By now, I would have been fucked in the ass.

Fucked in the ass, and the mouth, and the cunt.

There would be huge bruises on my tits, on my ass.

Welts. Oh, yes, there would be welts, too.

Sitting would hurt.

My pussy would throb. Because He does love to make me cum. And cum. And cum…until I’m whimpering and moaning and asking for no more, no more…but still He does it again, mouth or fingers or toys, making me cum, making me dizzy, making my pussy turn red and swollen, a hot, aching fire of awesome pain and sublime satiation.

My arms would hurt. Sore from His pinches, sore from being contained, cuffed to my thighs or over my head, when I jerk and twist and try to break free to stop what He is doing (fat chance, but still those herky jerky movements come).

His hand would be sore, from the strict over the knee spanking that He loves to deliver, that I love to get, even if I do wind up squirming and whimpering well before He’s done.

My toes would throb, sore from the 6.5″ heels I wear with Him, standing with my nose to the wall while He sneaks up and beats where ever He wants. Thighs, calves, arms, back, ass–all are here just waiting to fall victim to His toys.

My legs would be stressed from being spread so wide as He fucks me. Ankles up on His shoulders, or splayed wide as I’m facedown on the bed’s corner while He slides things in my ass to stretch me before His cock fills me.

My nipples would be stretched and sensitive. The clamps hurt when He throws me onto the bed, belly first. They rub and twist and ache, and yet I cum, cum hard when He does it. His mouth, sucking and biting and tormenting them afterwards, as He feasts on the prepared bits of my breasts. They are swollen, too, aching and arching for Him, no matter how hard He hurts them. And I cum, as He sucks on them, even before His fingers reach down, and slam into my cunt and demand more.

If only.


*cough cough cough cough*

A Wee Bit of This-n-That…

Thanks for the lovely comments on the last two posts…I am trying to get caught up on back responses…you know how I hate when I fall that far behind. But I love all the great Dr. Strangeguy comments…the story just kind of fell into my head when I was driving the family back from an outing. Yeah, I know, weird. And it wasn’t even the grocery store!

Today was a typical Saturday, no sofia to break up my workweek…and I’ve been missing her. She is so sweet. But today it was back to reality, so off I went to work. Master took forever to text me His morning greeting…we have a cardinal rule that we each MUST text the other at LEAST in the morning and evening. HE will tell you that I text 188 more times during the day (I don’t really), and he responds to two of them. (He does, really.) So in my oh-so-submissive-way (insert snort sound here), I texted him (again) asking if He was still alive, and if HE violated our standing rule, did that give me 9-seconds free-attack on His nipples?

To which He replied to leave His fucking nipples alone.

(works, every time. hehehe)

It was uncertain if He could meet me after work. I told Him it was okay (truly, pulling up those “big girl panties” and dealing can be hard at times) since He had given sofia and I three hours last weekend.

But He texted me back and said He’d meet me! I couldn’t stay long, but gosh, that wee touch is so important. I left, beaming. He followed me out to the car and kissed me, and tickled me. He loves to make me giggle.

“You’re such a silly slut,” He smiles, shaking His head. These times with Him are every bit as precious as the times behind closed doors when He is tender, and direct, and pain-giving. They sustain me. The memory will linger with me through the week, making me smile even when my children are driving me up the frigging wall…

I’ll remember the great sweetness of His smile, His “faux” gruff voice, the feel of His hand holding mine, and everything will snap back into “good” again.

Here’s hoping that your today will be full of “good” moments, too!

Nattering on…

Wow, is life pulling you guys the way it is me? It’s CRAZY. Here I thought I’d have tons of time to write to you all who’ve left a week’s plus worth of comments and it turns out that, in my fevered state, when rescheduling an appointment for my kiddo…I bumped it to Thursday THIS week, not next. Whoops. Good thing they called to remind me!! And that shot more than half of Thursday for me.

Added to that I’ve got contractors at my home, and a big gardening project (finally) started, and it was so fucking hot today that I thought I’d fallen into Hell, which is amusing considering I don’t even believe in Hell!

