He tells me to come in. I do. I’m feeling scared, defiant, and sorrowful. I spent too much money by an irresponsible error.
“I’m going to milk your nipples,” he tells me. I cried my arms over my chest and whimper. “You don’t have to like it,” he tells me. “But you’re going to do it.”
He sits, fully clothed, on the chair. “Take your clothes off,” he says. I do. “All of them.” I whimper and do.
“Sit here,” he gestures. I hesitantly approach. He gestures to his lap. My outer lips are already quivering. I’m afraid of what might happen if I mount those denim legs, so I start to perch ladylike on them with my legs to one side.
“No.” He is quiet but firm. “Face me. One leg on each side.” He flexes his fingers. "I'm going to milk your nipples, but I think that might milk you other places, too. We'll see what the good little girl has to offer as part of her punishment." I tremble and straddle him, once leg on each side, facing him. My breasts hang between us.
His hands find my breasts and begin to massage, warm, gently. "I know your mistake today was an accident. That's why I'm not doing to hurt you." The massaging moves to my nipples, where two fingers rhymthmically pull my aerolas and nipples out between his thumbs, stroking outward at the pace of a slow, steady heartbeat. My nipples get hard and my pussy tightens. I try not to gasp for breath.
"What does the little girl say?" Rhythmic hands continue to pulse me. It hurts, it's uncomfortable, and I want to pull away. At the same time, my nipples send signals like lightning down to inside by pelvic bone, and a dull throbbing starts up there, echoing the rhythm of the stroking. I feel like I am being milked. The shame makes the throbbing inside me pulse harder. I am torn, confused between pleasure and pain. I moan.
"My little girl made a mistake today, didn't she?" Pull, pull. "And she considered not telling me." As he pulls, he rolls my aereolas with his thumbs. I gasp.
"Yes" I gasp, and against my will my hips thrust, just a little, on top of his denim thighs. The friction both hurts and feels good. I will myself not to do it again.
But he is talking to me, lecturing me, telling me how sad and disappointed I have made him, and the rhymthic pulling on my nipples is now unmistakably mirrored in the slight pulsing thrusts of my hips. I don't know how to stop, I know I should, but I don't want to because it feels... good. I close my eyes. The hands on my breasts continue their inexorable pulling. I put my head down on his shoulder, and he continues stroking me, pulling my nipples, telling me how much he loves me and how disappointed his little girl has made him. Suddenly, my pussy gushes hot, flowing water onto his leg. There is no way he will not notice - I am situated on his lap, straddling him, soaking his jeans. After this session he will have his pussy-soaked jeans as a prize to show that his wife is a writhing whore. I writhe against this thought.
One hand trails down my breasts, over my soft stomach, and plays with the hair there. Swiftly, he strokes my outer lips, making them tremble and making me spread my legs, wanting more. He strokes the lips, always missing the clit. "Please.... make me sorry," I whisper.
He flips me over onto his lap, and this time he inserts my vibrator, the one that fills and stretches my pussy even while vibrating over my clit, and as it is both too full it hurts yet feels good. I strain against it, but he turns it on low and begins to spank me. Slowly. Rhymthmically.
My body is confused on how to respond. The spanks hurt, but between each spank is the light vibration of pleasure. The rhythmic pain confuses the pleasure but keeps in rhythym with it. The pleasure in the tissues around my clitoris increases.
I am his, and he is mine.
1/18/2020
6/18/2019
On the Bathroom Floor
He rises above me, ready to penetrate.
I bend my head down, obedient over the carpet.
Instead, I feel prodding in an unexpected area. Pain. The pain sharpens and intensity firs as he finds the entrance he wants. I whimper no. He presses on, telling me I wanted this even though I did not. I whimper and try to struggle away. His grip becomes firmer. He tells me this will happen.
I collapse in a whimper. He presses into me, the pain spreading. I moan. He presses his pelvis against my skin and rocks, and the pain changes, giving way to a far-off pleasure that throbs dully somewhere deep with me, threatening to betray me against the pain.
He uses me, hands lovingly caressing my back as he abuses and rapes me, as I struggle between pain and discomfort and pleasure and revulsion. If he massaged my aerolas gently now, my body would lose control.
