Gym 6

it‘s been a bit since I last worked on this. You can scroll back to reread, or use this link here to refresh your memory! ~nilla~

She had to be dreaming. This wasn’t really happening to her- not to boring, mundane Ellie, was it?

Wet underpants between her legs informed of the reality. Dammit, she’d just cum! In her work clothes. In her boss’s office. She stood frozen, transfixed by a man whose fingers were firmly pinching her nipple. The same man who had tormented the same nipple yesterday. Who had tied her up physically, and certainly, mentally.

“Ohmygawd,” she moaned, suddenly remembering that she was not alone with this pervert. Turning her head she saw Daniel sitting with a stupid smile on his fucking handsome face. That black mane of hair had fallen over his forehead, but for once he wasn’t running his hands through it. Rather, he was holding a pen with two hands, stroking it lightly as he watched the scene playing out before him. In his own office. She watched his fingers moving up and down the smooth surface of the pen, and she knew without a doubt that the action was a poor substitute for stroking something very different.

Look away, she told herself. She was not going to think about her bosses cock. It was enough to think about the long, strong fingers that had captured her breast, her overly sensitive nipple. She pulled her gaze from Daniel, focusing on the tall, shapely form standing in front of her, her eyes slipping down the firm chest, to strong, denim clad legs. The dark sneakers he wore reminded her of her earlier gaffe. She was not going to think about HIS big feet, and maybe big…no!

Holy shit, Daniel had watched her shudder through an orgasm–standing right there in his office, for fucks sake!–while her nipple was touched! More than touched. Tortured. It was then that she realized Mr. Perv was still holding it.

“Stop!” she gasped, pushing him away with both hands on his chest. He didn’t move an inch, but his hand released her aching bud. She felt her face turn red, her body flush with heat, felt the thick throb in her nipple, the matching beat in her clit. Both were keeping time with her racing heart. The ache to be fucked had returned, ten times as intense as it had been yesterday when he had tied her up.

The chair squeaked as Daniel moved. She couldn’t bear to look at him.

“Perhaps it’s time for a more formal introduction.”

Dropping the pen, Daniel rose smoothly from behind his desk, moving to stand beside the pair locked in seeming stasis as they stared at one another.

“Ellie, I’d like to introduce you to Dane, my business partner, who is also know as Sir, or Dom in the playroom.”

“Dane, this is our secretary, Ellie Diamond.”

He paused for a moment, looking at each of them.

“Although you have already met one another on a whole other level, and I can see that there’s still a great deal to be sorted out, I’d like you both to take a step back and sit, while we work things out here.”

His words hung in the air between the three of them.

“Fuck that,” Dane spoke in a near growl, before hooking his arm around Ellie.

“Come,” he said.

Daniel watched as Dane pulled an unresisting Ellie out of the office, and into the playroom. Damn if things weren’t about to become very interesting, and a whole lot more complicated, he thought.

Gym ~5

Ignoring the alarm clock would do nothing to forestall Monday. With great reluctance, she slid from her bed, and plodded to the shower. Under the warm spray, she rubbed soap onto her body, pinching her nipples as she’d dreamed about someone doing, all fucking night long.

“I’ll only do one for now.”

His voice echoed in her head. The threat, the promise, intertwined with pain and lust. She’d masturbated over and over again last night, coming harder and harder until she’d squirted all over her bed.

Getting up and changing her sheets at 1 a.m. hadn’t made it any easier to get up.

Her pussy was tender now, the throb a blend of the surreal fantasy of yesterdays torture, and last nights use. She rubbed soap between her thighs with vigor, leaning against the shower wall as she fingered her clit and nipple. The sudden gush from her cunt surprised her, making her knees tremble.

What the fuck had he done to her?


Shutting and locking her car door, Ellie leaned against it for a moment. She hadn’t said anything about yesterday to Maggie when they’d done the car switcharoo yesterday. She, who told Mags everything, could not even figure out how to begin to explain this. Hell, she couldn’t explain it to herself, let alone anyone else.

