HNT~Something something(two pixs)

After speaking with M the other night, I had to make SURE that I got this posted in a timely fashion. He has this way of tweaking me, you see. He has these damned videos that he took when he let another Dom use me…it was several years ago, but it embarrasses the fuck out of me..aaaannnd…he offered to upload one of them HERE if I couldn’t find a picture.

So fucking helpful, oh yeah.


So here’s a pair of pix to take his mind off that damned video…Both from a playdate a while ago…He says of the first one…”that’s the only time I saw your legs closed the entire day…” *giggle* (truth!)


And the result of some very painfully wonderful tit-caning…



He did it…again.

Fucked me good and proper from afar, oh yes he did. Didn’t even read my post from last night, and still is in my head so deeply that he knew *just* how to fuck with me.

I sent him a text saying how good last night’s O was. And oh my….it was pretty fucking spectacular…all trembling limbs, and sensitive pussy and seeping juices for the entire night. Gotta love an orgasm so hard that you wake in the morning still wet!

His text comes back shortly.


“Oh good. Then you’ll be happy to know that you now are *required* to have two half-o’s EVERY Monday night. Enjoy!”

Oh yeah. I’m ….reallly going to enjoy getting right to the fucking edge…twice…EVERY  Monday night –a full day before my ONE orgasm night….I’ll be horny for HOURS before I can get off…and uncomfortable and thinking about him fucking with me and getting even more horny thinking about those things…

He’s so fucking devious…don’tcha just love a Dom that does that sort of  clever, yet completely mean-assed shit?!


The things he does to me…without a touch of him. No hands, no mouth, no body. We’ve not seen one another in two (long, painful, lonely, frustrating, boring, busy) weeks. I have been sending him lots of little dirty texts.

Because let’s face it….I’m a slut.

And it’s my duty to keep him interested, too. It’s not up purely to HIM to give me all kinds of Domly attention to keep me at my slutty best. No–I have to give something too. And I hadn’t been. I’d been wrapped in vanilla.

But there was this fuck up. (That’s how all the good stories start, right?!)

He’d given me the task, you see. I had to self torture. Self-deny. Self-torment.

A half-O just because he felt like doing me dirty. Giving me a little taste of the mean bastard of a Dom he can be.

The day had been long, busy, exhausting. And this chore (for by now it had assumed the role of “one more fucking thing to do before I fall asleep”) was weighing on me. I was So. Fucking. Tired. My knuckles were nearly dragging on the ground in my exhaustion. And I was going to do it, I was. But it was one of those extremely rare days when the minute my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

Of course I told him about it in the morning. First thing, right away, right after my morning greeting.

He promised he wasn’t mad at me. But also let me know that there would indeed be a penalty to be paid. Not that he didn’t understand the circumstances–but…as he reminded me, there is ALWAYS a price to be paid for not doing as He says.

This gets me hot and bothered. It makes me wet. It makes me feel—wanted. That he cares enough about these tasks that he’ll punish me in some way for NOT doing them. It shows that there is meaning to it all.

That’s weird of me, maybe. But I know a lot of subs who feel the same way. Being used and tasked this way makes us whole. Wholer? It fills a void, gives us purpose. Anyway, I digress. He doesn’t rush into things. He’s not headlong into something then redirecting. He’s VERY direct. VERY careful about what he’s doing and when and how. He’s mindful.

He informs me that night when we chat that I now owe him 6 half-o’s.

Six???!  I squeal. Like…what the fuck??

“The number starts at six. For now.”

I swallow any further protest. He has that tone in his voice that is one of “be wary slut”. You know the voice, I’ll bet. The Hunter. Waiting and watching for a misstep. It makes me shiver to write it…and it makes me wet, too.

I let a moment or three of silence pass.

“Smart slut” he murmurs.


Later, he portions out the O’s. They are to be done at his whim. Two at a time. Several last week…and then a break. He lets me bet on the Pat’s game –and I won. Six Orgasms worth of win, despite the Pat’s sad and sorry loss. (I bet on total game points.)

But last night. Oh that Bastard. It’s Monday, and I’m tired from being up early. And I’m going to bed late and I’ve worked and yada yada.

I get a text before bed.

“Get those last two half-o’s done tonight.”

No excuse…just do it.

So I told him “I thought you forgot about those last two half-o’s”…and he responds, “silly little girl”. That also makes me wet. (What can I say? I’m a slut!)

