A Bit of a Sad

Man, I’m so frustrated I could scream! In many ways, mind you. Sexually frustrated. Needing to be beaten frustrated. Tired of injuries frustrated.

Our playtime has had to be cancelled. I left it in his lap, but I knew he would decide to hold off.  My shoulder injury has worsened, and it looks at this point like there could be surgery involved. Himself has finally healed from his own shoulder issues (6 months!)…so he knows what I’m dealing with here.

And gods above, I’m so …happy? too. He said “While I revel in the pain I cause you, I don’t want you to be hurt…no..” he pauses, starts again…”I don’t want you to be permanently harmed by my accidentally hitting you and furthering the damage to your shoulder. If  you’re hurt by me, that’s one thing. It’s fun and it sexy and it’s what I do. I get pleasure from hurting you, slut. But I’m not going to do anything that would permanently disable you. Because you still need to take care of your family, and run your business, and live your life, and if I harm your injury then I’m affecting your daily life and that’s not what I do.”

It made me feel unbelievably nurtured. Warm and fuzzy and loved. Make no mistake, this caring, thoughtful man is a fucking bastard during playtime. He hurts me terribly wonderfully. But he gets it, that I still need to do stuff. Frankly, I know he enjoys me telling him how hard it was for me to work after he’s beaten me. How it ached when I sat, or how it made me wince to reach for something…he eats that shit up! The pain he’s caused, and its lingering after-effects are a turn-on for him. And, okay, for me as well. I freely admit I’m horny for weeks after a good play session.

But this kind of pain isn’t kink-inspired. It’s just life, and age, and work and who knows what happened that kicked it back up a notch or twelve. I’m really hoping to not have this surgery, but I won’t know any details for a few weeks at least. It’s the waiting and the not knowing that are the hardest part, really.


Sometimes? Life sucks even more that this slut can.


He Returns with a Vengence

After many months of vanilla with M and I…

which isn’t to say that we’ve not talked and texted…but no D/s…

suddenly out of the blue, He’s back.

He sent me a text last night that I need to wear my nipple clamps for 22 minutes a day. At work. (Except for tonight, since it’s a Holiday. Which kind of makes me giggle but then again, I am a sick fuck. 😀 So instead I am wearing them while I write to you all about these epic changes! )

And it’s fine,  because I mostly work alone. But still. Then I’m supposed to wear a butt plug on Friday…but I can’t find them! I think I remember him taking them after our last playtime. I just know they aren’t here.  So…I can’t do that Friday task. Still waiting to see his solution for that.

My gods. My nipples hurt! I’m pegged now, and I’ve forgotten how much “virginal nipples” ache when clamped. I like it, don’t get me wrong, but man oh man !! OUCH!

Then I find my phone and I have yet another text from the Dom.

“BTW, nilla,  no playing with yourself until I get some satisfaction from your torture.”



I’m staring at my phone in shock, horror, and okay, total awe at the awesomeness that is my Master.

Holy hell, I’m hot. I’m bothered. I’m turned on and alive and …where the fuck did this come from? Waaaay outta left field, pervie peeps. I mean, we’ve been in vanilla mode for a looooooong time.

And okay, perhaps, maybe, possibly I’ve stalled a bit on setting up a playtime. I can own up to that. I’m busy and I didn’t really think I was a priority for him. I know he loves to beat me, but he’s busy too, so I figured business dealings took my place. Work fills my needs…and I guessed that his did the same. Maybe even moreso.

So, yeah, go ahead. Sue me for being all “whatever”  about playtime.

And hell, the weather up here in the frozen north has NOT been conducive to meet-ups, and the 36 hours we were above freezing were spent working at a fever pitch to get outside things attended to before the temps came crashing down. I don’t think my blow-up Santa Claus will ever be quite the same…he was hard-frozen by the ice storm, then pelted into the ground with 15 inches of snow! I’ve had clients out the ass (see what I did there?!) and more work that I can handle, and and and…

Well he’s changed things up, because…suddenly, planning for a playtime with my Tormentor is becoming a necessity.

