She absolutely should not have done it. Sitting alone in her office at lunch, too busy to take her full hour, she broke long enough to gobble her sandwich and read a quick story on her phone. So, she had a thing for Monstererotica…mostly being fucked by an octopus. Today’s sordid tale had a slightly different take on the process, but holy fuck it had her juices flowing.
She’d shut down the phone when the timer beeped, and made a quick run to the ladies room to pee before settling into work mode once more. Always the overachiever, the clock ran well past 5:00 p.m. before she surfaced. She hated to admit it but that story had kept pushing its way into her mind through the afternoon. So horny that she wondered if she’d come close to starting her period, she discretely slipped her hand into her pants to check. Oh, it was wet there, but it wasn’t period blood. It was pure “horny juice”. She looked out the window. No cars were in the lot on her side of the building. She noted that it was bumping past 6 now, but to be sure, she rose from behind her desk and crossed the room. Peering out from her office made her feel sneaky. It made her feel horny, too. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being ‘bad’ for feeling good, she mused. A quick look up and down the hallway confirmed that all the other offices here were empty, lights out and doors closed. Pushing her door shut behind her, she quickly crossed to her desk. She didn’t notice that the door didn’t quite latch, and the gentle momentum of the tongue slipping off the edge of the latch propelled the door gently back open.
Quickly she unzipped her pants, and slid her fingers under the waistband of her panties. She imagined the tentacle-beast-plant latching onto her nipples, like in the story, of the inability to fight it, to move away, as it impaled her. Her head fell back, her fingers slid deeper.
Gods she was soooo turned on!
She came with a quick release, a nearly silent sighing “ohhhh” as her body spasmed out the welcomed relief. Eyes closed, she smiled, slipping her fingers free. Her heart raced as something hot and wet closed over her fingers even as her wrist was grabbed and lifted.
“Wwhaaa…” she yelped, then squirmed in embarrassment.
His mouth slipped from her fingers.
“Or should I say, what a lovely taste, after a rare and lovely show? One rarely sees a woman absorbed so totally absorbed in self-pleasure and after all these years, I must say I’ve never seen it at the office.”
She looked into the dark eyes of the CFO. Amos was in Chicago. How could he be here, now?
“I thought you were in Chicago,” she said, feeling thick with confusion.
“I was. Now I’m here, and I must admit that I’m so glad I came in late today, rather than jumping in my car and heading straight home to my empty house.”
His smile was sinful. Gazing at him, she tried hard to not think about the little fantasies she’d had about him, lest he read it in her eyes. His next words shocked her.
“I must say, I’m hard as a rock after watching that”
She looked up at him, mouth somewhat agape.
“Yes, I said I am hard as a rock. Now, I have three possible solutions to this little situation we find ourselves in. In solution one, I nod to you and thank you for that delightful scene, and we both go home to our separate places. I can’t say I’ll ever forget this experience, nor will I not think of it when I see you in the break room, at the coffee machine, or sitting here just like this.”
“I…suppose I should give you my resignation…”
“Ah, but that’s not an option of any of my scenarios. I would like to continue, if I may?”
His voice carried just the faintest note on censure. She blushed, nodding, and muttered a soft “I’m sorry.”
“Very well then. My scenario number two is pretty interesting. In that one, I bend you over your desk and fuck the living hell out of you, and then we go our separate ways. The third version starts the same way, your very sexy body being fucked right here on your desk. But when we’re somewhat sated, we leave together, and go back to my place so that I may continue enjoying your lovely body. There will be food in there somewhere, too. I won’t make options two or three mandatory, despite having caught you in an extremely compromising position, and despite being extremely turned on and really wanting to fuck you.”
He paused his eyes skimming over her, pausing at her tits, then focusing on the open vee where her pants were not yet fastened. The lace of her panties was damp now, damper since he had come upon her.
“I won’t be gentle, either.”
Those words made electric tingles run straight down to her clit. His look was potent, but those words kindled an intense need within her.
“Which do you choose, my dear?”
