I have two versions of this story. One is long, winding, giving every detail. But you’re not going to see it. I’m being a bit Mae West of late, aren’t I? ūüôā But really, this story has more impact with less detail. Use your imaginations. You can do it!

Anal toys galore.

Each in and out of my butt.

His cock enters the fray (so to speak). My ass is very unhappy about it. I’m tight, and whimpering, despite *wanting* to enjoy it? I’m not. And that’s hot isn’t it? There I was submitting to something that wasn’t particularly enjoyable to me…and that turned me on, strange human that I am.

I was sooo tight.

That it was unpleasant for HIM…and He decided to fuck the pussy instead. Way more fun, less like a “fucking vice grip, jesusH, nilla”.

Since then, multiple texts.

“Like fucking a Chinese handcuffs, nilla.”

And this, yesterday after I was a bit of a smartass…

“Stretch that asshole, nilla, or *I* will…”

(I called Him on the phone, on that one– “Master, I don’t think putting you on a rack will make you any taller…” which earned me a very dry “cute. Amazing how brave you are when there are 40 miles between us, slut.”

And I laughed. Guffawed. Went into giggle overdrive.

When we were done talking…I got another text.

“Like fucking Chinese fingercuffs.”


He leaves me blushing (and giggling) every time.

Epic ass fail?


Great story for us?

Hell yes!


Shit Day

Some days are like this, I know. The kind of day that makes you want to draw on the walls with jello, and gurgle happily. La La La….

It was a wicked fuck of a day and …wait a moment here….. yanno… I’ve used that phrase before and suddenly…it seems wrong, doesn’t it? I mean, in *our* world, a wicked fuck is a good thing. Well, that leaves me with no good expression to describe my fu-…my rotten day. That sucks.

O wait.

I do that too.

Well, fu… *sigh*… when did my D/s start to ruin my wicked bad expressions, anyway? Need I use¬†vanilla terms to describe my bad days???

“oh yes, nilla had such a miserable day.”

Oh, right. Like that says enough.


Shit Day is the best I can come up with.

And that made me think about anal sex.


Doesn’t everyone think about anal sex? You don’t? Really?

I’ll bet deep down you do. ūüôā

Anyway. I was trying to decide if I like it or don’t. There are parts I don’t, to be sure. And HE knows them and uses them on me just to get a rise out of me. But I have wicked intense orgasms from anal sex so there you go. It’s a trade-off.

Now that I’ve diverted down this hopelessly convoluted path to here, I can tell you that I hadn’t meant to go there. Like…just not. Sometime I’ll sit down and we can have a lovely natter about butt fucking. But today is not that day, and tomorrow isn’t looking hopeful either.

What I really wanted to talk about was this task I have looming ahead of me, which is why I’m blogging and not doing it. I’ve not had an O since…….shit. Like Day. Tuesday, last. I lost an O for my snit, and another just because. And another because I was tired. And another because He wanted to get me all sexed up and have nowhere to go. And then there was today (Monday)…

And I got His text to start clit flicking at 11 (that’s 11 flicks at 11). ¬†And later a text saying pussy grabs at 3 (those pussy grabs turn me on like wildfire.)

But I’ve had this shit day, you see. Where things came up and things happened and I had two jobs today and not one, and my kids were aliens and and and…it’s going on 10 pm.

There hasn’t been one fucking flick.

No pussy grabs.


I told Him. Sent Him a late-day text letting Him know there’d been a substantial delay. On my way home from work, while running errands (the fun in this day never ends)…I called Him. Told Him again that nothing had been done.

“Good thing you won’t get an O then…you’ll be far too busy catching up on those flicks” He says nonchalantly.


It’s another orgasm-free day. Sad but true. And all part of the Shit Day. All sexed up and no place to put it.

Except, of course, in His hands, where He can enjoy every moment of my turned on squirming.


“This is proof. I have zero doubt. You are a full-on Sadist.”

I write this to Him via text. I wonder what He will say. Will He smack me down for my temerity? He doesn’t unduly torment me in my day-to-day life, after all. He understands the mommy demands, the wifey demands, the living demands on my time and energy and ability to serve. He doesn’t want a wench to grovel and moan piteously unless He is there to hear it, He’s told me that in the past. So I wait, almost a bit nervously. After all, I’ve not been in top-10 communicating form with Him these last two weeks…and there was that wee snark on Saturday….and I check..and YES!

A text from Master. Nervously I open it. And giggle. Remember I told you He is a man of few words? Yeah. This sums Him up nicely. He wrote:

“Thank you.”

A Guest Redux?

Remember back in the “some time in the past” when Master had a guest Dom visit with us? ¬†There’s a post somewhen about it, with pics of me giving him a blowjob, and later, being fucked silly by him. Sir P, I think I referenced him as.

Saturday night Master mentioned him. Sir P, I mean. We were talking a bit about the submissive that is coming to our playtime. I asked a few questions, He dodged them. Well, he did tell me that I can’t talk to her. ūüôā He did mention that He’s known her for a long time, anyway. . . and then there was that little comment.

“Oh nilla, by the way….”

Master let drop that Sir P has been invited to our playday.

I’ll let that thought hang with you a moment…I wonder if your mouth is hanging open like mine was on Saturday night when Master informed me that Sir P might put in an appearance. It’s contingent upon his schedule, but as I understand it, he is eager to see me again.

That’s ¬†a thrill that also creates more of those silly nerves that dance up and down my submissive spine. It was so intense. And good. Now, I don’t spend tons of time going back over it in my head…some of it was lost to subspace, but really I don’t dwell on these other encounters. ¬† I spend time thinking of my Master, ¬†hoping that I have served Him, and His purpose in loaning me out, to the best of my ability as His submissive slut.

I guess I kind of think of it like …a job.

That’s unsexy sounding…but it is a job, isn’t it? He asks me to perform a service, and I provide that service. My “payment” is my Master’s pleasure in having me complete the task well.

Heh. Job well done, as it were.

And hell, it’s exciting as hell to be a sex object. To be objectified, and used. To be fucked and to suck another, to be a good little cock whore? It’s all wicked. And exciting. And a turn-on. He is there, Master, watching all. A voyeuristic pleasure for Him, and the pleasure of His control of the dynamics that are unfolding.

