If It’s Tuesday, It Must Be Real…

Some people call this TMI Tuesday, but I don’t answer a set of proscribed questions so it’ s just real nilla day today!

I had every intention of writing. You know…something steamy and sexy and sensual and arousing.

But…

Mom Nature called; she had other plans for me! It was 82* here, sunny and HOT! It was a day to go through my closet, my dresser, and take away things I absolutely won’t wear again; we’re poised (as I write this) on the edge of the Vernal Equinox, and I just can’t see myself wearing my favorite fuzzy sweater again this season,  yanno?

Today was spent washing winter bedding and throwing everything on the clothes line to dry in the abundant sun, and in watching my kids ride their bikes and scooters, and making lemonade, clearing cobwebs, both mental and physical, from my house.

Tomorrow I will be ready, I think, to write. (Gosh, give a woman a week off to be sick and what does she do once she’s recovered? Fritter her writing time away on mundane chores???)

My great green goddess! What a greedy slut!

*grin*

I did do some “housework” here too…..if this is the first time you’ve come here since my spring “make-over” for Vanillamom, what do you think? I’ve chosen a different format, one that I hope is a bit easier to read and navigate. Do let me know what you feel…good and/or bad. Master will check it out and give me His feelings on the upgrade. . . but I welcome all thoughts.

How I adore that Man! You know he relented and gave me an orgasm Sunday night after all…I earned that, coincidentally, because we’d made a bet. He didn’t recall seeing my O report from Friday, yet I clearly remembered writing it. Trouble was,  had I actually sent it? He challenged me – if I stood by my claim that I had indeed sent it and he had just missed seeing it, and it really was in his “In” box…I would get a Sunday night O.

However.

If I was mistaken, and took the bet, and lost….I would forfeit ALL my O’s, even on our special day of the week when I always get a special message and at least one O. Giving up that O would be HUGE. Losing a week’s worth of O’s is always difficult….but I was really 99.99% certain that I had sent that report to Him.

I agreed to His terms.

And then after hanging up (I was driving to the City to get the teen)…I was in a mental quandary…Had I sent it? I was so medicine-fogged on Saturday…I didn’t remember what time of day I had sent it, although I remembered clearly telling him my thoughts about the glass dildo, which I got to use for the first time.

I got to church and pulled out my phone and logged into my email and YES! There it was. I’d not used the caption “O Report” like I usually do, I’d labeled it “So, Master….”

PHEW!

What a relief. And that is  how nilla bagged her Sunday Orgasm!

Of course, with our big D’s…nothing comes without a price. When I got home, He texted me.

oh, by the way, little girl…When you finally have that O…I want your electric vibe on your clit.

And.

I want you to climb the mountain 4 times before you come. Understood?

Four times.

FOUR times? He’s never made me climb the mountain four times before falling over. And the clit thing. Gods He loves to torture my poor clit. I was already very horny. Spent the day being horny after that epic Starbucks experience. When I touched my clit with my finger? Hard and swollen and sensitive….and this was *before* the fucking vibe.

However.

He did NOT mention at what speed to put the thing on, so I settled for 75% power… that’s enough zing to make it torturous…but not so bad that it is incredibly painful. And it’s not so low that if He asks later …. that he’ll think I lowballed it, and took advantage of his good nature.

I texted back an “okay Master,” finished working on my Sunday at Starbucks post, and sent that to Him for approval. Once approved, I set it up on the blog, and got busy with that “assignment.”

Now, four times up Fuck Mountain may not seem like that hard of an assignment, but trust me…I was so horny that I booted from “base camp” to the rocky edge in minutes….only to have to pull away the vibe and back my ass away before I fell over.

I lay, gasping, panting, heart racing.

I wanted, needed, to cum so badly. My whole body quivered with suppressed need. Eventually it calmed, and back to work I went…and in minutes was right back up there.

Master has trained me pretty well to get to three and LEAP out into the abyss of orgasm…

So stopping there had a certain…well…sadistic… twist.

It was so fucking hard to stop. And then to start again? My arm was tired from the vibe. My other arm was tired from fucking.

Stop laughing…they were very tired arms.

(I hear you giggling–this is serious stuff here (I know -who am I kidding, right?))

Anyway.

My body just kinda stopped.

There I was, vibing and fucking and all of a sudden,  my pussy went “HUH?”

“What, you think I’m fucking nuts? You’ve already pulled the football away three times, Lucy, and I’m not fucking Charlie Brown here. No. Not gonna fall for it…”

And she turns away.

