Hired! ~17~

“Ahah! Found you, you little cunt!”

Alex Kimbrell wrote down the address of  Jackson, LTD. She’d moved all the way to New York City, the whore. So, she was scared, a little, and needed some attention. So he would give it to her. He knew she wanted him to find her, to take her back home, by force if necessary. She was into that whole kidnap/beating scene, apparently. He wasn’t sure if this Lance Jackson had actually hired her after their conversation, but it would be a good starting place to find her. As head of his division, he was entitled to 6 weeks of vacation time. He’d use all of it, if need be, to get his little slut back. Tapping the paper with the precious address on it with one long finger, he turned back to his computer and logged in the appropriate request for time off.

“Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty,” he muttered, shoving the address into his breast pocket. It was time to make some plans.


Her pulse was hammering, but not just in the heart beating hard between her tits. The small bud between her thighs was throbbing, matching the achy feeling of her tits and ass where he’d beaten on her yesterday. She could feel the wetness, feel the intense need building. It had begun when he’d snapped the collar around her throat, and intensified when he’d added the leash, tugging her along to the play room. But rather than taking her into the large public room, he had pulled her to a stop in front of a door.He exchanged a nod with the Watcher there, who buzzed the door open.

“Ladies–and I do use the term loosely–first.”

He gestured for her to precede him up the stairs that stretched up into another level. His fingers pinched at her calves as she climbed, causing her to stumble and yip.

“So clumsy, slut!”

Pausing, she shot him a fulminating glare before continuing up to the top. He poked her in the bum just for fun, then pushed her to the right where a door stood open.

“In there, slut.”

Stepping inside, she saw a plastic covered mattress, a built in cabinet with sheets and implements, and a variety of rings and hooks on the wall, ceiling, and the floor around the bed. She swallowed hard. The door shut with a quiet snick, and she glanced behind her. His expression had changed. He looked–feral. Fierce. His gaze, always direct, now had an intensity to it that made her feel like prey. Her belly felt quivery, a mix of fear and stark need. What this man stirred in her!

“Take off the coat, slut.”

Slowly, teasingly, she untied the knot of the tied belt, then eased it off of one shoulder. A thin black strap appeared as she shrugged the coat lower, then shook the other shoulder, allowing it to catch on her bent forearms. Cocking her head, she smiled at him.

He continued to look at her, not saying anything. After a long, silent minute, she rolled her eyes, and let the coat slip from her. Under it she wore a demi bra, which left her girls supported under the bust, but naked from the nipple upwards. The panties were black lace, and disdained to be called granny-pants. They covered the hated chastity belt, and much of her soft, round belly, and soft, round ass, but hinted at what lay between. A matching lace garter belt snugly held her hose. The stiletto’s that he’d surmised earlier, and seen going up the stairs, enhanced her softly curved thighs her shapely calves.

“Very nice. Aren’t you lucky I didn’t demand you shed the coat down in the main room?”

“Well, I would have explained…”

“And yet, I still would have demanded the coat be removed.”

Here he was, the full-Dom. Face to face with him, she wondered how she’d ever thought that Alex was? This man didn’t make her fearful, but rather, a nervous, turned-on agitation.  That he would hurt her, she had no doubt. Wasn’t she even now wearing bruises from yesterdays attack of the spatula and spoon? But he made her yearn.

“Remove the panties, leave the garter belt.”

She pouted, but slipped the panties off.

“You want that off too, don’t you?” He pointed at the chastity belt.

She nodded, eagerly anticipating the freedom. And the orgasms.

“You’ll need to earn this.”

He pulled the key up from under his shirt, let it dangle in the light. Her eyes followed the gleaming silver key. He saw the lust burn in her eyes as she leaned ever so slightly towards the shining key dangling from his neck.


“So impatient.”

“I’ve been in this thing forEVER!”

“Not yet, no.”

“It feels like it.”

“Poor little slut. Horny as fuck and unable to touch or play with herself.”

“Yes. And … you haven’t…”


“You know.”

“I know many things.”

She rolled her eyes. She hated when he played the obtuse game.

“You haven’t…sealed the deal. You know. Stop! I hate that when you put on that stupid face!”

“The Jerkface Jackson face, you mean?”

