oh the dark and dirty things I think of while walking my pooch… ~nilla~

(maybe dragon-y for some--but then again? maybe not!)


noun vi·o·la·tion \ˌvī-ə-ˈlā-shən\

: the act of doing something that is not allowed by a law or rule

: the act of ignoring or interfering with a person’s rights

 “C’mon baby, let’s walk. No, no sniffing now, momma’s gotta make it up this hill…”

She jiggled the dogs chain, and puffing a little, got her moving forward up the long hill. It bordered a church, the long expanse of green lawn a major attractant for the area’s dogs. Molly always had to tug Fluff past the garden rocks to get her ’round the corner. Once they started up the hill, the small dog would prance along merrily.

She enjoyed walking in the early  morning, even before the sun rose. At five a.m. not many others were out and about; by five thirty the joggers would come running, and by six, other doggie parents would be out on their first jaunt of the day.  The robins were sending up a chorus of music, the song sparrows sang a descant. The air was warm enough that she didn’t even require a jacket today.

As she crested the long low hill and drew even with the back of the church, she paused and took a breath while Fluff squatted. Directly behind the church was a big parking area, and behind that, a big open field, bordered on the back side by a cross street. Stepping into the parking lot, she unclipped the dog, and reaching into her pocket, withdrew a tennis ball. She threw a long lowball for Fluff, who gave a happy yip and raced off. She walked towards the edge of the pavement, smiling as her dog scooped up the ball, and running in a wide arc, came back for her treat. Dropping the ball at her feet, she snarfed down the kibble, then took off after the ball again. They played this way for some minutes, until a cruiser pulled into the lot. Though it looked like he was going to park and drink coffee, he slow-rolled over to where she stood. Slipping the leash back onto Fluff, she turned at his low tone.

“You had your dog off leash. We have a law about that here.”

“I’m sorry–she comes right back to me, as you saw.”

“Nonetheless she isn’t to be off-leash. Stay there.”

He puts the cruiser in park, and exits the vehicle. Round the front bumper, she notes how tall he is. Cops always make her nervous. And somewhat excited, thanks to that whole men in power and uniform thing. He squats down to look at her pooch. She expects him to pet the dog, comment on her manners. He looks at her, then stands.

“There’s no tag on her collar.”

“It’s on her other collar back at the house…”

“City ordinance 57.3 Section B, Subsection 3 clearly states that dogs in our city must wear their tags when off the owner’s property. You’re in violation of two counts. I could seize and impound your dog, fine or arrest you. At my discretion.”

He stares at her hard, and her heart is racing. Arrested? Over an unleashed dog that weighed under 20 pounds soaking wet? Over her lack of tag…? This was outrageous. Her mouth opened to protest, but he held his hand up.

“I’m not in the mood for any shit. I’ve got…”

He pauses and glances at his watch.

“…20 minutes left on shift. I don’t want to have to work an hour of OT to write this all up. Nonetheless, you’ve broken the law, miss, and you must pay the price.”

“She’s hardly lawless, you know…nor I…”

“Don’t get smart-mouthed with me. I can see a road to compromise here. Come sit in the cruiser.”

She was afraid if she went into the back that he’d just haul her in, regardless of him wanting to get off duty.

“Front seat. Put the dog in the back.”

“You’re going to arrest my dog?”

“Just get in the fucking car, dog- lady.”

Her hand shook as she opened the door. He took the dog from her and put her on the backseat. Sliding in, it seemed he took up most of the space in the front. He turned the car around and faced the meadow.

“I think you know what you can do for me to…relieve my mind that you’re going to be a good and responsible dog owner in the future.”

“Your mind?”

She had a pretty good idea what he really wanted “relieved” and doubted sincerely it was his “mind”. The telltale bulge at the apex of his thighs answered that question. She glanced from that, to his face. One eyebrow raised.


“I…are you going to…you know…”

“going to…what?”

“going to take it out.”


She huffed out a frustrated breath. Seems he was determined to humiliate her.

“Are you going to take your dick out of your pants?”

“I’ve never cared for that word. That old joke, you know…Tom’s Dick is Harry…”

“That’s a stupid joke…”

“What were you asking me?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Are you going to take your…penis…out of your pants.”

He cocks his head to the side.

“Are you a nurse? Or…pardon the sexist assumption…a doctor? Because they’re the only people I know who say “penis” quite that way. Uptight. Naming body parts in that …doctorly way.”

“Cock. Fine. You want me to be crude. I ‘ll be crude. Are you going to…oh never the fucking mind…”

She scoots over a bit and reaches for his fly. His hands lay on his lap. He is not going to help her at all, she understands. He’s hard enough that getting his shaft out of his pants could get his dick scratched and she was wary of that potential hazard. She unbuckled his belt, opens his pants and reaches into the opening of his underpants. His cock is warm, stiff, soft as silk and hard as a steel bar. The flared head is ruddy, and the scent of him makes her mouth water.

