Hired! ~12~

“Where r u?”

“Really. Where r u?”

“I’m getting pissed here. It’s almost 10!! I have to pee so bad!”

“I haven’t had my coffee yet, it’s barely 10 and it’s Saturday. Sleep. zzzz”

“BTW…it’s “badly”

“You said….wait…wtf? badly?? what the hell? are you talking about?”

“You said quote: I need to pee so bad.”

“So?”

“It’s bad English. It should be badly. It’s an adverb.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m not correting grmmr orspelling on saturday, specilly with textingwhen I gots to peeeeee…”

“There’s never a bad time for good grammar.”

“OMFG are you even kidding me now? NOW??”

“You said you’d be over early. Yes you did. Where the FUCK are you?”

“It isn’t on my calendar. Oh, wait, I don’t have a life manager anymore. Sorry.”

“R U even kidding? I NEED TO PEE!!”

“You said that already. Better grammar the first time, though.”

“aaaAAARRGGHHH!”

“MY EYEBALLS R TURNING YELLOW I NEED TO PEE SO BAD–LY”

“Asshole”

“The belt has holes in it. Go pee.”

“Eeeeewwww…That’s so gross. It’s going to be all against me and…and…brb…”

“zzzzzzzzz”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“You did NOT just fall back to sleep. I was barely gone 10 minutes. I figured it out.”

“Huzzah.”

“zzzzzzz was too sleeping”

“?”

“figured what out?”

“Kat.”

“KAT”

“wut?”

“WTF?”

“WTF….? wut?”

“what is WUT?”

“*eyeroll*”

“WUT means eyeroll? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“Say it out loud.”

“It.”

“Still means nothing.”

“*EYEROLL*”

“Wut?”

“Jerkface.”

“I can hear you giggling.”

“Real doms don’t giggle.”

“Real doms don’t let their subs suffer needing to…oh. Wait.”

“Wut?”

“funny. not funny.”

“I dunno K, it seems rather hilarious to me.”

“Was your bladder throbbing?”

“Duh. YES!”

“I DID need to pee desperately.”

“I like that word. Desperately.”

“Are you really still in bed? Aren’t you lonely?”

“Nah. I have the phone with you texting me like every 12 seconds.”

“No time to be lonely.”

“Or sleep”

“I’m still horny.”

“Oh, I should hope so. Just stay in bed and imagine all the wicked things I plan to do with you. Or maybe not.”

“Wait…maybe…not? WTF?”

“Well, I was thinking on the drive home last night.”

“Oh, is *that* why I heard fire trucks? Set your hair on fire thinking, did you?”

“cute. Remember I have weapons of ass destruction and know how to use them, little girl.”

“smug smile…promises promises”

“Right, well, that was my point. I need a manager in my office…and you’re the best I’ve had in a long time.”

“I want to rehire you. Pizza tie notwithstanding, you’re damn good”

“at your job. When you can control your temper.”

” **!**”

“What was that?”

“My middle finger.”

“charming.”

“So, as I said, I want you back. But there’s a significant issue.”

“I went on the date with you. The tie is paid off.”

“oh, not the tie.”

“geeze. WHAT? I can’t even…”

“You said no sex with your boss. I’d be your boss.”

“I did say that. I say many things.”

“Right, and it would be terribly cruel of me to put that kind of pressure on you.”

“You’re a sadist. You said so.”

“You thrive on cruel, remember?”

“True, very much so. But to make you so uncomfortable…it seems unkind, even for me.”

“So…if I take the job offer, you’re not coming over to…”

“to…what?”

“To finshis what yuo srtated.”

“Are you agitated, little girl? I see your spelling is an issue when you are..”

“Agitated? I’M PISSED! And horny!”

“Well, that’s why the belt is so good…you can keep wearing it and I can..”

“?”

“?”

“can what?”

“where are you now? geeze I hate when you just bloop off…”

“I’m going to lay here and make up dirty songs with you in them. And make fun of you.”

“JERKFACE JACKSON WHERE ARE YOU?”

“sing that to the ‘scooby doo’ themesong…”

“Hey…don’t bust scooby do… what’s the matter?”

“when you go it’s cutsomary to say brb or something.”

“oh. I don’t text often. My fingers are tired.”

“poor baby. NOT! Geeze, so go on…”

“I had to pee. Go on with what?”

“our conversation? scroll back to remind yourself. The belt?”

“which one..I have several..”

“MY BELT. the one you stuck on me!”

“oh, that belt. Right. Well, if you keep wearing it, I can give the key”

“to someone else. ask them to hold it. Maybe even my safe deposit box.”

“in Baltimore.”

“Wait just aminte. youwanna lock me up and put the fucking key in BALTIMORE???WTF??”

“Well, it was a suggestion. I could leave it with the valet.”

“And tell him what? ‘here’s my key for my sluts cunt?”

“Oh, I like that. He would, too, I suspect.”

“BTW, your spelling is terrible!”

“No. No no noononononon.”

“Just no.”

“Well, okay. It was a suggestion. We can keep it here at my place.”

“NO TO THE FUCKING BELT.”

“I rescind my words that I won’t ever fuck my boss again. I take it back.”

“DO-OVER!!”

“ally-ally-in-come-free”

“I didn’t get that last one.”

“jeezuz furking crisco”

“My eyes are fucking rolling in my  head and r gona pop OUT”

“Dint you ever play hide n seek as a kid? Were you ever a kid?”

“SMH”

“LOL”

“So…let me clarify.”

“You don’t care if I’m your boss.”

“Because you’ll fuck me anyway.”

“Good so far?”

“Y E S”

“And we’ll be play.partners and I can torture you.”

” Y E S”

“And that will kind of make you my “sexretary”…?”

“NFW”

“?”

“No. Fucking. Way”

“Right.”

“Frist, not a secretary. Manager. second. It’s sounds so totally STUPID.”

“so? I like the sound of it. It trips off my tongue.”

“Grumble. Stupid. Grumple. I’ll trip your tongue.”

“Is that the business manager talking? Not my submissive, surely?”

“My name’s Kat. Don’t call me Shirley.”

“That joke is older than dirt.”

“still funny tho”

“ha.  ha.  no.”

“giggling”

“eyeroll”

“are you coming over?”

“I’m standing outside your door. Let me in, Kat.”

 

 

 

 

 

Hired! ~11~

Time moved, she was certain of it. Yet she couldn’t say if 5 minutes had passed, or 50. She felt the warm leather of his crop between her thighs, and wished he were there to use it on her. She was needy, uncomfortable, and half naked for crissakes! Facing the rustic wooden wall, her tits and ass exposed, she was flushed with embarrassment. Eventually even that faded during those interminable, unknown minutes. Behind her she could hear people moving around the cavernous room. She could hear those who were otherwise engaged in play. There were slaps and *tings* of implements striking flesh, closely followed by shockingly loud screams as the recipient responded. There were moans and whimpers and the sounds of those in deepest ecstasy.

What she didn’t hear was his footfall. No sound of those beautifully polished shoes coming towards her. How was this even a date, she wondered, feeling suddenly angry. It happened that way sometimes, the submission and the annoyance jockeying for position in her emotions. Her hands felt numb, and her back was tiring when she felt the warmth of hands on her back…and ass.