He pulled a long face, bugged out his eyes. She giggled, thought about slapping at him, but didn’t quite dare.

“Yes, that one. That…jerkface face.”

He stepped closer, into her personal space. She could feel the heat from him now, his breath on her forehead.

“Hands behind your back, slut.”

They went behind, promptly. He stepped around her, then bound her hands, of course with a tie. She could feel the slippery silk, but also felt him weaving it over and around her tightly.

“So tell me, slut, what haven’t I done?”

“The..ga-donk-a-donk. The crazy monkey dance. Belly bumping.”

“Ah. I see.”

She warmed to the topic.

“Boinking! Buttering the biscuit! Checking the oil…”

“Fucking. You forgot that one.”

He reached around, pinched her left nipple.

“Say it.”


He twisted the nipple.


He let go of her nipple, flicking it gently with a fingertip. She sighed.

“Now I’m all embarrassed.”

“But it’s true. I haven’t fucked your cunt yet. Your lovely mouth, yes, but not your weeping, needy cunt.”

He paused and she leaned back against him. He filled his hands with her tits, molding and squashing them between his fingers. She sighed as he released her, and pushed away.

“Now slut, let me tell you how this works.”

“Oh, please do,” she said, her tone teetering on the edge of sarcastic.

“That wasn’t very submissive, now was it?”

“I’m not a doormat. I have a voice. I can follow orders and directions, but I’m going to speak my mind.”

Stepping in front of her, he grasped her nipples, twisting lightly. She rose to her toes, until her mouth, open and gasping, was close to his.

“Good girl,” he said, surprising her. “Doormats are boring. I like your spunk.”

“I like yours too,” she replied archly.

He laughed, then twisted her nipples, hard.



With so many chapters of Hired! now done, I’ve decided to create a page to put them all in…all 20,000+ words of it! Whoa! I’m still deciding on a direction, and am in the middle of reading it from start to the end of where we’re all hanging…

But I expect to have some good writing time later this week, so know that it’s coming, really.

Even Kat might come this week. (Laughs)

I’m so very touched by all the lovely, lovely comments everyone has left, and how much everyone is into these two characters. I don’t plot out my stories (bad me!), just sit down and they pour out of me. Sometimes I can write two or three chapters in a go, other times, it’s just one scenario. Depends on the muse, I guess.

I’m hanging with this one till the end. Promise, promise! I know there’s more than one story that is still hanging in suspended animation until I get back to it. There’s a few short stories on Dark Fantasies when my mind goes off on a tangent, but mostly I’m just sticking with this one tale.

Thanks for coming along on the ride with me!



Hired! ~16~

It took her a while to figure out that a sock duct taped over the end of the vacuum hose would suck up the note without ingesting it. With a triumphant roar, she clutched the  note high over her head in a victory fist pump that almost caused her drop the fucking thing again.

Carefully she came off the couch, then smoothed the note on the dinette.

That was fun, and obviously wore you out. You were sleeping while I showered, so I have gone back home. Where the key is.

If you want release (in every sense of the word!), clean your room (I can’t believe it’s still that messy!) and then dress yourself.

I’ll meet you at the club tonight at 7.


She paced around the room. He demanded for her to clean her room? Grrr. She paced to the bedroom door and saw the chaos that still existed there. Okay, he had a point. She was normally quite fastidious but these last 36 hours or however long it had been, had been trying at best. It aggravated her no small amount that he, the disorderly King of the office, had called her out on her space. Galling. That was the word. He was full of gall, and he was pushing it to the max. Looking at the lingerie and dresses scattered hither and yon in her room, she kind of didn’t blame him for it, though. It was appalling in here.

She stepped into the room and scooped up a red bra, folding it neatly and putting it in the drawer where it belonged. A pale pink chemise was right by her foot; she quickly hung that in her closet. Hopefully some of the wrinkles would hang out before she needed to wear it again. She moved from item to item, lost in the bliss of transforming the mess into her sanctuary. How happy it was to touch all her pretty things…

She paused, fingers stilled on the black bustier.

Dammit. He knew exactly how to flip her switch from annoyance to …this. She had to admire a guy that knew how to do that…and still keep her feeling frustrated. In every sense of the word, she mouthed, quoting his note as she rolled her eyes.