Did I mention how absolutely horny I am now?

He has gone from zero to 85 in a heartbeat. I’m not sure *my* heart can keep up. I’m all fuddled and ‘whoa’ and…and did I mention that as I write this,  my nipples hurt? Well, they do! And my pussy aches. And I want.



Suddenly I’m starving for something I haven’t had in so long, almost like wanting fresh-from-the-tree cherries… in January. Like those cherries, I’ve been out of season. I’ve been frozen just like my blow up Santa Claus.

But magically, there’s been a thaw -a Master Thaw – and that’s cracked my ice, cleaved it neatly in two, and the boiling needs have thrust their way up and out. I may never get them put back.

Oh gods, the slut is out. The slut is loose. She …me…I…crave Him. Crave His pain. Crave His sadism, His lust, His desires. I’ll be the recipient of His slapping hands, His biting teeth, His pinching and clamping and smacking. I need it more than mere words can express.

I can’t believe I forgot how much I need this side of Him.

So for now, I’ll be clamped…and horny…and wanton…and looking desperately  for time to be with Master, and get the full-on beating I’ve been promised.

I’ve missed my Dom. I’m glad He’s back, glad he’s still that mean, tormenting Bastard that I adore.


PS I forgot how much these fuckers hurt when you take them off….*moans*…

Admonished (again!)

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

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

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

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

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

fuckity fuckity fuck

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

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

Not to Himself. Nu-uh.

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

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

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

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

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

“Just now.” He shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Problems need correction. you need correction.”

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

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

“Nilla…? Hellowww? M to nilla……”

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

“i..I….uhm……….yes…yes Sir.”

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

I’m not the business woman then.

I’m not the mom then.

I’m his slut, his.

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

“This. Is. MY. pussy. M I N E.”

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


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

Connected. Redirected.


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

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



Punishment update:

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

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

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

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







I will not forget my task.




On a somewhat tangent note (sue me if that’s the wrong expression!) He and I are having playtime. SOOOOOON! And He’s being a jerky bastard about it, as usual. It annoys me and I know he does it just to fuck with me, and he says he will be there…if he doesn’t get kidnapped by aliens…



Anyway, when I told him tonight that I would NOT forget my task, he told me that the aliens would be watching.

Which made me laugh, of course.

And then started this story in my head…which, if you know me at all, means that it will show up here at some point. As I said before.


Gotta love ’em. But I’m still gonna punch him when I see him.    Or try. 😀

(or die trying? hahaha)

(you KNOW He just won’t stand there and let me punch him. Something evil and twisted will happen, I’m sure.)

(It may be that I’m kinda counting on that…)




Tuesday, When He Pulls Out The Dom Card

I have a task. It’s fairly new, instituted at the end of January. And I was given a “pass” for  several weeks while I was really sick. But I’m not really sick anymore, in fact, nearly recovered.

I forgot the task. Oh. Fuck.

Monday night I’m supposed to have a half-O, to be edged to the point of twitching and total distraction. The idea, aside from giving Him pleasure at my needy pussy, is to make my Tuesday orgasm even more intense. So it’s a good-bad thing, you know?

But I forgot the task.

And I told Him, last night, on a night I was supposed to be enjoying my pussy to the fullest. I will have a punishment tonight (two half-O’s, the first with the small anal plug, the second with the larger one)…which I of course deserve.

But the thing that made me shake in my boots was this. His voice drops, gets silky.  It makes me hot, and wet, and horny, and scares me too. Imagine that, that just the smallest change in the tone of his voice can do that?

“Did someone forget who’s in charge here?” He says.  I think for a moment that my heart just stopped beating. And then it beats like crazy.

“Uhm…kind of? It’s been a long while and…”

Did someone forget who’s in charge here?”  He repeats.

“No. No Sir.”

My voice is small and whisper quiet. It wasn’t the 7 words. Okay it was, but it was the TONE. The Delivery. The Dom, steel wrapped in velvet, who slid through my phone and into the gut of me, reminding me.

“I won’t forget again Sir.”

“See that you don’t.”

