit, then down to her writhing belly. She threw a fulminating glare towards where he sat.

He lifted his glass in a silent toast, and smiling, sipped.

Stats ‘n Stuff

You know, I’ve been writing this here blog for a long while now…hardly seems like I’m the same fear-filled, desperate and sad woman who started it in a fit of pique over my “real” life. How things have changed.

It helped me immeasurably to have this outlet–to write and share my naughty fantasies, from rotten mechanics to outdoor sex camps to octopii tales. We all are sick fucks, in our way…and coming to accept that about myself was not only cathartic…but freeing.

Hi, my name is nilla and I’m a sick fuck.


Yeah. Say it to yourself a few times. No, not *my* name, silly! Use YOUR  name. At first it’s a delicious and naughty thrill, isn’t it? And then it’s worrisome. And then (provided you’re not using your pervies to plan on harming someone who is NOT in the lifestyle, who is NOT giving consent) you come to that place in your head where you nod sagely and go, yeah. okay, I’m a sick fuck, but that’s okay.

Because everyone has fantasies. Ours are just of a somewhat (okay, a lot of) perverted  nature, that’s all. In my real life, I’m a wife and mother and employee and employer and a hard worker and and and. But in my head? I’m always looking at things and making up stories about “what if” and “oh boy wouldn’t that be sexy and naughty” and…well, you know…

And I’ve written a TON of posts over these last 5 1/2 years. I’d say about 10% of them are like this…my sitting with a cuppa and chatting with you. But thus far I’ve committed more than 1930 pieces on this blog, which is a pretty big  chunk of words, really, and doesn’t take into account any of my forays into other blogs that I’ve written. (The only active one now is Dark Fantasies, and that only gets a few stories a month if I’m lucky.)

So — I kind of have a feel for what stories you all are drawn to. Some peeps read both active blogs, some read only here, and some only read DF. I know a lot of you, despite being pervie peeps, are here to enjoy my favorite writing, Happy Ever After’s. (My favorite to write, too!)

I can look back at my stats and see which stories are still hanging with people. I love that about WordPress–stats are there for every single thing I write. But here’s the thing…there’s this ONE story that I wrote early on in the blog. February of 2010, to be exact.

This story still gets at least ONE hit–every single day.


EVERY SINGLE DAY. For over 5 years now. This story has more hits than any other thing I’ve ever written. If this is YOUR doing, then thank you. I don’t know if it’s the same person or not, and I really don’t mind if it is or isnt’. I just find it fascinating that this one simple little tale has garnered that sort of loyalty. Thank you pervie peep (or peeps), for making Octopus Vulgaris your number one nilla tale.

So…how are *you* doing, peeps? I hate to say it, but it is supposed to snow here again tomorrow. I’m inured to caring. We had intense fog yesterday and fog eats snow. I’ve finally seen the grass in my backyard for the first time in two months. My front yard is nearly bare. My crocii are poking up. There is hope on the horizon, folks, that spring will indeed come to New England this year.

Or so “they” say.

(My allergies say it is coming…!)

Well, peeps, my teacup is empty, and I need a shower. It’s time to get my day back on track. Next week I’ll have more time to write, this one was surprisingly busy. I like busy, it makes the days go by until spring arrives.  I’m so anxious to get windows open and air out the house. It might be warm enough to do that for a few hours next week. Cross your fingers.

Have a perfectly pervy weekend, peeps!


(Taking a short break between story chapters…my goodness I’ve been having some wild sex dreams lately! Needed to capture this before I forgot it! ~nilla~)

Her head was pulled back, the angle uncomfortable but bearable. From here she could see the rails that ran around the four-poster bed, admire the strong screws holding them securely. Which held her securely.

He pushed her leg back, moving the knotted loop closer towards the top of the bed. A soft hmmmm of nervous anticipation sang from her throat.