But I don’t think about it all the time. Don’t think about it in any way shape or form the way I do about Master. I hope I did good. It was a wild experience. I know it could (and likely will) occur again some day, but I don’t focus on that. Maybe¬†because¬†I was objectified. I was blindfolded, and focused on the actions of service. There is no “connection” between the Guest Dom and I other than the fact that I was there to be used.

Am I weird for not thinking about it a lot? I haven’t fretted about it, haven’t lusted for it, haven’t not wanted it again. It just is something that happened. *shrugs* I’m very blaise about the memories of it. Like I say…it was a fantasy to live out, but it doesn’t change, diminish, or increase my affections for my Master.

Then again, perhaps I’m just wired verrrry differently.

I know there are some of you who say ‘I could never do that, be whored out for another”…and if that works for you, that’s fine. This is a judgement free zone here in nilla land…it is a kink of mine to be treated like a sex toy…and Master brought that to fruition for me…and for His pleasure too.

The only repercussion from that event was *my* worry that Master would feel upset about another using me after He thought about it. I guess that He wouldn’t want me, or would have bad, jealous feelings about it. That was my fret, and as it turned out, a pointless one. He got what He wanted from the event, and is willing to make it happen again.

It is, so it’s said, what it is.

I’m here to serve. And, apparently, to suck cock.

And let’s not forget about that mystery pussy…but then, that’s a tale for another day.


Tanked (1)

“I’m not going in there..!” With a gasp, she stood upright. Below her was the largest fishtank she’d ever seen. She’d been to aquariums before, but never had she seen anything like this one. ¬†With a flick of his wrist, the old fart who had hired her gestured to the two burly men who flanked the door.

They moved forward, and lifting her easily, threw her in the tank. Her last clear thought as she felt the water closing over her head was that she was being seriously underpaid.


She’d been looking for a job for 22 weeks. The stint at the local burger joint hadn’t ended well. Newbies were not looked upon happily when they¬†criticized¬†their new bosses for not preparing food properly. She knew¬†she’d¬†never eat at one of those places ever again.

A long string of weeks followed, where her only good news was that the unemployment check was coming. She wasn’t quite ready to start eating cat food, but she wasn’t far from it, either. She needed a fucking job! ¬†There was a series of prospects, a flurry of resumes sent, received, and ¬†then, interviews. Followed by two more weeks of absolutely nothing. Geezuz. Why wouldn’t someone give her a fucking chance?

Two weeks left of her unemployment. She tried to breathe through the panic. She opened her computer and went to her local help wanted page. It fairly leapt out at her:

Wanted: Someone dedicated, loyal, trustworthy. Needs to be able to follow through, be caring, and committed to excellence.

There was an email address listed below. Hell, she was all those things and more! She sent her resume, and tried not to get her hopes up. Every fruitless interview had beat her down just enough to shake her confidence. When the  phone call came an hour later, she was, frankly, shocked. She was even more stunned when the raspy male voice insisted that she interview today, and as soon as possible, please.

She dressed quickly, but carefully, somewhere between comfort and professional. She had absolutely no idea what the job entailed.  Hopefully her simple dress, linen jacket, and colorful scarf would portray a confident, capable woman.


He’d stared at her. Not a word spoken after the initial “come in” when she met him at the door. She had been surprised to be given the address for her interview~ it was at the most exclusive neighborhood in town. ¬†The house, mansion really, was enormous. She tried not to imagine herself as a maid here; she was hoping for a personal assistant. The pay promised had been pretty darned generous; certainly well over what she had made at her last job. Yet, here she sat, in this beautifully appointed office, surrounded by bookshelves, antiques, and expensive what-nots, while being stared at by the man who would, hopefully, become her employer.

After 5 long, embarrassing minutes, his rusty voice almost startled her.

“When can you start?”

She blinked, caught off guard. He was hiring her? Or was this an inquiry?

“As soon as you need me to, Sir,” she had responded. The watery blue eyes had blinked, then he nodded.

“Sir? You’ve not told me what you need me to do…” the caustic look almost alarmed her. She swallowed.

“You’ll be caring for my pets. I have a very large, private aquarium. You’ll be responsible for keeping the viewing area clean and tidy. I often have private viewings for friends and associates. You’d be responsible for setting up chairs etcetera. Making sure the lights work, that sort of thing. Please come back tomorrow. Dress casual. That,” and he waved his bony hand at her, “is far too much. Shorts, tee-shirt, that sort of thing. You’ll need to go into the tank occasionally, just to clean around the top.”

“Oh. You don’t have sharks, I hope!” she giggled nervously.

He blinked owlishly at her. “No. Horrid creatures. No sharks.”


She’d arrived when he told her. A sheaf of papers needed to be signed. Social security number. Address, bank for direct deposit, identification forms, yada, yada, yada. So many papers. She stopped looking at them, fanned them out, signed them all.

He took them, checked each page for signatures, dated them, and arranged them precisely in order. Attaching a clip to them, he put them into a manila folder, and slid it into his bottom drawer.

“This way.”

He indicated that she lead the way out the door. They went to the back of the house, and then up a flight of stairs. And more stairs. Three full flights up and she was breathless. There was a heavy door at the top of the landing.

“Go on, then,” he gestured to her. She tugged it open. Saw the guards -they had to be guards,-on either side of the door. And then she saw the tank. She heard the door thunk shut behind her.

“You need to be naked.”

“I’m not going to be naked.” She whirled around and stared at her boss. “Mr. Withers, this is not what I agreed to at all.”

“Ms. Butler? This is¬†exactly what you signed up for. I have 18 pages, all with your signature on them, downstairs to prove it. William can help you if you feel the need. He’s very good at undressing women.”

She glanced over at the guard who must be William. The leer was unmistakeable. No way was she letting him touch her.

“I am paying you a great deal of money to do this task. I believe I mentioned that I needed someone who could follow through, and be dependable in my ad. You assured me that you were. I can assure¬†you that if you don’t work, you won’t be paid a penny.”

“I need this job….”

“Then do it. Naked. Now. If I understand correctly, your unemployment runs out in 10 days, yes?”

He twisted the knife of fear so well. With a little huff of breath, she all but tore off her tee-shirt. She didn’t want to take off her shorts. But somehow they were pooled around her ankles. She stepped free of them. She stood there in bra and panties. He stared at her. With a roll of her eyes, she unhooked her bra, shimmied out of her panties.

He walked her over to the side of the tank. It was bigger than anything she had ever seen in her life. There was ….something huge swimming in the tank.

“Oh my gawd. Is that…is that….”

