The car pulled alongside her as she stormed up the street.


She kept walking.


Despite the cajoling tone, she kept walking.

“ELLIE, for Crissake.”

The car zipped ahead of her by 20 feet, nipped into the curb and parked. Daniel leapt out and stomped down the sidewalk towards her.

“Not talking to you.”

She tried to move around him, found herself blocked.

“Listen. No…stop…Listen to me.”

She stopped, just long enough to give him a hard shove. He barely moved, the jerk.

“Oh, I get it. You’re stronger than me because you “work out” right?” She insultingly wagged air quotes.

“People don’t do that anymore. The air quote thing. It’s juvenile.”

“Juvenile? JUVENILE??? Let me tell you juvenile, you…you…horny monkey-faced man!”

He stopped walking backwards, staring at her with a strange expression on his face.


He paused, swallowing hard.


Something in his face triggered her, and she stopped walking, and started laughing. She laughed until tears ran down her face, until she had to bend over to stop the ache in her belly. Dragging in a hard-won breath, she spoke.

“Your face. Your monkey facey..”

And she laughed again. He shook his head. He was a dom of some measure, but he could truly say this woman had flustered the fuck out of him.

“You’re strange, you know that? Monkey facey? Really?” He paused, rolling his eyes skyward.

“Besides,” he continued, forestalling her attempt to once more walk away. “you’re a woman without a car. Let me drive you home at least… please?”

Taking a deep breath, whether to quell any last giggles, or to supress annoyance as her clit throbbed softly, she gave him a fierce scowl.

No hanky panky. No walking me to the door. You stop where I tell you and I get out.”

He nodded his agreement. When he would have taken her arm, she shrugged him off and moved purposefully to his car. He bent around her, opened the door, then stood there a moment as she fastened her seatbelt, one hand on the door, one on the roof.

“I hope you’ll come to work tomorrow. We’ll talk. I’ll…” he paused a microsecond, but she noted it. “I’ll make sure Dane is there, and you two can finally meet.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay, good,” he said, shutting the door and rounding the vehicle to drive this mystifying creature home.


Unlocking her door, she slipped into her apartment and sagged against the counter. Holy fuck what an experience. Holy motherfucking hell.

Well, at least had her phone back. Pulling it from her jacket pocket, she was going to call Maggie…but what could she say? How on earth could she tell her friend about this mornings…mishap? She’d been one of the million or so people who spent that summer reading all about the domination of that simpering girl who bit her lip so often it was a wonder she still had a lip. And okay, she might have, maybe, okay yes she had, masturbated to some of those fantasy teases of being tied up, of being flogged, or being …anything.

Hell. There was nothing going on of a sexual nature, not in a long, long time. She assumed that anyone looking at her vajayjay would have to blow off 16 months of dust to get in there…but that certainly wasn’t the case now.

She put the phone on her night stand, and took off her clothing. She paced around her bedroom, before standing before the long mirror on her closet door. Her left nipple was red, with a hint of a purpling bruise. Lifting her hand, she poked it with her finger, felt the tingling ache, and the answering echo in her clitoris. Placing her other hand over her pussy, she pushed with her forefinger, entering the slit.

She was wet, juicy and slick. It was hot, so hot. Her fingertip brushed her clit, and she moaned. Watching herself in the mirror, she pinched her abused nipple, and rubbed her clit again. Her head fell back, her eyes closed to slits as she watched her body shiver out a chain of goosebumps. Her hips thrust towards her probing finger, her breast, nipple distended, arched upwards.

Another rub and the wetness poured from her, her cunt clenching.


She slipped a finger inside herself, feeling the intense heat of her slick hole. Rubbing her nipple and stabbing her cunt with her fingers, she came, hard. So what if she’d had the feeling of cuffs around her wrist, or of a vibrator buzzing away on her crotch.

No one needed to know.


She absolutely should not have done it. Sitting alone in her office at lunch, too busy to take her full hour, she broke long enough to gobble her sandwich and read a quick story on her phone. So, she had a thing for Monstererotica…mostly being fucked by an octopus. Today’s sordid tale  had a slightly different take on the process, but holy fuck it had her juices flowing.

She’d shut down the phone when the timer beeped, and made a quick run to the ladies room to pee before settling into work mode once more. Always the overachiever, the clock ran well past 5:00 p.m. before she surfaced. She hated to admit it but that story had kept pushing its way into her mind through the afternoon. So horny that she wondered if she’d come close to starting her period, she discretely slipped her hand into her pants to check. Oh, it was wet there, but it wasn’t period blood. It was pure “horny juice”.  She looked out the window. No cars were in the lot on her side of the building. She noted that it was bumping past 6 now, but to be sure, she rose from behind her desk and crossed the room. Peering out from her office made her feel sneaky. It made her feel horny, too. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being ‘bad’ for feeling good, she mused. A quick look up and down the hallway confirmed that all the other offices here were empty, lights out and doors closed. Pushing her door shut behind her, she quickly crossed to her desk. She didn’t notice that the door didn’t quite latch, and the gentle momentum of the tongue slipping off the edge of the latch propelled the door gently back open.

Quickly she unzipped her pants, and slid her fingers under the waistband of her panties. She imagined the tentacle-beast-plant latching onto her nipples, like in the story, of the inability to fight it, to move away, as it impaled her. Her head fell back, her fingers slid deeper.

Gods she was soooo turned on!

She came with a quick release, a nearly silent sighing “ohhhh” as her body spasmed out the welcomed relief. Eyes closed, she smiled, slipping her fingers free. Her heart raced as something hot and wet closed over her fingers even as her wrist was grabbed and lifted.

“Wwhaaa…” she yelped, then squirmed in embarrassment.

“What indeed.”

His mouth slipped from her fingers.

“Or should I say, what a lovely taste, after a rare and lovely show? One rarely sees a woman absorbed so totally absorbed in self-pleasure and after all these years, I must say I’ve never seen it at the office.”