Should she quit? Gods, but the money was great. And she had to take some personal responsibility for disobeying her boss, for coming in when she wasn’t supposed to. Now she knew why – but serioiusly, who would have ever thought that there’d be a BDSM party at a gym?

She reached for the door, but before she could unlock it, Daniel opened it, startling her.


“Actually, I’m surprised, and pleased, that you’re here.”

Locking the door behind her, he flipped the sign to Closed.

“Family emergency,” he said, before pointing to the back offices. “Let’s go back here and wait for Dane.”

She swallowed the rise of nerves. She had no idea how to deal with this. None. Should she stay? Should she quit? Should she…

“Sit. Coffee?”

“uh…uhm. No, no coffee.”

“Ellie, you have nothing to be nervous about. It’s Dane and I who are worried. What you went through yesterday was a mistake. It was ..”

“I’ve had six orgasms since yesterday.”

They stared at one another. How the fuck had that come out of her mouth?

“How interesting,” came a voice from behind her. A voice she recognized instantly.

“Ohmygawd it was YOU!”

She jumped from the chair and whirled around. Framed in the doorway was a man who was not at all what she expected. The voice was deep and sensual, but the face did not at all reveal…the monster? No…the pervert.

“You touched me.”

“And for that I’ll apologize, since we did not have an understanding between us. I mistook you for another, a submissive who had been sent to me for correction.”


“Submissive. A person-male, female, they, who want to be dominated-usually sexually, but sometimes in lifestyle choices, by a Top, or Dominant.

“Yes…I understand that. AND I get that I made a huge mistake in coming here when I was told not to…”

“But?” He asked, sensing she was not done.

Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked at him, then down at his feet.

“My gawd you have big feet…” her voice trailed off, as that urban myth gobsmacked her into silence. She looked up at him, mortified by her wildly out of control mouth.

One eyebrow raised. One corner of his mouth raised.

“Curious?” His voice was silky, all soft, sexy, slick. She knew he was teasing her but she felt hot and cold shivers all over her body. Surly that was why her nipples were suddenly engorged. She couldn’t look at him anymore, and dropped her eyes. He continued.

“You did have all those orgasms following our mishap.”

Her eyes flashed up, then down. Dammit! She could feel the blush stain her cheeks pink, could feel too, his deep amusement. And dammit, could feel the heat building between her thighs.

“Stop…’re doing that on purpose!” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on his third button.

Daniel rested in his chair, amused. This was taking a direction far and away from what he’d anticipated when he woke up this morning. He’d dreamed of lawyers and lawsuits, million dollar payouts. This? No way in hell. Still, Dane had a way.

“I’m not doing anything. But I’m glad you are feeling.”


He smiled.

Gods she wanted to melt into a puddle. He wasn’t her type. Not even close. Oh, he was slick and self-assured, and he was attractive. But…. He was older than she was used to, with grey hair mixed liberally through the brown. He had a way of looking at a person. His eyes were piercing, intense. Like he could see inside of her. She wasn’t sure if she was afraid of what he saw…or of what he made her feel.

“Those orgasms you mentioned. Tell me…how did you enjoy them?”

He took a step closer to her, until his toes nearly touched hers, until she could feel the heat from him. He leaned closer, whispering in her ear.

“Did you think about my tying you up so that you couldn’t move? Did you remember the way that my hands touched your tits?”

She flinched at the naughty word. And yet it was so fucking hot, that he just said “tits” in a matter-of-fact way like that. Tits.

“Or did you touch your nipple like my clamp did? A tight bite of pain to awaken your clit?”

A shiver ran up her spine.

“Tell me you hated it. Tell me to go away and leave you the fuck alone, if this is not what you want. Tell me that you hate me and never want to be near any of this dirty, sexy, hot, wet, throbbing scene again. Tell me, and I’ll go, and you can do your job from 9-5 and go back to living your regular vanilla life.”

He paused, then. Her eyes were closed but her breath had thickened in her chest. Her clit did throb. Her mouth was pooled with spit, and she swallowed hard. When his fingers pinched her nipple, she moaned.