She knew for sure that she didn’t want to wake up from this dream–for surely it was a dream and not reality? How could it even be possible that the man who was so out of her reach, the man she had several great masturbation fantasies about –wasn’t really in her office, the taste of her pussy on his tongue, wanting to fuck her. She wasn’t dreaming, she knew. She could see him, feel his warmth, and see the proof of his wanting right there on the front of his pants.
She cleared her throat, and smiled.
But black and blue is better…just sayin’…
sometimes you have to write when you get the chance to write…it’s short, but it’s been in my head for days…
…addendum #2…I just found this in my archives, half-finished from October 2016. I really needed to finish this, you know, because. Because….well, sometimes one is just in the mood for a good hard fuck. Am I right? 😀 ~nilla~
The note was on the floor in front of the mat. She knew what she had to do. Go to the mat and sit.
She sat. Settled herself. Wriggled. Settled again. She picked up the note.
close your eyes
She closed her eyes. But wait! How was she supposed to do all the instructions if she couldn’t freaking read them?? Her eyes popped open.
yes. I said close your eyes. But read all the directions first, slut. Sometimes you’re too quick to obey…do one thing, and do it fully. Read. Process. Then follow the damned instructions.
She could hear his voice, the mix of wry humor and a dash of annoyance. A smile played across her lips, before she continued reading.
Close your eyes. Breathe. Slowly, for five minutes. When the time is up, you’ll hear a chime. Behind you will be a blindfold. With your eyes closed, and only by putting your hands behind you–and by being as still as possible–find the blindfold, then put it on. Hands palm up on your thighs, and settle into your breath.
“Master, the yogi,” she whispered softly. He often compared submission to meditation, and had apparently set up today’s playtime to illustrate that.
More play, less omh, she thought, disgruntled at the thought of what she was missing. She needed to be fucked, dammit! Orgasms! Many wonderful orgasms! His hands on her, oh how he delivered pain to her ~ and oh, how her body sang with each pounding beat. That moment when her heartbeat marched to the same rhythm of his hand? There was nothing to compare.
She sat, breathing, eyes closed. Remembered that when thoughts flowed in, she was to gently push them away, like little words encased in bubbles. The chime startled. Had it been five minutes…and wait a damned minute.
Shit! The blindfold part. She reached behind her. Nothing. Trying to be as still as possible while searching for something that was behind you with your eyes closed? Just about the most ridiculous thing. Like, ever. A small growl of frustration escaped her.
“Growling isn’t very meditative.”
His voice came from right in front of her. She jumped a mile. Her mouth opened as she prepared to yell, but his finger pressed against her lips, silencing her. The blindfold settled over her closed lids.
The praise warmed her, even as her pussy throbbed in need. The tap on her mouth made her open; the ball gag was big, really huge. Her jaws were stretched wide as could be to accommodate the girth of it. How this was at all sexy and appealing to him was a mystery. Senses fine-tuned, she could smell the musky scent of him. How she longed to break posture and wrap her arms around his knees, press her face into the junction of his thighs, inhale deeply the hot fragrance of his crotch. She longed to lick his cock, to run her lips over the curves and lines of his shaft, to feel him grow strong and hard on her tongue.
He stepped away. Though he was silent, the heat and smell that read as “Master” had dissipated. Feeling her mouth fill with saliva, she burned with embarrassment as she felt it slip into the holes of the gag, anticipated the feeling of the first spattering of her own spit on her tits. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
He was nearby, she was sure of it. The knowledge that he was looking at her, kneeling there, blind and gagged, with spit drizzling onto her body as she struggled with the need to move, to wiggle, to wipe away the now cold ooze made her uncomfortable; yet the knowing also made her hot. She felt a different sort of dripping along her left ankle, and knew that her cunt was also drooling for his cock.
Her knees ached. Her back felt stiff. Her nipples grew hard as the air moved around her nakedness.
“Come here. Crawl.”
How did he know she was so close to breaking? He was a freaking dominant genius, that was how. She followed the direction from where his voice came, crawling on all fours like the slutty beast she was, until she bumped into his leg.