She looked into the dark eyes of the CFO. Amos was in Chicago. How could he be here, now?

“I thought you were in Chicago,” she said, feeling thick with confusion.

“I was. Now I’m here, and I must admit that  I’m so glad I came  in late today, rather than jumping in my car and heading straight home to my empty house.”

His smile was sinful. Gazing at him, she tried hard to not think about the little fantasies she’d had about him, lest he read it in her eyes. His next words shocked her.

“I must say, I’m hard as a rock after watching that”

She looked up at him, mouth somewhat agape.

“Yes, I said I am hard as a rock. Now, I have three possible solutions to this little situation we find ourselves in. In solution one, I nod to you and thank you for that delightful scene, and we both go home to our separate places. I can’t say I’ll ever forget this experience, nor will I not think of it when I see you in the break room, at the coffee machine, or sitting here just like this.”

“I…suppose I should give you my resignation…”

“Ah, but that’s not an option of any of my scenarios. I would like to continue, if I may?”

His voice carried just the faintest note on censure. She blushed, nodding, and muttered a soft “I’m sorry.”

“Very well then. My scenario number two is pretty interesting. In that one, I bend you over your desk and fuck the living hell out of you, and then we go our separate ways. The third version starts the same way, your very sexy body being fucked right here on your desk. But when we’re somewhat sated,  we leave together, and go back to my place so that I may continue enjoying your lovely body. There will be food in there somewhere, too.  I won’t make options two or three mandatory, despite having caught you in an extremely compromising position, and despite being extremely turned on and really wanting to fuck you.”

He paused his eyes skimming over her, pausing at her tits, then focusing on the open vee where her pants were not yet fastened. The lace of her panties was damp now, damper since he had come upon her.

“I won’t be gentle, either.”

Those words made electric tingles run straight down to her clit. His look was potent, but those words kindled an intense need within her.

“Which do you choose, my dear?”

She knew for sure that she didn’t want to wake up from this dream–for surely it was a dream and not reality? How could it even be possible that the man who was so out of her reach, the man she had several great masturbation fantasies about –wasn’t really in her office, the taste of her pussy on his tongue, wanting to fuck her. She wasn’t dreaming, she knew. She could see him, feel his warmth, and see the proof of his wanting right there on the front of his pants.

She cleared her throat, and smiled.





Masturbation for Master

I was close.

I was soooo close…and it was 11-15 or 20 or 25…the clock was ticking and I was sooo slow to heat up…I was wet and horny from talking to you on the phone…but I just couldn’t quite …get there..

And then I was in a room with someone…blindfolded…being steadily fucked with a vibe, being told once I came, once I was wet and shaking and vulnerable…then I’d get it… an assfucking, rough and hard, while having my mouth used…

made to serve

made to cum

made to swallow

made to just take it, whore…

and I started to shake…fear…lust…and when I came?

It was with my entire body.

I shook and squirted and came apart…you saw the evidence of it…

It was one of *the* most powerful orgasms that I’ve had in a long while.  I’m not sure of the why of it, or the how of it…i just totally came apart.

I came so hard I was almost crying.

I fell asleep…like falling over a cliff…just *boom* and I was out, right after I texted you the evidence of that powerful explosion.



Written as an O report; posted per Master’s order

Back, Kinda…Almost!

Things are starting to fall into place. My last day at my old job is this weekend, and then, of a sudden, I’ll be my own boss. This is a wonderful experience–I’m nervous, a bit, but heady with excitement. I’ll still be working my *other* part-time job, but I just realized that in a year or two? I might land another contract and not need to do that anymore.



I *super* love where I work. I love the hours, I love the people, I love the building. I love the soft and simple routine I have there, just enough contact with others to check in–and just enough alone time to end my day in a really good, introverted and happy way.  I’ve gotten a small promotion there, and I’m really really happy.


I’m not the sort to look my happy in the mouth and inspect its teeth–I’ll gladly accept it. I won’t look for trouble–it will find me well enough on its own. (ain’t that the truth, right?)

After this weekend, life slows down a lot. And my family gathering is a fun time, a celebration of a bunch of life events for all of us.  At the end of the month, an extended Labor Day weekend vacation for yours truly. I’d almost opted out, but yanno? I’ve worked super hard this month and I damn well have earned 5 days off.


Did you picture me, arms crossed, bottom lip stuck out petulantly as I said that?

Yeah. Kinda like that. Except I’m smiling. I’m happy with the choice. I’ll sit under the pines in Maine, reading the paper and catching up on my kindle reading. I won’t worry or fret about anything while I am away, either. And….

I might not take my computer.



I’m so on the fence. It can be hard to get connectivity there, but I’m just not sure if I want to be connected or if I just want to take a full break (of course I’ll set my HNT to auto publish!! Can’t piss off the Master!)

But what if all the relaxing gets my brain cooking up something devilishly wonderful? And I want to write it? Longhand? uh…I don’t think so. But where to hide it in my tent, right? If I’m out hiking for the day? Do I then worry that someone will pilfer my little lappy? I’d be so devastated.

I’ll have to work that all out in my brain.

I’ve had a few great idea’s pop into my head–at the MOST inconvenient times, too. If my phone is handy, I can text myself a reminder. Technology is great for that!

So there I am, sitting on the fence of whether to capitalize on a ton of quiet time while the wife n kids go to the beach without me and write my little hiney off…or whether 5 days of sea-scented pine air, napping, reading and knitting will be just what I needed to kick-start me into the fall season.

I have 2 weeks to think about it.

You know, for a sex blog, there’s been precious little sex around here. Master has me to one orgasm a week just now, not sure why, not that *I* need to know…but I’ve not even had time to beg for an O.

Yeah, I’ve been *that* overwhelmed with life.

Soon, though, I’ll be calling and mewling at Him…won’t He just love that? I’ve been so quiet, that I think at times He must forget He even owns a slut. The last 3 days? Just two or three texts. A super brief phone call, and that was about Tom Brady’s potential knee injury. We’re both pretty rabid Pat’s fans (that’s football, for you non-sports pervies).  Yeah…my sex life is pretty much a snooze-a-palooza these days.

