Masturbation Fantasy

 It was Tuesday, our “Like” Day…a special day in our week when we connect. This one was tainted by my fuck up over the weekend, and I simply was not certain what would come of the day that has been “ours” for nearly 2 years. But once again, Master surprised me. It was the day we made up, when things were settled. When we texted each other and resolved the biggest issue. Later, as the dust settled, He allowed me an orgasm…I always get an orgasm on Like Day…but there were parameters. I had to create a fantasy to masturbate to that would include ice cream…part of my punishment is that I can no longer have any without His express permission…which will be a long time coming. So the fantasy had to have ice cream in it. I crafted it in my head, then lay in bed and began it. It was a powerful orgasm, since I’d not had  any in many, many days; it was also a cathartic release of all the emotions that were still floating through my red head. 

Wednesday I wrote it down, exactly as it played out in my fantasy, exactly as I had done in in my bed (albeit substituting clothes pins for Masters mouth on my nipples). He liked it enough that He told me it is “bloggable” …High praise from my Master, indeed.  ~nilla~

You stood over me.

Glowering.

Hands tied over my head, feet apart.

“I could get twenty guys in here to fuck you. Use every hole, use it well. I could beat you, pound you into a pile of goo.”

I swallow hard. You’re not angry, you’re calm, firm, resolved.

I wonder what the fuck You’re going to do to me for my fuck up.

“Instead, I’ve brought just a few guests.”

You open the door and a woman stands there, holding a large ice cream cone. You go to your bag and pull out  two vibes. You cover one in a condom, squirt lube on my pussy.

“The lube carries the vibrations a lot more intensely” You say, almost to yourself.

“She will let the ice cream drip. All over you. ON your face, your hair, your tits. And she will lick it off you. You can smell it, feel it, do everything except taste it. This will be the last ice cream that your body will see, feel, experience until next summer…and only then if you are a good, very good, slut.”

She takes the dripping cone and holds it over me. where she stands, she blocks my view of You…but in moments I feel the pressure of one vibe on my clit. The second one roars to life and is gently inserted into my pussy.

“By the way. No fucking. You’ll have orgasms all right…but not one single bit of fucking. Bad girl.”

There is ice cream dripping on my cheek, my tit, my belly. She passes the cone over and over me. I feel You, taking a lick along the side of my tit, sucking hard on my nipple, then biting. I whimper, but not much sound comes from my duct-taped mouth. You have made certain that not one molecule of ice cream will pass my lips.

You play the second vibe over and around my clit and as I squirm, You press it hard against my tender bud…I’m moaning and trying to move and You bite my nipple as you torture my clit. There is pain and pleasure on both ends of my body.

Finally Your mouth leaves my nipple; You continue to play the vibe on my pussy, making sure the one firmly inside is still planted deep, while mauling my clit with the other. You whisper in my ear, as her mouth licks and laps the dripping ice cream on my body. It is torture AND a turn on , her warm mouth, the cold ice cream.

“nilla was a very, very naughty sub, yes?”

I nod, whimpering behind the sticky gag.

“nilla won’t make this mistake again, will she?”

I shake my head, vehemently,..NO no, I won’t.”

Your voice continues, the honeyed whisky of your tones at odds with the mean Dom things You say. “Maybe I’ll let Sir P fuck your ass next time. That would be some punishment, wouldn’t it? Or maybe a whole string of guys. One after another, using your ass, your pussy, your mouth…how ’bout that, huh?”

I whimper, shaking my head NO NO NO…this is NOT something that I want. Sir P’s cock already hurts my pussy…the thought of that…in my ass…. no…not a pleasant picture.

There is a plop and I arch up in shock…that bitch has dropped the rest of the ice cream onto my belly and is sucking and lapping it. I can smell it, and my mouth waters. I must swallow hard and fast so I don’t drown in my own juice. You had spoken of drowning me, after all….and it’s cold, so fucking cold. The dual vibes on and in me are making me come so close to cumming. My nipple hurts where You bit it, and I’m shivering with cold and lust…my clit throbs, painfully reminding me that i’m that close to orgasm…time to take away the stimulation…but you’ll have none of it…

*********

When I cum, it is intense, very wet…and I almost pass out with the force of it.

nilla was a very bad slut, Master.