He releases me. I am relieved, glad my punishment is over and he can clean off now. He doesn’t move to the shower, but flips me over and spreads my legs. I protest. He tells me he’s not done with me this way, and against my feeble protests I am unwillingly invaded again, the pain betraying me by receeding as he glides in and out of this part of me he was never meant to know. My pussy is tightening against my will, betraying me for what I am. He triumphantly calls me a dirty whore and I close my eyes and look away, ashamed at the truth as he feels my pussy tighten and retract in pleasure that radiates painfully from somewhere deep in my ass. He grips my thighs and keep gliding in and out, pumping me.
I wince and moan as the pain waves through, knowing this is unnatural. I wonder what is wrong with him as I writhe on the floor, captive to his whims and wills over my body, enduring the pain for his sake. What broken part of him needs to hold and rape, to dominate and enthrall? God knows my weak protests are doing nothing but encouraging him. I ask him why. He says he likes to degrade me. I want to ask him what kind of person wants to degrade other people, but I’m fighting another orgasm.
He rinses off and enters me, touching my lips with a vibrator that has too high of a speed. It hurts and I wince away from the stinging sensation. I touched myself with the vibrator while he was in the shower, stroking my aereolas with light circles and then light, rhythmic punches, and even when I turned it off while I waited for him my pelvis was thrusting with the wanting.
The vibration against my lower pussy lips races me toward an orgasm I could not achieve, given how my insides contracted painfully against the knob of his penis just inside me. Three days ago, he sucked on my clit and brought me to shuddering orgasm again and again as he rocked the vibrator against my clit. It ached. My favorite is when he lightly gives my clit butterfly, slightly suctioned, feather-light kisses while he brings the vibratory against the hood. Those do not ache but drip with pleasure.
Today is not a day to drip with pleasure. Today is a day to be used. He bangs against my cervix and I gush hot liquid down his shaft and balls, wetting him completely with the shameful evidence of my pleasure as he uses me. He laughs, making it happen again and again. I gush helplessly onto him. I hate it when my body succumbs to him even while my mind fights him, that he thinks he can coax nipple orgasms and hot gushes our of me against my will, that I know this means if I ever leave him he can control me back into him by using my body against me, raping me, fucking me, ruling me. I give in again and again. I come on his cock as he rapes me. I suck his ballsack and let him invade my ass. I am, truly, the whore he says I am. But I would not be if he didn’t make me be.
I deserve this.
Once I was a brat for a day. My attitude was really poor. That night, he told me I’d disappointed him and he took me into bed. He sadly told me he was going to punish me, and he milked my nipples while he sadly told me all the bad things I’d done. I was so ashamed that I came all over him, gushing hot clear liquid as he milked my nipples straight to my pussy. The glistening liquid that told him how turned on I was by his punishment made me feel even more ashamed, the shame rushing to between my legs and pulsing hot and quivering there. This wasn’t role play, I wasn’t being punished for some made-up offense a cheerleader had committed against the principal, this was real and true and my body responded far stronger than with any made-up fantasy.
If he strokes them both, I’m done.
Instead, he pushes the vibrator into my aereola. It is too much, and it hurts, but I also immediately come. My pelvis thrusts with the waves. He pushes it into the other one and I come again. I bite my lip against the convulsions.
I melt into more orgasms as my pussy tightens as he rhythmically pounds my cervix. I know he can feel me come. He reaches forward and strokes one breast on the delicate skin surrounding my tiny, tight nipple. The rumble of another orgasm threatens. I want him to stroke both in a circle. Gently, softly.
He does. This engages between my legs, intensifying the growing rush of blood to my clit. I buck against it. Would I be so brazen if his friends were here? God, bless hope not.
He tells me to come. I cannot. He tells me if I do, I will make him come. I think I cannot, but this knowledge makes me explode, my pussy tightening around his cock as he spears me, and oh it hurts too much, but my pussy is already clenched around him in orgasm, me riding him knowing his little girl is going to make him come, and it pushes me over the edge as I involuntarily clench down, rolled between ecstasy and aching, the orgasm bringing pain, which seems right, somehow, and he comes into his little girl and we are finished and I am conquered.
I bend my head down, obedient over the carpet.
