Hired! ~11~

Time moved, she was certain of it. Yet she couldn’t say if 5 minutes had passed, or 50. She felt the warm leather of his crop between her thighs, and wished he were there to use it on her. She was needy, uncomfortable, and half naked for crissakes! Facing the rustic wooden wall, her tits and ass exposed, she was flushed with embarrassment. Eventually even that faded during those interminable, unknown minutes. Behind her she could hear people moving around the cavernous room. She could hear those who were otherwise engaged in play. There were slaps and *tings* of implements striking flesh, closely followed by shockingly loud screams as the recipient responded. There were moans and whimpers and the sounds of those in deepest ecstasy.

What she didn’t hear was his footfall. No sound of those beautifully polished shoes coming towards her. How was this even a date, she wondered, feeling suddenly angry. It happened that way sometimes, the submission and the annoyance jockeying for position in her emotions. Her hands felt numb, and her back was tiring when she felt the warmth of hands on her back…and ass.

“Ohh, poor kitten…he left you here all alone and unattended,” crooned a sexy and female voice. “So pretty, this round ass of yours..” the voice trailed off as a long fingernail scratched lightly down her crack and circled her anus. There was a slight tug around her throat as the ends of the tie were pulled taut for a moment, before more fingernails scrabbled down her spine. She wasn’t sure if it was the lack of his attention, or just that those sharp fingernails hit the line between pleasure and pain. The voice continued, the owner clearly knowing that she was having an affect on the tied submissive. One nail trailed up and over her left ass cheek, scratching just hard enough to leave a thin, red line there. Goosebumps rose along her shoulders, her arms, and her nipples crinkled tightly.

“I–I’m waiting for him, t-to…” she stopped on a gasp as the fingernails pinched a piece of flesh where her ass and thighs met.

“I know, that hurts so much, doesn’t it honey?” The voice was husky now, clearly lapping up the subtle signs of pain;  Kat’s arching back, her in-drawn breath, the short pants as she released it against the hurting.

The pinch seemed to last an hour. The relief when the nails released her was nearly as intense as the pain had been, as was the sudden surge of moisture between her thighs.

“Mona,” a deep voice said, the tone admonishing. “Didn’t MamaLa have a conversation with you about poaching?”

There was a pouty “mmm” of sullen agreement.  “But Dirk…! You weren’t here. She looked so lonely, the poor thing. And there was that very pretty ass just begging to be touched..how could I resist?

“Resist,” he replied drolly.

“I’m resisting… authority…” she said with a husky chuckle.”Okay, fine, have it your way, you big greedy bastard.”

The soft sound of her feet moving off gave some measure of peace to Kat.

“You left me,” she accused. Her hair had fallen forward, obscuring her vision.

“Yeah, so?”

He moved beside her, then freed her arms from the iron ring on the wall. Though she tried to hold back the gasp, the blood flowing back to her hands and cramped shoulders made being silent impossible.

“Oh, owww,” she whimpered.

“Poor little kitty cat,” he mocked, all falsely sympathetic as he brushed the hair from her face. He leaned close, kissed her top lip, nipped at her eyebrow. She moaned again. damn him. The last semblance of her snark was fading fast, under a hot and heavy need. She wondered if she’d ever been so horny. Feeling his hands on her breasts, she tried to move closer, but was surprised to feel the fabric of her dress being tugged back up to cover her. In moments he had slid the crop from between her thighs, then pulled down the hem of her dress, covering her bottom. She blinked at him, not comprehending his game.

Taking the tie from around her neck, he bound her wrists, then led her by the trailing length of his tie across the room. They paused for a moment to watch a submissive. Her face was a portrait of beautiful agony as her master nailed her tits to a rough wooden board. Katherine shuddered at the thought of it, but the woman was obviously far gone in subspace. She could see the puddle forming on the floor between her legs; it was obviously a kink that worked for them.

“Interested?” he asked, pulling her attention from the scene.

“No,” she replied. His grin was devilish, managing to be both mocking and humorous. Only a Dom would find that sort of thing funny, she mused. By damn he was one sexy bastard when he smiled. And when he didn’t. 


She was hooked.

He tugged her “leash” and she was obliged to follow him. He slowed to watch a leather-clad woman bullwhip a burly man. His cock was locked in a cage, his nipples cruelly pegged. As he shuddered beneath a snapping blow, she clearly saw the back end of a plug up his bum. It made her wet, which surprised her. His cock twitched with every whip-stroke, and she felt an answering tingle in her clit.

“You seem very…interested,” he said in a low voice.

“He’s…amazing. So is she,” she replied, equally quiet.

“Mistress Dominica is a master of the whip. Shall I sign you up for one of her classes?”