“Shush,” she heard him murmur through the fog of lust. Her other leg was similarly treated, pushed forward like the other, until she could clearly see the neon pink of her toenails. She could also see the white rope that he had wrapped tightly around her ankles, and the  loop of rope snaked up and over the rails. Her legs hung like a curtain, splayed open, unable to close, unable to move.  What a picture she must make to him, the still-rational part of her mind thought. Her cunt and ass were open, available, exposed. She was totally accessible for anything he wanted to do to her. Her head was pulled back, ponytail hidden under her and tied securely to the end of the anal hook. He’d taken great pleasure in inserting that fucking huge ball  into her ass. Any movement of her head, her body, made the ball at the end of the hook move inside of her. Though she’d expected, after that rough insertion, for there to be deep pain, it turned out not to be the case. Far from painful (aside from the stretching of her asshole when she moved), it was incredibly erotic. She was so turned on. If he touched her anywhere, she would cum.

The bed moved just a bit as he moved over the mattress around her. A sharp pain against her thigh made her jolt. His teeth nipped again, working up towards the back of her knee. She giggled and snorted and moaned, trying to keep as still as possible as he tormented her. It hurt, those nips, but it also was the meanest of torture. She was so fucking ticklish.

His head eventually settled between her thighs, his beard tickling along her slit.

“Smells hot here. There’s all this wetness here. Wonder where that’s coming from?”

His face pressed hard into her crotch, as he blew and snorted and ticked her with lips, tongue, and teeth. She laughed, squealed, wriggled, moving the big silver ball in her bum.

“I can’t find it. Maybe here?”

Lips clamped over her clit, sucking hard. Moans became whimpers as he continued to suck. It felt so fucking good. It hurt a bit too. She yelped when his teeth closed over the tender and swollen flesh.


The pain was the catalyst for an orgasm. As the peak caught her, his fingers slid inside as if trying to tug  another orgasm out of her body. They curled and dove, twisting and teasing her. He was driving her mad with the frenzy of orgasms. Her pussy ached, throbbed from his unceasing attention. Sensitive, she thought she moaned to him, but he never did stop. At long last, the time hazy and fragmented, his lips moved away, his tongue lapping at her juiced up slit, and she slid under the dark.

The ripple of an aftershock caught her. She roused, groggy from sensual overload.  Her moan was captured in his mouth. She wondered when he had moved. He covered her, his body warm and firm over hers. She tasted herself on his tongue as he pillaged her mouth as he had her cunt. She whimpered as his cock filled her, rubbing deeply her tender inner flesh. She hurt,she ached for him. For more. For less. For him to stop. For him to never stop. The aftershock flowed into another spasm. He filled her so tightly, the rub of his shaft against the fat ball in her butt drew new sensations from her. She was bound, helpless to do anything other than submit, to be given orgasm after orgasm, and to take all that he gave. His big hands captured her tits as he nestled into the cocoon of her body. Using her tits for leverage, he fucked her hard, fucked her deep. She came, came again, near to fainting with the continual assault of pleasure.

He grunted, squeezing hard, his mouth suddenly brutal on hers, biting her lips, sucking her tongue. Her bottom lip swelled as he bit then sucked it; she tasted the copper tang of blood.

His hips ground into her, his cock fully buried in her twitching with his driving need to be deeper. Her cunt grabbed at his shaft, her body convulsed in a huge and explosive orgasm. Twitching, moaning, grunting, the two ground against each other, animals in mating mode. His hand slapping her cheek, her tit, her hip. His demand to come again as his cock swelled, as he began to pump his juice deep into her belly was answered by her growling acquiescence, by the shivers and convulsions of her cunt as her sex honey coated him.

Drained, used, utterly exhausted, they slept.

Just How Many Tit Pictures Can There Be? HNT

Sometimes I forget that Master is a tit guy. Like…a *wicked* tit guy. So I forget to send Him pictures unless He says something that jostles my memory, teases me, or flat out demands one.