“Ohh, poor kitten…he left you here all alone and unattended,” crooned a sexy and female voice. “So pretty, this round ass of yours..” the voice trailed off as a long fingernail scratched lightly down her crack and circled her anus. There was a slight tug around her throat as the ends of the tie were pulled taut for a moment, before more fingernails scrabbled down her spine. She wasn’t sure if it was the lack of his attention, or just that those sharp fingernails hit the line between pleasure and pain. The voice continued, the owner clearly knowing that she was having an affect on the tied submissive. One nail trailed up and over her left ass cheek, scratching just hard enough to leave a thin, red line there. Goosebumps rose along her shoulders, her arms, and her nipples crinkled tightly.

“I–I’m waiting for him, t-to…” she stopped on a gasp as the fingernails pinched a piece of flesh where her ass and thighs met.

“I know, that hurts so much, doesn’t it honey?” The voice was husky now, clearly lapping up the subtle signs of pain;  Kat’s arching back, her in-drawn breath, the short pants as she released it against the hurting.

The pinch seemed to last an hour. The relief when the nails released her was nearly as intense as the pain had been, as was the sudden surge of moisture between her thighs.

“Mona,” a deep voice said, the tone admonishing. “Didn’t MamaLa have a conversation with you about poaching?”

There was a pouty “mmm” of sullen agreement.  “But Dirk…! You weren’t here. She looked so lonely, the poor thing. And there was that very pretty ass just begging to be touched..how could I resist?

“Resist,” he replied drolly.

“I’m resisting… authority…” she said with a husky chuckle.”Okay, fine, have it your way, you big greedy bastard.”

The soft sound of her feet moving off gave some measure of peace to Kat.

“You left me,” she accused. Her hair had fallen forward, obscuring her vision.

“Yeah, so?”

He moved beside her, then freed her arms from the iron ring on the wall. Though she tried to hold back the gasp, the blood flowing back to her hands and cramped shoulders made being silent impossible.

“Oh, owww,” she whimpered.

“Poor little kitty cat,” he mocked, all falsely sympathetic as he brushed the hair from her face. He leaned close, kissed her top lip, nipped at her eyebrow. She moaned again. damn him. The last semblance of her snark was fading fast, under a hot and heavy need. She wondered if she’d ever been so horny. Feeling his hands on her breasts, she tried to move closer, but was surprised to feel the fabric of her dress being tugged back up to cover her. In moments he had slid the crop from between her thighs, then pulled down the hem of her dress, covering her bottom. She blinked at him, not comprehending his game.

Taking the tie from around her neck, he bound her wrists, then led her by the trailing length of his tie across the room. They paused for a moment to watch a submissive. Her face was a portrait of beautiful agony as her master nailed her tits to a rough wooden board. Katherine shuddered at the thought of it, but the woman was obviously far gone in subspace. She could see the puddle forming on the floor between her legs; it was obviously a kink that worked for them.

“Interested?” he asked, pulling her attention from the scene.

“No,” she replied. His grin was devilish, managing to be both mocking and humorous. Only a Dom would find that sort of thing funny, she mused. By damn he was one sexy bastard when he smiled. And when he didn’t. 

Damn.

She was hooked.

He tugged her “leash” and she was obliged to follow him. He slowed to watch a leather-clad woman bullwhip a burly man. His cock was locked in a cage, his nipples cruelly pegged. As he shuddered beneath a snapping blow, she clearly saw the back end of a plug up his bum. It made her wet, which surprised her. His cock twitched with every whip-stroke, and she felt an answering tingle in her clit.

“You seem very…interested,” he said in a low voice.

“He’s…amazing. So is she,” she replied, equally quiet.

“Mistress Dominica is a master of the whip. Shall I sign you up for one of her classes?”

She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not, so she shook her head.

“If you’re sure…” his voice trailed off as the sub roared out a yell when the tip of the whip hit just near his balls. “Well, that had to hurt,” he said, cupping a hand over his groin and making her almost giggle out loud.

“Stop,” she hissed, but she grinned as he made a faux scared face at her, still cupping himself. He tugged her onward.

She frowned as they left the play room, entering the bar. What the hell was he up to now?

*************************

Not only had he ushered her through the bar and outside, but he’d led her to his car, all but shoved her in, hands still tied, and belted her safety belt. He’d driven her home with no conversation whatsoever, which made her curious. Her tits were tender from his earlier slap-fest, but her clit pounded like it was a gong.

She needed to be fucked. She needed to cum. She wanted.

Wanted.

Damn him for stirring her up like this. She fidgeted in her seat. She caught just the faintest hint of a grin on his mouth; no, not even a grin, just the sexy upturn on one corner.

“Where are we going?”

The smile deepened. Thank gods above and below, she thought. He’s taking me home to fuck me there. 

He pulled into her driveway, parked, then came around to let her out. Releasing her hands, he slipped the tie loosely around her neck. Arm around her back, he led her upstairs, took her key and opened her door. Stepping inside, she all but threw herself at him, pulling his head down and kissing him fervently.

He tugged her dress down, then off. Helping her step free of it, he held up his hand to forestall her.

“Go to the bathroom.”

“Now?” she all but moaned.

“No, tomorrow. Yes, of course now. Do you  need me to assist you? Watch you?”

“Oh hell no!” 

She scurried to the bathroom, used the toilet quickly. Looking at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, she noted the bruises already blushing along her breasts.  She felt weak in the knees. Oh gods, she so needed this.

He was leaning against the dining room wall, pulling the tie absently through his fingers. Shyly she walked towards him, she naked as the day she was born, he, so well dressed in his suit. Straightening, he gestured to her to come.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the floor in front of him. “Good girl, now turn.”

She presented her back to him as instructed. What was coming? Her heart was all fluttery in her chest, her nipples grew taut. When he tapped her inner thigh, she spread her feet wider. She felt something between her thighs…the cool silk of his tie. He pulled it forward and back, teasing her clit for a moment.

“Hold the ends,” he said, and she took them, one in front, one behind, holding them. It took all her willpower to not rub it against her clit, but he hadn’t indicated to do so, and she didn’t want to push it.

“I picked this up at the club, while watching your delightful ass from across the room. Several of my friends were hoping that I’d share you, you know. You made such a pretty picture there, vulnerable, yet wanting.”

The shiver of need ran up and down her spine. A fresh drool from her pussy was soaked up by his tie.

“But I declined. After all, you and I hardly know one another. 13 working days, and one evening run-in hardly qualifies as getting to know you, right?”

She nodded, glad he hadn’t shared her. So wrapped up in the thoughts of that, that she didn’t notice at first, the heavy metal belt he fastened around her waist.

“Open wider, slut.”

Her legs spread, and a thick metal spine was pressed against her pussy. She jolted at the chill of it. There was a click at her backside. His fingers slid under the front of the band.

“Your pussy is so fucking hot,” he murmured. “Wet, juicy, I’ll bet you need to cum, don’t you?”

“oh, yesss,” she moaned, pressing against his probing fingers. Then they were gone, and a second click sealed the band firmly between her legs.

“No cumming tonight, I’m afraid.”

He lifted his fingers to her mouth.

“Taste that. Taste that needy cunt juice. Yours, little girl. Your needy cunt is going to leak all night, I’m afraid. I’ll be back in the morning to release you so that you can pee.”

He slid the tie from under the crotch band as she stared in shock at him.

“Wait…what? What?? YOU….you…you can’t… ” she yelped. “I…I need….”

“..to wait until I decide it’s time for you to come. Just…be careful what you wish for, little girl. I am a sadist, after all.”

