I know, you’re used to seeing a pic of my boobies here on Thursdays. But I’m going to be late on that, simply because I’ve been too busy working to even snap a somewhat sexy pic. I don’t take *hours* to set up, gods no! But I’d like to be a little bit in the spirit of the thing, you know. And I have other stuff to talk about. And if I get time, later this week (insert  wild, raucous laugher here) I’ll even post a story that’s been floating around my head this last week.

You know from my last post that M has seriously fucked with my brain. This morning, after having not one, but TWO nights in a row of nightmares about being used by ‘bad’ doms, I had to write to Him.

I had to say something I haven’t said in all the 8.5 years that we’ve been together. Or is it 9? I forget. I guess it is close to 9. Anyway, I’m dithering.

I had to lay out a hard line in the sand. Boundaries. Me, who never, ever, EVER thought she’d say no to something, finally had to. Hey, I’m not young anymore. I’m bumping up against my 6th decade on this planet, and I’d like to make it to the 7th or 8th or beyond, even. (There’s a big eclipse in 2072 that I’d like to see…)

Yes, I sent him a list of hard limits.

No asshole licking (does that make me wimp?) despite the fact that I’ve done it before. Back then, I found it extremely unpleasant, even though it also turned me on. Because I’ perverse like that. Now I’m older, wiser (at least a little) and can appreciate the danger factor in picking up a disease from licking some strangers shitter.

No breath play. There was an asphyxiation sex play death in my area recently. Kind of shook me. I love watching a guys hand around a gals throat when I watch porn, but I don’t really want to be choked out when a strangers dick is down it.

No knife/gun play. I guess that should have been a hard limit a long time ago but it never was an issue between us. But he said Doms plural, so who knows what they could bring to the table…er…bed?

I’m not sure even 20 minute passed before I got a text from him.

“What the fuck nilla,” it began, and I knew then that I’d shown him I doubted him. I didn’t. I doubted them, but it looks like I doubted his judgement and I could see it…after the fact, of course.

“Call me later this morning.”

He never asks me to call him in the morning. It’s a challenge with both of our schedules. But I made it happen. The phone call started the way the text ended. Except for the tone.

“What in the everloving holy fuck would ever make you think that I’d put you in that position to be harmed like that?”  he says, his tone mingled perplexity and …love?

I stuttered. Stammered.  First, that he showed me that kind of caring. We have a strange relationship, one that looks weird from the outside of “us”. I know he cares for me and can’t usually say the words. He shows it, but it just isn’t Him to be all lovey-dovey about it. I know he wouldn’t kill me…or let anyone else harm me. I know it deep in that safe spot inside of me that allows him to hurt me so good.

But I had been really scared.

I was scared for a week, and I finally couldn’t not ask.

We talked it out.

I didn’t remember tell him about the nightmares, but I will. And we’re good, though I could tell there was still some feeling of WTF, slut in there. He knows I’m a flighty and ofttimes off the wall slut. I’m not sure he fully realized how much he’d freaked me out!

On the bad side, and totally unrelated to this little D/s hiccup, he  might need to cancel our playtime due to a situation totally out of his control, something he may have to attend.  And he gave me days of notice, so I won’t be moping Saturday afternoon.

It will suck for us both. He told me that he’s hoping to wiggle out of it if at all possible. That’s major, as he usually doesn’t say stuff like that. Like…ever. It helps a lot, knowing this, that he wants to hurt me, fuck me, be with me.

So we’re good, crisis averted for the nonce. I’ll keep you posted on tittypix, and playtime. 😀

If you don’t get titty pix, you’ll KNOW we had playtime and I was just too busy being fucked and spanked to post.

(wouldn’t that be great?!)

















Broken and Hurting

Hi ~ my name is nilla and I appear to have broken myself.


Somehow I’ve not done all the “right” things and hurt my back badly. So badly that it affects my walking, my ability to move about freely. It’s all muscle–or rather, one big painful pinched nerve. So I’m on pain meds to deal with it.

But it means that we can’t have our playdate.

