A Short Tale

Teeth hurt.

Not the actual teeth. Okay, the actual teeth made hurt. Teeth on her inner arch. On her ankles. On her thighs, her ass, her tender nipples. A very D/s kind of “tooth ache”, really.

The rational part of Emma’s brain tried to sort out the grammar, right up until the object in question bit into her pussy, grinding the lips of her labia between strong white teeth. She arched, mouth straining to generate any sound other than mewling, arms and legs tugging futilely at the ropes that bound her, quite firmly, to the bed.

hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt HURT!

The words, gagged behind panties and tape, could not be released, and He wasn’t paying any attention. Or maybe he was, and just enjoyed hearing the small animal sounds coming from her. His hands cupped her ass, lifting her cunt to his feasting mouth. For a moment there was a break, his tongue gliding wetly against her sore lips, rubbing at her swollen clit. Her cries changed from high, pain-filled grumblings, to the deeply pitched moaning of bliss.


She. Was. Almost. There.

Her thighs trembled with the need to clamp around his head, begging for more, just a little more. The ropes refused to give, and she whimpered in frustration.

The lapping tongue ceased its teasing rub. With a fierce pull, the tender nub was sucked into his mouth so hard that she feared that he would pull it from her body. She arched rigidly, held on the crosspiece of pain and pleasure. It was so intense she thought she would cum right then.

But earlier, when he had finished tying her to the bedposts, when he had plucked at her nipples, and made her desperate for more, he’d said ‘wait’. Held by her desire to please him, the desire to be his obedient little slut, she waited. And besides, it wasn’t quite enough.

She moaned when he finally released her from his command. His firm ‘COME NOW’ wasn’t permission, but an order. But it wasn’t quite enough, even then.

And then he bit down, teeth slashing at her swollen, sensitive pleasure hub.

Arching, erupting, shaking, screaming, she came.


She understood how people felt back in the medieval days, strung out upon a rack. Her wrists were drawn so tightly that she could barely flex her fingers. Her thighs were tied open, spread embarrassingly wide, and her ankles bound too.

Open. Vulnerable.

He sat, a dark shape across the room. The light shining upon her body threw him into shadow. If not for the occasional shift of his body, she would have thought he had left. But no, he lingered there, staring at her.

She swore she could feel the weight of that glance, touching her tits, her nipples, drawn tightly into buds in the cool room. Perhaps she could feel his eyes stroking her pussy, each succulent lip devoured in a look. Her clit was swollen with her humiliation.


After forever and another minute passed, a creak from across the room drew her attention. He stood, moved towards her. From the shadow that was his form, a hand appeared in the light that bathed her body. A finger trailed up from her toes to her ankle. It slipped up along her inner calf, before curling up and around her knee.

“Oooh,” she squealed, trying unsuccessfully to move away. Silly, since she could barely wiggle her bottom. It set her fat tits to bobbling, though, and the finger rose from her ticklish knee to flick at one bouncing nipple. Her moan changed, deepened.

“This is desire. Arousal. The need to be touched…”

She swore she could feel His voice, a deep sound in the quiet dark room, in her bones.

“But for you, little one, an even deeper need. This.”

His flicking ceased, and he pinched her nipple firmly between that teasing forefinger, and his thumb. Arching with the sudden pain, she sucked in a breath.

“Yes,” he murmured, “You need this. As do I…”

His voice trailed off his hands gripped her tits, squeezing the soft flesh firmly until she whimpered. Quick as a striking snake, he slapped her face. A tear, single and sweet, pooled in her eye as she stared at him. Her cheek glowed from his hand; though she could not rub it with her wrists secured, she could feel the sudden heat.

His fingers pinched her tits, bruising the tender skin, drawing an assortment of noises from her. A quick slap on her left tit was followed by a pincering grasp of her nipple, and a shockingly sudden twist.

“OWIE!” she yelped, struggling. “It’s not the oven nob, there, Sir!”

“Perhaps not,” he agreed, “But I’m certain that it’s turning you on.”

She giggled, then moaned as he continued torturing his way down her body. He pinched her inner thigh, then caressed the apex of her pussy, but never quite touched where she yearned.

“Want something, slut?” He murmured.

“Yesss!” Her voice turned pleading. “I need you to touch me…I need to cum, Sir.”

“Ah. You want to cum, but that’s not the same as need. You need food. You need water-“

“I need it Sir. I really need to cum!”

“Are you sure?”