“A giant squid. Rare, extremely rare. He is one of only a few dozen left in all the world. He needs special care. And you, my dear, are here to provide it for him. You need to go into the tank and let him get used to you.”

“I’m not going in there!” she gasped.

“Indeed, you will.”


She fell with a splash, her ass hitting the water first. She’d expected it to be shocking and cold, but it was, instead, warm, comfortable. Not hot, not unpleasant in the least. She rose to the surface, grabbed a lungful of air.

“You BASTARD!” she yelled at William, who stood at the edge of the tank with a shit-eating grin on his face. Her tirade was ended before it began when something curled around her ankle and tugged her under the water.


Thank you Donna! (aisha, that’s all the warning you get! LOL!) oh, and p.s…..this is verrah long…no serializing this one! ~n~

She’d been fascinated by the sea her entire life. Perhaps it was all the treks to Cape Cod with her mom and aunts and gram as a child. Summers were lazy days spent in the hot sun and cool surf. There were quiet times, and excitement….nothing got the summer visitors going more than shark sightings, unless it was when a pod of whales cruised off the southernmost tip of ¬†Provincetown. ¬†From the Pilgrim Tower you could see Massachusetts bay to the west, and the deep green-blue of the open Atlantic to the East, skirting the white, white sands curling south, until it turned westward back towards the bulk of the Massachusetts coastline.

She had many memories of those foggy morning walks with the surf whispering at her feet, catching sea stars and tossing them back into the water, or surprising a family of sandpipers, running on their funny legs at the white frothy edge where water met sand.  She remembered sand between her toes, as well as in a lot of other less desirable places, and the beating of the sun on her upturned nose, turning the part in her blonde hair pink.

When she graduated High School, she spent her last summer on the Cape with her womenfolk, then headed off to college to study marine biology. Trekking around the world at Spring or Winter break, she spent time in tropical islands, and one memorable school-sponsored trek to Madagascar.

Now she swam at in the deep blue waters above the Great Barrier reef. Marine life abounded here, and she’d had several thrilling adventures already. There was a purported count of some 1,500 different fish, ¬† as well as sea-snakes, mollusks, and three varieties of sea turtles. ¬†Thus far her favorite sightings included the white-sided dolphins that frolicked in these waters.

It stunned her.

The reef, immense and diverse, was teeming with life. Every dive held its own special fascination. Today, Marc was taking her out, just her and just him. It was, to her mind, almost a date. No scheduled classes, no itinerary.  No diving today, the idea was that they would just snorkel along the surface, and merely observe the goings on in the reef below, without actually becoming part of it.

She knew Marc was hoping to see the giant squid that was rumored to exist here at the outermost edges of the great reef.  There were no other boats out this early in the day, just them, and the burgeoning disk of the sun rising through clouds.

“Red sky in morning, sailor take warning,” she chanted to herself. They’d have to keep an eye to the sky. The small boat sat calmly in the sea as dawn broke around them.

“Ready?” At her nod, Marc looked her up and down. Her bikini showed her lovely breasts to perfection, full, ripe and round. The briefs were, in point of fact, very brief. He wasn’t sure why, he’d certainly swum with other nubile college girls over his career, but this one? Made him nervous as hell.

They slipped into the water, their swimfins barely making a splash as they kicked away from their boat. The sea was warm, nearly hot, a caress across their skin. Summer in the southern hemisphere meant heated seas, mating flush in all the creatures, the¬†burgeoning¬†of life, ¬†even as the northern hemisphere shivered in the chill of a January snowstorm. Together they moved through the water, peering into the still-dark depths. Occasionally her belly was tickled by an inquisitive fish, or she would catch the dark shape of something swimming under her. The sky was still pink and plum and russet with dawn, keeping the ocean’s depths a mysterious secret.

Once again, there was that caress along her belly. She shivered, smiled over at Marc.

“Fish are ticklin”

“The price you pay for that micro-kini you’re wearing! You could go back to the boat and put on a ‘skin…?” He let that hang there a moment, trying to not let her see the “gods don’t let her want to go back and cover up” in his eyes. ¬†She filled out that ‘kini…the woman was stacked. The little triangle of fabric did little to cover sumptuous tits. The equally small bottom triangle gave a tantalizing peek at plump lower lips. She was not a skinny minnie; he loved that she had the guts to wear a bikini with a softly rounded tummy…it showed that she didn’t give a fuck what society thought, that she was comfortable with who she was. Maybe it was that, that comfort with herself that intrigued him so.

What he wouldn’t give to be one of those fishes slicking down that body!

She shook her head no, then flicked her fin at him as she pushed ahead. He tried not to stare at the round full globes of her ass, the muscles in her strong legs pulling his attention up, around, and towards that dark triangle that beckoned him like…like no other had in a long while.

Every time he was around her he felt a bit awkward, a bit nervous, and a lot horny. It was unnerving that a student would make¬†him feel like the junior geek here. He knew she was not trying to entice him, that she was a sexy woman who had never “put the moves on” any of her teachers. She got ahead by her smarts, her drive, and her love of her subject.

“Ooohhh,!” she giggled, turning her head to look back at him. And caught him staring right at her ass. Marc flushed. She stopped swimming, treading water.

“Like what you saw, Prof? Geeze.” She blushed. Her heart ticked up a notch. He¬†saw her. It gave her a tickle between her legs, a soft, wet throb. ¬†She’d never, ever made a move on a teacher, yet she saw Marc differently.

“Actually, I did.” They stared at each other, floating in the warm, sapphire sea. She tread ¬†water, holding her place, as ¬†they looked at one another. Each wondered if they should reach out, and touch. ¬†She felt the tickle on her thigh, and wriggled. His eyes widened. She wondered if it was from the sight of her tits bobbling in the water. There was that tickle again. She splashed at the water, trying to startle the fish. Marc uttered a short “what the fuck?” as he caught the brunt.

“I’m sorry! Not you! These damn fish are …” abruptly her voice cut off, and she gave a short yelp. Something was coiled around her ankle. They were too high to be caught in Sargassum weed, so what the fuck was on her? She kicked her foot, and felt something on her other leg.

“Marc!” she yelped, kicking. He was turned away from her, and she yelped again. “MARC!”

He turned his head, glassy-eyed. “Something…” he grunted, a look of startled surprise on his face.

