He stood looking down at her, an older, silver-haired man. He looked distinguised. His hair was combed tidily, his beard and mustache neatly groomed. His eyes, the color of deep honey, crinkled at the corners from many smiles. He looked classy.  Cultured. And yet she knew better. That face was a mask, for under the mask lay a monster. A tremor shook her violently, her body arching and her mind torn from thoughts of her tormentor.

“You wanted to cum. Remember, slut?”

His voice cut through the lingering shudders. Her wrists and ankles were already pinkened from straining at the bonds that held her spread upon the bed. She refused to answer, or couldn’t, it was hard to say at this point. Dispassionately he looked at her heaving chest, her tits still quivering from the force of the orgasm. Her nipples, once they’d been pinched hard by his fingers, were clamped now, weighted and tugged to the side of her body with her convulsive movements. Likewise, her cuntlips were spread, grabbed by clamps, and taped to her inner thighs to allow the fat-headed super vibe to press up against her innermost flesh, torturing her clit and pussy.

She shook her head at long last.

“Ah, but you did. When I came home last night, after sending you messages to edge yourself, what did I find but my slut, sprawled in the bed asleep, her cunt soaked. Why my dear, the very bed you’re laying upon betrayed you, soaked from your sated pussy.  I was very disappointed that your desires came before mine. Yet, for some reason, I feel the deep need for compassion here, and let you have what you wanted so desperately.”

He paused, leaning forward and flicking the buzzing vibe to high. She jerked in response to the sudden intensity, her head shaking back and forth, her mouth trying to say what sounded like ‘no’.

“The ball gag distorts your words so badly, my sweet horny slut. I’m sure you said ‘more’ right?”

Moving across the room to his toy chest, he removed a fat anal plug. She tried to see what he was doing, but another orgasm snatched thought from her mind as her body shimmied and jerked.

“Here you go, slut.”

He squirted lube over her pussy. It leaked downward, around the pressing head, making her contact with the device even more intense. When she felt the press of the plug against her ass, she knew that all that had transpired previously was just the warm up. She yelped as her butthole was filled, as he clicked the vibe on. The screeeeeetch of the duct tape roll he was fond of made her shake her head harder, but he ignored her again, and taped the ass vibe into her.

Two fingers slipped in and out of her cunt, making her moan. Felt so good to have him inside, but they moved out and away. He rubbed the juice of her fuck hole on her belly, slapping the soft, round skin there.

Again she arched, her body rocked by waves of pleasure, then waves of over-stimulation. So sensitive, she longed to scream out, but the gag held the pleading words inside her head.

“Aah. You must be so happy that you came again. Horny slut. What is that now? 10? 12? I’m afraid I’ve lost count. Oh.”

He tugged his phone from his pocket.

“I’m afraid I have to take this.  I’ll go into the kitchen so I won’t disturb your orgasms. The camera will record them for me so that I can watch them later. While I’m fucking your ass. I’ll be back in a while. No more than an hour, I think. Happy cumming, slut.”

With a wicked smile, he left the room, as she kicked and wriggled through another orgasm. From the hall she heard his ‘business voice’ as he took the call.

“Hello? Sure, hi. Oh, no not to worry. I wasn’t doing anything that I couldn’t interrupt.”

She came again, crying with the pleasure, and sobbing with the pain.

Sunday Texting, In Which He Totally Cracks Me Up

Master was away much of the weekend, and our texting time was very limited. Yet in only a few words, He can utterly destroy any pique I’m feeling, and transmogrify it into humor. And yes, I was feeling more than a bit grumpy about M’s new “use it or lose it” policy regarding my Tuesday orgasm opportunity….


me:  Do you realize that it’s been 13 days since I last had an orgasm Master?     (In reference to the fact that I fell asleep last Tuesday before I could snag my weekly O…)

M: Forget about the orgasms…you need to focus on staying awake.


(Hysterical laughter from my car as I read this to myself)

Face Time/ HNT

I was going to post this on Tuesday…because I had NO idea what was going to happen in UnderDom-land….but then…I had a dash of inspiration, despite my lack of awakeness- this change to Daylight Savings Time is kicking my ass, big time.  So, I have written stories, and yet…I still had this happy-bliss-Master & nilla post to share. I mean, why waste over a thousand words of writing, right? And it was a lovely visit with him…not a play visit, but just time to sit and be with him for an extended time.

Sooooo what to do?  I decided to make this ramble part of my HNT. I know, freaking brilliant, and me, so frigging sleep deprived!!)