If she hadn’t been desperate, she might have taken note of the silky tone of his voice. But need overcame sense, and she nodded, and continued to beg for his touch. Still his fingers teased her, hurt her. Her cheek throbbed where he’d slapped her repeatedly, her nipples ached, but her cunt, aching with need, remained untouched.

How much time passed before he relented? She wondered how long he’d been tormenting her, how much more she could bear of his cruel fingers before she begged like a child for it to stop. If she did that, there’d be no orgasms for the month, she knew. She quivered when he spoke in her ear, his voice, carried in a caressingly warm breath.

“Okay, you may cum.”

His footfalls moved away, out of the light.


“Patience, little one,”

In a moment or two he returned, carrying his favorite toy.

“I thought you’d fuck me, Sir.” She tried not to sound petulant.

“You were mistaken. I will take my pleasure from you, little one. In my own time, in my own way, as always.”

“Yes Sir,” she replied, eyes downcast. She watched as he placed the bulbous head of the wand against her cunt. Felt it as he wedged it tightly between her pussy lips. Still, nothing happened, and he walked out of the light again.

She strained to hear, but he was quiet. The sound of duct tape being pulled off the roll was loud, and made her jump. She wanted to ask, but managed to shut her mouth. If she was too rude, too pushy, he’d stop this and she so desperately needed release.

Back at her side, he adjusted the wand and began taping it to her inner thigh.

“That’s going to hurt when I rip that off,” he mused. Then laughed quietly. She bit her lip, keeping silent.

“Good girl,” he said with humor, slapping her thigh. “This is what you wanted, to cum, am I correct?”

“Yes Sir!” she replied promptly, excitement in her voice.

“So be it!,” he said, and flicked the vibe to “on” mode.

The first orgasm came quickly, her body primed for release. She whimpered that she was done, and “Thank you Sir,” but still he played with her tits, ignoring the buzzing vibe.

“Oh! It’s so…too…oh…Sir!”

Her body arched with the stimulation, coming again. Again, the “Thank you Sir,” and again he ignored her, pinching and pulling her nipples, grabbing her tit meat and squeezing and kneading it.

“Oh GOD…plea….AAAaaaa…”

She came again.

And again. Tears, pleading, crying, begging him to stop, please.

“Cum for me, little one.”

Her body shook and quaked as the dastardly machine ripped another orgasm from her. He moved, then, placing his hand over her abdomen.

“Your muscles are shaking and quivering, and it’s only been seven orgasms!” He exclaimed. “It’s such and amazing feeling!”

By the eleventh she was muttering endless streams of “omygawd omygawdohmygawd…”. By fifteen she was drooling; sloppy, soaked with sweat and cum and tears.

As she quivered through the eighteenth wave, she barely felt the tape being pulled from her quaking thigh. She screamed as he jabbed into her sopping cunt with his stone-hard cock. He fucked her roughly, as she clenched around him, coming continuously. He held the vibe against her clit as he drove her up and over into incoherence. Strange words came from her mouth, along with grunts and moans. Her pussy gripped his shaft, her body trembling fiercely. With a final push, he buried himself in her belly as his cock injected streams of semen into her.

With a flick of his thumb, he turned off the vibe, and smiled, stroking his palm down the side of her face as she, still quivering, now slept. They’d both gotten exactly what they wanted.

He was pleased.

Hired! ~18~

She was thrumming. As an avid reader she had often thought that any of  the books she’d read about D/s -with all those silly adjectives- were just that…silly. But her body was quite literally thrumming with anticipation. She yearned for him; his touch, his wit -even when he drove her crazy, which was about every other sentence-and even his rare smile. Through his careful application of touch, and words, and the fucking, frigging, gawd-awful annoying chastity belt, he’d made her burn with needs so intense it was painful. Or pain-empty, she thought snidely.

Normally she would object to that, to being ‘trained’ to be so needy. But here? Now? There was no denying that she wanted to scream in his face

“FUCK MEeeeeeeee!”

which would not be very dignified, and who knew how he’d react? He likely wouldn’t like being screamed at in her banshee voice, but he might enjoy that he’d driven her to the absolute end of her wits. She kept her eye on that shining key, transfixed. It held, literally and figuratively, the keys to the kingdom. Or the pussydom. Or the Dom’s pussy.

She wanted to giggle, but held it back because then she’d have to explain and she wanted to get that key!

“I see you’re holding conversations in your bobble-head again, slut,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “I wonder if I’m in any way involved?”