“Marc…” she moaned then, feeling a soft bite on her inner thigh, cutting off her plea. ¬†She felt a probing at her bikini bottom. ¬†She whimpered aloud as something…something slick and cool rubbed along her vulva, down along her lower lips. There were…suckers there, snagging on her flesh, already aroused from the flirting with Marc. ¬†She felt a sting where the bite was, and then a feeling of floating, and an incredible feeling of arousal. Her clit jolted to attention, her nipples engorged, and she felt a wet hot slickness leak from her cunthole. Her hips made little undulations in the water as her body invited the invader in.

The fat thing that filled her was a cock. A very different kind of cock. It was tapered, and she felt that tapered tip twisting and twining inside of her. Impossibly, it had found her ‘spot’, and rubbed it relentlessly. Her orgasm made her arch back in the water, and she sank up to her chin as she came harder than ever before. She kicked feebly with her legs, but found herself floating when she stopped. ¬†More probing along her slit became pressure against her asshole. She shook her head, her hair floating like a golden halo in the water behind her.

“No no no noooooo,” she muttered, trying to push it away. She felt things twining around her wrists, her arms, pulling her back. Legs…tentacle legs, wrapped around her torso, her throat. Tips of legs rose up in the air then rubbed against her tits. She bucked, but was held too tightly. There was a sudden surging thrust into her ass and pussy, and she screamed. Her asshole throbbed, even as her cunt bucked into another orgasm. The wriggling invader in her ass pressed upward, twirling up into her gut. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, torn between the pleasure in her pussy, and the pain in her asshole. She was stretched, deeply, fully with the thickness inside of her. Her ass throbbed, setting off another shockwave of sensation, another ripple of her belly as she climaxed. As she gasped for breath, one questing tentacle found her nose, pressing up and inside.

“NOOO,” she moaned, tossing her head in a futile attempt to dislodge it. A second slender tip found her other nostril, and slid inside. She felt the tickle at the back of her throat. She coughed, gagging as one tendril pressed deeper, probing. Her head was tugged backwards by the feelers in her nose, and she arched in the water, out of control. The cock working in her belly pressed hard against her cervix and she moaned. Pain and pleasure commingled, and she felt a hot wet thickness building inside of her. It, whatever it was, was coming inside of her. She felt the dripping of fluid down the back of her throat, and the tightening around her tits as tentacles thrashed in the air before wrapping her more tightly in their grasp.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Marc, also floating, one thick tentacled arm filling his mouth.

“Marc,” she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. The bobbling waves should have spread them away from each other, yet they hung here in the waters not far from their boat.

The thing in her ass began to thrust. A second cock? How many of these creatures were on her? There was a slither against her hip. It pulled up out of the sea, and she stared in horror, ¬†looking into the eyes of the slimy creature as it slid up her belly. This one too, had a protuberant cock. It’s tentacles grasped her tits, suctioning onto her nipples and sticking against her as deeply as possible. She moaned. She saw its maw, open wide, tasting and exploring her belly, working towards her captive tits. ¬†It found the swollen orb of her, settled around her protuberant flesh. There was a shocking and intense sucking at her nipple, then a bite. Heat, lust, rampant need exploded in her.

Primed, she spasmed. The water around her clouded with her cum, and theirs. She was writhing now, desperate for sex. The fucking in her pussy and ass redoubled, perhaps one cock, perhaps more, fighting to press into her belly and deposit its milky spoor. She was bloated, full, as the cock before her began to thrash towards her mouth.


Marc could not believe what he saw as Jules bobbled in the water, could not believe what he felt as he too was entrapped by a group of groping tentacles. ¬†What the¬†fuck?¬†he wondered, attempting to push them away. His hands were quickly wrapped together in one strong coil; despite the cool slippery mass, they were incredibly tough. He felt the first tickle along his thigh, then his calf. The bite was less annoying than an mosquitoes, but in seconds his semi-soft cock went fully rigid. Painfully rigid. Tenting out the front of his swimshorts, he felt the first flicker of panic as a tentacle…was it only one?… slid up inside the left leg of his shorts.

The grip around his balls was painfully tight. He moaned, and a tentacle slipped between his lips and down his throat. He could breathe, barely, and panic sent his heart racing. He felt the lapping of water around his cock.

Where the hell had his pants gone?

He forgot about them as something cool, tight, viscous settled around his shaft. ¬†It felt like fingers massaging along his length. He was hard, harder than he’d ever been, and there was a feeling of sucking along the crown, the hole, the ridge of his head. His hips jolted in the water, fucking. He would have moaned but for the tentacle silencing him.

He swallowed, a thick ooze was leaking from the tentacle and dripping down his throat. He tried to scream as another probed his asshole, then pressed insistently upwards. His rectum was stretched, painfully. His eyes closed as his shitpipe was violated, the deep questing probe thrusting, fucking his ass, even as his own cock was getting worked over. The clenching around his balls was making them feel like his nutsac was going to explode; his cock was painfully rigid, and sucked so hard it, too, was painful.

Yet even as he wondered if a guy could die from having his nuts crushed by a squid, they were released. He felt the upsurge of his own orgasm ricochet up his cock, and explode from inside his fuck-tube, into places unknown.  The world went black for a minute, but he roused as  another moved onto him, biting him to erection, and fucking him senseless once more.


“I think she’s coming around.”

There was general laughter at that remark.

“Cumming being the operative word, ey mate?”

Jules opened her eyes. She was alive? She felt heavy, thick-bodied. She was naked, but couldn’t make herself care. Several guys were standing around her; one crouched down and held out his hand.

“How many fingers, darlin’?”

“Two.” her voice croaked. “Marc?”

“Oh, your mate? He’s fine now, below decks having some food. C;mon up with you now, darlin’, let’s get you into something more proper then, aye? Then we’ll give you a snack and set you two back to rest, ay?”

She swallowed, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. There was a coursing of wetness as she rose, leaking from between her legs. One of the men held a bowl there, catching the liquid.

“They liked you, girl,” growled one, observing the amount of liquid in the bowl. It had a faint golden color to it.

She felt the blush rise from her toes. She would have moved forward, but a hand pressed hard against her belly, as if to drain her.

“Just a little more, darlin’.”

A daring pair of lips lapped up her inner thigh.

“Andrew!” admonished their leader, as he held her there. “It’s a powerful aphrodisiac, darlin’. The Japanese pay top dollar for any squid semen we can collect.”

He led her down to the galley, where a pale-faced Marc sat, eating. A sailor sat on each side of him.

“Now that you’re both here, I’ll explain what happened to you, and tell you where we go from here.”