“I….I want…” she breathed out the words softly.

His fingers twisted her nipple hard to the left.

She came, hot juice leaking from her undies, running down her thigh.

Vanilla Suckage

I love the word suckage…it evokes thoughts of cocks, and gagging on them, on the taste of His cum, on the feeling of submission I get when I kneel at his feet, sucking on Him.

This is not that kind of suckage, however.

No, this is a brief “AAARRGH” as my vanilla life has sucked so much of the wanton out of me. Sometimes, it’s really, really hard to remember that I AM a slut. That I AM a lover of pain, and powerless orgasms. That I need my well to be filled, even as he drains me. I need to be renewed as His slut, and I need it soon.

We were supposed to meet earlier this month for playtime, but being ill, then several serious snowstorms all put the end to those plans. (He actually lost power for close to a week, though we did not. He got lots of wind, we got lots of snow. It sucked for both of us…again, not the good kind of suckage!)

Now we’re hoping that we can work out the time to be together in April. Easter, and birthdays, and life will try to muck things up, but if we both stay healthy, we might, maybe, possibly be able to eke out some time together for Him to beat me. (Just re-reading that makes me smile. Seriously, are we pain sluts fucked up or what?)

As much as I need to be beaten and fucked brainless, He needs to beat, to fuck, as well. Sometimes I forget that Dominants need that release every bit as much as we submissives do. Maybe it’s because they’re all quiet and stalwart about it, and can compartmentalize it better than subs can? I dunno, that’s my personal theory, anyway.

So, I’ll be writing off my frustrations tomorrow….my day off –at LAST;  last week my “day off”  got suborned and I’ve really been feeling the need for some down time, because as much as you all have been wanting to read chapters, I’ve been dying to write them!

I’m not slipping off quietly into that vanilla night. Nope, I’m grabbing my submission and pulling it up from my toes where it’s been tamped down and making those plans and more importanly, keeping them. As He said to me this morning,

you are mostly a pain slut who hasn’t had any selective pain in quite some time.

So true.

Painfully needy for pain…how’s that for an oxymoron?


“Put That Leg Down!!”

I want to tell you every detail. I want to hold it all close to me and keep it private. Such is the quandary of a sex blogger! We have a good fucking time and want to brag about share it, yet it is also SUCH an intense experience that sharing it seems too personal, too private. 

Yet this IS what I do. (You know, since I hadn’t had much inspiration for writing fiction lately!) So here’s another snapshot of our time together. 

I was blindfolded. I have a love hate relationship with it, that blindfold. I want to see what’s coming at me…yet I love the “fear-turn-on” of not knowing. He taps my thighs, my calves with the fucking cane. I sincerely hate that fucking thing. Yet when it hits my tits?  It makes me fly…so deep into subspace that I can’t think. And here I was, worried that I couldn’t handle the pain, that I’d “fail”…right. There is no “I can handle it”–That’s just not how this D/s dynamic works.  Rather, it’s “you must take this, slut”.  Such a silly thing for me to worry about (yet worry and fret about it I did…)  Not only did I “take it”…oh now..I took it, and  it was good. And it was right.Aand it was….orgasmic. (That’s the braggy part. Sorry for boorishly bragging. . . . Okay. Not really.) 😀

I even survived that fucking pink brush. Geezuz but I DOUBLE-HATE that thing. Yes, it is even worse than the cane. The pain is…it’s a thin, hot envelope that circles my entire body, then centers deep right where He has just smacked. It throbs. It burns. Hot licks of “fire” swirl around the blow-landing-site. The pain of it steals my breath. It spun me around in a circle as I took that first blow, made a silent “O” of my lips, made Him laugh as I reacted silently but physically to that first blow.

Fucking sadist!

OH, how it hurt.

“Oh, nilla, I know how to help that,” He says…and before I can say no, no…He starts whacking that same spot with the cane. I feel Him bent over behind me, whaling on that same fucking place.




I’m moaning, whimpering. His hand holds me still, not letting me teeter away (blindfolds and 6.5 inch stiletto’s …oh maaan…do not make for a good “getaway” pairing!) from the blows landing one after the other after the other. Short, hard raps against my already screaming flesh.