“If you’re sure…”

“Put my fucking cock in your mouth.”

Rather than argue, she opens and presses her mouth around him. Her tongue curls to accept him, while her head lowers, then raises. Her hand fists around the base of his shaft, feeling the roughness of the crinkled hairs there. Sliding her hand up, her mouth up, she begins to spread the saliva along the length of him, stroking firmly. She alternates between sucking at the crown, and taking him deeper each time.

He moans a bit as her hand warms, and her mouth creates suction. The salty tang of his essence leaking from the tip hits her tongue, and she is moved to take more of him. Rising up, she strokes again from base to tip, as her sucking lips slip up over the head of his cock, sucking at the tiny tender hole at the tip. She feels the quiver of response in the hard flesh in her hand.

Her lips encircle him again, and she moves to take him deeper. His hand lifts from his thigh and presses her head down, hard, and she gags as he is suddenly fully within her mouth and throat.

“Suck that cock, you fucking cocksucking slut…”

He speaks dirty words, his tone guttural. His fingers tangle in her hair, holding her down until she thinks she will die from cock-choking, but he releases the pressure, allowing her to rise and gasp for air.

“Again,” He orders, and shoves her mouth down. Once more she gags, the angle all wrong for her pleasure in the task. He is so hard now, the head so big that he truly cuts off her breath when his cock lodges within her throat.

He lifts her head, fingers not gentle as he tugs her up, slaps her cheek hard enough to make her eyes water. Her head is spinning….and yet there is a sudden deep jolt of longing deep in her belly.

“Hurry up. I’ve only got 10 minutes before I need to be back at the station.”

He shoved her head back down. The head of his cock glistens from her spit and the drop of fluid that lay like a clear pearl, balanced on the tip. She sees it all for one flashing moment before that weeping head is pressed against her lips, before they part and the salty essence glides over her tongue.

“Just suck.”

His hands grip her head and begin pushing her down, pulling her up. He used her mouth like it was a tool, not part of her, a human being. She was, she realized, a sex object to him. The thought brought humiliation and the unmistakable rising of lust. She choked as he pushed her head down, his cock gagging down her throat at the awkward angle, her nose buried in his pubic hair. He made a sound, something deep and filled with dark pleasure as her throat hiccupped around his cock. He held her there for what felt like hours, before dragging her head up, allowing her a breath. Tears stung her eyes, she swallowed bitter bile, fought the urge to claw at him. In the backseat, the dog whimpered in shared distress.

“Fucking cocksucker, finish me!”

Slamming her head down on his engorged shaft, thick and hot in her mouth, she felt the quiver of his belly against her cheek. He stiffened, his fingers curled into claws against her skull, as he ground her head down, lifting his ass from the seat to drive himself as deep as possible into her face. She heard his groan of release, the relaxing of muscles as he pulled back a bit.

“Swallow it all, not a drop on my uniform or you’ll regret it.”

Sucking hard, she drew semen into her throat, swallowing quickly. Finally he was done, slumped in the seat, his cock slipping free of her lips as he began to soften.

“Put your toys away. Gently.”

Her hands shook a little as she gingerly tucked him away, then zipped up his uniform pants, and fastened his belt. He watched her, his eyes boring into her face. She didn’t make eye contact after the first moment.

“Let me see your tits.”

She bit her lip, immediately regretted doing it. She wasn’t some skanky novel heroine, but the nervous habit had been lifelong. She held the hem of her shirt a moment too long. His hand raised and slapped her cheek again, firmly.


Her shirt rose, baring her breasts to him.

“Take them out of the bra.”

She didn’t want to do that. Yet her fingers slid up, tugging down one cup, then the other, before raising the hem of her shirt again.

She expected him to grab. She expected him to fondle. She expected pinching. Yet he just sat and stared at them.

“Get out of the car and take your mutt home. Keep your tits like that. I’ll enjoy watching you round the corner and seeing your titties bouncing as you walk. Go.”

Dropping the tee-shirt, she slid out of the cruiser, opened the backdoor and took out the dog. Her knees were trembling, her pussy hot and bothered. Her nipples rubbed against the cotton of her shirt, aggravating them to hardness. In her mouth, the taste of his semen made her lick her lips. Turning, she quickly walked out of the parking lot, knowing that he was watching her. She rounded the corner, blushing as her tits bobbled freely under her tee-shirt. She swore she could feel his eyes on her. The thought brought a fresh rush of wetness between her thighs. Finally she moved past the field and into the more residential neighborhood beyond. She urged the dog down the next street, hoping Fluff would poop quickly so she could get home.


“That was a fast walk.”

She unleashed the dog, hung the collar and leash by the door where she’d have it handy for later. Barely glancing at him, she merely nodded at her husband and remained silent as she busied herself feeding Fluff. She felt his eyes on her as she moved around the kitchen.