“The squid that attacked you, the Aussie Dumping Squid it’s called, are notorious sex-fiends. ¬†They mate for hours at a time, and have lately begun to prey on humans who venture into the water at dawn, or dusk. Their mating season is just for a few more weeks, and it appears that they very much enjoyed you two. We’ve tried collecting the cum by grabbing the squid, but it won’t release. And the two others we found in your situation were barely touched. It appears they like you.”

Marc and Jules looked horrified. She’d been fucked by squids? Plural?

“So we’ll feed you up to keep your calories and fluids up, and tonight at dusk we’ll drop you both in again. Let them fuck you silly, reel you in, drain your holes, and let you sleep.”

“It’s only a few more weeks, mates. You’ll have the fucking time of your lives, and vacation memories of¬†Australia¬†to last a lifetime!”

Sex Dreams

(this is what happens to a very horny slut when she hasn’t had an orgasm since Tuesday…hint, hint, Master….)

“I know, it’s terrible isn’t it?”

The hum fills the air, and the space between her open legs. Head tosses restlessly, while the legs try to move, try to close from the stimulating touch.

“Right there…oh, yes…can you feel yourself? You’re trying to push against it. Little slut, I know. You want more. Your head says ‘no’ but your cunt, your dirty little slutty cunt? It’s begging ‘yes, yes’. ”

The vibe is pressed hard against sensitive flesh. A garbled moan comes from a gagged mouth.

“Hmmm, yes, where pleasure becomes torture, I know.”

A chuckle fills the room, rising over the persistent hum of the toy pressing against her clit.

“I see you, you know. Squirming. You want to move away. Can’t. Tied too tight to close your legs and protect your poor assaulted clit. Your horny cunt, on the other hand, is drooling. Feel all that juice on the vibe? Oh, deny, deny. That’s not lube…at least, not¬†my lube, you little whore. It’s¬†your juice. You are wet, fucking wet. You can pretend, Mz. Prissy-pants, that you didn’t want this. Yet here you are, oozing cunt cream.”

“Here, hold this. Time for part two!”

His voice is cheery and her heart escalates. She cannot see what He is doing, the blindfold is tight. She feels the hum as he presses the tip of the vibe into her, braces the end against the mattress so she cannot push it out. The bed shifts as he moves away, then shifts again as he returns.

“There is always, always a price to be paid for pleasure, slut.”

For a moment there is only the sound of her labored breath around the gag, and the taunting hum of the vibe. A pinch on her tit, her nipple. His hands are sticky, and warm. The hard bite of something on her left nipple makes her groan into the uncaring rubber ball pressed deep into her mouth. Her wince allows a stream of drool to slide out the corner of her lip, and create a thick, wet trail down the side of her jaw to her throat. The hard slap against her other tit startles again.

“This first nip, ah, that one just gets a sip of pain. Pleasure and pain. So tasty. You’ll grow to love it, trust me. But this nip?”

There is a hard flick against her right nipple; despite her fear and rage, she feels it rise at his touch.

“This nipple? Gets lots of pain. We’ll start with two. But there will be more. Many more before I’m done with you.”

“OH, look. How very pretty, your nipple all perverted and pinched up like that. Luscious. And …oh, look how wet it is down here. A veritable¬†river of cunt ooze. Tsk, what a dirty little cunt you are. Acting all high and mighty, no sex, first date. And here you lay. Open, cunt soaked, and wanting. You want to be fucked, I know. I see the lips of your swollen cunt, begging for cock. I’m not ready yet.”

The vibe is pulled out of her pussy, and pressed firmly against her clit. She growls, and tries to move away but she is bound too securely for movement. Her head flails, her fingers open and close into fists against the headboard. Her body thrums, her clit screams, her nipples throb. When he slaps the tit with just one clamp, she screeches behind the gag, screeches when he strikes it again. He slides the vibe deep into her pussy and fucks her hard with it. No words, just the hum of the vibe and the squiching sounds coming from her pussy.

She wants to fight it, but she feels it coming…coming…


(sex dream two)

It starts the moment i enter the room. His fist in my hair, as i step through the door, halting me in my tracks. I wince, and moan. It hurts, and it was unexpected. No tender kisses and hugs to reconnect. His hand, in my hair, violently, hard.

He takes my bag from me, my purse.

“The brush. Where’s the brush?”

I reach into the bigger bag, pull out the brush, hand it to Him.  I hear my bags hit the floor behind me, against the closed door. He tugs my glasses off, and pushes me forward. I hear him put them on the desk as he propels me to the bed. I have a blurry, fleeting image of the 2nd bed, covered with his toys, before He is pushing me, face-first, to the mattress.

His hand presses my back; i go to my knees. The fist in my hair tightens a moment.


I nod; it’s a¬†minuscule¬†movement but he feels it. He lets go, and in seconds I feel cool air on my ass.

The first whap of the brush on my ass is incredibly painful and tears flood my eyes immediately, only to be wicked away by the bedspread. He hits me again. And again. Until I am crying into the uncaring bed. I hear the brush as He tosses it onto the other bed. It hits something with a metallic chink. Maybe SFCT or his belt?

He lifts me to my feet by my hair, spins me ’round, and kisses me hard as we fall onto the bed.


turned about, pushed down, tits first

straddling the corner of the bed

legs kicked apart

open, spread those fucking legs


straddle that corner…wider…that’s it

the feel of heat as he steps between -so hot. so intent.

*sounds of moaning*

i can’t

you will

but i….

you don’t want it

do you?

*shaking head, no*

you know it doesn’t matter

it’s not about what you want, little girl

it’s what I want. And I want your ass.

i know

I know, you’re all weepy and scared.

Doesn’t matter. It’s my ass.

yes Master *soft whimpers*

a squirt of lube

a finger inserted, fucking in and out

*sounds of soft moaning*

two fingers in pushing hard, deep, then


and a much bigger ‘something’ pressing in, in, in

with a pop

He is inside

mmmmso fucking good. Hot, tight.


*moaning, head tossing*

hurts, hurts, hurts

whaaaat? What are you saying?

Hurts….*hiss of pain*

It’s supposed to hurt. It’s just not as much fun if it doesn’t, you know.


muffled “yes Master” coming from the mattress.

Pressing hard, hard thighs banging into soft, bruised asscheeks. Ripples of pain.


the tingle.



nipples pucker tight, hands, cuffed behind, curl into fists. Back arches.

