The Word (1)

I almost never serialize stories here, but this was too delicious a tale to try to cram it all into one sitting. With my deepest thanks to Ancilla ksst and that Devious Master of hers who came up with the idea in the first place. Such wonderful torments just make my brain quiver with excitement! ~nilla~

 

It was late.

No, it was fucking awful late. She hated when her work ran over like that. And then she’d forgotten that her car was low on gas. She’d pulled into the station, thankful it was open, hers the only car on the byway to home. She’d texted him to let him know what was going on even though he was heading out for his poker game with the guys. So she’d get home and finally be shed of these fucking killer heels, she thought as she stood pumping gas. Done, she decided to head inside the small store. A snack, or at least a soft drink to keep her mind on the road and not her empty belly would help. He didn’t approve of soda, but did allow her an occasional one. She supposed he’d be okay with it tonight.

Sliding into the car, she opened the bottle and took a swallow. Head tilted back, she almost choked when a hand came around her throat, holding her chin up.

Owl”

The sibilant whisper froze her in place. It was His word.  A faint nod of her head, a softly croaked “I understand…Sir” and the hand released her throat. She heard him settling back in his seat, the soft snick of the seatbelt engaging.

“Drive,”  came the voice from the back. “I’ll direct you.”

She tried to look in the rear view mirror but it had been tilted away. She knew better than to try to adjust it. Her heart thumped so loudly it was a wonder it wasn’t audible to the man in her backseat. Turning out onto the road, she turned the car right at his order, and let her panicked mind roll back to the conversation that had brought her to this juncture. It had been months ago, and she had been certain that it was a mindfuck.

But there was a man in her backseat, belaying that idea.

They’d been washing dishes, her washing, he opting to dry. While waiting for each item to be washed, he’d pinch her tit, or slap her ass, laughing as she squirmed and shrieked and made a soapy mess everywhere.

“I’m getting wet!” she’d protested to him at one point.

“I like you wet,” he’d replied, sliding his hand between her legs and squeezing. She was undeniably hot.

“I know what else gets your little pussy all juicy,” he had said, his tone teasing but with that tone that always made her shiver, too. Rather than replying, she finished up the dishes, and made busy with wiping the sink. Before she could turn away, he pinned her there.

“I know you’re dying to know,” he said, his voice soft and on the verge of threatening. Her pussy clenched. Damn the man for knowing exactly what buttons to push. His fingers tightened on her hips, his pelvis warm against her ass.

“Someday, somewhere, I’m going to have a friend whisper a word in your ear. It will be my code word.”

Frozen in place, lust at war with fear, she listened hard to his every word.

“He’ll say the word to you and you will know that I have sent him. He will take you, bring you someplace, and have you. He’ll have access to all your holes, slut.” His voice was husky with the promise of danger. “He’ll fuck you, and suck you, and slap you around. You’ll be his playtoy until he brings you back to me. You won’t know for how long–he and I will work that out. Your only focus will be to serve.”

Her pulse rose, her breath held. A quivery shiver moved through her. As his hands came around to cup her breasts, to squeeze and mold the supple flesh, she came, hard.

He knew just how to get to her.

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

Later, a day or a week or more, he’d pondered the word to her. Stubbornly she’d found a reason to dismiss them all.

“Whore.”

“Anyone kidnapping a woman might call her whore. That won’t work.”

“Cunt.”

“Same.”

There was a longer pause.

“Princess Poopy Pants,” he said, his tone prissy.

She laughed, blushing furiously.

“NO!” Was her quick reply. “No no and NO! Besides, that’s three words.”

He grumbled a bit, but she saw his smile.

“I have it. Owl,” He said, testing it.

“Owl?”

“What crazed lunatic would say owl if they were robbing or abducting you? And besides, you like owls. Owl it is.”

And that, it seemed, was that, until tonight.

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About vanillamom

For over 8 years--(EIGHT?!) nilla and M have been a D/s couple. I'm the "small s" side of that designation, as he often reminds me. I'm silly and prone to giggling at inopportune times. He's a wicked Sadist, who feeds me my drug of choice--pain. My brain is always spinning dirty and dark little fantasies, which I sometimes share with the world. Welcome to the nilla-verse. It's wet and slippery here...with a dragon or two lurking.
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7 Responses to The Word (1)

  1. *bounces* Can’t wait to see where this goes!

    xx Dee

  2. I’m ready to take a ride.

  3. michelle says:

    Oooooll, fun! But you stopped right when it was getting good. *Pout*

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