You know, the one that I’ve been quietly anticipating for the last two months? I’m in too much pain to move, to twitch about the way He enjoys. I’m in too much pain for Him to have fun hurting me. And since I have a vanilla life where I must have mobility…we’ve had to cancel our time together. I told Him that I could show up in my oh-so-sexy heat wrap thing. Yeah. No. The mental image of that did make me giggle though.

So instead of a lovely fucking time (pun intended),  we’ll have coffee and tea and share a decadent dessert together tomorrow, in lieu of my getting my ass fucked, and beaten.

“You’re being sensible, nilla,” He says, when I express my deep disappointment to Him today. “I can’t do anything to you, so it makes sense to wait until you’re better before I beat the shit out of you.”

Only in D/s land would that make so much sense, yanno?


But it does, right?

This isn’t erotic pain. This isn’t something that makes my pussy hot and wet and excited. This is “how the fuck will I get upstairs to my bedroom” and “OMG I sat down for too long and can’t get out of my chair”. This is having to allow extra time to do anything…Including peeing~no last minute run to the bathroom because I had one more thing to do first, oh hell no!

It sucks. But I’m being a big girl about it all.

I just wish there was medicine to take for disappointment.

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. 🙂





Did I Mention….?

….that August was a supremely busy month for my vanilla life? I’m sure I have, more than once.

I want to say thanks for all the whammies, good thoughts, blue bubbles and prayers you all sent…I found out yesterday that the job I wanted VERY much…is mine! *beaming* It’s not a “grandiose” job, a blue-collar job–but it’s MINE. My own little business, and I’m doing well at it. And I’ll be SO much closer to home, and making a tad more money, and getting to spend time with my entire family which is a nice side package.

It will curtail some of the ‘face time’ that I get with Master, but we’ll make it work. He is so proud of me for getting the job.

And speaking of the Man…we had a little tiff this week.

Okay. *I* had a little tiff. He doesn’t “fight”. He lets me blow up, blow out, calm down…and then we talk.   I *was* clear and concise in my thoughts to Him…arguing by text certainly makes one succinct. uh…perhaps even a bit terse. But I was polite, if a bit caustic. I add this–because I’m sure from the outside it looks like Master and nilla have a “perfect” relationship.

No one has a perfect relationship.

It’s the ebb and flow of emotions and needs–that are often at opposite ends of the spectrum for each party involved–and learning how to dance the dance, and find some balance. That equilibrium is hard-won sometimes. Obviously HIS needs come first. But our relationship is based on the fact that we both get our needs met, somehow. And we don’t live together, and our D/s isn’t 24/7. I am not a slave, nor a pet, but His slut.

And sometimes it is so. Fucking. Hard.

Hard to maintain that spark, that interest in being submissive, and for Him, “Domming”, every moment of every day. Vanilla life intrudes on us all the time.

Wait…hold that thought….no. No.

It doesn’t “intrude” so much as intertwine. He knows of my kids and their ventures. I know of His kids and their lives. The vanilla parts of us weave through the “U/us” of our D/s coupling…it’s part of who we are and what we bring to our relationship. It can’t be ignored. He has His job, His life-things that need to be handled, and I have mine.

Now, mind you, He is ALWAYS a Dominant. That is integral to who He is as a person. He is firm, and I know that it is my place to sit and listen while He talks–not to interrupt or interject–this is part of our D/s dynamic at play with our vanilla. I get my turn. Eventually. 🙂

And sometimes my —? My what? My needs? My obligations? All those things that I juggle day-to-day…they make me even more needy for Him to be MORE Dominant. Sometimes I want Tasks (as if I even had time to make that work, right?) or something  to make me feel more bound to Him. I told Him that I felt like I needed Him way more than He needed me.

I’m not sure about that now, now that the heat of my frustrations and needs have been tamped down. It’s been a long time since playtime, and I need a good beating. But others have waited longer than I have, and have survived. I am never sure what triggers one of my eruptions…neither is He…but we talk it through and move on.

