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

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

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

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

close your eyes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Growling isn’t very meditative.”

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

“Good slut.”

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

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

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

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

“Come here. Crawl.”

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

“Turn around, forehead on the floor.”

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

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

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

“assssss errrrr” She mumbled around the gag.

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

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

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

He stopped.

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

“Turn around.”

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

“You want this?”

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

Gods! How she loved how hard he used her!

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

He pulled out of her mouth.

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

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


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

It was going to be a good day.



nilla rambles…yes, again

So, where is my head tonight as I write? Ah, a funny thing you should ask. I did get some face time with Master after work tonight, which was really nice. We talked, flirted. He pinched me some on my arms, tickled me a bit (why,¬†why am I so fucking ticklish??!!) and it was a nice chance to “touch” one another for the first time since play time.

I told Him of some of the “negative” feedback regarding the HNT pictures, comments which surprised me, frankly. He reminded me that TTWD is a continuum…and though *I*’ve been here for 3.5 years, many readers are “new” to me and to U/us…and haven’t followed the path to where we were, and where we’ve come from, and where we’ve yet to go.

And that helped give me some perspective.

I’m very proud of my bruises, you see. They prove something to me, several somethings. That I am strong. I often feel like I’m not, you know. Because I’m also so very, very needy, which makes me feel…you know…weak.

The bruises prove something else. That He can hurt me with love. Because HE needs it. That we’ve found this connection of yin-yang that pleases us both.

They are beauty marks. Marks of His love for me, written all over my body. The bite marks are especially special…reminders of a ferocious bout of sex and pleasure and pain, a dance of primeval lust. Marks of my love for Him, that I can take this pain, that my body transforms His beast beatings into a lust-fire so intense it’s a wonder we aren’t¬†both¬†consumed by the¬†conflagration.

This blog is not just a place of sexy stories, but also the place where I talk of my journey. It’s the place where I found myself when I first started questioning¬†why.¬†Why did all those “perverted” stories that I’d been reading turn me into a wet puddle of goo as I¬†surreptitiously¬†read them? Why did my heart pound and my pussy ooze when I read of¬†real people. Real women?¬†People who did this…for real?

They called themselves “submissives”. . . but who did that, really? Let themselves be¬†used.¬†“Holes” they were, there to be used however their “owners” wanted. Kaya was my first, soon followed by doubleknot. They were sexual slaves.

I was so far removed from all of that. I was a good girl-a good woman. Sure, I hadn’t had sex with my spouse (a woman) for years. Sure I’d always had feelings towards both men and women. But I was a lesbian. And I was a good girl.


Except…I began to suspect that I wasn’t a good girl. Not in my head. Not between my legs. I tried to “quit” and went a month without reading any of “those” blogs. And found myself curious. Insatiably curious. What if.

What if I wasn’t a “normal” woman, what if I had these submissive feelings for real?

I was a good girl…except for that one, niggling question.

Ah, that “except” has made all the difference, hasn’t it?

I keep that poem by Frost where I can read it every day. The Road Less Traveled. I’ve even posted it here. It is my “touchstone”, or what some might call a defense–for I, I took the road less traveled by-and that has made all the difference.

So–I ask you to not judge my Master, nor I, by my bruises. By His ability…no…His¬†desire to make me, mark me, as His, nor my¬†desire to bear them.¬†¬†I ask you to not judge Him or me, at all, just as you would not want to be judged for how you and your Master/Sir, or slave/sub/girl/boi handle your relationships.

You’ll never know where this journey will take you as you move along…maybe you’re a dabbler and you’ll stop at a few spankings. Maybe you’re adventuresome and will want to pierce, or tattoo or brand your slave. Maybe you’re so enthralled with your Dominant that you’ll do just about anything (barring of course, removal of limbs, having sex with cattle, or harming family members…you know, sensible stuff.)…the point here?

It’s not for me to judge your kink.

Nor is it for you to judge mine.

I’m not going to feel put off by those who think my bruises are extreme, since they please me too much. I just really needed to get this off my chest.

Because bruises of the body? Those I’m happy (and desirous) to bear for Him. Bruises of the spirit caused by naysayers? Nah. Those I’m just going to let those slide on by.


The Best Part…

The best part Sunday was when we were playing my new game, nilla.

I groan a bit, then giggle.

You weren’t giggling so much when I nailed your ass with the “fucking pink brush”, little girl.

“No Master, that’s the truth! I HATE that fucking thing!”

I¬†know!¬†It’s the gift that keeps on giving, nilla. And YOU gave it to me!

I roll my eyes, still disbelieving how very much He loves that fucking thing, after nearly 2 years. You know how people like something for a while, then get tired of it? Like, I had a thing last fall for Greek yogurt. I ate it every day for lunch for a month, then a bit more sporadically as a snack before leaving for work in the afternoon. Now, I’m rarely eating it. I got tired of it.

Not Master.

He finds something he likes and he sticks to it. He loves everything about the damned fucking thing. The gel handle for His comfort while he beats me. The wide paddle of it as it nails my ass to the fucking wall. The *sound* of the impact is like that of rolling thunder. Not a mere “thwack” or “thud” or even “splat”, but a rumbly *BWOP*.

I, on the other hand, can barely make a sound. Only the sudden rushing of indrawn breath lets him know I’m sit alive, as my body arches, my mouth opens, and my fingers claw at the wall.

Speechless with the sudden, shocking, incredible pain.

Ah, nilla, the sound of your silence is so beautiful.

The Bastard laughs.

But this is only the opening salvo in a game that he has come too enjoy immensely. The game is called “Name That Impliment of Ass Destruction” and it’s exactly what it sounds like.

He wacks my ass and I must guess the tool. Once I have my breath back, of course.

Two correct guesses in a row suspends the game…for a while. But before we got there? I’d had orgasms. And foot torture. And pinching of my spare tire which is verrah painful. Egads. Shit. Hellfire. The Man is brutal.

I can always, always guess the pink brush. But he has a few toys that I can’t judge on pain alone. I try to vector the amount of flesh that feels the impact, the depth of the pain, the tingle or burn afterwards, all of which help me judge what the¬†fuck he has just hit me with.

It sounds so logical and¬†analytically clinical, doesn’t it? Except. Yeah. Orgasms. Tickle torture. Pain. All swirled into a cocktail that leaves me totally dazed. I’m already flying, buzzing from the endorphins.

But wait! There’s more!

He adds a new dimension this time. One that fuddles up my data transmissions even more than the miasma already swirling in my brain.

He has this fuckingly brutal (yeah, I’m overusing the word…trust me, it is the only one that fits!) plastic salad fork. It’s not used for beating, but for scratching. He scratches over the welts and bruises and hit-marks with the damned fucking thing, first in one direction, then in another. Until my ass is painfully throbbing, hot, aching, raw-feeling.

And *then* he fucking hits me.

Pain, layered over and under pain. His voice whispers in my ear, his breath moving my hair, the heat and smell of him so fucking appealing. I was shivering, not from cold, but from the beating, and his heat behind me, was so enticing.

what was that, little gir? Hmmmm?