Thank You for allowing me an orgasm on Like Day.

Pulling out My Hair…

…one strand at a time.

My life is so frikking CRAZY. Or maybe it’s just my kids MAKING me crazy.

*sigh*

(that should be a calming yoga breath. In. Out. In. Out. But right now? It more closely resembles  hyperventilation. Just sayin’….)

Today, (Tuesday as I write this and 11 pm…hey, didn’t I say I wasn’t gonna do this anymore???) I had two things on my agenda. Okay, three. Four tops.

1. finish putting together the renovated room (hanging pictures, primarily)

check. That’s done.

2. write.

um. no.

3. ironing

it was a COLD day here in New England..it’s 55 just now, and my fans are off and next week is the 4th of July and last week it was almost 100 in my room (and outside) CRAZY!!!

but no, the ironing didn’t happen, either.

4. laundry.

nope. pleasant surprise here…with number 2 son away at camp this week, the laundry hasn’t needed to be done every damned day (He is such a Beau Brummell!)

What did happen was a LOT…and I mean a LOT of squabbling with the two youngers. The house is back together, basically…but things are in different places, the room looks totally different from before and I’m getting ready to jump into the next room…

There was poking.

Then punching.

Then screaming.

Then tantrums.

And that was just me.

heh. Just kidding.

Seriously, they were off the frikking wall today. Some days are like that…but when they happen, I really can’t do much of anything but supervise them closely.

Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, with a trek into Beantown in the late afternoon (oh joy) (NOT).  And errands, and and and…

boring vanilla shit.

If this isn’t the saddest excuse for a sex blog post, I don’t know what is.

hmmm…sexy stuff?

I had a delightful conversation with Master Monday night, and we played a guessing game, and I wheedled an extra guess out of him…and won an Orgasm!

Of course He had to put his own sadistic stamp on it, with my clamps (which haven’t seen much action of late) and the chain in my mouth, and the vibe on high on my clit and all that good stuff…

All lead to a ginormous orgasm…

And I slept so wonderfully hard…it was wonderful.

And now, if I don’t get my ass in bed, I’m going to screw up my Tuesday orgasm…and that would suck giant turkey vulture balls.

(isn’t that a pretty picture? ewww. )

 

Okay, that’s gross. How about this picture instead?

Yeah…now *that’s* a sex blog post!

Choices…

The question was posited as I drove home from Yoga Wednesday night.

“Master, may I have an orgasm tonight?”

“I don’t know, nilla, ” he says, semi-exasperated. “You’re already so fucking spoiled, slut.”

I giggle. I am spoiled. I know it. I know there are other sluts out there who get way less orgasms than I do. Of course, there are those of you out there that get way more than me, but for once, smartly, I refrain from pointing that out to Him.

I was pulling Him away from His work. I knew it, but it was the only free time I had. I was late coz I had gone to a job interview (Yay!) right after yoga.

“I’ll text you later and tell you what I decide” He says in that “don’t fuck with Me” voice.

“Yes Sir,” I reply meekly.

I stayed up later than usual, winding up putting the house to bed before I went up to my room. I get there, set up my computer, strip, and retrieve my phone from its hidden nook.

And after checking for any message from Master, (there was none), set it to vibe.

Reception in my room is tricky; the phone usually rests on the bed right behind my ass as I sit and type. I opened my email program and my phone vibes.

Surprise!

Master texts “call”.

*********

The phone rings three times and then there is silence. Now, remember, phone service is sketchy at best in my little room. I’m saying “hellow? Hellow?” into the phone. Did it disconnect?

He laughs.

Fucker! He loves to play these little games. Dangle a phone call hook and see if I’ll jump into His bucket.

Of course I do! I want to be in that bucket.

Most times, anyway.

