This series is dedicated to my best friend who is not far from vanilla but likes reading about my adventures.

I never liked plain vanilla ice cream – or chocolate, for the record.

Take me to the Caribbean with a few scoops of creamy coconut with crunchy frozen chocolate bits, chewy candied pineapple chunks, I’ll sprinkle spiced rum and squirt cream on it, then we’re talking.

Garnish my summer evening with strawberry ice cream, made of fresh strawberries with the tiny seeds and juicy fruit-flesh, dark chocolate chunks, floating in a coupe of prosecco.

Or pure, innocent vanilla with fresh mint and roughly chopped After Eight chocolate wafer, cream oozing out of the layers, and vodka that kicks with horseshoes on and we’re on to a great night, you’ll never forget.

Our little arrangement seems to work perfectly, doesn’t it? You enjoy wrapping your hands around my neck roughly from time to time, just to prove that I can play the strong independent woman all I want, in the bedroom you are the fucking boss. And not only I like the dark path, we’re leisurely strolling down on, but I look at you with a little girl’s innocence and ask ‘why are your eyes so big?’ and encourage you with ‘show me those big teeth again, wolf.’

That would be enough for you, wouldn’t it? A flash of power here and there… But I have warned you from the beginning: I’m very high maintenance in that department.

Sometimes, you seem to be forgetting, just how easily I get bored. You need to put the fucking effort in, My Dear. Otherwise, you’re making me having to nudge you and give you little hints sporadically, usually in a shape of an explicit picture of a new position, a bondage tie, or a toy.

I’ve learned to organise your reactions to these hints into four categories.

-When you say ‘nice’, it usually means you don’t care for it at all. It took me months to see through your polite English gentleman facade, but now I read between your lines easily.

-When you include an interjection like ‘mmm,’ ‘ohh’ or ‘gulp,’ you’re being a bit more enthusiastic, but still not completely sold.

-‘Fuck me’ usually means you’re a bit shocked and love it. Or sometimes just plain shocked.

-The last reply, ‘Do you want me to buy it?’ is kept exclusively for BDSM toys.

I’m almost certain, you are not aware, that I know what you’re doing. You’re playing the sugar daddy to make me indebted to you and hence more submissive.

But this, My Love, is the very finest example of topping from below, – which of course you have no concept of, – because you’re a man of impulses, passion and power. Nevertheless, I like to play my intricate little games.

So yeah, you’re buying that collar and the leash. And while you’re at it, those sexy fur-padded cuffs too.

Tharrrnks very much. I love you.

Now, I owe you and you own me. Or let’s pretend, that is the case. The world is round again and I’ll reward you with the best blow job of your otherwise boring life. And more.


‘It was worth every penny.’ I purr teasingly, as I open the box, running my fingers over the super soft fur and the expensive leather. It even smells expensive, straight from an artisan leather workshop. We had a kitten collar before, but that was a thin, flimsy, decorative one, just for fun. But this one, mmmm. 

‘This one is for business, Sir.’ I stretch my palms out, offering it you. ‘I’m yours.’ I smirk then pout my lips suggestively. Can’t wait to play now. When I see you stroking it with your fingers, it feels like you’re touching my skin, touching my clit. The anticipation excites me like a low humming electric current,

Yesss, grab hold of that thick expensive leather. It’s designed for ruff and tuff, just like me. I want you to try breaking it! Then handle me the same way. 

Oh, ok, if you want to start by hooking your fingers gently into the D rings, while I take a few exploring tastes of you, it’s fine with me too…Get me used to be owned and used like this, like your obedient, little pet. That’s it, you’re getting rough now…Pull my face onto your cock fucking hard, ’till I gag and try to push you away. Push a little harder and just then, let me fucking breathe.

‘Ahhh.’.Grin. ‘That’s it, we’rrrre talking, sirrrr. Noooow, give me more.’

‘Push me over the bed, clip those padded cuffs to the frame and kneel over my face like you did last time, I loved it.’

Oh, you only done that in the heat of the moment last time and don’t remember how.. Ex-act-ly .. You.. Have- Do.. It’s fine! As long as I can’t move and can’t breathe, you are doing fucking great. Now it’s my favourite thing ever.

And don’t worry about going down on me… Absolutely… not necessarily. I’m ready for your cock… Whenever.

Hmmm, unless you want to drown your face in my running river, so I can lick your lips clean later, when you finally crash into me…

And don’t forget to bite my face, when you cum, so I can cum with you.

Damn, I wish I didn’t love your spunk so much…

We forgot the stupid condom again. Well, I’m almost on my red-letter days. It should be fine. It should be.






This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

All rights reserved. No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author.

Source link


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here