The pain causes fog to rise in my brain, the jungle beat of the pain in my ass so intense that I feel like he can hear it. The heat right *there* where the impact was, so fiery. What the fuck was it? Fucking silver cake thingy? The fucking olive wood spoon I gave him two years ago (that he recently rediscovered in his toy bag)? I have NO idea, so I guess.

His chuckle is rich and greedy-sounding, a person getting exactly what he wants for his present.

hmm hmm hmm…NO! Wrong…

Scratch, scratch, scratch… WHACK!

More chuckles, moans, groans…the game goes on for a long, long, long time.

Left buttock - beaten, scratched, and whacked with the wooden spoon (the round O's that kinda look like hearts, which is total irony!)

Left buttock -beaten, scratched, and whacked with the wooden spoon (the round O’s that kinda look like hearts, which is total irony!)

When it’s done, he pushes me hard, backwards, and I fall, gasping, to the bed. He lands upon me and begins to assault my pussy and tits, hitting my cunt so hard that he told me it looked like cooked spam.

Which he decided needed tasting.

Lips, teeth, tongue and beard all working over my burning throbbing aching pussy…his laugh as I came, hard, over and over again, vibrating against my clit with more force than my dildo ever could.

Later, I’ll try to get my subspaced head clear enough to tell you of my “best part”…but it is so hard, you know? Because really? The best part is any time that I get to spend with my Master.



They met in a bar in a mutually convenient location. First dates were always fraught with tensions on both sides of the table. He wanted to run his finger down the curves of her little black neckline, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

She wanted to be loved. Nurtured. Stroked.

She wanted to be wanted.

He wanted with a ferocity that was mind-boggling. There was one goal here. Score!

So much rested on the end of the drink. Would she have another? Or be on her way.

Three hurricane cocktails later they were laughing, while under the table, the press of his dick against his pants was painful. He enjoyed the pain, the promise of pleasure. He noted her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her dress, she noticed him noticing.

She might have blushed, or maybe it was just the flush of the rum, but what the hell. He took her hand as they walked to her car.

“Follow me home. Please?”

She bit her lip. Following him home meant that she would likely stay through morning. She nodded, biting her lip, then giggled as she almost fell over when she leaned into him for a drunken kiss. He grabbed her before she went over, steadying her.

“Wait a sec…I think you shouldn’t be driving. Come with me…” His voice was tender with concern, and she kissed him again before sliding around him. The rush of sex-need was intense.

“Hurry,” she whispered as she nibbled his earlobe. He put her into the passenger seat, then buckled himself into the driver seat. He shifted, trying to ease the ache in his groin. It had never been so intensely hard. She must be sending off some powerful pheromones. He waited while she stabbed the seatbelt into place.

It took three tries.

With a flourish, she finally sent it home, the click as loud as clapping.

“Did it!” she giggled.

“At last,” he thought as he turned the car on. ¬†She wasn’t sure what they talked about but it was not all that long before they cruised into a driveway, the dark open maw of a garage before them. He drove in slowly, put it into park, then unbuckled both belts. Drawing her across the seat, he kissed her with a hunger that reignited her own rum-fueled passion.

Fumbling, stumbling, they made it up the three steps from the garage to the kitchen, into the house, down the hallway. A long line of discarded clothing, mostly hers, left a trail. He kissed and pinched and fondled her breasts. She must have liked it for in moments she stood naked, back to the wall, arms stretched over her head.

“Ravage me, you beast,” she half-slurred, arching her back and thrusting her ruby-tipped tits towards him. His fingers grabbed and twisted, but the rougher he handled her the more she arched and growled.

He could smell her arousal, see the silver glint of it trailing down her thighs. His hands grabbed handfuls of tit, kneading the fat roundness, rubbing his still sheathed cock against her belly.

“Do me,” she whispered, biting his earlobe. “Take me hard, rough. I love it rough. Fuck me brutally you beast!”

Grabbing her hair he almost threw her across the room to his large bed. He smacked her ass as she landed on her side giggling. She moaned deeper as he battered at her bottom, her back arching, ass rising into each slap.

The heat from her ass cheeks, now a bright cherry red, excited him and he began to pant with need.

“I want to tie you, rape you, fuck you like you deserve,” he grunted.

‘Yes, yes, hurry. Tie me, fuck me, take me, you demon. Use me like a fucking whore…”

“Yesssss,” he moaned, dragging her up the bed to wrap her wrists painfully tight with the rope that he’d put there earlier, hopeful.

She growled as the rope bit into her flesh, hurting and exciting her simultaneously. In moments he was tying her ankle just as tight, stretching her leg wide. She’d never been tied so tightly before. She felt her nipples clench tight, her pussy so wet, so needy.

“Fucking hurrrrry. I’m dying for your cock.”

He turned and slapped her pussy hard, striking repeatedly. She cried, she kicked at the mattress, at him, with her free ankle. He grabbed it with one hand, while continuing the assault on her pussy.

“Come,” he demanded, slapping hard and hitting her clit. With a scream, she arched, whimpering prayers to nameless deities as she came again.

“That’ll hold you at least for a minute, you greedy slut!”

Hurriedly he tied her other ankle as her pussy pulsed and drooled.

Rising from the bed he shut the light and finished undressing.

“Hit me again you fucker!” she yelled, tugging at her restraints, thrashing her head. It was hard to see him in the room now, with the only light coming from the hallway. He moved towards her, mounting the bed, crawling between her thighs. His cock slid across her leg.

“What was that, you bastard? HIT me!” she demanded.

“My cock wants your wet holes, you little slut. Just as much as your holes want my cock.”

“Not my ass!”

“Oh yes, all your holes. Every one, mine!”

He laughed, then leaned forward and slapped her tits. He admired the bounce with every blow, the red imprint of his hand, the tight crinkle of her nipple. He laid atop her, and she felt his cock between her thighs.

Growling, she wanted it in her, dammit, she still rose as his mouth latched onto her breast, sucking and biting. The probing at her cunt made her freeze. Several somethings were probing. She felt a poke at her asshole, her pussy. Something fat and flexible probed at her, and he grunted around a mouthful of tit.

“Wha…what the…fuuuuck….”¬†

Her head arched back as she was suddenly full, both holes, with twisting, twining somethings.

He pressed his lower body closer, grinding his pelvis against her, moaning.

The fullness moved deeper, into her pussy, probing against her cervix, a painful excitement building there.

“Oh…oh¬†fuck…” she drew a deep breath as the thing in her ass shoved deeply into her bowels. Past caring what it was, the sensations of dual-fullness, of pain in breast and belly ground her into an intense orgasm.

“Yessssssss!” He moaned, the first hard spurt shooting through and filling her belly with his seed. He filled her, filled her, filled her to overflowing, as dick in her ass and pussy pulsed hot jism into her.