She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not, so she shook her head.

“If you’re sure…” his voice trailed off as the sub roared out a yell when the tip of the whip hit just near his balls. “Well, that had to hurt,” he said, cupping a hand over his groin and making her almost giggle out loud.

“Stop,” she hissed, but she grinned as he made a faux scared face at her, still cupping himself. He tugged her onward.

She frowned as they left the play room, entering the bar. What the hell was he up to now?


Not only had he ushered her through the bar and outside, but he’d led her to his car, all but shoved her in, hands still tied, and belted her safety belt. He’d driven her home with no conversation whatsoever, which made her curious. Her tits were tender from his earlier slap-fest, but her clit pounded like it was a gong.

She needed to be fucked. She needed to cum. She wanted.


Damn him for stirring her up like this. She fidgeted in her seat. She caught just the faintest hint of a grin on his mouth; no, not even a grin, just the sexy upturn on one corner.

“Where are we going?”

The smile deepened. Thank gods above and below, she thought. He’s taking me home to fuck me there. 

He pulled into her driveway, parked, then came around to let her out. Releasing her hands, he slipped the tie loosely around her neck. Arm around her back, he led her upstairs, took her key and opened her door. Stepping inside, she all but threw herself at him, pulling his head down and kissing him fervently.

He tugged her dress down, then off. Helping her step free of it, he held up his hand to forestall her.

“Go to the bathroom.”

“Now?” she all but moaned.

“No, tomorrow. Yes, of course now. Do you  need me to assist you? Watch you?”

“Oh hell no!” 

She scurried to the bathroom, used the toilet quickly. Looking at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, she noted the bruises already blushing along her breasts.  She felt weak in the knees. Oh gods, she so needed this.

He was leaning against the dining room wall, pulling the tie absently through his fingers. Shyly she walked towards him, she naked as the day she was born, he, so well dressed in his suit. Straightening, he gestured to her to come.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the floor in front of him. “Good girl, now turn.”

She presented her back to him as instructed. What was coming? Her heart was all fluttery in her chest, her nipples grew taut. When he tapped her inner thigh, she spread her feet wider. She felt something between her thighs…the cool silk of his tie. He pulled it forward and back, teasing her clit for a moment.

“Hold the ends,” he said, and she took them, one in front, one behind, holding them. It took all her willpower to not rub it against her clit, but he hadn’t indicated to do so, and she didn’t want to push it.

“I picked this up at the club, while watching your delightful ass from across the room. Several of my friends were hoping that I’d share you, you know. You made such a pretty picture there, vulnerable, yet wanting.”

The shiver of need ran up and down her spine. A fresh drool from her pussy was soaked up by his tie.

“But I declined. After all, you and I hardly know one another. 13 working days, and one evening run-in hardly qualifies as getting to know you, right?”

She nodded, glad he hadn’t shared her. So wrapped up in the thoughts of that, that she didn’t notice at first, the heavy metal belt he fastened around her waist.

“Open wider, slut.”

Her legs spread, and a thick metal spine was pressed against her pussy. She jolted at the chill of it. There was a click at her backside. His fingers slid under the front of the band.

“Your pussy is so fucking hot,” he murmured. “Wet, juicy, I’ll bet you need to cum, don’t you?”

“oh, yesss,” she moaned, pressing against his probing fingers. Then they were gone, and a second click sealed the band firmly between her legs.

“No cumming tonight, I’m afraid.”

He lifted his fingers to her mouth.

“Taste that. Taste that needy cunt juice. Yours, little girl. Your needy cunt is going to leak all night, I’m afraid. I’ll be back in the morning to release you so that you can pee.”

He slid the tie from under the crotch band as she stared in shock at him.

“Wait…what? What?? YOU….you…you can’t… ” she yelped. “I…I need….”

“..to wait until I decide it’s time for you to come. Just…be careful what you wish for, little girl. I am a sadist, after all.”

He tied her wrists quickly with the tie, binding them firmly but not so tight that it would be harmful.

“Tonight you will sleep, smelling your arousal all night long. Your pussy will ache and weep and …eventually, you will sleep, and dream of all the wonderful, awful, delightful torments I will do to you.”

He kissed her on her nose, then pushed her into her room, closed the door. Quietly, he let himself out of the apartment, heaving a deep sigh. His cock throbbed. He patted his crotch as he jogged down the steps.

“Soon, my raging friend. Soon.”

His cock knew it would not be soon enough for either of them.