It was a silly conversation about an outfit that I asked for permission to purchase that spawned this shot. The outfit was *gorgeous*…but though it fit lovely through the waist and hips, it was WAAAY fucking HUGE on the cups. I’m sure there are those of you out there with capatious enough boobage to fit…but mine looked totally shrunken and tiny flopping around in that too-large top. I sent it back, and told Him about it, because, you know, getting Him to allow me to buy new sexy things is a major coup…and to have to send it back? (I tried to convince Him that a $130 dildo was a great idea. He told me if I spent that much money to stuff something in my holes that HE’d stuff something up my ass so big that I wouldn’t sit right for a month. {not sure why that amuses me but I’m perverse that way}) Yeah, sending it back was WAY frustrating!

So He started sending me texts about my “teeny tits”. It was funny and embarrassing. So I had to respond. Not with words. No, that never gets me anywhere. But this did:


“Oh…okay,” He replied when I sent this. “phew.”

Bound to Serve (3)

Her moans were like arrows of lust. His cock was so hard He wondered if He would be able to lower the fly of His jeans without nicking flesh. Pressing the metal plug into her asshole he watched the rosy-brown sphincter slowly yield to the steady pressure.  The puckery flesh was stretching, stretching; the silver bulb  was swallowed by the inner pink of her rectum.

Head crooked to the side as the plug slid home, He could watch the slick pink lips of her cunt quiver. The scent from her was heady, musky lust. Turning the handle of the anal plug, drawing whimpers from her as He tugged and pushed it, made His cock throb. With a hard slap to her ass, He rose and stripped.

Head down on the bed, hands tied to her thighs, her ass was raised for His pillaging. The anal plug was cold, hatefully cold. Yet her pussy throbbed when it was fully seated in her butt. Though she whined when He played with the plug, it hit all the interesting places inside of her. The need to cum grew, as did the ache in her stretched hole. Such a dichotomy, loving and hating anal.

His hand reached between her thighs, finding her tit and tugging the nipple. Small elastics had been wrapped around them, the pain an insidious burn that grew slowly, until it would become an incredible pain.

Her tits were so tender already.

Fingers tugged one pain-wracked nipple, then the other. She yelped into the mattress, which only inspired Him to pinch and twist them more.

“Does that hurt, little girl?”

Her head lifted fractionally off the bed as she panted out a raspy-voiced “yes, YES, Sir! Hurts!”


He pinched again as her head fell back to the bed, as her moans became tears. If she could have crawled away, she would have, but the spreader bar that He’d affixed to the front of her thighs prevented that motion. She was open, accessible, immobile.

And so fucking turned on.

Hot steely cock slid into her sheath. The heat of her made Him moan. The hard thickness of His cock made her groan. He was buried, balls deep in a heartbeat. The turgid shaft filled her. The bulb of the plug in her ass rubbed Him as He slid deep, massaging Him even as her cunt clamped and clenched on Him. She’d been hornier, needier, greedier for sex and pain since the day he’d found the blue plus sign on His plate.

The combination was an erotic and emotional overload.

He had a fuck-crazed wife. And His baby in her belly.

Rocking gently at first, He moved His hips in gentle circles, not fucking, just teasing her. Grunts became whines as she tried to pull away or push back.

“Little girl need something?”

“Fuck me you Bastard!”

“Such a dirty mouth you have, slut.”

“PLEASE, fuck me you teasing ASSHOLE.”

“Oh, asshole, did you say?”

He tugged the plug, until it was half-in, half-out of her anus. He could see the taut stretch, feel the quiver in her pussy.

“OW! OW that hurts…Please?…Please Sir…”

He pulled it a moment longer, slowly, slowly allowing the plug to slide free, her puckered hole to start to close. Then, feeling her relief as a palpable thing, he renewed the torment, and shoved it hard into her ass.

When she reared, her back arching, He saw the invitation there, the ‘come-fuck-me’ of her body. The curl of spine, the tilt of hip, the sucking of her cuntlips against His groin; all spoke one word to Him: FUCK!