Arching, receiving, feeling bloated and full of him. So full of him. He bit her nipple, bit her tit, and she welcomed it, reveled in it. Orgasms wracked her body, as she absorbed his juice, until spent, she slept.

She woke.

He stood beside the bed, and she stared at the place where his cock should have been. A small nubbin was there. Just that.

“Wh-what?” Feeling like she’d woken from a stupor, she stretched. Her body felt languid.

“They fall off after I cum, then grow back. The longer I go before I have sex, the more of them grow. Last night I had two. You seemed to enjoy them.”

He smiled at her.

Reaching out to fondle the nubbin, that was almost visibly growing, she smiled up at him.

“How long does it take to grow back?”

“Depends on the inspiration,” he replied with a wink.

“Beat me, you fucking bastard!” Dropping the empty juice glass onto the night stand, she thrust her finger at him.

His cock grew an inch when he slapped her inner thigh.

* Yes, there really is a drink called a Hurricane Cocktail: 1 oz dark rum, 2 teaspoons lime juice, 1 tablespoon passion-fruit syrup. Shake in a cocktail shaker with ice, strain into a cocktail glass.  url here: Hurricane Cocktail

** with special thanks to Donna, my scientific guru, who provided invaluable data to me about a species of sea creature that does indeed shed its penis after copulating, only to regrow another quickly. Some of these incredible creatures can thus copulate 3-4 times in 24 hours. Horny little devils. (my kind of creature!)

and yeah. blog vacation. fail. again. ūüôā The¬†idea of it seems to be inspiring a lot of these “interesting” stories, however. ¬†~n~


dragon2Fist in her hair holding her face to the bed.

Hands on her legs, tugging up her skirt, ripping down her pantyhose.


The voice came from behind her, and she felt her wrists tugged to her back, the slick feel of plastic looping around them, tugged tight enough to bite into her wrists.

A finger probed her slit, finding her hole.

She tried to shake her head, but the hand in her hair held her still, held her face into the mattress, nearly cutting off her breath.

There was a sound, she recognized as a belt coming undone, the metal chink of the buckle tugged open, the unmistakable sound of a zipper being quickly lowered.

And then he was in her.

Two hands on her head, two hands holding her forearms, as he pummelled her pussy from behind. Her legs hung off over the edge of the bed as he reamed her, pumping so hard that her left shoe fell off with a thunk to the floor.

Fingers biting into her arm as she felt the cock in her pussy pump its jizz into her belly.

A sigh, a soft moan, the pop of release as he tugged out of her. She felt the mattress below her cunt wet with the drizzle from her leaking hole.

Hands moved, tugging hairs from her head, other hands taking over, mashing her face in the bed.

Fingers probing her pussy, and she knew, she knew what was coming. Fingers smearing wetness on her asshole, fingers poking into that tightly muscled ring. She tried to scream then, voice muffled in the bedclothes, tried to struggle, but to no avail.

There was pressure, as the finger was withdrawn,  as the hot flared head of a cock replaced it. The thick head was relentless, and her anus was sprung open as the invader popped inside.

She screamed again, deep into the mattress, her body taut with the pain.

And then he was withdrawing, pulling all the way out.

A moment of relief, just like after having a big poo, and she thought, hoped, prayed that was it, that he was done, that it was over.

It wasn’t over.

Between one breath and the next, he pressed forward into that tight bundle of tissue, sliding even more deeply into her bowels . He withdrew yet again, she whimpered,  understanding now that he was enjoying the sensations of her ass fighting his assault.

He thrust hard, her asshole relenting to his pole. He slid deep, filling her shithole with the thick hard prick. He ground his hips into her, until she felt the crinkly hair of his crotch against her asscheeks, working his tool all the way into her ass. She tried to push him out, and he ground deeper, corkscrewing his shaft up into her gut.

And holding.

“I’m in.”

There was a sound, which she couldn’t identify. Her head was lifted, and a wad of something shoved between her lips, then sticky duct tape over that. ¬†Something was wound around and around her head, taking her sight. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t fight, couldn’t stop them.

She was rolled to her side, then her back, the other cock still lodged deeply in her ass. The throbbing there was intense, she felt the need to shit, to expel that which filled her so.

She felt, too, the throb in her clit, her nipples.  She felt the flush of shame at that.

Her hands hurt, pressed under her back, against the shirt of the man under her. The bed shifted again.

She shook her head, even as hands came to her shirt, ripping it open, as her bra was ruthlessly shoved up over her tits, baring them.

A cock probed her pussy slit, fingers pinched her left nipple, teeth clamped over her right.

And then he was inside her in one hard thrust.

The man under her moaned against her ear, a soft “fuuuccck”.

The man on top fucked cruelly, a steady pounding into and out of her hole, while the rub of jeans against her stockings tore long tracks where the teeth of his lowered zipper scraped her thigh.

It seemed like it went on forever.

Her pussy ached, throbbed, hurt with the relentless thrusting. Her clit, banged relentlessly, quivered. The orgasm, when it hit, was like a tsunami. She stiffened, back arching even in this awkward position, her cunt clenching and grabbing at the pumping rod, slicking her tunnel with hot juice.

“Whore,” he growled at her, his hands mashing her tits, exciting her body to more paroxysms of orgasmic clenching.

His pace slowed, withdrawing as if reluctant to leave the steaming hole, slammed back as if trying to punch her belly with the swollen head of his cock.

He came, buried in her, hot thick gouts filling her as he growled. The man under her shifted, flexed his hips once, twice, and she swore she could feel his cum jet from him, pouring into her bowels.

They pulled from her, cut her wrists free, left her laying on the bed.


**a very dark dragon-laden tale…it had to be told**

“Man, that was fuckin’ good.” Troy rolled off the girl, gasping. He rubbed his lower belly gently. His rod was so fucking sensitive after he shot his wad. He glanced at the pussy he’d just violated.

The word gave him a delicious thrill.


Her cunt was red and swollen. A string of cum stretched from her oozing hole to her upper thigh, left by his cock as he’d pulled away and rolled off of her.

His friend Will was pumping into her mouth, held open by some fucking weird gag thing Will had found in his parent’s room. There was the most awesome chest under their bed, full of ¬†sex things. A box of condoms that they just left in there. Rope, which they used to tie her to the bed, and whips to slap her thighs and belly with. ¬†Clampy things that, after some research online had revealed themselves to be nipple clamps.

She’d squeeled like a fuckin’ pig when they’d put those on her rosy nipples; it had made him hard as a fucking steel pole when she’d gone and grunted and bucked. ¬†The duct tape they used at first on her mouth had muffled much of the sound, but eventually all the toys in the box had been identified. The “Spider’ gag was quickly inserted, making her mouth available to fuck without fear of losing their cocks if she tried to bite.

Her nipples were purple under the clamps. He figured he better pull them fuckers off. She rose up, screaching around Wills cock, making him groan.