So there you go. Neither nilla, nor Master of nilla–are perfect people. Let me know if you meet any, because surely I’ve never met any. What we are? Persevering.  What we have is special and wonderful and good. It feeds us both on some level. Our connection to one another runs deeper than a whip mark; deeper than the fucking pink hairbrush; deeper than ass fucking. It’s about Him knowing me well enough to tolerate my little rants– and helping to move us forward. It’s about me being there to listen to Him as He drives home after a long day, or share His successes, or to joke and tease one another.

We’re strong because we know we belong together. I’ve said it to a few others…Master is the only Dom I want. If we separate, or –the circle of life takes one of us from the other? I know I’d never even go looking. He is exactly what I need–despite the aggravations that crop up from time to time–despite the ‘not-always-available-to-be-with-one-another’ times–despite the fact that I’m WAY more needy to submit than what HE requires of me…He fulfills me in ways that I can’t even put to words. The yin to my yang, as it were.  While I believe, fully, in free love, in spreading it around?

He will be the last Dom that I will ever serve.

Does that surprise you? It did me. I know it did Him…and I’m still not sure He really believes that.  I spent a long time in fantasy land, and I’m happy there. But I’m happiest when I’m with my Master, in whatever times we can carve out for ourselves.  I can’t imagine my life without Him. I’m a keeper, a stay-er.  And Him?

I’m keeping.


Am I Boring You Yet?


frankly I’m amazed I have any readers with all this real life stuff I’ve been posting and almost zero stories…but wait…isn’t real life a story, too? Oh yes…not a “storybook romance” in typical vanilla fashion, but definitely a story.

I wish I had some erotica to sprinkle in…only thoughts of His hand weaving into my hair as He kisses me brainless, His hand smacking me–hip, ass, thigh, arm–stinging, hurting, and feeling so right. Being so amazingly high as He fucks me silly, or pinches me, or bites. He is a wicked fierce biter, and it hurts like fuck-all, and makes me whimper and purr.

But this for now is fantasy. The reality of a meet is still weeks away, maybe more if we can’t make the timing work for us. But I’ll still get to see Him after work this weekend and that helps.

One of the things I have been meaning to mention is about Felt Tips, that sensual anthology that I got my first published story in. Thus far it is only available in e-format, and it has made just over $2500 in six months, which is phenomenal! No one of us is making any money on it; all the profits are going to charity. Which one? Adopt-A-Classroom, which says that for every dollar sent they can get about $25 dollars in school supplies for kids classrooms. And isn’t it rather reprehensible that we have to have fundraisers for school supplies for children, but we (as a country) have no trouble  making giant flying bombs? (not going there today, just a mini rant–if one sentence actually equals a rant)

So all that is good news. Eventually the book will come out in paperback so we’re hoping to at least double our take — well, I am anyway. So, if you’re in the mood for a sexy set of office erotica, do browse your e-book shop and look for Felt Tips!

On a different note…

Did I mention that when I was helping sofia decide what to pack to come here, that the forecast was for cooler than normal, no heat in sight? Last week was so chilly we had all the windows closed…but of course we still wore shorts…its summer even if it’s only 62° out! But I thought that since she’s from the south, that she’d be freezing if she came up here and it was that cool, not to mention how frigging cold Boston can be with the sea breeze, which can easily drop the temperatures 15°-20° if the east wind kicks up, something that happens a LOT at this time of the year. It’s great for the City folks, while we central people are roasting (the phenomenon only extends about 10 miles inland, though once in a while it will push a bit further inland…but never as far as we are.)

Late Thursday night I happen to watch the weather. My week was pretty chaotic with my spouse gone to the left coast for work, so my weather watching time was greatly diminished. Did I almost shit a brick when the forecaster says “heat wave for New England” starting Friday and extending through the weekend and into this week?  You bet I did. I got ahold of sofia and let her know the update, but really? When she got here she was all “oh, it’s fine, it’s like home…a bit cooler actually.” While I’m standing there, sweat pouring down my back, my face red, my arms getting sunburnt, feeling like someone had stuck me in a sauna, there she is, cool as a cucumber. 🙂

All in what you’re used to, right?