He obliged, releasing the plug and grabbing her hips. He tugged her back, shoving her against His belly, His balls swinging with the vigor of His movements. Pulling back, He slammed forward again, His cock parting her wet chasm, spearing her in the most primal way. Head down, ass up, offering submission and body, He took until, shaking, He spurted His semen deep inside her.


Her nipples were still ruddy, bruised from the elastics, and the vigorous sucking He’d done before they were released. How she’d screetched at that, her nipples on fire with pain, as He suckled. He drank in her expressions, the pain, the tears. He loved watching her in pain, just as much as He loved watching her now in sleep. Freed from His ropes, exhausted from orgasms, she slept deeply. Tracing His finger over that one pert nipple, He reached down and tugged up the blankets. Wrapping her in His arms, they slept.

Bound to Serve (2)

Work had been crazy for both of them for several weeks. The flu ran rampant through their jobs, creating a backlog of “things to be done”. At the end of every day they shared a quick meal, a bit of tv time, or sometimes, just fell into bed with one another. Each day blurred into the next. Weekends were spent attending to the chores that rarely got done.

“In the spring we’ll have more time,” He promised.

“I know. I just…”

“I know.” He pinched her nipples as the tv blasted yet another commercial. She whimpered, wriggling against Him. Yet they were too tired to do more than that. Another night, another day passed. She was antsy. She was trying to not be mad. But they were a 24/7 D/s couple.

Except–without the D or the s.

The clench in her belly hit her as she hung up the phone. She leapt from her desk, bolting to the ladies room, where she barely made it to the toilet.

“Lily? Are you okay?”

Crystal, her friend came into the room, having noted the mad dash. The sound of wretching came from the middle stall.

“uhm…obviously not. Should I call Craig for you, ask him to pick you up?”

There was a cough, and a weak ‘no’. The toilet flushed and a moment later she emerged. Moving to the sink, she splashed water on her face, rinsed her mouth.

“I can’t believe the crud got me. I’ve washed my hands a gazillion times, taken my vitamins-”

“Well, you know almost everyone’s had something. You’ve been healthy as an ox. So…I guess it’s your turn. Do you need me to drive you home?”

“No, I’m okay. Kind of. Queasy, but I think it’s fading.”

“It comes in waves,” Crystal warned. “Get home and get to bed. Trust me–you’ll spend the next 24 hours in bed wishing you would just die and get it over with…and then you’ll wake up and be totally fine. It’s weird.”


She napped, though she rarely did that. When she woke, she was fine. No tummy ache–in fact, she was starving. Ravenous, even. Rising from the bed she noted it was only just past noon. Lunch time. Might as well see what she could eat and keep inside her belly.


“I’m fine. Really.”

He placed His hand on her forehead, but there was no fever. She looked wonderful, actually.

“But you puked.”

“I did. It was gross. But I must have …uhm…thrown it off.”

“or up.”

She laughed. They shared the same strange sense of humor.

“Since we have this extra time…” she said, tugging down the lacy front of her nightgown.

“No. You rest. And I don’t want the pukies.”

“What about ‘in sickness and in health’?” she asked, pouting a little bit.

“I still love you. I’m just not touching any body fluids until I know you’re well and I won’t get it. Because you know…if I puke, you  clean it up.”

“That’s gross.”

“I know. I like it.”

She forgot, sometimes, that this too was part of their dynamic. Dammit. With a sigh she flopped back to her side of the bed. She definitely didn’t want to get Him sick now.


She went to work, feeling fine. At 930 she was back in the middle stall again, heaving up her breakfast. Once again Crystal followed her into the bathroom. Observing her pale face, she leaned back against the sink.

“Honey…are you….pregnant?”

Lily blinked. No.


“Well…I don’t know.”

She paused, thinking, feeling stupified by the whole upchuck experience, and the blindside of maybe being pregnant.


She turned to look at her friend.

“Drugstore run at lunch. Don’t say a word to anyone.”