His hand moves quicker, I can hear the ‘swoosh’ of the cane behind me and start keening.



Finally He lets me go and I stand, quivering and near-to tears.

“That helped, right?”

I shake my head, my hand caressing my butt.

“Oh, stop your whining,’ He says, smacking it with His palm…

*lost in a space-time continuum*

And somehow I’m laying over His lap, my ass already throbbing. He sits on the edge of the bed, palm stroking the hot flesh there. The first slap is gentle, nearly a caress, as are the next few, before the hand gets harder, heavier, thuddier. He hits the same. fucking. place.

Again. Repeat. Until I’m pulled out of my reverie and start to squirm.

My back arches as I cum, even as I cry out against the steady thwacking on my butt.

“Put that fucking leg down,” He barks at me, and I’m shifting in my head between pleasure and pain, and the sudden shocking sound of His voice, stern. He stops spanking and I feel the hard kiss of the cane on my calf.

My head pops up from the bed as I wail. OH! Such a different pain. HURTS! Sharp stings, like a line of wasps across the muscle on the back of my leg.

“I said,” He says, His voice stern and firm, “Put your fucking leg down.”

My toes come in contact with the floor and the cane stops. Once more there is the steady thud of His palm on my ass…



Much later, days later, He explains. I barely remembered the incident, but he mentions it and it floods back…

“So there I am spanking you, nilla, and I see your heel coming up at me. Not that I mind seeing the heels–not by a long shot–but heading for my head? Not so much.”


*silent giggles* 


All’s Busy on the Eastern Front

I’m certainly not inundating your “in box” with lots of posts of late, am I? Between my kids, my gardens and familial responsibilities, it seems my time to be here has been greatly dwindling. But I am working on a wee tale, and needing to work on chapters to stories already begun. . . trying to carve out time this week for a major writing binge. 😀

Master and I are hoping that we can hook up in a few weeks. The maturation of my teen means less treks into the city to get to see one another. Finding time in the summer is a challenge for us both, actually. I know that it will make the time we DO get all the sweeter. You know…when it finally happens and all.

But …

I’m losing my pain mojo. Can one do that?

I  had to bow to the fates yesterday and had to text Him that there was no way I could get away and besides I didn’t want to hold HIM up in His schedule waiting for me (good thing too as I never did get the free time I was hoping for, thanks to an unexpected drop in by good friends). As a reward for that selfless act, He gave me an O.

It was a good O, too. I was going to put it in the bank–I was so tired last night. But I couldn’t drop off the edge into sleep, too keyed up. Having an orgasm after days and days of NOT having one can either be super powerful tsunami…or dud.

Last night was a tsunami…but let me back up a bit.

I took out my toys, arranging them carefully on the bed. I should add in here that my favorite vibe died last Tuesday…I was PISSED as it was only a month old, dang it. I have a Hitachi but I’ve never been able to orgasm with it–it’s just toooooooo powerful and I would have to pull it away because the sensation was overwhelming.

I put a peg on my nipple. Not the pretty one, either, with its tender bite. No, this was one of my OLD clothspins…and the bite on this fucker is only a few steps down from my clamps. And it hurt.

A lot.

A ton.

A MOUNTAIN of hurt.

I’m just that out of practice.

And i had this fleeting thought of “OMG” …how could I stand having a playdate if I couldn’t even take the bite of a fucking clothes pin??

(no answers for that yet, btw)

I tried using my back up vibe–but it wasn’t quite right. I needed more…better…something.

In desperation I reached for the Hitachi, knowing I was likely doomed to disappointment. Instead…this:

20140622_234747a tsnumai…see? It was the most *incredible* orgasm I’ve had except for being with Him.


But the pain thing…yeap…that has me a bit worried. A bit. I’m SURE He will correct my mojo…

(kinda looking forward to that sort of ‘correcting’ yanno?)