Cross your fingers that we can hook up for a brief time, maybe lunch or dinner next weekend. Playtime a few weeks after that, if He’s here. Fall means some trips for His work, so who knows. This has been the most frenetic summer I remember having in a coon’s age! Funny how one of the *most* important life events just gets pushed to the bottom of the ‘to do’ pile, right? Sex is an integral part of who I am these days…and I write these tales and feel a fraud for not having any juicy bits for you.

There was this fantasy Tuesday night during my orgasm, but you don’t want to hear that, do you?




*grins wickedly*

See? I know you all well enough to know you do want to know. Or else why would you all have read the past 777 words to get to this part, right?

I had a crazy weekend, and Monday and Tuesday followed suit. I was NOT feeling at all sexual. Then I talked to the Man. It was only about 25 minutes, and not all of it was sexual, though that is a thread that winds through things.  When we hung up, He admonished me to grab my O, as time was passing quickly…it was after 11 p.m. He knows I’m a bit of a padiddler, never hopping right into bed. I have to pee, and brush my hair, and braid it for the night…and then fix my pillows, and get my toys out, and check my alarm clock. And since it was the height of the Perseid meteor showers, I stopped and looked out my window, even seeing an extraordinarily bright meteor!

I was wet when I finally touched. Wet, just from talking to Him. His voice is like liquid honey. Hot honey. Sometimes it is a soothing sound, and sometimes it simply burns through me, leaving me “on” and wanton and so horny.

I wasn’t SUPER turned on, Tuesday night. More of a low simmer, I suppose. There wasn’t a particular fantasy, just playing with two vibes, one inside, on low, one against my clit, on medium. I just lay there, enjoying the buzz.

And trying to not think of the ticking time bomb of the clock bounding towards my midnight cut-off.

I came close.

R-eeaaalyyyy close.

But not quite enough “oomph” to make it up over the hill. Orgasm fail is something that so rarely happens to me, that I refuse to accept it.



So I go back to pounding the pussy, as Master calls it. Slow, then fast. Vibe on High, vibe on low.




but no.

I could have fallen prey to exasperation. But somehow, my little twisted brain just turned it into a story. Right then and there. A voice fills my head.

“I know, that was so mean of me, wasn’t it little girl? So fucking close and I won’t let you cum. Not yet. You will love–and hate–when you do.”

A clip and sharp pain on my tit.

“There, a bit of pain will keep you right there on the edge.”

“When you cum, girl, and you *will* cum, your asshole will become mine. You signed and agreed. You never cum, you said? You’ve never met me before, but I promised I would fucking squeeze an orgasm or twenty from your stubborn cunt. And when that happens, as your hole seeps fuckjuice, I’ll sauce up my cock with it, and pierce your ass in one hard thrust. I’ll ram my meat deep into your shit hole, making you scream, even as more orgasms rock your fucking pussy. I’ll plow my shaft deep, my balls slapping on your backside as I pump in and out, your tight little butt ring trying–and failing–to keep me out.”

“It won’t.”

He laughs, the sound dark and deep, and oddly erotic. The vibe goes up again and I shiver. So intense. The throb on my nipple fades as the painful vrrrooom on my clit steals my attention. My pussy clenches, stutters, then accepts the big tool steadily fucking in and out, rumbling up against my sensitive bits with every thrust.

I’m panting now, the feelings in my lower regions suddenly molten. I’m hot, so hot. My nipple aches, my clit pulses, and I feel as if *something* momentous lies just ahead of me. His dark, dirty words do something to me, to my cunt, to my head.

“When I’m done cumming in you, I’ll grab a beer, swallow a little blue pill, and be back inside your butt before you finish draining my last cum dump.”

Suddenly the world tightens to a single, black dot, then expands. I’m at once in subspace, and deep within my body…as I explode. I feel the convulsions deep in my center, I feel my body hurtled outward. I haven’t moved except to arch up, my lower back up off the bed, suspended by my shoulders and heels.

I’m cumming so fucking hard to the sound of his deep laughter.


And yeah. I did.  That little fantasy sent me right over the edge, just in the nick of time, too! 11:54 p.m.  And don’t ASK me why–but I had this urge to photograph the evidence of the intensely wild ejaculation orgasm. The proof is in the pudding…or in this case, the puddle. 🙂





Princess (6)

There was a sound of hushed voices from the other room. She lay in her little bed, listening to the song of the sea through her window. She tried to figure out what they were saying, but beyond the knowledge that it concerned her she had no idea.

She’d been very proud of her performance as an ill-mannered lack-wit before the King. What was a king anyway, but a man in a smelly old robe and a crown? While he seemed nice enough, he was still just a man. Men didn’t impress her all that much, and his offspring was not a pleasant person. He made her skin pebble with nerves, and she knew that Mudge and Trey distrusted him.

She felt the press of the passage of time…she needed to find the one she loved, the man she had seen at the cliffs that day. She’d thought it was the Prince, until she’d gotten a good look at him. He was not the one. She sighed, flopping over onto her belly, head resting on her folded arms. Closing her eyes, she tried to recapture the feelings from that experience.

She remembered the fluttery feeling she’d gotten as she had watched his mighty sword plunge between the legs of the female. Since she’d been here, she’d seen horses and goats do it, and had touched the swords….cocks….of the two men who had taken her in.

Even thinking of the experience, she could recapture the flutter in her belly, only now, with her own legs, she felt the flutter betwixt them.  Unfolding her arms, and turning to her side, she explored there. She touched a small button, and jumped!


Oh my.

That felt…good. Her nipples rose, and she touched one with a long and slender finger. She felt that touch in her breast, but also in that sensitive button place. Her finger returned touching the button. Her nipples crinkled tighter.

OH my!

She pushed between the folds, and felt water.

She was leaking?