I’m sharing a little nilla real life…coz I’m feeling all mellow and lovely and happy. 🙂

Master and I had over 2 hours to hang out tonight…no–wait…that happened on Sunday night— and it’s Thursday as you read this! (remember…nilla/sleep deprived!)

I’m all blissed-out, as us hippie-types say. He and I talked and talked and had tea and talked. He gave me a few parting bruises…but we both just enjoyed the hell out of our together time. It’s the longest stretch either of us has had together (outside of ONE playdate in February) since Christmas. I had time while my son was doing his thing, and Master had time…and it just flowed.

We’re still up in the air about this upcoming weekend. I have left it in his hands about whether we have a playdate or if we’re going to do something classy and cultural, like go to the museum.  I want both. I want to go to the museum with him…I love art, and love the idea of spending a day with him in vanilla circumstances.

Truth be told, there’s ALWAYS a dose of D/s whenever we’re together…I can’t ever recall a time when things were all vanilla –coz  He does or says something that makes me blink or sit up straight or …remember/realize/be brought back to the reality that I’m his submissive slut. It’s amazing coz He can do it with a look. It melts my heart and makes my pussy drool, and my heart race…and the feeling of security it engenders is…amazing.

On the other hand, time being fucked, and beaten, and tortured on my piggies (ewww…toothbrush between my toes is CRUEL and UNUSUAL punishment!!) is pretty important too…and that hasn’t happened in so long…and like SFP...I *realllly* need a spanking. Well, I’ve left it in His hands, and will just have to wait and see what He decides is best for us.


Tonight as we sat at the table, He says “Oh.”

That was it. Just “oh”, lips pursed, and giving me that Dom look.

Finally I ask.

“Oh? Oh what, Master?”

He reaches into His briefcase and takes out a small, neatly wrapped circle. It’s wrapped in a white napkin.

“In here,” he taps his finger on the package, “is a gourmet, freshly baked, chocolate chip cookie. It’s yours…if you’re willing to give up an O tonight for it.”

Now, nilla is “off” chocolate per His orders, so I understand this is a game and a challenge wrapped in one cookie. Yet I shake my head no.

“Master, last nights orgasm was so fantastic that I’m not willing to give up tonight’s O for a cookie.”

“Oh.” He says again.

“Oh. I forgot to mention.”

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a second wrapped cookie. Raising the stakes. Making saliva pool in my mouth. Making my pussy clench and throb.

“These,” He gestures to the two cookies, “are a sure bet. You choose them, you get them.”

He pauses, and his honey-gold eyes look into mine. I’m lost. I admit it. I’m sucked into His world of control and dominance like a leaf into a vacuum cleaner. I’m as into Him in this moment as I would be if I was standing on the Wall in black lace seduction outfit and red stiletto’s, as I am in pink sneakers and jeans here at the table in Starbucks. And then I KNOW what He’s going to say…that the Orgasm is NOT a guaranteed given.

These are the kind of things He does that keep me on my metaphoric toes, when He can’t thwap the shit out of me. He gets/holds/keeps my attention, my focus, my wits sharp. This is predicament bondage sans rope. Or perhaps more accurately, His words are the ropes that bind me, hold my attention, twist me up into knots, and make me crazy for Him.

Do I take a chance, spin the dice, play the odds and maybe get a fucking orgasm?(would you?) Saturday nights cum was more than a little delightful. It was intense in the best of ways. As I said to Him, I was very glad it was just ONE orgasm…a second one like that one might have killed me! Yes. It was *that* good. (and I have the stain on my sheets to prove it!)

Or do i take the sure thing? The two gourmet, soft, chocolate-chunk-laden cookies. Feel them melting in my mouth. Feel the chocolate as i bite into it. Feel the sugar rush, the taste of a banned food, allowed for this small window of time.

The orgasm the night before was sooooo good. But Tuesday, Like Day, is a guaranteed orgasm. And only 2 days away. (Two LONG BUSY BUSY BUSY days away)…

The cookies…chocolate…


I took the cookies.

For one of the rare times in my life, I took the sure bet. I had a better than 75% odds against getting the O since the Saturday one had been so immensely intense and good.

He laughed as I scooped up the cookies and stashed them in my purse.

“That’s okay, little girl,” He says in this voice that is brimming with amusement. “You have an entire week of half-o’s to have anyway, leading up to Sunday.”

And then He laughs, that Devils laugh that sends steaming shots of lust straight to my belly (and if you ever wondered why Michael’s laugh affects Shae so much? Now you know!) And I know I made the right choice. But I still moan about the fucking half O’s.

I ate the cookies on the way to pick up my son. They were *totally* worth the cost of an orgasm, btw. OMFG.