Plump ~2

The nerve of people, she fumed, as she wove blindly through people engaged in all sorts of interesting behaviors.  She’d come here to have fun, to have a drink or two, see what the club had to offer, see if she could find someone to scratch the rather persistent itch she’d developed in the months since she’d moved here to Seattle. Instead, she’d been accosted by a pair of doms who had squared off over her like two hounds over a juicy bone.

She was no one’s damn, fucking juicy bone.

Enraged still by the confrontation on what she’d hoped would be the start of a fun experience here in her new hometown, she barely noticed the way people parted before her. Blue eyes sending off electric, angry light, full lips drawn in a tight line, she moved into and through the lounging area, and stalked right into the largest of the playrooms. Sounds began to permeate her mad;   soft moans, the snapping of toys. Her forward momentum slowed as she drew along an open alcove where a very handsome black man was whimpering. His balls were drooping low, a heavy metal device shackled around them, tugging them towards the floor. A woman, a stunning woman with flame colored hair and a beatific smile snapped a small crop against one of his nipples, upon which a wire clothes pin had been placed. He jolted with each shocking snap of the crop on the pin. This made the device tormenting his testicles wiggle, making him squeal with the pleasure-pain.

She recognized the woman as the one who’d come up to stop the asshole from hassling her.

“Feeling better?” the redhead asked, while continuing to flick the nipples of her toy.

“I…yes. Thank you for …” her words trailed off as she watched a stream of sex juice begin to drip from the man’s penis. He grunted, moaned, as the maddened shaft seemed to pulse.

“Tisk, tsk,” the redhead chided her plaything. “Did I tell you it was okay to come, sweet boy?”

“n-no Mistress…please…I can’t hold it…please Mistress…”

“You’d best hold it.”

Her fingers wrapped around the throat of his cock, just below the head, and squeezed once, hard. His yelp and jolt made Addison jump.

“That’s enough now. On your knees.” The woman frowned, gesturing him down in front of her. She turned for a moment back to Addison.  “Please, accept my apologies for the unfortunate incident. My club appreciates the presence of such a beautiful…submissive?” Her brow lifted in query.

Addison nodded.

“Yes, then, we’re pleased to have you. I’ll be happy to introduce you to some true Doms. Somehow I think I may not be quite to your taste?” The last was spoken with a dash of disappointed humor, something that Addy thought must be difficult to master.

“No, Ma’am. I…well, you’re gorgeous. And terrifying. And…”

“No need to explain futher, my dear. It’s not a problem. Go, wander. Get a drink. Explore. I’ll see you…later.”

Her attention returned to the man kneeling at her feet. As Addison began to move away she heard her say to him, “well, boy that’s quite a mess there. You need to clean that up….”


There were all kinds of things happening, some she had seen only on porn sites and thought were only staged. They weren’t. Who knew  a woman could really put something that big in her snatch?! She opted to not go for a second drink, as she got caught up watching a rope master tie an elaborate harness around a woman, and eventually, suspend her. Clever knots pressed against her clitoris, and every wiggle or writhe created pressure or rubbing against the engorged bulb. Her nipples jutted out from tightly wrapped tits; eventually he added clamps with jingly bells on the ends that sang with every twitch and movement. Addison was as turned on as could be, imagining herself in the woman’s position. She’d never been tied like that, just a simple breast harness as her play partner had been in the learning stages of rope play.

“It’s fascinating how a simple little knot can cause such pain…and pleasure.”

The deep voice spoke from just behind her left shoulder. She recognized it immediately, and the scent he wore.

“What’s the matter, no other subs to cajole, or wanna doms to incite?”

“I think you were ‘incited’ enough for all of us, don’t you?”

She turned and stared into tawny eyes that reminded her of a tiger. A shiver threatened, but she tamped the urge down. And that other urge that threatened to make her pussy gush. He was crazy sexy, no doubt knew it too. He got her dander up, to be sure.

“I didn’t start it…”

“You sure as hell finished it. Though I have to say, I’d have loved watching you feed him his own balls…”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. It wasn’t disarming. It was devastating. And sexy. And ‘oh my gawd’ she thought, he interested her. Her girl bits tingled in response as if to say ‘duh’.

“I’m Michael. Would you like me to walk around with you for a while? Show you what’s what and who’s who?”

He asked. He didn’t cajole, didn’t touch her. There was only a half-smile on that devilish face, a slight tilt of his head as he awaited her response. She might have been able to ignore the tingle. Might have been able to ignore the smile. Might have been able to quell the magnetic response she was having. If he’d been an asshole and demanded she come with him, she might have been able to shake her head, and toss him off. Instead, she rolled her eyes. Damn him to the seven levels of hell for attracting her. For not being an asshole. For being the focus of her as-yet-unreleased anger.