Lifting her finger to her nose, she smelled that same sea-smell that had leaked from her friends man-snakes. Cocks. She corrected herself again. She tasted her digit, liking it.

Fingers dipped into folds again, until she found the little space where a probing finger slipped deeper.



A feeling of incomparable bliss.

Her finger slid in, then out. The feeling grew more intense, the finger dipped and moved quicker. There was a clenching against that digit, as her inner muscles began to contract and quiver. Her breathing deepened, her back arched, her mouth opened in a silent moan, as her body burst in rays of ecstasy.

Quivering, she touched the valleys and folds, discovering a lot more moisture. She must have done what her friends cocks did, and leaked out excitement juice, much as mermen did in the sea to fertilize mermaid eggs.

It was a delightful sensation.

In her mind she saw again that man and woman on the beach, the locking of limbs, the cries of bliss. She began to understand…and fantasize…about the movement of a cock where her finger had been.


“It’s not safe for her to remain here.”

“I know, I know. The King isn’t a problem, Trey-”

“It’s not the King I’m worried about- it’s his sneaky cur of a son that concerns me. He was staring at her the entire time, almost drooling over her. If we don’t do something, he’ll just come by and take her, maybe when we’re not even here.”

“Can’t let that happen to our little miss.”

The two men shook their heads in unison. They’d been together for so long that they could complete each others thoughts.

“I could ask Cedric…” Mudge began.

“CEDRIC? Fae! He’s almost as much a lecher as the Prince. He’d be balls-deep in her before he got out of the yard.”

Mudge frowned. That was true. As keeper of the Royal Stables, Cedric was in charge of the breeding program, and he was often fondling his cock under his tunic. Mudge doubted he was really aware of it. Truth was, he was so used to seeing Cedric do it, that he’d forgotten about it.

They went back and forth from candidate to candidate.  Each was ruled out for a variety of reasons. Nelson was too often at the Prince’s beck and call, Will Taft was always half-drunk, Mistress Kimberly would just as soon install the girl in her pleasure house, the cook, while dependable, only had one day off each week, and had just had one, two days ago. She needed to find sanctuary, and sooner rather than later.

They went out to the garden, subject shelved for now.


She heard them go outside, decided to join them in the late-day sunshine. She’d had a lovely nap, then woke and lightly bathed her leg-parts. They were inspecting the beans for insects, she saw, as she left the house. The chickens were feasting on their finds, squawking and setting up a flurry of feathers with every tidbit dropped to the ground. They still made her a bit nervous, those chickens. One of her first tasks had been to gather eggs, and the hens did not like cold hands thrust under their bottoms. She’d been pecked many times in the last week, until Mudge sighed and took up the task once more.

She debated going in to join them, but instead, leaned on the fence and watched.

“Well, there you are, girl!” Mudge waved at her. She curled her fingers at him, in the way of her people.

“Come join us,” called Trey.

She shook her head no, pointing at the chickens.

“Scared of  a few chickens, are you?”

The voice, thick and rich, came from right behind her. Heart racing, she whirled, staring up, and up into the face that had haunted her memory for more than a week.

It was him!

Her man, from the beach.

Her mouth opened, closed. Eyes wide, she took a half step forward, as if to touch him, then froze. An echo of the sea witch’s words came to her, then.

Be certain, Princess. Once th’ deed is done, there shall be no going back. To kiss, to be loved, is the greatest of pleasures, and the deepest of pains. You will feel both, before this is through.


Mudge and Trey hurried from the garden, greeting the man like a long-lost brother. Ushering everyone into the house, Trey moved to set out a tray of nibbles and a beaker of ale for all, except for the Princess, who had taken one taste of it on her first day and spit it onto the floor. She knew by now to fetch her own glass of water from the pail in the kitchen. When she returned, three male heads were close together and speaking in low, conspiratorial tones.

She stood, tapping her bare foot on the thrushes until Mudge noticed her.

“Back so soon, girl?” he asked, trying hard to sound nonchalant. She would have none of it, and stalked up to them, arms folded across her chest and scowling.

“This be Lucas George Woodman. We’ve known each other forever.”

She scowled at Lucas George Woodman. He smiled back at her. He had no idea what was up her bucket, but she was very obviously pissed as hell.

“Say your piece girl, and get it off your chest.” And a fine chest it was, too, he noted silently to himself.

She stared at him a moment.

“Uh…Luke, the thing is…” Mudge began, casting worried looks at the girl. She’d never been so… temperamental…before. Maybe she was having her moon-cycle? He knew his mother and sisters could be hell on earth to live with during those times. Woe be to the man who pointed out that wee fact to one of them, however.

“She’s mute.” Trey spoke in a manner-of-fact tone, taking her by the hand and tugging her into his lap.

“We’ve been protecting her, you see,” continued Mudge.

“The Kings spawn has taken a fancy to her,” finished Trey.

“Aaah.” Luke’s face grew concerned. The Prince was well known for his brutality with the fairer sex, often maiming them in the most horrible of ways as he and his cronies “played”. He had a very strong preference for virgins.  It all became clear to him now, what his two oldest friends were asking him to do. Yet miss high-n-mighty kept frowning at him.

“What is it with you, girl? What are you angry with me about, eh?”

Mudge jumped in. His friend was an only child, after all.

“It’s okay, really. She’s just…a bit…off today. And…-”

“Mudge, shut up!” Trey laughed. He spoke to the Princess. “He thinks you have your moon cycle, girl. You don’t do you?”

She shook her head. It was not egg-laying season for her yet, if that is what the men referred to.  She smiled at Mudge, then went back to scowling at their guest. She wondered why she was so attracted to him. He kept looking at her breasts, and then looked like he was still laughing at her about those stupid birds. He had played swords with another female, and wondered why she was standing away from him?   Human males, it seemed, were as thoughtless as mermen.

Trey pushed her off his lap, and towards Lucas George Woodman.