Out of My Head

We met. Ate. Talked. Teased. Played with stickers. (He won…tho I did score one on his sternum… 🙂  )

I’m foggy with pain this morning. Thoughts disjointed. Laying low. Throb in my pussy.

(whispering as His hand moves against my pussy again…’nooo…hurts…oh…Master…OHH…!” as I cum, squirting into His hand…)

My ass, throbbing.

(come here nilla. He points to the floor between His legs, then a curving gesture. Up. Over His knees.)

My tits ache.

(mmmm NIPPLES! *sounds of biting and hard sucking*)

My body aches.

(pinches and name that implement and slaps and who knows what else?)

And my heart is filled to overflowing, even as my brain works to process what happened yesterday.

‘sall good, pervie friends.

Slut on Call (4)

His hands stroked over her bottom. Somehow he’d flipped her over, when she had been limp and fight-less after cumming for what felt like hours. The slap of his palm on her flesh made her jump, gurgling out a cry against his pillow.

“Your ass. Sweet.” His hand cupped the round smiles, then a single finger slid from the top of the divide, down, down, and down until the digit rested against her anus. It was clenched tight. He felt the resistance. He slapped her butt again. A slight rise of the hips, a grunt. Another blow, another rise of the bottom against his finger. Hard to tell if it was surprise, or her body so stimulated that all sensation was overwhelming.

He very much enjoyed overwhelming her.

The finger slid further, wetting itself in the slickness that wept from her pussy in a constant river. It twisted into her cunt, rubbing against that spot that no one had ever touched before. Hips rolled as he cajoled another orgasm from her.

While the paroxysms boiled in her blood, he pierced her ass with the slippery digit. Sliding his lubed finger in and out of her butthole, he twisted and wriggled it. She moaned. She whimpered, and while he watched, she spurted even more juice.

She was one horny fucking bitch!


She didn’t know what she was even asking for now. Please stop? or Please never stop? The sensations were overwhelming. Forgotten was her empty stomach. Forgotten was the mail she’d brought to him. Forgotten was everything except for the sensations pouring through her body. Every wiggle pressed him deeper.

And then a second finger joined the first. Her gasp of surprise was expected. As was the deep moan when a third stretched her wide.  He fucked her ass hard then, pressing the three digits palm-deep into her butt, his cock throbbing like a fucking toothache. A steady drool of precum leaked from him, and he knew he had to be inside her now or he’d squirt all over the sexy bottom in front of him.

His fingers slid out to her moan. His cock pressed in, immediately. She stiffened, but her ass had been broached before she could stop him. Lubed by her own cum, and his, he slid balls deep in seconds. Her head fell forward, after rearing back. He took a fistful of hair, pulling it back so he could watch her face as he slid out, then back. Her anus clenched around his shaft, milking him. He breathed shallowly, using every trick he’d ever learned to hold it off. He imagined his feet in ice water, his balls in the ocean, his mom walking into the room.

The firey need to cum boiled through him.

Slamming into her ass, he yanked her hair back, hard, making her spine arch, a beautiful and inviting curve, lifting her buttocks high, inviting his infernal probing of her nether regions. Eyes half-closed, her mouth open, his eyes traced all the round curves of her, cheek, spine, lips, ass, hip. He listen to the raw raggedness of her breathing, exciting him, adding more fuel for his internal fire. He felt her cunt convulsing, knew the slut was cumming.


His balls threatened to explode. The combination of heat and sexual submission, the curves and softness, the strength and wanton arousal…all assaulting his control.


Her scream as she jetted a geyser onto his thighs startled him for a moment, pressing him deep into her butt, his balls saturated by her squirting fluid.

“You fucking whore! You sprayed your cunt-juice on my balls!” He laughed, teeth clenched. No slut had ever done that before.  He needed to cum. She was draining his control one yelp at a time, one powerful orgasm at a time.

“You’ll have to clean that up. Later.”

Twisting his hips, feeling the grab at the base of his cock, her anus sucking on his root, he could hold back no longer. Her hair slid from his grasp as he reached for her hips. He withdrew an inch, then rammed deeper, pulsing and filling her buttpipe with his jism.