*intense moaning*

you’re such a dirty little girl.

you just came, you slut.

nodding, faint giggles through gasps as aftershocks ripple through


stronger clenching

yet another orgasm


wetting His leg

little fucking whore…

smile in his voice

matching the one pressed into the mattress



prisoner 639…step forward to the blue squares

Lacey took a step. Another. The pauses between steps were barely tolerated, she could feel the anxious need to prod her forward just before she took a step. At last each foot rested on a blue square. A translucent panel glowed softly between the blue tiles. She stood proudly, defiant despite her nakedness.

There was a faint whoosh of an airlock, and a grav-cuff descended from the ceiling.

prisoner 639, place your hands into the opening.

The portal swirled open. She didn’t want to put her hands in there. She surely didn’t. Waiting until the guardian was ready to strike her with the baffle, she placed her hands into the opening, and watched as the lock engaged. She felt the shimmer and pressure as the grav applied force to her. There was no way to remove her wrists from the unit until they released her.

A hiss emitted from the unit as it raised up and over her head, pulling her arms taut. At the same moment, the blue tiles softened and her feet sank into the now viscous fluid. Another hiss hardened it. She was stretched almost to the point of discomfort.

For a moment there was silence; then the blue panels holding her feet began to slide further apart. The pull on her shoulders and groin was intense. She winced as her legs were splayed wide. The translucent panel between her legs began to glow brighter, the protective cover pulled back, revealing what lay in wait.

She shook her head vehemently. She hadn’t known¬†this was to be her punishment. The collar around her throat took her voice, capturing all her words and screams before they could escape and upset the jury sitting in judgement. They were unseen, hidden behind the blue glass. Only the Bot-Judge was visible. ¬†It would interpret the law fairly, unbiased by human ¬†emotion.

you must answer each question. veracity is mandatory. biorhythms will determine falsehoods. punishment will be swift.

Swallowing hard, she nodded. The swift jolt of current running down her arms from the cuffs reminded her to speak her verbal ‘yes’, although only the ‘Bot would register it. The Jurors would ¬†see the print out on their screens. At least, that was what she had been told would happen.

you are 33 orbits


you have failed to register at the Center


you have not yet gestated


you are non-compliant because of religious freedom acts of choice


There was a series of clicks, whirrs, and other sounds as the machine assimilated the data. The same information was supplied to the Jury.

There was a whoosh from between her feet. She could barely bend her head forward, the pull in her arms overhead made such movement difficult at best. No! “NO” she screamed. Yet not a sound was heard in the room but those coming from the floor between her opened thighs.

judgement has been rendered. your religious affiliation is one of dubious veracity. there is reason to believe that this congregation is gathered solely to attempt to circumscribe the Law of Procreation. Therefore, since no suitable mate is listed on your manifest, you will be treated as a Detached Citizen.

She screamed as she watched the vile tube rise from the floor. Grotesquely larger than any human penis, it roughly resembled one. A slick film coated it, making it shimmer in the half-light.

She shivered at the touch of it against the warm folds of her lower body. It moved implacably upwards by whatever unseen controls guided it into her body.

She moaned as it speared through her lower lips and into her hole, pressing the fat thickness of it up into her belly.

you understand the procedure you are about to be sentenced to.

It didn’t sound like a question. In fact, she barely registered the ‘Bot speaking to her at all. Her attention was concentrated on the thing invading her vagina. It was so big. It stretched her uncomfortably. It was unyielding, unlike a real penis. There was no heat here, no veined ridges, no flaring head. She released a breath as it slid back down towards the floor. And cried out as it rose to fill her again.

The machine began to move with more rapidity, building up force and velocity in equal measure. It wasn’t long before her insides began to feel battered by the thing raping her.

She tried to pull her feet, her hands free, tried twisting her hips, but to no avail. She was stuck, impaled on the silver rod stroking into her. Had the thing had gotten bigger around as it fucked her?  Perhaps she was swelling inside from the endless thrusts.

pain stimulation will be applied. readings indicate your body is not responsive for the sowing.

A whoosh sounded and two clear cups fell from the ceiling. The guardian behind her moved forward to press first one, then the other against her tits. He made certain all of her flesh was pressed into the cone, before depressing a button on his wrist unit. Looking into her face, he smirked at as her head fell back and lips parted. ¬†He drank in her silent gasps of pain as the cups began to suction her breasts, pulling them deeply into the base of the cone. ¬†Tiny electric jolts were applied to her nipples as they were sucked into the little slot for them. Tears slipped down her cheeks at the shocking pain. He leaned forward and licked one from her cheek. His breath tickled her ear as he whispered one word, ‘soon’.

readings indicate that the breast binders are appropriately stimulating your gestational juices. Fertilization will commence.

The beast buried in her pussy began pumping fast and deep. The pain in her tits made her clit throb. She was moaning constantly now, though no sound carried in the room other than the wet sucking sounds from her pussy, and the hiss of the machine sucking on her breasts.

She cried out when she felt a probing at her asshole. The guardian hissed into her ear “the ‘Bot doesn’t monitor me or your asshole, you fucking reb”.

His finger poked into her body, then two, then three. She felt the pull and tug of his fingers, another in the cacophony of sensations flooding her. She screamed as she felt his cock forcing its way up her undefended butthole.

readings indicate full readiness for sowing. you will now be inseminated.

She felt the fat tip of the machine pressed painfully hard against her cervix; the sudden rush of fluids into her body. The phallus was thick enough that no fluids escaped; her belly was filled. She felt bloated, almost sick at the painful dumping of fluids into her womb. The cock in her ass sawed steadily in and out of her asshole. She was stretched to the brink and her silent screams went unheeded except for the titillated Jury members.

The metal probe was released from her body after two hours. Every guardian had dumped a load of cum into her asshole. She was nauseous; her lower body was one throbbing ache.

you will be escorted to the preparation rooms until gestation is confirmed. if there is no gestation, you will return here in 48 hours to repeat the procedure.

Her hands were released from the grav-cuffs, shoulders screaming with the shock of movement after being held so long. ¬†Her feet were unmolded from the Secure-Blox. The Judge-‘bot issued one last order as she was led out of the court room by a guardian.