“Gonna….cummmmmmmm” and suiting action to words, He pressed his groin hard against their new slut’s face. There were gagging sounds coming from under him, then silence. He flopped off of her, and Troy saw her swallowing with some difficulty. Cum streaked her cheek and chin, and a small dribble ran down her neck.

“Man, she’s a fuckin’ mess. We gotta clean her up before we let her go.”

“I don’t have the engergy,” Will gasped, sliding onto the floor. “I fucked her like 5 times.”

“Three, supercock. Three fucks. Ass, pussy, face. ¬†Same as me. Five. You fucking wish.”

“Fine, Mr. Knowitall. YOU fucking clean her up then.”

“no. no fuckin’ way am I gonna. We could throw her in the shower?” His head flopped off the bed, looking over at his buddy, slumped on the side. ¬†There was a scratching at the door.

“Fucking A. Will. Your fucking dog needs to go out. Again. How often does he fucking need to take a piss? His bladder must be the size of a fucking walnut. ”

Will sat, eyes closed, almost dozing off. Wearily, Troy slipped off the bed, and let the dog out. Opening the fridge as he waited for the beast, he snagged a few EnerG drinks, and then saw it.

“Hey, doesn’t Mumford like Cheese wiz?”

Will’s voice came down the hall. “Yeah? so what, mutherfucker? He’s a dog. He eats fucking everything. Last week he ate my shorts. Fucker.” Wills voice mumbled¬†incomprehensibly down into silence.

“You let him eat your tighty-whities? Man, you must fart some delicious dog-food out that fat ass of yours!” Troy guffawed, as he went to let the dog back in. ¬†Mumford started snorting at the can of cheese in Troy’s hand.

“I got an idea. A fucking prime A idea. C’mon Mumford, you fucking shit head dog….”

He squirted a bit of the cheese on his finger, letting the dog lick it off. It was all the encouragement the pooch needed. In seconds, Troy and the 80 pound Great Dane mix were back in the bedroom.

“Sit, Mumford.” Will pointed his finger at the dog.

The dog, staring expectantly at the bottle of Cheeze Wiz, sat, tongue lolling.

“So the idea…no. No fuckin’ way…You fucking perv. Let me get my camera!”

Troy waved the bottle of cheese, giggling a bit as the dog followed its passage, his head moving back, then forth. He slid the bottle between Claire’s legs.

“Open up honeypot, Daddy’s back! You’re gonna have such a fuckin’ good time now…”

Claire moaned, wriggling and trying to move. Tied as she was to the four corners of the bed, she didn’t move more than an inch…and the nozzle of the cheese was pressed inside her cunt anyway. The shocking coldness made her whine around the gag holding her mouth open.

“Filling your cunt up with cheese, slut! Mumford just LOVES CheezeWiz…and with the added flavor of cunt? I think you might have two boyfriends here, now. Hey Will? You gonna be jealous that your dog is gonna tongue-fuck your girlfriend?”

There was a flash of light, as Will took the first picture, one of a red pussy, with a thin line of cheese oozing from it.  The second picture captured the line of cheese around her still-open mouth, like obscene lipstick. She shook her head, but the sticky, almost-plastic substance stuck firmly.  She grunted, bucked, and  tugged.

She was stuck.

Troy called the dog to the bed, leaning across, and applying a line of cheese at her ankle. The dog started lapping. The line continued as Troy trailed the nozzle up her calf, her knee, her thigh. The dog grew more excited, and leapt onto the bed, licking furiously.

She bucked and wriggled, but the dog’s tongue found the source of the cheese, and began eating her pussy voraciously. He lapped and dug into her, slurping and nosing her folds apart for deeper and deeper access. ¬†He licked across her anus, and that sensitive line of flesh that separated ass from cunthole. She bucked now to give him greater access, and soon he was nose deep in her folds. As his tongue rasped over her tender flesh, hitting that sensitive spot at the top of her channel, she arched, head back, as she flooded into an intense orgasm. He kept licking.

She was aching, throbbing as her body came down, yet still the fucking beast lapped at her. The second orgasm slammed into her. Her cunt convulsed, and the dog pressed harder, trying to get deeper. He could taste the tantalizing hint of more cheese…and when her spasming pussy opened, he dove deep, his long fat tongue slurping up her cum, the boys cum, and CheezeWiz. ¬†He licked; she came, until she fainted.

She woke when his tongue swiped across hers. She tasted dog spit, cheese, and cum. No matter how she turned her head, he followed, lapping her lips, her cheeks, the inner walls of her mouth.

She cried out when she felt the nozzle pressing against her pussy.

“Instant replay!” Came Troy’s voice, followed by the click click click of Will’s camera.

“Well have to do this again next weekend, won’t we?” Click, click. “You sure don’t want these pics up on your facebook wall, do you?



it’s not often I have the same dream again, and again, and again, and again. Yet the fucking Cheesewiz bit kept coming to me over and over, much like Claire’s orgasms in the story. I don’t condone forced rape. Not in real life. This is pure fantasy, my pervy pals…after all…we ALL know that cheezewiz isn’t really cheese! ¬† Ergo….fantasy! ¬†~n~

Mechanic, working it out

Warning! ¬† This is not for the faint of heart…the links will take you back to the story chapter by chapter to refresh you…Here be Dragons of epic proportions! ¬†~nilla~


He strolled around the house. Last night had ended well…for him at least. The two sluts that he’d taken possession of the day before had slept on the floor at the foot of his bed. Once during the night he’d awoken, gotten up to piss. Returning, he pulled one of them up by the hair and told it to lick his cock dry. The struggle was brief; his hold on the hair, likely the boyfuck’s hair, had been impervious to wriggling. His cock had been licked dry, and then he relaxed his grip and gotten back to bed.

When he rose, they were gone, and he wondered if they’d fled.

But when he’d come into the kitchen there they were, making breakfast and coffee. The kitchen floor had been scrubbed, and gleamed in the morning light. The scent of coffee began percolating through the room, and he noticed the counters were tidy and clean, the appliances sparkled, and the loose knob on the back door had been tightened.

He nodded, taking the mug of coffee offered to him.

“You need names. I can’t call you slut and slut. Too fucking confusing. So you,” he pointed with the mug towards Jim, “you’re a pussy.” He sneered the word out, admiring the cringe on the soft man’s face.

“Yeah. Pussy. And you…” he took a sip, looking over the rim of the mug at Angela, who had dared to raid the laundry hamper and was wearing one of his own shirts. Sexy. Impudent. Punishable. But….after she finished cooking breakfast, which looked to be the lightest pancakes he’d ever seen.

“You’re a tiger…got some sass in you, some fight…That’s okay, I don’t mind pushing you back down into your place. Makes it all the more fun for me, really. ¬†Pussy, Tiger. ” He laughed, a hard, almost mean laugh, and took another sip of the coffee.

“Pussy, come sit under the table and suck my dick. Not hard, just keep it warm and harden it up for me. After breakfast I’m gonna put Tiger on the table and fuck her hard up her asshole.”

He loved the sudden clenching of her shoulders, the ultra rigid stance.