🙂

We talk, and He is wearing His “uber-Dom voice”  tonight. It’s…i dunno how to describe it, really. It’s more in the attitude, and a bit in the tone. When He transcends from “this is my friend, Master” to this is my Dom.

It sends shivers directly to my pussy to remember it.

He has decided to grant me an O.

And.

*long pause*

(and this, I freely admit, I brought onto myself. By sending Him an O report that…almost, kinda, a wee bit, complained about only getting one O, and not multiples. Like I said at the start. Spoiled slut.)

I have decided to give you more than one O tonight, slut. You may have…..

(another pause. The tension builds. And suddenly, I know what He is going to say. Gods. Be careful what you wish for. Especially with a sadist. Especially when that sadist is your Dom. Coz surer than hell He is going to pervert it. And torture you with it.)

….one…and a half orgasms, nilla. And I will be crystal clear on this…you must have the ONE orgasm first.

Then, you may enjoy your half orgasm.

And.

Small anal plug in your asshole. Clamps on the nips, pins on the belly. Towards the back, this time.

OH.

And…a two-minute cool-down before you go for the half orgasm.

I sit back against my pillows. Oh. Gods. I know how hard it is to do the 2nd part, the dreaded half-O.

Oh, and nilla?

“Yes, Master?” I say, thinking, ‘gawd, now what?’

I want you to take that half-O right to the fucking edge. Right. To. The. Edge.

but don’t you fucking dare go over and have an “oops”.

Don’t you dare slip over and have a little teeny O and tell me later that you ‘slipped’. No fucking way, slut.

Right to the trembling edge…and fucking stop!

My heart is racing. Oh. Gods.

Of course…. (His voice is silken and smooth now) you could also just not have any orgasm. Just skip it entirely. Friday isn’t that far away. (He laughs) If I decide that we *will* have a FNF….I could decide…*not* to. Your choice, slut.

“I want an O, Master. I want it bad enough to take the half O, You big meanie.”

He laughs.

The call ends soon after.

*********

I’m in bed and pinned and clamped and plugged. The choice of toys was mine and I chose vibes, two, and for a bit later use, the favored dildo. I’m tormenting my clit, just as He would, were we together. Touching, gently. Touching hard. Vibing on high, on medium. Changing it up, changing it down. Steadily climbing the mountain of lust and need. The 2nd vibe is shut down, the dildo starts its work, and the fantasy spins out.

In the room with Him, the Dom.

“Say it,” he growls at me. “Tell me you’d fuck anything. Anything I put in your pussy. You’d fuck the bed. You’d fuck the corner of the wall, you’d hump the dining room chair leg.”

I’m nodding, fucking hard. So close. So close. So close.

“You’d even fuck Pete’s Great Dane. If I told you to. You would, you horny fucking cunt. SAY IT. Tell me you’d fuck that dog. Tell me your needy little cunt would take that doggie cock in your pussy and fucking cum all over it, you little whore.”

I came, hard.

I had two mandatory minutes to cool down. I send Him a text. “The O was great” kind of text. Two minutes pass faster than one might think, as one tries to type with sticky, trembling fingers,  and when I got back to work, so to speak, I was still pretty turned on. It only took seconds to reheat.

Didn’t even have time to generate, or continue the fantasy. Just Bam! and I was right back up there. Fucking and coming closer. And closer.

I was trembling. Had the tingle.

I could have quit there.

But that wouldn’t have given Him what He had demanded of me. I was *almost* at the edge, but not quite that close.

My belly began to tighten. My thighs trembled. I could feel my breath catch. For a moment, time stood absolutely still, and then I could feel it.

The Orgasm wave was approaching, heading for my pussy like a tsunami of sensation.

I pulled the vibe away.

I pulled out the dildo, as a swordsman might pull the rapier from his victim’s body.  I lay there, gasping, crying, crying, fists clenched around the two toys, as my body …stopped.

Just hung there for a moment in time saying  “What the fuck?????!!!”

And in that moment, for that moment? I hated Him. Hated myself for needing this kind of torture, this kind of control.