Go forth, be fruitful, and multiply.


this was inspired by a few of my favorite writers, Will Crimson, and Monocle over at Erotic Writers. They often write of forced insemination, and i wanted to try my hand at it. I’m certain my recent evolution (revolution??) ¬†into reproductive rights ¬†played a role as well.¬†

And…….If you have been reading Felicitations, there is a new chapter up there now, and another one will be added later this afternoon. ¬†~n~


for sin…just in case you thought i wouldn’t? i did! ¬† just in case you thought i couldn’t…hell yes i did!! oh, there is a dragon here, but he’s small and cute and fuzzy….just sayin’….

They thought it was  a fucking riot.

Letting her play poker, at her endless begging. Going to “help” her learn to play the game, they’d said.

“It’s like this, girl,” her Master had said. “We’re going to teach you the hard way. School of hard knocks way. You lose, you lose your shirt. Got it?”

She had thought He’d meant her cash, or some metaphoric “lose your shirt,” not the real-deal, “off with the pretty top, girl” kind of thing.

She should’ve known better of course, HE always meant what He said, and if she had a question she should have asked it at the outset.

She shivered as the a/c drew goosebumps along her spine, down her tits, hardened her nipples.

“I wanna suck them.” Her Masters best friend, Max couldn’t take his eyes off her big hard nipples, her round and full tits.

“Go ahead,” He said, waving a hand negligently. Her eyes widened. He had always promised this…”someday”…slut, someday.

Today was “Some Day”, apparently.

Max didn’t need to be asked twice. He all but leapt from his chair, ¬†and grabbing a fistful of hair, pulled her from hers. ¬†Bending her into an arch, his lips and teeth explored her left tit. Nips and sucking drew pain-and-pleasure points along her flesh. Where his lips left a damp trail, gooseflesh rose in the chill air of the room. She shivered.

“She looks hot for old Max, ” ¬†Ethan said, laying his hand on the table. “I’m wondering about using her as your kitty.”

Her Master raised an eyebrow at her, smiling that wicked smile that turned her on, and turned her knees to jelly.

“You think I should use my pussy as my kitty?” He said, amused. That drew a short, hard laugh from Adam. ¬†“So, what to you propose, gentleman? Winning hand gets a hole?”

There were nods and smiles around the table. Max sat down with her on his knee, fondling her tits.

“Max, no playing with the kitty” her Master admonished.

His smile widened as she was pushed to the floor between Max’s thighs.


She ached. Her jaw throbbed, from sucking cocks to the point of absolute hardness.

Her asshole throbbed, from taking three cocks, hard and deep, as her Master encouraged them to “use the little fucktart well”.

Her pussy was wet from the last fucking, her Master’s cum leaking down her thigh.

Her face was pressed against the coffee table, her tits mashed under her, her knees on the floor.

She was tied, thighs spread wide, each leg attached to a table leg, her arms tied over the table. She was open and available for use.

The poker game was long forgotten. Cans of beer, empty now, littered the living room.  The television was on, turned to the football game. The game was in the throes of overtime, the hometown team fighting hard to recapture the ball as the opposing players pushed downfield.

Max had left after a call from his girlfriend, so Master and his two remaining friends took a break from tormenting her, and were eating pizza.

The smell of it tantalized. Her thirst was unquenched.

She knew better than to interrupt an overtime game, however.  She inhaled deeply, slowly, when the sound of the back door opening and closing startled her out of her mindfulness meditation.

There was yapping, and the sound of nails scrabbling across the floor, and an annoyed mans voice.

“Goddamn¬†it, you dumb fuck dog, get down!” Max was back. ¬†“I’m baaa-ack” he hollered to the guys as he strolled through the kitchen, stuffing ¬†pizza in his mouth.

“Ssssh!” came the roar from three throats as they watched to see if the fucking upstarts would capitalize on a penalty call that gave them 5 extra yards.

“FUCK!” They yelled almost in unison as the runningback zinged through the defensive line like a hot knife through butter, making yet another first down, and crossing in to the 49th yard on the home teams side.

She jolted as a cold, wet nose pressed against her thigh and began to sniff up her leg.

“Hey!” she burst out, wiggling her ass as best she could. “Hey, mutt, cut it out…”

Max came over as if to pick up the offending pooch. Her Masters voice came from over her head.

“No, leave it. I wanna see what happens next. Worlds smallest dog licks pussy?”

“He’s a licker,” Max said, “Michaela is always pushing Him away. Yeah, I know Wellington, all you want is a taste of pussy, dontcha, boy. Even if you are a dumb fuck of a dog.”

The dog sat back on his haunches, looking for all the world like he was grinning.


“Damned¬†Pomeranian’s,” Max grumbled. ¬†His girlfriend had pipe dreams of raising a championship dog. He’d wanted a pug but no. She wanted Poms.

“What kind of a guy walks around with one of those at the end of a leash? I wanted a mans dog.”

“A gay guy? Now shut the fuck up…overtime, man.”

At a quick hand-gesture from Max, Wellington resumed his sniff-and-lick up her leg.

It tickled.

It was warm where his tongue lapped, then cold when he moved on. She shivered. His tongue drew closer to her pussy. And closer. The faintest brush of the edge of his lapping on her plump and swollen outer lip.

She gasped, and he drew back, unsure what to make of this human spread before him, yet half-expecting that push and “go away Wellington” that he always got from his mommy.

He looked around the room, at the men watching the talking box, and the one staring at him, with sharp eyes and a smile. Taking that smile for encouragement, Wellington stepped up on the back of her calf, and lifted up to the delightful smelling aperature before him.

He licked, he lapped, he all but shoved his nose into the tasty, warm hole. So good. He licked. So good! He lapped.

His tongue burrowed deeply up inside the hole, and for a second, he felt the squeezing clench around him. Almost instantly he was rewarded with a gush of the sweet and sticky fluid.

She was moaning like crazy.

The fucking dog licked her pussy and she came.

Her Master lifted her face by her hair.

“You really are a fucking bitch now, aren’t you, slut?” His cock was hard and heavy in his hands as he moved towards her.

As the dog kept up his attentions on her pussy, her Master began to slowly fuck her mouth. She came again, faster, harder than before. She tried to tell Him it was too much, but her mouth was full of cock, and He was taking his time in taking his pleasure from her.

He knew what she wanted of course.

But really, this would be the tale of a lifetime, and a great story to share in the nursing home someday.

Not to mention sharing on her blog.

Ha ha!