“Fine.” Even to her, the tone sounded ungracious. She softened her voice. He had, after all, tried to keep the asshat from whatever he’d thought he’d try to get away with. It was the thought that counted, even if she wasn’t totally defenseless.

“Just to be clear, I don’t need a knight in shining armor to rescue me. I can take care of myself. And…I’d like for you to take me around the club, thank you.”

“No you wouldn’t. But we’ll work on that.” He paused for just a moment before His smile deepened and a dimple appeared.  My gods, if he’d done that before, it would have slayed her. Damn. A dom with a dimple? She was cooked.

“Just for the record? I’m definitely not a knight in armor–shining or otherwise. Perhaps you’ll find that out for yourself sometime. And I appreciate a submissive who can keep herself safe. Doormats are rather boring.”

He strolled off without even attempting to take her arm and physically “guide” her. Which was another thing she might have expected. Damn, but he was busting up Dom stereotypes left and right. She might already be sunk. A deep breath and sigh followed that thought, and then she hurried to catch up with him.

Fantasy Mode

If only, she mused, her fantasies were real. Were able to be made real.  The elevator landed smoothly at the lobby level, the doors opened with a silent sigh of air. Everyone exited the compartment except for Abby.

Poor little Abby, she thought. Too busy for sex so she has to create nasty little fantasies -ones that only added fuel to her raging libido.

She fantasized about her boss spanking her. She was sure Mrs. Carstairs would not approve. Which really only made the fantasy hotter. She had the drive of a drill sergeant, Mrs. C did, tough and no-nonsense until the task at hand was complete. She’d successfully raised six strapping boys, she would say, and an office of flighty young women was easy as pie in comparison. Imagining the 60 year old woman in black leather going after her with a paddle, hands tied and ass bared for that same no-nonsense spanking? It made her wet to think about it.

She fantasized about the copy machine guy, too. Maybe he was the all-around tech guy, but she always thought about him bending her over the glass, and running copy after copy of her tits as he ruthlessly fucked her ass. Just watching him wrest the guts of the copier out, the sheer rough handedness of his motions made her juicy.

She was a sick, horny bitch, to be sure. Pushing off the back wall of the elevator, she stepped forward, only to be pushed back by the one person she didn’t fantasize about.

“I thought you got hung up, stayed late or something,” her husband said.

The doors closed behind him, a soft puff of air carrying the scent of day-old working man to her nostrils. He was…pungent.

“No, just lost in thought. If you push the open button…”

“Too late,” he murmured as the car began to rise. “Forty seventh floor? This will take all evening to get there, this wheezy box.”

A funny smile crossed his face.

“Turn around.”


Her words were cut off as he whipped her around, shoving her hard against the back wall. Hands on her hips pulled her ass backwards, then slipped her skirt up.


“Shut. Up.”

Before the sound of his words hit her ears, his cock was in her. Panties rucked to one side of her slit, her already wet cunt welcomed the thick, hard mass of his erection. Hands pulled her back against him as he pumped quickly in and out of her. Grinding deep, he came with a quickness that was shocking.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the floor lights rising. 38. 39. He pumped one last gush of his seed into her as the number went to 42. With a tug, he settled the crotch of her panties over her pussy.

“Keep that juice up in there, whore,” He growled into her ear, hand fisted in her hair and tugging her head uncomfortably backward. Her back arched. Her tits, disappointed by his inattention, thrust out in an invitation he couldn’t see.



Her skirt tugged back over her hips, she was swung quickly back to upright, back against the wall. His hands finally gripped her tits, squeezing roughly.

Later,” he whispered. “Tied, beaten, bitten.”

The elevator stopped as the number 47 glowed. The doors opened, and she silently urged the riders to enter, to press the button to the lobby. She was eager for later, now.



Admonished (again!)

If you’ve been reading here any amount of time you’ve likely heard me talk about “Like Day.” The evolution of the day isn’t so important just now, just the information that this is the one day that I get an Orgasm. Yup, just one lonely orgasm a week.

This past week, He didn’t have me do anything torturous the night before as he has had me do in the past. I was coming off of my cold/illness, and he was, well, feeling benevolent. Because I was out of commission most of the prior week, and playing catch-up from the weekend onward. I never got to bed Tuesday evening until 11:45 p.m. which, even for me, is ungodly late.

I should back up a bit, tell you about the Like Day rules.

  • There is only one orgasm allowed no matter how weak it is.
  • There is only Tuesday night to have the O…there is no “oh it’s midnight I’m good” on Monday, nor is there “oh, it’s midnight, I’m good on Tuesday.
  • There is only that window of time from when I go to bed Tuesday UNTIL midnight Tuesday to have my orgasm.