“You best learn to get along with him, girl. He has agreed to be your new protector. He’ll take you far from the Prince, back to his home in the deep woods, and care for you. It is a good match for you. Likely a good one for him as well.  And we see each other a few times a year, so we won’t “lose” you, either.”

Mouth open, she stared at Trey, not even noticing when Lucas gently took her hand, pulling her to his lap. They were sending her away?

Her heart sank, her eyes welled with tears. A blink, and a silver drop fell from her face to Lucas’ hand. He shivered, suddenly suffused with caring for her.

“ah, doan cry, girl,” Mudge sniffed a bit himself. “We love you, we do. And we’ll come to visit you, as soon as we can. When it’s safe and the Prince has forgotten you.”

Rising, the large man crossed to her, and pulled her into his arms for a giant hug. He almost crushed her, speaking quietly against her ear “if ever you need us…we’ll be there. I vow this to you, little girl.”

Trey took up the hug where Mudge left off. The smaller man was no less overcome than his companion. Cupping her small face in his hands, he kissed each cheek tenderly.

“You’ll always be our little princess,” he said, little realizing the truth of that statement.

In short order, they had put together a travel packet for her, a satchel of food, and then they were off. She was confused, scared, and for the second time, considered sliding off the giant horse, and running back to the sea from where she had come. Yet his arm was snug around her, holding her tight.

Dusk was falling as they made their way out of Mudge and Trey’s small cottage-yard, and down the lane, heading inland, away from the song of the sea.

Lust Dance

You’re reading. Maybe lifting your coffee or tea mug to your lips as you tune in to see what devious story nilla has spun today?

Ah, but today is not a devious story created by me, but for me.

Today, I am with my Master.

Not just tea at Starbucks, but behind-the-door with Him.  His fist in my hair, His body on mine, with my Master.  Absolutely Fucking- A-awesome! I’ll be flying high tonight, drunk on pain and sex. I’ll be weak and shaking-handed tomorrow, and likely unable to think coherently (unless I have time to pre-write for ya’ll…if not, I know you’ll understand my hazed condition!)

Master spends time the week before a meet…preparing me. Mind fucks abound. Teasing. Hints of torture. Little ….things He says. Things He does. Sexing me up with His words, and texts, only to leave me hanging…shaking with wanton desire. The rampant need to cum only surpassed by my unrelenting admiration for the pure deviousness of this Master of mine.

I’ll let you in on a behind the scenes, during the week scenario He spins for me.

You know I’m not allowed to orgasm on Thursday. (ZNN Day) Which  usually runs into late  Friday evening, until He either has phone sex with me and allows me to cum, or gives me permission to masturbate. This depends on his schedule, primarily. So, most weeks, no Orgasms for about 48-50 hours.

Thursday, I’m slogging through vanilla stuff. A mandatory meeting. Helping a friend out with a ride. Yada, yada. And some house renovation preparations.  He texts me.

BTW…might have a guest DOM cock for you to suck on Sunday.

That was it. Right there in the middle of  ZNN.  A commingled rush of lust and fear and nerves.

Later He says “no promises….” because He isn’t sure of this other D’s availability. But once more, that rush of lust and fear and …submission.  I’m so turned on. And I tell Him. And it’s torture, to be so turned on, and have it be ZNN.

He loves hearing that.


He’s ramped up the “torment” this week. Sunday night? I ask and receive permission for an O.  He says he’ll generously increase that. Coz my care is His responsibility. I get an O…and a half.

The half MUST be taken last.

Then no O on Monday, just that constant state of arousal.

On Tuesday He gives me two O’s. But since He really, really likes me on Tuesdays… He’ll bump that up to 2…and a half. The half to be taken …last.  Then ….He amends it further.

I get a choice!

(He says that in the same tone of voice that announces the WINNER!)

I  may take just one single O. No halfies at all. But only ONE orgasm.

Orrrrrrr…I can take two Orgasms…plus the half O, which must be taken at the end.

We chat. He tells me to take my hand off my nipple and listen up.  How He knew? I’ll never know. I don’t play with my nipples that much. I don’t.  Between that little “gotcha”…and the CHOICE….when He hangs up the phone, I can hear  the smug in His voice. So sure I’ll bite for the bigger number. So certain  that I’ll self-torture myself so that I get that extra Orgasm.

No. Won’t.

I’m not gonna. Nope. Not me.

I peg and clamp and…soon it’s apparent.  Oh hell.  I’m going to go for it. I HAVE to. …I know one O won’t be enough. I’ve been in a constant state of arousal for almost 49 hours. I’m desperate enough to take the sucker deal.

Whoa. The two O’s come smack dab back to back. I know there is another just laying under the surface….yet I have to jerk away at the last second, crying and moaning with my own need, and my bargain with the Devil.

Wednesday I’m given another O.


And a half.

See the pattern here? He is making me nearly insensate with lust. You’d not believe the number of typo’s I’ve corrected in this, already. It’s amazing. It’s frustrating. He knows me so frikking well.

So, as sub-sis aisha says, I’ve been “holding the tension” all this week. Slipping and sliding down that slippery slope that is the lust I feel for this Man. Wet, throbbing, wanting…I am a wanton, craven whore. He doesn’t MAKE me that…I do it all on my own.

But He knows *exactly* which buttons to push, which knobs to turn, to ratchet me up to a level that is almost unbearable…then eases me back down…then sends me flying back up. It is the most excruciatingly amazing, exacting dance that we do.

And I have absolutely no doubt as to which of us is Leading.

Dominus Litis

Dominus Litis, a kink-camp for submissives! Be watching this space for news and information about enrollment; don’t be left out in the cold…(unless that’s your kink!)

She read the email. How the hell had someone even known to send this to her? Oh, maybe someone was perusing blogsites again. She sent it to the trash.

She awoke in the middle of the night. She dreamed often and vividly. This was a wild dream. A place, in the woods. She was naked. She was being chased. Just as she felt a hand tangle in her hair, she woke up.

She wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad about that. She was, however, wet. Rolling over, she pulled her toybox out and grabbed the blue vibe. It only took a few minutes for her pussy to explode. Tired again, she dropped the toy into the box and flopped over, falling deeply asleep.

In the morning, another email in her box from Dominus Litis. Whoever the fuck DL was, persistent was one keyword. She thought about sending the email, unread, to the trash. Shifting in her seat, she felt the soft rush of pleasure against her sore pussy. And she thought, “what the hell”.

She clicked the link.

Dominus Litis

Cumming soon? Don’t mind my punny ways…if you’re a submissive, you’ll want to think about coming to our camp.

Here, submissives enroll in role-play events that will unfold over the length of your stay.  Stay a weekend, a week, or longer.

Edge-play at it’s best. It isn’t always safe, but isn’t that what makes it fun?

Pre-contracts insure that you will fully express what you can live with after you leave here. Tattoo’s? Body piercings? Rape play?

What do you dream about? Let us weave your fantasy into reality.

She read it again.

Her finger hovered over the delete button, then slid away. A fantasy camp just for submissives? Not a camp where she’d go and see all these other happy couples and feel left out and left wanting. But a real place where she would be played with, and her fantasies played out?

It bore thinking about.


Last week, due to Master’s kindness…or maybe because He was uber busy at work, too busy to orchestrate His slut’s orgasmic duties…He allowed me a “free-pass” orgasm.

Only one, mind you.

Still, one is better than none! Plus, i could use any toy or toys i wanted, orchestrate any fantasy scenario…it was all mine to play with.

This was so kewl!

He takes Ownership of me very seriously, and is rigorous in my O’s…whether it’s going to be a ZNN day because He wants to fuck with my head, or like Sunday night, giving me the occasional freebie…

Or He may set a scene in mind, or choose the toy(s)…in all ways orgasmic, and beyond, He keeps me on my toes, and constantly held tight in His fist.

gods, just writing that gives me happy shivers!

But Sunday night He gave me a pass on detailed instructions. i wanted something different from my ‘normal’ fantasy…this take was to be a bit more twisted, a bit more almost-realistic. The roots of it, of course, lay in the fictional story that bloomed here as “Drunk”- that of the training School of Q….

That orgasm scenario was the fantasy that you read here yesterday.

Now, like many of you subs out there, i am required to submit an O report the day after my orgasm. Often i will text Him a “thank you Master” right after i cum  (if i can remain conscious long enough afterwards!), sometimes with a brief “wow that was intense” or “nothing fancy, but nice nonetheless”….just as a FYI sort of thing.

Sunday night i texted thanks for the permission,  prior to getting into bed and getting busy. I was just so thrilled about the “freestyle” orgasm. But before i could get going,  He sent me a  text reminder that i needed to submit a report to Him Monday morning.

Now, i’ll admit, publicly, that i was a bit …huffy…in my response. Coz, yanno…it’s been a rule for a long while now that i need to do the report, and i’ve not missed a one of them. Several went to Him late in the day due to family circumstances, but none have ever been missed.

That was pretty much what i texted in response. It was polite, but a bit …terse. Maybe a tad defensive. A bit snarky.

Coz okay…i was still sad about not getting to see Him. And a bit…miffed. i *knew* it was beyond His control. Still, it will be a while before we even have the possibility to see each other again. A LONG while… something like …3 weeks? (this is for “face time” not to mention play time!)

So i was dealing with my sad feelings, and then, layered over that, became frustrated…(okay, annoyed)  about His reminder to send the O report in the morning.

Crawling into my bed, tugging up the covers, getting myself set, i was muttering. And finally i just lay there knowing that if i didn’t put away those feelings, i was never going to be in a sexy mood, would have a hard time heating up, have a hard time cumming at all.

Deep breath. Another. And then…dreamspinning…

i created my fantasy, putting all of vanilla life out of my head. Just…away in a box, on the shelf in my life closet. There, for that moment, i was *in* my fantasy.

And if you need to,  you can take a second to pop back and refresh your memory of that wee fantasy. It’s here.

When that orgasm roared through me, it was like being….gosh…how to describe it? It was like being run over by a freight train, and exploded.

Every cell in my body felt it. There was a moment when the Universe held her breath…when everything  was suspended,hanging still and silent,  before i crashed over the edges of the need, and went free-falling into bliss.

If you happened to freeze in place for a nano-second of time there last Sunday night around 10:25 p.m. eastern time, um, that was my fault!

In other words, it was fuckin’ awesome!

i’d barely had time to put away my toys before i fell into the deepest sleep i’ve had in a week.

I woke up in the morning, refreshed, and clearer of mind and much less sad. i read all of your comments and felt better that this …this nebulous network not nebulous…this..invisible network? yes, better….was there, reaching out and patting me, and consoling me…and i thank you all for that.

It is a wonderful feeling to be so nurtured and cared about, especially when i had been so very low.

Now,  to get back to those orgasm reports….i’m thinking that  you would be surprised to know…well, um…overall?  They’re pretty boring.

i mean, He’s never said ‘gee nilla, this sux” after reading one, but He’s also never patted my head and gone “good girl”…usually i get  a one line response from Him….like…. “nice job on the O report.”

Or if it had pain, He might say something like…. “your pain is My pleasure…” …something lovely and  Dommish like that.

i tell which toy or toys came out to play, the order in how i heated up, how His directions worked, describe whether it was a BIG orgasm or a teeny one…all that …stuff. It is really just straightforward and pedantic. Or do i mean pedestrian? Whichever.

i don’t go that much into the scenes i picture, the words, the feelings the drama…all of what  goes with (at least for me) making myself get turned on and having a lovely cum.

um…i guess, looking back at the past objectively,  i was holding back, a bit. Maybe because He controls so much of it, yanno?

But last Monday morning?