So… you guys.

You know who you are.

The ones who always say “MOAR”…when a story ends, or is slow to re-appear. Yeah. You. *laughs* Trust me, I LOVE when you are greedy for my stories. It makes me happy that you get something out of what I create. I love my stories, truly they are like my kids. So if you like them, too…? It makes my day.

But you are right. Sometimes there is more to tell. And you’ve encouraged me to write a book.

So I’m going to.


In my own way.

nilla-style, as it were. 🙂

I’m in the process of writing the backstory for Michael and Shae of UnderDom. I have created a new blog, a daughter blog to this one. So far, I have a few chapters up. I hope you give it a read and let me know what you think of it. I’ll keep working at the story until I think it’s all done. And you’ll have the full “novella”…for free.

Coz the idea of publishing terrifies me. Sorry, that’s just how I am. And I’m a huge fan of free porn, mostly coz I was never in a position until very recently to purchase any. My funds were all joint and I didn’t want my s/o to know what I was buying fer goshsakes. 🙂 That’s how this blog came into being in the first place. I guess it’s kind of like my “mission statement” … “Good Porn, Free” … so there you have it.

Oh, you will see the link in my sidebar.. “nilla novella’s”… I hope you like it! If not? C’est la vie, right?

Well you all, the time change from Standard Time to Daylight Savings Time is totally kicking my ass, so nilla is off to bed. Takes me a few days to get the hang of losing that hour. And it’s been a hella busy weekend. (Hopefully by the time you read this, I’ll be working my way towards adjusting…!)

Happy Half-nekkid Thursday, pervie readers!



 it takes a hit of pain,

(my drug of choice)

to make me cum

to remind me that I am a slut and

a craven woman who likes to be hurt,

the painslut

He knows me  to be…

So sometimes

~the bite of the pins is enough

      to bring me to sweet, blissful release.

Hasn’t He trained me well?


Oh, My!


Lookit what my writing friend Will Crimson found for me on the interwebs… now I want one. LOL! Isn’t it charming? It sends creepy yet erotic shivers right up my spine…

It’s a doorstop, of all things.

You may remember that Will has my absolute favorite-of-all-time Tentacles series…if you’ve never read it, I highly recommend all of the series. Let’s see if I can find you a link…ah…here you go… 🙂

Will has several chapters to this story, so do yourself a favor, have your best vibe nearby, curl up and get comfy, and read them all at once…guaranteed, once you try one of His tentacle stories on …you’ll be hooked (yeah, pun intended)…!


Another “oh my”…….?  While YOU are sitting and reading me here, *I* am sitting or laying or standing…being beat, fucked, head-to-the-wall, and other various and sundry tortures.

Like “piggie tickling”.

Like whallops with the fucking pink hairbrush.

Funny aside here…I got myself a *new* hairbrush. It was time. But *Master* loves the old hairbrush, so I’ve put it into my bag for work, where I wear my hair up. That way I have it accessible for brushing out, right? We met at Starbucks a week ago…remember the story of His “new best friend” that I wasn’t quite sure *who* he was?

Well, I forget why now, but I was pawing through my work tote while Master was talking to the guy…and I pulled out my pink brush, and a few other things…and then stuffed everything back in.

On MLK night, He and I were talking. He was NOT in a good mood, and I was cheering Him up, some, and then out of the blue He asks me why I had my pink brush with me.

“You saw that?” I said, astonished. I was certain that 100% of His attention had been focused on his “best buddy”…. yet obviously not.

The Man is simply amazing that way.

“Of course I saw it…” He says, almost exasperated. “That brush and I have a cosmic connection, nilla.”

I snort, then giggle.

“Of course You do,” I mutter around giggles.

“He is my favorite, and after all, nilla, you introduced us…”

Yeah. Right. My (stupid) innocent bad.


Oh my (gawd)!


There is yet another “Oh My”…sometime today (I think, or maybe Monday?)….and …. maybe it will be YOU who did it to me…

My blog will surpass 400,000 hits!


So…. thank you…it’s truly awesome to watch those numbers go up and up…You did that…coming here, reading what I have to say, commenting…all of you have been part of this journey with me…some a long time, some new…but whomever you are…thank you. I am truly blessed to have such a loyal and horny fan-base! 🙂


Saturday evening on my drive home from work, I was talking to the Man. Well, He was talking, I was listening. A bit of banter, a bit of whining…oh, okay, a LOT of whining.

You see, I’ve been on worse than O-restriction this last week. I had one orgasm, Tuesday. Feels like a lifetime ago.