“no.” It was quiet and defiant.

In a heartbeat, he was up and behind her, his fist in her hair, bending her back. “You don’t get a fuckin’ vote here, cunt. You work for my work in return. And you better not burn those pancakes because they look fuckin’ delicious. And if you fuck them up, I’ll whallop the shit out of you before I fuck your ass. ¬†Got it?”

He punctuated the last few words with a hard shake of her head with his fistful of hair. He watched the tear flow from the eye closest to him. It made his dick throb.

“Yes Sir,” she whispered.



She lay on the table, her head in the plate with the detritus of His breakfast. She could smell the syrup, and imagined the bits of leftover pancake and bacon stuck in her hair.  She, who was so fastidious, was a fucking mess. He was smacking her pussy, her legs splayed open. She dared not move them, though the pain was stinging and made her want to run screaming from this fucking house of horror.

Yet for some reason, she had stayed. She could have left last night, or this morning. Yet, she came down, cleaned, scrubbed, and prepared breakfast for Him. Soon her boyfriend had joined her, helping with the cleaning, and in some light fixing. He was a dork, but he could use a screwdriver.

“You might think you hate this, Tiger, but you’re so wet my hand is splashing. This could cause a fucking tidal wave!” He laughed. She hated when he made fun of her. She was so fucking embarrassed by being so turned on by what he kept doing to her, to Jim…Pussy. She better not fuck up and call him by his regular name or she’d be caned for it. This pussy smacking was His punishment for taking his shirt, AND for daring to wear it when he’d told them yesterday they had to be naked. She hated him. Hated him. Her cunt gushed with ¬†His final smack.

“Pussy, get the fuck over here and lick her asshole. That’s right, yes, nice and wet and deep…stick that tongue in there. Right…lap it…lap it…come on you fucktard…wet. Your spit is the only lube this cunt is gonna get…if her ass hurts, you’re gonna hear about it, so fucking prepare her ass for my cock!”

She writhed and moaned. She hated it…she loved it. So fucking¬†humiliating…she could feel the wetness coming from her pussy….and Ji…Pussy lapping at her…ohhhh…his tongue thrust in an out of her asshole, a soft, wet, hot¬†precursor¬†to something much more intense.

“Move outta my way, I got an ass to fuck.” He shoved Pussy out of the way, and pulled her down off the table.

“Turn over. ¬†Put your hands behind and open your butt cheeks for me, that’s it, at least one of you can follow directions…yeah…oh…yeah…tight…nice…oh…shut the fuck up cunt…oooohhh, nice and hot and tight. Wait. Let’s do that again.”

He pulled his cockhead out of her ass, then pressed it against the entrance again. She whimpered, wanting to fight.

“It hurts…” she moaned as he pulled out and popped in again.

“Oh, Tiger, it is so much more fun for me when it does…” Without warning he shoved his hips forward, nearly burying his length inside her rectum. She reared up a bit, squealing and moaning.

“Pussy, reach under her there and grab her nipples. Good. pull them back down to the table, will you? Good. Don’t let them go. You hold them nice and tight.”

He pulled out, slapping her hip, then thrust deeply. She felt the scrunchy curls at the base of his shaft pressing against the skin of  her soft round ass. Her nipples ached, as for once her pussy of a boyfriend did exactly as he was told. The pain in her ass was mirrored in her tits, the ache an echo of her heartbeat. She was beyond tears, beyond screaming, just a slow and steady wail as he fucked her butt relentlessly.

His cock pulsed and jetted streams of cum up her asspipe. He paused, breathing hard, legs trembling. All this fucking took a toll after a while. Pushing off the limp slut on the table, he pointed his finger at the Pussy.

“You go over there and clean up that hole. It’s full of cum…and I want it sparkling, clean and dry when I get back from my shower. Then I’ll have chores for the two of you to get to…got my boys comin’ over for poker tonight…and we’re gonna have one hell of a partay!”

Rubbing his balls, he headed for the bathroom, as the Pussy buried his face in the wet crack of his girlfriend.

It was turning out to be a fucking fine morning!


here be dragons. ¬†Maybe not enough to go on Dark Fantasies…but dragons nonetheless…and …it’s long. ūüôā ~nilla

She was in the back room. It was empty now, but would make a great office space.  She leaned on her broom, imagining things bright and clean, fresh paint on the walls, perhaps a bright area rug on the floor. Shaking her head she got back to work. There was a lot of work to get to before that vision came to reality.

The former small restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall, to be sure. The new owners were looking for more atmosphere. An “ambiance” ¬†Stella had been told, complete with air quotes. She applauded their passion, but some clients were…demanding. And okay. Annoying.

Over the last two weeks, her crew had pulled out the old 50’s era booth seats, the scarred tables, and broken tabletop juke boxes. Out went the old counter, the floor-mounted stools. The place was an empty husk, waiting. ¬†On Monday, the new floor would go down, a lovely reclaimed wood that was costing the new owners a bundle, but would be an awesome statement, and look good in her growing portfolio.

The sharp knocking on the back door startled her. She made her way  through the old kitchen, down the narrow corridor and turned into the delivery area.

She opened the door a crack. “Sorry, closed for reconstruction.”

He pushed through the door, all six-feet-plus of him. “Don’t give a fuck if you’re closed or open. I got a load of wood to drop off. Manifest says to drop it in here. I’m dropping it in here.” He stared down at her, making her very aware that she was here and alone. She put on her best professional attitude.

“The wood stays outside.”

“The manifest says it goes inside.”

“I’m the one who ordered it, and I want it stored outside.”

He stepped into her personal space. “I’d be careful with that uppity attitude, little girl.” She stared up at him, eyes wide. ¬†She didn’t see his hand snake behind him to lock the door, nor when it slapped up and grabbed her by her hair.

She let out a yelp, but his mouth covered hers. She tried to break away but he backed her up until her back hit the wall. His lips brushed hers as he spoke. “If you scream, it will be bad for you. If you bite me, you’ll pay for it. You can’t really afford my fee, so be a good girl. There’s no one around the area, got it?”

She stared up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. Her heart was thundering, and panic made her breath come in short gasps. The fist in her hair drew tight. “Open your fucking mouth. I wanna see if my cock is gonna fit.”

She didn’t want to.

Gods she didn’t want to.

Yet the fist tightened inexorably, painfully, in her hair. Her mouth opened.

He peered inside like he was inspecting a horse. And then he spat into her mouth. Saliva hit her tongue and the back of her throat. His other hand shot up and cupped her chin, pressing her mouth shut.

“Swallow it.”

His hand covered her mouth, and pinched her nose shut.

“I said to fucking swallow, you cunt!”

She trembled at the tone of his voice, and ¬†what she had to do. She swallowed, gagging. ¬†“Good slut.” He slapped her cheek. His hands slid down her shoulders to mash at her tits through her tee-shirt. She’d not bothered with a bra today, knowing that she was doing grunge work. His hands mangled her tits, finding and pinching the sensitive tips between his thumb and middle fingers. ¬†He took a big step backwards, leaning towards her, and suddenly tugged her towards him ¬†by her nipples, making her gasp and jump forward. He stepped and tugged again.