OH, i was in the mood for something different. I was ebullient with a good orgasm, a good sleep.   i decided i would knock His black sox right off of His feet, and write up the fantasy just as it rolled through my mind! Writing it out made me all wet and horny all over again, and i was certain He would be pleased to see the entire story, as it came to me, through me. i was sure He’d sit up and go “whoa” and i could picture Him, sitting there, reading it, maybe even getting turned on from it.

You’ve read  what i sent to Him. The fantasy is totally unedited from what i sent to Him. Pure, raw, gritty sex.

But wait. Before i go on, i need to fill in a few more details…which means backpedaling a teeny  bit  more…

…okay,… well..i’m  His slut. Yeah, i know you know that.  But that is “slut” as opposed to “whore”…..

Sure, sometimes when we’re fucking, and it’s wild and  intense and i’m screaming with the joy and lust of it, or begging Him to hurt me more, please more…then He’ll call me His whore.

But most of the time, it’s simply ‘slut’…

We’ve talked a lot about the “whore” word…and “whore play”…which includes the “whore” shoes (which are the header pic for nilla swirled).

He has a name for His (make-believe) ‘whore’…which is Penelope.

There are times when  i text Him something very slutty,  where He is prone to respond “Penelope?”  He sometimes does this  to annoy me, and sometimes does it to let me know that i’ve  hit the combination that makes me sound whorish to Him.

Now i’m guessing that you can pretty much see where this is headed, now that i’ve caught up the backstory, and presented you with all the info you need to figure this out?

Fast forward  up to my sending off the orgasm story to Him.

After writing this hot piece of orgasm fantasy, and sending it off right away, bright and early in the morning, and feeling so damned proud of myself….i got my bubble burst.

i checked my email around 11:oo on Monday, dying to know what He thought of this hot little piece of writing. I was so happy that He’d had time to read it, and could hardly wait to read what He’d written to me.

i stared in open-mouthed amazement at His one-word response, in shock and disbelief.


this is so long already, i think i’ll post part two tomorrow…

9:36 p.m.

i got His 7:00 p.m. text at 9:03 p.m. i’d stayed up late to watch a show on t.v. while finishing up some work.

i’ve been staying up toooooo late, and i’ve been drag-ass tired this last week. Lots to do, more canning to accomplish, more harvesting (which will lead to yet more canning) and …my vanilla life is simply close to overwhelming just now.

And i told this to Master, that i needed to get to bed earlier than the midnight i’ve been running all week. Coz, yanno, i get these great ideas for stories as i lay in bed, and i spring up and write them. Likely coz i’ve not had day time to write all week.

it’s a conundrum to be sure.

So, back to the text.

you may have another  O tonight, same rules as last night’s orgasm. However.

the deed must be done by 10:00.

After 10:00 you are on ZNN.

So i called Him. And we chatted, shared our days a bit. He interrupts something i was saying.


Oh, oh, i have less than 30 minutes to get this O in!  And i was gifted an O this afternoon, which makes the 2nd O of the day a bit longer to chase.

And we chat for a bit more and finally He says “slut, it’s 9:36. Get to work. Goodbye.”

And we’re done! He’s so succinct like that!

And i put the clamps on my pussylips, and the pegs on my nipples, and retrieve Dildo Dan…and start. First trek is half-way up that mountain.

And i’m horny in my head. And a bit in my pussy…how can i talk to Him and not feel that deep need well to the surface?

So i press onward (heh heh…)….

and my pussy lips are throbbing with the clamps and that’s pretty erotic, and the vibe is hitting them and i’m really starting the climb now.

And then, i’m halfway there, and i have to stop. And inside, i’m worried. Twofold worried…will i be able to “re-catch” that amorphous slutty feeling, and what the fuck time was it.

i couldn’t help it. i grabbed my phone and pressed the button.


Geezuz!!! i guess it had taken some time to catch heat!!

Now my heart is fluttering and i’m thinkin..”oh my goddess, if i don’t get this O i’m totally screwed until Friday night — 48 hours away…”

And my body is saying “slut, fer gawdsakes, you had an O this afternoon, and you’ve been working all day, what the fuck do you expect of me…

And i flip Dildo Dan back on and then i’m powering on….my clit is throbby, my pussy lips ache…and my nipples are throbby.

And i think of sin.

isn’t that strange?

But there it is. No, not the church version  sin, subsister sin!

She talks often about pain…wait…let me find one of those relevent posts….. …

she talks about having to cum with pain..and i get that.  Right now, at this moment, i’m remembering all her posts about pain and chasing orgasms.  And she talks about how hard it can be sometimes, the pleasure chasing the pain, then pleasure is ahead, then pain again….it’s like a race (that’s my interpretation, btw)..

And i’ve never been too bothered about it before. i love the pain. And to be completely honest, i crave it, need it, to cum. Not always, but often. And He plays with that, sometimes not letting me have nipple pain, just teasing my clit until i’m so wound up i can’t help but explode…

But this night, all i could think about was the time sins post here: and i thought…i’m chasing that fucking orgasm, and time is ticking, i hear it in my head..

or is it the heartbeat echoing from my clit?

And i’m working for it, dying for it, lusting for it. And it hurts, my pussy lips, my nipples…all afire, and pushing away the orgasm, even while they incite me to higher “lusty” places….

… it won’t.





And i’m flopping like a fish on my bed, (and isn’t that as unsexual an image as i’ve ever put in your head before??! ) and i’ve lost my fantasy, and i’m feeling.


feeling alright.


Turned on.


A lot of pain.

and lust.

So wet.

So needing to cum.

Chasing the orgasm. And i hear the clock in my head, like Captain Hook’s alligator in Peter Pan….

And honestly, i don’t think i can make it. It’s gotta be almost 10!

i can’t look.

i need to look.

i’m so close.

What the FUCK time is it…

and i exploded.