So, one more funny sofia and Master story and then I need to get my butt in gear and do something productive. 🙂

Between calling sofia by her vanilla name, as well as her blogging name, I was confusing Master. “Wait…is this the same one?” He said to me on more than one occasion. After a while, He decided that He was going to call her by a different name. (He can be that way, you know!) The name He decided to call her?  Was Ralph. (insert sounds of cackling laughter from me…)

“Ralph?” I struggle to say, between bouts of hysterical giggles.

“Really, Master? Ralph? You won’t use it to her face?”

“Sure I will.”

So I think, He’s just trying to get my goat. Just tweaking me. Don’t you know He DID say it to her? Thankfully she was forewarned, and we laughed about it, but really, Ralph? Laughing, just laughing. He is a nut that way. We share a very strange humor –Master and nilla–and here I spent most of my life thinking *I* was the only one wired that strangely! NOT! And isn’t it lovely that we found one another in the first place?

And even better that we find one another *that* funny after all this time together?


*insert goofy, lovesick smile here*





HNT-Where Master Shows off His nilla



Hair a disheveled mess. Hands, cuffed in those damned velcro bonds, fingers interlaced and behind my head.  Nipples freshly sucked and bitten. Many orgasms given. He took this and said I should share it with you all, because I was lovely in my mussed up state.

Thank you Master. It was one of the best ‘together’ times we’ve ever had–even if I didn’t manage to get Your ‘manly nipples’ (this time)!

Random nilla-ness and HNT to boot!

It’s been a strange several weeks in nilla-ville. I’ve been writing like a fiend–i’m not quite certain why telling you all that I was taking a vacation, and then NOT taking one  let something loose in me. I’m not sure why that *felt* like a vacation. Like I was giving myself permission to party. I dunno. It was weird and good so I’m not questioning it all that much. The best part is that you all have enjoyed the fruits of my endeavors. 🙂 That’s always gratifying!

So we’re here between UnderDom’s and I thank you all for liking these last two stories so very much. I’m trying valiantly to catch up with all the comments, which are lovely. Last week I had internet and phone issues, and this week I’ve had personal ones. This is the week that I do an extra job, and an old one that I do at home has resurfaced after months of no work, and I got a concussion, and my youngest son has been very sick and and and….

You know how it rolls. It’s just life-stuff, and sometimes it’s overwhelming and consumes all your free time, and sometimes it is more manageable. This weekend I had to do some socializing, (emphasis on “had to” !)  which meant being with a TON of people….which is okay-they are people I like. Here’s the thing. and this may sound weird, but you guys know…it’s nilla so it has to be weird, right? 🙂  The thing is, people like me, and on these rare occasions when I show up, they all want to chat. It’s person after person after person, sometimes multiples at the same frigging time!. Don’t get me wrong– I love seeing them all, and yet…it is absolutely exhausting. And it sounds weird to say out loud that they like me…and in a complaining sort of way. It isn’t meant that way. It’s just coz I’m a wicked introvert.

Introverts find these sort of encounters to be just that. Very draining, very …hard.  Likely that’s why I enjoy blogging so much. I’m connected but on my terms. I can pop in, write, respond to comments, pop off again…it’s a form of interaction that is not stressful in the least. This is my “happy place”.. 😉

And I was able to get a wee tiny bit of Master time, very unexpectedly, mid-week. He was doing business in my area, I had to run out and do errands, and we managed to hook up and share a quick bagel lunch in his car. This is the sort of encounter that is balm to my spirit. We’ve missed our weekend visits; I’ve worked later than usual on Saturday’s and He’s been busy Sunday’s…so we’ve had precious little face time.

We finally have a rescheduled play date. And it’s soon. Not this weekend, but next. He left it to me…”culture date, or play date”…and OMG I was so torn. I’d LOVE to go to the museum with Him–this was our plan for our February date. But now, more than 8 weeks since our last playtime? OH gosh do I need to be beaten! I’ve gotten the “Spring Friskies” and have threatened to stalk Him around the room, kissing and nipping Him.