From close to the top of the hill, I slid down a scree slope to about half-way down. What the fuck? There’s nothing for it than to turn the vibe up a wee notch. I can’t let it get to full power coz that will just send me into orbit, and naked astronauts don’t do so well up in space.

Besides….it would fucking hurt. My nipples were already screaming. I’d pegged them with two clothes pins each (He wanted pain, lots of pain, to go with this scene) and occasionally the throb from them would drown out the throb in my clit.

Turning up the vibe seemed to convince my pussy that I was serious about going up that hill once again. I could feel her distrust…her whine about getting there being too hard…blah blah…and then suddenly the heat just enveloped me…

I was right there.

Right fucking there…and I mashed down on my clit, and fucked with the vibe and when I came it was like breaking into atoms….

Wow, what a fucking fucking AMAZING rush that was.

Clit throbbing like it had been beaten (and well, it was kinda)

And my nipples screaming…and my lungs gasping for air…and my heart racing…..it was a wet wet wet orgasm, and I lay there, trembling for quite a few minutes, sweaty and with a tsunami of pussy honey leaking from me.

And when it was done, rather than being sleepy? I was turbo-charged. Yeah, it was one of those kind of O’s….

So I sent Master a sext.

And He replied.

And I sent another.

And it went back and forth like we were teenagers…until 1230 a.m. when He finally put His foot down and sent me to bed.

Tonight we talked as he drove home from a late meeting.

He gave me another orgasm tonight…but with another set of conditions…vibe on the clit. Four treks up the mountain. And that fucking vibe has to be set at 75% for the first three trips.

And.

(He pauses for effect here. I go nuts. In my head I’m going “andandandand fucking WHAT????” and He know’s I’m doing that, and yet he lets it goes on, that silence, that fucking “and” hanging there…baiting me…. and finally I can’t hold it back, it slips out and I say (in a begging voice)….)

And, Master? And?

He laughs. That rich and wicked, sinful laugh that I love.

For that last trip up the mountain, little girl….the vibe goes up to 100%.

I gasp. “Oh Master…that’s going to kill  me….so much torture!! OMG…Master….”

And he laughs again, and asks me if I know what the best part of that is. I think to myself…”not dying”….but say “no, Master.”

On all those other treks up the mountain? You’ll be thinking and fretting about the last one.

He knows me, knows me inside and out. Of course I’ll be thinking about that!  I may have whimpered, then.

And He laughs that wicked Sadist’s laugh once more.

Master!

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

Only one, mind you.

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

This was so kewl!

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

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

gods, just writing that gives me happy shivers!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deep breath. Another. And then…dreamspinning…

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

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

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

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

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

In other words, it was fuckin’ awesome!

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

I woke up in the morning, refreshed, and clearer of mind and much less sad. i read all of your comments and felt better that this …this nebulous network ..no not nebulous…this..invisible network? yes, better….was there, reaching out and patting me, and consoling me…and i thank you all for that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But last Monday morning?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Penelope?”

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

Behind the Door

The sound is wet and syrupy.

She blushes as His hand glides between those sodden folds, as His finger probes experimentally into the hidden hole. Pushing in, all the way and pulling out, the sound is wet and syrupy again.

Her face is pressed against His throat, certainly He feels the heat of her cheeks.  Her ass is pressed against the back of the door, feeling the cold from outside pressing in on her heated flesh.

The harsh rasping breathing she hears comes from her own throat. Raw, ragged, like a runner struggling for the last yards of the race; her heart is beating at that same ragged pace.

Wet sounds  squelch up from between her parted thighs. Her toes curl inside the shoes, her nipples harden and press against His leather jacket. The zipper runs between her tits, coiled teeth scraping at her flesh as His hand moves up and down, working her flesh.

His fingers jab up into the soft wetness, curling, beckoning  her body to come.

The sound is wet and syrupy as she obeys.

Perchance (pt 1)

He hated being alone. He liked the feeling of a woman in his life. The scents, the sounds, the textures. The sex. Oh, yeah, the sex. He moved through the scene these days, picking up a woman here and there, but no one really meshed. No one stayed. No one was “in it” except for the fast thrill, the adrenaline of a good lashing, the hot glow of a well spanked ass. Oh, he was good at what he did, damned good. But an occasional beating here and there was not satisfying on a deeper level.

