Sunday Texting, In Which He Totally Cracks Me Up

Master was away much of the weekend, and our texting time was very limited. Yet in only a few words, He can utterly destroy any pique I’m feeling, and transmogrify it into humor. And yes, I was feeling more than a bit grumpy about M’s new “use it or lose it” policy regarding my Tuesday orgasm opportunity….

 

me:  Do you realize that it’s been 13 days since I last had an orgasm Master?     (In reference to the fact that I fell asleep last Tuesday before I could snag my weekly O…)

M: Forget about the orgasms…you need to focus on staying awake.

 

(Hysterical laughter from my car as I read this to myself)

What. The. Fuck. (Viewpoint 3)

with deepest appreciation to that searcher who was looking for aliens sucking tits…and to my boon friend, Will Crimson…he’s my go-to guy, fellow author, with as much insight into Tentaclalia as anyone I know. It’s great to have a friend who will tell you exactly how many times one used the word “goop” in one’s writing…(trust me, this is a GOOD thing!)…and laugh at your funny bits. You’re one in a million, Will, and I thank you for your wacky mindset that really coalesces with mine…we’re weird fucks, to be sure, but we sure have fun with it!  ~nilla~

 

*He adjusts the microphone one last time, as the pretty young woman moves to sit across from him. She looks nervous, but he notices her curvy tits, the pretty curl of her hair, and the lovely round shape of her ass as she sits. Clearing his throat, he dives into the interview*

“Do you mind if I record this? I like to be certain that I properly quote people in my stories.”

“ah, I…sure, I guess…” She looks, if possible, even more uncomfortable than she did when she entered the room.

“You know how papers like mine get such a bad rap, making up stories, putting up topless pictures of celebrities and the like. But at the Daily View we pride ourselves in reporting accuracy.”

“uhm…okay, sure. Look, I’m not really totally sure about this–”

“Please! Oh, no..stay…really. Your little……{pausing, he leans forward, covering the mic, and whispers to her} …

“you know we can’t mention those social media sites by name or we have to pay royalties…”

“oh. uh…okay…”

“Your –we’ll call it a “blurb”– was circling the globe, you know. Rather like an alien spaceship might, amiright?”

He smiles in what he hopes is a winsome manner, nodding his head at his cleverness. It isn’t everyday he gets to interview the woman who tweeted that she’d been screwed by aliens. He wonders if he could get in her pants as easily as some “alien” did. He watches her body language as he continues to dive into the checklist of questions on his clipboard. He is sure he’ll trip her up, and this will be a waste of his time…unless he gets to fuck her. She is a prime piece, he muses, his gaze slipping from her ankles to the secret place hidden by the hem of her skirt.

She blushes, crossing her legs at the ankle and tucking them under the chair. Her purse is pulled up high on her lap almost defensively.

“You know, young woman, it isn’t everyday that someone tells the world that she was …raped…by an alien. And for it to be retwe….shared, I mean…the million plus times that it was? My dear, you’re an overnight sensation! Maybe for that alien, too, eh?”

He grins at her, but his attempt at humor goes unappreciated.

“It happened. I remember it. Clearly. I might have been out of my head with it, but–”

“With…”IT”…. can you describe that a bit more for us?”

Her voice drops again, as her discomfort grows.

“It. The thing. It gave me…you know.”

“Chlamydia? Herpes?”

“No!” she stares at him, indignant. Taking a deep breath, she continues.

“Orgasms. It gave me a zillion orgasms. When it raped me.”

“Pardon me, miss, but the two see mutually exclusive.”

“It made me drink stuff. And it…affected me.”

His eyebrows raise. He hadn’t heard this part before.

“Tell me more. Wait. What did It look like? Did you suck it’s dick?”

She covers her face with her hand, hiding her eyes. Her voice is muffled by it.

: BOB!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WATCHING?:

:NOTHING:

:FUCK IF YOU AREN’T…WAIT…ISN’T THAT CARSON’S LAST MOTHER? THE FUCK…IT IS HER…WHAT THE FUCK?:

{sound of toggling of switches, and a voice booms through the ship: CARSON TO THE BRIDGE CODE RED}

“It –wasn’t like us…at all…it was…goop. It could make shapes…it went into my mouth and …and…injected me with something goopy that I had to drink and..”