Knowing these long-time rules, I stared at my clock. Oh. Fuck.

fuckity fuckity fuck

How the hell am I going to get settled in bed with my toys AND get off with (now) 13 minutes left until midnight?? I wasn’t desperate for the O, since there’d been no teasing of the pussy the night before, no edging, no pain, nada. I knew I’d only get so close, and have to stop. The odds of coming before the clock struck 12? Insurmountable. Added to that, the cough medicine I take at night makes it even harder to come. Dammit! It’s a conundrum. I decide to not go for it, to text M, and lay it out for him.

That is exactly what I did, yet in the morning, judging by his response? None of this mattered.

Not to Himself. Nu-uh.

My text was very logical.  Gave him all the reasons why there was no way I could take my orgasm. It was the first thing he read in the morning, and I should have known that something would come of it. Can we just agree that sometimes I’m oblivious?

I was completely gobsmacked when I got his text while at work later that afternoon.

It said that missing my Like Day O would earn me the punishment of two half-O’s to be completed Thursday evening.

I gasped, and muttered “what????” as I reeled in my head over this. We’d been texting all day and there was not a hint of punishment. Not a whiff.

“When did THIS become a rule?” I said in my reply text.

“Just now.” He shot back.

Yet “what” that was the first thing I screeched  said when he answered the phone as I drove home later that evening.

“WHAT??” I’m not a soprano, but I’m sure my tone was far from submissive, and definitely in the upper ranges of sound.

The deep, silky smooth tone of his reply should have warned me. He’d been thinking Dom thoughts all day since he’d read my midnight text. This, oh this is a dangerous thing. And hot. Did I mention how fucking hot he is when he is in full Dom mode? It always catches me up, a surprise, not unwelcome, but still a shock when it happens.  So much of the time we’re just two friends talking on the phone. But then there are those times…and Wednesday was one of them…when he is…full-on Master, and I feel exactly as if I were standing in the room, in the corner, with Him behind me.

“Your Like Day orgasm is a gift, nilla. A gift from me, to you.”

There is a pause. I know not to speak, and he is holding me in suspense. After each sentence, there is a meaningful pause.

“When you ignore my gift, that’s a problem.”

“Problems need correction. you need correction.”

He stops. There are no more words. I’m reeling in shock. I never considered, from his point of view, how it would look for me to squander his gift, throw it back in his face, essentially, though he didn’t put it that way directly.

There is like…45 seconds of silence from my end.

“Nilla…? Hellowww? M to nilla……”

My mouth opens and closes and yet no words come out. Finally I stutter out…

“i..I….uhm……….yes…yes Sir.”

“Good,” He says. I hear the satisfaction in that word. He knows he’s got me right where I’m supposed to be, the place  I forget to be sometimes, when the vanilla life is full upon me.

I’m not the business woman then.

I’m not the mom then.

I’m his slut, his.

I remember, in a flash of intense memory in this split second, his hand grabbing my cunt, squeezing it hard, making me whine and whimper as I lay half-under him. He is looking down at me, his tawny eyes so fierce. He growls at me, his voice low and intense and hungry.

“This. Is. MY. pussy. M I N E.”

His words, his ferocity, made me shudder with joy and love and pain and the intense thrill of being wanted that much. Such an amazing memory, recalled with his one word response to my remorse.


His sexy, whiskey-warm voice, that one word, that “good” flashed me back to our play-time memory, of being fully claimed as His.  I’m right back in that headspace, sitting in my car, driving home from work.

Connected. Redirected.


And happy to be owned by such a devious, mean, and delightful M who cares enough to send the very best….and punish me when I forget it.

I am (as he often reminds me) a very lucky slut.



Punishment update:

I had until Thursday morning, for this first infraction, to decide the punishment I must submit to. I can do the two half-o’s on Thursday and have my next Like Day O next week.Or I can forgo my next TWO Like Day O’s and have no further punishment.

I really hate half-o’s. (Conversely, they are uber hawt, too, right??)

But I really REALLY hate the thought of 3 weeks with NO O!…

Oh dear. It’s a dilemma. What would YOU choose? 







…I forget how much pain really hurts.

I know. It sounds stupid when you say it aloud, doesn’t it?  (If you’re submissive, I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that you “grok”, right?)

We managed to eke out a small face time today…so deeply needed. He was fun and flirty and dirty and mean..and he smelled good, and his arms wound so tight around me, hugging, and then a sweetly tender kiss right there in the parking lot of the place we meet. We chat, and laugh and I try to assault his man nipples, and he gives me the stern look, followed by   “nilla, take your hands off my nips.” You know the Look, right? I think every Dom must have one. It’s the stern “don’t fuck with me, slut” look that makes my hands fall to my sides, and also makes me giggle nervously. Yup, that look. I’ve never quite been brave (foolhardy?) enough to actually disobey him on that, despite my somewhat death-defying desire to try it.

