Still Riding the High

A week ago I was an aching, tired, cum-drained slut. Most of the bruises have faded, though the bite on my ass shows no signs of leaving anytime soon. The memories have shuffled, rising like bits of flotsam as I go through my busy days. I stop, smile, have a small internal shiver.

I know he had a good time too–his texts are often teasing, meant to heat me up.

I was remembering about when he finally untied my arms from their tight criss-cross. We were shifting and moving all over the bed. It is a fuzzy,  orgasm-fused memory, as to the how of it, but I was on the floor, on my knees. I think  He’d been smacking my ass, but I’m just not sure.

Anyway, the how isn’t the important bit of the memory.

Things had been getting progressively fiercer. I was ramped up, he was ramped up, and suddenly, unexpectedly, he grabbed me and threw me up and onto the bed.

By my hair.

His fist grabbed a huge hunk of my hair and simply hauled up, up and onto the bed without regard. Just a giant heave and I was there. It hurt like hell, and I remember being so turned on. He fell onto my back, his hand pressing my face into the mattress so hard I could scarcely draw breath, and then he was biting my shoulder, biting it hard.

I screamed and writhed under him, and he flipped me over, and clamped his teeth onto my nipple while his hand dove down to my pussy.

He finger-fucked me furiously, giving no quarter.

This wasn’t a gentle kind thing. This was a violent, fierce taking, and I loved every aching moment of it.

When he takes me, uses me for whatever he wants, it makes me feel…cherished. Owned. Needed.


There’s no better feeling for a pain-loving, needy slut like me.

Things You’d Only Hear From A D/s Couple

No, this is not a category on Jeopardy, but I’d bet many of my pervie peeps would do well with this, yes? *laughs*

“Master, I simply do not understand your fascination with my asshole.”

“Nilla, I *love* your asshole.

Yes. He did say this. It made me laugh. It made him prove it.


“Master, I’m so going to pinch  your nipples.”

“Ha. Good luck with that slut.”

I tried. I got a quick flick in and almost…almost … caught that little man-nip between my fingers before his fingers, firmly affixed to my belly flab, made me shriek and let go.

He, for the record, did not.

Let go, that is.

Not until I fell over on the bed and cried and whimpered and pleaded.

And yes.

I tried again, and yes, met with the same fate.


“You really like pushing the envelope, slut. I only hope your ass will be able to cash the check your smart mouth is writing.”

Catching the ever-so-slight warning in his tone, I shut the fuck up.


*gales of silly, hysterical laughter as he flops on top of me*. He pins me in place and says “no one has more fun than you, nilla.”

Immediately he begins  the slow, tortuous tickling of my underarms with his gently brushing fingers (SO BRUTAL! Gentle brutality to be sure!), alternating with the swirling tip of his tongue in my ear canal and outer ear. I know it’s an erogenous zone for many, but for me it is a very, extremely ticklish area.

I wish I could stop laughing.

I laugh until I’m gasping for breath, crying.

He stops and bites my shoulder fiercely.

I stop laughing and arch, screaming with the pain.

It’s fucking devious and I cannot keep up with it.


“You’re a real slut, nilla.”

“Thank you Master.”





Bruised Meat

There was much hitting (as one would expect) during our playtime. Pinned, arms bound criss-cross, I could not stop Him. Despite twisting, turning, wriggling, He slapped arms, thighs, that OMG-TOO-TENDER! spot where ass and thigh meet…and my tits. His hands squeezed, slapped, pinched, shook and molested my poor tits until I was crying.

And then he took the spoon to them.


This is how they looked an hour after he attacked them…and this is how they looked last night, 3 days later:


Pretty, pretty bruises.


“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.




Waves of Submission

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

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

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

And i explode.

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay there” he says in the Dom voice.

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

Stay there.

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

Stay there.

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

Stay there.

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

I half-whisper my reply.

yes Sir.


HNT- A Well Spanked Ass


Our time together was amazing. Not only because we hadn’t been together this way in months…but for the wonderful mix of tenderness and wicked pain. He started right away, as if His fingers had been itching to be turned loose on my body.

It was amazing…because He only used his hands. We were both very tactile with each other, touching and caressing…and His spanking and pinching until I was dancing to get away, and squealing, and finally, whimpering.

And there was this spanking–later there were wicked pinches, and more spanking–and when my ass was finally the “right shade of red”– redder than this…He took an enormous bite from the burning-hot right cheek.

But before all that, there was His body pressed hard against mine, pinning me firmly to the bed while He took a long, sweet time spanking my ass. He just starts hard–no warm ups for Him– and it felt good, and right, and necessary. And then it starts to burn, and hurt, and it makes me try to squirm away, but His arm is hooked over me and there is no way to move as He’s laying partially on me. I can’t move, I can’t speak, my fist in my mouth to hold back the cries. Then a tear swells up, and another, and my head falls to the bed and I cry a little bit and still He  spanks, His pace steady, His hand firm. And I’m empty and drained, contained and hurting, and so full of Him as my ass throbs hard with the heat from His work.

Later we are curled together my head on His shoulder. I stroke his beard, running my fingers up and over and around His face, and we’re tender and calm…for a moment or two..until He decides to let His fingers loose on me again.



By now, I would have been fucked in the ass.

Fucked in the ass, and the mouth, and the cunt.

There would be huge bruises on my tits, on my ass.

Welts. Oh, yes, there would be welts, too.

Sitting would hurt.

My pussy would throb. Because He does love to make me cum. And cum. And cum…until I’m whimpering and moaning and asking for no more, no more…but still He does it again, mouth or fingers or toys, making me cum, making me dizzy, making my pussy turn red and swollen, a hot, aching fire of awesome pain and sublime satiation.

My arms would hurt. Sore from His pinches, sore from being contained, cuffed to my thighs or over my head, when I jerk and twist and try to break free to stop what He is doing (fat chance, but still those herky jerky movements come).

His hand would be sore, from the strict over the knee spanking that He loves to deliver, that I love to get, even if I do wind up squirming and whimpering well before He’s done.

My toes would throb, sore from the 6.5″ heels I wear with Him, standing with my nose to the wall while He sneaks up and beats where ever He wants. Thighs, calves, arms, back, ass–all are here just waiting to fall victim to His toys.

My legs would be stressed from being spread so wide as He fucks me. Ankles up on His shoulders, or splayed wide as I’m facedown on the bed’s corner while He slides things in my ass to stretch me before His cock fills me.

My nipples would be stretched and sensitive. The clamps hurt when He throws me onto the bed, belly first. They rub and twist and ache, and yet I cum, cum hard when He does it. His mouth, sucking and biting and tormenting them afterwards, as He feasts on the prepared bits of my breasts. They are swollen, too, aching and arching for Him, no matter how hard He hurts them. And I cum, as He sucks on them, even before His fingers reach down, and slam into my cunt and demand more.

If only.


*cough cough cough cough*