In less than an hour, her room was tidy, and she found exactly what she would wear to the club. It was daring. It was dangerous. And if it got him to unlock the hated belt, it would be worth it.


“I saw you leave with the new girl,” Mammala leaned across the bar, pushing a beer towards him.

“She’s…something. Not sure what, but…”

“But she’s got her hooks in my boy already? Do I need to worry about this smooth operator?”

He grinned, his face boyish for a moment.

“Mamma, you know you don’t. I’m more hooked on her that she is on me…and that’s on me. She’s my new ‘girl Friday’ at work, and” he paused, taking a sip of the beer. Shaking his head he continued.

“I just don’t know. There’s something about her.”

“She got you. She got you baaaad, boy.”

He held up the small silver key which he wore on a string around his neck.

“Yeah, that’s true. But I have her, too.”

Mammala threw back her head and laughed lustily. She hadn’t run a D/s club for all these years without knowing what that little key went to. She would have to spend some time out in the playroom to watch this all go down, that was for certain. With a last chuckle, she tapped his hand, before moving down the bar.


He sat in the far corner at a small table where he could see the comings and goings of people at the main entrance. At 7:02 she came through,  bundled up against the evening chill, a light scarf around her throat. She seemed taller, so he imagined that stiletto’s were strapped around her ankles. He leaned back in the chair, smiling, as he watched her scan the crowd for him. Her gaze slid down the bar and back, then circled the room. At last her gaze landed on him. She gave him a long look, then passed on. He watched her shrug, the brat, then move to the bar, where she engaged in a laugh-filled chat with MammaLa.


“You’re looking for your man?”

“He’s not “my” man,” Katherine replied. “He’s…well…”

“Honey, when a man comes and waits over an hour for a date, ignoring everyone and everything except his beer and the door, he’s definitely yours.”

“He did not…did he?”

“Indeed he did.” Mamma passed a glass to her, unasked for.

“What…I didn’t order yet,” she said.

“Your “not your man” did when he got here. Trust me honey, you have him all kinds of interested. Now, go and be with the boy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this way. Play nice with one another.”

Taking the glass of wine, she moved through the crowd of tables, though they weren’t too crowded this early and on a Sunday evening.  Stopping in front of his table, she nodded.

“Thank you for the wine,” she said, taking a sip. “It’s very nice.”

“I’m glad you approve. Take off the scarf.”

Her back straightened. It was a tone, some steel in his voice that slid right into her spine.  In moments the scarf was in her free hand. When he snapped his fingers and lifted his palm, she laid it there.

“Good,” he said, though he was not smiling. Rising, he moved around the table. When she would have turned to face him, he pointed a finger at her.


Frozen in place, she stood.

“You’ll need this.”

Something cool slipped around her throat. A collar.

“It’s locked, too,” he spoke softly in her ear. “Just like that metal belt that’s been keeping that pussy waiting for me.”

A shiver danced across her skin, even as a hot slash of lust set fire to her clit. Stepping to the front of her, he took a leash from his pocket, snapping the end of it to the D-ring on the collar.

“Come.” He jangled the chain, and turning, headed towards the play room door.






Question Month Q. 2

Olivia asked: is there a kinky thing you’ve never done that you’d like to try, given the right opportunity?

I did think about this a lot while it snowed today. (yes, frikking snowed a nor’easter AGAIN! 3rd one in 10 days…!)

So, I’ve done a lot in the last 9 years. That’s not a braggy thing, btw, just a statement of fact. But there are things I haven’t done because they are not my kink, nor M’s. He has a very clear guideline–if there’s something HE wants to try, we’ll do it. He’ll entertain ideas of things I might want and consider them, but not necessarily do them. I had sex with a visitor that he lined up, while He watched and took pix. I’ve had nipple pain/beating, anal sex, and the last playtime, bondage to the bed so that I could not move. (That was a big one for me, verrrry hawt!)

Is there something I haven’t done that I’d like?

I’ve had a long fascination with having my nipples pierced, but now? I dunno. M has cautioned against it because he could really hurt me with them. He’s very nipple-centric? And because I’m older, and my skin is not youthful and forgiving, it could do damage, which both of us would like to avoid. (He’s not opposed to hurting me, but damaging me is something he’s very careful about.)