Then, doesn’t He trick me?

He did!

Has me show him how the van doors open automatically…I just never think it through, never suspect a thing. So when he asks me to reach that thing on the floor there, and I lean in, He pushes me hard so I fall over the seat and proceeds to pinch my ass! He hides what he’s doing with his body, pretending to reach in, using his voice…’no, that one, yeah, that one over there, yes, that’s the one nilla’, while his other hand does the dirty work. His legs trap me so I can’t move as he leans on them, as I wriggle and squirm and moan and “eep!” when he hits a particularly vulnerable area.  Not content for one pinch, either, but MANY hard little nips with his fingernails. Great Goddess! I came SO close, yes, about that close, to cumming. There is no better feeling in those moments, then of His hands moving roughly over my body. Even though, you know, it hurts.

Oh MAN, did it hurt. 

He can’t pinch my arms, his favorite target, because it’s sleeveless time at last…so he targets my tits, my belly, and now, in this downside-up position, my vulnerable ass. His fingers press into my crack, finding that oh-s0-tender skin there, then biting into all the areas that I sit upon. Yes, I can’t sit without thinking of His hands on my ass…and grow wet and needy for it.

Of course He found my tits, pinching them hard as I slid into my car when it was time for me to go. That man can do a lot of damage in a very short period of time!

Pain hurts when you haven’t had a lot of it…but damn it is so fucking good, too.

Squeeze (3)

The waiter came to the table before she could sit. Before she could figure out how to get her panties back from Sir’s boss. Before she could sink through the floor in mortal embarrassment.

“Your booth is ready, Sir.”

Somehow they were across the restaurant, seated in a curved booth. Somehow she was sandwiched between the two men. Their order was taken, the waiter moving away, leaving them in privacy.

“Cute panties.”

He held them up, suspended on one long finger. She swallowed, trying to dislodge the thickness in her throat. She was about to die from humiliation.

“Cat has her tongue.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I hear she has a wonderful tongue, too.”

The two chuckled.

“This isn’t funny, you know.” She stared at her place setting, refusing to make eye contact.

“On the contrary. It’s funny as hell,” said Sir’s boss. “You have questions, I imagine. Let me tell you a bit about me, and we’ll see how well I do answering the unspoken things in your head.”

He waited, seeing the sommelier coming towards them with a bottle of wine. Approving it, they sat in silence as each glass was poured.

“A toast,” he said, lifting his glass. “To submissives–the world would be far too boring without them.”

They clinked glasses and sipped. She frowned into her glass. Clever, he was. And clever Dom’s were dangerous doms. Her pussy lurched at the thought.

“Your husband and I met at a club, quite by accident. He was…” he paused, searching for the right word. “Unhappy. We talked about his work while sitting at the bar. There was a formidable Dominatrix who tried to put the moves on him, but we found someone else for her to scene with. After that, we started to talk about my business. Turns out that he had skills that I needed to complete my team. That we were both Dominants sealed the deal for me. Things clicked for us, and I’m very pleased with what he’s brought to the job. We have not played together–he explained that you are very nervous about public play–but he speaks very highly of you as a wife and as his submissive. He told me of your joint fantasy of playing with another Dominant.”

Her heart kicked up a few notches. Sir had not said a thing to her about this! Well, not since the last time she’d told him of her fantasy, at any rate. He’d held her tight after a tough scene, her body singing with pain and release. Sated, floaty, he’d asked her to share a fantasy, and she’d told him. He hadn’t spoken of it afterwards–and sometimes she wondered if she had just imagined the conversation had happened. Yet it was still in her, this ragged bit of naughty. To scene with another Dom. With Sir participating. To be fuckmeat. To be used rough, fucked hard, beaten. It was a fantasy that always got her off when she masturbated. She wasn’t sure that she wanted it to be real.

“I know this might well seem to be rather sudden to you, but we’ve actually been planning this for some time, so that you don’t think this was something we both leapt into. I’m willing to get to know you, to see if you will suit me before we decide if we’re compatible for playtime. I have no interest in owning you. I have no interest in ruining my working relationship with your husband. I do wonder if you’re going to be able to complete the task he’s set you to tonight…or if this has come as such a surprise that your ass is leaking.”

My gawd. He knew that, too? Her face flamed.

“Show him your tits.”

She turned to Sir, mouth open. His finger gestured at the buttons on her blouse. There was no bra beneath it, the deep blue color of the fabric hiding the dark circle of her aureola.

