He Insists

So there I am, muddling along in the day-to-day of my life. I have been so busy between kid stuff, work stuff and house stuff that I’m up and running the moment my feet hit the floor every morning…so busy that I rarely eat breakfast these days, and chug my one cup of tea between the various tasks for taking care of my family (including fur-kids!). For several days I only sent a goodnight text to M…at midnight.

And then.

I did a thing.

You know how one day you just get tired of the same old, same old? Yeah, I hit that point a week ago, and I cut my hair.

Now, M loves long hair on women. I know that. And I’ve been growing my hair for 12 years (with occasional ‘big’ trims)…but it hasn’t been short-short since he’s known me. And you know,  he’s not the day-to-day Dom that manages stuff like that. He doesn’t care what I wear, doesn’t care if I wear underwear or not, it just is too much micro-managing for him. It used to bug him when I’d ask about changing my color, or getting 4″ of hair lopped off.

So I just plunked myself in the hairdressers chair and told her it was time for a makeover. My hair was lank, and damaged, and tired. My red was more trending towards orange, and I was just tired of managing all of it.

She took off somewhere near 9″ and then added lots of layers (I have super thick hair). Now it’s bouncy and vibrant, and a deep coppery red…and I love it. It barely skims my shoulders in the back!  It takes me 2 minutes to style and boy how nice to not have the chore of keeping it up. No more braids, no more ponytails…and no more headaches, either. If you have long hair that you put up in a pony or bun, then you know what I’m talking about.

While I’m sure he’s not pleased with my decision, he also understands that sometimes you need a big cut to make it nice again.

So that leads me to his text early last week, insisting that we have a play time in June. Yes. HE initiated wanting playtime. So we’re going for it, hopefully mid-month. I was stunned, and happy, and glad to know that he still wants my fat o…hrm…if I say that word, Jz will be on me again…my fat, 59 year old ass. It’s nice to be wanted, isn’t it?

“I hope you beat me good, M,” I said. “I suppose you could beat me for cutting my hair,” I continued.

“Nilla,” he says, and I can hear the voice in my head as I read his texted response, “I’m going to beat you for breathing. I don’t need an excuse to do so.”

Which just makes me laugh. It’s just so M.

Keep your fingers crossed, Peeps, that things continue to flow and we get a second playtime already, this year. When you’re only averaging 3 times a year, having another time to fuck like minks in such a short time frame is a gift of immeasurable value. And if all goes well, despite him not loving my hair, which I know he won’t, he should hopefully at least not loathe it either.



Waves of Submission

During play time, things come in waves…times of interaction, greeting, choosing outfits, laying out our stuff. Times of touching and hurting and coming. Times of talking. Times of silence. Times of soft, quiet torture, followed by soothing strokes.

So too does my memory come back to me in waves. During our together time, I’m always in the moment with Him. Always aware, thinking I’ll remember EVERYTHING that happened. And then the day progresses, and pain layers upon pain, and lust upon lust. I am both filled, and drained…and can’t think a cogent thought. It takes time for things to trickle down to my conscious memory.  Now, days later,  things come to mind in quick flashes, images of things I saw, impressions of things I felt, hot flashes of hurt, hotter flashes of sex and pain rolled tightly together. I remember toys, and the brush of his beard against my throat. I recall the weight of his body pinning mine, his hands diving under my shirt to attack my tits. His fingers wrapped in my hair as I suck his cock, or pulling me backwards on the bed to be right where he wants me. The sound of his hand hitting my rump, the sharp and staccato beat of it, followed by the searing heat on my skin. So many images, sometimes moving in a flash as I do some mundane task. I pause and see the movie unfolding.

Near the end of our playtime, the heat and the pain and lust all roll together until I’m begging him to hurt me harder, make me cum harder, make me weep with the pain and joy of it. He laughs with a soft, triumphant sound into my ear. “yes, yes, beg me for it. you want the pain. you want it.” His fingers ram into my cunt, jabbing and thrusting and twisting until I feel like he’s going to pull me inside out. I whine “It hurts, Master, hurts so much…” and his voice hums into my ear, “I know, I know it hurts, doesn’t it? That’s when it’s the best, little girl…”

And i explode.

I cum so hard it hurts, his hand leaving my cunt, only to start slapping my clit and pussy so hard the bed is shaking.

He laughs when my next orgasm squirts from me. This is a huge turn on, just writing this, remembering this. But I’m not writing about orgasms tonight, no matter how good they are, how wet and lovely they are.

No, I’m thinking of that first wave of togetherness. When we’re …reacquainting ourselves with one another. When  all is fresh and new, when I’m just getting into the headspace, when I’m letting regular life go and submersing myself into submissive nilla place…that’s a crystal clear memory. My hair is just right, my lipstick bright. My things are laid out, and I’m ready for fun. I forget how much fun hurts at this time. I just remember the floaty part, not the journey there.