And laughed when she again leapt forward. Her nipples were screaming. After a few more steps around the room, he tired of the game, and hooking his leg around her ankle, pushed her to the dirty floor. In seconds he had her shirt around her neck, and began  slapping her tits. Pinching a rosy nipple, he backhanded it, only to repeat the move on her other breast. She whimpered and moaned under the assault.

“On your belly. Now!”

She flipped over, feeling the grit of the dirt she’d yet to clear from the floor. She’d given her crew an extended weekend, knowing the wood wouldn’t be delivered until later today. Her head banged against the floor as he roughly pulled her tee-shirt free. ¬†In moments he’d tied her wrists behind her with the shirt, and then grabbing her ankles, he wrapped one into the same tie.

“Three-quarter hog tie will hold you. Be right back, sunshine!” She watched his feet move towards the door. He left it slightly ajar; she heard a truck door open. She tried to roll to her knee, and wound up on her hip. She tugged and pulled, but her wrists and ankle were tied tightly. ¬†She hitched along, hoping she could get into the storage room, and lock the door. ¬† Yet, only moments passed before she heard the slam of the truck door, and ¬†his bootsteps against the concrete steps.

“Well, well, where did you think you were going, slut?”

She whimpered, and tried to wriggle faster, but his boots were in front of her face in seconds. “I don’t remember telling you to move, sunshine. What a bad girl you are.” He paused, and she felt his hands releasing her from the tie. “Then again, I do very much enjoy ‘bad’ girls.” He laughed at his own joke. He pulled her to her feet, fist in his hair again. She whimpered and mewled ‘ow ow ow’, which only made his hand tighten more. He pushed her away, and she fell against the wall.

“Get those clothes off.” His finger waved to her jeans and shoes. “Now!” he barked at her.

She shook her head, no. “I won’t.”

He stepped forward, and slapped her hard against her left tit. He hit hard, and she felt the burn of it through her breast, through her nipple. It felt like she was bruising, but she stared up at him, defiant. ¬†He hit her tit again, and she winced. “I’m gonna hit your tit until you decide to strip for me. ¬†As for me? I enjoy hitting your tit. You go ahead and take your time deciding.”

He slapped her tit again. It felt like this blow was harder than the prior ones. She felt heat, a deep searing pain. He seemed to be hitting in almost the exact same spot. Yet she could outlast him. She tried to move away, tried to cover her tit.

“Oh, so you’re not tough, and you can’t take it and you’re thinking I’m just gonna let you slide away?” He laughed. Grabbing a hunk of hair, he pulled her across the room. He’d hung a coil of rope on the doorknob. ¬†It only took him moments to tie her hands together at the wrist. He took the end of the rope and pulled her deeper into the building. In the kitchen he found a thick hook over the door. Quickly he made a loop ¬†and hoisted it into the hook. It pulled her to her tiptoes.

“That’ll keep you.” He nodded, satisfied, then pulled his belt from his pants. It made a hissing noise that sounded ominous.

“Please…” she whined. “Please…not…”

The belt was folded in half and slapped across her tit before she could finish. ¬†“Beg,” he said with a sinister smile. “Beg some more, pretty girl…” He continued, striking hard across her jutting bosom. Her breath grew ragged, she bit her lip. Tears swelled and dripped as he rained blows onto her throbbing tits. They were crisscrossed in welts, red and blue bruises. Her nipples were engorged, throbbing. Dancing on her toes, she tried to get the words out, but only sobs sounded.

The belt hit the floor with the clink of the metal buckle on the old underlayment. She cried, soft whispers of sound. Tears blinded her; his fingers against her belly were a shock. In seconds her jeans were released, and he tugged them down her legs. His finger hooked into her panties, pulling them up into her slit and making her moan through the tears. He sawed them up and down a few times, reaching out to finger one swollen nipple.

Stepping away, he pulled  a knife from his pocket and sawed through her panties. The caress of the cold metal against her belly made her shudder in fear. He had a knife. He read the fear in her eyes, and traced the sharp tip around her nipple, pressing it gently into the flesh.  Sliding the blade away, he sucked the nipple into his mouth, biting firmly. His fingers slid between her thighs, pinching the soft skin there.

And found her wet when he touched her outer folds.

“Fucking whore! Your pussy tells me that you are enjoying every fucking minute of this. You little cunt!” He jabbed his finger up into her hole, feeling the heat and wet there. With a groan, he pulled it out, wiping the digit across her belly. He unzipped his jeans, letting his cock spring free. Even strung up as she was, he had to lift her hips to slid his thick tool into her pussy. She was so wet. So hot. He slid home easily.

“You fucking dirty whore, I’m gonna fuck you so hard your head is going to explode!” ¬†Driving his mouth across her abused tits, biting and sucking, his fingers dug into her ass as he began pumping his rigid dick into her fuckhole.

The room was quiet, but for the wet sucking sounds of a cock sliding in and out of a soaked cunt.

His roar shattered the silence as his balls boiled his hot juice, spurting up into her belly. His fingers left marks on her round white ass, as he ground his pelvis against her, as his cock filled her with his semen. She rocked on the fullness inside of her, crying as his teeth bit into her tit. She  pulled against the restraint, as her body began to shake with her own orgasm.

He pulled out of her with a wet sound. He slapped her pussy, then tucking his spent cock into his pants, he zipped up, and bent to retrieve his belt.  She hung, toes cramping as she tried to keep herself from swinging as he passed by her. Moments later she heard the sound of the door opening,  then the sound of boards hitting the floor in the other room.

He was unloading the fucking truck.

She felt cum running down her legs, saw the pool of it on the floor between her feet. ¬†Time stopped and started with every hollow thunk of lumber. ¬†She didn’t know how long it was before he returned. Lifting her from behind, her arms felt thick and heavy as they fell forward.

He untied her wrists, laying her on the floor. “You can recover here, slut. But something to remember me by.” His hands were busy at her breast. In a moment, she felt the biting pain. “These are what we in the wood business call ¬†‘C’ clamps…use them all the time in the shop. This small pair makes perfect nipple clamps. I wouldn’t whine too much, slut. They can go tighter, and the appeal for that…stirs me. You have yourself a good day, slut. I left a copy of the delivery in with the wood.”

She saw his feet moving away, heard the back door open, then shut with a thud. In moments the sound of an engine running came to her, then moved away. ¬†She sat up, body throbbing. It had been a long time since anyone had used her this way. Or perhaps she’d never been used this hard. ¬†With shaking hands, she released the clamp on her left nipple. ¬†Oh, gods it hurt as much coming off as it had going on. Maybe worse. She whimpered a little. Perhaps she’d wait to take off the other one. But it hurt to be on there, too.

Her cell phone chimed that she’d received text. Getting to her feet, she staggered over to her jeans, pulling the phone from her pocket. With a shaking hand, she looked at the screen.

