Hired! ~18~

She was thrumming. As an avid reader she had often thought that any of  the books she’d read about D/s -with all those silly adjectives- were just that…silly. But her body was quite literally thrumming with anticipation. She yearned for him; his touch, his wit -even when he drove her crazy, which was about every other sentence-and even his rare smile. Through his careful application of touch, and words, and the fucking, frigging, gawd-awful annoying chastity belt, he’d made her burn with needs so intense it was painful. Or pain-empty, she thought snidely.

Normally she would object to that, to being ‘trained’ to be so needy. But here? Now? There was no denying that she wanted to scream in his face

“FUCK MEeeeeeeee!”

which would not be very dignified, and who knew how he’d react? He likely wouldn’t like being screamed at in her banshee voice, but he might enjoy that he’d driven her to the absolute end of her wits. She kept her eye on that shining key, transfixed. It held, literally and figuratively, the keys to the kingdom. Or the pussydom. Or the Dom’s pussy.

She wanted to giggle, but held it back because then she’d have to explain and she wanted to get that key!

“I see you’re holding conversations in your bobble-head again, slut,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “I wonder if I’m in any way involved?”

“I-sorry,”Sir. I was…thinking about the key. About getting out of this. About your delicious cock…”

“All to the good slut but unless you shut up..verbally AND in your head, you’ll not understand the game. If you don’t understand the game, you’ll lose, and you’ll have to wear that to work tomorrow.”

He pointed at the silver belt that fit around her waist, that blocked access to her very needy pussy. Swallowing hard, because she absolutely did not want to wear the belt to work, OMG perish the thought, she nodded, biting hard on her inner lip to silence herself.

“Better,” he said, watching her for a moment.  “I’m going to clamp your nipples. Every ten seconds, I’m going to tighten them. If you can stand it for a full two minutes, you’ll have passed your first test.”

Slowly she nodded. What choice did she have, she pondered. It was take the clamps and torture, or be stuck wearing metal panties. Flicking her nipples to draw them taut, he grasped one, and twisted it experimentally, making a ‘hmm’ as his eyes bored into hers. She winced as he tweaked hard to the right, then harder still. Nodding, he released the swollen bud, only to snap a clamp upon it.

She gasped aloud.

“Already you react? It’s going to be a very long 120 seconds then, won’t it, slut?”

She swore she could see the sadistic gleam in his eyes.

“It was just..”

Just what, she wondered. She couldn’t tell him how needy she was, not yet. Or tell him that the quick bite of the clamp had arrowed a shot of lust-pain directly to her clit.  Quirking his brow at her, he twisted the other nipple.  This time she expected the quick hit of pain, but he slowly released the lever, denying her the jolt that her body was craving.

The smirky smile danced around his mouth, tightening her resolve. She’d bear that two minutes, indeed she would.

Twist

Twist

The first ten second tightening was nothing more than a caress. By the first minute, she was squirming, her pussy throbbing, her nipples starting to burn.

Twist

Twist

As He tightened the knobs on the clamps for the tenth time, she thought her nipples were going to be crushed beyond salvation. Feeling the seconds pass with the painful pulse beating she whimpered through the eleventh and then braced for the twelfth, (thank all the gods!) and  final twist. Gritting her teeth and breathing slowly, she stared at him.

“Good slut,” he said, then flicked a finger along each clamp, setting them to bouncing. “Now, jump.”

“What?” her tone was pure shock.

“You heard me.”

Looking steadily at him, she thought about disobeying.

“It’s…going to hurt.”

“Yeahh,” he purred.

“Bastard”

Cocking his head at her, he smiled.

“Did you say something there slut?”

She shook her head and gave a half-hearted jump. Her tits wobbled and wiggled, and she groaned.

“Good practice jump. Again, but higher.”

She groaned louder, but jumped a bit higher.

“Slut. Your toes barely even left the floor. JUMP, cunt, jump. Wait. I think you need more motivation. Bend over.”

Dear gods, what had she gotten herself into? It had been so long since she’d had a play session. The last time with Asshole Andy hadn’t been playtime, but a brutal beating.  She wasn’t used to this. She…

He slapped the underside of her tits hard, as she stood there, bent at the waist. Her tits stung, and each impact set the clamps to swinging wildly as her huge breasts wobbled in response. Every blow against her under-tit made her squirm and yelp. It was finally only his hand in her hair that held her until he was finished.

“OMG!” she yelped, gasping.

Still using  her hair he pulled her upright again.

“Motivated?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yessir,” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

“Good, then get on with it.”

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. She wanted to kick him. A mutinous expression crossed her face, but she desperately wanted to get out of the damn belt. Fuck, she could prove to him that she was made of strong stuff.

She jumped.

Gritting her teeth, she whistled out a breath as her tits screamed fire from her nipples outward. He stepped up to her, grabbing each large tit in each hand, and smacked them together.

“Such lovely tits,” he said, his hands gripping the flesh tightly. He pushed them together, making her whimper low in her throat.

“Fuckable, lovely fuckable tit tunnel,” he said, before laughing and releasing her. He removed a clamp quickly, flicking the abused nipple.