He tied her wrists quickly with the tie, binding them firmly but not so tight that it would be harmful.

“Tonight you will sleep, smelling your arousal all night long. Your pussy will ache and weep and …eventually, you will sleep, and dream of all the wonderful, awful, delightful torments I will do to you.”

He kissed her on her nose, then pushed her into her room, closed the door. Quietly, he let himself out of the apartment, heaving a deep sigh. His cock throbbed. He patted his crotch as he jogged down the steps.

“Soon, my raging friend. Soon.”

His cock knew it would not be soon enough for either of them.

Perverted Pleasures (6)

You never know what you’re gonna find when you go trolling through your “Drafts” folder…I found this gem, from 2 years ago. It’s not finished … yet. But I was in the mood for a hot fucking story…and maybe you are, too? ~nilla~

 

(This never gets old… ~n~)

She splashed through ankle deep water for three steps before it fully registered that she was splashing through water.

In her kitchen.

In the dark pre-dawn hours, she struggled to bring her mind around to what the fuck was going on. No coffee. No light. No dry floor. Backtracking, she stepped once. Twice. Shivered hard, then stepped onto the living room carpet. Sodden carpet. Turning, she stepped forward until she found dryness underfoot. Snapping on the lamp next to the couch she winced, slapping her hands over her burning eyes.

“Goddam!” she yelped. “I’ve fucking blinded myself. Finally brave enough to peer through slatted fingers, she could clearly see a current in the kitchen. The sound of hissing came from the corner of the counter where the dishwasher lived. Cautiously she moved back into the splash zone.

“Oh fuck. Goddam it to fucking hell and fucking back!”

Blue tiles floated or lay skewed on the bottom of the pond that had been her kitchen floor when she’d gone to bed last night. Now it resembled Lake Holyfuck. Stupefied, she stared at the mess. How the hell did one even begin to cope with this? she wondered. She wished she was not alone having to deal with this. That she’d married and had three kids and a dog and maybe a hamster. Then she could share the load of shock and awe and horror with someone. But no, this was all hers.

She made her way to the cellar door, but couldn’t open it. Too much water against it or maybe too swollen from it. Who knew. It was time to call for help.

A quick trolling of the online yellow pages located three plumbers in her area–she called them all. Leaving urgent pleas for help on each machine didn’t resolve this current issue.

“Looks like we’re not going to work today, boys and girls,” she muttered. Splashing into the thick of things she took a pan from the wall and started bailing. Ten minutes into frantic scooping and her phone startled her with the crescendo from the 1812 Overature. Grabbing it up, she very nearly dropped it, but caught it in slippery hands.

“You’ve got a problem, sounds pretty epic.”

“You have no idea,” she said, hating the edgy panic in her tone.

He asked for her address, and promised he’d be there in 20 minutes. Skeptically, she hung up the phone and started bailing again. Sure he’d be here in twenty minutes. No one ever came when they said they would. She was twelve minutes into bailing when she heard the unmistakable sound of a truck in her driveway. Knocking came seconds later at her front door. Good thing, too. If he’d come to the back door he might have been swept away from the current of water that would race out, like in some cartoon she’d seen once.

“Hi. I’m Kevin.”

“No. No, you’re an angel from god. My savior. My hero.”

He bent to lift a battered red box, a motherfucking huge box from the porch floor, then followed her inside.

“Well, whoa. You certainly have a problem.”

“Well there’s an understatement,” she said dryly. “Sorry. I haven’t had my coffee even.”

“Best to not use any electric in here for now. We have no idea what got wet…this is a lot of water. Be right back.”

Sooner than she would have thought possible, the water level began to lower. He’d set up a pump thingy, then showed her how to vacuum up the puddles. Once the floor was clearer, he disappeared under the sink. She had a really great view of his ass, just a hint of crack, as he worked under there. There was a soft curse, then a louder ‘motherfucker!’  and then, silence.

The hissing had stopped.

He eased out from under the sink.

“Got that little bugger.”

“I thought you called it a mother fucker.”

He smiled. With his whole face, he smiled, but his eyes just mesmerized. She didn’t want to stare, but damn she was staring. She looked away, looked down, feeling the heat of a blush rising. Dang it! He was really fucking se…wait…what?

With a blink she stared into the toolbox. There was no mistaking the bright red ballgag in one of the compartments, nor the black eye mask. She cleared her throat.

“So…uhm…that thingy watchadoo…you turned it off. Can you fix it?”

“Nope. Your dishwasher basically crapped out.”

She looked at him, and knew, she just knew that he had seen her looking at the sex toys. The look he gave her was challenging.

“So…you don’t fix dishwashers.”

“Nope. Just the plumbing. And other things. Naughty little girls.”

His hand was in her hair, tugging her head back. She yelped, then gasped as his big hand circled her throat. He looked down at her, his eyes boring into hers. Somewhere she’d lost the power of speech, of fight. Maybe it was his fingers woven through her long, bed-tangled locks, or maybe it was fear, or maybe it was something else. Something dark, with a longing that tore at her civilized manners, a beast seeking freedom.

“Wh..”

“Hush. You’re really in no position to ask anything now.”

He bent quickly, scooping up the ball gag. His tersely spoken ‘open’ was quickly obeyed. There was that look in his eyes again. It said ‘danger’…and something else she wasn’t certain of yet.

The blindfold slid over her eyes moments after he’d fastened the gag tightly. A push between her shoulder blades made her stumble forward. Another push, another stumble. Disoriented, she had absolutely no idea which direction she was headed, until her knees hit the bed and she fell forward.

“Don’t fucking move.” 

There were sounds behind her. Drawers opened, then closed. He was searching for something. Then quiet until his hand slapped at her ass.

“Up, on your back.”

She didn’t move, feeling defiant. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the sharp slap of what was unmistakably a belt upon her bottom made her yelp. She would have moved then, would have leapt upon the bed, but his hand clamped hard on the back of her neck, holding her down as he other hand slapped her ass, her thighs. The light cotton of her pajama bottoms did nothing to alleviate the burning sting. Her ass was hot, her mouth squealing around the gag with every blow. She didn’t want to cry, but couldn’t stop; the pain was too much, too hard to bear.

“The next time I tell you to move, you move.”

She nodded fiercely, yes, even though his fingernail scraped the back of her neck with each jerky nod. He all but tossed her up on the bed then, flipping her roughly onto her back. Her ass screamed at the movement. She felt fingers on her skin, the brush of air on her thighs as he removed her bottoms. There was a moment when she thought one more time of trying to flee, but the fear of what would happen when he caught her–and she had no doubt that he would catch her–was greater than her confidence that she could escape.  Her camisole was ripped in half. It was both thrilling and terrifying.  Hands clamped on her tits, squeezing hard, pinching her nipples, then slapping them.

A quick whoosh of sound, of air, and the sharp stinging slap as he used the belt on her left tit drew another muffled scream from behind the gag. She tried to clamp her legs together but his fingers pressed against her slit.

“You’re a fucking noisy thing. Not that I mind. I like the sounds…sexy, hot, makes me want to hurt you more. And your cunt is wet. Your mouth may be protesting, but your pussy is slick and begging for attention.”

Shaking her head no did no good. His fingers twisted and twined their way inside her, violated the empty space, filling her.