“Remove it from your waistband. That’s right, pull it out from your skirt. Now, unbutton it. The whole thing. Keep going…”

Her fingers moved at his orders but slowed as she reached the fifth button, the one just below her breasts. Her shirt would hang slightly open, anyone passing their booth would see her tits. Despite the momentary hesitation, her fingers obeyed, even when her mind objected. Somehow her shirt was unfastened, her hands laying softly in her lap. The bands of the blouse were apart by an inch.

“Here girl, turn toward me.”

Sir nodded, poking his finger against her cheek to turn her head. Again those sparkling blue eyes caught at her. Angling her body slightly, she turned to the man warming her left side. His finger curled under the edge of her shirt, lifting and parting it, exposing her left breast. Though she could feel the warmth of the digit, he never made contact with her flesh. Erotic, overwhelming, sensual– so in the moment she could barely breathe, so turned on she was sure that there’d be a big wet spot on the bench under her pussy.

Her asshole remained tightly clenched.





Face in the mattress, butt up across His lap, His hand lazily beats a steady rhythm against my ass. There is deep and intense pleasure in an over the knee spanking–for both of us. I’m in the zone, really way out in subspace, yet also deeply connected to Him by that thudding hand, and my rosy fanny.

I would be the first to tell you that I’m not a huge fan of anal. And the first to blushingly admit that I come like a bitch in heat when He does it.

There is no prelude. No time to prepare. He just matter-of-factly squirts a bit of lube against my asshole and sticks in His finger, loosening it. My head comes up and I gasp (every time).

“What?” He says, His voice laced with humor. “I’m using lube aren’t I?”

My  head plops down onto the bed. I feel  my pussy clench and — His finger is gone before I ever crest that wave.

(Maybe I even moan about it a little bit.)

But it’s all under His control. I don’t get a say in it–He doesn’t ask, or discuss, He just does. I am His to play with, howsoever He chooses.

That’s totally freaking hawt, y’all.

He’s not my boyfriend who might beg, whine, cajole me to try anal with him. He’s not my husband who might do the same.

He’s my Dom, my Master, and He’s totally and completely in charge. He’s not a huge man, but His attitude is imposing. He has a quiet firmness, and I respond to that. (Okay, I’m easy, what can I say?!) He doesn’t have to make nice-nice to get up my ass. He just takes. Quietly, firmly, expecting me to just take it. I do. I take it even when I think I doanwanna. Doanwanna have *anything* up my tender bottom.


It’s a quiet force that plays deeply into my obsession with rape fantasy. It’s not violent, mind you…but it *feels* like a violation (right up until the actual “violation” and then I’m cumming and cumming…if He doesn’t stop as He did this time, the Bastard!)

He checks my pussy, which is, naturally enough, saturated. Between the spanking and His fingers playing in my bumhole, I’m more than eager to be fucked.

“You’re so fucking wet,” He chuckles, smacking my already throbbing right asscheek once more.

And then I feel it. The press of this really big thing against my pussy, AND my ass. OMG. It’s that fucking double dildo (with a wider girth than any of my toys)…both sides are the same thickness, and He pushes with a steady hand, filling me. I moan, maybe try to get away a little bit. But His hand holds me still upon His lap. Once it’s fully inside, He smacks my ass with one hand, while fucking me in both holes at the same time.

I came so hard I pushed the dildo out of me. He shoves it back in, laughing.

I’m hot and sweaty and soaking the bed and His lap.

Because He takes without asking.

And gives me tons in return.

Please Master, may I have another?

LDR Torture

I like to feel His hands upon me, so true. I like too, knowing that–despite all the vanilla I am currently submerged in–that I am still His dark and nasty slut. I like to be fucked, I like to be controlled, I like to be hurt. Hit me, make me cry, make me whimper, make me wish it were over–at least until those endorphin’s make me fly, until subspace snatches me up and sends me to the far reaches of the galaxy.

But it has been a long, long while since that kind of play has happened, at least upon my tender flesh. And it will be no small amount of time until it happens again. I feel some sadness about that, to be sure. But to keep us (and help remind me when I’m feeling down and blue and wanton and dis)  connected, He will set up a challenge or a goal to keep me focused on what is important between us, Domination, and submission. Obedience and the fact that what is mine–is really his.

I’ve mentioned before that he is a sports guy. Likes *every* fucking sport there is, practically. I’m mostly a football girl. But hockey is big just now, and the Bruins are playing those big bad guys from up north.  Yup. Montreal and Boston are going at it, two-fisted. Hockey is one of Master’s favorites. (That’s what He says about every sports season, actually!)

He has devised a system of rewards and punishments based on how well the Bruins play against their opposing teams. Doesn’t matter if it’s “fair” or not..it’s His game, His rules.