I sent Him this text, in the throes of it all:

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck i almost hate you godds gods so fucking fucking FUCKING CLOSE!!!! DAMN DAMN DAMB

and then later, after I’d cooled a bit, settled a bit…this one:

Right to the fucking edge master. Dayam that was the hardest thing i have EVER  done

And then I fell asleep, stayed asleep, and woke in the morning, with Him planted even more deeply in my mind, my heart, my body.

Fuck Up!

Wednesday night, driving home from the City (and my yoga class), I called Master. I’d had a bit of a stressful day…nothing ginormous, mind you, but the kind of  “water over granite”  day that wears you down in subtle increments.

So, there I was,  talking to Master…asking Him a question.

And He didn’t answer me right away, and …

um.

I  snapped .  And what I said was rude, definitely not submissive, AND… (hangs head)   it was even *said* in a snarky voice:

“I just want to know if You want to meet in the morning or the evening Master, it’s a simple question.”

There was an immediate  response to that.

Whoa…what did I just hear? Was that nilla?

I tried to backpedal, but obviously way way WAY too late. He told me it was the kind of voice a man hears when he has to bring home milk and bread.

And He let that hang there.

I am not his wife.

I am not his partner.

I am not his equal.

I am not in charge.

I am nilla, and boy am I  a stupid slut.

We worked it out… he was…surprised. Startled. Put-off. Not mad. In 2.5 years, I have never spoken to Him like that. Ever.

He called me an Assertive. Salacious. Slut.

So I have a new acronym that I must use every Wednesday in texts and emails for infinity.

A.S.S.

*blush* Talk about a lesson on manners.

Now, on Wednesday night, sometimes I get an O, and sometimes…not.  I figured, mega fuck up, no O. I didn’t want to ask. But He kind of led me up to it as our conversation began to wind down, as I got closer to home. And I got that He wanted me to ask. I figured He wanted me to ask so that He could gleefully deny me, and I said as much to Him.

Oh, no, nilla. I want you to have an O. As a thank-you gift.

I pondered that for a bit.  “A thank you Master?”  I say at last.

Yes, nilla. I owe you a big thank you.  You see, nilla, I have a list. I keep  all your little …infractions…on it.  That way, if  someday I feel …guilty? No not guilty….If I  need motivation when I beat you, I can go to that  list, and read of your misadventures, and use that as inspiration. Ah yes.  Inspiration.

Of course today’s little episode is not the first thing on my list.

The first thing on my list is:   Because I can.

But this new thing? This ASS thing? That’s a big number two reason. I’m going to hit your ass so hard it’ll bruise in seconds.

I’m think about using  SCFT – blade side up on your well spanked ass to bring about immediate welts which I will then crush back into whence they came with SCFT flat/curved as it is intended to be used under Normal Torturous Conditions (NTC). But then again, thanks to your impromptu A.S.S move, NTC’s don’t really exist anymore – do they – n’est pas?

So, tonight’s O is a thank you for adding to the motivation to smack your ass.

I kind of giggle. I mean, this was somewhat amusing to me. Don’t ask me why, i have no idea. It just was.  I know, it’s weird. I allay it all to the stress of fucking up, to the dastardly thought of the FSCT being used on the thin side edge on my ass. He interrupts my puzzled musing and small giggles.

Oh, and nilla?

About that O…

Here it comes, I think. NOW He’s going to take it away. Ha. As if. When He’s on a roll? He’s amazing.

It must have pain. It must have LOTS and LOTS of pain. You’ll climb that mountain four times again…but with so much more pain. Tell me, little girl, what hurts you the most while you fuck your pussy? Hmmm?

I stutter a bit.

“Um…if I use two pegs on each nipple…that hurts a lot.

“Good, use that.”  He pauses. “What else, little girl?”

I swallow hard. He wants more?

“Really Master? More?”

Really.   More.   Much more. Tell me.

He growls that last part. I can’t help it…it turns me on, even while my knees are shaking. “P-pegs on my belly. Those hurt like fuck, Master.”

“Good. Do it. What else?”

OMG, I think …he wants MORE?