With a final pulse, he fell forward, lying atop her back.

“Sweet fucking whore.” His words whispered against the back of her neck. Her hair was sweat-soaked, and clung to the roughness of his beard as he nuzzled there. He wanted to bite, to possess. Instead, he licked, tasting the salty tang of her.

His fingers found her tits, and grabbed them, clutching tightly, as they both fell into a totally depleted slumber.


Today is THE day. You know…500,000 Day. Half a million. As of writing this at 1030 Monday night, there are less than 200 view to go. Who will be lucky 500,000? Exciting day ahead!! *grinning hugely* ~ nilla ~


It didn’t start with that word in the title.

As in all good stories, there is a beginning, a middle, and an end.  And in true nilla fashion, I’m going to start near the end.

You know, because I can.

“Get on your knees.”

His voice was firm, husky.

“You got yours, now I’m going to get mine.”

My bed is low to the ground. I’ve been on my back, on my belly, leaned over the edge of it…and after several wicked and intense orgasms, was more than a little spaced.

Which way was “off the bed” anyway? Blindfolded, I was lost in a darkness of soft velvety feelings. My body was tingling. There’d been a few good solid whacks with my nemesis, and His hands, and pinching and all those O’s…

His hand took my arm, guiding me.

We are, neither of us, young and nubile. The idea of being thrown to the floor that I read about in other’s blogs, of being drug around the floor by His fist in my hair? That is definitely off the table. I won’t say I flopped on my way down, but it was definitely not elegant, either. Sure, He’ll guide me by His hand in my hair, or tug me and shove me against the wall if we’re in a hotel…but…well, as I said, neither of us are spring chickens.

Still, He firmly guides me to the floor. At the start of things, He’d “taken my hands away”… cuffed and fastened to matching cuffs on my thighs…there was no way to use them to get off that damned bed, nor was there help in holding position, nor in touching or stroking Master’s cock. His legs are strong, and warm, and I use them to find my target, crawling around a bit to find the right place. I can only imagine the smile as He sat there and watched me try to find His cock without my hands, using only my head and mouth to ‘feel’ where I was.

He says nothing. A moan, a grunt, a tug of my hair.

A bit later, He begins the joking that I wrote of in yesterday’s post, written as I was still deeply enthralled in euphoria. The predicament bondage of His hands, my tits, His cock.

Jz wrote about men liking the gag thing as we suck, choke, throw up a little (yeah. Just a little. I hate that part–and me with a belly full of Chinese food.) HE seemed to enjoy that as well.

And later, when He came, His juice filling my mouth, the taste and pleasure of making Him cum with just my mouth? Only added to my euphoria. I love cumming, make no mistake. I love when He pleasures/pains me. When He drains my body.

Even more?

I love pleasing Him.

And in that moment we were both totally sated.


Sweet? Did I call my Sadist sweet?

I did.

I know–I did it earlier this week.

And while we’ve not been super-active in the D/s world…today He’s just been delighted to taunt me that I can’t have an O today. I finally, after two weeks, got an O for Tuesday night.

It would have been great except that I was exhausted, stayed up too late, and fell fast asleep. I’m allowed to “bank” these O’s, which I did.

And PROMPTLY used it Wednesday night. A bang. An explosive bang. Still tired, but man, my pussy was doing the Watusi. (It’s a dance. If you’re too young to know it, google it.) A giant squirt, a trembling, shaking slut, totally blown away by the orgasmic force. I think even my eyelashes fainted.

Do you know what happens to a cunt that has been touch deprived for, oh, say two weeks, and then it has a wonderful orgasmic session? It gets stroked and played with and teased and the whole experience is just so damned good–and it quivers with delight for the attention.

And after the explosion?

It stays horny.





That has been the status of my pussy all day today. But Thursday is NO touching day. Only longing for it, only needing it, only wanting it so fucking bad…

Nothing else.

He reminded me right off what day it was–with a Sadistic twist.

you might as well get it through your slut head that you’ll be o-less for the next 40 hours, not just today. too bad for you. happy Me.