I like the idea of an anal hook, but I’ll confess I’m not a huge fan of anal to begin with. I also confess that I cum like an anal whore when He fucks my ass, so…yeah.

I think the only thing I haven’t tried that I might like to explore is wax play…and that’s a pretty tame thing isn’t it? Have I disappointed all you pervie peeps? I watch porn GIFs and videos etc, and while I find the stuff on there mostly erotic, it’s mostly stuff that’s really nasty that gets me off, while NOT being something I want to experience. Like being fucked by a roomful of people. Or beaten to unconsciousness and fucked. It’s great to masturbate to, but not so much for real life, yanno?

Maybe some of that is how long I’ve been in the kink world, and some is how infrequently M and I have gotten together…it’s been 7 months since I last saw him IRL. Seven. Fucking. Months. And maybe some of it is my age. I hate to say I’m more wary because for so long I was a total “throw caution to the wind” kind of slut. As an older person, I feel more…breakable? Plus, in my job, I need to be in good physical shape or I can’t work. So, I’m not jaded, but my vanilla life (and lack of play) has definitely narrowed my needs down to the simple basics: fuck me brainless, spank me, beat my tits, fuck my face…

All the rest is just, at least for now, fantasy.

Thanks for asking, Olivia!

A Question for Question Month!

Jz writes:

They’ve given you a trophy:
“World’s Best __________”
What is written in the blank?

Thanks for a really challenging question, Jz!! I’ve been thinking about this question a lot. She wrote this days ago and still I ponder. What am I really good at? Well, a cop out answer is “being me”…but I doubt that they give anyone a trophy for that.

And then I think “Liar”…because this whole life on the other side of the slash is a complete lie to the vanilla side of my life. With the exception of two friends who share my proclivities, and my M, no one in my vanilla life even has an inkling of who I am on the inside. It’s been 10 years since my “awakening”, an event that was triggered by one of the darkest periods in my marriage. Ten years — a DECADE — since I discovered that there was a name for these longings, for the dirty nasty things I like, that turn me on, that make me wet, that make me cum. Ten years since I discovered my inner slut.

And then I wonder if “Worlds Best Liar” fits, you know? “Worlds Best” is pretty big league- I’m thinking Bernie Madoff kind of big. Of course, he wasn’t the best liar, because he did get caught…

And liar has such a negative connotation. There’s guilt involved. The guilt of deception, because I’m one way in my day to day, and another way in my head. In here. Where I can write out my fantasies, and share them with other like-minded peeps. Like you.

And then I think…well, I’ll bet YOU don’t walk around wearing a vest with all your D/s badges on them, right? You don’t have an “I’M A FUCKING ASSHOLE DOM” button that you wear to the grocery store, right? Nor a “I’M A CUNT” or “I’LL FUCK YOU” or “USE MY HOLES” when you’re going to the mall, right?

Not in real life.

This … thing… we do, who we are when we do it…it’s real. It’s real to us, and our partner(s). It’s real in the moment, in our domination and our submission. That’s not a lie.

We have, each in our own way, learned to balance the dark with the vanilla, our needs versus our daily life, knowing that it’s really pretty much impossible to be out living openly as a Dom, or as a submissive and still be in the world, adulting. It’s not just about the sex…it’s about the core of who we are. Many submissives are strong and, if not exactly dominant in their daily lives, are at least in strong leadership roles. And I’m sure there are dominants out there who are not the boss at their jobs, who have to follow directions from someone above them.

We have to get along in our world, after all.

What we bring to our relationships is that other. The part of us that is tamped down during the many hours, days, weeks that our vanilla lives demand from us. Having time to do, to be, who we really are with our Dom or our sub? That’s freedom from the reality of life. After all, would I really want my entire life to be stuck in some Dom’s cellar, used only for the holes i have?

Oh hell no.  But it’s a fantasy that never fails to make me have the most intense orgasm!

And now, I’ve strayed a bit from that trophy title haven’t I? But I needed to sort through all the thoughts that have been rolling around in my noggin since I read it. I’m not the worlds best writer because I don’t follow all the rules for writing perfection, and my style isn’t for everyone (then again, neither is Tolstoy, and War and Peace is a classic…).  I’m thinking of all the things I’m not…ruling out my award. Maybe it’s time I think about what I am…a good friend, a good mom, a good pet mom, a good gardener, and a decent cook. I’m great at swearing, working hard, not giving up, and being creative. But what would you give me an award for?