“Tell me slut, which hurts worse now…the clamped nip, or the one without?”

If she could have done anything in that moment, she would have hit him, or bitten him, or something, but the two different pains had her mouth opening, closing, and silent.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you were speechless. I suppose it won’t last, but at least now I know how to have a moment’s respite…” He laughed, pleased at his own humor.

As she opened her mouth to speak, he removed the other clamp. With a gasp, she doubled over, wondering if her nipple was still on her, or stuck within the clamp. Lifting her by her chin, he kissed her, hard.

“Good slut. Step one, done.”

 

 

HNT~ Master’s Pick

I sent M some boob pic’s because I haven’t in a while. And my post yesterday was all angsty, but made me reflect that some of the effort of maintaining our synergy lies upon me, not only Himself.

Synergy, by the way is defined thusly:

syn·er·gy
ˈsinərjē/
noun
  1. the interaction or cooperation of two or more organizations, substances, or other agents to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects.
    synonyms: cooperative interaction, cooperation, combined effort, give and take

I like this word a lot. It’s a statement that reminds me that we both bring something to our relationship, and it isn’t only kneeling and ordering, but the little things we can do to maintain our connections, despite the long vanilla times when we’re apart.

The best part of the definition for me is the “greater than the sum of their separate effects” part. Together we are explosive, raw, violent, passionate–so very different from our vanilla selves.

And synergy aside, what Dom doesn’t enjoy a bunch of titty pictures from his submissive?

Then I asked him to pick his favorite for HNT. I’m almost surprised that he went for the most subtle one of the bunch. They’re all variations on the theme of Naptime, by the way. Without further ado, here is M’s pick:

20180328_130912

This Could Be Exciting

Okay, so my *favorite* vibrator is dying. I have actually bought 3 iterations of it over the years but at long last it is no longer available. So I bought a sibling of it, and while it’s a bit girthier, which I like, it doesn’t have the same ripply texture and the vibe is more buzzy? In a lighter way, somehow. Anyhow, we’re going to take some time to develop a relationship.

sigh

I hate buying a new vibe. So then I go back to the website…because the one I wanted was like $185.

*hysterical laughter*

Right, as if I’d spend almost $200 on my pussy? Uh, no. Too much of a frugal Yankee here for that. But then I saw *this*…and I have to admit that I bought it immediately.

Dodil

By the way, this is NOT an advertisement. I don’t do those sorts of endorsements. But I’m SO excited by the idea of this (and the video showed it as being fairly girthy, too!). You can *shape* this! Mold it to bend and have nobbies in places that feel good…oh gosh. It’s like a fantasy for me, come true! And while it’s not a vibrator, I’m hoping that the various forms I can shape it to will more than make up for missing out on the vibe part.

I’ll let you know how it works out when it comes…hopefully sooooon so I can cum, too! LOL

Color me an eager beaver. (see what I did there?)

 

Vanilla Suckage

I love the word suckage…it evokes thoughts of cocks, and gagging on them, on the taste of His cum, on the feeling of submission I get when I kneel at his feet, sucking on Him.

This is not that kind of suckage, however.

No, this is a brief “AAARRGH” as my vanilla life has sucked so much of the wanton out of me. Sometimes, it’s really, really hard to remember that I AM a slut. That I AM a lover of pain, and powerless orgasms. That I need my well to be filled, even as he drains me. I need to be renewed as His slut, and I need it soon.

We were supposed to meet earlier this month for playtime, but being ill, then several serious snowstorms all put the end to those plans. (He actually lost power for close to a week, though we did not. He got lots of wind, we got lots of snow. It sucked for both of us…again, not the good kind of suckage!)

Now we’re hoping that we can work out the time to be together in April. Easter, and birthdays, and life will try to muck things up, but if we both stay healthy, we might, maybe, possibly be able to eke out some time together for Him to beat me. (Just re-reading that makes me smile. Seriously, are we pain sluts fucked up or what?)

As much as I need to be beaten and fucked brainless, He needs to beat, to fuck, as well. Sometimes I forget that Dominants need that release every bit as much as we submissives do. Maybe it’s because they’re all quiet and stalwart about it, and can compartmentalize it better than subs can? I dunno, that’s my personal theory, anyway.

So, I’ll be writing off my frustrations tomorrow….my day off –at LAST;  last week my “day off”  got suborned and I’ve really been feeling the need for some down time, because as much as you all have been wanting to read chapters, I’ve been dying to write them!

I’m not slipping off quietly into that vanilla night. Nope, I’m grabbing my submission and pulling it up from my toes where it’s been tamped down and making those plans and more importanly, keeping them. As He said to me this morning,

you are mostly a pain slut who hasn’t had any selective pain in quite some time.

So true.

Painfully needy for pain…how’s that for an oxymoron?

 

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.

“How?”

“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…”

“What?”

“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.”

“It.”

He twisted the nipple.

“Ittt…OKAY…OKAYYYYY!!!  FUCK!  YOU HAVEN’T FUCKED ME!”

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.

 

Housekeeping

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!

Love,

nilla

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.

Me

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.

“Stay.”

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.

trophy
Worlds Best HUGGER