“But did it have a penis? Was it HUGE like they show on those overseas pornos?”

:I DON’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS. CARSON!!! YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU BLOCKED HER MEMORY. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?:

:uhm…I dunno Captain, I just got here, remember? I had to …well Yani was in my quarters and you know how…avidly she secretes…But I de-slimed and came up here as soon as you called me. I have no idea why but I came up here…:

He is interrupted by his nearly apoplectic captain pointing a tentacular finger at the big vid screen that he’d uploaded from Bob’s viewscreen.

:LOOK AT THE FUCKING SCREEN:

:Cap’n sir, uh..you kind of just spit on me…:

:CARSON! FUCKING FOCUS HERE. SHE REMEMBERS! THIS IS A FUCKING DISASTER (SOUNDS OF LIQUID SLOSHING ABOUT):

:Cap’n…maybe you should stop pacing…you’re kind of …uhm…:

:KIND OF WHAT? (HE SOUNDS PISSED):

:er…well Sir…..you’re kind of rolling around like a tsunami, sir.There’s…uhm…you’re leaving a trail, Captain.. And okay yeah, that’s my last mother down there talking to a .. OH FUCKING JUPITER!!!!:

:I SEE YOU FINALLY GROK THE SERIOUSNESS OF THE MATTER:

:You have to send me back. I have to stop it. I …:

:ARE YOU FUCKING OUT OF YOUR MIND? SEND YOU BACK TO YOUR FUCK UP? DO YOU HAVE any IDEA WHAT HEADQUARTERS WILL DO TO ME OVER THIS? YOU’LL GET DEMOTED, SENT PLANET-SIDE AND MIGHT BE SORTING  PUKA PEARLS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. ME? I’LL BE SCUTTLED AND BECOME FRIKKING METEOR SHOWERS EVERY 78 YEARS. THIS IS BEYOND BAD. I’M GOING TO HAVE TO SPRAY THE ENTIRE ATMOSPHERE WITH FORGET-ME-NOTS. THOSE FUCKING FLOWERS WILL BE EVERYWHERE, FROM THE NORTH POLE TO THE AMAZON JUNGLE:

There is an audible gasp in the room.

:YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!! HOLY HALCYON!  YOU’LL HAVE ELEPHANTS MATING WITH TIGERS, AND HUMANS MATING WITH DOGS AND CHAOS, MAN…IT WILL BE BORNE OF THIS ONE CRITICAL DECISION!:

:SHUT UP BOB:

:humans mating with dogs? Holy Jupiter, Bob. Where do you get these thoughts from?:

:AND HE FUCKING OOZES ALL OVER EVERYTHING. JUST. STOP. BOB.:

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

“I’m sorry, you were saying..?” The reporter tries to get her to lower her hands, and respond.

“I…it…there was…”

She rises in a quick motion, almost upsetting the small coffee table between them.

“Look,” she says, her face crimson. “It was a hoax. Nothing happened. I just broke up with my boyfriend and thought I’d just…you know. Get famous and make him regret dumping me.”

He blinks. Well, thank GAWD he wouldn’t have to write this story up. He knew the boss was mad at him for boffing his sister, but for fucks sake, to sic him on an alien fucking story?

“Oh. Oh. Well, then okay.”

“Really?” She looks at him, nervous. She didn’t know why she’d thought this was a good idea anyway. He was kind of cute, in a way. He was a bit obnoxious, but didn’t that just mean he was confident?

“No worries. It happens. Ya get caught up in the excitement and here I am trying to get your…story.”

He pauses, his eyes on her tits. Was it his imagination, or were they bigger than when she’d first come in?

“So….since we’re not doing the interview, it would be shame to let this hotel go to waste. I can order us some room service…some wine on the paper’s tab wouldn’t be a bad thing, right?”

He runs a finger down her wrist.