Yet, here he was, driving to yet another Group event. New Years Eve at a bondage club was certainly more enticing than, say, heading down to Times Square. He knew he’d have fun with his friends, and taj would expect a beating. She always expected a beating. She spread herself around, generously, to the guys who came stag. And she was a delicious subbie. Just, not his. Who would’ve thought he’d be looking at exclusivity at this point in the game. He wanted his own subbie. His wife wasn’t in the picture, nor in the lifestyle. She preferred Jamaica and Rubierto. What the fuck kind of name was Rubierto anyway. Dickhead. Now that was a name. Suited the guy, too. Mr. Armani Suit Dickhead at your service. He chuckled.  Turned his car into the parking lot and prepared to pretend to have fun, at least until the fun kicked in.

She was pulled into the room by her friend Taj. They’d met forever ago. And yet she’d never felt compelled to explore Taj’s lifestyle…that walk on the dark side, until recently. Until Rubierto had dumped her for some older woman. She sighed. The jerk. Jerk-o.

“Stop that!” Taj commanded her brusquely.

“What?”  she asked, slapping on a polite smile as she was herded past a Mistress in the tightest black leather corset she’d ever seen a woman squeezed into. Her tits were…enormous and sat poised atop the cups like .. well, she couldn’t even think of a metaphor that fit that one. And she, a writer, even.

“You’re thinking about that dickhead Rubierto again, and he does NOT belong here.” Taj spun around, face to face–almost nose to nose.

“That no-good sonofabitch fucked you over. Move on, kiddo. You’re worth 20 of that fucked up dickhead. Trust me, tonight will change your life.”

Well, on that one point she would agree. She’d never, ever seen some of the things she’d already seen and that was just heading to the bar. She gave her order to the bartender. He lifted a brow in a somewhat condescending way when she ordered her ginger ale. She stared back. He winked, then passed her the glass of bubbling ale. Phew. One down, how many more encounters to go. This was the strangest thing she had ever done. At least it could prove to be good story fodder, she mused…when her brain shut off.

He walked into the club. Music flowed out into the crisp night air as the door opened, and a deep throbbing base accompanied the twinkling of stars in the dark sky. Crossing the room, he met taj halfway. Grabbed her hair from the back and pulled her into him for a hard kiss. She giggled, smiling up at him.

“I’m so glad you came, Sir! Listen, i brought a friend with me tonight. her first time. if you have a moment to spare, Sir, would you come and meet her?”

He smiled down at the diminutive woman. She was pretty, feisty, and a good sex companion.  What the hell, he owed her. Laying his hand on her rounded shoulder, he bent into her back and  nibbled her earlobe.

“lead on” he murmured against her ear. He could feel her shiver of delight. Her ears were extremely sensitive. She’d probably orgasm right now if he blew a bit into it. So he did. She stopped moving forward. Tilted her head to allow him greater access. He bit into her lobe again, then swirled his tongue in her outer canal. He felt the shudder run through her, the low moan that came from deep inside of her. Slipping his finger down her spine, around the sweet curve of her asscrack, he felt the wetness dripping from her. Hmm, a honey of  a subbie, to be sure.

taj turned to him, smiled. “That was a hell of a hello, Sir! Thank you, Sir. Will you come now?”

“Maybe later,” he said with a smile. He laughed as she pouted,

“Oh, you mean come with you to meet your friend? oh, I thought you were offering me a blowjob, pretty subbie.” She batted her eyes at him. Then laughed and led him to the bar.

She could not believe her eyes. Had that man just…just fingered taj? Nibbling her ear and …she was certain that taj had just had an O! in public! Geeze…was that…pussy juice on taj’s thighs? And why was she looking at taj anyway? She looked down, smoothing the camisole top she wore. Fidgeted with her skirt. Checked her mile high heels that Taj had insisted she wear tonight. Fishnet thigh highs? Ah well, best to blend in, she mused.

He looked at taj’s friend as they approached the bar. She certainly looked like an uncomfortable outsider. Well, except for the ‘nets and heels. Hmmm, his personal favorite. He glanced at taj. He would not put it beyond her to have set this up as some kind of …blind date. Perish the thought. This woman was as vanilla as they came. How the hell had taj persuaded her to come to a BD/sm club on New Years Eve?

…and He’s So Good!

She lay in his bed. A stranger. An intimate stranger. They’d met 3 hours ago, in the mall. She’d offered to sew on the button he was in a stew about, they’d had words about her intent and now, here she was, bound to the four corners of his bed.