“I-sorry,”Sir. I was…thinking about the key. About getting out of this. About your delicious cock…”

“All to the good slut but unless you shut up..verbally AND in your head, you’ll not understand the game. If you don’t understand the game, you’ll lose, and you’ll have to wear that to work tomorrow.”

He pointed at the silver belt that fit around her waist, that blocked access to her very needy pussy. Swallowing hard, because she absolutely did not want to wear the belt to work, OMG perish the thought, she nodded, biting hard on her inner lip to silence herself.

“Better,” he said, watching her for a moment.  “I’m going to clamp your nipples. Every ten seconds, I’m going to tighten them. If you can stand it for a full two minutes, you’ll have passed your first test.”

Slowly she nodded. What choice did she have, she pondered. It was take the clamps and torture, or be stuck wearing metal panties. Flicking her nipples to draw them taut, he grasped one, and twisted it experimentally, making a ‘hmm’ as his eyes bored into hers. She winced as he tweaked hard to the right, then harder still. Nodding, he released the swollen bud, only to snap a clamp upon it.

She gasped aloud.

“Already you react? It’s going to be a very long 120 seconds then, won’t it, slut?”

She swore she could see the sadistic gleam in his eyes.

“It was just..”

Just what, she wondered. She couldn’t tell him how needy she was, not yet. Or tell him that the quick bite of the clamp had arrowed a shot of lust-pain directly to her clit.  Quirking his brow at her, he twisted the other nipple.  This time she expected the quick hit of pain, but he slowly released the lever, denying her the jolt that her body was craving.

The smirky smile danced around his mouth, tightening her resolve. She’d bear that two minutes, indeed she would.



The first ten second tightening was nothing more than a caress. By the first minute, she was squirming, her pussy throbbing, her nipples starting to burn.



As He tightened the knobs on the clamps for the tenth time, she thought her nipples were going to be crushed beyond salvation. Feeling the seconds pass with the painful pulse beating she whimpered through the eleventh and then braced for the twelfth, (thank all the gods!) and  final twist. Gritting her teeth and breathing slowly, she stared at him.

“Good slut,” he said, then flicked a finger along each clamp, setting them to bouncing. “Now, jump.”

“What?” her tone was pure shock.

“You heard me.”

Looking steadily at him, she thought about disobeying.

“It’s…going to hurt.”

“Yeahh,” he purred.


Cocking his head at her, he smiled.

“Did you say something there slut?”

She shook her head and gave a half-hearted jump. Her tits wobbled and wiggled, and she groaned.

“Good practice jump. Again, but higher.”

She groaned louder, but jumped a bit higher.

“Slut. Your toes barely even left the floor. JUMP, cunt, jump. Wait. I think you need more motivation. Bend over.”

Dear gods, what had she gotten herself into? It had been so long since she’d had a play session. The last time with Asshole Andy hadn’t been playtime, but a brutal beating.  She wasn’t used to this. She…

He slapped the underside of her tits hard, as she stood there, bent at the waist. Her tits stung, and each impact set the clamps to swinging wildly as her huge breasts wobbled in response. Every blow against her under-tit made her squirm and yelp. It was finally only his hand in her hair that held her until he was finished.

“OMG!” she yelped, gasping.

Still using  her hair he pulled her upright again.

“Motivated?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yessir,” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

“Good, then get on with it.”

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. She wanted to kick him. A mutinous expression crossed her face, but she desperately wanted to get out of the damn belt. Fuck, she could prove to him that she was made of strong stuff.

She jumped.

Gritting her teeth, she whistled out a breath as her tits screamed fire from her nipples outward. He stepped up to her, grabbing each large tit in each hand, and smacked them together.

“Such lovely tits,” he said, his hands gripping the flesh tightly. He pushed them together, making her whimper low in her throat.

“Fuckable, lovely fuckable tit tunnel,” he said, before laughing and releasing her. He removed a clamp quickly, flicking the abused nipple.

“Tell me slut, which hurts worse now…the clamped nip, or the one without?”

If she could have done anything in that moment, she would have hit him, or bitten him, or something, but the two different pains had her mouth opening, closing, and silent.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you were speechless. I suppose it won’t last, but at least now I know how to have a moment’s respite…” He laughed, pleased at his own humor.

As she opened her mouth to speak, he removed the other clamp. With a gasp, she doubled over, wondering if her nipple was still on her, or stuck within the clamp. Lifting her by her chin, he kissed her, hard.

“Good slut. Step one, done.”



Waves of Submission

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

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

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

And i explode.

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay there” he says in the Dom voice.

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

Stay there.