He laughs and says that’ll be hard to do with a ball-gag in my mouth, a rope tied around me, and secured to the bed while He gets some work done. 🙂 And besides, He reminded me last night, my “piggies” need some serious attention, including rubbing a toothbrush between my toes. (My toes curled up when He said this diabolically teasing voice…). I pointed out that He forgot last time …why? Why did I do that? Dumb nilla, just dumb. Coz His response? “Well, nilla, I guess I need to extend my time with your piggies this time, don’t I?” *egads!!* When will I ever learn?!

All of which reminds me…it is Thursday and He requires me to “post tit pix pronto!” So here’s this weeks HNT:


Don’t mind the wee blur in the center there. I have a scratch on my camera lens. It makes me nuts but *shrugs* what can I do, right? What? You didn’t see the blur? *grin*

Okay, random other stuff. It is going to snow. A-fucking-gain. I am so ready for spring. REALLY ready for spring. I need to get outside and walk. And play in the dirt.

No, peeps. I already play in that sort of dirty. *giggle* I mean the nice, rich loamy stuff. Dirt under my fingernails, flowers growing, tomatoes sprouting, baby lettuce ready for munching…that sort of thing. This is the year I can finally work hard in my gardens. My kids are old enough to help, or play safely by themselves. Up until now I’ve had to keep an eagle eye on the wee one…but no longer. I am loving that my kids are old enough to be like this. And they love to help so who knows – this could be my best gardening year ever!

OH, and you all read over at Erotic Writer, right? I hope you do. Will and I are very good friends, and he’s been on a roll lately with senryu, which is a poetry form similar to haiku. Kinda. Sorta. (He also has done these “sketches” that realllly speak to me. You can find them here. You really should read them-they are amazing…just go give it a whirl!)

I am NOT an expert, its syllabic form breaks down the same as haiku, but I’m not sure of all the other rules. I was taking a shower the other day, and was thinking about the form. Will is *frigging awesome* at it, a true master with the lightest touch to evoke emotion….and I, wordy bitch that I am, will never come close to what he does.  I am reasonably good with haiku, though I struggle with the  naughty ones. This is what I sent him and he told me that I had to publish it. Who am I to argue with a guy who writes as well as he does? Ready?

my pussy like an
empty cannoli waiting…
fill me with your cream.

See? This is why I don’t do erotic poetry very often.  Comparing my pussy to a crunchy cannoli? *sigh*….Yet, Will assures me that he loves it, that it is very much my “voice”….so take from it what you will. 🙂  All I can tell you is that I’m more than a tad irreverent, so if you’re expecting serious erotic poetry? Go visit Will!

More random stuff:

Master and nilla had our second anniversary of my collaring…and we both forgot it! OMFG, I laughed so hard when I realized it, as did He. Romantic, yes, I’m a romance fool, but remembering specific dates? Not so good at. So happy 2nd collaring for us. Altogether we’ve been a couple for 3.5 years. Time goes by so fast. If you’d told me when I first started the blog that I’d be collared, beaten, fucked, and orgasmed half-to-death…I’d have laughed in your face. But as I said to him, he was the answer to questions that I’d never dared to ask myself until meeting Him. He has changed me, filled me, healed me, and hurt me….and I love Him with all I am. I’m a lucky girl, and yeah, He’s lucky too. I’m pretty fucking stalkeresque devoted. I’ve told him, I’m like the burr on his pant leg. He can shake all he wants, but I’m stuck to him. 🙂

He loves when I say that. *giggle* OH so much (eyeroll).

Wow…that was a ton of randomness, wasn’t it? Okay, my job here is done…HNT–check, random thought dumping–check, whining about snow–check, so you know what that means?

Back to writing! Happy Thursday all!

Boring Shit

That was an intriguing title, was it not? (much laughing!)

Ms. Constance pointed out in her comment to my yesterday post that my illness had not made me lose my slutty smutness…that’s a paraphrase…and that made me smile. I think the ONLY thing that’s kept my good humor has been that very thing.

I’m working on a story for publication, and that is where most of my energy went today, I’m afraid. That and a great NCIS took my evening, and my creative juices have dried up, just like my rash. LOL.

