Hired! ~20~

Last chapter here. Because, you know, it’s been a while…(sorry…) ~nilla~

Her ass was on fire, her nipples ached, and she was more turned on than she had ever been in her entire life. Flying on endorphins, she didn’t even notice when the hated chastity belt was removed, or that he’d secured her ankles to the eyebolts drilled into the floor.  Laying on her back on the mattress, her body quivering with reaction, her eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling as she zoned out on the pain.

She burned.

A soft caress made her turn her head, breaking her reverie.

“There she is.”  His tone was soft, his voice rumbling through her. She noticed then that he was laying beside her, his clothing intact.

“Why do Doms do that?” she asked, her voice wispy with reaction.

“Do…what, precisely? Where are you, little girl? Out in the stars?”

She giggled softly. Tried to move her hand to touch his shirt, turned to stare at her wrist, also bound and secured.

“When’d you do that?”

Her voice was slurry.

“Drunk on pain, are you?” He laughed softly, running his finger down her collarbone, circling around her breast, tickling the tender underside. She wiggled, giggled, tried to move away, but couldn’t.

“Tickles..” she mumbled, then giggled when his finger circled again.

“Clothes,” she said around more laughter. “Why…” She couldn’t continue, only laugh as his finger teased her underarm. “Geeze,” she whimpered, wriggling.

“Little slutty fish…wriggling and hooked. Do you know what I’m going to do now?”

Still writhing, giggling and laughing as his fingers continued to tease at her, she shook her head fiercely.  His mouth was millimeters from her ear, the breath yet another layer of torment. His tongue twirled lightly along the soft shell, making her whimper and arch.

I’m going to fuck you”, he whispered, barely making a sound. Rolling away from her, his eyes continued to drink her in as he unbuttoned his pants, dropping them to the floor. Her expression could only be described as hungry as she stared up at him, then down at the obvious straining of his underwear.

“Blue?” she giggled.

“I like blue,” he said, sticking his thumbs into the waistband.  “Of course, if you don’t, I can always find a willing slut out there who won’t be so judgmental about my choice in under garments.”

She tossed her head, no, licking her lips.

“Sure?”

For another moment he stood there, fingers in his waistband, unmoving.

“Sure,” she said, looking at him with lust.

Looking down at her, he cocked an eyebrow, started to tug down the waistband, enough for her to see the arrow of his hair. She felt herself yearning for him, wanted him in her, on her.

“VERY sure?” he asked, tugging the waistband back into place.

She nodded even more vigorously.

“Yes. Yes. VERY sure. VERY. Oh GODS PULEEZE… FUCK ME!”

“You are a naughty and wanton slut.”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure then. My blue undies won’t offend you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? They’ll offend…”

“NO! No no no no no no no! No offense at all..I…i LOVE your blue undies. I just want to see you OUT of them! I want your cock, Sir!”

“Ooooh, so you weren’t actually making fun of my blue undies, you’re saying?”

She groaned, moaned. Shook her head no. He could see the glistening pink folds between her legs.

“Pink and blue go well together, yes?”

“Yes?” she asked, uncertain where he was going now.

“My blue undies, your pink cunt.”

She flushed. Then, emboldened, “Your hard cock, my soft pussy.”

“It’s likely soft. But it’s very wet. I can imagine that my cock will make all sorts of slobbery sounds if I fuck you. Will that bother you as much as my blue undies?”

Eyes closed, head thrown back, teeth gritted, she strained at the wrist bondage.

“I. Just. Want. To. PUMMELL YOU!” she shouted, eyes open. She kicked her feet, which barely moved, and shook her body.

“FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK MEEEEE!” She yelled, cheeks flushing. He stood there, staring at her. What, how could he be that dense, she wondered. She was tied up, open and ready to be fucked. Why, for goddamn sake, was he just standing there??

He smiled.

“So, you do want me?”

She groaned.

“Fuck you!”

“I can’t fuck myself! I mean, I’m big, but not that …”

He laughed as she growled, then bared her teeth at him. With a quick tug his undies were off, and he was on top of her, his cock buried to the hilt. Her growl turned into a yelp as he pounded into her.

“I’m going to fuck you into the mattress and through the floor,” he growled, before grabbing a nipple between his teeth and biting.

“Thank gawd,” he thought he heard her say before his hips knocked all the words from her.

 

Pondering…HNT with lots of words!

Back in the early days of M and nilla, we met almost every month for the first year. It was a time of hot needs, of getting to know one another, of rushed visits between needing to be other places, of kneeling in restaurants and not caring, of the joy of wearing his collar, and the excitement of picking out outfits…

It was all so new for me. Being a submissive…discovering the words for the feelings and erotic fantasies I’d been having for so much of my life. It was as much about discovering who I was, as it was about discovering how to please Him.

Of course, eventually the new wore off, as it does.  We started to  have playtime less frequently… every other month, every 9 or 10 weeks…and now, two old farts that we are, we’re lucky to meet up 3 times a year. This fall will mark our ten years together. Almost a decade, FFS!!

And it sucks that we don’t have the same “gotta get together” vibe that we once did.  I’m pretty sure my need for him has not burned lower than it was at the start. Would  I still meet him monthly if the opportunity arose?

YOUBETCHA!

Real life, however, has other plans. Back then my kids were tiny toddlers. Now they’re well on their way to  young adulthood, and their needs have grown as well. Not the constant care of them, not like before, but in the needing to be places and often in divergent area’s…which means less free time for all of us. Free time is a bygone entity, at least for now. Added to that, that I now run my own little business, AND still work for someone else (which means I’m pretty much working somewhere every day of the week)…it definitely shorts the available time *I* have. (And of course, it’s all about me, right? LOL!)

Add to the mix that Himself is pretty busy as well.

And fuck, we’re old  not younglings ourselves. That heated fire will still consume us whenever we meet, then leaves us laying in a contented smoldering glow. We cuddle. We laugh. We touch one another. It’s sometimes nice to just be. Together.