“You are fucking sopping wet–as wet as your kitchen floor. Whore. Dirty little whore, needs a good reaming by her plumber. Lucky for you I brought a big plunger with me.”

He moved away, but his hands were quick and firm, lifting her leg, grabbing her wrist, tying her with…her own fucking pantyhose. The way she must look, wrists tied to knees, knees held apart somehow, leaving her deepest secret places exposed and open for him. She should be fucking terrified. She was terrified. But neither could she deny that there was an element of dark turn-on here, too.

 

 

Hired! ~8~

If she thought that he was going to haul her up off of the floor and onto the bed, she was delusional, he thought, straightening his tie in her bedroom mirror. She’d slipped into the bathroom to ‘freshen up’, girlspeak for pissing, he guessed.

Looking around at the explosion of clothing in her room, he eyeballed the bed. OH, yeah, he definitely thought about fucking her brains out, but in this room? Though he was not a neat freak, he was afraid someone would quite possibly put an eye out on some of the garments strewn about. He gave her points for her bed being made.

His eyes narrowed. Her bed was made. The only clothing thrown higgley piggly about the room was sexy clothing. A wide smile broke like dawn across his face. Sexy clothing. Everywhere. She wasn’t just nervous about dating her boss, she wanted to look sexy for him.

As he’d jokingly ordered her.

Well now, wasn’t that a kick in the arse? The smile slid away as he heard the toilet flush. There was no point in rubbing it in her face. Yet. All things in good time, as was said. Sliding his hands in his pockets, he moved to the living room to wait for her.

“I suppose your reservations are ruined. Sorry.”

yeah right, sorry not sorry,  she thought as she stepped into view.

“No indeed. I called ahead to bump up our time. We’re good.”

“Oh, great,” she said with patently false enthusiasm.

“Let’s go then, shall we?”

“shall we” she muttered under her breath, but of course he was all eagle-eared and heard it.

“Tsk tsk. Mocking your boyfriend isn’t nice.”

“You are NOT my boyfriend. This is a debt to be paid.”

“Ah, So…you won’t get any enjoyment out of the evening then. Shall I take you to a burger joint and get you fries and a shake instead of steak and caviar?”

“I don’t like caviar. Too salty.” In truth, she’d never had any.

“Uh huh,” he replied, taking her arm. “Let’s go, Kat, and stop stalling.”

As if to emphasize the point, his stomach rumbled and she laughed. “Even your stomach has to add its two cents?” she laughed, poking his belly with her elbow as she slipped into her shoes.

“Hmm,” was his only reply as he watched her body move in interesting ways under the dress. “Nice shoes.”

“Hmm,” she mocked him.

“This could be a long evening.”

“Or a short one,” she retorted. “You could get sick of me and take me home early.”

He just smiled that smirky-face smile and held the door for her.

***********************************************

The restaurant was quiet and elegant. Subtle wait staff, fine wine, snowy linens. There was some soft music playing at the edges of her hearing, but she was drawn again and again to his face. He laughed. He teased. He gestured with his silverware. He stole her food, and plopped some of his on her plate, then laughed when her eyes rolled at him.

The waiter removed their dishes, and he ordered ice cream for dessert.

“What, no chocolate cake?”

“Don’t want you weighed down with all that in your belly when we go dancing.”

“Dancing?!” Her voice squeaked. “You never said a thing about that?”

“How neglectful of me.”

In truth, he didn’t look apologetic at all. Then again, it wasn’t really an apology. Her brows furrowed as she stared at him. He looked back at her, eyes dancing, chin resting in his palm. Daring her. He was silently needling her and she was not going to fall for it. Letting her breath out slowly, she smiled at him.

“Okay.”

If she’d hoped to fuddle him, she failed. He just smiled and leaned back as their ice cream was served. When the waiter left, he gestured with his spoon.

“Eat.”

Dom voice.

She ate.

************************************************************

She stood beside him as they waited for their coats. Her back straightened, shoulders back, and shot him a look when his hand slid over the curve of her ass.

“What. Was. That.”

“My hand.”

Gritting her teeth, she looked up at him.

“I know it was your hand.”

“Why did you ask? Did you think it was my foot?”

There was that deep breath again, in, out, in, out. She was not going to let him goad her. Pizza and temper had gotten her into this mess, and calm was going to get her home in her bed alone in a little bit. She was not going to let him poke her into flaring at him.

“I was sure it wasn’t your foot, because that is firmly planted…”

“yes?”

That smirk, again. So help her god, she was going to…breathe, breathe…

“on the floor.  Why was your hand on my butt?”

“Why?”

“Yes.”

“Well, sometimes hands have a mind of their own. It’s a very curvy ass.”

“You’re calling me …fat?”

“Curvy. In all the right places. I’m not into stick figure women, Kat.”

“Oh, so all I need to do to get you to leave me alone is go on a diet?”

He laughed. He was so fucking outrageously sexy when he laughed like that. All-in, that was how he expressed his joy. Head back, lips smiling, the total abandon of his guffaws made her smile.

Except, she wasn’t going to smile and encourage him.

He flicked a finger down her cheek.

“So serious. Yet, a lovely ass. I doubt if anything you did could discourage me…other than saying ‘no’. No is acceptable…if you are truly uncomfortable with me.”

Considering the current climate, it was a decent thing for him to say. And truthfully, he wasn’t forcing  her to do any of this. He may have tweaked her into it, but she was honest enough to admit that she was…kind of…sort of…maybe enjoying his company.

At least he wasn’t her boss, so that bridge was gone downriver.

She leaned close.

“I could fart.”

“One assumes so, yes. Amazingly enough, so do I.”

“I could have spinach between my teeth.”

“Nope, clear.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“You didn’t have spinach at dinner.”

“Well, I didn’t have it today.”

“Oh.” That gave him pause.

“Well, that might preclude me kissing you…but since I already have, I can confidently say that you do not, nor did you earlier, have spinach between your teeth.”

She laughed. He loved the way her entire face lit up when she really let herself go. This was becoming a very enjoyable evening, and yet the best was yet to come. No pun intended.

He leaned close again.

“How about, before the coats come, you jot into that restroom and remove your panties for me?”

Her mouth fell open, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed, before leaning up to his ear. Coming towards them was the hostess with their jackets in hand. She held his arm to brace herself as she rose to tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“I can’t do that!”

He looked down at her, and grinned that heart-melting, devilish grin.

“Sure you can,” he said, normal voiced.

On tiptoe again, she tugged him down lower to her mouth by his tie.

“I can’t,” she whispered, sounding breathless. He had to admit that the sound of her voice, and the wisp of her warm breath against his ear was a two-pronged turn on.

“You can.”

“But I can’t,” she said again, then swirled her tongue around his ear, the cheeky witch!

“I’m not wearing any.”

 

 

Hired! ~7~

She opened her mouth to speak, but his finger pressed against her lips, quieting her.

“Don’t argue just for the sake of arguing,” he cautioned. “We both know how much you’d hate eating your own words.”

He didn’t just remove his finger. Oh, that would have been far too simple, she thought. She felt pissy thinking it, and tried to figure out where that was coming from. Self-examination before going out with Mr. Dangerous? Weird, but likely necessary. It seemed silly, okay, stupid to be holding onto a work-grudge. And yet he had  figuratively tied her hands there, holding her back from doing all but the most mundane and trivial work that even a gopher could have accomplished.  Still, the curl of lust in her belly could not be denied as that finger slipped down her chin, then raised it. His eyes practically ate her, she thought, her heart fluttering nervously. He moved closer still, then his lips brushed lightly across hers.