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

Stay there.

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

Stay there.

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

I half-whisper my reply.

yes Sir.


Dr. Strangeguy~Unfeeling (part 1)

“Tell me, little girl, why are you here?”

“Well, uhm…”

“Now, now, none of that temporizing. I’ve been on the edge of retirement, yet your call brought us here to my office today. Speak.”

“It’s gone. I-I’m afraid I …lost it.”

Her head hung low, her long red hair hiding her face. Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. In her sandal-clad feet, even her toes, painted a brilliant purple to match the lone streak in her hair, curled tight. His finger, bent from his years, caught her chin and lifted her face.

Concern was clear on his face. The sharp eyes seemed to peer into her.

“It’s time to breathe, time to tell me all.”


Her eyes fluttered downward, looking at his feet. He’d never professionally dressed for these sessions. Part of her thought it might be to comfort his patients, who came from the hinterlands of Maine. Part of her was certain he had way too much “don’t giveafuck” to even notice what he dragged on each morning. The incongruity of his nobbly toes peaking out from ancient birkenstocks made a small smile flit across her mouth.

“Here. Look at me.”

There, that was the tone that she could never resist. The firm command of a Dom–whether he was a doctor or a landscaper–always made her obedient. Her blue eyes rose to his; nerves made butterflies dance in her belly.

“It’s…hard for me to talk about this with you staring into me,” she whispered.

He grinned. Her body clenched for a moment. A smiling Dom, even one who was not acknowledging himself as one, always made those areas of her body waken. This, this was why she drove so far to see Dr. Strangeguy. It never failed to help her slough off the stupor of her ‘regular’ life.

“Continue,” he said, his tone firm. She nearly rolled her eyes at that order–what therapist demanded words? Weren’t they supposed to be content to let people move through things at their own pace?

“I…have…been…stifled lately. For a long time all my stories had left me. And now, now I can feel them there, under my skin. But I don’t have a way to let them out.”

“I see,” he said, his finger still firmly under her chin. She felt a tiny loss  when he moved away. The heat from even that slight touch burned neatly in a fingertip sized circle on her skin.

He moved away, behind her, then passed in front of her again.

“Do you do your laundry every day?”

She blinked. What?

“What?” she said, echoing the confusion in her head.

“Do you wash your dishes, take out your trash, mow your yard, go to work?”

“Well…well, of course I do,” she replied, bemused.

“So you are making time for all these other parts of you, but ignoring this other, equally essential part?”

“Well…” she said, then paused.

She shook her head, frowned. It hadn’t occurred to her until he spelled it out that way.

“I guess…I am.” Her frown deepened.

“Sit.”  He shoved her, hard, one large hand pressed between her breasts. Falling back into the chair, she was too stunned to protest.  “Stay,” he said, moving deeper into the office.

Sit. Stay. Was she a fucking dog now? A protest rose to her lips, yet when she opened them to speak, a hard rubber ball slipped inside.

“Waaagh,” she tried to forestall him around the ball gag.

“No, no more waiting for what it is you really need, slut. You are a slut, as you have acknowledged here before. You pay me to help you. Sit, stay, and be a good girl.”

A blindfold slipped over her eyes. There was almost silence in the room, though she strained to hear. Rough rope wrapped around her left wrist, securing her arm to the chair. Her lips moved, though to protest or moan she wasn’t certain. She felt the hot splat of saliva on her left breast, soaking into her blouse and bra. There was a tremor in her belly now as her right wrist was also secured.

“I’ve thought about your problem. It’s time. Specifically, time management. To slow down time, we’ll keep that blindfold on.”

A rough hand rested briefly on the top of her head.

“Your other issue is touch. Staying in touch with all the parts of you. If part of you ceases to function, it puts a stress on the rest of you. I see the tension in your body as you sit there. Some of that is nerves–that’s good. But some of that is because you’re out of practice, out of touch, with who you really are.”

He paused and she heard him moving around the room again.

“We can cure that easily enough. You’ve paid for a multiple hour session. And a long session is exactly what you need. And what you’ll get.”

She felt the rope loosening from her wrists.

“Stand,” he spoke curtly.

She stood.

“Remove your clothing.”

“Wha?” she spoke wetly around the ball gag.

A hard swat on her ass make her squeak, jolting.

“Naked. Now.”

She obeyed, shivering at the knowledge that he was now looking at her. A Dom doctor with a naked patient. He walked around her. She felt the brush of air on her back, her butt, her nipples as he moved. Another quick shiver ran down her shoulders. Her nipples tightened. She felt vulnerable, exposed.