Oh. Oh I know. I know what I’m really, really REALLY good at.

Worlds Best HUGGER

Nor’easter V2.0

So we’re once again battening down our hatches in preparation for snowmageddon. This one looks like it will really affect us here in northern Mass; it was really the coast that fared badly in last weekends storm. There was so much coastal damage that it boggles the mind. The ocean is a powerful, unstoppable force.

Today we’ve gotten some snow already, a portent if you will. I live in one of several “bullseye” areas, expecting 18″ of snow. I’m trying to just be all zen about it but I admit that inside I’m screaming. I have flowers up. I am ready for spring here, people! It was 80 10 days ago. EIGHTY. (Record breaking, as a matter of fact.)

If we don’t lose power, I should have a lot of writing time tomorrow…

I’m reminded that it’s also March, which is Question Month in blogland. If you have any questions that I’ve not answered with all my various babbings, feel free to put it in the comments, or shoot me an email, and it will become a blog post! Till then, happy shoveling, peeps!

Hired! ~15~

She lay on the couch, a light blanket over her. Her body throbbed. Ass, thighs, tits, her face where he’d smacked her during the most intense blow job she’d ever given. Gods, just thinking of it made her wet. Her throat was sore, but all of the pain fused together to make for one intensely erotic playtime.

Except, of course, for the fucking chastity belt.

Which she was still wearing, damn him to hell and beyond.

But the feeling of aggravation couldn’t stand up to the incredible memories of his cock in her throat, his hands in her hair, using her mouth as a hole.  It should have made her feel worthless, certainly by today’s mores. But she felt entirely different from what “should be” dictated. He fulfilled her. He’d used her, teased her, touched her, smacked the ever-loving shit out of her. At no point in their play had she felt anything less than beautifully used.

There was that throbbing between her legs again,  she thought. Just thinking of him was doing that. Well, now that she thought about it, she did have to pee. And didn’t she hate doing that with this stupid, fucking belt on? Where was he? Vaguely she thought she remembered him wanting a shower. But she didn’t hear it running.

She also remembered him talking about her toy box. What toys she had, where. For a while she was hopeful that he was planning on using them on her, but somewhere between the slapping, biting, and kissing, she’d fallen asleep. It had been awhile since she’d had play time, and she certainly didn’t think it had ever had the same intensity.

The pressing need of her bladder roused her away from thoughts of orgasms needed. What she needed most was the bathroom, and soon! Kicking free of the blanket, she got to her feet, found herself shaky and sore. She made her way to the bathroom.

“Hey, I need to pee…”

But the bathroom door was open, only a slightly damp warmth letting her know he’d been there. What the fuck? She peed, shifting on the seat. Pissing through the belt was not the most comfortable of things, and she was afraid she would get a pissy rash if he didn’t take it off soon. But that would require finding him, so it seemed. A wet washcloth got her outer labia cleaned well, and she left the bathroom feeling frustrated. In every sense of the word, she muttered to herself. Imagining that big cock sliding inside of her pussy…no. No, she mustn’t even begin to go there or the need would drive her wild.

He wasn’t in the living room, the bedroom, or the kitchen. What was there was a note. It made her seethe to find it, so she crumpled it into a ball and threw it across the room. It bounced on the back of the couch before rolling over the back.

“nooooo!” she yelped, leaping for it. “Wait…I haven’t read it yet, dammit!” But it fell behind it anyway. The couch was a heavy behemoth; it had taken both moving guys to muscle it into place. She moved the coffee table, and lay on the floor to see if she could reach it that way. It was, naturally, back against the wall, a good foot beyond her fingertips.

“Broom!” she said, and rolled to her feet, banging her shoulder on the way. “Fucking damn OUTCHIES!” she yelled, then uttered a loud FUCK when she stubbed her toe on the door jamb to the kitchen.


She ordered herself. “Take a breath. Calm the fuck down.”

Pausing, she inhaled slowly, as she’d learned in yoga class. She really needed to get back to that someday, she mused. “Okay….broom. S-l-o-w-l-y. Carefully.”