Instead, I feel prodding in an unexpected area. Pain. The pain sharpens and intensity firs as he finds the entrance he wants. I whimper no. He presses on, telling me I wanted this even though I did not. I whimper and try to struggle away. His grip becomes firmer. He tells me this will happen.
I collapse in a whimper. He presses into me, the pain spreading. I moan. He presses his pelvis against my skin and rocks, and the pain changes, giving way to a far-off pleasure that throbs dully somewhere deep with me, threatening to betray me against the pain.
He uses me, hands lovingly caressing my back as he abuses and rapes me, as I struggle between pain and discomfort and pleasure and revulsion. If he massaged my aerolas gently now, my body would lose control.
He releases me. I am relieved, glad my punishment is over and he can clean off now. He doesn’t move to the shower, but flips me over and spreads my legs. I protest. He tells me he’s not done with me this way, and against my feeble protests I am unwillingly invaded again, the pain betraying me by receeding as he glides in and out of this part of me he was never meant to know. My pussy is tightening against my will, betraying me for what I am. He triumphantly calls me a dirty whore and I close my eyes and look away, ashamed at the truth as he feels my pussy tighten and retract in pleasure that radiates painfully from somewhere deep in my ass. He grips my thighs and keep gliding in and out, pumping me.
I wince and moan as the pain waves through, knowing this is unnatural. I wonder what is wrong with him as I writhe on the floor, captive to his whims and wills over my body, enduring the pain for his sake. What broken part of him needs to hold and rape, to dominate and enthrall? God knows my weak protests are doing nothing but encouraging him. I ask him why. He says he likes to degrade me. I want to ask him what kind of person wants to degrade other people, but I’m fighting another orgasm.
He rinses off and enters me, touching my lips with a vibrator that has too high of a speed. It hurts and I wince away from the stinging sensation. I touched myself with the vibrator while he was in the shower, stroking my aereolas with light circles and then light, rhythmic punches, and even when I turned it off while I waited for him my pelvis was thrusting with the wanting.
The vibration against my lower pussy lips races me toward an orgasm I could not achieve, given how my insides contracted painfully against the knob of his penis just inside me. Three days ago, he sucked on my clit and brought me to shuddering orgasm again and again as he rocked the vibrator against my clit. It ached. My favorite is when he lightly gives my clit butterfly, slightly suctioned, feather-light kisses while he brings the vibratory against the hood. Those do not ache but drip with pleasure.
Today is not a day to drip with pleasure. Today is a day to be used. He bangs against my cervix and I gush hot liquid down his shaft and balls, wetting him completely with the shameful evidence of my pleasure as he uses me. He laughs, making it happen again and again. I gush helplessly onto him. I hate it when my body succumbs to him even while my mind fights him, that he thinks he can coax nipple orgasms and hot gushes our of me against my will, that I know this means if I ever leave him he can control me back into him by using my body against me, raping me, fucking me, ruling me. I give in again and again. I come on his cock as he rapes me. I suck his ballsack and let him invade my ass. I am, truly, the whore he says I am. But I would not be if he didn’t make me be.
I deserve this.
Once I was a brat for a day. My attitude was really poor. That night, he told me I’d disappointed him and he took me into bed. He sadly told me he was going to punish me, and he milked my nipples while he sadly told me all the bad things I’d done. I was so ashamed that I came all over him, gushing hot clear liquid as he milked my nipples straight to my pussy. The glistening liquid that told him how turned on I was by his punishment made me feel even more ashamed, the shame rushing to between my legs and pulsing hot and quivering there. This wasn’t role play, I wasn’t being punished for some made-up offense a cheerleader had committed against the principal, this was real and true and my body responded far stronger than with any made-up fantasy.
If he strokes them both, I’m done.
Instead, he pushes the vibrator into my aereola. It is too much, and it hurts, but I also immediately come. My pelvis thrusts with the waves. He pushes it into the other one and I come again. I bite my lip against the convulsions.
I melt into more orgasms as my pussy tightens as he rhythmically pounds my cervix. I know he can feel me come. He reaches forward and strokes one breast on the delicate skin surrounding my tiny, tight nipple. The rumble of another orgasm threatens. I want him to stroke both in a circle. Gently, softly.