And there’s another factor as well.

You’ve perhaps heard the adage “If you want to keep moving, keep moving” ? I think it’s the same for my libido. Sure I masturbate quite a bit. But…these days it’s almost more about helping me sleep than it is about actually getting off. Okay not all the time, but many times.

So I fall into these…phases, I guess, where I have random and fleeting thoughts of D/s, of being beaten and used, but it’s up there in the same realm as my other fantasies. If it’s not really happening, my body tends to stuff it into a sleep sack and slot it away someplace.

I stop feeling the need.

And I wonder, is it a thing of growing older? is it a thing of being so busy that I crowd it out by necessity? is it a thing that because I can’t do it as often as I want, I *make* myself too busy to miss it?

Maybe…all of the above?

All I know for sure is that I am not getting “it” as much as I’d like to. And I think I don’t need “It” after I’ve gone time with out it. I convince myself that IT doesn’t really matter at all anymore.

Until I’m scrolling through my own photos and see the things he’s done to me over the years. Until I see the bruises, remember how they got there, and realize how damp my panties are. When I see this

20180423_142626.jpg

taken a mere hour after I got home, and can still almost feel the insistent tap-tap-tapping of the wooden spoon on my tits, remember his fingers in my cunt, how he fingered me to several explosive orgasms as he sucked my nipples purple with bruises; oh yes, I remember.

Oh, those craven feelings, the want and the need and the oooohs and the Owwwwws and the flying and the bliss and the joy…that’s when I remember…

Yeah.

I still need IT.

 

Hired! ~18~

She was thrumming. As an avid reader she had often thought that any of  the books she’d read about D/s -with all those silly adjectives- were just that…silly. But her body was quite literally thrumming with anticipation. She yearned for him; his touch, his wit -even when he drove her crazy, which was about every other sentence-and even his rare smile. Through his careful application of touch, and words, and the fucking, frigging, gawd-awful annoying chastity belt, he’d made her burn with needs so intense it was painful. Or pain-empty, she thought snidely.

Normally she would object to that, to being ‘trained’ to be so needy. But here? Now? There was no denying that she wanted to scream in his face

“FUCK MEeeeeeeee!”

which would not be very dignified, and who knew how he’d react? He likely wouldn’t like being screamed at in her banshee voice, but he might enjoy that he’d driven her to the absolute end of her wits. She kept her eye on that shining key, transfixed. It held, literally and figuratively, the keys to the kingdom. Or the pussydom. Or the Dom’s pussy.

She wanted to giggle, but held it back because then she’d have to explain and she wanted to get that key!

“I see you’re holding conversations in your bobble-head again, slut,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “I wonder if I’m in any way involved?”

“I-sorry,”Sir. I was…thinking about the key. About getting out of this. About your delicious cock…”

“All to the good slut but unless you shut up..verbally AND in your head, you’ll not understand the game. If you don’t understand the game, you’ll lose, and you’ll have to wear that to work tomorrow.”

He pointed at the silver belt that fit around her waist, that blocked access to her very needy pussy. Swallowing hard, because she absolutely did not want to wear the belt to work, OMG perish the thought, she nodded, biting hard on her inner lip to silence herself.

“Better,” he said, watching her for a moment.  “I’m going to clamp your nipples. Every ten seconds, I’m going to tighten them. If you can stand it for a full two minutes, you’ll have passed your first test.”

Slowly she nodded. What choice did she have, she pondered. It was take the clamps and torture, or be stuck wearing metal panties. Flicking her nipples to draw them taut, he grasped one, and twisted it experimentally, making a ‘hmm’ as his eyes bored into hers. She winced as he tweaked hard to the right, then harder still. Nodding, he released the swollen bud, only to snap a clamp upon it.

She gasped aloud.

“Already you react? It’s going to be a very long 120 seconds then, won’t it, slut?”

She swore she could see the sadistic gleam in his eyes.

“It was just..”

Just what, she wondered. She couldn’t tell him how needy she was, not yet. Or tell him that the quick bite of the clamp had arrowed a shot of lust-pain directly to her clit.  Quirking his brow at her, he twisted the other nipple.  This time she expected the quick hit of pain, but he slowly released the lever, denying her the jolt that her body was craving.

The smirky smile danced around his mouth, tightening her resolve. She’d bear that two minutes, indeed she would.

Twist

Twist

The first ten second tightening was nothing more than a caress. By the first minute, she was squirming, her pussy throbbing, her nipples starting to burn.

Twist

Twist

As He tightened the knobs on the clamps for the tenth time, she thought her nipples were going to be crushed beyond salvation. Feeling the seconds pass with the painful pulse beating she whimpered through the eleventh and then braced for the twelfth, (thank all the gods!) and  final twist. Gritting her teeth and breathing slowly, she stared at him.

“Good slut,” he said, then flicked a finger along each clamp, setting them to bouncing. “Now, jump.”

“What?” her tone was pure shock.

“You heard me.”

Looking steadily at him, she thought about disobeying.

“It’s…going to hurt.”

“Yeahh,” he purred.

“Bastard”

Cocking his head at her, he smiled.

“Did you say something there slut?”

She shook her head and gave a half-hearted jump. Her tits wobbled and wiggled, and she groaned.

“Good practice jump. Again, but higher.”

She groaned louder, but jumped a bit higher.

“Slut. Your toes barely even left the floor. JUMP, cunt, jump. Wait. I think you need more motivation. Bend over.”

Dear gods, what had she gotten herself into? It had been so long since she’d had a play session. The last time with Asshole Andy hadn’t been playtime, but a brutal beating.  She wasn’t used to this. She…

He slapped the underside of her tits hard, as she stood there, bent at the waist. Her tits stung, and each impact set the clamps to swinging wildly as her huge breasts wobbled in response. Every blow against her under-tit made her squirm and yelp. It was finally only his hand in her hair that held her until he was finished.