“Okay,” he said, a smile on his face, “let’s be off, shall we?” and he lightly smacked her bottom. She jumped, the spell he’d woven around her broken.

No. Not broken. Enhanced.

Still, she wasn’t ready to get into a sexual haze with her boss, version 2.0. Been there, done that, ripped up the tee-shirt,  she thought.

“You’re frowning already.”

Shaking herself, she tried to find a snappy retort, but she found herself unable to find one that seemed appropriate.

“I’m trying to decide what to wear. As a jacket.”

“Well, choose quickly, as our reservation time is approaching.”

Quickly, she opened the coat closet, where order ruled, and grabbed her short leather jacket. It would pair nicely with her outfit.

“Ready,” she said.

“I think you’ve forgotten something.”

“I have my purse here, my jacket…you’re here, so….” she looked at him like he was mentally deficient, he thought.

“Is going out barefoot the new thing?” he mused.

“Oh HELL!” she said, then giggled. “Okay, you win. I’ll go get shoes.”

She dashing into her bedroom and paused. Shit, she’d almost forgotten the unholy mess in here.

“Dear. God.”

She turned to find a look of shock and perhaps horror on his face.

“Katherine…” he said, his voice trailing away as he took in the enormity of the mess.

“No. No, go away. You didn’t see this. It never happened. I mean, never. It’s one date, and you’ll never have to witness this ever again.”

She pushed him back, but he was like a brick wall.

“Well, we’ll debate that later, but what the hell happened in here? It looks like you threw your very own panty party in here. Or a rave. Or whatever the hell they call it these days. This…from my tidy, organized, everything-in-it’s-place  Katherine? I…it…” he ran a hand over his hair, then looked at her, and laughed. “You’re a fucking slob at home, Ms. TidyPants.”

“I am NOT,” she retorted, her cheeks flushing. She shoved at him again.

“Oh, only all this evidence to the contrary,” he guffawed, his hand swinging around to take in the entirety of the room.

“Shut. Up. Mr. Jerkface Jackson.” Teeth gritted she began pushing him in earnest. “Out. Shoes. Go.”

She darted to the open closet door, and grabbed the first pair of black shoes in there. She knew they were the right ones because those had not been affected by the Attack of  First Date Syndrome. Darting back to the door, her foot caught in a bra strap, the other caught in a cup. When she tried to shake it off, she stepped on the boning of the her corset, and yelped. Hopping on one foot, she immediately slid across a silk teddy, and wound up flailing along the side of her bed, until she fell. She landed face first. Burying  her face deeper into the pile of crap on her bed, she moaned.

His footfalls moved across the room. Carefully and slowly, she noted, so he wouldn’t step on her shit. She didn’t want him to get any closer so she tried to shoo him away.

“I’m not ever getting up from here. I’m not ever going to look at you, or remember that you exist in the world. Go away and leave me to die in my embarrassment.”

Her hands made flopping motions at him, as if to wave goodbye.  Her voice, muffled by the pile of clothing and blankets on the bed, came out as a wail. His laughter clearly carried to her, however.

Damn him.

He kept laughing. He laughed so hard that he tried to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, but he slipped on a silk charmeuse robe, rolling right down the side of the bed to land on his butt on the floor beside her legs.

And still he laughed, the dumb ass.

“ohmygawd,” she moaned, but a giggle escaped.

He gulped air, coughed, as he laughed even harder, then tugged on her leg until she fell down beside him.  He had tears in his eyes from laughing, the rotten cur!

“Stop laughing,” she laughed.

“Can’t,” he laughed.

Later, she was never sure how long they sat there in the destruction of her room, but they were both exhausted, sides aching, when they finally ran out of giggles.

 

 

Hired! ~5~

Friday featured yet another sparring match with her boss. Sometimes he was so exasperating! He nit-picked over the stupidest shit, and she suspected  he did it to on purpose to annoy her. Her temper was fierce.  It had taken her years to  learn to keep it under strict control, and now she was so close to exploding that she made the unprecedented decision to leave at lunch time, rather than eating at her desk.

Thankfully, the atrium was deserted. All his other pawns must still be grinding through another pissy Friday noon thanks to the boss, she mused. Soothed by simply removing herself from the cause of her stress – one Mr. Lance Jackson- she felt herself almost melting into the stone she sat upon. The splash of the fountain behind her, the sun on her upturned face really was helping her mood.  A shadow fell across her face and she frowned.

“This is a lovely place for lunch. I’m glad I thought to have it built.”

The voice came from directly in front of her. And of course it belonged to the one person she was most trying to avoid.

“Of course, it doesn’t appear that you’re actually eating, so here.”

There was a sound of rustling paper, and the sharply tangy scent of fresh pizza. Opening her eyes, she found a fat slice almost up her nose.

“Really?” she said, the exasperation clear. “Even out here? Really?”

He looked at her, head cocked to the side, a slight puzzled smile on his face. Because surely it wasn’t a smirk. Because surely if it was, she was about to wipe it off of his smirkity smirky face…with that slice of pizza.

“Eat,” he said in that voice, and her hand lifted to take the pizza before she could stop herself.

“Stop it. Just…stop.”  But she spoiled the rebuke by taking a large bite of the pizza.

“I get grumpy when I’m hungry too. Eat,” he said again, though not in the Dom-voice. She jumped to her feet, waving the pizza about wildly. Chewing the over-large glob of pizza, she thought about spitting it into his pristine fountain. She took a look at his face. He was amused. It was that…that tolerantly amused expression that did her in. With a hard swallow, she advanced upon him.

“Grumpy?”

“GRUMPY?”

Shouting now, the pizza near to becoming a projectile, she glared at him. All the temper that she’d held in check since leaving Wichita boiled up and spewed forth.

“You BET I’m grumpy, you jerk! Boss me around, poke at me for everything I have no control over because you forget to remind people of who the fuck I AM SO I’M FUCKING IMPOTENT IN MAKING DECISIONS TO HELP YOU…”

She turned and walked in a tight little circle, savagely biting the pizza before once more waving it in the air in an accusing fashion. Warily he watched a gobbet of cheese begin to slide around the crust as she all but shook it in his face.

“Help you? Like I can help you by just buzzing people in or out, putting out fires that you leave in your wake like a frigging forest fire run amok. You have no CONCEPTION of the idea of how to get things done in a timely and orderly fashion, BUT I DO! And yet you continually handcuff me in my efforts to GET SOME ACTUAL WORK DONE!”

“What an interesting idea,” he murmured.

“WHAT? What?” She was in full rage now, her face red, her blue eyes flashing like the sharp edge of a blade. He thought he’d never seen a more beautiful creature than this woman in full-on temper!

“Handcuffing you. It’s something you like after all,right?”

“You BASTARD! So, you and he DID have a conversation about our being…”

She paused, not thinking of a suitable word for fuck buddies. Because they hadn’t really ever been in it for the booty call, she and Alex. No, her former boss had been her Dom, her sexual partner, her top, her tormentor- so much more than mere ‘fuck buddies’.

“I know about you and your former boss, remember? It came up after our first interview when I thought you were Naomi, remember? Take a breath, now, Katherine. You’re overwrought with temper.” He held her shoulders, looked deeply into her eyes as her breath came in short, rough gulps.