:you’ve got to be kidding me:

:SAVED BY THE FUCKING BELL! I’M NOT SURE WHAT WENT ON DOWN THERE JUST NOW, BUT SHE BACKED OFF…:

:someone’s gonna get lucky…won’t have to play pocket polo tonight:

:geezuz Bob:

:SHUT UP BOB. BOY DID WE DODGE A BULLET THERE. IF I’D HAD TO DEPLOY THE FORGET ME NOTS I’D BE FUCKED:

:I think you’re not the one getting fucked tonight, Boss:

:THAT’S CAPTAIN, YOU IDIOT:

:I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to call you an idiot, sir.

*sounds of sighing from all over the bridge, then a quick series of slaps, a deep vibrating jolt and a gargled scream. There is a moment of silence, then the sound of something big sloshing as it hits the floor. Someone behind the captain applauds.*

:SECURITY, STASH THAT FUCKTARD IN HIS BERTH AND LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR:

:permission to go below decks Sir?: (he thinks longingly of Yani’s presence in his berth, the many holes awaiting him. Sure she was messy, but by Jupiter she was fun as fuck!)

:GRANTED. CON, GET US THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. ON MY MARK…:

:bearing 3.045 vector 12 ready on your mark, captain:

:ENGAGE:

Below, a man and his young son gaze up at the Big Dipper. He is pointing out the handle to the boy when a brilliant light arcs across the sky leaving a trail of incandescent blue. IN a hotel on the other side of town, two bodies are entwined. Through the window, she also sees the arc of light. And smiles.

 

 

 

 

Anal

I have two versions of this story. One is long, winding, giving every detail. But you’re not going to see it. I’m being a bit Mae West of late, aren’t I? 🙂 But really, this story has more impact with less detail. Use your imaginations. You can do it!

Anal toys galore.

Each in and out of my butt.

His cock enters the fray (so to speak). My ass is very unhappy about it. I’m tight, and whimpering, despite *wanting* to enjoy it? I’m not. And that’s hot isn’t it? There I was submitting to something that wasn’t particularly enjoyable to me…and that turned me on, strange human that I am.

I was sooo tight.

That it was unpleasant for HIM…and He decided to fuck the pussy instead. Way more fun, less like a “fucking vice grip, jesusH, nilla”.

Since then, multiple texts.

“Like fucking a Chinese handcuffs, nilla.”

And this, yesterday after I was a bit of a smartass…

“Stretch that asshole, nilla, or *I* will…”

(I called Him on the phone, on that one– “Master, I don’t think putting you on a rack will make you any taller…” which earned me a very dry “cute. Amazing how brave you are when there are 40 miles between us, slut.”

And I laughed. Guffawed. Went into giggle overdrive.

When we were done talking…I got another text.

“Like fucking Chinese fingercuffs.”

:0

He leaves me blushing (and giggling) every time.

Epic ass fail?

Perhaps.

Great story for us?

Hell yes!

 

Naughty

Those of you who know me a bit, know that I’m a wise-ass, and tend to “push the envelope” of proper behavior…in real life as well as being a submissive goes.

I’m going to obey. Mostly. 🙂 With…you know, a twist of nilla. I’m just wired that way, and He accepts that…He is not a protocol-driven Dom. I don’t have to count spanks, or say “thank you Sir” after every swat. As He points out, He’s been doing this sort of stuff since I was a teenager. (I know, right? 🙂  Also known as a “very long time, nilla”). Seriously, He was in the scene in Europe when I was in High School.  And likely when I was still a virgin (isn’t THAT an odder thought?)

Anyhow, I digress. He’s not stuck on protocols, He does things that please Him. I’m fine with that, too. He is strict about other things, like when I can cum, or eating ice cream…and it’s the level and need that work for us as a couple. This is a relationship, not just scene after scene after scene, and if he wanted to micromanage someone, He’d get a dog (or so He said to me once).

The other day He said something humorous but also obnoxious to me, and I swore I would attack His “little man nipples” during playtime.

I tried.

I really, really tried. We wrestled and wrangled, and hell, He may be older than me, but He is strong as a bull.

“Enough of this shit,” He mutters under His breath, and leaves me on the bed with the single command “stay”. It’ s a direct order. Of *course* I obey. I only push on the things I have wiggle room on, silly!