And rather than just leave me feeling sexually “dead”, He decided to leave me sexually aware.

Very aware.

Half-way-there orgasms suck. You get almost to the brink of explosion…and pull back and stop.

It’s torture. It’s arousing. It’s incredibly frustrating.

It leaves one feeling constantly needy, constantly wanton.

Constantly wet.

He loves it, LOVES doing this to me.

Tonight (Saturday as I write this) He ramps it up even more, and ever so casually.

So tonight when you’re having your two half-o’s….

“Wha–wha–wat?? MASTER? Wha-th-huh?”

He laughs, the brute, and then continues.

Why nilla, you’re all flustered. Yes, you lucky slut you get two half o’s tonight! Six minutes apart. Have one, rest, then the next at the 6 minute mark.

He doesn’t even tell me not to fuck it up, no “oops”…because He knows I won’t. I’ve texted him after ever fucking torture session, each one worse than the last.


And you’d best be aware of the time, slut. This needs to be done by 10. I’ll watch for your text. I won’t read it…just the time stamp.

At 10, If you are not done, you’ll need to give me a third half-orgasm.

Oh, and full chicklet outfit…including the ass plug. Capiche?

I repeat.


Well…it’s ten past nine already. I desperately need to get my ass upstairs and get to it. Adios mi amigo’s…(do continue reading however, as I’ve written this post all during the past week, just so you’d have some titillating (? really?? Seriously, my life just isn’t that titillating — no, it’s not —  really! But you all are curious so, …well….I try to accommodate!)


My vanilla week was kind of crappy…no one could go out in the cold and burn off energy – ergo child wars that erupted over the least things… sigh…an angsty teen, monotonous chores…just everything seemed blah.

But it’s midweek as I write this now, and I’m trying to remember what it feels like to be with Him. Behind closed doors with Him. What it feels like to have His fist in my hair in a place where no one can see Him push me across the room with it, or bend me over His knee. Where no one is there to witness Him slapping my cheek, or pinching me, or putting clamps on my nipples.

What does that feel like, again?

At home, I can put the pegs on so that they cause pain–but I control it. Too tight? Oh, move it here. Too loose? Oh, just fix it there. Sure I’ll do it to the best of my ability…and there are many nights that I’ve sat with tears in my eyes as that fucking chicklet outfit hangs down between my legs, weights pulling my nipples to the floor (or so it seems) because it hurts so much, because I swear my tits are on fire from the searing pain of it.

But for Him to do it means His way. Too far up the nipple so it bites a ton? Too frikkin bad, slut.

Oh, don’t want my finger in your asshole?

Suck it up sunshine. They’re His holes and He will do as He chooses.


My choices are not merely mitigated, but abrogated. Gone. *poof* dust in the wind. My choice is to go into that room with Him, and remember what it feels like to be a fully submissive pain slut.

Is there dread?

Maybe a little. The oh-my-gawd stinging, deep pain of that fucking pink hairbrush is a remembered pain. It takes my breath away. It leaves one hell of a mark. It hurts. 

It sure as fuck-all hurts.

Mr. Belt might show up…and if he does, it will be after FPH has thwapped me a bit…so rather than being a lovely stingy pain…it will hurt like holy fuck-all.

Who knows what else will happen? Not me. Not even  Him, I would bet. He’s had a shit week, a really shit week…and while He wouldn’t make me bear the full brunt of it…I’m sure I’ll get some of it.

That pleases me, btw.

To be His tool of release? Yeah, there’s a pleasure for me in that.

In the end, I’ll be bruised, and achy, and sore, and tired, and well-fucked and orgasmed out…until then, a long rest-of-the-week of partial orgasms lays ahead…(if I had any doubt the Man was a sadist…He has well and truly laid that to rest!)

So as you sit with your Sunday coffee, that week of partial o’s lays behind me, and He lays ahead of me.

What a lovely “Oh, My!”  that is to anticipate.

nilla the none

So there I am, minding my own little nilla business. Doing my Sunday morning stuff. Having a breakfast ‘date’ with my BFF, and then running an errand and scoring on some Christmas markdowns (75 % off! woot!)…and then I see a text from Master has come in.

Now, He’s sent me a lovely morning greeting already.

Good morning nilla-it’s playoff Sunday- and your future O’s are tied into the game.

I’m not sure exactly what I’d texted back since I stupidly deleted my texts (my out box fills up SO fast!)…but it was something like, “oh if the Pat’s score, nilla scores?”

He is a notorious sports junky. And we’re both rabid Patriot fans. So I was pretty confident that the Pat’s would win over Houston today. (Which they did.)

no my silly slut; Houston has to win for you to see/feel another O prior to 1/27.