“Promise. Cross my heart. Pinkie swear.”

Crystal held out her pinkie, crooked and ready to recieve Lilly’s pinkie. They hooked their baby fingers together, nodded, shook hands, and then snapped their hands apart. They’d been pinky swearing together for years; it was the utmost of promises.


She left work early. It was the first time in forever. She was naked but for the outfit He loved best, tiny wisps of lace covering her nipples, her crotch. The stiletto’s were red tonight. She wore her matching red patent leather collar. The table was set, dinner was almost ready.

Hearing His car in the drive, she moved into the position He loved best. Her face low, forehead to the floor to offer her submission. Her ass and pussy were raised to offer her body. She breathed slowly and steadily to control her excitement as she heard the sound of His footsteps on the porch.

He opened the door, held it wide as he paused to take in the scene. A trail of posty notes circled her, with arrows pointing. He closed the door, setting His briefcase by it, hanging His keys. He shrugged out of His coat, hanging it neatly away in the closet. He smacked her ass, the red print rising against the pale skin.

He wanted to fuck her, right there, but the notes piqued his curiosity. It had been a long while since they’d played, had anything more than vanilla sex. Which was fine, as far as it went. But it didn’t fill either of their deepest needs for very long. Just for the hell of it, He paused to smack her other butt cheek. Might as well match.

He moved through the house. She’d been creative. A whip was left on the back doorknob, a buttplug in the doorway to the cellar. Oh yes, her needs were piqued too. The trail led to the dining room. Her cuffs were there beside His fork. He moved closer, then froze.

In the middle of the charger was a small china plate of pure white. In the middle of that was a plastic wand.

In the middle of that was a blue plus sign.


Bound to Serve (1)

She checked one last time to make sure all was in place before His arrival back home. They didn’t always have the time for this, but when it was possible, she made it happen. Imagining the pleasure on His face, she quickly moved to the front door as she heard His car turn into the driveway. Dressed as He preferred – black wisps of lace covering tits and pussy, shiny black stiletto’s on her feet- she moved into position. Head down, offering her submission. Ass and pussy up, offering her body. Her arms  stretched back along her sides, ready to open herself for His pleasure. She quivered in anticipation. His shoe scuffed the steps, His footfalls sounded on the front porch, His key slid into the lock. The door opened, and if she’d had the daring to look at Him, she would have seen Him pause and smile. He stood with the door opened wide, as if inviting the world to see what she was offering to Him. It always made her shiver with embarrassment. Not that many people traveled down their cul-de-sac but the possibility was there…and didn’t that make it all the more naughty? After an eternity, the door shut, the lock was turned.

She scarcely could breathe through her own excitement. She didn’t know what He would say. Didn’t know what He would do. The anticipation made her wet.

He said nothing as He hung up His keys, placed His briefcase on the floor by the door, nor as He slid His coat onto a hanger and placed it into the closet. He slipped off His work shoes, and while she might have hoped for a quick swipe of one across her waiting bottom, she heard His feet going up the stairs.

She would wait, then. The anticipation continued to grow as the floor in the playroom creaked over her head. Not knowing what He was doing, yet knowing He was planning something only served to make her pussy even wetter.


He came downstairs and moved to stand behind her. Something cool tickled along the small of her back, and she knew what it was immediately.

The short whip.

In quick succession, he flogged along her bottom, nicely raised for His pleasure. Small grunts and moans came from her, spurring His hand to move faster, making his cock begin to swell.

“Open,” He spoke tersely.

Obediently, her hands slid behind her, grabbing her ass and opening her most private parts to Him. The short whip snapped along her split, striking her anus several times before He changed the angle and hit her pussy. Her breath came in short pants, the pain mingling with excitement. He turned the angle again, striking up the arms that held her ass open. He watched the trembling of her body, loving the bloom of welts and red appearing on her skin.

The sound of the stove timer interrupted Him as he lashed His way down her thighs.