“OMG!” she yelped, gasping.

Still using  her hair he pulled her upright again.

“Motivated?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yessir,” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

“Good, then get on with it.”

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. She wanted to kick him. A mutinous expression crossed her face, but she desperately wanted to get out of the damn belt. Fuck, she could prove to him that she was made of strong stuff.

She jumped.

Gritting her teeth, she whistled out a breath as her tits screamed fire from her nipples outward. He stepped up to her, grabbing each large tit in each hand, and smacked them together.

“Such lovely tits,” he said, his hands gripping the flesh tightly. He pushed them together, making her whimper low in her throat.

“Fuckable, lovely fuckable tit tunnel,” he said, before laughing and releasing her. He removed a clamp quickly, flicking the abused nipple.

“Tell me slut, which hurts worse now…the clamped nip, or the one without?”

If she could have done anything in that moment, she would have hit him, or bitten him, or something, but the two different pains had her mouth opening, closing, and silent.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you were speechless. I suppose it won’t last, but at least now I know how to have a moment’s respite…” He laughed, pleased at his own humor.

As she opened her mouth to speak, he removed the other clamp. With a gasp, she doubled over, wondering if her nipple was still on her, or stuck within the clamp. Lifting her by her chin, he kissed her, hard.

“Good slut. Step one, done.”

 

 

Hired! ~17~

“Ahah! Found you, you little cunt!”

Alex Kimbrell wrote down the address of  Jackson, LTD. She’d moved all the way to New York City, the whore. So, she was scared, a little, and needed some attention. So he would give it to her. He knew she wanted him to find her, to take her back home, by force if necessary. She was into that whole kidnap/beating scene, apparently. He wasn’t sure if this Lance Jackson had actually hired her after their conversation, but it would be a good starting place to find her. As head of his division, he was entitled to 6 weeks of vacation time. He’d use all of it, if need be, to get his little slut back. Tapping the paper with the precious address on it with one long finger, he turned back to his computer and logged in the appropriate request for time off.

“Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty,” he muttered, shoving the address into his breast pocket. It was time to make some plans.

*********************************

Her pulse was hammering, but not just in the heart beating hard between her tits. The small bud between her thighs was throbbing, matching the achy feeling of her tits and ass where he’d beaten on her yesterday. She could feel the wetness, feel the intense need building. It had begun when he’d snapped the collar around her throat, and intensified when he’d added the leash, tugging her along to the play room. But rather than taking her into the large public room, he had pulled her to a stop in front of a door.He exchanged a nod with the Watcher there, who buzzed the door open.

“Ladies–and I do use the term loosely–first.”

He gestured for her to precede him up the stairs that stretched up into another level. His fingers pinched at her calves as she climbed, causing her to stumble and yip.

“So clumsy, slut!”

Pausing, she shot him a fulminating glare before continuing up to the top. He poked her in the bum just for fun, then pushed her to the right where a door stood open.

“In there, slut.”

Stepping inside, she saw a plastic covered mattress, a built in cabinet with sheets and implements, and a variety of rings and hooks on the wall, ceiling, and the floor around the bed. She swallowed hard. The door shut with a quiet snick, and she glanced behind her. His expression had changed. He looked–feral. Fierce. His gaze, always direct, now had an intensity to it that made her feel like prey. Her belly felt quivery, a mix of fear and stark need. What this man stirred in her!

“Take off the coat, slut.”

Slowly, teasingly, she untied the knot of the tied belt, then eased it off of one shoulder. A thin black strap appeared as she shrugged the coat lower, then shook the other shoulder, allowing it to catch on her bent forearms. Cocking her head, she smiled at him.

He continued to look at her, not saying anything. After a long, silent minute, she rolled her eyes, and let the coat slip from her. Under it she wore a demi bra, which left her girls supported under the bust, but naked from the nipple upwards. The panties were black lace, and disdained to be called granny-pants. They covered the hated chastity belt, and much of her soft, round belly, and soft, round ass, but hinted at what lay between. A matching lace garter belt snugly held her hose. The stiletto’s that he’d surmised earlier, and seen going up the stairs, enhanced her softly curved thighs her shapely calves.

“Very nice. Aren’t you lucky I didn’t demand you shed the coat down in the main room?”

“Well, I would have explained…”

“And yet, I still would have demanded the coat be removed.”

Here he was, the full-Dom. Face to face with him, she wondered how she’d ever thought that Alex was? This man didn’t make her fearful, but rather, a nervous, turned-on agitation.  That he would hurt her, she had no doubt. Wasn’t she even now wearing bruises from yesterdays attack of the spatula and spoon? But he made her yearn.

“Remove the panties, leave the garter belt.”

She pouted, but slipped the panties off.

“You want that off too, don’t you?” He pointed at the chastity belt.

She nodded, eagerly anticipating the freedom. And the orgasms.

“You’ll need to earn this.”

He pulled the key up from under his shirt, let it dangle in the light. Her eyes followed the gleaming silver key. He saw the lust burn in her eyes as she leaned ever so slightly towards the shining key dangling from his neck.

“How?”

“So impatient.”

“I’ve been in this thing forEVER!”

“Not yet, no.”

“It feels like it.”

“Poor little slut. Horny as fuck and unable to touch or play with herself.”

“Yes. And … you haven’t…”

“What?”

“You know.”

“I know many things.”

She rolled her eyes. She hated when he played the obtuse game.

“You haven’t…sealed the deal. You know. Stop! I hate that when you put on that stupid face!”

“The Jerkface Jackson face, you mean?”

He pulled a long face, bugged out his eyes. She giggled, thought about slapping at him, but didn’t quite dare.

“Yes, that one. That…jerkface face.”

He stepped closer, into her personal space. She could feel the heat from him now, his breath on her forehead.