He does. This engages between my legs, intensifying the growing rush of blood to my clit. I buck against it. Would I be so brazen if his friends were here? God, bless hope not.
He tells me to come. I cannot. He tells me if I do, I will make him come. I think I cannot, but this knowledge makes me explode, my pussy tightening around his cock as he spears me, and oh it hurts too much, but my pussy is already clenched around him in orgasm, me riding him knowing his little girl is going to make him come, and it pushes me over the edge as I involuntarily clench down, rolled between ecstasy and aching, the orgasm bringing pain, which seems right, somehow, and he comes into his little girl and we are finished and I am conquered.
6/27/2016
Delicious Stuffed Chicken Recipe for my Dom
I made this recipe up for dinner for my family, and my Dom loved it. However, I loved it, too, and I'm much pickier. This is homey comfort food. I'll take that over fake-pretty salad greens any day.
You're going to start with the basic instructions for the Hasselback Chicken, found on YouTube or at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-l7j5yyJ3PE, including the cooking times and temps, but the stuffing you make is different from the rather bland ricotta-and-spinach the video shows.
Cooking is an art, not a science, so feel it, don't measure it. You're going to need:
You're going to start with the basic instructions for the Hasselback Chicken, found on YouTube or at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-l7j5yyJ3PE, including the cooking times and temps, but the stuffing you make is different from the rather bland ricotta-and-spinach the video shows.
Cooking is an art, not a science, so feel it, don't measure it. You're going to need:
- cooking oil (I know any self-respecting recipe sharer should insist on EVOO, but I'll admit I'm still out and I made mine with vegetable oil. It tasted just fine.
- cream cheese (I used 6 oz. for 2 big chicken breasts)
- bag of fresh spinach
- minced garlic
- chopped onion
- chopped mushrooms
- parmesan cheese
- handful of cheddar cheese
- large boneless chicken breasts
- Mix softened bream cheese, parmesan cheese, cheddar cheese, and salt/pepper, if desired.
- Heat oil. Sautee garlic and onions until brown; add mushrooms and spinach and sautee until brown and wilted, respectively.
- Add cream cheese mixture to skillet and stir until melted.
- Stuff into and on top of chicken. Garnish with salt. If desired, add pepper, parsley, basil, or cheese. I do not recommend paprika as called for with the video recipe.
Follow video cooking instructions. Like eating homemade mushroom soup on top of chicken. Yummm. I served it with a fruit salad and fruit dip. Enjoy!
6/11/2016
I Submit to Him
I wear headcovers in church, and I submit to him.
I bend over in the shower and let him rub his erection against me. I submit to him.
I writhe beneath him, I cry, I panic, I flee, but still he enters me inexorably. I submit to him.
He kisses me, roughly. We've been apart too long. His lips search mine. I feel warm and wet. I submit to him.
I suck, I lick, I want the jewel.
If I try to leave, he punishes me. I'm his.
Did he make me a whore or was I one already?
Another one, he whispers, embracing my--our--fertility. Another anchor, another tie to him. Another terrible sacrifice. I submit to him.
I bend over in the shower and let him rub his erection against me. I submit to him.
I writhe beneath him, I cry, I panic, I flee, but still he enters me inexorably. I submit to him.
He kisses me, roughly. We've been apart too long. His lips search mine. I feel warm and wet. I submit to him.
I suck, I lick, I want the jewel.
If I try to leave, he punishes me. I'm his.
Did he make me a whore or was I one already?
Another one, he whispers, embracing my--our--fertility. Another anchor, another tie to him. Another terrible sacrifice. I submit to him.
10/27/2015
I lie and wait
I lie and wait for the triple header I know is coming,
That I know I deserve after mentioning threesomes and reading erotica and hitting him
Am I in for a bad night?
He has trained me somehow,
Changed me somehow,
Made me this woman who lies in bed awaiting her triple fucking, asking for it, needing it
Needing the connection,
The atonement for sins past
Waiting to be overcome,
Needing to be reminded who's boss
The baseball game captures his attention a few moments more
I'm tingling, nervous
Still aching from the welt his hand left on me when I hit him--
He already marked me
What punishment is in store?
The game is almost over.
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