“Next time you need some more “wood” be sure to give me a call.”

Dom Daniel had always had a warped sense of humor.

Fucktoy, (ch 4-fini)

She woke first the next morning. Her hair was matted and sticky, her hands still bound in the rope her Master had wrapped them in. They’d both been pretty wasted when they’d passed out.

Sex-drunk, she thought with a smile.

She smelled. Sex and sweat were great in the moment, but in the hard light of morning? Not so much. And she had a gross taste in her mouth. Cum and beer. Definitely not a winning combination.

She moved a bit, wincing. Bruises on arms, legs, tits. Her pussy sore and tender. He’d fucked her pussy with cock and dildo last night, fucked her ass that way too.

Wanted her to feel “double-stuffed” like a cookie. Ha ha wasn’t that clever of him.

He’d been horny, wild for sex by the time they got home. He’d pinched her tits with His fingers until she fell to her knees in homage. Tears coursed down her face as he cruelly twisted them, then lifted her back to her feet by them.

He’d shoved her back to the bed, hard. Falling on her, his mouth bit into tender flesh, first biting her tits, nipping her nipples sharply, and then biting down her belly.

He loved the taste of pussy, and she was so soaked that He sucked her delightedly. And bit. He bit pussy lips and inner lips, and attacked her clit voraciously, a Master starved for his slut. Watching the other men at the bar play with her had heightened his need for her, it seemed.

Or perhaps He was merely restating His claim on her flesh. Whichever it was, she had been deeply, ruthlessly pushed into many orgasms, and fucked brainless.

She felt Him stirring and rubbed her cheek on his arm. He’d held her tightly through the night.


He woke with his cock full and hard. Morning wood but this time, lust. He’d been up at 4 to release his piss, this was more relentless need burning in his gut.


He’d enjoyed sharing her, watching her be objectified, holes to be present for “any Mans” satiety.


She was also His. His cock throbbed, and he positioned it between her legs, and slipped his hips forward, fucking into her slit. The head of his cock butted against her closed thighs, which pressed him hard against her clit.

She moaned.

Fuckin’ slut was awake! He bit her neck, growling a feral “good morning fuckslut” at her. She moaned arching her back and neck, angling for more. Greedy lil whore! He bit harder, as his hips bucked slowly against her ass, gently sliding his shaft through her wetting channel.

He felt her cuntlips swell and cradle his dick. He wanted in. He slipped his left hand down and positioned his cock at her hole and shoved.

She grunted with the unexpected entry.

“Fuck it, whore” he growled in her ear, reaching up and grabbing her tit. He squished and moulded her breast, contorted her nipples. ¬†She wiggled and writhed trying to get into a position to move her hips back and forth and fuck him. He didn’t make it easy. He wanted her to struggle, to work for this.

She found a rhythm, pulling and pushing against his rigid rod. He was happy with her efforts. But this morning he wanted more. He pulled away, and left her on the bed.

She turned and watched him digging in the closet. She saw the heavy-duty clamps with dread. Oh. Gods. She fucking hated that pair.

Which of course, he knew. The look in his eye let her know he was reclaiming her. Taking her body, her mind, her pain, her sex. The clamps bit hard. And she cried out.

“pleassseeee Master….gawwwwd” as He pulled on the chain. He pushed and moved her on the bed until her face was buried in the mattress and her ass was pointing up.

She felt the first slap on her ass, as her tits were ground, clamped and on fire with pain, into the bed. The pain of His spanking helped to change her focus from her throbbing nipples, at least.

There was a whistle sound a brief second before the sharp sting of the rattan cane strike registered. OMFG! He stroked up one asscheek, down the other. Pain bloomed in fast response, and she was moaning and crying into the mattress. She didn’t beg for mercy, for she ¬†knew none would come.

When her ass was glowing and striped, she felt his fingers in her cunt.

“You think you hate this, cunt, but your hole says otherwise. You are so fucking wet.”

The soft slurping sounds of his fingers moving in her hole were evidence that she was turned on.

Still getting his cock in her ass was a shock. No warning, no warm up, nothing but dick.

He sawed into her ass, then pushed into her pussy. He gave her permission to cum. Then switched to her ass and made her cum again as he pulled on her clit.

“I know you feel that juice brewing in your belly, even while my dick takes and stretches your poop hole, whore…”

He said those things to add to her humiliation, she knew, and she flushed with embarrassment. And she came again, harder than before.

Her pussy clenched tight and hard, and he could feel it even buried deeply in her asshole. He felt his own sex juice begin to boil. It wasn’t long before his own explosion pushed rope after rope of his seed into her tailpipe.

He pulled out of her, rolled her over, and released her hands.

“Breakfast is served, slut.” He said with a smile. “Breakfast for my fucktoy…and it’s all nice and warm.”

She ate. Fingerful by fingerful, she scooped and lapped at His seed as it leaked from her asshole. It wasn’t the cum that really fed her.

It was simply being His.


Fucktoy (pt3)

She straddled the Cowboys lap, facing her Master. She felt his thick hard hands grabbing her hips, pulling her ass back against his belly. She could also feel the thickness of his cock pressing against her butt. Her eyes met those of her Master across the table.

Half-hidden in the gloomy corner, she felt them boring into hers, reveling and absorbing her every reaction.  Cowboys right hand came up under her blouse, fondling her right tit, while his left slid over her hip and up under the minuscule skirt she wore. His rough and calloused forefinger rubbed her slit and he chuckled aloud.

“This shore do be a wet cunny here, Mister. Thinkin’ I’d like to give yor gal a lil finger action. Whadda ya think?” His fingers pinched against her nipple hard, and she moaned low in her throat. Her pussy clamoured for attention. Oh, gawd. Oh, gawd! She needed to be fucked so badly!

She no longer noticed the crowded room, the sad excuse for music playing on the other side of the room; nothing existed now but her Master across the table, and the raw, craven need that rumbled in her cunt.

She shifted her hips a bit, rubbing against the probing finger enticingly.

Masters brow raised fractionally and she froze. He smiled. His control of the situation, of her actions and Cowboy’s was immense. She knew it fed Him plenty to be able to create the dance-tune they moved to. She mouthed to him “please, Master”, hoping that He would relent.

He shook His head, no.

She tried to not roll her eyes, a very rude response, but her pussy was screaming. She mouthed again…”please, Master”, her eyes begging, pleading.

Cowboys finger had found her sex button and had begun rubbing it. Round and round, then across it, hard and rough. There was no finesse to his groping, no pattern, and she ground her hips down when her Master gave a slight, nodding assent.

“May i cum, please Master?” she said, her voice whisper quiet.

“Cowboy, that slut on your lap wants to cum all over your hand. How do you feel about that? ” ¬†Master was the epitome of sincerity.