“Hands behind your back, slut.”

They went behind, promptly. He stepped around her, then bound her hands, of course with a tie. She could feel the slippery silk, but also felt him weaving it over and around her tightly.

“So tell me, slut, what haven’t I done?”

“The..ga-donk-a-donk. The crazy monkey dance. Belly bumping.”

“Ah. I see.”

She warmed to the topic.

“Boinking! Buttering the biscuit! Checking the oil…”

“Fucking. You forgot that one.”

He reached around, pinched her left nipple.

“Say it.”

“It.”

He twisted the nipple.

“Ittt…OKAY…OKAYYYYY!!!  FUCK!  YOU HAVEN’T FUCKED ME!”

He let go of her nipple, flicking it gently with a fingertip. She sighed.

“Now I’m all embarrassed.”

“But it’s true. I haven’t fucked your cunt yet. Your lovely mouth, yes, but not your weeping, needy cunt.”

He paused and she leaned back against him. He filled his hands with her tits, molding and squashing them between his fingers. She sighed as he released her, and pushed away.

“Now slut, let me tell you how this works.”

“Oh, please do,” she said, her tone teetering on the edge of sarcastic.

“That wasn’t very submissive, now was it?”

“I’m not a doormat. I have a voice. I can follow orders and directions, but I’m going to speak my mind.”

Stepping in front of her, he grasped her nipples, twisting lightly. She rose to her toes, until her mouth, open and gasping, was close to his.

“Good girl,” he said, surprising her. “Doormats are boring. I like your spunk.”

“I like yours too,” she replied archly.

He laughed, then twisted her nipples, hard.

 

Hired! ~10~

y’all have stuck with this for 9 chapters without ANY sex. That’s over 10,000 words, you guys!  I’m so happy that you’re reading, and commenting and loving this tale. You’re wait is about to be over…. ~n~ oh…and today is my birthday…but I’m giving you all the gift! Enjoy!

 

The room was designed to look like the interior of an old barn, all wood beams, studs, and rustic boards. Around the room were alcoves, formed by thicker beams. They weren’t private, but they were intimate, she thought. Eyeing the heavy iron rings, nails, and hooks, she licked her lips. He watched her take in the great space, feeling himself harden when that wily tongue slipped over her shapely mouth. He could see the need within her, feel her fascination with the variety of straps and chains which hung near each station. He led her to one niche, pushing her against the wall. The heat of his body settled against her ass. She wiggled against him, smiling to herself. His hand, still holding her tie-wrapped wrists, pulled them up over her head. Hanging in this particular space were a pair of heavy cuffs, hung on a length of chain. Pausing a moment, he felt her bum press hard into his groin and wiggled.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered into her hair, slapping her bum.

“Me?” she said, her voice a husky tease as she looked over her shoulder at him. “I was just warming up.”

“Indeed,” he said wryly. She had certainly warmed up parts of his anatomy. Now it was time to return the favor. He slipped each wrist into a cuff, sliding away his tie. He looped it around her throat, the ends trailing down her back.  Pressing forward, he squashed her against the roughness of the wall, centering his shaft on her buttcrack, and moved suggestively along that welcoming valley.  When she moaned, he took a step back. Time to dance, he thought.

He lifted her chin, serious now.

“Yes? Or no?”

She gazed at him a moment, looking into his eyes, then at his mouth, before returning to his eyes. Smiling slightly, her lips parted.

“Yes.”

He nodded, accepting her acquiescence.

“Safe-word?”

She’d pondered that, actually. She couldn’t use “red”…that had been her safeword with Alex, and it conjured up too many hard memories.

“Ouch?” she said at last, grinning cheekily.

“Oh, I think you’ll be saying that far to often for that to be a good choice. Besides, with that “ouch” comes the pleasure. Would you deny yourself that?”

He made a good point, damn him. It was interesting seeing the Dom-mode begin to suffuse him. There’d been flashes, to be sure, but this was way more intense. He wasn’t scary-Dom, but he was…

Something.

More primal, perhaps. Eyes sharp and keen. It was body language and a way he had of engaging visually.

“I see the wheels turning again, Ms. Bobblehead.”

“Oh, right, safe-word. Uhm…” she paused, and he wondered what was coming out of that cheeky mouth next. Her eyes were dancing.

“What about asshole?”

He grinned, shook his head.

“You’re a smartass to the core, aren’t you? No. A word you’ll remember.”

“Oh, I have no problem remembering to call you an asshole,” she said sweetly. “I already have, many times.”

“You may want to remember your position here, little girl. You’re rather…vulnerable… just now, yes?”

She thought he might smack her ass then, give her a taste of what she needed. Her mouth formed into a round () of surprise at his next move.

He reached out then, and firmly tugged down the top of her dress. Her tits popped free, bobbing back and forth as if to entice his touch. He gave a quick slap to the top of each, making her gasp. He slapped at the sides, but couldn’t get a good angle. She was too close to the wall for him to get a good swing going. Moving behind her, he tugged her hips back, forcing her to bend. Her tits swung in the air. He reached for something, she couldn’t see from the angle, but the slap of a crop against the underside of her breast was familiar, and painful. There was no sound for some minutes as he beat her tits, top, sides, bottom. When he paused, she was breathing heavily.

“Was there a word, miss?”

She shuddered a deep breath into her lungs, her tits blazing fire. For a long moment she couldn’t even remember her name let alone a word. A word. A safe-word. Right. She thought she might cum right then and there. A quick slap of the crop on her nipple made her gasp.

“Mercy!.” She yelped out the word.

“Good choice,” he said, then returned to slapping at her tits. He alternated using the crop and his hands in equal measure. She thought she would scream with the hurt, but the pleasure of it held her silent other than moans and gasps. Finally, when she thought she was going to have to cry her safe-word, he stopped. How these Tops knew the breaking point was a mystery to her.