After the searing kiss he’d laid on her, she thought her knees had melted. She’d waited 50 years for something like this. He didn’t care that she was older, that she was not “model-esque” either in height or physical beauty. He liked her spirit, he said. When they went for coffee she discovered that he was a “Dom”….how strange was that? She’d been fantasizing about a Dom/sub relationship for years, but had never known how to get there. She thought of that old Maine saying “ya caint get theyah from he-ah”…it so described her life to this point. Who knew that offering to stitch a button on a shirt would bring her to her ultimate fantasy…and fulfill it.

 Oh, she hoped she’d be fulfilled!   He’d tied her here forever ago, it seemed. Then, left.  Time stood still when you could not see. There were no dancing shadows in this dark nothingness, nor clock, simply no way to judge how long she had lain there, wanting. Saying nothing. She’d read how Dom’s liked to do this to their subs, how it increased their needyness. How it illustrated to the subbie that their Dom was in full control mode. Amazingly, she thought her cunt was wet! There was some fear, some trepidation. He was a stranger. Maybe he would carve her up and …Her eyes were bound shut,  but her senses were already attenuated to him. She felt the fine hairs on her arms lift, sensing his approach.

A  large, warm hand touched her at the base of her throat.

“I can see your pulse increasing, little one. Are you afraid?”   He watched her nod,  obedient to his command for silence.  His hand slid down her body, circling her large soft breasts. Withdrew. A sharp slap against the side of her left tit caused her to arch her back and gasp at the sudden sensation. Again he slid his hand downward. Circling her belly button, he saw her biting her lip to maintain silence. He could feel the twitching of giggles inside of her belly. He reached out with his other hand and pinched her right nipple, hard. She gasped again. The twin sensations, tickling and pain confused her. Although he did not see the rush of liquid, he smelled the warm wet scent of cunt. Again he withdrew his hands. He climbed onto the bed between her sprawled legs. Slid his palms under her ass cheeks and raised her hips a bit. Gazed at her slit. Watched the slow trail of liquid oozing from between puffy lips. Looked for the hidden, pulsing clit. Sliding his hands away from her plump and appealing ass, he reached forward, pulling her cuntlips apart, pinching them lightly. There he looked deeply into the valley of woman. Saw the streaming river run deeper, saw the deep auburn tones as flesh engorged with  heated blood. Like a skydiver plunging to earth, he dove into the soft wet folds and feasted. She writhed, moaned, a she beast in full heat. Her hips danced on the bed as much as she was able. The ropes held her tightly, and his hands pinned her further, but still she undulated her cunt to his mouth. When he bit her clit, she went crazy, her orgasm explosive.

He watched her cunt clench and ooze.  He looked up from between her legs,  as her long red hair whipped back and forth across her face. Her head was tossing about in her lust-filled frenzy, her mouth open, and low moans coming from her. He watched her as he thrust his fingers deeply into her fuck hole. Her body arched into a beautiful bow, tits bouncing, her bound arms taut, her heels pressed deeply into the mattress.

“Yell for me, slut!” he commanded as he wildly finger fucked her. His cock was a throbbing ache between his legs. At her ululating cry he withdrew his rampaging fingers, and slammed his hard hot cock as deeply as he could. She screamed, then, a steady stream of “yes, oh yes! Yesyesyes…oh SIR ohmygodSIR YESSSSSS” accompanied his every deep thrust into her.

“Do.You. Like. It.Hard.Cunt?” he asked, each word accompanied by a mercilessly hard stroke. Her wetness made a squelchy sound that made him push her for more. More strokes, more wetness. Another keening orgasm. He held back. Grabbing her nipples, he twisted them, pinched them. He felt, rather than heard, her moan of pain as their bellies met on the instroke.

He bent his head and sucked one engorged nipple and as much breast as he could get into his mouth.  Sucked, bit down with his back teeth, felt her writhing beneath him. His other hand found her clit, pulling and scraping the sensitive nubbin until he felt her cunt convulsing around his cock. He could not take any more and with a final bite, he buried his face between her tits and erupted inside of her.

Later, untied from his wraps, but tangled in his arms, she nuzzled into his neck, lightly kissing his throat. She felt  His quiet ‘mmmmm’  through her lips. She pulled away, looked up at him, her blue eyes dancing.

“What, little one?” he asked, wondering what was coming next.

She dropped her gaze, hiding her smile.   “Wel-llllll,” she drawled out, tracing a design on his chest with her finger.

“Yes-sssss” he drawled back, amused.

“I was just wondering…..” a long pause. He waited her out. She glanced up at him, down at his stirring cock. Traced her finger along its length, making it twitch.

“…wondering…how many other  buttons you need fixed?” 

He barked out a laugh! Oh, she was a treasure all right!