“Shore she can, c’mon lil filly, let ‘er rip…”

As the orgasm rolled through her, he shoved three fingers up inside of her as he separated his legs, opening her wider. She was lost in the grip of a powerful cum, feeling it splashing from her pussy, wetting his fingers, his hand as he shoved his thick, work-toughened fingers up her fuckhole.  She wanted more, more of this rough handed dude. She ground down, her orgasm rolling through her.

Spent, she would have fallen forward, but for the hand holding her up by her tit.

“Thank you Master, and thank you, Sir,” she murmured, as her head fell back against Cowboys shoulder.

“Oh, but you are not done yet, little fucktoy,” her Master said. “Get your ass down there between our friends legs and clean up. Clean up his fingers, his hand, and his jeans. You suck that pussy cum right off that denim, got me, slut?”

Silently she nodded. Sliding off Cowboys lap, she knelt on the floor between his legs, taking his hand in hers and guiding it to her mouth.

She felt the wetness on the floor and knew it to be her own juices that she was kneeling in. She had a moments gratitude that He’d not made her lick it up from the¬†disgustingly¬†dirty floor. She sucked Cowboys fingers clean, one at a time, and lapped at the webbing between.

She licked his palm, the back of his hand, until all traces of her juice were removed. He moaned as she slowly pulled her lips from his fingers.  Finding the big wet spot on his jeans,  she placed her lips upon it and began sucking and licking it.

His hand came down on her head, holding her against his crotch as he moaned once again.

“GAWD” he grated out, his head thrown back, teeth clenched, ¬†even as he pressed her harder ¬†into his groin, ¬†overwhelmed by the sensation of her mouth, and the teasing rasping as her¬†lapping tongue stroked across the wet denim.

“Fuckin’ A, friend, i shore do hope that mouth gets put to more use, and soon!!”

“Soon enough, my friend,” He reassured Cowboy. ¬†“She knows she needs to clean up first. Then we’ll see what other goodies she can offer to you.”

She felt Masters eyes on the back of her head as she worked. Her pussy throbbed.

She wondered exactly what ‘goodies’ He was talking about.

She didn’t have long to wait.

*** *** ***

Master bid her to rise, and drink her beer. She rose, carefully, her knees aching from kneeling so long.

She sipped at the beer, made a face.

“Don’t¬†dawdle,” Master ordered, gesturing for her to drink up. She grimaced, then chugged down the last of the vile stuff. He took a hank of hair, and pushed her forward towards the bar’s exit sign, glowing a lurid neon red in the dark and smokey room.

He bobbed his head towards the older fellow who’d been watching the action here at this table for the last hour, and Cowboy. The age-old ¬†gesture was universally known, and the two men rose and began to move towards the exit.

His slut was quiet, and He felt the shiver run through her. She knew He wasn’t done yet.

Smart cunt.

He’d parked the truck purposely ’round back, where the trees broke the parking lot light into dense shadow. ¬†He popped the back open, and turning her to face Him, he lifted her up onto the tailgate.

She saw that company had come to visit right off. Her gaze flew to His face. Before she could open her mouth, He told her gruffly to shut the fuck up.

She fell silent but He saw the worry. The nerves. And the lust. She could hide it from many, but not Him. This was pure fantasy come to life for her.

And Him.


The three men gathered around her in the back of the truck. He’d put down boards and a sponge mat earlier today, knowing that His own knees weren’t up for much hard surface.

“G’on and make her nekkid,” He said, watching as Cowboy, and their new guest, Blake, began touching her avidly. He reached up to the corner, and grabbed his rope, and took her hands. He wound it round her wrists, between her hands, over her hands, effectively embalming her fingers. He tied off the rope tightly over her head as she lay stretched out and bare.

They’d solved the problem of the blouse by ripping it from her, using Cowboys knife to help part reluctant seams.

Oh, this just got better and better.

He drew a condom from his back pocket, handed it to Blake, who grinned.

“Like a man who comes prepared,” he laughed as he tore open the foil pack and rolled the rubber over his dick. “Any special order You want this in?” he asked.

He shook his head. He wanted to see how it all played out first.

“I’m going to watch you two for a while.”

“Drinkin’ it all in, eh? She’s a fine lookin’ whore.” Blake slapped her belly. “On your knees, cunt. Oh, quit whinin, you’ll figure it out.” He spoke curtly as she strugged to obey with her hands tied to the crossbar.

Cowboy crawled up to her head and took her head in his hands, his stiff cock pulsing visibly. “I’ma gonna use this lil whore’s pie hole, but good…” and he slid ¬†his pole between her lips.

“Fight my cock, you dirty lil whore,” he ordered. She tried to clamp her mouth shut and he shoved hard against her lips. She felt and tasted the drop of precum that lubed against her lips, felt her teeth cut at the inside of her lip as he battered her mouth.

At the same time, she felt the other strangers fingers probing her wet pussy, smearing her juice up to her asshole. Gawd…he was going to fuck her asshole?! She wanted to yell, to cry to her Master, but she’d been told to obey and she was so well-trained.

A thick finger poked into her tailpipe.

She moaned, and Cowboy pressed hard against her lips, popping the head of his dick into her mouth. She thought fleetingly of struggle, even knowing it was impossible; but as Cowboys cock filled her mouth, pressed toward the back of her throat, all she could focus on was breathing.

He took advantage of that,  sliding  a second finger into her ass. Pushing, stretching, twisting, he loosened her reluctant butthole. In one fluid, forceful motion, he slid his fingers out and his cock in. He might have been an older guy, but he had experience on his side, and his cock slid home in two strokes.

She moaned around the cock in her throat, making Cowboy groan. “oh HOT baby, so fuckin’ hot, your lil whore mouth, cm’mmmmmmon whore, suck it suck it.” He pulled out, slamming roughly back into her face, his fingers tangled in her hair. Spit glued hair to her cheeks, irritating. She could barely breathe, and her ass was on fire as she was taken from opposite ends, simultaneously.

Her Master was nearby, she knew, but she trembled from the stranger fucking. Fantasy blurred under realities relentless  onslaught. Her ass stretched, accepting, her throat gagged, but her tongue lapped each time the shaft in her mouth pulled out.

And she needed to cum.

His voice surrounded her.

“My fuckin’ lil whore, look at you, taking two strange dicks in your slutty dirty holes. My dirty nasty whore, look at you….you need to cum all over the place don’t you, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then cum, whore, cum for your Master!”

She spurted, her pussy convulsing, as tears of relief, pain, ecstasy, lust coursed down her face.

When they were done, they collapsed into a pile of mixed bodies.

He helped their guests out of the truck, watching them weave their way back into the bar.

He watched as they stopped to collect the drunk who had collapsed. Poor bastard, wait until they told him what he’d missed out on.

He untied her hands from the rod in the truck, but kept them bound. He hefted her over his shoulder, and pushed her into the passenger seat of the truck.

Putting the truck into gear, he headed home with a big smile on his face.

“Daddy’s turn next, slut,” He crooned at her. She was a delightful mess, makeup in ruins, body bare and showing signs of bruises already.

She was so fucking perfect!