“Good girl,” he crooned, rubbing her aching breasts, his crotch coming to rest hard against her ass. And she could feel him. Feel the rock hard jut of his cock against her rear. She was salivating at the thought of that hardness sliding between her thighs and soothing the fire he’d managed to light in her pussy.

His hands slid down her sides, then hooked into the hem of the bandage dress. Lifting it slowly, she wanted to scream ‘hurry, please, touch me’, but held onto herself. Gawd, but he was taking his time, his fingers sliding over her round belly, trailing along the curve of her hips, the tops of her thighs.

“Please,” she moaned, pressing herself back against him.

“You know,” he said conversationally,  “I think this is the most pleasant you’ve ever been to me! Even saying ‘please’. It’s very out of character, you know.”

A long moan escaped as his hands teased up her inner thigh, stopping just short of where she most needed to be touched.

“Are you becoming a greedy slut?” he asked, his tone deepening. He could smell her arousal, feel the heat in her groin. His fingers moved an inch closer. She was quivering, her ass pushing out hard against him.

“Oh, please,” she whimpered.

His hands lifted, cupping her tits and flicking the nipples with his thumbs. He was holding her hard against him, his fingers kneading the tender flesh, constantly fluttering over her erect nips.

“Be right back,” he said cheerily, and stepped away.

He could hear her groan from across the room, and he smiled broadly. She heard him approach, hope blooming.

“Oh, by the way,  could you hold this for me until I come back?”

He slid the crop handle between her thighs, lifting it tight against her pussy. She ground down on it, rubbing her clit, moaning as he snugged it close. OH gawd, so close,she thought, trying to move to the best position.

He lowered the crop to mid-thigh.

“That’s better. Don’t want you leaking all over that,” he said. And he laughed. The asshole.

“Oh, and KittyCat? Don’t drop it. You won’t want to find out what happens if you do.”

The sound of his footsteps moving away made her want to scream. She wanted to shift position, to rub herself on something, anything. But if she moved, she’d drop the crop.  And his warning had been delivered in full-on Dom voice. Which made dropping the damn thing all the more tempting. The devious bastard!

 

*****************************************

 

 

 

Hired! ~9~

He wondered, very briefly, which of them was in control at this moment. She was a mash up of shy/bubbly, bossy/submissive.

And she was being a massive cock tease.

It would be a lie to himself to not admit that she had grabbed him by the short and curlies with that one, naughty whisper,

“I’m not wearing any”

when he’d asked her to remove her panties. So much for her prim and proper act, he mused as he slid into the drivers seat.

“So, dancing?” she said, her eyes twinkling as she snigged her seatbelt into the lock.

“Oh indeed,” he replied as he buckled his own. For just a heartbeat they were facing each other. His fingers snagged her chin and he pulled her closer still, then kissed her mouth. It was firm, but brief. He felt her yielding, leaning just a bit further into his space. He shrugged mentally, then deepened the press of his mouth to hers, spearing his tongue into her mouth and tasting her.

His other hand wanted to rise, wanted to take her breast and pinch and tug it, wanted to mimic what his mouth was doing to her lips. But he broke the kiss off, and started the car.

“Dancing, coming right up,” he said.

*************************************************

It was ridiculous. His kiss had her all stirred up. She was horny, and needy, and that was on her, but that didn’t mean she needed to roll out the red carpet to her pussy just because his lips were magical.

Not magical, for geeze sake.

Not.

Just….she paused in her thinking attempting to tamp down her suddenly raging desire.  He gave a fucking damn good kiss. She could live with that. But boy, she had wanted him to yank her out of her seat, maul her tits, make her sit on his lap and ride him until they were both a messy pile of sweat and…

She broke off that thought, too. Clenching her thighs, she gave herself a stern talking-to.

You are not going to get involved here.

This guy fired you,  for fucks sake!

Okay, maybe he didn’t actually fire you, but he started it.

She rolled her eyes at herself.
“I’m beginning to see that when you go through all these head gestures, that you’re carrying on some sort of internal dialogue. Am I featured in it?”

His voice jolted her back to awareness. Where were they, anyway? She wasn’t that familiar with town, and in the darkness it was hard to say where, exactly, they were.

“What?” she said, realizing that he was awaiting her reply.

“Oh, no,” she said immediately. “No, you weren’t in the conversation.”

“I’m aware. Since I was silent and you were bobbling your head like…one of those bobble-head dolls.”

Her shoulders straightened. This, this was the thing he did that so got under her skin! He compared her to the stupidest things! She would not even dignify that with a reply, just turned a steely glare at him.

He laughed, of course.

“You’re a child,” she said.

“We’re here.”

She looked out the window. He’d driven her to the club. Her mouth opened, closed. If she said anything, he’d know that she …what she…

She could almost hear Savannah in her head saying ‘so what if he knows? why not enjoy the ride?’

Well. She breathed deeply as he exited the car, coming to her door like a gentleman. Which he wasn’t.  The door opened, and his hand appeared.

“You’re not a gentleman.”

“Sure I am. Here.”

He knew. He knew that she knew what this place was. And was warning her that this nice guy stuff ended at the door. A flush of nerves ran down her spine, fast as heat-lightning dashing across a summer sky.

In for a penny… she breathed, and took his hand.

*******************************************************

They weren’t even stopped at the door. One head nod to himself and the bouncer just pressed the damn buzzer to allow them entry. When she’d come in, there’d been a barrage of questions. Which she totally understood. But the head nod, that indicated that he wasn’t just a casual visitor. He was known here. He gave her no more time to ponder; sliding his arm around her lower back, he guided her inside.

They walked into a wall of noise. Conversations pitched to be heard over a thumping beat.  He guided her to the bar, leaned over.

“Mamma,” he yelled to the woman who had counseled Kat earlier in the week.