He turns back with the velcro cuffs. Oh fuck! Now I’ll *never* get His nips! I lunge for Him, He pushes me back, and quickly cuffs my dominant hand. I tussle, He pins me, and despite using all my reserves of guile and strength (I can’t even show Him this because He might hurt Himself laughing on that last bit there), He successfully grabs my other wrist, cuffing it, then grabs the length of “leash” between my wrists and tugs my hands up over my head.

“no,” He says, and flips me onto my belly, then proceeds to tug me off the bed, headfirst. I’m now braced on my fingertips, His arm over my ass, pinning me in place.

“Stay.”

He moves away, then quickly back, and I feel a squirt into my crack. uh oh.

His finger saws in and out of my asshole, lubing it, then slides into my pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet, you whore,” He laughs.

And shoves this REALLY large double vibe into my ass and pussy and fucks me hard. I cum almost instantly. Something in my ass is one thing…but double insertion AND a vibe AND upside down? I’m lost, panting, confuddled, blood rushing to my head, my ass stretched around the big tool, my pussy squirting. I came multiple times.

Finally I hear His voice from far away…

“Had enough, slut?”

I mumble something like ‘yezzir…uhmmmmm” and cum again.

He laughs, pulls out the vibe, and lifts me by my shoulders, back up onto the bed.

I’m messed up, hair, mascara, lipstick smeared all over my face. He brushes away my hair, grinning at me.

“Leave my nipples alone, got it?”

I giggle.

I can’t help it, it is very amusing to this slut. I shake my head.

He tugs my wrists over my head, lays His elbow on the cording between, pinning me, and begins pinching and biting *my* nipples.

Tit for tat, I guess.

🙂

I Meant to Do That

She sashayed across the bedroom. The tall, pencil heeled stiletto’s made her legs look sleek, long, and lean.

“Well? You like?” She turned, casting a flirting glance over her shoulder to where He sat on the edge of the bed. A small smile played on his mouth for a moment. If she’d not been looking, she might have missed it. Turning her back to him, she smiled her own soft, secretive smile. She wiggled her hips, shimmying the soft fan of silky fabric that just brushed the lower curves of her bottom.

She took a step backwards, towards him. She wriggled, stepped, wiggled and stepped. She glanced back, enjoying his reactions. He’d lain down now, on his side, head propped with his hand. She glanced at his jean-clad crotch. Yes, there was a definite bulge there. She stopped moving, and bent forward, knees turned inward, heels out. Bending slowly, she offered her ass to his view. Why he loved the way her panties showed under her naughty short-short-oh so naughtily-short skirts, she didn’t quite understand. Yet, it was His fantasy, and she was determined to play it out.

Glancing under her arm playfully, she noted that his cock was pressing harder against the confines his jeans, the bulge noticeably larger. She bent lower still, fingers sliding down her fishnet stockings,  until she reached the  top strap of her shoe.

She wondered if he could see the damp spot on the center panel of her panties. Wondered if her plump lower lips pressed outward, like an inviting, sultry kiss. Wondered how hard He would fuck her when she finally made it all the way back to where He lay on the bed.

He’d promised a very long “hand” session this time, too. She did enjoy spankings, and over His knee? The best. The heat of His hand on her flesh. The steady thud of His palm, the small whimpers, and His grunts as He worked her flesh to a ruddy glow. Just thinking about it, the simple but embarrassing act of Him pulling down the white ‘grannie panties’ He’d ordered her to wear made her drip.

She took a step back, still bent over, still waving her panti-clad ass in the air.

Her heel caught on the carpet.

She felt the grab, but was already precariously balanced, bent as she was. She teetered forward, corrected, tilted sideways, corrected again.

Quickly she tried to rise, to catch her balance. Arms pinwheeled in the air, she hung, for one long, drawn-out moment, on the edge of that snagged heel.

And then she went down, with a thud, onto her ass.

She lay, splay-limbed, in shock. She was humiliated. She was embarrassed. She was appalled.

Why the fuck did these stupid accidents keep befalling her. OH, great. “Befalling”…she snorted. There was a slap on the top of the bed and a funny, strangling noise. Rolling to her side, she rose on shaking limbs.

He was laughing.