“Turn around, forehead on the floor.”
Which meant her ass and cunt would be on full display. Egads, how she loathed this part. It was hot, that she did it because he demanded it of her, but it embarrassed her no end. To have him staring at her ass, her asshole. It was humiliating, and hot. It was always a shock, his fascination with her anus.
His fingers slid up her pussy, flicking her clit, diddling at the entry of her fuckhole. Her moan was loud as his fingers teased along that hot, slick opening.
“You’re hot and wet here, whore. Tells me you want something stuck in here. Tells me you want a good fucking. Is that true? Is that what your cunt is saying to me?”
“assssss errrrr” She mumbled around the gag.
The fingers slid easily inside of her. The sound was a moan of pure pleasure, her back arching to encourage him ‘more’. She wanted his violence. She wanted to be used in the most brutal of ways.
“fuck me, hard. use my cunt. rape it, abuse it, slap it, make me…”
She moaned, losing focus on her thoughts as he plunged his fingers deeper. The sound when he pulled out was one of disappointment and loss. She needed it! Needed those incredible fingers. Until one by one they popped into her ass. She squirmed, groaning. She wasn’t a fan of anal, yet it drove her crazy. Her pussy began to ooze steadily, an orgasm building in her belly. Her ass began to hurt, painfully stretched by his big fingers in her hole. He shoved them in, tugged them out, the roughness of the assault only adding to the fire in her cunt. She was close, so close to an orgasm.
His fingers pulled out of her throbbing rectum, wiped across her ass.
She had no idea which way ‘around’ was. She rose, her forehead feeling like a mold of the wood floor, trying to find the right place to be. His fingers closed in her hair, tugging her forward. She felt the fine fabric of his work slacks, smelled the fine scent of his cock.
“You want this?”
He slapped her cheek with his semi-hard shaft. She nodded, her nose turning left, right, seeking. The gag was released; she gulped breath, trying not to groan at the feeling of all that spit on her face. The bouncing of the ball was her only clue that he was ready, until his hands grabbed her head and rammed his cock into her mouth. He fucked her mouth as roughly as he’d fingered her ass.
Gods! How she loved how hard he used her!
It didn’t matter that she gagged as he grew longer, harder, thicker. It didn’t matter that her hair was pulled, her cheeks squeezed tight, that her nose was filled with male crotch hair, even though it smelled of pee. She focused on the velvety sensation of his cock coming to life in her mouth.
He pulled out of her mouth.
“I’m going to fuck the holy shit out of you, slut.”
With that, he fell on her, slamming her back to the floor, his body weight pinning her, as his cock unerringly found its way into her slippery cunt. His pants were below his thighs, the zipper scraping along the inside of her leg, and still she whined for more, harder. His body slapped against her, into her, the roughness of his hands using her tits as handles as he drove fiercely. Her cunt screamed, leaking juices like a squeezed lemon. It was rough and hard and with every thrust she could feel her body gearing up to explode. When the fingers from one hand slid between them, found her clit and pinched it hard, she arched, letting him drive deeply into her core. She screamed as she bucked under him, the shock of the pleasure so intense that she didn’t need the blindfold to keep her in the dark.
She awoke in the dark alone. He’d stayed longer than usual, using her again and again until, when she fainted the last time, from the pain and the bliss, he folded her up in his arms and tucked her throbbing body in bed. She glanced at the clock. Uncannily, she’d woken just minutes before her alarm went off. Her body throbbed as she rolled to her side to get up. Her ass and pussy ached, her arms and tits and legs all carried a varying degree of ouchies.
It was going to be a good day.
Snow snow snow snow snow
nilla’s family home all day
no writing for me.
Frustrated, I wait
Fingers tap on table
–mimicked keyboard strokes.
Wednesday restday yay
stories dancing in my head
longing to emerge.
Love in my D/s world shows itself in the variety of bruises he lays upon my skin. And while I know He loves me…losing the marks of that love is a very different kind of pain and, really….a kind of loss. At least I have pictures…and still that tiny little dark bruise on my nipple.