“My prince has arrived,” she crowed, hustling down the length of the bar with a welcoming grin. “Oh, and look who you have with you. Hello again, my little friend! You’re in good hands with this one,” she winked, gesturing with a finger bedecked with a series of thin gold rings to her knuckle. “Just exactly who I would have picked for you, little one.”

“MammaLa,” Kat said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I thought he was taking me dancing.”

“There are all kinds of dancing, yes?” Mamma laughed loudly as Kat threw a quick glance behind her shoulder.

“Mamma,” He chided. “Don’t scare her off…that’s my job.”

“I am not scared of you, not one bit,” she said, her back stiffening.

“Not yet, he said, his voice faux-foreboding.

“That’s the worst Vincent Price impression I’ve ever heard,” she said.

“You attempt to deflate my ego yet again. C’mon, let us dance.”

He tugged her arm and twirled her in a fast spin.

“But not here, I think.”

With another of those nods to yet another Watcher, they passed through a door marked PRIVATE, leaving the main bar behind. Neither saw MammaLa’s wide grin as she watched.

“There’s gonna be some fun there. Those two were tossing sparks off of each other like a summer meadow of fireflies!”

*********************************************

“You know.”

They were sitting in a corner of a large room. A room filled with a wide-ranging group of people, and a huge assortment of toys and equipment. Toys mean for pain, for pleasure.

“Of course.”

They locked gazes until a particularly loud shriek from across the room caused her to drop her eyes first. Damn him,  she thought.

“How? I mean…Alex?”

“Of course not. Do you think I listened to anything he said about you? I knew after a few very short minutes that he and you had been intimately involved, and that it didn’t end well. And here you are, a thousand plus miles from him, which speaks volumes, Katherine.”

She guessed she hadn’t thought of that, really.

“I wanted a change.”

His thumb caressed that sliver of skin between her thumb and forefinger. She hadn’t even realized he was still holding her hand. When she would have tugged it free, he would not relinquish it.

“Mine. For now. Don’t fight me. Just be, Kat. Remember, NO is always an option.”

The pause was to allow her time to say it, but she couldn’t. The groundswell of need was rushing through her, flooding her with feelings and sensations she’d thought she’d put away.

“So you came here a few days ago. I was driving in as you were driving out. You didn’t see me, but I did see you. And it clicked for me.”

“Well….” What could she possibly say to that. “I’m probably going back home.”

“Really? When you have such a great job, with a delightful boss?”

“You are not a delight.”

Now she did tug her hand free.

“You’re dictatorial, unorganized, refuse to relinquish control of anything to anyone.”

“Which is why I need you.”

“You say that now, when we’re here…” she waved her hand around the room. “I’ve done that dance before, mister, and it didn’t work so well for me.”

“It is hard to fuck the boss.”

She blinked.

“Well…when you put it that way, yes. It’s nearly impossible to have a relationship…a working relationship…and a sexual relationship with the same person.”

“I rather think that depends on the people involved. Your last lover was an asshole. As a boss? Totally an asshole. What I do here is not the same as out there in the real world. There has to be a distinction, Katherine. I can’t go around asking for you to work on your hands and knees and still run my company professionally. For all I teased you before, I simply can’t be your sexual partner at work. We’d have to turn all that off. But here? Or at home? Oh, that’s where the fun begins.”

“So, you’re saying there’s no fun at work?”

“Blowjobs under the desk? Your panties in my pocket,  fucking over my desk? Not likely! There’s always so much work that needs doing, as you may recall.”

“That’s exactly why you needed me. You need to trust me, and delegate…not just to me but to others on the staff. We’re there to help you, you jerk.”

“Did you just call your boss a jerk?”

“Mr. Jerkface Jackson, right? If the name fits…”

“You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?”

She smirked at him. He mimicked her expression. She broke first, again, and dissolved into giggles.

“Your face,” she said between laughs. “OMG, you’re such a nutjob! I wish I didn’t like that about you.”

“You’re a smartass. I wish I didn’t like that about you.”

He rose from the table, and took her, not by the hands, but by the wrists.

“Now, my dear, I think it’s time we dance.” 

“You’re going to play all suited up like that?” she queried, in part to tamp down the mix of nerves and lust.

“No, I’m going to the men’s room to go don my leather pants and bare my chest.” He puffed out his pec’s and she giggled again.

“You are not!” she laughed.

“What, you think I can be a Dom without my skintight leather pants?” She laughed harder.

“I doubt you need to play dress up, but if it’s what you need, far be it from me to stop you.”

He tugged her hard so that she fell against him. His mouth brushed her ear as he whispered

“that is not what I need, little girl.”

His mouth moved down the column of her neck to the tender place where neck and shoulder met. His lips traced a tickley line there, making her shiver and giggle at the teasing sensation.

When his teeth closed on the damp flesh, she moaned, then squealed as the ache built. His hands had let her arms go, but they came to her shoulders, holding her close as he nipped his way back to her ear. A hand grabbed her hair, yanking her head back, and baring her throat to his mouth. Kisses and bites moved slowly across the soft flesh, around and up to her jaw, before he found her mouth again.

He took. He ravaged. He pillaged. She moaned.

When he stepped back, she stood, swaying, trying to get her bearings. The bites gave a gentle throb, matching the one that was growing between her thighs. OH, this was a bad idea, she thought, but there was no way she was stopping now.

Her hand touched her bottom lip, swollen from his savage mouth. She felt the hard nubs of her nipples, yearning for his touch. He had her, she knew it. She would be mad at him later, for certain. Her eyes followed his hands as they slipped of his suit coat, laying it carefully over the chair, as he rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, as he slipped the tie from around his neck and advanced towards her. Those hands! How she wanted them on her.

“Let me?” he asked, holding the tie out.

Without a trace of reluctance, she placed her wrists upon it. He tugged a slip knot around  them, pulled her close for a moment and kissed her nose, then led her across the floor.