Laughing so hard that tears were leaking from His closed eyelids. His hand slapped the bed, the other hugged His belly.

“Well, fine”  she snorted.

She stood, on wavering legs, watching Him laugh at her folly. The giggle caught her unaware, and with one faltering step, and another, she collapsed on the bed, consumed in mirth.

“I meant to do that,” she finally said, between giggles.

Hugging her close, He erupted in laughter once again.

 

i offer this as a token of esteem, love, and humor to all of us who are “klutzy sluts”…I know I’m one…but I am not the inspiration for this tale. She knows who she is. 🙂  And….based on her true-life experiences? There will be more of these little tales.  ~n~

Forked

Our last meet (90 minutes @ Starbuck’s) had a few interesting side notes that i didn’t really talk about much at the time.  i got my frappachino (since i don’t drink coffee), and decided to have a square of coffeecake. I asked the barista, a sweet young fellow, for two forks, so i could share with Master.

Master doesn’t eat a ton of sweet things, but i wanted to give Him the option. I got back to the table, balancing my drink, my food, and the giant Boston Sunday Globe newspaper. Got my side of the table set up, and handed Him the fork, still in its little plastic liner.

“Fork me?” i say in a naughty tone.

His face lit up and i thought “way to go nilla, the Man can’t wait to share food with you…or fuck you…”

And His eyebrows waggle and He is beaming at me. I push the cake towards Him, and he informs me ‘I don’t eat that stuff, nilla”….

He caught my inquiring look about the fork. i look from the fork to His face, back again. He does a few “air jabs”….

“I’m going to use this before I spank you, little girl. Tenderize that ass good.”

My eyes widen in shock. The Man is ….*amazingly* devious…and i feel my heart trip up a few notches.  He jabs the air again, short, staccato (and hard) pulses of that fucking fork, His brows raised, to be sure i get His point.

i do. i feel the shivery threat…promise…of it down my spine, and naughtily enough, deep inside my pussy. Egads, i am wet.

“And then?” He pauses, waits a minute.  I tilt my head, mute, since i swallowed my voice, asking with my body language, ‘yes, Master?’

He grins. Beams. Chuckles a bit.

“When I spank that well padded ass, spank it nice and hard, all those little ‘dots’ on your ass will glow white against the red that will cover your ass from my spanking. Won’t that be fun?”

His voice is boyish, almost-but-not-quite innocent. His grin, both sadistic and sweet, lights up His face. His eyes sparkle.

My eyes dash from the fork to His face. He means it, every fucking word. My ass is in His crosshairs…and He never forgets a torture. Carefully, (dare i say reverently?) He packs away the black fork in His briefcase.

**

Later that night, i got my evening text, outlining my Orgasm ‘duties’. Thankfully the Sox won, and He was in a beneficent mood, and i *got* an O, since i was incredibly turned on all weekend. And made especially horny after His ‘manhandling’ me in the parking lot earlier in the morning. A second text came in on the heels of the first:

“Good news X3: Red sox win;   event not on date I thought; and I picked up extra forks (fork you)”

I am so completed fucked.

er…forked.

 

Dr. Strangeguy, (session 2)

i look around. Not much has changed  since my last visit here. Not that i expected it to, really, but somehow in my head it was bigger.

i don’t really want to sit and thumb through 2-year-old copies of Downeast, mostly coz i’ve read them all. Not here, mind, coz i have a subscription.

And okay, i have an ass plug in, too.  i go and look at the prints on the wall. Old Orchard Beach Pier.

Mount Katahdin.

Lovely snapshots of Maine.

Ohhh….the beautiful crescent of Sand Beach at Acadia National Park!   i shiver remembering visiting there some years ago. Fucking cold water even in high summer. Just thinking about it makes my nipples hard.

So, why am i back here, you might wonder? Well, me too. i guess it’s in the nature of a follow up. I wonder if he’s been reading my blog.

The wood paneled door opens, and out comes Dr. Strangeguy.

“My goodness, it’s good to see you again, nilla,” he says, ushering me inside. There’s the lumpy couch again. Oh, and he’s laid out a plethora of clamps.

i longingly back towards the door, but the good Doctor is pushing me steadily towards the couch.