So I did them. And cursed him. Sent him a series of pissy texts. Including one that said I hoped he got a toe cramp in his sleep. It made him laugh. (We’re weird. We admit it. He likes it when I’m a sassy bitch.)

And tonight, well, it’s MY day. I get a free O. And with six in the bank can take a second one if I want to. And HE says when we finally manage a brief conversation (after DAYS of not hearing each other’s voice)…

“You are primed and ready for your O. You can thank me for that, little girl.”

He’s right, he did prime me.

And anytime he calls me little girl? Well it totally lubes my pump.  😀 Goodnight pervie peeps. I’d write more but I have this thing I’ve got to do….


HNT~A Peek of Flannel

It’s been wicked cold up here in New England this past week. Spoiled by months of unseasonably warm weather, it was shocking to see the mercury drop into those long-forgotten teens and single numbers. And it was time to break out the flannel! Happy HNT, pervies!



Face time Sunday just passed…

His beard, so yummy. His lips, so scrumptious. His hands, so wicked.

A bruise on my side still growing.

Thirty minutes in his car. Just reconnecting.

Our “meeting” anniversary–7 years since He first spanked me, first fucked me, first beat me. A day of near-death (almost being run over by a truck in the parking lot, of all things!) followed by the pure bliss of finding out that this…this thing we do…is as necessary to me as air…that i crave pain, crave submission, crave the harsh touch of His hand as well as the gentle kisses after, or between those times.

Life is better with Him in it.

Petty Thievery

seriously…the places my mind goes in the shower…it’s downright frightening at times…! All to your good, pervie peeps, all to your good. ~nilla~


“You stole from me”

“I…I di..dn’t…Mr. Morgan….” Her response was breathy.

“Stop it. No more lies. I know you stole from me.”

He nodded at the two men who were always in attendance. They took her by her arms, tugging her easily across the room, stopping in front of the built-in television monitor in the wall. Mr. Morgan raised a remote and a black and white picture appeared.  Her breath froze in her throat. There she was, looking stealthily around, then opening his top desk drawer, and removing a bank envelope. She saw herself pull out the bills and count them. Five, there were five of the one-hundred dollar notes. Barely able to tug a breath into her burning lungs, she watched herself  lift the hem of her sweater, and stuff the bills into her lace bra. Her hands quickly put the empty bank envelope back into the drawer, before shutting it. Lastly, she placed the files she’d been told to bring to him on his desk. Taking one last furtive look around, she walked out of the frame.

Oh. My. Gawd. He’d had security cameras in his office the entire time. She was totally fucked. Her heart pounded so hard it was a miracle no one else could hear it. His voice was firm, jolting her out of her frightened reverie.

“You owe me.”

There was no swallowing the huge lump of fear in her throat.

“Hold her.”

In one fluid movement he rose from the chair where he’d perched to watch her watch the video  of her theft. Slowly his hands moved over her, squeezing her tits firmly before sliding his hands up and under her pink camisole. Skin on skin, those fingers searched her bra most carefully.

“I can’t say that your bra is empty, because it’s certainly full of tit, but, alas, no cash here.”

With a suddenness that shocked her, he yanked her skirt up over her hips. Her gasp made him smile, a chilling thing to see. In his smile she saw a glee that frightened her more than any words he might have said. His hands peeled away the thin barrier of her pantyhose, pushed aside the illusion of protection of her panties and roughly searched the hot valley between her legs. His eyes never broke contact, pinning her in place with the fierceness in them as his fingers pressed inside of her.

“Cunt is empy…oops…not now of course….”

Helpless to stop the yips and moans as his fingers dug deeply into her pussy, she shifted, trying to move away, but his men held her tightly while he fingered her. With a sigh, he looked down at her, shaking his head. His hand fell away, and they were gone, those invading digits. She flushed with embarrassment as he wiped the dampness of her pussy on her cheek.

“Check her asshole.”

Hands pushed her over, held her even as she squealed in protest. Thick fingers swirled around her cunt then pressed hard against her anus. She yelped when the first finger entered her, moaned when a second one joined it. Again the pain and embarrassment fought for the lead. She whimpered, shifting, trying to move, trying to stop the invading fingers up her butt. It fucking hurt. It felt like he was sticking his whole hand up there. It felt like he was going to explore every inch of her bowels. The fingers thrust and twisted, and she moaned and whined. A quick slap to her cheek and a ‘hush your mouth’ didn’t stop her from trying to ease her ass away from the assaulting hand. At long last they pulled out, leaving her feeling intensely relieved.