That’s a paraphrase, but it’s pretty close to the original. And He was so fucking joyful whenever He texted me. I told Him I was terribly horny.

He grinned back at me.

I told Him I was really, really needy today.

“You’re needy every day. This is really making me happy, though.”

I called Him a Bastard, yet He likes that. He made some other observation about me stamping my foot, or carrying on. Which I wasn’t doing but was close to it.

“This is the best thing that’s happened in My day.”

Didn’t I just write that He was sweet? How quickly I forget the Sadist lurking just underneath the surface, just looking for a way to get to me.

The best part is, of course, that I like it. Even when I don’t. Exactly. Kinda. Sorta.

Aren’t we submissive sluts just the *strangest* of people? Yeah, we are. 🙂

I’ve long ago made my peace with the whole “why do I want Him to deprive me of that which I crave”…I’ve always craved it, that sort of control, and He gets to me perfectly. Keeping me on the edge, keeping me needy, fulfilling both our needs.

That is part of the sweetness, for me at least. That He gives me what I’ve always wanted–to be controlled sexually. To hold my pussy in His hand, well, virtually at least, and be able to close that (metaphoric) hand and say “nope, not tonight. Your pussy is closed.”

It’s what drew me to BDSM in the first place, that someone could/would want to give that much control to another person, especially a person who would also hurt them. You know. Like biting. Or spanking. Or caning. Or pinching. Or paddling.

Pretty much, all the good stuff.

I’ve grown so accustomed to the idea of it that it doesn’t phase me that much, the dichotomy of being deeply cared for, and also beaten. I don’t have to worry about my needs being met because He meets them perfectly. He knows me, from the inside out, it seems.

Sweet, indeed.

Bound for Trouble (a Fireman Story)

She twisted and turned, trying to free her wrists. Her fingers were growing numb from being tied over her head for so long. In the darkness of her closet, her phone blinked on, vibrated her “times up” signal.

For the third time.

Somehow her “fail-safe” had not worked. If a fail safe failed, was it a failure? Her mind twisted the riddle that wasn’t a riddle at all. Maybe she was losing her mind? She shook her head, feeling her long hair sticking  and tickling her back. It was hot in the closet. Her body was hot from the series of orgasms she’d had, and continued to have. The big vibe taped in her pussy rumbled on and on. Too bad she’d put brand new batteries in it before trying this self-bondage thing.

The knot that tied her wrists to the closet bar above her was supposed to be tug-breakable. She’d practiced and practiced before she ever tied it around her wrists. Except that in reality?

It fucking wasn’t tuggable. Breakable. Even remotely release-able.

Her legs throbbed in the 6 inch spike heels, her tits throbbed, wrapped tightly with the heavy elastics she’d affixed there. Her nipples screamed under the pressure of her swollen tits, and the clothes pins biting into them.

She was a fucking mess.

Panic threatened. She lived alone. No one would even look for her until maybe Monday if she didn’t show up at work. It was fucking Friday night, maybe early Saturday. She could not reach her phone, the frigging thing had slid back along the shelf above her when she had tried to turn off her alarm.

She should have been “done” 15 minutes ago–but she wasn’t in danger, her rational mind tried to tell her panicked brain. The closet wasn’t airtight. The sharp cramping of her cunt pushed past logic and fear.

Her right leg rose, drawing tight against her other thigh, and she bore down through the paroxysms of another orgasm. Hanging limply from her wrists, she panted through the aftershocks. The hot wetness coursed down her inner legs, and the sweet scent of pussy juice filled the small space.


How much time had passed?

She was groggy, exhausted from orgasms. Her legs trembled and she began to worry that she would permanently damage her tits. The tears came, hard and fast. Moving in panic, she banged against the upper shelf. Her phone tumbled to the floor, banging her arm and the top of her foot, which is likely what kept it from coming apart when it landed.

“Fuuuuckk” she moaned.

The face of the phone lit up.

“Oh! Gawd! OH!”