 

Hired! ~4~

Nursing her rum and cola, she scanned the crowd. There were the usual suspects, she concluded. A D/s club in the middle states was largely the same, excepting that there were more masked guests back home. It wouldn’t do for Mr. Jones at the bank to be outed as a sub-puppy, after all. But here in the city where it felt like everyone was anonymous? No one wore a mask. There were leather clad folks, some very obvious Dom-types, subs in various forms of undress and bondage gear, and a few nondescript men and women. She called this latter group the “lookers”, and recognized ruefully that she was part of that group. No Dom to follow, no subsister to hang with, she was as adrift as the woman currently kneeling hopefully at the feet of a bare-chested man, who didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

She hated that.

Hated the posturing, the group of Tops who made subs feel abjectly worthless. It was one thing to be in a scene and being called a fuck hole, but to be ignored so blatantly just bugged the shit out of her, despite her personal motto of “fuck your own fuck”. Not to be all judgy about it, but it was definitely not her thing. At least now she knew which group of Doms to ignore.

“Refill, missy?” The buxom woman with a head full of amazing fine braids that fell to her waist leaned on the counter. “Or just some heads-up chat?”

“I’ll take the chat, please,” she replied with a smile.

MammaLa laid her hand over Kats, patting it gently.

“Newbie?” she asked.

“No, just new to the area. Finding my way, I guess. You think you can ignore the need, right?”

“But cha can’t, can you?” The woman shook her head slowly, back then forth. The waterfall of black, shiny braids danced with her every movement. “It’s like a hunger in the blood, girl-child. Oh, sure, you can push it down. Pretend it’s not there. But someday, when you will be most inconvenienced with it, you’ll suddenly see or hear or feel something and the horny need will rise up!”

“Yesss!”  Katherine all but moaned. She had tried to tamp it down. She’d given up her job, her apartment, her friends, her home, and run all this way to start over. To start over as a “normal” woman. Even though, deep in her core, she believed having these wanton needs was normal,  her normal,  but by societal standards? She was fucked up. And here she was, sitting in a D/s club. It appeared that denying “her normal” and trying to live by those rigid standards of propriety wasn’t going to work for her here, or anywhere. And it was most definitely inconvenient that the “do it” voice of her boss was the switch that had turned her back on.

“I’m glad you came in tonight, girl. I always love to chat with the new folks. Of course you said you weren’t new-new, but you know how I mean it.”

“I do. I just…well, truthfully, I just came out of a bad relationship. He wasn’t a good Dom, at least not to me. And I thought he was perfect…for a while. I just am afraid that once I get a taste of the pain, I’ll lose my head, you know?”

“So, you’re afraid of the fall…and afraid of what you find when you land, right? Tell me what you see here?” MammaLa gestured around the room. Her long, thick fingers were beautiful in motion, and for a passing moment Kat wished she was at least bi-sexual, just to feel those amazing digits on her body. She cleared her mind of that, then looked around the room again.

“I see all of them. Posers, and players, and wanters. I don’t see anyone I’d trust enough to touch me, at least not tonight.”

“You have a good eye on you, girl-child. Upstairs is where the serious folks are most nights. These folks are all looking for something that they haven’t found yet. Lucky for you, they haven’t looked over here to see you as fresh meat. If you come back on a weekend? Whole big group of folks. Harder to keep track of everyone, and the play-party is open to all. You might consider coming back then. But smart, girly, very smart to suss out the scene on a quieter night. You come back and see me on Saturday and we’ll see if we can hook you up for some play time, kay?”

With a last pat on her hand, MammaLa worked her way back to the far end of the bar. Kat wasn’t sure, but it felt like she’d been summarily dismissed. With a quick grin, she laid a bill on the counter under her glass, and slid off the stool. She had a lot to think about, for sure. She slipped quietly from the room, and headed out to her car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He drove down the street to the club. It was time to put “Mr. Jackson” to bed for the night and let Master Dirk out for some much needed play time.  Stretching his back as he maneuvered his truck down the back streets, he thought back to these last two weeks and the reason why he was so taut.  A certain redhead, with big tits and a curvy bottom and the most prickly attitude had been intruding into his thoughts far too frequently.  He needed a bit of release, a bit of whip work perhaps. He’d see who was up and out tonight. Melinda was often available for single play.

A small car headed his way. He hoped it wasn’t Mel, as she was the best recipient for the whip. But the car that drew abreast of him as they passed one another in the night was not Melinda’s. He turned into the parking lot, grinning. For just a moment, the flashing neon light had illuminated her face, though he doubt she’d noticed him, looking straight ahead as she was. His ever so efficient secretary, Katherine. He’d missed her by minutes. But now he knew.

“Hot damn!” he laughed to himself, before sliding out of his car and heading into the club.

 

Porn Rant ~ Kink Your Own Kink…but…

So when a slut is deprived of stimulation from her Master, and when that slut is needy, she needs to find other ways to amuse herself. What better way, I ask, than *looking* at porn?

I started on Tumblr a bit ago (I don’t keep track of this stuff!), and reblog on occasion. But I have a few raunchy people that I follow, including several c-n-c rape blogs (are they called blogs? or just tumblrs? I dunno!) some slavery type ones, and some that are just creepy.

Last night, though I was exhausted beyond measure, and had no energy to even think about an orgasm, I nonetheless scrolled through Tumblr before turning off my light. Several posts were hot, per usual, but then there was The. One.

The one that grossed me out beyond measure.

I’m okay with D/s that does knifeplay, including cutting. I’m okay with D/s that whips to blood, and I’m okay (though squicked out immensely) with tit nailing. (Yes, it’s a thing, who knew?) I simply scroll through those quickly and shudder.

But the one with the knife, needle and “nipple-less slut” written across her tits?

No.

That crosses a line into maiming and abuse for this sub-girl. That’s where my inner feminist, who is fine with being pissed on, and face-fucked until puking and other degrading things, rears up and says “whoa there a minute, you.”