Now, ordinarily, I can take a wee bit of heat. Okay, that is a bald-faced lie. I HATE it when it gets hot, especially when you add humidity to it. I’m a round gal, and I’m well insulated. 🙂  But in the northeast, heating up is usually a gradual thing. Take for instance, Sunday last. It was cold here. Never got out of the 40’s. Admittedly I had a fever so I was bundled up, but EVERYONE broke out their fleeces or flannels. It was raw and chilly and wet and blecch. And in parts of Vermont (about an hour from me) and northern New Hampshire? They got anywhere from 3-7.5 inches of snow. *blinks* Enough so that it shut down Santa’s Village.

I know, irony.

But the problem is all the trees are leafed out, and the wind was howling so hard that many limbs came down on rides, which of course made it unsafe for kids to be there (and for rides to even function–not many takers on a log-flume ride with a ginormous *splash* at the end when it’s 38 degrees outside!). And that, along with 4 inches of snow on the ground. Not ideal, to be sure. At least, not for Memorial Day weekend!

So we go from having heat on, bundled up and shivering, to dressing as close to nekkid as we can, drinking sports drinks and ice water, tepid showers and fans everywhere (no a/c in my old house…we rarely need it!) It’s part of the allure of living here. Really.

Geeze, get me talking about the weather and I go all off topic. What was I talking about?

Oh, just “time”. It’s running past at such an alarming rate. Good things are happening, to be sure. And summer is busy and fun and even though there are LOTS of obligations…most of them are the fun kind. And this weekend will be the start of June.  My gawd. That means that NEXT Sunday…the week after THIS Sunday, is Master-time.


How the fuck did that happen so fast? Wasn’t I *just* whining saying that it was going to be forever until we had play time? And it’s NEXT WEEK???

Oops, and I just sent Him a text that said “I’m half-mad at You.”

Maybe my timing is a bit off, at that.

But He’s been busy (I hope) and not answering my texts. Including the one I sent announcing my “mad”….and He’ll just let it slide in that way He does, which both annoys and astonishes me. He knows me SO fucking well that He knows I’ll boil down by morning. And I’m not SUPER mad, I just wanted…

and isn’t that the crux right there?


just wanted.

And really, it’s NOT all about ME.

Shocking I know.

I’d like to imagine it is. Maybe pretend. But just to be clear? In our version of D/s…He wins most of the time, and He gives me what I want.

And more importantly? He gives me exactly what I *need*…which isn’t always the same as what I *think* I want.

He knows when to ignore me, and when to poke me and when to soothe. He’s been very, very good to me this week while I was sick.  *hangs head*


Maybe it’s time for me to pay that back a bit.

*pauses to text an apology to Master*

And just like that it will be over and done between us over my little snit. He’s not the type of Master who will hold it over my head, or make me pay the next time we meet. He might *tweek* me about it later. But the quick apology is a step in the right direction. 🙂


Speaking of stepping, tomorrow/today when you read this/ I find out if my broken ankle is healed and if I can officially take off my ‘damned boot’…that thing makes me sound like a storm trooper when I walk in it (I don’t actually mind that, btw! Sometimes I even make the Darth Vader Breath sound. 🙂 ) But if I forget to wear a sneaker on the other foot? And kick the good ankle with it in that klutzy way I have?

Bruises and an ache that lasts for hours! Ha me, there I go attempting to fracture the *good* ankle with the boot meant to heal the *bad* one. *laughs* Yeah, I’m that good of a klutz.

Okay, Master has sent me to bed and away I go. Be well, pervies, and I promise that there will be some *real* juicy stuff back up here soon.


An O in the Bank

Hey peeps…(waves weakly from my bed)…

It’s been a rough 4 days or so, with my uncontrollable gut running roughshod over my body. I’m starting to get hunger twinges, and holding my drinks down, so I think I’m mending at last. I’m done, too, pouting about my lost long weekend. I can’t change it so I have to roll with it (this is Master’s philosophy, He’s very Zen though HE doesn’t see it. 🙂  He’s not into organized religion.)

Today I got to spend the day in the guest room on the first floor to keep an eye out on my kiddo’s, a change of scenery that was nice. A bit more up and down time, too. Now it’s Like Day evening (Tuesday) and I’m back in my room and ready for bed. Of course I need to talk to my Master, and we chat about this and that. He asks after my healing, admonishes me to take care of myself (I am, I really am), and before the conversation moves on, I jump in.