Carefully, slowly, gently, she pressed speed-dial with the pencil-thin heel of her shoe. Hopefully Sherry would be home. The phone went right to voice mail. She disconnected, not sure how much charge was left.  The buzzing in her pussy persisted, making her moan and whimper.


That seemed to be her only option.

Wait…she could call Maria. Her neighbor was an early riser, so perhaps she’d be able to help. It would be incredibly embarrassing. But at least she’d be alive.

What was Maria’s number? Had she speed dialed her? Eyes closed, head back, she thought about it for a minute. Maria’s apartment number was 31…perhaps she’d been that logical. She pushed the numbers.

She could hear the ringing. And ringing…and a voice. Too tinny and far away to hear clearly…but a voice of a person!

“Maria! It’s Stacy from next door, in 33! I…I…I’m locked in my closet. It’s embarrassing, but I’m stuck and *ogawd*…please…help me? My keycode is 3963. Please…hurry.”

There was  click and her phone went dark.

Had the full message gotten through? The orgasm slapped into her body, drawing the last of her strength,  leaving her hanging limply by her wrists. Her head hung low, hair plastered to her face, her back with sweat and snot and tears.  Her entire body throbbed, her cunt dripped. The closet stunk of sex.

The door flew open.  She let out  a squeak of surprise, yet the quick burst of fresh air almost made her cry for joy. Yet–it was not Maria who stood there.

It was a man. In the seconds she looked at him, she saw a very muscled, handsomely put together man. When he saw her, his mouth drew into a straight firm line, and his eyes blazed.

“You stupid….”

In moments her hands were free, and he was carrying her over to her bed.

“You could have damaged these…”

His large fingers worked carefully to remove the clothes pins, then the elastics binding her swollen tits.

“This is going to hurt like fuck-all,” he continued. In moments both breasts were free and the pain was excruciating. His hands engulfed her breasts, rubbing and kneading.

She moaned, whimpered, tried to get away. He slapped her hand when she grabbed his wrist.

“Enough, slut. I know what I’m doing here.”

His eyes bored into hers. Her hand fell to her side, drawn up into a tight fist as the embers of pain burned through her. Hurt. Hurt so fucking much.

She might have fainted from the pain. When next she became aware, she was covered lightly with a sheet. Her shoes were off, the bindings on her wrists were gone, her tits, though still sore, no longer felt as though they were going to explode.

She heard noises from the kitchen.

Who was that guy? Where was Maria?

Slowly she rose from the bed. She rummaged in her drawer for a long tee-shirt, then padded out of the bedroom.  He was every bit as large as she remembered. Tall, broad-shouldered, his hands now worked at breaking eggs into a sputtering pan.

“You rescued me and now you cook?”

“You interrupted my breakfast. How do you feel?”

She blushed, remembering that he had seen her tits engorged, the heels–all of it. The look he shot her, as he looked at her flushed face, her lowered eyes, was somewhat amused.

“I’ve seen it all before. Worked in a dungeon after high school. And let me tell you, slut–that is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do to try to get a sex-high.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Maria’s brother. She’s on a cruise, and she asked me to take care of her cats. We got a late call Thursday, and I was wiped out, so I decided to crash at her place. Lucky for you.”

“A late call? What are you?”

“Apparently, I’m the Dom who’s going to teach you a serious lesson about self bondage. No more, slut. Never again. No sex-high is worth dying over. And I’m a fireman. I’m used to putting out fires…and baby? You were burning up.”

It occurred to her that the vibe was no longer in her pussy. Her hand moved involuntarily to her crotch.

He laughed.

“Worry not…I peeled that tape of most carefully.  Cleaned you up. You cum like a New York City fire boat!”

She blushed.

And giggled.

And gasped, as he turned off the eggs, and in a swift move, stepped up to her and grabbed a fistful of hair.

“Never again, slut. Am I clear on this?”

Her pussy did a little ‘omg’ dance, her heart beat fast, and she bit her lip, just like that silly girl in the grey books.  It was hard to nod ‘yes’ with his hand buried in her hair this way.

But she managed it.

And a soft “yes, Sir” sealed the deal.