Still, he didn’t touch her. Moved away from her, in fact, across the room where she couldn’t hear clearly. The gag in her mouth made her drool, and she felt the splatter of it on her chest. Ugh.

“I believe we shall start with this, my dear,” he said from behind her. She felt the roughness, felt his hands–how had she thought them too gnarled?–run nimbly around her back, crossing the rope, pulling it tightly around her chest, cross again on her back. He stepped to the front of her and began to wrap one tit. It tingled. It hurt gently. It was delicious. He wrapped the other tit, then continued to carry the rope up around her back. Her arms were now bound behind her, her tits thrust up and out. She wished she could see, they felt amazing.

Hearing the sound of the seat confused her. What was he doing? Sitting there?  Looking at her? She stood, shifting from one foot to the other. Nervous. Her tits began to ache. As suddenly as they felt good, they began to throb. She moaned.

“There we go. Now you’re ready.”

The first strike of the cane against her nipple made her yelp. But she quickly lost count of the tap-rap-tapping against one breast, then the other. It hurt. It throbbed. She yelped often, especially when he struck across her engorged nipples.

“If you think it hurts now, just wait until the clamps go on,” he whispered into her ear. “Oh, by the way, you have pussy juice running down your leg. I do believe you’re feeling again. Feeling fine, I’d say. And still so much session time. I might even go over time, no charge of course.”

He laughed softly against her ear.

Shuddering at the tone, the caress of warm breath on the tender orb, she came.







sometimes you have to write when you get the chance to write…it’s short, but it’s been in my head for days…

addendum #2…I just found this in my archives, half-finished from October 2016.  I really needed to finish this, you know, because. Because….well, sometimes one is just in the mood for a good hard fuck. Am I right? 😀 ~nilla~

The note was on the floor in front of the mat. She knew what she had to do.  Go to the mat and sit.

She sat. Settled herself. Wriggled. Settled again. She picked up the note.

close your eyes

She closed her eyes. But wait! How was she supposed to do all the instructions if she couldn’t freaking read them?? Her eyes popped open.

yes. I said close your eyes. But read all the directions first, slut. Sometimes you’re too quick to obey…do one thing, and do it fully. Read. Process. Then follow the damned instructions.

She could hear his voice, the mix of wry humor and a dash of annoyance. A smile played across her lips, before she continued reading.

Close your eyes. Breathe. Slowly, for five minutes. When the time is up, you’ll hear a chime. Behind you will be a blindfold. With your eyes closed, and only by putting your hands behind you–and by being as still as possible–find the blindfold, then put it on. Hands palm up on your thighs, and settle into your breath.

“Master, the yogi,” she whispered softly. He often compared submission to meditation, and had apparently set up today’s playtime to illustrate that.

More play, less omh, she thought, disgruntled at the thought of what she was missing. She needed to be fucked, dammit! Orgasms! Many wonderful orgasms! His hands on her, oh how he delivered pain to her ~ and oh, how her body sang with each pounding beat. That moment when her heartbeat marched to the same rhythm of his hand? There was nothing to compare.

She sat, breathing, eyes closed. Remembered that when thoughts flowed in, she was to gently push them away, like little words encased in bubbles. The chime startled. Had it been five minutes…and wait a damned minute.

Shit! The blindfold part. She reached behind her. Nothing. Trying to be as still as possible while searching for something that was behind you with your eyes closed? Just about the most ridiculous thing. Like, ever. A small growl of frustration escaped her.

“Growling isn’t very meditative.”

His voice came from right in front of her. She jumped a mile. Her mouth opened as she prepared to yell, but his finger pressed against her lips, silencing her. The blindfold settled over her closed lids.

“Good slut.”

The praise warmed her, even as her pussy throbbed in need. The tap on her mouth made her open; the ball gag was big, really huge. Her jaws were stretched wide as could be to accommodate the girth of it. How this was at all sexy and appealing to him was a mystery. Senses fine-tuned, she could smell the musky scent of him. How she longed to break posture and wrap her arms around his knees, press her face into the junction of his thighs, inhale deeply the hot fragrance of his crotch. She longed to lick his cock, to run her lips over the curves and lines of his shaft, to feel him grow strong and hard on her tongue.