I read that twice.




Think of it this way-you’re giving up a personal pleasure to support a Pat’s win.

Again, I’m not quite getting it. He’s not really saying what I *think* He is saying….is He?

And I ask.

You’re going to be one horny slut if they win- and if they lose, how could you think of pleasuring yourself when all others around you are severely depressed?

Son of a bitch.

He did mean what  I thought He meant.

There was no typo in the text.

My team wins, and I’m *jubilant*…and I also lose.

My team loses…and I’ll be depressed and not feeling like orgasms….

Can I tell you  how extremely pleased with this conundrum my Master is? He is patting Himself on the back so hard He might just throw out his shoulder.

Tonight, on the phone (Well, Sunday night, sorry, I keep forgetting you won’t be reading this until Monday!) He was thrilled. Happy, light, ebullient, even. He laughed. He made jokes. He …. He has scored major Dom points…and He could not be happier.

The Patriots won, and move ever closer to the Superbowl. And His somewhat moody slut has been resoundingly put in her place…A Win-Win for Master….He has taken to calling me “nilla the nun”…which I corrected.

“no, Master…really? i’m nilla the n-0-n-e.”

He laughed.

Yes, nilla, you are correct. That’s the “none” with a big NO O in the middle of it, of course.

And He laughs, imagining how the next two orgasm-less weeks will be on me. Verrrrrry difficult. Verrrry horny. Verrrrry needy. I’m not sure I’m gonna make it, 13 days until I see Him for playday, THIRTEEN 0-LESS DAYS!

Of course, I’m going to be hell to manage on the 27th… 🙂

We’ll just keep that between us sluts for now, eh?

Orgasm Denied!

I’ve been busy. Flat out busy. Wildly busy. I’ve not responded to comments in two days (and I’m so sorry…I *hate* doing that to you…you took the time to write to me…and I will respond, I promise), nor have I written anything new here until now. (the joys of auto-publishing!) And it is so late at night now, and I must be up early to head out for my work-away-from-home day.

But I couldn’t go to bed without just a wee “hey there”…hey there!

Hurricane Sandy brushed by us lightly – we were without power for 12 hours, but no damage. We got more rain the next day than during the actual “hurricane” event. Figuring that I’d lose power sooner rather than later, I took on another home renovation project which is nearing completion.

I figured out tonight why I’ve been *driving* myself to finish this. I’ve painted the room 3 times, primer and two coats of color, with a paintbrush because the roller was leaving unsatisfactory results. Painting in sections because there was no place to move all the furniture to all at once, AND decluttering the space, rearranging things and generally making a HUGE mess.

The end product is already stunning. A dark room is now pleasant and light and will help my mood during those darkest of winter months.

But why the dogged drive to get the room done in 4 days?

I can’t cum.

Well…that’s not true. I could certainly cum! The truth of the matter is that Master has put the brakes on orgasms for this week…

The first day was okay. The second day challenging. Today was hell. He didn’t even communicate with me much, which was fine, we were both busy …. but I realized that the hard hard work was exhausting me. Then I’d go out to do my evening job, and come home totally beat. Fall into bed and into sleep fast.

Work has taken the place of orgasms.

Ha. Not really. But it has helped me  get through not having them. It’s only one more day before I get to see Him, and we play…and I’ve begged Him…BEGGED Him, multiple times for an O. I’ve even admitted to Him that if He hurt me, even the tiniest bit, I’d cum.

He laughs.

“Oh, this is good.”

He doesn’t usually like when I beg.

But He sure likes knowing I’m desperate.


Real Life Stuff

So many thoughts to process…

First, i guess, is the incredible joy, the euphoria, of being #26 on the Best Bloggers list…make no mistake, ya’ll…i write for me, to soothe my beasts, to keep me….well, from exploding, i guess. Your comments have been food for me, feeding me, encouraging me, and i appreciate every single one of them (and i am woefully behind on replying to everyone from the last few days…hopefully as you read this i will have completed that…)…but to be publicly noted like that was truly …well it blew my little pervy mind!

Second…the boost from that little surprise, and the gentle boot of my Masters foot up my ass has jolted me from a bit of “down” this week. i’ve been fighting this bug that everyone here has had~my 7 year old has pneumonia as a result of it, a big worry for me as he is not a “robust” child.

(reaches over for a slug of tea, wtf? who drank that…?)

and last week M and i didn’t manage to hook up for FNF…nor for our Sunday face time…and (caution, whine ahead) it’s been soooo long since we’ve had behind-closed-doors time. September 18th we had a short playtime here….our last full-day together was in August. That is a terrible amount of time to go, frankly, not getting beat, nor fucked by the Man.