“Look at me.”

She noted the half-smile that revealed that charming dimple that always got her stirred up. Her clit pulsed, a reminder of her intense need. She met his eyes at last, found him looking intently at her over the rim of his coffee mug. Blushing, horny, she knew she was beyond caring what he thought of her. His eyes smiled, one brow rising as he looked at his wife.

“Let me see your tits, doglady.”


Fist in her hair, he pushes her backwards across the room, his other hand arcing stinging swats against her tits. They bobble from the blows, she moans. It hurts, with an ache she can’t deny–and yet it arouses. The needy wench inside her that stirs to life at every visit with him uncoils her threads within her until she feels every pulsing panting riot of need. Every molecule sings with it. Every heartbeat reverberates along the prints of his palm on her breast.

He propels her backwards until her back bumps the dining room table. Eyes glowing, he pushes hard until she is fallen across it.

His words, bullet sharp, pin her to the table as effectively as rope.


“Don’t move.”

He moves around the table and she hears his belt releasing, the sound of his zipper stitching downward, the whisper of fabric over skin. Behind her, his hands hook her arms. She is pulled across the table, head hanging off like a broken doll.


One hand fists in her hair as his cock finds her mouth. The other slaps the belt down across her tender belly, her mons, thighs, and tits.

“Open your legs.”

She is reluctant, but his cock lurches forward, stealing her breath. His hand is a fist in her hair, holding her head, her nose mashed against his balls, the heavy smell of man piss an acrid burn in her nostrils.

She can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t swallow. Spots dance, her head seeks freedom. Her legs open, and he withdraws.

She steals a breath, only to push it from her lungs in a scream when the belt lands firmly at that junction of thighs, to that center of tender folded flesh.

Backwards, her mind is thrown, to the day she met this darkly dangerous man.  To the pain and torment and delicious pleasures He bestows.

His cock fucks into her mouth again, grabbing her ears and driving deep, holding, holding. He pulls away, satisfied with her capitulation,  accepting her submission as he uses her lips to harden his already rigid cock.


Dizzy she sits, as he pulls her close to the edge of the table.

“Legs around my waist. Support yourself as I fill you. You’d better be wet…”

Her smile bloomed. This was always her problem, being wet for him. Ever since that first day, that first time, he spoke and she oozed.

He tugged her until the spit-wetted head of his shaft pressed against her dripping hole, tugged her again, impaling her by slow inches, until she was filled with him.

His hands cupped her bottom.

“Legs around. Tighter. You relax, you fall.”

Her arms wound around his neck, as he moved her backwards again, until they fetched up against a wall. He used that momentum to bury himself that last inch into her. Pressing into her deepest space, stretching and filling her completely.

He fucked hard, her back pounded against the wall as he drove into her with hard, deep strokes.

She came, came again, felt her left leg losing strength as he drove her yet again into bliss, felt her body unfolding from his, undone, as the stars called her name.

He staggered with her weight, falling back, and back, until he fetched up against the couch. He fell backward into the soft depths, felt her falling into him, pouring over him, feeling the oxymoron of lovers–so blissfully empty, yet sublimely full.



Fuck This!

Her glare said it all, as he stared her down.

Their eyes did a silent, deadly war, until at last, hers fell. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke.

“Yes, Sir.”

He did not reply, merely crossed his arms over his chest and watched. Her hands rose, slowly to unbutton her blouse. His guest, whom she had no idea would be there, watched avidly as her fingers fumbled over the buttons.  She was nervous, clumsy, yet both men continued to watch until she finished. The two edges of the shirt parted, as her hands fell to her sides.

Her breasts swelled above the cups of her demi-bra, her cleavage centered within that gap, enticing both Doms. Her flesh was pale, her shirt the red of ripe pomegranates, a beautiful and compelling contrast.

Her Master continued to stare at her, and, obviously not happy, she shrugged the blouse off one shoulder, then the other, allowing it to cascade down her arms, pooling for a moment around her wrists, until it fluttered to the floor behind her.

He rose from the bed in one fluid motion, startling her. She watched him with wary eyes, as her Master continued to watch her.  Circling her, she felt the barest whisper of a touch along the top of one shoulder, cupping one buttock, slipping over her hip, until he stood directly in front of her and traced the very edge were tit met satin. She shivered at the touch, his finger was warm and rough-a working-man’s hand.

He pressed against her, guiding her with his body, until she was turned around, the back of her legs hitting the edge of the mattress. Palm to her chest, he pushed once, hard, and she fell back. Her hair cascaded in an aura around her head, her hands fisted in the coverlet, as he straddled her.

Hooking a finger in the bra, he tugged, lifting it away from her body, then pulling it over the tops of her breasts, leaving it laying near her throat. His hand gathered her tits, pressing them together, kneading them and pinching the round nipples.