He stepped away. Though he was silent, the heat and smell that read as “Master” had dissipated. Feeling her mouth fill with saliva, she burned with embarrassment as she felt it slip into the holes of the gag, anticipated the feeling of the first spattering of her own spit on her tits. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

He was nearby, she was sure of it. The knowledge that he was looking at her, kneeling there, blind and gagged, with spit drizzling onto her body as she struggled with the need to move, to wiggle, to wipe away the now cold ooze made her uncomfortable; yet the knowing also made her hot. She felt a different sort of dripping along her left ankle, and knew that her cunt was also drooling for his cock.

Her knees ached. Her back felt stiff. Her nipples grew hard as the air moved around her nakedness.

“Come here. Crawl.”

How did he know she was so close to breaking? He was a freaking dominant genius, that was how. She followed the direction from where his voice came, crawling on all fours like the slutty beast she was, until she bumped into his leg.

“Turn around, forehead on the floor.”

Which meant her ass and cunt would be on full display. Egads, how she loathed this part. It was hot, that she did it because he demanded it of her, but it embarrassed her no end. To have him staring at her ass, her asshole. It was humiliating, and hot. It was always a shock, his fascination with her anus.

His fingers slid up her pussy, flicking her clit, diddling at the entry of her fuckhole. Her moan was loud as his fingers teased along that hot, slick opening.

“You’re hot and wet here, whore. Tells me you want something stuck in here. Tells me  you want a good fucking. Is that true? Is that what your cunt is saying to me?”

“assssss errrrr” She mumbled around the gag.

The fingers slid easily inside of her. The sound was a moan of pure pleasure, her back arching to encourage him ‘more’. She wanted his violence. She wanted to be used in the most brutal  of ways.

fuck me, hard. use my cunt. rape it, abuse it, slap it, make me…”

She moaned, losing focus on her thoughts as he plunged his fingers deeper. The sound when he pulled out was one of disappointment and loss. She needed it! Needed those incredible fingers. Until one by one they popped into her ass. She squirmed, groaning. She wasn’t a fan of anal, yet it drove her crazy. Her pussy began to ooze steadily, an orgasm building in her belly. Her ass began to hurt, painfully stretched by his big fingers in her hole. He shoved them in, tugged them out, the roughness of the assault only adding to the fire in her cunt. She was close, so close to an orgasm.

He stopped.

His fingers pulled out of her throbbing rectum, wiped across her ass.

“Turn around.”

She had no idea which way ‘around’ was.  She rose, her forehead feeling like a mold of the wood floor, trying to find the right place to be. His fingers closed in her hair, tugging her forward. She felt the fine fabric of his work slacks, smelled the fine scent of his cock.

“You want this?”

He slapped her cheek with his semi-hard shaft. She nodded, her nose turning left, right, seeking. The gag was released; she gulped breath, trying not to groan at the feeling of all that spit on her face. The bouncing of the ball was her only clue that he was ready, until his hands grabbed her head and rammed his cock into her mouth. He fucked her mouth as roughly as he’d fingered her ass.

Gods! How she loved how hard he used her!

It didn’t matter that she gagged as he grew longer, harder, thicker. It didn’t matter that her hair was pulled, her cheeks squeezed tight, that her nose was filled with male crotch hair, even though it smelled of pee. She focused on the velvety sensation of his cock coming to life in her mouth.

He pulled out of her mouth.

“I’m going to fuck the holy shit out of you, slut.”

With that, he fell on her, slamming her back to the floor, his body weight pinning her, as his cock unerringly found its way into her slippery cunt. His pants were below his thighs, the zipper scraping along the inside of her leg, and still she whined for more, harder. His body slapped against her, into her, the roughness of his hands using her tits as handles as he drove fiercely. Her cunt screamed, leaking juices like a squeezed lemon. It was rough and hard and with every thrust she could feel her body gearing up to explode. When the fingers from one hand slid between them, found her clit and pinched it hard, she arched, letting him drive deeply into her core. She screamed as she bucked under him, the shock of the pleasure so intense that she didn’t need the blindfold to keep her in the dark.


She awoke in the dark alone. He’d stayed longer than usual, using her again and again until, when she fainted the last time, from the pain and the bliss, he folded her up in his arms and tucked her throbbing body in bed. She glanced at the clock. Uncannily, she’d woken just minutes before her alarm went off. Her body throbbed as she rolled to her side to get up. Her ass and pussy ached, her arms and tits and legs all carried a varying degree of ouchies.

It was going to be a good day.



Admonished (again!)

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

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

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

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

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

fuckity fuckity fuck

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

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

Not to Himself. Nu-uh.

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

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

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

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

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

“Just now.” He shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Problems need correction. you need correction.”