He bit her neck, none to gently. Muttered against her flesh that was captured between his teeth. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard him say ‘hundreds…”

 

Shop Til You Drop…

He had pushed her headfirst into the shopping carriage. They were parked on the less travelled side of the grocery store, but still visable to any of the more adventurous shoppers who like them, were out so late, in the drizzle and gloom.

They had been out of milk, out of tea and coffee, and he was out of patience for her not getting this chore done while he was off helping a client sort out their latest pc disaster. When he had returned home several hours later, she was still in front of her computer. Due to her naked state, and the scent of arousal when he walked into the bedroom, he knew she’d been masturbating there, and had never gotten dressed, headed to the grocery store, and started dinner. So it was a tired, hungry, and angry Master who ordered his cuntwhore (a name he used only when he was  angry with her) to dress. He threw the outfit at her, a brief crop top, and short skirt, along with 3 inch heels. Not an outfit one would normally wear to buy milk in, but it was a punishment of humiliation and an exercise in obeying that he was instilling.

On the drive to the store, she was silent, sulking. As he pulled into the last parking space on the side, she looked at  him, silently wondering why he’d parked way the hell over here, rather than taking a spot right out front, since there were many available.

“You stole an orgasm from me.” It was a flat statement, not a question, and she flushed, and looked away.

“Right.” he said, then gestured her out of the car. In the store he took every opportunity to embarrass her. He loudly pointed out a pair of cantalopes that he said reminded him of her breasts, to the amusement of the young teen stocking nearby. Master waggled his eyebrows at the boy, who blushed. Master brought her over to the youth, who may have been all of 17. Let him stare. Smiled, then smacking her on her ass, told her to

“get a move on, there’s better things I want to do tonight rather than look at cantalope!” His leer let the boy know just what things those were, and Master chuckled to see the bulge bump out the front of the lad’s chino’s.

He rubbed her ass as she bent over to get the pretzels he wanted. Only the ones that were on the bottom shelf would do, which caused her to  flash her naked cheeks at an elder gentleman who was turning into  the isle.  “Turn in, turn on,” her  Master chuckled again. Master was certain that fellow would be sporting a woodie tonight, too.

As she reached up high for the cereal he liked, he grabbed under her upraised arm, holding it in place, then he leaned into her  and licked her cleavage.  She blushed deeply, although she could not see anyone, facing the racks of cereal as she was, she was certain he was ‘performing’ for yet another unsuspecting shopper. Her nipples rose as he gently blew on the flesh he had just dampened, and were clearly visable through the thin top. She looked him in the eye and whispered, “stop, please?” He just smiled at her and made a large “O” with his mouth. This then, was her punishment for “stealing’ an orgasm from him. She’d been on orgasm denial for 2 days now and gawd she’d needed to cum. He’d been unreachable by phone, refusing to take her call while he was with his client, so she had made an executive decision and “O’d” while watching porn on the internet. Big. Mistake.

Finally they made it to the checkout. Twenty items and it had taken the best part of an hour to traverse the store. The older fellow was right behind them, no doubt hoping to catch another glimpse of her ass. Master noted this, and as she leaned forward to unload the groceries, turned to wink at the fellow, and gently pulled the back of  her skirt up, flashing him another glance of her sweet round asscheeks. There was even a sheen of moisture on her inner thighs. Despite what she may say with her mouth, her body was hot for this kind of humiliation. He smiled.

They wheeled the carriage to their car, and unloaded the bags into the trunk. Once the cart was empty, he pushed it a short distance away, then closed the trunk of the car while grabbing her arm with his other hand. Pulling her forward, he firmly shoved her over the front of the carriage, pushing her head down to the bottom of the cart, exposing her lovely ass. She felt her skirt hiked up to her waist, and then his cock at the entrance of her dripping cunt hole. He fucked her wildly, rudely, loudly. He told her to cum, and she did. He kept pumping, and began torturing her clit, flicking, pulling, squeezing it, forcing her to cum again, then again. Finally he poured his seed inside her. Using the wetness between her thighs, he lubed three fingers and plunged them up her ass. She screamed, tried to rise up, but he pressed her back with his free hand, then used that hand to work her clit again.

“Can’t…” she moaned…”five times already, can’t…cum….”

But she did. And again. Finally, when she was limp, he pulled her from the cart, guided her into the car where he’d put a towel earlier. Locking the seat belt around her, his face in hers, he smiled.

“Two security cams on this side of the building hon. You’re gonna be a porn star at the grocer’s tonight!”