Like really…who the fuck thinks its okay to cut the nipples off a woman for fun? 

Sure, D/s can be serious. Can be deeply kinky. And yes, yeah, blah blah blah, nilla, who do you think you are criticizing a Dominant for doing whatever he wants with his slut.

Who am I?

I’m a woman. One who loves who she is, and trust her Dom to take care of her, to abuse her carefully, if you will. Sure, he’s going to hurt me. Sure, he’s going to mark me, and give me more orgasms than I think I can handle, and it will hurt and be good and I’ll ache for days afterwards.

But he would never in a million years permanently disfigure me by cutting off my nipples.

I mean, what’s the fucking point of that?!

How can it even be remotely amusing to do this to a person (no matter that she’s a slut or slave or pig or whatever name is being used)? Aren’t hurting a sluts nipples something that Dom’s/Tops like to do?

Okay, so that’s the first one, and it truly disturb(s) me. But wait, there’s more.

There’s the one that I saw last week, a whole photo array of a clit being injected. Saline? Who knows. It gets larger in every single photo until it’s huge. The next picture is of a razor blade. And the last one is of the severed clit, with the caption “you won’t be needing that any more.”

I’ll let you think about that for a moment.

I’m into kink because it makes me feel good. Because of the high, because of the endorphins, because I have this wacky wiring that makes me like to be beaten and fucked and …

that’s as far as it goes.

Yeah, I know there’s risk when you become a submissive to someone. That they can harm you. That they could kill you. I get it. I do. I was once desperate and foolish and met a man I’d only been talking to for a few months on the internet without ever really seeing his picture, or knowing him for real. No coffee dates in public, just a meeting in a room in a hotel and 9 hours of being fucked and kissed and hurt and …he became my Master.

I. Do. Not. Get. This.

Is this kink extreme? Is it abuse? Is it misogyny in the extreme?I think about those young girls in Africa who are taken out to the bush and have their clitoris removed by an elder woman because they are not allowed to enjoy sex, to have an orgasm, to feel any pleasure. I remember the need to vomit that I felt when I first heard of this genital brutality.

I can’t condone it. I can’t un-see it. I can’t understand it.

Isn’t the underlying piece of this thing we do, for all of us to feel pleasure of some kind? It’s not a game to me. It is NOT a game. Yet from my weight of years, and from 14 years of celibacy in my marriage, I cannot see that this sort of thing is anything about pleasure. Yeah, I know people give up having orgasms to please one’s Top. I get that that’s part of some peoples kink.

But to NEVER feel pleasure ever again?

Peeps.

Life is short. Shorter than you can even believe, and the days roll past so quickly. I hope that you don’t spend them all in denial of life’s greatest gift. I know I won’t. I hope I’m still having orgasms 20 years from now, and beyond…but I will never, ever, forget seeing that poor severed clit, and not feel the need to weep for that poor girl.

 

 

“Give Me…”

His finger circles my clit. I’ve come, and it’s sensitive and I’m hot and slippery and needy. Again. He laughs at my obvious need, his fingers pinching, squeezing the bulbous sex button before slipping back down my sodden slit.

A solitary finger enters me.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls softly into my ear.

The single finger is joined by another, then a third. Slowly he pushes into me, rubbing against my spot until I’m arching.

He pulls out, and I’m left gasping, right on the edge.

I may have called him a fucking bastard then. His hand rises to my mouth.

“Taste,” he says, “taste yourself on my fingers.”

A finger slides across my bottom lip.

“Salty,” he says, “Sweet.”

“you, girl. That’s you.”

Slowly he presses the other digits into my mouth, across my tongue, down towards my throat, almost-but-not-quite gagging me.

Just as those salty-sweet slicked fingers had caressed my cunt, so now did they fuck my mouth as my tongue swirled and flicked over them, cleaning him. He laughs, a soft chuckle of sound, then pulls them free.

“Here,” he says, turning my head with his free hand. His mouth takes mine, lips barely touching before he pulls back a fraction of space.

“Give me. Give me…” His word is a fierce yet quietly growled order.

“More,” he demands, lips against my mouth. I press my lips harder against his. Our mouths suck and take greedily from one another. I moan as he sucks my aching tongue hard, then bite his lip when he frees it.

As our mouths mate, his fingers press into my pussy and begin the dance of lust again.

 

Hurts…So Much, So Good

I am an aching, bruised mess.

My hair is mussed. Tied into tangles and knots it will take a deep conditioning to untangle. Seriously…it was soooo bad when he finally let me up off the bed, that I looked like I’d been electrocuted! Long hair scrubbed all over the damn bed makes for one powerful, somewhat terrifying case of bedhead!

My body hurts, just about everyplace you can imagine. (And I know you all have wonderful imaginations!)

He spanked me long and hard. I felt the tension ease away, even as the pain built. He spanked my ass multiple times through the day, then later near the end of playtime, my pussy.

And oh, the pussy smacking. It was brutal and hard. The harder he attacked my cunt, the closer the intense need grew. I came just from that. He called me a cunt over it, and laughed. It still surprised him that I orgasm from having my pussy beaten. And not once. Twice, my pervie peeps.

Well, actually. Uhm…(maybe he’s right and I really AM  cunt?!)

Okay, three times.

And after that third time, he pushed me down, pinning me and roughly finger fucked me to many, many more orgasms. Until I moaned at the slightest touch on my poor battered girl bits.

And then he did it again.

Now i sit, a slut filled with pain- from throbbing cunt to aching ass, from battered tits to pinched and bitten arms and shoulders. Exhausted. Used up. Made to cum too many times to count, made to scream and cry and whimper as he slapped the fuckity fuck right out of me.

Okay, he tried. I was still impudent, wildly silly, and at times, a growly beast with him. (To his utter delight!)

There are many stories to tell, but for now, this very tired, very sore slut is going to bed.

And smiling.