So you’ll just have to put up with another boring nilla real-life post, I’m afraid. If you really MUST have a story, there’s one on the Dark Fantasies blog…I started it quite some time ago but you’ll see where it begins in the calendar…I think Part One, Catching a Slut came up in December? I’m too lazy to go check, sorry. And I added a new chapter to that today as well, that was for Michele and Southern Sir who have been avidly following the story as I’ve drooled it out.

Yeah, that’s some pretty imagery there.

Drooled it out. sheesh. *laughs*

See? Didn’t I WARN you that my creativity was pffft. Oh, wait, that’s my fart noise. Scratch that. Insert sound of air escaping from a balloon. Not a fart. 🙂

And that reminds me of Ms. Constance’s other comment. You can tell I’m a Ms. Constance groupie, can’t you? I simply adore her. If you go to Aisha’s blogger conference? You will get to meet her, and adore her too.

So Ms. Constance said that none of the comments nor my post about farting gave ANY sort of compassion to the poor Dom/Tops who were the recipients of said “hot air”…which of course made me laugh like a loon. To my way of thinking…you to the poke, you get the smoke. Of course, I’m a bottom, so what I think doesn’t really matter in this instance.

But I’m sure my Master will be pleased that at least one Domme has risen to His defense. 🙂

Did I tell you all that Master and I had a Superbowl bet? Can I tell you how incredibly painful it was for me to root for the Ravens? They are not nice football people, to my way of thinking. And they beat the shit out of my Patriots. So it was hard for me to admit that they would go all the way on and win.

Yet …I had to listen to my voice of reason. I had to go with them. I missed the point spread…and had a moment of panic in the last 4 minutes of the game that they *might* lose…but in the end, they did win.

And so did I.

I got…an orgasm a day for 3 days. Yes. Three. In a row.

Woot Woot Woot.

We’ve had some earthshaking orgasms here, people. Soaked the bed so bad I had to change the sheets. And it was just me and my vibe!!

Tonight is my very last O for a while. He says for a long while. But my birthday is this weekend so I’m hoping He’ll relent and get me a lovely Orgasm or three or four …and He won’t even have to wrap ’em!


Happy Hump Day, ya’ll…I’m off to do dirty things to myself…and maybe I’ll even tell ya about it…later…. *wink*

This Would Have Been A Story…but…

…it’s all Master’s fault. 🙂 Really, it is!

Master and I haven’t spoken nor texted much over the last few days, with Christmas, and my working, and our familial responsibilities. He was out late Christmas night, and I went to bed early, and we just didn’t connect.

I’d had permission for two orgasms!

Yes! Two…

But I had a glass of wine before bed, and when I came up here, I did a wee bit of work, answering all the blog post responses over the last few days, and then I was overcome by sleepiness.

And fell asleep before I could even think about reaching for my vibe.

The last text I’d received from Him was permission to have 2 o’s on Christmas, OR one Christmas and one tonight (Wed.)…and I’d decided to extend the pleasure, since I know He won’t give me many O’s before a meet. Or, like last time, none, for a week.

But falling asleep cost me an O.

He texted me this morning (wed.) to ask me about how I’d decided to divvy up my o’s…and I had to admit to falling fast asleep. And then he texted me that I wasn’t allowed to keep the 1st o…it was gone with the zzzzzz’s.

He and I caught up via phone tonight, and He’s been teasing me mercilessly about sleeping through a double O. “Oh like you really needed an O, right. Like I’ll believe *that* when you say it, little girl.”

Whoops. The big meanie! I didn’t *mean* to fall asleep, but I was pretty tired. And He very much enjoyed tweaking me about the situation!

So…I would have been here, writing the next chapter of a story, but we talked for over an hour tonight…it was a lovely little chat, we don’t usually talk that long these days…and my writing time is now gone.

Or as Master says… “nilla, it’ s time to go pound your pussy.”

That’s why this isn’t a story, and why it is verrah short…coz some things are more important…and I *do* need to follow Master’s orders.


Off to take care of the (wonderfully exciting) task I’ve been set to! More writing Thursday night, perhaps!