We haven’t seen one another, face to face, in over a month. Haven’t had playtime since last Autumn. But all of that doesn’t matter. For us, it’s more than just playtime, more than just punishments and rewards. It’s about U/us…our dynamic, our connection to one another, and TTWD.

And if ever I forget that hey, we’re not just some vanilla friends sharing lives via the phone…He never fails to jerk me back to the reality of the collar (visible or not) that is around my throat.

And that I’m His.




It Works for Us

It had been a long, long, long time since he and I had any extended play time. And when we have extended time apart, he doesn’t task me with things to do — which is good because I just simply don’t have the time available to do much with being his “good little slut”.

Does that shock you to your core, that last statement there?

Yeah, me too. Once, long ago when this was new and hot and ohmahgawd I wanna do it all and do it now and do it with anyone… I would have thought that a “slut” like that was a bad one. A non-submissive, just a whore.

But now? I’ve been doing this dark and naughty thing we do for a long time…and I am older and wiser. We all serve our tops in a variety of ways…and in the ways that work best for each of our relationships. For all of those relationships that start out gangbusters and going hardcore 24/7 Dom/slave? Very few make it. Sure there is Omega and mouse…and Scott and kaya…and there’s Fiona and her Sir…and if I’ve forgotten to add YOU, apologies. Those are the lone few that leapt to my mind this late evening as I write.

The point here is that you have to make this D/s thing work for YOU. Well you and your Top…but you know that I meant that, right? Anyway…you can’t do this for anyone else. Not for blogland, not for the accolades of others in the lifestyle. If it works for you and makes you happy, then go for it. Don’t feel the need to copy anyone else’s thing and feel that you’re doin’ it wrong if you don’t.

So you all know that M and I don’t live together. We’re semi LDR…(well, long distance as in around 40 miles or so, as opposed to cross-country!)…but between his responsibilities and mine…it’s been very hard on us these last two years. He doesn’t like to Dom (read: give tasks, sex act etc) unless he’s there to reap the benefits of the torment. He’s VERY hands on.

When we played a few weeks ago, it was hard and rough and fast. And cuddling and tickling and pain. And kisses that lasted forever, and brutal fucking and being fingered until I thought my cunt would be swollen and tender forever, followed by that wonderful languid feeling of being well used.

There is also the “one last orgasm” thing he does, when it just hurts so. fucking. much. His fingers jab into my swollen and tender pussy, and I moan and thrash, and he holds me down with brutality, and savages me…and then I’m hot and it’s good and it hurts and oooomygawd…I’m fucking back and then I come and it’s like I’m dying with it…a sudden surging rush of liquid, a bed-soaking orgasm that drains me totally until I fall into the depths of subspace.

All that good stuff aside? He won’t tell me what to wear, won’t tell me what to eat, won’t tell me when to go to bed. He’s my Dom, not my keeper. I’m not his pet, nor his child…so those are my decisions to make. He really doesn’t have a way to enforce it, so if I fuck up? What can be done from afar? Not much. It has worked out to an occasional “you will have two half-o’s tonight, 3 minutes apart, no cumming” and that’s it.

A few years ago I would have been unhappy with that. But these days, when my vanilla life is jam packed–between college teen and schooling two younger kids, and my various jobs and running my own business? I’m stretched pretty thin. There have been times I’ve thought seriously of stopping this blog because how boring am I?

But then I have these dreams, or even these naughty “thinks” that come up in the course of my doing some mundane task or other…and I know I need this outlet to be here for me. Because I am a submissive and I am a slut and I am a horny wench, and I do have a warped sense of what is sexy…sometimes it’s sweet with a touch of pain or teasing, and sometimes it is dark, and vile and nasty and so …untoward…coming out of my head.

Here is a place that I don’t feel at all judged by that.

So you’re stuck with me. And I’m stuck with him, and he with me. We’ll go on making this wacky wild nasty thing we do work…because it does work.


Well…it didn’t happen again.

He was supposed to be alone at his house but then his son was there and wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon enough for me to come over to play and …

yeah, I was sad.