Incoherence was the final stage of her rage, and it burst through her with white-hot fury.  She smashed the pizza against his shirt, then turned and fled the atrium when he reached up to peel it off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, that was your shortest job on record,”  Savannah, ever pragmatic spoke softly in Kat’s ear. She knew all too well about her best friend’s terrible temper, and how she worked to keep her cool.

“Yeah, well, whatever. I think I should…” There was a pause before Katherine could continue  “…move home. I’ve really fucked …” there was a short breath hitch, and Savannah bit her lip, wishing she could be there because what would come next was a crying jag every bit as fierce as the anger had been.

“Honey, don’t be blaming yourself. You have, you know, ever since Alex..”

“Alex was a misogynistic shithead,” Kat said, her voice quivering. Oh crap,  thought Savannah.  In the background was a chiming sound.

“Kitty, are you cooking something? I think your timer just went off and the last thing you need today is a kitchen fire!”

A weak chuckle came through the phone, and Savannah hoped it would break the cycle. If she could jag Kitty out of the rut, especially by laughing, it might be okay.

“It’s my doorbell, brb,” she said, dropping the phone on the table.

The voice was tinny, but Savannah could hear it nonetheless.

“Oh fuck,  it’s you.”

There was a long pause, the slam of a door, then the rustle as the phone was picked up.

“Kitty, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Mr. Jerkface is here- probably to tell me how much of my last check he’s going to usurp to pay for his spiffy tie that I pizza’d.”

The phone clicked off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. Jerkface?”

His voice was a sputter of sound.

“Yeah. Jerkface Jackson.”

He surprised her by laughing explosively. He held onto the wall and laughed so hard she began to think about braining him with a skillet.

“Are you quite done?” she said scathingly. “I mean, really, I’ve never seen anyone so amused at being called names.”

“Sticks ‘n stones, m’dear,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Got a tissue?”

She pointed to the bookcase where a box of them sat, but made no move to help him.

“So. How much do I owe you for the tie?”

“A date.”

“I no longer date my boss.”

“I’m not your boss. You quit today, remember?”

“I didn’t quit.”

“Sure you did.”

“No, I…”

“Yes, you…”

She glared at him, knowing he was almost as stubborn as she was. Fine, two could play at that game. She shifted topics.

“How much was that tie?”

“One hundred and fifty dollars.” He paused while she took that in, watched her try to not gulp in shock. “A date will cost you far less.”

“So you think.”

There was a pause when neither of them spoke. He waited her out, knowing that she’d break first, even without him ordering her. He didn’t want to have to order her; he wanted her to come of her own free will. He didn’t want her to throw that in his face at any point  throughout the evening he’d begun to plan once the shock of her abrupt departure this afternoon had abated.

The eyeroll was the first benchmark that she was folding. Her hip cocked, her shoulders fell from her ears, her mouth softened from snarl to pout.

“Fine. When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“But–I have plans…” she thought of MammaLa, and the club.

“Indeed you did…and still do. With me. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

He ran a finger down her nose, and smirked, damn him, before he turned and strode out the door. Before it shut all the way, he leaned back in.

“Dress sexy for me.”

The door closed with a quiet snick. He laughed when he heard the thunk of the tissue box hitting it, then turned and headed down to his car. He didn’t stop smiling all the way home.

 

 

 

 

Hired! ~4~

Nursing her rum and cola, she scanned the crowd. There were the usual suspects, she concluded. A D/s club in the middle states was largely the same, excepting that there were more masked guests back home. It wouldn’t do for Mr. Jones at the bank to be outed as a sub-puppy, after all. But here in the city where it felt like everyone was anonymous? No one wore a mask. There were leather clad folks, some very obvious Dom-types, subs in various forms of undress and bondage gear, and a few nondescript men and women. She called this latter group the “lookers”, and recognized ruefully that she was part of that group. No Dom to follow, no subsister to hang with, she was as adrift as the woman currently kneeling hopefully at the feet of a bare-chested man, who didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

She hated that.

Hated the posturing, the group of Tops who made subs feel abjectly worthless. It was one thing to be in a scene and being called a fuck hole, but to be ignored so blatantly just bugged the shit out of her, despite her personal motto of “fuck your own fuck”. Not to be all judgy about it, but it was definitely not her thing. At least now she knew which group of Doms to ignore.

“Refill, missy?” The buxom woman with a head full of amazing fine braids that fell to her waist leaned on the counter. “Or just some heads-up chat?”

“I’ll take the chat, please,” she replied with a smile.

MammaLa laid her hand over Kats, patting it gently.

“Newbie?” she asked.

“No, just new to the area. Finding my way, I guess. You think you can ignore the need, right?”

“But cha can’t, can you?” The woman shook her head slowly, back then forth. The waterfall of black, shiny braids danced with her every movement. “It’s like a hunger in the blood, girl-child. Oh, sure, you can push it down. Pretend it’s not there. But someday, when you will be most inconvenienced with it, you’ll suddenly see or hear or feel something and the horny need will rise up!”

“Yesss!”  Katherine all but moaned. She had tried to tamp it down. She’d given up her job, her apartment, her friends, her home, and run all this way to start over. To start over as a “normal” woman. Even though, deep in her core, she believed having these wanton needs was normal,  her normal,  but by societal standards? She was fucked up. And here she was, sitting in a D/s club. It appeared that denying “her normal” and trying to live by those rigid standards of propriety wasn’t going to work for her here, or anywhere. And it was most definitely inconvenient that the “do it” voice of her boss was the switch that had turned her back on.

“I’m glad you came in tonight, girl. I always love to chat with the new folks. Of course you said you weren’t new-new, but you know how I mean it.”

“I do. I just…well, truthfully, I just came out of a bad relationship. He wasn’t a good Dom, at least not to me. And I thought he was perfect…for a while. I just am afraid that once I get a taste of the pain, I’ll lose my head, you know?”

“So, you’re afraid of the fall…and afraid of what you find when you land, right? Tell me what you see here?” MammaLa gestured around the room. Her long, thick fingers were beautiful in motion, and for a passing moment Kat wished she was at least bi-sexual, just to feel those amazing digits on her body. She cleared her mind of that, then looked around the room again.

“I see all of them. Posers, and players, and wanters. I don’t see anyone I’d trust enough to touch me, at least not tonight.”

“You have a good eye on you, girl-child. Upstairs is where the serious folks are most nights. These folks are all looking for something that they haven’t found yet. Lucky for you, they haven’t looked over here to see you as fresh meat. If you come back on a weekend? Whole big group of folks. Harder to keep track of everyone, and the play-party is open to all. You might consider coming back then. But smart, girly, very smart to suss out the scene on a quieter night. You come back and see me on Saturday and we’ll see if we can hook you up for some play time, kay?”

With a last pat on her hand, MammaLa worked her way back to the far end of the bar. Kat wasn’t sure, but it felt like she’d been summarily dismissed. With a quick grin, she laid a bill on the counter under her glass, and slid off the stool. She had a lot to think about, for sure. She slipped quietly from the room, and headed out to her car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He drove down the street to the club. It was time to put “Mr. Jackson” to bed for the night and let Master Dirk out for some much needed play time.  Stretching his back as he maneuvered his truck down the back streets, he thought back to these last two weeks and the reason why he was so taut.  A certain redhead, with big tits and a curvy bottom and the most prickly attitude had been intruding into his thoughts far too frequently.  He needed a bit of release, a bit of whip work perhaps. He’d see who was up and out tonight. Melinda was often available for single play.