“Master….I’m clearly in no shape to have an O despite it being my O Day…do you think you would allow me to bank this one?”

His standard policy is “use it or lose it…” so I’m going out on a limb here.

There is a soft silence on the other end of the phone, and a brief “hmmm”.

“You’re right nilla, you’re NOT in any shape for an orgasm yet. Okay. I’ll allow that O deposit into the bank. Sure. There may come an opportunity for it in the future and it isn’t fair for you to lose it due to being this ill.”

There is a pause, and I jump into it headfirst.

“Thank you Master! Oh, thank you so much!”

“Of course,” He continues as if I hadn’t spoken, His voice soft and musing, “I hold the key to the bank.”

That draws me up short.

“And I’m less possible to get around than Wells Fargo. Yes, nilla, I’ll hold your O in my bank. We’ll work out the terms for withdrawal when the situation applies.”

There’s a smile in His voice, I hear it through the phone. My mouth opens, closes, no words come out. He laughs, soft and so sexily.

Just like that, He’s got me again.



So, get your cuppa (coffee, tea, confection of juice blenders, whatever), and let’s chat a bit, eh? I’m leanin’ on you today. Today was gonna be the day, you know? Lotsa fucking around, being beaten, kissing and being with my Master.


You know, I’ve been down this road before. Usually it’s fucking mother nature (sorry mother nature–but you know you’ve been a bitch to me sometimes) who dumps 20 inches of snow, or throws up a hurricane to bollux plans.

This time, it was Master’s family. His kids are grown, and he is unattached…except for this one persistent slut who keeps hanging around him (yes, me!).  But his daughter had surgery this week unbeknownst to him. She needs her daddy to be there for her this weekend, as she is still very much recovering; much sleeping, no lifting of things etcetera–all the things that happen post-surgery. She can’t be alone, and everyone in the extended family (mom, brother, friend) have helped out–and Dad got the weekend.

It is what it fucking is, right?

*takes a deep drink of tea*


Here I am, with an open runaway day and no Master to play with. He told me as soon as he knew this might be a possibility, the day of her surgery (he found out when his son let it be known that she was having a hard time coming out of the anesthesia which freaked him out, understandably enough), and since then he’s been trying to get updates as to when his “tour of duty” would occur. He did let them know he’d had plans, but we both agree that our families must come first.


So–I’m miserable company today.  Be glad you’re not sitting beside me right now. 🙂 I’d alternate between telling you how His eyes sparkle when He’s fucking with me, and how fucking annoying He can be sometimes.

And I’d likely moan a little more than a wee bit, about not having had a playday in a while and yanno, it’s gonna be fuckin’ forever before we get another chance for one; unless He is free on Memorial Day weekend at some point, it’ll be mid-June. And it’s not even HIS fault–my family obligations peak in May. If I recall correctly, HE has obligations on that holiday weekend, so really I think it will be 7 weeks before another play time can be attempted.


We did get a tiny bit of face time Saturday night after work. It wasn’t a long time, less than 30 minutes, but gosh His eyes DO gleam and sparkle when He fucks with me.

And despite being –okay–annoyed with the upset in our plans (not AT Him, just at circumstances) I remember, when I see Him.

I remember His magnetism.

He is charming. He is mean. He is devilish. He is SUCH  a Dom.  He’s sexy, and He lights me up. There’s just this energy between us that is palpable. He tickles me and sneak-pinches me, so that I have a quarter-sized bruise on my arm. He pours a little bit of His magical elixir into me– pain and love and giggles- and it goes into the empty place where I was lonely and annoyed and needy. It’s a bandaid, but you know what happens under a bandaid, right?

You heal.

I heal.

And after the keen-edge of disappointment is blunted, I’ll go on through my busy May, happily (lustily, needily)looking forward to June and being with the one who hurts me so fine.

Thanks for coming by and having tea with me. I feel better having talked this all out with you.  I’m going to go off and have a hike, the weather is fine, and heading towards wonderful. You enjoy your Sunday, too.