It kinda feels like I’ve gone “off grid”, doesn’t it?
But after SOOO much time without playtime, having it is simply overwhelming. It’s not that I’m relieving every moment, every moment of my day. It’s not that I’m sighing happily at remembered things. It’s not that I’m feeling a bit of sub-drop.
It’s…missing him almost more than I did before.
He and I spent a lot of time apart, four months without seeing one another at all. Now, after touching him, being with him? It kinda makes my heart and body hurt to be without. My weekends are crazy busy, and trying to eke out time from either of our schedules, and accommodate that fickle bitch ~ Mother Nature ~ it’s nearly impossible just now.
I miss Him.
So I’ve been spending some very busy times remembering, yes, and more, yearning. I can’t be with him 24/7. We’ve not that dynamic. So I’m not yearning for the white picket fence, and me in my nothings, scrubbing his floor and taking care of his every breathing desire. That might be some people’s fantasy, but it isn’t mine, nor is it his. We’re in this for the play…no matter how brutal it may seem to vanilla’s. We’re in this for the bruising pinches, the painful slaps, the fierce biting, the whipping and beating and fucked to a frenzy of it all.
Quiet introspection is something I do pretty well. There’s not many I can share this with…you all, here in blogland, and a few friends IRL. So I hold it close and try to not be overly dramatically poignant about missing him. Because I’ve been there, done that and…gotten through it.
I’ll be writing next week. Much work ahead for me for the next 5 days, and then some breathing space. I’ve kind of hit the ground running and that helps ameliorate some of my feeling of loss….hard to focus on being sad/down/lonely/longing when you’re working 10 days in a row, you know?
For now, just moving forward. He wants to play again, no more of this 13-month waiting for one another crap.
Thanks be to all the powers of the Universe for that!
His mouth and hands should be registered as weapons… 😀
They are brutal and strong, his hands. He pinches me fiercely, all over. My belly, my ass. My tits (oh, my aching tits!)
He’s holding one nipple in the tiniest “bite” of his fingers…and my belly in one multi-fingered grab of flesh. I can move no place without pain, he has me locked in stasis with the sudden intense pain in my nipple and belly. I’m nearly crying when he releases my belly, but retains the grip on my nipple.
He talks of normal things and then looks at me wincing…and snaps his finger off my nip…”Oh, I forgot I was still holding that,” He says with a devilish grin.
(yeah, right, sure you did!)
Timing is a blur, you understand. At one point I’m looking at him and he slaps my face, and I think I might just curl up and explode at the ecstasy. We’re so strangely wired, we pain sluts!!
He played with some of the whips from Wordwitch (omfg). I HATE THEM!! OH! The ouch. Oh. The incredible ouch as he slaps the thin rubber one on my pussy. I know he’s not hitting as hard as he could but still. Oh gosh. Oh my. Oh holy shiiiit!
He throws it aside and falls on me, biting my nipples and slapping my cunt. Slapping. I arch up into each blow…moaning. Something inside of him breaks…I can almost hear it. He growls, savaging my nipple, the flesh of my breast, trying to consume as much flesh as he can. His growls become fiercer, his hand is pounding on my clit…and I gush. He doesn’t stop hitting me, I don’t stop whining and begging for “more, harder, please Master, harder”
until I come several more times, each more intense than the last.
And when I’m laying there, throbbing, he jabs three of his big man-fingers into me and fingers me into oblivion. I whimper and cry how much it hurts. He growls and all but punches my cunt with those pounding fingers. I can’t come, I can’t…it hurts so bad, my pussy all raw and aching …
and I come so hard that I drench his shirt halfway to his elbow. (am I the only one who finds it intensely hot when He doesn’t get naked but I am?)
“Can’t?” he says, his tone droll against my breast where his teeth had been savaging. “Somehow I find that to be…inaccurate, nilla.” He holds up his hand over me, where I can see all of his fingers dripping, feel the drops splatter on me.
“You fucking slut,” he laughs, wiping my juice on my belly. His fingers slide down my body again and I whimper….