A small car headed his way. He hoped it wasn’t Mel, as she was the best recipient for the whip. But the car that drew abreast of him as they passed one another in the night was not Melinda’s. He turned into the parking lot, grinning. For just a moment, the flashing neon light had illuminated her face, though he doubt she’d noticed him, looking straight ahead as she was. His ever so efficient secretary, Katherine. He’d missed her by minutes. But now he knew.

“Hot damn!” he laughed to himself, before sliding out of his car and heading into the club.

 

Hired! ~1~

She looked up as the door opened and a youngish, goth-ish woman all but flew out from the portal. Her thick mascara was smeared down her cheeks, tears dripped from her chin.

oh my,  she thought, that’s one hell of an interview.

She swallowed hard, then rose as a hand peremptorily gestured her inside.

here goes nothin’, she though, squaring her shoulders. She would not leave here all snot-faced and mewling, to be sure. She needed this job, and she’d worked for dickhead bosses before. Still, her heart hammered hard in her chest as she crossed the vast office space to where he sat. He, most likely, would be her new boss, and she took note of all she could before she sat.

He stared at her, fingers steepled. His chair moved left, right, left, right as he stared at her. She returned his look with one she hoped looked calm, cool, and not as desperate at she felt.

“Fine,” he said at long last.

“Can you type?”

“Of course.”

“Can you keep track of things?”

“Things? Could you be more specific?” she asked. She’d learned long ago to not blindly say ‘yes’ in an interview, and her job coach had echoed that this very morning before sending her running uptown for this interview.

“Notes, to do lists, stuff.”

“You mean, your calendar? Your appointments and deadlines? Yes, of course.”

“Hmm, ” he mused, his fingers still steepled.

“Stand up.”

A quick frown crossed her face, but she rose.

“Here.” He pointed at a spot on his side of the desk. She walked over.

“Well, you at least look the part. Turn around.”

She turned around, the looked over her shoulder.

“Look? The part? I’m a trained professional.”

His eyebrows raised fractionally, and he straightened in his chair.

“I had no idea they covered that in business school,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

“Covered…? I think we’re talking at cross purposes. I know how to dress to represent the company. I know how to file and how to type and how to manage a professional calendar, as well as send your suits out to be cleaned, have a car pick you up, arrange for haircuts, send flowers to clients-all the things a businessman needs but doesn’t have time to do when he’s running a Fortune-500 business.”

She was proud of the little speech. It was firm, delivered crisply, as she walked back to her seat.

“How about a blowjob?”

Half-way to sitting, she all but bounced to her feet.

“I beg your pardon? In this day and age, you’d ask me for … for…” she sputtered to a stop.

“The word is blowjob. Or BJ for short. It’s okay, I’ll teach you. You did say you were a trained professional, and your resume does say that you have extensive sexual experience at your last employment.”

She leaned forward, fire slashing from her eyes.

“It. Does. NOT. Say. That.”

He held up an application.

“Naomi, I have no idea what you’re getting pissy about..”

She cut him off abruptly.

“I’m Katherine,” she replied scathingly. “It’s more than apparent that you need someone to take care of your office. Taking care of your sexual needs is your problem, buddy. NOT mine. If you want a secretary who can efficiently manage your day, then hire me. But I will NOT fuck you, suck you, or anything, except whack you in the head with my stapler if you try to force me. You pervert.”

His phone rang. She turned to move to the door. His voice took on a note of command, losing the humor.

“Sit.”

Somehow, she wasn’t sure how, her ass was back in the chair at his no-nonsense order. She clutched her small purse, thinking fuming thoughts about disorganized assholes, before coming to the conclusion that he really did need her skills as much as she needed the job. She didn’t mean to listen to his side of the conversation, but it became apparent that he was late getting some document off to someone who was NOT happy about having to call, again, for it. He hung up the phone and glared over her head for a moment.

Opening a drawer, he pulled out a laptop and thrust it across the desk to her.  Rising, he came around to her side of the desk, and pushed a hidden button under the front overhang. A small shelf slid from under the desk.

neat, she thought, as she put the laptop on it.

“Type,” he commanded. “Wait. What IS  your name?”

“Katherine,” she replied, her nose in the air. “And you’re going to need to make me an offer before I hit one key.”

“Better to hit the key than me. I apologize for the confusion. I guess Naomi had second thoughts about showing up.”

“Smart girl,” she said.

“I like wiseass. To a point.”

Walking back to his chair, he pulled a note pad from the far drawer. Scrabbling around he finally found a pen that worked, and an elastic band.

fuck my life,  she heard him mutter under his breath, as the pen stopped writing. His next choice finally delivered ink to the page. She couldn’t stop herself, she laughed.

“With you…not at you. Uhm. Exactly. You’re very bossy–and I get that. But if we’re going to work together…and that will depend on what you’re writing there, you’re really going to need me to help manage you.”

Remembering her quick sit when he’d actually used his Dom Voice on her, he smiled. He thought that was a novel idea, a submissive managing him. Nudging the paper towards her, he watched the smile bloom across her face.

This was going to be more fun than he’d imagined.

Porn Rant ~ Kink Your Own Kink…but…

So when a slut is deprived of stimulation from her Master, and when that slut is needy, she needs to find other ways to amuse herself. What better way, I ask, than *looking* at porn?

I started on Tumblr a bit ago (I don’t keep track of this stuff!), and reblog on occasion. But I have a few raunchy people that I follow, including several c-n-c rape blogs (are they called blogs? or just tumblrs? I dunno!) some slavery type ones, and some that are just creepy.

Last night, though I was exhausted beyond measure, and had no energy to even think about an orgasm, I nonetheless scrolled through Tumblr before turning off my light. Several posts were hot, per usual, but then there was The. One.

The one that grossed me out beyond measure.

I’m okay with D/s that does knifeplay, including cutting. I’m okay with D/s that whips to blood, and I’m okay (though squicked out immensely) with tit nailing. (Yes, it’s a thing, who knew?) I simply scroll through those quickly and shudder.

But the one with the knife, needle and “nipple-less slut” written across her tits?

No.

That crosses a line into maiming and abuse for this sub-girl. That’s where my inner feminist, who is fine with being pissed on, and face-fucked until puking and other degrading things, rears up and says “whoa there a minute, you.”

Like really…who the fuck thinks its okay to cut the nipples off a woman for fun? 

Sure, D/s can be serious. Can be deeply kinky. And yes, yeah, blah blah blah, nilla, who do you think you are criticizing a Dominant for doing whatever he wants with his slut.

Who am I?

I’m a woman. One who loves who she is, and trust her Dom to take care of her, to abuse her carefully, if you will. Sure, he’s going to hurt me. Sure, he’s going to mark me, and give me more orgasms than I think I can handle, and it will hurt and be good and I’ll ache for days afterwards.

But he would never in a million years permanently disfigure me by cutting off my nipples.

I mean, what’s the fucking point of that?!

How can it even be remotely amusing to do this to a person (no matter that she’s a slut or slave or pig or whatever name is being used)? Aren’t hurting a sluts nipples something that Dom’s/Tops like to do?

Okay, so that’s the first one, and it truly disturb(s) me. But wait, there’s more.