But also…I grok it. Our lives are just going crazy busy, and we NEVER interfere with one another’s children…no matter their ages…they’re our kids and they come first. So I wasn’t pissed. Wasn’t mad. Just…resigned, I guess.

It will happen when the time is right for us and I wound up feeling headachy and the weather was blah…fog and rain and chilly and dank. It’s been SO humid up here, sometimes hot humid and sometimes just…wet. Not even a sexy wet, yanno…just…wet and fusty. The air up here was simply put–grody. Gross. Ugh.

Maybe it worked out for the better. I wasn’t in the best mood, though he can always sort *that* out for me *insert cheeky grin here* just because he won’t put up with moody bullshit.

I’m not going to say anything about a potential meet again because I always feel bad reporting my lack of sexy naughty stuff to you…and you’re all so supportive and kind when it falls apart like that…just know that we (he and I ) are still good, still trying to pick apart our mutually weird schedules and make it work. (Again, I feel I should emphasize so you don’t feel negatively towards him, that many times our times have been changed because of *my* weird life…for it to fall apart on his end isn’t the norm.

So there you go. My D/s life might be…on the minimalist side just now…but I still have one. It’s just in summer hibernation is all. 😀



Amazed and Happy

In the past years, there have been many times when M and I have had to reschedule a playdate…

Many times, sad to say.

And many of those times were because I knew He had extra work, or a deadline or something pressing that really needed doing. Or you know, one of us was ill.

We have scheduled a playtime (imminently)…and He has this crushing deadline.

Once again I fell on my sword (it’s what we subs do best, right?) and told Him that we could hostpone our playtime so that He would have a block of free time to work on His project.

I texted it, because I knew saying the words would make me cry, that He might hear the sad tone in my voice. I sent it, even knowing as I depressed the key, that it would put our next possible playtime well into September.

His reply came nearly immediately.


I stared at the reply, my eyes finally moving away from that terse ‘no’….

“No. I’ve already told Mr. Belt that it’s time for him to taste your ass.”

That was it. Fifteen words that made me cry anyway–from joy.  In our 6+ years together He has NEVER refused to take the time I’ve offered like that.

Until now.

And I’m so very, very glad of it!



…I forget how much pain really hurts.

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

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

Then, doesn’t He trick me?

He did!

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

Oh MAN, did it hurt. 

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

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

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



He needed to give it–I needed to get it.

And there wasn’t any time to collect myself before it all began.

There is a brief funny story about how we wound up in the room that we did, and it’s all about the stamp collectors…but I’ll share that later. For now, just trying to catch and hold on to those first moments…

He slid into the bathroom behind me, despite my hollering “goals” to Him. I think he laughed at that, actually…there just isn’t a “safe zone” with him in the room. Slammed up against the bathroom wall, face-first, His hands…my fucking gawd…he pinches so fiercely. In fact, in the entire playtime? He never used any tool but His hands to hurt me. He used some anal plugs, and a vibe, and of course, Mr. Hitachi came out to play (he’s a cruel thing, on HIGH when my pussy is already on overload…just sayin’…).

He pins me against that wall and starts pinching my poor arms…the backs of them, and all the way down my sides. Reaching around in front he gets my belly, then goes to town pinching my ass.

Through my jeans.

And it fucking hurts!

Yeah, I know it’s supposed to. I get that. I’m gasping for breath and hurting and frigging flying all at the same time. When He steps away so that I can get dressed, it’s just for a moment, and then He’s back at those same spots again. The bruises I *started* our playtime with…phew. I look like I was attacked by something with pincers on it.

If I get a chance I’ll try to get pics but that’s hard with kids around and the area’s he got…well, they’re mostly behind me, right? So it’s crazy hard to do. He took lots of pics…of other things…and I’ll be sharing some of those, HNT’s and other times.

We weren’t together long…I had to work in the morning, and He in the evening, but the time we had was good. Tender at times, and wicked at others. Hard bites and wicked pussy slapping one moment, deep tender hungry kisses the next. He hurt me and he made me cum like a fire hose.

I’m still flying.