For a moment He said nothing, His hands moving over the hot flesh of her bottom. One fingertip traced along the reddened cleft, pausing a moment to push against her now swollen anus.

“I’m going to enjoy fucking that.”

He stepped away. Moments later she heard him turn on the water in the kitchen and the accompanying splashing of hand-washing.


She rose, somewhat unsteady with the desire running rampant. Her bottom ached, her pussy ached, her nipples were hard nuggets. All sent messages of need to her clit. Moving to the sink, she too washed her hands, before moving about the kitchen to finish preparing His meal. He was already sitting at the table, waiting. Quickly she prepared His plate, poured His wine. Taking up the tray, she carried it so that her tits would be displayed as well. She smiled coyly to herself. Two could play the tantalize game, after all.

Setting the tray on the dining room table, she set his wine down, pausing a moment to fiddle with the place setting. Her breast was right by His head, the hard nipple poking through the silk in invitation. She lifted the plate and put it carefully in front of him, the breast now all but in his face. His hand lifted from the table and hooked in her bra.

“Teasing your Dom is a dangerous game, little one. I could push you right down, right here and fuck you.”

“I’m sure my Master wouldn’t want to let His roast go to waste,” she teased.

“I’d just eat it off your belly when I was done fucking your asshole,” He said, in the same light tone. She cleared her throat, the sudden image of mashed potatoes and meat stuck on her, His mouth working on her belly stabbed a shock of raw lust straight up her cunt.

She couldn’t straighten with His finger holding her in place by her bra. Not daring to meet His eyes, she stayed.

“Under the table, slut,” He said, pinching one nipple hard enough to make her gasp.

He didn’t offer His cock to her, which made the wait underneath interminable. At long last He slid the plate to the floor beside Him.

“Eat, slut.”

He’d cut the small bit of meat into tiny pieces, left a dash of potato. While she lapped at the meal, thanking Him after each bite, His fingers scraped over her hips, her bottom, her lower back. His nails were short, but firm, as He scored long scratches over her. She chewed, whimpering when He crossed a welt from His earlier beating.

Before she could finish, He bent and removed the plate.

“That’s sufficient. Come.”

Obediently she followed Him, her heart thrilling as He led her downstairs, to the dungeon, rather than the more tame upstairs playroom.


The rope was tight. Her breasts ballooned out, turning a turgid shade of purple, her nipples throbbed under the heavy clamps. His beast was running rampant tonight. He’d paddled her, caned her thighs, brought her to tears, and kept her on the edge of an orgasm for ever.

But He had yet to fuck her.

Her throat was wrapped in a tight collar of His crafting, her arms stretched ahead of her. Her legs were kept open, secured to a homemade spreader bar. Her hips were supported by the  short rough table He’d crafted with His own hands, leaving her tits to hang free. She wore nothing but the rope–and a coat of sweat.

A cold splash hit her asscrack, and she whimpered.

“Shut up.”

The tone was amused. He kept the lube in the downstairs fridge just to torture her. He kept the anal plugs in the freezer for the same reason. She felt a hard sting and jolted.

“OW!” she yelped as it happened again.

“I saw this on the internet. Someone did it to their slut’s tits, but I figured it would work on your asshole.”

“What–OUCH!–the hell is that…Master…” she gasped as several more snaps hit the center of her puckered anus.

“Elastic bands. Those big ones you brought home from the office? Perfect for this.”

He used it again all around her ass, the quick sting surprisingly painful. He moved to the front, snapped her forearm, laughing as she yelped, before attacking her tits. Her ‘oh fucks!’ made Him grin as He hit one tit, then the other. He was hard as a fucking rock, the need to fuck her warring with the need to continue the rough play. Releasing her tits from the tight bondage, and taking up His short crop, He enjoyed watching the pain dance across her face. Swatting her boobs, watching the color change from purple to deep ruddy red as the blood returned, His excitement grew. Yet He carefully returned the crop to its proper place before moving behind her.