“Nothin’ in there but shit,” came the deep voice of one of them, then came the feeling and scent of poop being wiped across her ass.

“You owe me restitution.”

Abruptly she was pulled upright. A fist held her head up, looking right into those dangerous smiling eyes once again.

“I…” She started to speak. “oooh” she moaned as the fingers tightened painfully against her scalp.

“Shut up. You need to listen now, and understand the consequences of your actions. I could call the police. Have you arrested. Yet your work here is above par, and frankly, you’re stunning to look at. And yet, I cannot have a petty thief walking around unchecked. But I have a solution. I shall have your work off this debt you have created. Come with me.”

A hard shove and she was free, walking behind her boss, while being trailed by his two thugs. They moved to a door in the wall, thankfully not out to the outer office. She tugged her pantyhose up, her skirt down as they walked through the door and into a capacious bathroom.

“This is the executive bathroom. Where you will spend several hours a day, servicing upper management. There, I think.”

He pointed to a corner near the sink. A heavy leather chair was there, a small table beside it. A series of grab bars on the walls caught her eye.


She shook her head, backing away, bumping into the two men she’d somehow forgotten were there.

“Strip. Or should my men ‘help’ you?”

The sound of cracking knuckles came from behind her. She slipped her camisole over her head.

“The bra, pretty as it is, must also go.”

There was that lump in her throat again. It got bigger as she slid down each strap, delaying the inevitable baring of her breasts.

“Help her.”

The clasp was released; her tits fell free as the bra slipped to the floor. Her wrists were held behind her now, and she felt the kiss of cold steel. The bastard had handcuffed her!

“Consider this ‘house arrest’ during your working break. You owe me $500. You’ll pay that back to me by helping my management team relieve their stress, pay with that lovely body.”

As he spoke her skirt fell to the floor over her bra. In moments her hose was tugged down, her panties ripped away. A pad was thrown on the floor by thug number two; she was pushed across the room and made to kneel upon it.

“Blowjobs will be your number one function, but your pussy, ass, and mouth will all be mine until your debt is paid.”

There was a pause as he drank in the fear on her face.

“And at .50 cents per service ‘visit’…it will take you some time to pay your debt–with interest–in full.”

He strolled away, smiling at the look of horror on her face.  Pausing in the doorway, he looked back at her, at his two men who had remained behind.

“Looks like you’re about to earn your first dollar.”

The sound of releasing zippers and belts echoed in the marble-walled room as he closed the door behind him.





Well holy fucking hell…that was a shit storm of a week. But it’s behind me now, and on my way home from work tonight, while we were chatting on my drive,  Master pulled some Dom out of his pocket and shook me into a good and proper submissive mindset. Mmmm…I really needed that!

And I’m a day late on HNT (never even turned my computer on yesterday…not even for facebook time!)…so here it is, half-nekkid Friday….

Happy Weekend, Pervie Peeps!


A work in progress…

…really. I’m writing in odd little bits and bobs of time. It’s mean and nasty and dark and dirty and …


part of why I have to write in short bursts is timing…but the other part is that it is a story that is a deeeeeep fantasy of mine and I get so fucking turned on by it and no Orgasm allowed until tomorrow…so I have to stop before I get too excited.

Yeah,  I know. It’s funny, and lame, and demented, all at the same time.

It’s also the truth.

So hopefully…with an O in the offing for tomorrow, I’ll finish this nasty little tale for all you pervies…and get some relief afterwards. 😀


nighty night, pervs.

Fat (4)

Twenty-two minutes.” He paused, looking at her. “That’s how long you’ve been in here, and most of that taken up with your little snit about your size. I don’t expect to revisit this, understood? I like you for who you are and what you are and your size doesn’t change that at all. I expect you to think long and hard as to whether you can continue with me knowing this. If you cannot, then fix yourself, and go back to your office.”

He walked across the room after her capitulation, after his pronouncement, just left her standing there.  She spent a moment just looking at him.  At his desk, back to her, he was getting something from his cabinet. Maybe it was a gag, to shut her up after her ranting. Taking a steadying breath, then another, she tried to not let embarrassment back in. She stood where he had left her, uncertain of where things would go from here, but knowing that she was not going to walk away from something that she found, embarrassing outburst aside, extremely exciting.