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

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

“Nilla…? Hellowww? M to nilla……”

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

“i..I….uhm……….yes…yes Sir.”

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

I’m not the business woman then.

I’m not the mom then.

I’m his slut, his.

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

“This. Is. MY. pussy. M I N E.”

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


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

Connected. Redirected.


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

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



Punishment update:

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

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

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

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






Tuesday, When He Pulls Out The Dom Card

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

I forgot the task. Oh. Fuck.

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

But I forgot the task.

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

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

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

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

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

“No. No Sir.”

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

“I won’t forget again Sir.”

“See that you don’t.”

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

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

And that I’m His.




Squeeze (3)

The waiter came to the table before she could sit. Before she could figure out how to get her panties back from Sir’s boss. Before she could sink through the floor in mortal embarrassment.

“Your booth is ready, Sir.”

Somehow they were across the restaurant, seated in a curved booth. Somehow she was sandwiched between the two men. Their order was taken, the waiter moving away, leaving them in privacy.

“Cute panties.”

He held them up, suspended on one long finger. She swallowed, trying to dislodge the thickness in her throat. She was about to die from humiliation.

“Cat has her tongue.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I hear she has a wonderful tongue, too.”

The two chuckled.

“This isn’t funny, you know.” She stared at her place setting, refusing to make eye contact.

“On the contrary. It’s funny as hell,” said Sir’s boss. “You have questions, I imagine. Let me tell you a bit about me, and we’ll see how well I do answering the unspoken things in your head.”

He waited, seeing the sommelier coming towards them with a bottle of wine. Approving it, they sat in silence as each glass was poured.

“A toast,” he said, lifting his glass. “To submissives–the world would be far too boring without them.”

They clinked glasses and sipped. She frowned into her glass. Clever, he was. And clever Dom’s were dangerous doms. Her pussy lurched at the thought.

“Your husband and I met at a club, quite by accident. He was…” he paused, searching for the right word. “Unhappy. We talked about his work while sitting at the bar. There was a formidable Dominatrix who tried to put the moves on him, but we found someone else for her to scene with. After that, we started to talk about my business. Turns out that he had skills that I needed to complete my team. That we were both Dominants sealed the deal for me. Things clicked for us, and I’m very pleased with what he’s brought to the job. We have not played together–he explained that you are very nervous about public play–but he speaks very highly of you as a wife and as his submissive. He told me of your joint fantasy of playing with another Dominant.”

Her heart kicked up a few notches. Sir had not said a thing to her about this! Well, not since the last time she’d told him of her fantasy, at any rate. He’d held her tight after a tough scene, her body singing with pain and release. Sated, floaty, he’d asked her to share a fantasy, and she’d told him. He hadn’t spoken of it afterwards–and sometimes she wondered if she had just imagined the conversation had happened. Yet it was still in her, this ragged bit of naughty. To scene with another Dom. With Sir participating. To be fuckmeat. To be used rough, fucked hard, beaten. It was a fantasy that always got her off when she masturbated. She wasn’t sure that she wanted it to be real.

“I know this might well seem to be rather sudden to you, but we’ve actually been planning this for some time, so that you don’t think this was something we both leapt into. I’m willing to get to know you, to see if you will suit me before we decide if we’re compatible for playtime. I have no interest in owning you. I have no interest in ruining my working relationship with your husband. I do wonder if you’re going to be able to complete the task he’s set you to tonight…or if this has come as such a surprise that your ass is leaking.”

My gawd. He knew that, too? Her face flamed.

“Show him your tits.”

She turned to Sir, mouth open. His finger gestured at the buttons on her blouse. There was no bra beneath it, the deep blue color of the fabric hiding the dark circle of her aureola.

“Remove it from your waistband. That’s right, pull it out from your skirt. Now, unbutton it. The whole thing. Keep going…”

Her fingers moved at his orders but slowed as she reached the fifth button, the one just below her breasts. Her shirt would hang slightly open, anyone passing their booth would see her tits. Despite the momentary hesitation, her fingers obeyed, even when her mind objected. Somehow her shirt was unfastened, her hands laying softly in her lap. The bands of the blouse were apart by an inch.

“Here girl, turn toward me.”

Sir nodded, poking his finger against her cheek to turn her head. Again those sparkling blue eyes caught at her. Angling her body slightly, she turned to the man warming her left side. His finger curled under the edge of her shirt, lifting and parting it, exposing her left breast. Though she could feel the warmth of the digit, he never made contact with her flesh. Erotic, overwhelming, sensual– so in the moment she could barely breathe, so turned on she was sure that there’d be a big wet spot on the bench under her pussy.