There’s the one that I saw last week, a whole photo array of a clit being injected. Saline? Who knows. It gets larger in every single photo until it’s huge. The next picture is of a razor blade. And the last one is of the severed clit, with the caption “you won’t be needing that any more.”

I’ll let you think about that for a moment.

I’m into kink because it makes me feel good. Because of the high, because of the endorphins, because I have this wacky wiring that makes me like to be beaten and fucked and …

that’s as far as it goes.

Yeah, I know there’s risk when you become a submissive to someone. That they can harm you. That they could kill you. I get it. I do. I was once desperate and foolish and met a man I’d only been talking to for a few months on the internet without ever really seeing his picture, or knowing him for real. No coffee dates in public, just a meeting in a room in a hotel and 9 hours of being fucked and kissed and hurt and …he became my Master.

I. Do. Not. Get. This.

Is this kink extreme? Is it abuse? Is it misogyny in the extreme?I think about those young girls in Africa who are taken out to the bush and have their clitoris removed by an elder woman because they are not allowed to enjoy sex, to have an orgasm, to feel any pleasure. I remember the need to vomit that I felt when I first heard of this genital brutality.

I can’t condone it. I can’t un-see it. I can’t understand it.

Isn’t the underlying piece of this thing we do, for all of us to feel pleasure of some kind? It’s not a game to me. It is NOT a game. Yet from my weight of years, and from 14 years of celibacy in my marriage, I cannot see that this sort of thing is anything about pleasure. Yeah, I know people give up having orgasms to please one’s Top. I get that that’s part of some peoples kink.

But to NEVER feel pleasure ever again?

Peeps.

Life is short. Shorter than you can even believe, and the days roll past so quickly. I hope that you don’t spend them all in denial of life’s greatest gift. I know I won’t. I hope I’m still having orgasms 20 years from now, and beyond…but I will never, ever, forget seeing that poor severed clit, and not feel the need to weep for that poor girl.

 

 

Wet

This is what a day off does to me… ~nilla~

 

“You filthy whore”

His words made her flinch. In her vanilla life, it was the epitome of horrific things to be called.  In his apartment, those nasty words only inspired her to deeper heat and a rising need to be fucked.

Now, his fingers buried deeply in her cunt, he’d found her soaked after he’d called her his personal cum bucket, after he’d pissed all over her tee-shirt. Her nipples had risen as the hot splash of urine cooled  quickly in the air conditioned room. He’d clamped them, over the doused shirt, laughing as her nose wrinkled and as she’d moaned.

“You love every fucking dirty thing, don’t you, you slut? You love to be called my holes, my fuckmeat, my ass-licking cunt. You get wetter the more I pull your hair, when I slap your face, when I gag you on my cock. Admit it.”

His hand slipped out of her cunt and into her mouth.

“Admit it, as you choke on my fingers. Lap them clean, taste your nasty needs. Right there, yes, your pussy juice tells me all.”

She sucked, licked, lapped his digits clean one by one. Soft sounds came from her throat, cooings of desire and need.

“Fuck me,” she whispered when his fingers slipped away. “Please, Master, fuck me…!”

Not a whine, he hated whining. A soft entreaty.

“What do you want, cunt? Speak up.”

She knew he loved when she talked dirty. She, the proper housewife. Head of the school PTA, proper wife of a prominent city lawyer, she lay, spread open on the hotel bed, her pussy lips glistening pink, swollen and wet.

“I need you to fuck my cunt, Sir. To slam your thick cock into me until I cry. I need you to slap me and use me hard, Sir. Please?”

He stood just a few feet away, his thick shaft in his hand, stroking it slowly. The head was swollen and red, and she knew he felt the same need to hurt as she did to be beaten. He walked to the chair, eyes on her, and reached for the thin leather paddle.

“Open your legs. Wider.”

A quick pop of the paddle on her pussy made her yelp. He didn’t start gently, nor slowly. The blows fell like rain from a hurricane, striking her pussy with a fierceness that made tears gather and fall. He struck her inner thighs, then the swelling bud of her clit took a hard blow.

She closed her legs. Just a little. Just enough.

He paused, eyes widening.

“You did not.”

“I’m sorry Master,” she stuttered. He dropped the paddle beside her, strode to the chair. Quickly he returned to the bed, grabbing a leg, and heaving it up towards her shoulder. With rough hands, he coiled the rope around her calf, then grabbing her wrist, completed the tie around her forearm. Rising, he attached the end of the rope to a ring in the wall.

She shivered, torn between a secret delight, and an open dread.

He made short work of attaching her other leg and arm to the second ring, and she was secured, thighs, pussy and ass exposed and unable to be protected.

She could see the look on his face. Her pussy oozed. He was going to beat her ass savagely. Instead, he approached the bed, ran his engorged cock up and down her slit.

“You fucking whore. You’re even wetter than you were before.”

He rammed his cock to the hilt into her gaping cunt. She gasped, moaning loudly. Wet though she was, her cunt was not ready for such an abrupt intrusion.

“Owww,” she moaned.

He pulled out, then drove into her again. His cock felt like it was bouncing off her ribcage, he drove so deeply into her. His hands curled around her hips, pulling her towards the end of the bed, her shoulders straining as the rope holding her drew taut.

“Now I’m lubed.”

That was the only warning she got, as his cockhead pressed against her anus. His hips drove forward, piercing the tight rosebud of her ass, popping into her rump with a nearly audible sound.

“Aaaah,” he groaned in pleasure. “Your ass is so fucking tight. I know you hate this. I love that you hate this.”

She whimpered as he jolted his hips forward, working his way deeper into her asshole. She felt stretched to the breaking point, certain her rectum would tear and bleed.

“It hurts so fucking much!” she yelped, gasping. Her voice was choked with tears.

“Good, fucking goood,” he replied. Pulling out, he shoved his dick deeply. They groaned simultaneously, he in pleasure, and she in pain.

“Oh my GAWDDD…”she shrieked. “FUCKING OWWW…you’re tearing my ass APART…!”

“You.”

“Always”

“Say.”

“That.”

He grunted out each word with a pull out, and thrust in. Moments later, his body was slamming into her ass, his hips jackhammering into her unprotected ass. Black lines streaked her face as her mascara ran in rivulets from her eyes. Her mouth was open, gasping for breath at the invading shaft of man meat. His head was thrown back, his belly muscles quivering as he raped her fanny roughly.

She thought she would pass out from the pain.  Her eyes flew open when she felt something in her pussy.

“You’re drooling pussy juice.”

His fingers slid inside of her, diddling her roughly. His thumb rubbed over her clit as her ass was split on his cock. One finger, three fingers, and he was all but fisting her as he fucked her ass. She exploded, her cunt spasming around the wriggling digits. Her back arched, her mouth opened in a wide O of soundless pleasure. Her asshole squeezed tightly on the shaft still slipping in and out of it, milking him.

He came, buried deep in her ass. She came again, his fingers buried in her cunt. As his cock withdrew, she came again. When his fingers pinched her clit, aching after the multiple explosions, she jerked and felt the sudden splash of liquid.

“Now everything is wet. You cunt.”

He laughed.

Then he crawled up the bed, straddling her face, one leg over her head, his cock lined up with her mouth.

“Time to clean up,” he said.

She gulped. Ass to mouth was not on her list of things to experience. His eyes held hers, and she knew he was testing her, pushing her limits. For a long minute their eyes stayed locked. Her cunt throbbed even harder.

When her lips parted, she felt her pussy gush again.