Masturbation Fantasy

 It was Tuesday, our “Like” Day…a special day in our week when we connect. This one was tainted by my fuck up over the weekend, and I simply was not certain what would come of the day that has been “ours” for nearly 2 years. But once again, Master surprised me. It was the day we made up, when things were settled. When we texted each other and resolved the biggest issue. Later, as the dust settled, He allowed me an orgasm…I always get an orgasm on Like Day…but there were parameters. I had to create a fantasy to masturbate to that would include ice cream…part of my punishment is that I can no longer have any without His express permission…which will be a long time coming. So the fantasy had to have ice cream in it. I crafted it in my head, then lay in bed and began it. It was a powerful orgasm, since I’d not had  any in many, many days; it was also a cathartic release of all the emotions that were still floating through my red head. 

Wednesday I wrote it down, exactly as it played out in my fantasy, exactly as I had done in in my bed (albeit substituting clothes pins for Masters mouth on my nipples). He liked it enough that He told me it is “bloggable” …High praise from my Master, indeed.  ~nilla~

You stood over me.


Hands tied over my head, feet apart.

“I could get twenty guys in here to fuck you. Use every hole, use it well. I could beat you, pound you into a pile of goo.”

I swallow hard. You’re not angry, you’re calm, firm, resolved.

I wonder what the fuck You’re going to do to me for my fuck up.

“Instead, I’ve brought just a few guests.”

You open the door and a woman stands there, holding a large ice cream cone. You go to your bag and pull out  two vibes. You cover one in a condom, squirt lube on my pussy.

“The lube carries the vibrations a lot more intensely” You say, almost to yourself.

“She will let the ice cream drip. All over you. ON your face, your hair, your tits. And she will lick it off you. You can smell it, feel it, do everything except taste it. This will be the last ice cream that your body will see, feel, experience until next summer…and only then if you are a good, very good, slut.”

She takes the dripping cone and holds it over me. where she stands, she blocks my view of You…but in moments I feel the pressure of one vibe on my clit. The second one roars to life and is gently inserted into my pussy.

“By the way. No fucking. You’ll have orgasms all right…but not one single bit of fucking. Bad girl.”

There is ice cream dripping on my cheek, my tit, my belly. She passes the cone over and over me. I feel You, taking a lick along the side of my tit, sucking hard on my nipple, then biting. I whimper, but not much sound comes from my duct-taped mouth. You have made certain that not one molecule of ice cream will pass my lips.

You play the second vibe over and around my clit and as I squirm, You press it hard against my tender bud…I’m moaning and trying to move and You bite my nipple as you torture my clit. There is pain and pleasure on both ends of my body.

Finally Your mouth leaves my nipple; You continue to play the vibe on my pussy, making sure the one firmly inside is still planted deep, while mauling my clit with the other. You whisper in my ear, as her mouth licks and laps the dripping ice cream on my body. It is torture AND a turn on , her warm mouth, the cold ice cream.

“nilla was a very, very naughty sub, yes?”

I nod, whimpering behind the sticky gag.

“nilla won’t make this mistake again, will she?”

I shake my head, vehemently,..NO no, I won’t.”

Your voice continues, the honeyed whisky of your tones at odds with the mean Dom things You say. “Maybe I’ll let Sir P fuck your ass next time. That would be some punishment, wouldn’t it? Or maybe a whole string of guys. One after another, using your ass, your pussy, your mouth…how ’bout that, huh?”

I whimper, shaking my head NO NO NO…this is NOT something that I want. Sir P’s cock already hurts my pussy…the thought of that…in my ass…. no…not a pleasant picture.

There is a plop and I arch up in shock…that bitch has dropped the rest of the ice cream onto my belly and is sucking and lapping it. I can smell it, and my mouth waters. I must swallow hard and fast so I don’t drown in my own juice. You had spoken of drowning me, after all….and it’s cold, so fucking cold. The dual vibes on and in me are making me come so close to cumming. My nipple hurts where You bit it, and I’m shivering with cold and lust…my clit throbs, painfully reminding me that i’m that close to orgasm…time to take away the stimulation…but you’ll have none of it…


When I cum, it is intense, very wet…and I almost pass out with the force of it.

nilla was a very bad slut, Master.

Thank You for allowing me an orgasm on Like Day.