I’m dressed in the outfit he chose. I’m in the shoes, on the bed, having been torn between laughter from his fiendish tickling, and pain as he mauls my tits. I’m laying there in the middle of the bed, awash with sensations, already drained, tousled, mussed, tossed around, bruising.

He rises from the bed, moves to the bathroom. I can’t even open my eyes.

“Stay there” he says in the Dom voice.

You know the one, right? There’s the talking voice, there’s the playful voice, and then there’s the Dom Voice.

Stay there.

It’s firm, no nonsense, don’t fuck around tone sends shivers through my bones, raises goose-flesh on my skin, and thrills me. I’m not capable of defying that voice, of playing around and getting up and hiding toys. He’s serious, he means it.

Stay there.

I can’t even think about dozing off, as the words bounce in my head,  echo around my mind. That tone. Gods, how it affects me! I can feel the submission leaking from that hidden corner inside me, the one I didn’t think existed anymore. I’m no longer merely talking about  submission (in a somewhat hopeful way…) I AM a submissive. I shiver, and am put in my place, though I haven’t moved an inch. I am fully, totally his. A slut. No. His slut. A toy. A possession. His toy, his possession. I lay in the bed as he rises. He pauses at the foot of the bed, speaks.

Stay there.

And walks away.  I don’t think. I don’t whine. I obey.

I half-whisper my reply.

yes Sir.


Whole Lotta Nothin’…

I am sitting here at nearly 10 p.m. Monday night with absolutely nothing in my head.

I have some version of the crud that is circulating around here, and it’s settled into my voice box. So, along with periods of having absolutely no voice (and don’t my kids love that?!), I alternately have this deep, bass voice.  Aisha will tell you that this is NOT my normal speaking voice!

So I kinda feel like crappola. Not terrible. But  not great. And my head is muzzy and my ear hurts and damn, don’t I hate sitting here and fucking whining?

And to top it all off, I have an anal plug in because the Master cares, yanno? Because I made some random statement last night at Starbucks about plugs, and now I have forgotten the context but it had NOTHING at all to do with sex or anal plugs. Oh! It was when I was saying that I’d “upgraded to a table with a plug” since when I first got there, it was PACKED and I had a table that had no electric plug handy. He got this look on his face of pleased fascination…and I start waving my hands frantically in that age-old “no-no-no” way….and shaking my head and stammering “no, no, NO! Master! I didn’t mean…” but He cuts me off with a single word, and that smile.

Yes, that smile.

The one that makes my tummy flip over (as in, OMG I am SO fucked). And that would be the same one that wakes up even the pussy of a sick woman, and makes her sit up and beg for more attention.

I knew it was just a matter of time before He stuffed something up my ass. *le sigh*  It does take my mind off my throat and ear…and at least it was the smaller of the two plugs, right? Not like one of those big old “njoy” metal plugs (I had a pic of one a few stories ago, and kaya uses one on a semi-regular basis (though it looks as though it may become way more than semi-regular…).

And the rule is that I only have to have the plug in while I am writing anything for the next three days. Of course, Tuesday is often the day I do a ton of writing, so that plug will see some more attention come tomorrow. And hopefully my head will be clearer, I’ll be feeling better, and won’t have a whole lotta nothin’ here for all my pervie friends.


I do have one thing to share that is pervie good fun. I got my very first glass dildo today. Did you know that if you go to Eden Fantasies and do a search or such, and you’re logged in, that you get credit points? Over time those points add up…(btw this is NOT a commercial for Eden…it is just one of the things I happen to like about them, okay?) Anyway, I would say I go to their website a few times a month. I tend to use their site for “research” for stories…for toys and such..anyway, I’d saved up enough credit points to get $10 off….and I used it to buy my first glass dildo! Here it is, right beside the anal plug that is no longer on my blanket, but is still in a warm place *gigggles* gee. Do ya think my cough meds have kicked in? Yeah, me too.

So, it has these neat swirls around it that don’t seem to be too “much” …but a gently curved head that I hope will hit all the right spots. I can’t try it without permission from the Master…and last time I got a new toy it had to sit and wait for HIM to play with it on me, first. So. We shall see.

And gosh if that is it for “exciting news” here in nillaville?

Pretty fucking boring, eh?

Yeah, I thought so too.

So…I’m going to tuck my tired, stretched, ass into my bed, get a good nights sleep and wake up tomorrow ready to put some titillating words to virtual paper, and help ya’ll get off … on the right foot. Ha ha!

I feel all floaty…kinda like subspace without the fucking…which is kind of a shame, eh?

Okay, before I put YOU to sleep? I’m signing off. Happy Tuesday, pervie peeps of nilla!