Her asshole remained tightly clenched.




Perverted Pleasures (3)

If there were others serving in the house, she didn’t see them. After being walked down the sidewalk (two paces behind me, slut, he’d ordered, she remembered with the tang of embarrassment still fresh in her mind) bare-assed naked, and up a set of stone steps and into the big house, she’d expected a big crowd. A club of sorts.

But no.

It was just Master and Sir. She wondered what else would happen to her. Lust curled in her belly, knowing that she’d signed her fate when she’d desired this perverted vacation. She wanted to know what it was that she had been missing all these years when business came before pleasure.

Working her way around the foyer, she tried not to think about how much her knees were aching, how much her back hurt from scrubbing the marble floor with a toothbrush. It was almost impossible to ignore the deep and steady throb of her ass, which was still filled by the anal plug. Yet cleaning the floor this way did split her attention from some of her discomfort. It was such a lowly thing to do, and while she understood perfectly the mindset behind the chore, part of her seethed with impatience. When would she continue to be treated as she had in the car, as a wanton, usable slut?

“You missed a spot.”

She jumped a foot. So lost in her musings, she had been blinded to his approach.

“I’m sorry Sir,” she mumbled, eyes glued to the floor.

“Get that sorry ass over here and fix it.”

As she turned and crawled towards him, humiliation washed over her. Oh, to be treated like a maid. She who could have bought and sold this property ten times over–

A hard jerk on her leash made her choke.

“Pay attention slut. I don’t know where your mind is at, but when I’m here it must be on me.”

Giving the leash another hard tug, he used the free end to swat at her. The sting along her upper back was painful, but, she conceded, justified.

“I’m sorry Sir.”

“Head on the floor, curve your back and show me your cunt.”

The spot where he pointed was wet from her ministrations. Her forehead pressed against the soapy wet tile. She wasn’t happy about that; it was cold and smelled of cleaning solution. She hated for her skin to be touched by it. She remembered all the money she’d spent on face creams over the years. Fingers dipping into her displayed pussy broke her thoughts. Suddenly all her attention was focused on the sensations that his curling digits were causing.

“Don’t you even think about moving. No fucking, no begging. You’re here to be used–a vessel, holes, a cunt. You’re an ass and a mouth and pussy. All hot and wet and available to be used as we choose.”

His fingers slid free. Wiping her wetness on her back, he took up the leash.

“Follow me.”

“On my knees?”

He spared her a brief glance.

“You can walk–for now.”

She rose quickly in case he changed his mind, and followed the proper distance behind. She remembered something about her hands at the small of her back, and placed them there. She wanted to please him–please them both–and she wanted to be fucked.

Master sat on a chair in the middle of the room. His thickened cock had a slight curve to it.Sir brought her forward, looping the leash onto the raised finial on the back of the chair.

“Straddle me and sit on my cock.”

She did as she was bid, yet not as gracefully as she’d hoped. Her leg banged his erect cock, and a sharp slap and verbal admonishment to ‘be careful for fuck’s sake’ made her want to sink through the floor. Somehow she got herself sorted out until she was poised, her pussy lips parted by the flaring head below her.

“Sit. Do it slowly. I want to feel every inch of your cunt as you impale yourself.”

It was a tight fit. He was large, and her ass was still filled with the beast they’d shoved up there in the limo. Her clit rose and began to throb. Her nipples tingled and tightened . Breath came in short excited gasps as he filled her belly with his cock.

“Fuck me. Slow and easy. Up and down.”

It was easy at first. The excitement took her through the first strokes easily enough. Her thighs began to burn after a bit, her calves shook after a few more squats. Her pussy wanted it faster, but she kept to the same steady rhythm.

When his fingers grasped her nipples and pulled them down as she was lifting up, she came.

“There is no cumming without permission.”

Shivering with the shock of having an orgasm with virtually no warning, she opened her mouth to protest. Seeing the look on his face, she stopped herself from speaking. Eyes falling to his belly, she whispered her apology.

“Peter? Mr. Blue, I think.”

She wanted to look around and see who Mr. Blue was, but his arms came around her, hugging her body close to his. His cock was fully impaled, her legs shaking from the workout, as she straddled his lap. There was a tug against her ass, the stretching pain as the anal plug was removed.

She farted.


And cried out in shock and pain as the larger “Mr. Blue” filled her rectum.