And the lack of play, and not feeling 100%, and vanilla-life stresses and commitments…

made nilla an unsexual girl. Sit down before you read the next part. It’s pretty shocking. *nods*

ready? sure?

i asked M to take away my O’s, (yes, you read that correctly. Take them    a  w  a  y….)

put me on ZNN, until we meet again (hopefully next week) for our playtime.

His response was both tender, and Domly.  And He made me laugh and feel better.

“nilla,” sez He…”no one would be a worse nun than you….”


It was the perfect start to a conversation that ultimately lifted me fully up out of my black hole. And he ordered me to have an O. *smiles

added to all the stuff that had me down,  i broke my favorite vibe, and it’s only been a few months and geeze that pissed me off.

$59 for a vibe that was *divine* …and now it only works when i clench my pussy muscles very hard. Yeah, that would bet the *same* pussy muscles that broke the fuckin’ thing to begin with.

i hear all the guys reading this snickering and going ‘yeah, so this is a bad thing?’…but the ladies will get it..

i hope.

so i’ve ordered two new vibes (i am getting my first rabbit vibe, ever, coz it was such a great price (from $60 to $18? hell yeah!), and one that plugs in because the cost (and disposal) of batteries sucks.

Thankfully, Master has carefully pulled me along His dark path, and when He gave me that O, He ordered me to masturbate to a certain fantasy…He laid out the basics, and then i was to “flesh it out”…masturbate, and then retell Him the fantasy. The whole fantasy…talk about laying yourself bare.

and i dunno if He’ll let me publish it or not. Well, theres two of them, really, as i had to repeat the scene last night, but make it different somehow. In a while i will write that one as well.

And i’m writing a novel.

Yeah. heh. go figure. i’m maybe almost half-way through, a bit behind the pace set by NaNoWriMo, but i was saved from crashing and burning by Donna, who reminded me that i already write daily, which is a discipline that other new writers need to work on…and since i’m writing a blog (or sometimes two) post a day, and the novel…don’t sweat it.

crisis resolved. and hey….i don’t have to stop writing on 11/30 when NaNoWriMo ends! duh. i know, it’s obvious, right? Anyway, it’s going pretty good, and my two reviewers are enjoying it. Will keep you all posted about that.

And i still have leaves to rake, and i’m tired from not sleeping well. And Master is revelling in my ZNN status, and giving me some tasks to attend to, keeping me focused on serving Him.

i love that.

i’ve been nominated by several people for the VBA award…serene, and butterfly and vixen.. and i am always honored when someone taps me and says “you affected/effected me”….but …

i don’t think i read 7 blogs a day…i read two a day loyally, and catch up on 3 or 4 others weekly…that’s really all i can fit into my time. i want to read more, i really do…but there just aren’t enough hours in my day.

So i cannot nominate anyone (all of you have already been nominated)…and you all know way more than  7 things about me, right? What could i add?

i mean, i told ya’ll about my weird baby toes, and how ticklish i am. You know i color my hair, and i make most of my food from scratch. Ya’ll know i’m a slut, that i love my Master, and that this year has been one of intense struggles, changes, and growth in my D/s relationships.

And ya’ll know i write to keep my head from going sploidy….who could ask for anything more?


One last thing before i leave you to your day…Master’s gift arrived today. You remember the pic from the other day? Didn’t that look like a sweet little crop?





That thing…omg. I told M that it had arrived here, and i’ll be sure to get it to him for his birthday….in 2012.

He laughed that hot, evil laugh of His.

nilla, you fail to realize one key point here. That crop is no longer yours…it is Mine. You are merely the holder, and bringer of the toy.

It is MINE.

So don’t fuck up and forget it, got it?

What can i say to that other than…”yes Master?”

Stay tuned…nilla’s heart-cropped ass will be on display at some point in the not far distant future…coz my ass is, after all,  Master’s toy, too!




Torment of the Denied.

Thursday continued the trend of the last week, certainly of the last 5, easily summed up in one word…


i had thought that my piecework was all done, but the ongoing challenge in being their #1 worker, the “go-to” girl…is that i often get phone calls saying they need me to finish this or that job. And i had thought i was “done”….but the phone rang and there was nilla, herding kids into the car and heading out again.

And it’s good money; who turns down work in this economy, right? And i’ve taken on a third part-time job, and am learning the ropes on that one. And. Wow.