“Oh Master”…I’m almost near tears now.

Tell Me.

His voice is demanding. He *knows* –I know He knows what I don’t want to say next…My voice drops lower.

“The vibe, Master.” I whimper.

“Ohhh, the vibe, that’s right. HOW bad is it?”

“It’s bad when the power is up there.”

“Good. Do it. DO IT.”

I whimper, thinking 75-80 % power is gonna be tough for four treks up that mountain. Again He interrupts my musing.

Nuclear! I want it fucking turbo-nuclear!!

His voice is gleeful and gutteral and growly and so fucking turning me on…And…it makes me shudder.
“Master!” I gasp, I plead with Him……”no..no really? Not..not…”

FULL POWER, slut. For all four trips That fucking vibe stays ON your clit the WHOLE time.”

When He laughs, it’s with satisfied glee. “Yes, that’s perfect.” He reiterates:

Double pegs on your nipples. Pegs on your belly. Vibe on full high, on your clit,  for the entire time.

“Yes Master.”

The call ends, and I know He is satisfied. He’s taught me a very valuable lesson in controlling my mouth.

If It’s Tuesday, It Must Be Real…

Some people call this TMI Tuesday, but I don’t answer a set of proscribed questions so it’ s just real nilla day today!

I had every intention of writing. You know…something steamy and sexy and sensual and arousing.

But…

Mom Nature called; she had other plans for me! It was 82* here, sunny and HOT! It was a day to go through my closet, my dresser, and take away things I absolutely won’t wear again; we’re poised (as I write this) on the edge of the Vernal Equinox, and I just can’t see myself wearing my favorite fuzzy sweater again this season,  yanno?

Today was spent washing winter bedding and throwing everything on the clothes line to dry in the abundant sun, and in watching my kids ride their bikes and scooters, and making lemonade, clearing cobwebs, both mental and physical, from my house.

Tomorrow I will be ready, I think, to write. (Gosh, give a woman a week off to be sick and what does she do once she’s recovered? Fritter her writing time away on mundane chores???)

My great green goddess! What a greedy slut!

*grin*

I did do some “housework” here too…..if this is the first time you’ve come here since my spring “make-over” for Vanillamom, what do you think? I’ve chosen a different format, one that I hope is a bit easier to read and navigate. Do let me know what you feel…good and/or bad. Master will check it out and give me His feelings on the upgrade. . . but I welcome all thoughts.

How I adore that Man! You know he relented and gave me an orgasm Sunday night after all…I earned that, coincidentally, because we’d made a bet. He didn’t recall seeing my O report from Friday, yet I clearly remembered writing it. Trouble was,  had I actually sent it? He challenged me – if I stood by my claim that I had indeed sent it and he had just missed seeing it, and it really was in his “In” box…I would get a Sunday night O.

However.

If I was mistaken, and took the bet, and lost….I would forfeit ALL my O’s, even on our special day of the week when I always get a special message and at least one O. Giving up that O would be HUGE. Losing a week’s worth of O’s is always difficult….but I was really 99.99% certain that I had sent that report to Him.

I agreed to His terms.

And then after hanging up (I was driving to the City to get the teen)…I was in a mental quandary…Had I sent it? I was so medicine-fogged on Saturday…I didn’t remember what time of day I had sent it, although I remembered clearly telling him my thoughts about the glass dildo, which I got to use for the first time.

I got to church and pulled out my phone and logged into my email and YES! There it was. I’d not used the caption “O Report” like I usually do, I’d labeled it “So, Master….”

PHEW!

What a relief. And that is  how nilla bagged her Sunday Orgasm!

Of course, with our big D’s…nothing comes without a price. When I got home, He texted me.

oh, by the way, little girl…When you finally have that O…I want your electric vibe on your clit.

And.

I want you to climb the mountain 4 times before you come. Understood?

Four times.

FOUR times? He’s never made me climb the mountain four times before falling over. And the clit thing. Gods He loves to torture my poor clit. I was already very horny. Spent the day being horny after that epic Starbucks experience. When I touched my clit with my finger? Hard and swollen and sensitive….and this was *before* the fucking vibe.