The gasp and moan came as a surprise. Until today, only her Master had touched her. Until today, His was the only cock she had seen as a submissive. Until this moment, when His guest tugged his hard shaft out of his jeans, and let it lay upon her belly.

“I’m gonna fuck this,” He said. His voice was raspy, with a bit of a Boston accent. Not the Kennedy kind, but the Southie kind. Why that even mattered, she had no idea. Her brain noticed the oddest things during these scenes. As if it had to put rational things in there to balance out all the BD and SM things she fed it.

He pressed her tits tightly together, and it was then that she realized that he was planning a titty-fuck…she’d assumed that she’d be sucking this strangers dick, but no, or at least, not now.

“Lube?” he turned his head, questioning her Master, who reached into his bag ‘o tricks and pulled out a bottle. Opening it, he crossed the room and squirted a thick stream of it into the valley between her tits.

She gasped…so cold! Fucking bastard! He grinned down at her.

“Want me to move her back some?”

In moments, she was tugged across the mattress, head hanging off the side. Her Master filled her mouth with his semi-hard cock, even as their guest began pressing her tits and fucking that deep and warm cleft.

She lost all sense of time, her entire being focused on pleasuring her Master. There was a growing need between her own legs, though she knew that wasn’t something she should worry about. There had been times when He’d not given her a single orgasm, only spankings and pinching and had her blow him.

She hated that, but it sure ramped up the hotness for her. Being a submissive slut was a curious thing at times.

He pulled out of her mouth, hard and rigid, stepping away as the Guest began to moan and spurt. Thick rivers of cum landed between her breasts, further greasing that pathway as he pressed forward, pressed deeply between those mashed orbs. His fingers clenched around her, painfully tight, as his cock shooting cum onto her throat, her chin. Still hanging head upside-down, she felt one tickling rivulet sliding up towards her nose. Shaking her head she tried to change the trajectory, but it only made it slip faster. It entered her nose, that stray bit of man-juice, and she sneezed mightily, making both men laugh.

She hadn’t been told to move, so she lay there, a bit dizzy, disoriented, listening to their voices buzz but not understanding a word. The sound of the door closing confused her, then there were hands round her ankles, tugging her back up to the bed. She blinked, and saw Master, pressing her ankles ceilingward, his big cock moving towards the juncture of her splayed open thighs.

“What is this for?”

He slapped her pussy hard, making a wet splashing sound. She was so wet that if she were standing upright, she’d have wet shoes.  She hated when he made her talk dirty. It embarrassed her still.

He slapped her again, harder, making her jolt with the sharp pain.

“Don’t make me ask again, slut.”

Her voice was tiny, whisper-thin as she spoke.

“For you to fuck, Sir.”

“Louder. I want you to tell me what this wet hole is for?”

She wanted to close her eyes as her cheeks bloomed fiery red.

“For your cock to fuck, Sir.”

“You think I’m going to fuck this?”

She nodded, even as she spoke. “Yes, Sir.”


“Yes Sir, you’re going to fuck my….” she paused, taking a breath, as his compelling gaze drew the words from her resisting mouth, “cunt.”

“You’re right, slut. You are exactly right.”

Drawing her legs over his shoulders, he tugged her to the edge of the bed.

“I am definitely going to fuck this.”


inspired by a certain dreamer…~nilla~

“Come here.”

“Sure, be there in a sec, just want to …”


His voice rarely rose. She always admired that. It was the firmness that changed. This was pretty fucking rigid. She turned from the closet, blouse in one hand, hanger in the other. Poking the air with both, as if to say “see, Master, I’m doing something here”, she froze as she took in the scene before her.

He stood at the door, shirtless. That arrow of hair that led to his crotch always made her mouth water. His jeans rode low on his hips, likely because they were unfastened. The stiff rod of his cock hung out of the slit of his jockeys, the head slick with wetness. Her mouth pooled with saliva.

“Get the fuck over here and suck this.”

She didn’t notice the blouse flutter to the floor, didn’t hear the hanger thump onto the rug at her feet. Wasn’t even aware as she stepped quickly across the room, all but falling at His feet. Her knees hit the floor between His feet, her lips parted, and his cock was filling her.

The heat of him! The weight of his cock. The velvet texture of his skin, and the curling veins. All of these sensations were absorbed quickly. There was no thought, just feelings. The taste of his prick, salty against her tongue, made her pussy ooze. She felt her lower lips plump, the sudden and insistent throb of her clit. Resisting the urge to rub her swollen clit, she instead cupped his balls, weighing them in the palm of her hand, caressing them gently with her thumb.

Grabbing her head with one large hand, he pressed inward against her lips, filling her mouth. Sliding his rod deep, until her eyes watered, as she fought the urge to gag. She did anyway. Dammit.

He grinned down at her. It was an unspoken contest, could she take him far enough that she could please him without choking. He told her she’d never do it, that he’d make her gag on his dick every-damn-time he wanted to.