So ya’ll likely read most of the same blogs i do, right? i mean, my blogroll is right over there to the right …

You’ll remember the flap that anon caused over at sins¬†a few days ago, about people over 40 and sex, and about dominance and abuse and submission and wimpy women/men…blah blah blah. i’m not gonna rehash it all here, it’s been said by all the commentors there and at a similar ‘attack’ if you will, over at Mick’s blog.

It’s pretty obvious that anon is young. She is contentious and rude and snarky, which is upsetting enough…but her ongoing sentiment that sex is only for the young?

First it stuck in my craw, pissed me off. And then i got the humor of it. Oh, my gawd, if only she knew…and if she lives long enough, someday she might. I’m putting it out there now:

I am 52. Fifty-two.

And i’m having more sex (and better, more satisfying sex) now than at any other period in my life. Ever.


That includes, btw, the thrill of masturbating to orgasm, when Master allows me the privilege. Something which i never did when i was young coz i was a “good” girl…and it was “bad” to touch yourself.

I hope today’s generation begins to love their bodies, and understand that we are inherently sexual beings. Our purpose as higher mammals isn’t only¬†to procreate…but to recreate! We are one of the few mammals that play games. Create them, play them. ¬†Recreational sex falls into that category, for me anyway. It’s good. It’s fun! It’s enjoyable…and i believe we’re hardwired for it.

So the title of this post is “graphic”. ¬†Because all of this beginning stuff right here? It is …the¬†prequel, i guess, ¬†to what, by some accounts, might be oversharing. OH, i’ve given you glimpses. Tastes and tidbits, ¬†a bit here a bit there. But today i want to go deeper, try to show you, anon, since i know you read here, too, that sex between consenting adults over 50 ¬†is hot. Steaming, smoking, writhing with heat. Just so you don’t think life should end at 29 (btw…have you ever seen Logan’s Run? just a thought…)


He takes me from the bathroom, where i have dressed sexy for His pleasure and mine. I strut across the room in the 6 inch red heels, the skirt of my black lace outfit flirting with my ass, under His watchful gaze. I reach the far wall, and turn, then cross back at His silent gesture.

He hands me the velcro cuffs…the pair that slide up my legs, tighten at my thigh, and the matching pair for my wrists. He clips each wrist to each thigh. He slips the blindfold over my eyes. Here is where the trust enters fully. Trust, as well as ¬†love, are always present when we are together, but… Blindfold marks the start of our “scene time.” I trust that He will hurt me…i want that, after all, as does He. But i also trust that He will not harm me, my body or my spirit.

When we are together, He is always the Dom, and i am always the sub. But during ¬†blindfold time, there is a different…tenor to my submission. Less playful girlfriendy…more fully submissive. He takes me by my hair and wrist, and pulls me across the room, and bends me over his lap.

The spanking happens here, and the pinching. And the assessing. He feels how wet i am. He tells me that i have wet his pantleg with my juices. My ass is burning, the crack ouchy with bruises from his pinching, and i’m upsided downed on his lap…smiling. I feel the throbbing between my thighs, and know how badly i need.

I want.

I want desperately  to be fucked. To cum. To explode for Him. He pulls me up by my hair, and i feel my juices run down my thighs. Hair pulling, this level of control and dominance turns me on so much.

I want.

Already the endorphins have made me high, and i’m disoriented from being ass-end up for so long. He snaps the heavy metal clamps on my nipples, the chain cold against my belly as it sways. He’s moving me across the room, placing me precisely. ¬†He shoves me down, hand firmly between my shoulder blades. Face down on the bed, one leg straddling each corner, knees just above the floor. My pussy is pressed into the corner point of the mattress, my hands uselessly strapped to my splayed legs. My clamped nipples are pressed hard into the mattress and i feel the shivery connection between them and my aching, needy cunt. I am bound now to His desire, His wants.

I have no fucking idea what is coming next. He is silent, yet i feel Him, the heat of Him between my legs. His hand is between my cheeks, spreading me.

And i know.

I know what is happening.

There is no preamble. OH, He uses lube…for His pleasure, ease of entry…i feel the cold drizzle of it as it trails between my buttmoons. So cold i shiver…or is it the nervous anticipation of what is coming? ¬†There is no prep. No butt plug to slowly loosen my asshole. The head of His cock slicks through the lube trail. And presses. Steadily. Without undue roughness, but considerable intent.

His way.

His cock presses inside and a gasp slips from me…a gasp, and a moan. Pain, yes, but i’ve been so turned on for so long, and no fingerfucking, no vibe, no relief since the blindfold went on.

I crave Him. Even this. As He slides up inside my bowels, i am moaning with the burning pain of it…that never ends, really, and then as always when i’m being butt-fucked…the first orgasm SLAMS into me.

There is no warning.

There is no slow and steady build up, that trembling tumble over the edge. No twinkling of my clit, of my inner muscles to warn me. Just abrupt, intense convulsions of my cunt around the nothing there.

He feels it, buried in my ass. Moans, and grunts happily.

Tells me i’m such a dirty slut, cumming with his cock stuffed up my buttpipe. And it happens again. I cum. I …more than cum. I explode. I’m squirting all over the bed, feeling the covers soaking underneath me.

There is no memory i have of “how many” orgasms i had then. He says he fucked my ass for the better part of an hour. I remember little after the fourth or fifth orgasm. It’s a blur of pain, of pleasure, of wants met. The remembered Heat of Him between my legs, His hands pressing down on my back, almost like ¬†backwards cpr, ¬†while he fucked me that way.

Later, long later, He slapped my ass and made me crawl up to the middle of the bed. I thought He was done..  His erection spent, played out in the cavern of my ass.

Silly slut.

¬†He had a new toy. One i didn’t see ¬†for hours…but i felt it.

A dual insertion vibrator.

Over and over again, He continued fucking into my sore and tired asshole. . . and my needy pussy. The hummmmm of the vibe is a low counterpoint to my mewling crying. No sotto voiced slut, my voice rose and fell all over the vocal register as i came.

And came again.

For hours He played His games with my body. Finally i was near unconscious, so far out in subspace that only the sweet beloved timbre of His voice pulled me back.

Over the course of nine hours, i had more orgasms than you could imagine, anon. When it was time to go, i was sore, throbbing, sated, relaxed, tired, and gawd. . .

So fucking happy.

I wish that for you, anon, that kind of intense, fulfilling happiness. If you’ve got it already, good on you.

But so do i.

So do lots of us.

So lets share the happy. Its fine that you find your bliss in your vanilla bed. But it’s equally fine that i find mine, graphically, in a darker place.