The slick trail of lube glistened in the gap of her ass. His cock pressed against the swollen hole there. Her whimpers only fed the desire to take more from her. His hand snagged in her hair, pulling her head back.

“Let me fucking in,” He growled. She pushed as if having a poop, and He pressed. Her anus was swollen, the thick tightness grabbing His cock tightly. So fucking tight, So fucking hot.

It had never felt this intense. The intrusion of His cock in her bum always made her cringe. It hurt. It really hurt. But it felt so amazing too.

“Sir, I need to cum!” She begged, the need sudden, hot and urgent.

“Let that little cunt of yours go!”

He slapped her hips as He fucked her ass. Her fingers clenched, her head pulled back by her hair, she screamed as the orgasm shuddered through her. With every thrust through her sore asshole, she cried out.


“Oh, hurts!”

“I fucking love it when it hurts,” His growl shivered along her skin, turning her on. How she loved when He just took. When He used her as she wanted, needed Him to use her. How it fed her.


He pulled away from her, His rigid shaft bobbing. The need to cum made His balls ache. His hands made quick work releasing her. With a fistful of hair, He all but threw her onto the big table. Her wrists were secured in the cuffs mounted at the corners. Tugging her hips, He positioned her so that her cunt was right at the edge, almost hanging off. He pressed her knees up, wrapping rope in a quick tie. He called it the Chicken Wing, which amused them both. Threading a last line around the wrap, up and through the bindings, He tugged her knee to the side, securing it with a carabiner. Her other leg was also wrapped, pulled open, secured.

Her pussy was exposed, all the folds and secret places revealed. Red and swollen from being beaten, teased, and tormented, her juices glistened in a steady ooze from the hole that beckoned His cock. Her clit jutted, erect and prominent.

She arched and moaned as His mouth landed on her. His lips sucked on her clit, His fingers slipping easily inside of her. He’d given open permission to cum, which meant that He was going to torture her with many orgasms. She came as His teeth worried at her clit, kept coming as His fingers played along all the sensitive places He knew would unglue her. Her clit was on fire, sensitive and tender, yet still His mouth suckled. Her cries of pleasure became groans of agony as He continued.

He rose, smiling at her. Eyes closed, head back, her body shivered and shook from the paroxysms He’d created. Using pleasure as torture was a favorite game. But now His cock needed release.  With a single thrust He was inside of her, her cunt clenching around Him. She was slick with juice, and hot, so fucking hot. The primal urge to take beat in Him. Fingers digging into her hips, His cock hammered into her. If she came once or a hundred times, He didn’t know, didn’t care. The curve of her body, the marks He’d laid upon her glowing, her tits bobbling from the force of His driving need–all combined to set fire to the Beast that exploded as the reins of civility fell away.

He took. He ravaged. He ground into her, His cock screwing deep into her belly. Her body welcomed each thrust, grabbing His shaft as if trying to keep Him inside of her forever. When His balls tightened, when His semen exploded in raw pulses, He was drained, exhausted. For a moment, He rested there upon her, His head between her tits. Her heart raced under His ear. His cock, now as sensitive as her clit, slowly shrank, withdrawing with reluctance from the hot warm cave it was nestled in. With a deep breath, He rose, and set about releasing her.

It was time for bed. Cradling her, He carried her upstairs, and together they fell into a deep and restful sleep.

Still here…kinda…

That fucking time change thing…it grabbed me by the ass and whacked me around (think cartoon character here, folks!)…I’ve finally turned the corner, I think, and have started sleeping again…you know, it really helps to get a good rest.

My outlook has been dour, my mood has been sour, my everything has just been ‘off’…and while a blog can be a good format for venting…there wasn’t any one thing to vent about.

But with any luck, M and I will be meeting soon…and a good spanking will cure a lot of ills, don’t you find? It will calm the raving bitchies in my head, make me cry out my frustrations, smooth me over while he bangs me butt…

Much to look forward to…