She really hated that smug face he made at her, yet she greedily hoped he’d do it again. The choking was a turn on. His shaft slid up and over her tongue, and then he rammed her head down. She gagged.

“Shut up and suck.”

She angled her glare up at him, making him laugh. “You cunt. Suck my dick and make it good.”


She lay back on the floor, glazed with his cum. For whatever reason, He denied her his juice today,  had decided to cum on her face. Wiping his jizz over her lips, her cheeks, he’d tucked himself away and told her to get on with her chores. Moments later the back door slammed shut, and she heard the leaf blower kick on.

If only she could remember what she had been doing before his blowjob break. She lay there smiling. Sometimes she got so sidetracked sucking cock! She giggled. Brained by a cock. Braindeaded by a cock. No!


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. 🙂 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.


Is It Mindfuck? oooOOOh my…

Dateline: Friday

We have been texting sporadically during the day. He was teasing me and I was teasing back…

So when I got the text that said “well, better stock up on the red lipstick because you’ll be sucking cock and licking pussy on the 4th” …




That should say *BLINK*

If only I knew how to make that font bigger, it would fill the front of your computer screen.

Oh. My. Gawd. Did I just read what I *thought* I did? I read it again. And again. Yes. It said exactly that. So I ponder that for a few minutes…and then text back.

“I thought this next time together would be just Master and nilla.”

And then I went outside to play with my kids. But when I came in and checked a while later? He’d already responded.

“Well…I guess you thought wrong, n’est pas?”

I’m feeling…fluttery. Nervous. Aware, suddenly that this isn’t a vanilla affair, but a true D/s dynamic. This could be a total mind fuck…or it could be His way of giving me a bit of warning that things will be verrah different next weekend.

This is not, by the way, on my “forbidden” list. There’s only one thing there and I’d guess most of you know what that “thing that can not be mentioned” is….and this…challenge? This…whatever you want to call it that He says will be happening…makes me nervous.

And hot.

And…yes. I’ll admit it here. This is a D/s Blog, is it not? I’m wet. Wet and throbbing with that incredible balance of nerves and …whatever it is about being a submissive that is such a turn on.

Well, that and not having had an orgasm in days and days.

The bottom line here is that I know He will be alert to my safety…he won’t let me be maimed, or injured beyond the …well, I was going to say reasonable, but sometimes after being just with HIM it seems like it’s not “reasonable” doesn’t it?!  Okay, so I won’t be injured beyond what would be appropriate  to allowing me to continue living my vanilla life normally…ie not armless, legless, titless or brain-dead, or incapacitated… or any of those type nature of extremes.

And if I trust Him implicitly ~and I do~  then I can allow the other feelings…the submissive feelings, the lust feelings, the nervous feelings…to rise up and be part of the experience that awaits me next weekend.

There was one last text from Him  Friday…after I had expressed my “nervous” state of mind to Him…

Don’t fret – she’ll be eating you at the same time.


Geebers! Now all I can say is …strap in for the ride boys n gals…coz it for sure will be a bumpy (and interesting) week ahead!

Dark Storms


Madeline tugged her hood back over her head, even as the wind fought to toss it away again. She tried holding the front partially closed with one hand, but the wind-maddened rain ran down inside her sleeve, soaking her to the elbow. Fucking grand.

Her coworkers had warned her, each stopping by her office on their way out into the dark and stormy night. Like some novel of old, she’d thought to herself wryly, as each one uttered words of dread.

“It’s realllly coming down out there, Maddie.”

“You shouldn’t stay here alone, you know the power could go out at any moment.”

“Maddie, come with us…there’s strength in numbers you know!” This from Cat, her best friend at work. She’d looked up from the computer at that one.

“Strength in numbers…from rain? Cat…really?”  and she’d laughed.

“Well, you know, it’s pouring out. And it’s windy as hell. And you have a long ride home. You could come home with me…”

“Right, and watch you and Evan coo and cuddle each other.”

Cat had smiled unrepentantly at her. “I could have his brother come over…?”

To which Maddie had shook her head vehemently. Michael was a piece of work. Too danged bossy. She’d only met him once, but that was enough. She’d shooed Cat out.

“Look, I’m almost done. If you all will stop bugging me, I’ll be out of here in 20 minutes. Tops.”

Two hours and 20 minutes later, with the storm howling up a gale outside, and rattling her windows, the lights had blinked, then gone out. She’d gotten two worried texts from Cat, the last one just before she left. She’d texted back “going, worry wort, sheesh”, and closed down her computer. Deciding that the better part of valor was traveling light, she left everything except her purse in her desk, and headed down the stairs.

In the lobby, she stopped for a minute, catching her breath. Phew! She’d gotten way too spoiled using the elevator. The rain pelted the front windows, sounding like beebee pellets.