Didja read aisha’s post today? It’s all about stress and work and letting go and breathing…and finding that elusive quiet place.

And i think about trying but don’t see how because i’m so fucking busy for every moment of the day. But my wifes tv show sent me to bed early (nilla does not like vampires, despite liking being bitten!) and i used that time to do some reading i needed to do, some emailing i needed to do.

And i had time to just be in a little peace bubble. Yes, i was doing something, but a task i *wanted* to do, as well as needed to attend to.

So, you’re looking at the title and going “so nilla, what the fuck does all this angst have to do with the title?”

Ha. See, i’m circling around to it. Thursday, as you may remember is ZNN Day (Zero, Nada, Nyet–no touching, no playing, nothing!). And for whatever reason, despite an incredibly full work week, life week–despite an intensely explosive orgasm on Tuesday AND Wednesday…i was horny as hell all day.

Can’t explain it. Last week when i was so tired, i was not horny all that much (well, normal horny, i guess?? i know, wtf is “normal horny”…).

Tuesday night i had a huge pair of O’s danced to His tune (He set up the parameters…clamps on nipples, teasing the clit for so long, even to the speed on the now famous Dildo Dan…). That first O came fast, and the second, at His insistence on increasing DD’s power, came even harder (squirting everywhere) than the first one.

Wednesday was an exact repeat, but yanno? Our bodies are wired so the same stimulus doesn’t always have the same results. Everything was the same, clamps, vibe speed, everything.

Once more the first O was fast. Not squirty, but not far from it either. Then ramping DD up to full power, i got squirmy, and al-most there…..and it faded away.


and i kept fucking and working it, and it was getting closer.

and closer.

and yes…almost there….

and fade.


Are you KIDDING me?

i am mad now, and gritting my teeth. Coz the one difference was that i HAD to have this 2nd o done by 9:59 pm (His way to get me to bed early!). Yet i had plenty of time, making my way upstairs by just past 9, and going right to bed.

But not to sleep, mind you!

So there i am, gritting my teeth and working like a fury trying to cum. And i’m teasing, and tweaking and pulling my nipple chain and squirming.

But i just couldn’t get up the fucking hill to the other side.

But there was no fucking way i was giving up the fight.

Now it’s a matter of pride. Of perseverance.  Of guts, for glory.

Okay that last bit might be too much…but not by much!! I was fighting tooth and nail (gee, can i get any more metaphors stashed into one blogpost??!!) for this danged orgasm, and my pussy was not going to win.

Or …was going to win?


It finally happened. The just-right combo of sensation, of clenching, of timing…i was dripping sweat, my hand was cramping, i was so tired. So tired.

And i came and it was GINORMOUS.


It was almost life altering. I howled, i keened, i’m amazed no one called 911 for the woman making all that noise. Nor did it disturb wife and kids.

When i could see again (who knew you really go blind?? *giggle*), i dialed Master. I couldn’t see all that good and had no idea what time it was.

I still sounded like i’d been running laps, and He asked me if i had called Him to pant in His ear like a winded something. I don’t remember what unflattering thing He said, but it made me laugh.

And i don’t recall stopping laughing for however long i spoke to Him. And i don’t recall the entire rest of the conversation. Total blank. He told me later He could tell i was high on cumming.

And thank God for ZNN, since it was more than obvious that i needed it, after tormenting myself that way.

45 minutes it took me to reach that second cum. Three quarters of an hour, laboring for satiation. Talk about a greedy slut, eh? But i didn’t give up!

Last night was terrible hard for me. So horny, so needy. Sometimes on ZNN, especially when i am tired and it’s late, i get a bit dry. Not last night. i was soaked. Dripping. Incredibly turned on.

So i called Him. Maybe i wheedled a bit for an O.

(right, as if that would help)


And He began teasing me. Tormenting me.

well, little girl, if you are that wet, then be sure, absolutely sure, that you don’t think about your throbbing, wet pussy. Don’t think about My cock pushing in and out of there, gosh, that would be terribly arousing.

So don’t think of that.

And I’d be sure to put Dildo Dan out of your thoughts, too, slut. All that humming against your clit, like last night? Gee, nilla, the thought of that could almost make you spontaneously combust or something!

So don’t think of that.

And whatever you do, don’t think of my mouth on your pussy. Oh, gawd, don’t think of how hard I suck your clit, how my tongue stabs into your hole, tasting your juices.

That would be *awful* nilla. Don’t think of that at all, okay?

And i’m squirming and writhing, and moaning. His voice is like liquid silk…husky and sexy and such a damned turn on. i can feel ‘pussy honey’ streaming from me, and i moan at Him, making Him chuckle.