I’m just the poor lil slut suffering when the B’s lose, as they did in spectacular fashion Tuesday evening.  Last night I had to bear the first half of the punishment—a half-o for every goal the Canadians get if they win.

Didn’t they score 4, those mofo’s??

Four fucking half-O’s, and HE determines when and how many I “pay” up front.

Last night, it was 2. Two half 0’s, 3 minutes apart. Sound like labor pains, right? Trust me, it was quite laborious and very frustrating. And today is Znn (as I write this) so there is no chance for release, just an unmitigated urgent need to fuck something. Some one. Anything. Geeze.

Now, there is another game tonight. If the Bruins pull off a win, I get a full-on orgasm for each goal that they score. I can buy off any remaining half 0’s with those “O” points.  (confused yet? I was!) Which could leave me with zero o’s after a win, but no  half o’s either. Sheesh. That’s almost as bad, really.

Which is, of course, the point.

He can make me suffer from afar–because He can. 

Because He likes it.

Because it pleases Him.

Even if He can’t bear witness to the agony of those fucking half-o’s…oh, and it’s a terrible sort of agony, to stop at the last second and lay there in denial and want…

…He still gets pleasure from the imagery.

And even from afar–

it pleases me, to please  Him.




In the Mood for a Story

I thought about sharing a bit more from when Master and I had playtime. Then I got thinking that I haven’t written a story in a while. A shortie on my dark dreaming blog, but nothing much here. And I thought…hmmm…what kind of story should I write.

And I decided, hell, I think a lovely little tale featuring all the things that *I* enjoy about playtime.

You in?

Yeah, I thought so. 🙂

Enjoy, pervies!

love,  nilla


The slap came unexpectedly. His smile never wavered, her eyes lost in his gaze. Wincing, she gasped. It hurt.

It made her pussy leap into a sudden throbbing beat.

Another hard slap to the same cheek brought a burn to face and cunt. Tears gathered, threatened to fall.

“You like this, when I slap your slut face.”

“Yes Sir.”

Was she blushing now, or merely feeling the effect of his calm brutality. She blinked, swallowing the need to cry. It hurt. It felt grand.

He grasped her nipples pulling her to her knees on the bed. Standing beside the bed, his  height making her feel small, vulnerable, she waited. Her head spun a bit, from the blows, from the sudden burst of erotic needs. He didn’t let go as she moved closer, pinching harder. Her face crumbled as the pain became intense. Fingers slipped from her left breast as his hand moved swiftly from tit to cheek again.

The slap was the hardest yet, and she teetered, almost falling over. His hand still held her other nipple and she fretted he wouldn’t let it go if she fell. The moan slipped from her lips as her face throbbed.

His hand slipped between her thighs as she sought equilibrium.

“Fucking whore. Your cunt is soaked.”

The blow fell, at last, on her other cheek. The pulsing beat in her sore cheek and aching pussy mesmerized her. His eyes held hers as tightly as if bound by rope. She knew better than to move her hands from the small of her back where they lay as he had bid her.

His fingers pinched her nose tight, something she didn’t like all that much but he enjoyed. Her breath gasped out her mouth, her nose hurt.  Her nipple was, certainly, crushed beyond recognition.

When he let her go, she felt the loss of his touch keenly. She craved the connections of flesh to flesh. His eyes stabbed a steely gaze into hers, as if he could see inside of her, reading her desires.

His next slap hit the top of her breast, stealing her breath. He pulled no punches and she swore at him.

“OUCH, Bastard!”

He hit her again, harder, catching the swollen nipple in the blow.


“That’s better. Obviously I didn’t hit you hard enough the first time.”

She glared at him, tit throbbing, body throbbing. His hands were large, strong as fuck, brutal.

“hmmm…there’s what I was looking for. Sweet pissy slut.”

Both hands slapped her, one on her tit, the other on her abused cheek. The sting, the heat, were instantaneous.

She came, juices sluicing down her inner thighs.

He laughed, pushing her over, and filling her roughly until she came again. His thrusting strokes hurt, left her moaning and whimpering under the rough punching blows of his cock into her pussy,  until she came,  came again,  came apart from the pain of his brutal usage of her.

Sometime later, as she floated back into her body, the slow and steady drum of his handprints on her cheeks, the beat of her used cunt, her aching tits, she opened her eyes to find him looking down into hers.

“Good girl,” he murmured. He rubbed his beard over her hot face, her throat, making her whine and whimper from the tickling pain. His fingers slid into the swollen cleavage between her thighs, making her moan for a very different reason. Until reason fled and all that was left was Him and the sensations He stirred in her body.