Literally, like a cum balloon (oh, goody, two gross images in one post. Aren’t you glad you get this for free?!)…my legs are shaking…not trembling…my arms are numb, the dildo is vibing painfully intense against my pussy and i’m bent like a bow…arching and cumming and squirting and so. fucking. alive.


i thought i might be dying.

my heart…racing …no…thundering in my chest…and i think…ogods, how will this look on the obit page?

and then i laughed and knew it would be okay.

i got the feeling back in my nipples first.


intense whallop of pain there, followed by the swollen ache of my clamped pussy lips…

I grabbed my phone.


thank you goddess….i made it.

i texted Him…something simple and innocuous…”mission accomplished”…that might have been too long actually, my fingers were still numb…*laugh*…

and then after a few more minutes, i sat up and wrote down the salient points so i could recount this tale to you.

er…except for the flopping fish part…that’s pure “day or two later” mode talking there!

Thank You, Master for one whopping, powerful, unbelievably intense Orgasm–it was worth every second of frustration…then again…You know that already, don’t You?!





Pocket Rocket

for a certain monkey who inspired the thoughts…such a naughty monkey!! ~n~

She closed her phone and sighed.


That story made her pussy throb, her body yearn. She still had 5 hours to go on her shift, and here she was, squirming a bit on her chair. She knew better than to read porn at work!! Now she was all kinds of stirred up.

She could feel the wetness there,  the liquid warmth of her pussy as it responded to the naughty words she’d read, and internalized.

She could so imagine being that “leading lady” and being taken like that…submitting because she wanted it;   no- needed it. And getting royally fucked?

She tried to focus on the piles of paper on her desk, but the need to squirm in her chair was growing rather than abating.

She knew what that meant, that she’d have to do something about it. She reached into her desk for her purse, and headed to the ladies room. What harm could a little pocket rocket time cause? She’d be back well before anyone really missed her anyway.


She came, hard. Panting, her face flushed, legs splayed as she sat upon the john, she felt the wetness sluicing from her body. Grabbing a hunk of tissue, she wiped up as best she could, the rough-textured paper making her moan as it rubbed against her throbbing clit.

Rising on trembling legs, she re-ordered herself, and washed her hands in the sink. She saw her face, dewy and flushed with her orgasm, and smiled.


She pulled open the door to the ladies room only to draw back suddenly. Drake was right there!

He pushed her back inside.

“I know what you do in here on these little ‘breaks’ of yours, Amanda, and it isn’t pissing.”

She started, guiltily, her hand rising involuntarily to smooth her hair.

He locked the door, and grabbed a hank of her hair, pulling her against him, and kissed her hard.  She didn’t fight, or resist.

Interesting, he thought.

“Turn around, put your hands on the sink and look in the mirror” he ordered gruffly.

‘yes sir’ she murmured. She’d known he was a Dom, the gossip circled around here like water in a whirlpool. “He’s into that stuff” she’d been told on more than one occasion. “He’s into S & M, you best steer clear of that one.” Or the even more enticing “He’s such a bad, bad boy,” with the little winks and nudges. Oh, the appeal was there, even for those women who were too, too proper about sex. No one knew of her own predilection for submission, for pain. Somehow it didn’t seem a career-building opportunity for a woman.

Which totally sucked, really, since Drake was a big mucky muck, and he could be ‘out’.

Her hands grasped the cold porcelain. His eyes met hers in the mirror.

His hands grasped her warm hips, and tugged down her panties. They lay in a small, incriminating pool around her ankles.

“One word will stop me. Tell me what it is.”


He smiled. He had seen her at the last munch.

********************nilla note************************

i was going to stop the story right here, just keep it a hint of sexual misadventure…but then i thought…hell,  i’d like to tell more, and i am sure most of you would want more, yes? So i’m making chapter 2 here…all one story in all one place, but broken into two parts in case you only wanted to be a bit …tantalized. If that’s the case, don’t read any further…*smiles*

Do let me know which *you*  chose…the full version, or the stop right here? ~n~


“The next time I hear that word from your mouth, this stops, and we’re done, capiche?” He waited a heartbeat, until he saw her slight nod.

Gods, he could smell her cunt.  His fingers slipped from her hips to her pussy. She was so wet she was dripping. He looked at her in the mirror, eyes closing as his fingers drew across her folds.

“OPEN those fucking eyes, slut!” he barked at her.

The hard tone jolted her, and her eyes widened. At that exact moment he drove three fingers into her wet channel, and fucked hard.  Her head canted back and her breathing became audible, raw and gasping.

Three short pumps and she began begging. Good, the little whore knew to ask, rather than just spurting.

Just as she was on her third “please Sir?” he pulled his fingers out, wiping them on her ass.  He loosened his pants quickly, pulling his throbbing cock free, and stepping up closer to those  lovely round globes, he slid into her.

Their eyes met in the mirror, hers deeply blue with lust, his dark. The slightly parted lips were enticing, and he knew his cock would do a turn there, too.

He drove into her quickly, bringing her back to begging in record time.


He fucked harder.

please, Sir, please…”


Her soft ‘ung ung ung’ as he drove his shaft deeply into her spurred him on. The sounds echoing off the walls, the slap of thigh meeting ass, those sexy grunts every time his cock hit ‘home’,  all worked to build him to a fever pitch, and with one last, deep thrust, his seed boiled up his shaft and deeply into her dark, warm tummy.

“cum” he gasped, and he felt her convulse around his gently twitching cock, as if her pussy was planning to milk every last molecule of his seed.

He pushed away from her ass, sticky and warm from the pressing of flesh, and bent to pull her panties up. His hand patted the crotch, already beginning to dampen as his essence and her juices began to sluice from her.

He pulled her upright by her hair, pulled her hard against him. His arms locked around her, his eyes taking every nuance of expression from her.

His lips found her ear.

“You will wear these panties all day. If you need to piss or shit, you come here to do it, and only wipe the piss or crap…my cum stays.  Understand so far?”

She nodded, a small, wincing movement with his fingers still wrapped in her hair.

“When the day is done, I’ll take you home. We’ll finish this there.”

She nodded again.

“or perhaps,” He added, with the second smile of their encounter, “we’ll just be getting started.”