“Not a good night out there, Miss.”

“No, Charlie, not at all. Have a good night.” With a backward wave, she’d stepped out into the fray.

No one else braved the streets, and she wished she’d had the forethought to call for a taxi. The odds of catching one now were slim.  To maybe, none. Turning, she headed uptown. Within two steps, she had puddles in her shoes, and began muttering “fuck” every other step. Her toes curled, her heels rubbed, her elbow was dripping, and a wild gust of wind threw itself at her like an enraged harpie. Her hood whipped off her head, her neat bun was torn to shreds, her long hair blowing and blinding her. It was all she could do to stand upright. Grabbing for the nearest light pole she held on for dear life.

“You fucking idiot!” Arms came around her and supported her. She knew that voice…it was unforgettable. “What the fuck posessed you to go out walking in this?”

She looked up, rain streaming down onto her face, nearly blinding her.

“I don’t need your help, you know,” she shouted up at Michael Cox. He looked down at her, scowling as dark as the weather. He tugged her off the pole and all but stuffed her into his burly SUV. It was parked just behind the pole she had been anchored to; she’d never even heard him drive up behind her.


His door slammed shut. She cast a sidelong look at him, through dripping tendrils of hair. The shiver caught her by surprise, shaking drops of water onto her hands, which were clenched in her lap. Quickly she unclenched them. No point in letting him know he was getting to her already.

He sat and looked at her a moment, before he started the engine, and moved the purring beast out into the storm. Wind still threw buckets of water at them, but was unable to break into the dry and warm interior. Vainly she tried to finger comb her tangled hair into some semblance of order.

“You look like a drowned rat.”

She gritted her teeth, then decided to fight fire with simpering simpleton, which she knew would grate on his nerves.

“You always say the sweetest things,” she purred. Fuck him! Rather than glaring at him, she gave him a saccharine-sweet smile, one that slid away as she turned and looked out her side window. Better to look at the storm than him, the handsome devil. She tried to not recall the rain-slicked dark hair, the full lips that were curved into a faint sneer. Nor would she remember the feel of the strong hands that had muscled her in here, the same ones that were gripping the wheel expertly, guiding them safely through the storm. She remembered that he was special forces or something like that. Cock-sure bastard.

His brief laugh made her glance at him. Immediately she looked back at her hands. Damn, they were clenched in her lap again. He was too fucking handsome for his own good. And damned if he didn’t know it. Compressing her lips together tightly, she was determined to not say another word until he dropped her off at her apartment. Yet, peering out the window, she realized they were not going the right way. At least, she didn’t think so. It was hard to see much beyond the arc of the headlamps. The sheeting rain was silvered by the light. All else was lost in the gloomy darkness.

Seconds later, her guess was confirmed. A sharp right, and the sudden cessation of rain and wind made her blink in surprise. The silence was deafening after the cacophony of the raging weather. There were in a parking garage, lit only by his headlights. He pulled into an open space. A sign saying “Occupant only” was her first clue.

“Wait. Wait just a minute, bucco…”

His voice walked over the protest.

“I rescued you, but there is no way I’m putting us at risk by driving all the way to where Cat said you live. Deal with it. Or sleep in here. On second thought, you’re wet enough that you’d damage my seats. Grab your stuff and come with me.”

It sounded like an order. She wanted to balk, but that submissive streak she kept locked down in her deepest depths  responded to it. Responded to him. Unfortunately. She wanted to roll her eyes, to protest, to argue, even as she opened her door, and slid out of the SUV. Her feet hit the garage floor with an audible squish. Oh fuck. Her favorite pumps were ruined. She took a deep breath, and turned. He was right fucking there. In her face, in her space. ‘Challenge, much?,’ she thought to herself. Oh, he pushed her buttons. Made her mad as hell. That was it. Mad. She kept her eyes on the middle of his shirt. One that was soaked through and clung to his taut frame like a second skin.

“If you move I can…” Her words were cut off as his hand gripped her chin, as his lips came down and savaged hers. His tongue pierced her lips, slamming into her mouth, and tasting her. He stole her breath, her brains, even. She shivered again, as a gust of wind cut through the concrete garage, and drove up and under her skirt. He tugged her closer, the heat of him branding her as her chest pressed against his. He was hard, and hot and strong; she was soft, and wet, and lost.

As quickly as he had begun, it ended.

She stood there, almost panting, as he stepped away. He spoke, not of the kiss, that searing, branding of his mouth on hers, but instead, called for her to follow him. Like a dog. Like a servant. Like…a slave. Swallowing down the burst of savage lust that nearly boiled her blood, she took a step. And another.

He took her arm and led her up the steps to his apartment. The emergency lighting cast a green and eerie glow over his features. Yet she continued to move with him, caught in a spell woven so fast, so intensely, that she could do nothing else.