With trusty red broom in hand, she slid back to the floor in front of the couch, but had to get up to push the table further away so she could finangel the handle underneath. With a triumphant *flick* she tapped the wadded up note, shooting it directly into the corner, where the wide leg of the couch effectively blocked any further attempts.

“The. Fuck.” She huffed out a breath, cursing her ineptitude with the broom, her impatience for throwing it in reaction, and him  for creating the situation in the first place. Her phone rang, and she reached up to the coffee table without getting up off the floor.

Of course.

“You Bastard.”

“Well. Hello to you too, slut. And here I thought you’d be all warm and tender.”

“Well, I’m not. You LEFT. Just sailed out the door and…”

He interrupted. “Didn’t you read my note?”

“uhm…there was a little problem…” her voice trailed off. How did one explain such a thing to one’s new Dom?

“Hmmm…a bit of temper, perhaps? Did you rip it into a million pieces perchance?”

“Noooo, but kinda something like that…”

“I shouldn’t tell you what it said, then, now should I?”

“that would be really mean…” her voice was quiet. She knew she’d gone a bit over the top but still…

“Indeed. I’m rather renowned for that, you know. Being mean. Many little girls actually like that.”

She sighed.

“But because I’m in a rather…shall we say…relieved state of being,”

She rolled her eyes, thankful he couldn’t see her.

“I’ll tell you one thing that it said.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Well?” she said, breaking the silence.

“That was it.”

“What  was “it?” she asked, thinking her phone must have blurped out for a moment.

“That . Silence. It was the space between some of the things that I wrote. Sweet things.”

“That’s not something you said.”

“Ah, but silence communicates much, wouldn’t you say?”

It was so very hard to restrain herself, so she clapped her hand over her mouth. After an even longer pause, she heard his chuckle.

And then a click.


She was seriously pissed. Pacing around the floor, muttering imprecations about the asshat who was her dom…for right now, at any rate… she had worked herself into a state of high fury.

“Well, fuck him!” 

She paused her pacing. Maybe she could wriggle her way free of the belt if she sucked her belly in hard.

It didn’t work.

Nor did tugging the lock on the back of the thing. And she didn’t own bolt cutters. Yet.

The phone rang, interrupting her furious attempts to be free of the hated, annoying, STUPID belt.

“WHAT?” she yelled into the phone.

“I forgot to tell you that I have the key to the belt. I was going to leave it on your dresser, but I left it here by accident. Or by cosmic design.”

“I need to get out of this thing. Like…NOW.”

“Oooh, you sound so frustrated little girl.”

It took every ounce of willpower to not throw her phone across the room. But all that would do is break the phone.

“I need to cum.”

“Awww,” he said. Damn him, she could hear the laughter in his voice. “Too bad you didn’t read my note, then, isn’t it?”

He laughed as he hung up. Again.

She had to get that fucking note.



A Brief Interlude

I’m working on the story, I promise. I know that’s what you really do come here for and i’m so appreciative of all the lovely compliments…this is a fun one!

My work schedule is crammed as I try to work around the roadblock of this stupidly huge Nor’easter (while holding those who call the coastline ‘home’ are in my prayers…this is going to be a bad, very bad, blow up here…). You know, when we have flowers bravely popping up through the soil, we get this…this…thing.

If you’re not from up here, you don’t really get how bad nor’easters can be. But suffice to say, we’re gonna get it all–rain changing to snow, very severe (tropical storm and hurricane force winds for 36 – 40 hours) winds, and for the coast, a terrible battering from full-moon high tides (15′ plus storm surge!).

So why am I tellin’ you all this? Because, while I may have enough charge to write my chapters, I may not have internet if we lose any trees. (let alone power).

Forecasters are saying this is going to be worse than the Perfect Storm (the movie mostly shows the guys in the boat, a terrible tragedy, but there was a lot of damage all over Massachusetts from the severe storm).

So, we’ll batten down our hatches, and I’ll stockpile words for you all, and start publishing as soon as the storm is over and power is back. Until then, everyone…run, run to the store for bread and milk omg! It’s a nor’easter! Dorothy….Dorothhhhyyyy…(oh, wrong storm…!)