“You know,” he said over his shoulder, “I’d have every right to punish you for your…snarky attitude. Not to mention poking me that way.” Turning back to her and crossing the room, he rubbed his hand under his tie, over his chest.

“That really hurt me, you know.”

She stared at her fingernails, bright candy pink, but not so long that they should have hurt him that much. His laugh caused her to look up at him. And frown as he smirked at her.

“As if.” For just a second he looked at her, and she was sure that she read something there, some happiness that she had stayed, hadn’t let her hang-up walk her capacious ass out the door. His voice was very soft, very gentle as he spoke again.

“I’m glad you stayed.”

He took his other hand from his side. What she saw in his hand belied the gentleness of his tone. Lifting  the ruler, gesturing toward her, he smiled a smile that could only be termed ‘sadistic’.  Her eyes widened when he issued his next command, the voice no longer soft and gentle, but firm.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Her eyes widened even further, as she paused. The look on his face, that “Dom look” was challenging her to be disobedient. Daring her had only ever made her made her reckless. She straightened her spine, stuck out her tongue, not a little impudently, waggled it at him.

“That little muscle almost landed you in a boatload of trouble.”

Surprisingly, he did not smack her with the ruler, but rather pulled a clothes pin from his pocket, quickly clipping it on the end of her waggling tongue-tip.

“OUTH!”  she yelped. Man that fucking hurt! she thought. Tears rose as he struck the clothes pin with the ruler, a series of tap tap tapping that had her struggling to hold still, keep her place. One last hard thwack made the tears slip down her cheeks. He caught them on his fingers, rubbing them  dry on the crotch of her panties.

“Mustn’t get tear-drops on your pretty blouse. I’m sure your cohorts would love to see that I made you cry, but you’re made of stronger stuff than they would ever imagine.”

Removing the clothespin, he smiled as he put it back in his pocket.

“I wonder if it would make you cry–or moan–if I stuck that on your clit?”

He patted his pocket where the small but effective torture device now rested. Not sure on whether he expected a response, she sucked her tongue back into her mouth and hid it behind her teeth. The tip throbbed, but set up a response in her pussy that was undeniable.

“On your knees. We haven’t much time left.”

Obedient now, her head in submissive mode, she moved to her knees.

“Open your mouth and stick out that sassy tongue of yours.”

He moved to straddle her, pulling his belt from his pants, tugging the trousers down.

“There best not be any cum stains on my new pants,” he said sternly, but his eyes were crinkling at the corners, a sign of amusement, she’d learned.

“Don’t worry Sir, I enjoy swallowing,” she purred. He didn’t respond to her other than a quiet humming sound. His cock was still turgid, despite the little episode of attitude adjustment. Oh, she was so going to enjoy this!

“Keep your mouth open, curl your tongue.”

Tongue-tip throbbing, thrusting between her open lips, she waited. Yet instead of  the task she had been longing for, he instead slapped his cock onto her tongue. The slap was quite firm, squishing that tender bit of flesh and muscle against her teeth. Though it felt like her teeth would cut into the underside of her tongue, still, she didn’t move, only letting a small moan break free. Again the thick meat of him slapped on her outthrust tongue, again she breathed through the pain. He left his cock this time, left it resting there. The tip rested just inside her mouth, she could breath the sweaty, faint urine scent of man-shaft.

“Look at me. Don’t move.”

His hands grasped her hair as he slid his heavy rod deeper into her mouth. She prayed that she wouldn’t gag, but she did anyway. His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her there. Tears formed in her eyes, her throat jack-hammered visciously as her stomach clenched.

“mmmmm, yessssss…”

Right on the cusp of heaving, he released her, withdrew. She had a moment to catch her breath, to swallow, before he grasped her hair and began to fuck her mouth in earnest. This wasn’t a blowjob, she realized, but a taking, a near-rape, albeit willingly offered, of her mouth. Relax, she ordered herself, breathing from her nose, fighting the urge to gag. Yet gag she did, and each time her throat clutched, he would moan.

“Suck,” he ordered, holding still, his hand grasping the base of his cock. She sucked. Seconds later, he groaned, and the salty-sweet taste of his come frosted her tongue.

His hand stroked her head.

“Good girl. Now, put yourself together, we have work to attend to.”

Put herself together, that was a good one, she thought, trying to switch gears as she tugged her skirt down, adjusted her blouse. Still tasting him in her mouth, she rose and crossed the room to his desk.