And He goes on. It goes on for quite a while. Until i’m ready to cum from His voice.

And then He says

beddie bye for the little girl. phone off, and go to sleep.

As. If.

Is it any wonder i dreamed about sex all. night. long? Dream after dream about sex. And woke up just as horny, if not hornier, than i went to bed.

He’s a sneaky Dom, my Master. All i can say is thank gawd tonight is Friday Night Fuck!

(yes, You’re reading this a day late…!)

sub drop soup? mebbe -or- mebbe not…

*big sigh*

subdrop anyone?  Remember? i wrote that i’d not had subdrop? that Master is maintaining me so well, so intensely?

yes, and yet, here i am, all droopy and sad and blah-

i didn’t sleep well at all last night, and not for long enough the night before so perhaps just being tired is the root of this.

big time bummin’ here.

The sun shines, the bits of snow (in the front yard i see from the window as i write this) disappearing …*deep sigh*  and i’m just not in my happy place.

So i open my email…and gawd…HOW does He know? We have this…connection…i know when He’s texted, He knows when i’m laughing…i dunno, hard to explain here without sounding hokey, so just–suspend disbelief and roll with it, k?

We’re connected somehow.

So this is what He wrote me this morning, after i’d confessed to Him (two days ago) that even happy as i am, i am prone to moments of intense depression:

“take a deep breath and flash to me holding you tight leaving one of my “Dedicated Nilla” bite/bruise marks on your lovely shoulder – only to be licked and nurtured by me so I can bite you again. Or think of the erotic pain when I grab your ass cheek like it’s a loaf of bread and the message that goes with it – “you’re not going anywhere little girl; Master owns you and has to claim his property – again.”

“…The message here is that I believe you have enough ammo to fight off any depressive moments that try to occupy your mind. I don’t like nor will I accept the thought of you being depressed – and we’ll work on it together.”

Wow. Just ….wow. Even as i was sliding into subdrop, feeling blue and a bit melancholy, He wrote that to me…and yanno? It helped.

Just re-reading it, and dropping in the salient quotes here? Has given me back some of the “lightness of being” i feel being with Him.

i am so fucking lucky.


And we talked on the phone last night while He was driving and He set me to my corner time while He could hear me whimper with clamps on my very sore nipples (sore from His hands the day before) and butt plug in place (trying not to laugh as His funnah’s so the fucking thing wouldn’t pop out) (oooh, that made me smile just writing that)…Master kept trying to make me giggle. To laugh.  He was trying His earnest best to give me the guffawing giggles so that effing plug would pop out.

(You were too, Master, i know it, You know it…)

It’s a small tapered plug and pops out alarmingly easily when standing. (You don’t hear me asking for a bigger one however) And i got to have two orgasms last night…as long as i could hold the plug in.

Damned if He didn’t make me chuckle. Then giggle. Then a small laugh.


But, i held that effing plug  in.

Meanwhile, my left nipple was on fire. NO. really. FYYYYRRREE. Gawd it fucking hurt so good/bad/good. The right one hurt but for whatever reason the left one was double out-chie. Maybe even triple ouchie. (i love saying that aloud…out-cheeeee..and yes, it does make me wet to say it.)

So here i was, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Laugh, and disable the pain in my tit, (coz for whatever reason, when He makes me laugh crazy silly? i feel no pain) and perchance pop out the b’lug (oh, see what i typo’d there? butt plug as a conjunction. *That’s* a keeper!) and lose one of my orgasms?

Or try to stifle the hilarity that kept rising up, suffer the pain in my nipples and get my double “O”….

Oh, a conundrum of epic proportions.


You’d not believe how long it’s taken me to write this post. Usually i can bang them out (an oldie but goodie pun there–sex blog, bangin’ ’em out!) in under an hour but today? Not so much. In the last 2.5 hours i’ve gone and picked up my van (finally, all tuned up, and two new tires to boot!), swept my front sidewalk (yay!), found my run-away dog (the scoundrel!), and discovered i have to work this evening.  Now showered, and clean…wait…me? clean? whoa. okay, my body is scrubbed and sweetly scented, my hair is hanging in tousled wet curls (why won’t they stay when my hair dries?) and my mind is dirty as ever.

Lucky you.

And any potential subdrop is gone, down the street with the drek from the side-walk, out into the atmosphere, evaporated under the strong March sunshine, washed down the drain with my b.o.


Like it never even happened.

Thank You Master. For throwing out my “sub-drop soup” and finding my rainbow at the bottom….and …..

…for those TWO  Orgasms last night!