There was a rattle of keys, the creak of a door, and his terse “wait here” as he let them into his dark apartment. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, but she heard him move away.  Yet in moments, a soft glow became a strong beam as he returned carrying a safety lantern. He took her by the arm and led her down a hallway. She caught ghostly outlines of artworks without any idea of what she was seeing. They could be Picasso’s, or cartoons, she couldn’t tell. Still affected by his kiss, she mutely trailed him, her fingers locked in his hand. He tugged her into a bathroom, setting the lamp on the back of the toilet. His hands went to work, pulling her skirt down over her hips until it plopped with a wet splooshy sound onto the floor. Those clever fingers unfastened her coat, then her blouse. The pile at her feet grew, until she was standing in bra and panties before him. Gooseflesh erupted along her wet skin, then suddenly a thick towel was draped around her. He rubbed her body vigorously, arms, legs, belly, back. Her bra fell to the pile, then her ruined hose and panties joined it. Tugging the towel around her tightly, moving her hand up to hold it closed,  he began to remove his own wet clothing.

Her lips tingled. Was it the remembered kiss, or the baring of his skin that was waking the need in her? This was a new feeling for her, the animal craving that made her blood boil. She felt like that storm outside, something raging and wild just under her skin.

Without thought, her hands rose to his buckle, as he tugged the sodden shirt out of his pants. Trembling a bit, whether at her temerity, or the chill, she released his belt, then the fasteners of his slacks. Her thumbs slid inside the waistband, and tugged off his pants and his boxers simultaneously. Lower they slid, over his slim hips. The towel fell away, leaving her as naked as he, and kneeling at his feet.  His hand moved to her head as he stepped one leg, then the other, free of the clinging fabric. His cock bounced, just at face height, and already thick and half-hardened. In the strange illumination from the camp lamp, his prick cast a massive shadow on the far wall. She tilted her head back, then rose up just a bit to lick the tip of it. His hand curled around her head, pulling her forward onto his shaft, as he sank into her mouth. She choked a bit, gagging for breath as his hand forced her onto him relentlessly.

He wasn’t going to ease up on her, she realized. She swallowed, taking him deeper into her mouth, relaxing into the moment, accepting that she had given the control to him. Her nipples tightened, the skin of her breasts growing taut as they hardened into little beads of lust. She moaned, deep in her throat, vibing along the head of his cock. He pulled out, then slid back in, fucking her mouth quickly.

He pulled away, his cock slick with saliva. One thread of precum attached them for a moment, a silver strand of sex juice that stretched from the head of his raging dick, to her swollen lower lip. And then he moved back, pulling her by her hair.


‘As if she had a choice,’ his fingers tangled tightly against her scalp, she thought.  Her pussy throbbed. How many fantasies had she had about this kind of dominance? She had known he’d be trouble. Deep in her pussy she had known that he could be just this way.

Pulling his hand free, he reached for her nipples. Despite the darkness, he found them immediately, pinching them between his fingers and rolling them this way and that. She gasped, would have fallen to her knees, if he hadn’t pushed her up against the bed.



“OH! Ow! Ow!”

“I notice you don’t say ‘stop’…” his voice was amused, dry. Popping one hand free of the torment on her tits, it coursed down her body, to cup her pussy. Those long fingers found the slit and followed it to the hot wet place between her legs. The other arm released her, then tugged her close, holding her with his arm around her neck. Her nose pressed into his chest, the mat of hair there tickling her nose.

Gods, he smelled divine. Hot, masculine sweat. A faint tendril of cologne applied hours ago. And rain. The temptation was too great; her tongue slipped out and began to lick. He was stirring a dark storm inside of her- the tempest outside was nothing in comparison to what was happening in here. His fingers probed deeper into her slit, her tongue slid hotly on his skin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” His voice was a low dark murmur against her head as the probing fingers found her weeping hole and began to tease. Groaning, she felt her hips sway to ancient rhythms, pulsing with the beat of her heart, and the pulsing of need. His cock pressed between them; the hard length of him was a promise in the dark. She swore she could feel him throb against her belly.

His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her backwards, and she fell onto his bed, feet still on the floor. His hands cascaded down her body like a waterfall, until they caught behind her knees and lifted. Her legs slid over his shoulders as the head of his cock bumped against her slickness, and without a second of hesitation, he banged into her.  Arching, she took him deep, her ankles crossing and pulling him closer. Hands on her hips biting deep as he tugged her down the bed, down onto his cock, her ass hanging in space. Withdrawing a bit, it took only a heartbeat for him to screw his cock into her cunt again. It was a rough brutal fucking, banging hard into her, his balls a slap on her ass with every beating stroke, her hands fisted in the comforter, her ass rising in invitation for him to come deeper, deeply into her belly. She welcomed the brutality, welcomed the animal mating, his hands bruising her hips, then rising to tug himself deeper into her fuckhole, by holding her tits like guide ropes. There in the darkness, storms raging inside and out, they came together, a fusion of need and power.