However.

He did NOT mention at what speed to put the thing on, so I settled for 75% power… that’s enough zing to make it torturous…but not so bad that it is incredibly painful. And it’s not so low that if He asks later …. that he’ll think I lowballed it, and took advantage of his good nature.

I texted back an “okay Master,” finished working on my Sunday at Starbucks post, and sent that to Him for approval. Once approved, I set it up on the blog, and got busy with that “assignment.”

Now, four times up Fuck Mountain may not seem like that hard of an assignment, but trust me…I was so horny that I booted from “base camp” to the rocky edge in minutes….only to have to pull away the vibe and back my ass away before I fell over.

I lay, gasping, panting, heart racing.

I wanted, needed, to cum so badly. My whole body quivered with suppressed need. Eventually it calmed, and back to work I went…and in minutes was right back up there.

Master has trained me pretty well to get to three and LEAP out into the abyss of orgasm…

So stopping there had a certain…well…sadistic… twist.

It was so fucking hard to stop. And then to start again? My arm was tired from the vibe. My other arm was tired from fucking.

Stop laughing…they were very tired arms.

(I hear you giggling–this is serious stuff here (I know -who am I kidding, right?))

Anyway.

My body just kinda stopped.

There I was, vibing and fucking and all of a sudden,  my pussy went “HUH?”

“What, you think I’m fucking nuts? You’ve already pulled the football away three times, Lucy, and I’m not fucking Charlie Brown here. No. Not gonna fall for it…”

And she turns away.

From close to the top of the hill, I slid down a scree slope to about half-way down. What the fuck? There’s nothing for it than to turn the vibe up a wee notch. I can’t let it get to full power coz that will just send me into orbit, and naked astronauts don’t do so well up in space.

Besides….it would fucking hurt. My nipples were already screaming. I’d pegged them with two clothes pins each (He wanted pain, lots of pain, to go with this scene) and occasionally the throb from them would drown out the throb in my clit.

Turning up the vibe seemed to convince my pussy that I was serious about going up that hill once again. I could feel her distrust…her whine about getting there being too hard…blah blah…and then suddenly the heat just enveloped me…

I was right there.

Right fucking there…and I mashed down on my clit, and fucked with the vibe and when I came it was like breaking into atoms….

Wow, what a fucking fucking AMAZING rush that was.

Clit throbbing like it had been beaten (and well, it was kinda)

And my nipples screaming…and my lungs gasping for air…and my heart racing…..it was a wet wet wet orgasm, and I lay there, trembling for quite a few minutes, sweaty and with a tsunami of pussy honey leaking from me.

And when it was done, rather than being sleepy? I was turbo-charged. Yeah, it was one of those kind of O’s….

So I sent Master a sext.

And He replied.

And I sent another.

And it went back and forth like we were teenagers…until 1230 a.m. when He finally put His foot down and sent me to bed.

Tonight we talked as he drove home from a late meeting.

He gave me another orgasm tonight…but with another set of conditions…vibe on the clit. Four treks up the mountain. And that fucking vibe has to be set at 75% for the first three trips.

And.

(He pauses for effect here. I go nuts. In my head I’m going “andandandand fucking WHAT????” and He know’s I’m doing that, and yet he lets it goes on, that silence, that fucking “and” hanging there…baiting me…. and finally I can’t hold it back, it slips out and I say (in a begging voice)….)

And, Master? And?

He laughs. That rich and wicked, sinful laugh that I love.

For that last trip up the mountain, little girl….the vibe goes up to 100%.

I gasp. “Oh Master…that’s going to kill  me….so much torture!! OMG…Master….”

And he laughs again, and asks me if I know what the best part of that is. I think to myself…”not dying”….but say “no, Master.”

On all those other treks up the mountain? You’ll be thinking and fretting about the last one.

He knows me, knows me inside and out. Of course I’ll be thinking about that!  I may have whimpered, then.

And He laughs that wicked Sadist’s laugh once more.