“Now, nilla,” he says in that jovial voice that all good shrinks must master in college, “I see you looking at those clamps. We’re going to spend this session trying a little word playing.”

i look at him, my eyebrows lifting. wordplay i think in my snarky inner voice, wordplay, and the guy lays out nipple clamps? The only fucking word that comes to mind is “ouch” …i can see this is going to go well…

He interrupts my inner snark with a tap on my right shoulder.

“Pay attention, nilla.”

“Yes doctor. i am” Mentally i roll my eyes. i’m sure that all my friends who pitched in to pay for this therapy session will be charmed by this.

“now, I want you to go sit on the couch. That’s right, just like that. Now, I’m going to say a word and you will pick up the pair of clamps that best exemplifies that word to you. Got it?”

i nod. i am curious now. The ass plug is settled in place, and my butt is throbbing softly. Its kind of a nice feeling, actually. Awake. Aware. and a bit turned on, too.

“Hunger”

i feel my brows beetle down. hunger?

i look at the array of clamps and feel my hand stretching out to the adjustable nipple clamps with the light chain. i love the feeling of a chain connecting my nipples, the swing of it, the cool teasing flash of the metal, the faint jingling sound…it never fails to wet me.

“Good girl,” he says, and he rises and crosses to me.  “Lift your shirt,” he adds, and i do.

The clamps aren’t too tight. And i do feel that tell-tale tingle between my thighs. That faint ‘hunger’ feeling that makes me feel like i want to be fucked.

“Um, Doc?”

“Not now nilla.”

i fall silent and wait for the next word. i don’t have long to wait. Just long enough that i feel the gentle throbbing of my nipples as they become aware and awake.

“Service”

i reach for the pair that resembles the ones Master has gifted to me.  i wear them in service to Him;  sometimes when i write, sometimes during corner time, sometimes just at His whim.  A logical choice. The clamps are tighter, the chain much heavier, reminding me that i am owned. i love this set, even though it is much more painful than the pair i am currently wearing.

Again i am instructed to lift my shirt, baring my puckery nipples. The gentle clamps are removed, to my regret. He quickly snaps on the fuckin… i mean, the service-oriented, clamp set. The drag of the chain pulls hard on my sensitive nips, and a small moan escapes.

Hell, i’m a slut. Goes with the territory.

He cluckclucks under his breath and goes back to his chair. He watches me for a bit. What is that? Why do they do that? Being watched with clamps on really heats me up, yanno? i never really thought i was one of those sluts, you know? Sure i do HNT’s but to have someone who is not my Master looking at me while i’m wearing titty chains should not be a turn on.

Should it?

my breathing is deepening, my tits rising and falling as i start to feel the pain building. i breathe through it, trying to find, as subsister sin calls it, my pain-groove.

“Some light and fluffy things on your blog lately, my dear little slut” the Doctor finally breaks his silence.

i nod. “yes, Doc. i’m newly collared, and so fucking…oops ‘scuse me…so amazingly happy.  i guess it shows in my writing.”

He makes that annoying ‘hmmmm’ sound again, jots some notes on his laptop.

And more notes.

And still more notes.

What the hell did i say that was that revealing? Maybe, maybe he’s placing his pizza order online, and can’t decide between anchovies and pepperoni?

“Punishment.”

oh. He’s tricky, Doc Strangeguy. Throwing a new word out like that. Gosh my tits are hurting now. i look down to make sure they’ve not ignited.

i think about ‘cheating’…yanno, i can see where this is going to go…and the Japanese clover clamps are hell. i’ve never even worn them and i know they are hell. i’ve seen how they pinch tight on those pics at the toy sites online, seen them in porn shots, and heard sin describe the almost-indescribable pain of them.

So i look at the nipple suckers.

His brows rise.

He doesn’t say a word, but i can feel his “oh reallly?”

i touch the clovers.

“Good girl,” he says, his face inscrutable. They must have a class for that too, the inscrutable expression class.

“Times up.” He crosses to the me, and unfastens the clamps.

“EGADS!” i yelp as he unceremoniously pulls them off.

“Darker stuff this week, eh?” and he laughs.

just a little bit.

but i heard it.