Sunlight sluiced across the floor, casting questing beams across the bottom of the bed. She stirred, feeling like she’d been run over by a bus. She tried to ignore the sun, burying herself under the heavy dark blanket. It wouldn’t budge. She came awake trying to figure out why her blanket was stuck, until she turned and remembered every fucking moment of last night.

He was looking at her with that smile on his face. The smug one. The annoying one.  Frowning, she pushed up on her elbows. She was not a morning person, not by a longshot.

“What’s so funny?” She tried hard not to glare. She settled for squinting. It was pretty damned sunny in here.

“You look like you just went through a hurricane.” He laughed, then ran a hand over the tangle of her hair.

“Hurricane Michael, so, yeah. I guess I did.” She gasped as the hand against her hair tugged. She moved up his body, fast, until she was plastered against him, and still he tugged on her hair. His lips slid over her throat, biting softly, making her gasp at the discomfort and the fast stab of lust.

“Lookout, it’s going to blow!” He murmured against her collarbone, before rolling her over and letting the storm carry them away.


**storms, even impending ones, do something primal to me…I wrote this in one (two-hour!) sitting, including edits…I guess the storm swirled through me and released this one! I don’t think I’ve ever written a story this long so quickly…it virtually wrote itself! ~n~**


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!”


Somewhen in the vast reaches of our time together, after multiple forced orgasms, after fucking, and biting, and beating…

He flips me over on my back. I grunt, I remember, because my shoulders were so sore from the beating, and the biting. My ass was throbbing dully, and my pussy, too, but to different beats. It was a discordant rhythm that my body was playing, all a blend of disharmony that somehow set up awesome harmonics within me.

He healed me, by beating me.

By fucking me.

By using me hard, and heavy.

Then He tugs me, on my back, across the bed, heedless of my small moanings. Tugged like I was a rag-doll…and you all know I’m no lightweight. My head flops off the bed; I feel the heat of his thighs on either side of me, the roughness of hairy legs. The push of His cock on my face, my lips.

He reaches down and takes my cuffed hands, and hooks them together behind His back.  Reaching down, He slapped my inner thigh until my legs opened, aiding in my balance.

He is wordless.

I am blindfolded.

He makes me figure out what He wants, by slapping my pussy. I lick His balls, laving them, lapping at them, making Him moan. If I please Him, He stops slapping my pussy, and starts playing with my tortured clit. It is so sensitized by now, that even a gentle rubbing makes me cum.

I moan against His ballsack, mumbling “no…no…no…”

Cumming is sweet torture…and becomes simply torture.

He moves His hips, and immobilized as I am, I can do nothing to stop Him. Nothing to stop His cock entering my mouth (not that I don’t want it. I do, I do!)

But at the same time, His fingers slip inside me and begin fingerfucking me roughly. I squirt nearly instantly…I feel the wet explosion, as I mumble NO around a mouthful of  cock, trying to get my mouth clear of it so that I can protest. I do, yet, with the position He has put me into, when I open my mouth to say anything there are His balls. I’m effectively gagged between His legs, His cock, His balls, as He stands there, getting sucked off, and torturing my pussy.

I come again.

And again.

And again.

And, yes, again.

The number of orgasms is uncountable. All this in silence. He says nothing to me, just plays with me. Pulling my nipples, slapping my tits, pinching my belly. Fucking my pussy.

Fucking my pussy.

Fucking my pussy.

He doesn’t cum in my mouth. He reaches up, and I feel His hands unclasping my wrists, then He steps back, tugs me up upon the bed.

Does He cuddle with me? I think so.

Seriously? I don’t remember that part yet. It will come back to me, or He’ll tell me about it.

And by the way?

I loved every fucking minute of it! The loss of breath from time to time, the banging of my head with His legs, the taste of Him, the objectification of Him plucking away at my body, as He did whatever the fuck He wanted to…all of it was a HUGE turn on.

oh. Did I forget to mention the anal beads?

Next time, my pervies, next time.




forced, pressured, nor tricked.


harmed, ignorant, nor unaware.

Not fantasy

~not any longer~

He spins a dirty tale

into reality.

He sets the stage, and finds


the One who will be his tool.


Not upset. Not unhappy.

I am ….happy

~ alive ~

so fucking alive!

The pictures roll through my mind,

not “me“…but

Master’s sex toy.

Sucking the dick

of this stranger, at the behest of my Master,

I am NOT less than before,

but wholly, completely, His.

This is my fantasy made real, Master’s gift to me, to U/us.

Eating the cock of a man whose face I do not know,

fulfilling the oft-dreamt desire

to be

so used~

this is me after all


a submissive slut.

A dirty girl.

A cunt.

And a sex toy!

Master, I love You

more than my words can ever say.

Thank You for this gift.