Friday, February 27, 2015


I have to admit, it was a very different sensation. Oh, the usual tingle was there, a soft buzzing between my legs that had begun the moment I parked my truck in the smooth, concrete lot below. But everything else felt strange. My body had been spared the bone rattling experience of driving through the parking area of Julie's old apartment complex; a pothole ridden minefield capable of breaking axles and ankles with equal agility. Then I'd been able to walk to the front door of her new apartment without having to jump mud slurries, another definite improvement.  I climbed six flights of stairs to the third floor, and while still fully dressed, fished my new key to Julie's place out of my purse. It slid perfectly into the lock, an almost sexual experience, and it turned easily, no wrestling or jiggling needed. Talk about a change of pace! Unlocking Julie's old apartment was a thirty second adventure in frustration with a side order of patience.

I opened the door and stepped in, calling out.  "Julie, it’s just me," I said loudly. I was expected but in Texas this is a common courtesy and a way to prevent getting shot. I heard a muffled giggle coming from her bedroom and then she called out to me.

"You know the drill," she said, sounding a bit breathless. I blinked but shrugged. I did know the drill. Julie's living room was beautiful and I admired the touches of color as I began peeling out of my clothes. It was readily apparent that my former mistress and still best friend Kari had gone shopping with Julie for decor. I admired the elegant touches here and there while taking things off.  It didn't take me long to divest myself of boots, socks, blue jeans, and tee shirt, not to mention the bra and damp panties. This left me naked except for the remote control to the vibroballs, two plastic ovoid objects buried in my wet slit that were responsible for the buzzing I mentioned earlier. I put my clothes and shoes in a basket under the end table by the couch and gingerly opened a decorative wooden box that sat on the tabletop next to the television remote. Inside were four different pairs of nipple clamps, each diabolical in their own right.

Julie had made it clear that if I were ever in her apartment I'd be naked and clamped. That really isn't much of a surprise.  Most of the mistresses of the Society of the Golden Rose treat their submissives like that.  Clothing is an easy way to offset dominant from submissive and when you are physically naked there is a perceived vulnerability. Julie's other big issue were nipple clamps. She was focused a little intensely on my breasts and had made it clear to me that the tips of my breasts were to always be in at least a little discomfort. To that end she'd bought a set of Japanese Clover Clamps and asked Mike the Hardware Guy to alter them with ridges to prevent slippage. Then she had added her very own set of alligator clamps, again adjusted by Mike to the specifications of sexual use; lightening the tension and dulling the teeth slightly. There were three clothespins in the box as well, along with these amazing vice clamps that could be tightened with a screw.

The point was simple; I got to choose the clamp based on my mood and desires. If I wanted a long, drawn out session of sexual torment, with hours of denial, then Julie said I should select the Clover clamps. If I was in desperate straits, mad with desire, needing intensity and pain, I was to pick the alligator clamps. If I needed her to go easy on me, then I was to wear the clothespins, the direction of application itself a sign. Straight on meant she could basically do whatever she wanted to my breasts, while placed from the bottom meant the opposite. Up meant she could go to town. Lastly the vice clamp meant that she could do to me as she pleased.

I wish I could have worn more than one set of clamps. I'd been buzzing off and on all morning and since I'd been instructed to edge with no relief, I was mad for some carnal attention. So my fingers dipped toward the alligator clamps, the silver chain holding them together flashing in the soft light. But I also wanted a long, drawn out session, tormented for hours in her arms, cumming over and over again. Clover clamps. But I also wanted her to know I was hers to do with as she pleased, so that meant the vice clamps. Sigh... So many choices.

Finally I compromised.  I plucked the clover clamps out of the box and attached one of the pair on my right nipple.  I left the chain and second clamp dangling down along my belly.  Then the alligator clamps came out.  This time I did the opposite, attaching one to my left nipple, leaving the second hanging.  With two very different sensations being reported by the tender nerve endings along my bosom, I headed toward the bedroom with a grin at my mischievous cleverness.  I intended to make an entrance too.  The door was open and as I got closer I heard Julie's heavy breath even more acutely.  I stepped into the room and my jaw fell open.

Julie was having sex.

Delicately thin, with small breasts, angular hips, and petite everything, Julie is hardly what I would call a "looker".  Hell, even my overblown proportions and girl next door cute face make Julie look... well... that's not quite accurate.  Julie IS pretty in her own way.  Her long locks are chocolate colored, her hazel colored eyes are sweet and big, and even the slight upturn of her nose makes her look adorable.  She has freckled skin and when I saw her she was kneeling on her own bed, impaled fully on rigid cock, riding Mike the Hardware Guy like there was no tomorrow.

I felt a sudden surge of jealousy and immediately felt bad about it.  Especially since I was sure of whom or what I was jealous.  Was I jealous of Julie for having sex with Mike?  He and I had sort of made a go at a relationship and I was the problem and brought it back down to "friends with benefits".  Or was I jealous of Mike for already having sex with my bi-sexual mistress?  Or was I jealous of both of them for getting it on with each other while I'd only had the maddening torment of the vibroballs buzzing inside me all morning?

Julie saw me and smiled, motioning for me to climb up on the bed.  Well I certainly liked that idea and since Mike's mouth seemed to be unoccupied I quickly climbed up and settled down with my knees to either side of his head. Mike let go of his grip on Julie's hips and wrapped his thick arms around me instead.  I felt the hard pull as he forced me open even further and then there was the lightning like bliss of his tongue slipping through my folds.  

I was still stuffed with the vibroballs and I rocked my hips on Mike's face as Julie reached out, her eyes bright and needing.  Our mouths met and her tongue pressed against my lips. For a second I had the same thing happening above as I did below. Then she broke the kiss and began to pull back, rocking violently on Mike’s rock hard shaft.  Her hand darted out toward me and I felt her nails graze my ribs as she plucked both of the unused clamps, still dangling by their chains and swinging from my nipples, lifting them up.  I gasped as she pulled on the chains, twinges of exquisite pain shooting down through my body.  But then to my shock, she lifted the free clover clamp, pinched it open, and set it upon her own nipple, connecting the two of us.  Then I became even more shocked when she put the alligator clamp on her right breast, the sharp teeth biting down on the hard little bump.  Julie gasped, eyes widening as she grit her teeth.  

Then she took a shuddering breath and leaned back.  The shards of agony that had been blooming in my bosom ruptured into a thousand fragments of molten iron, piercing me to the core.  Our congenital rocking made each movement that much more vicious and even as I cupped my own breasts, trying to deal with the pain, Julie cried out in a sound that was so familiar.  Her head was thrown back, her sharp body taut and trembling.  Her shaved slit was dark pink as her loins frantically pumped on Mike.  Then she shuddered hard, her own hands under the small curves of her bosom, pinching until she whimpered.  

Her fingers struggled with the clamps and then my own agony was halved as she managed to free herself.  She collapsed downward, then over to the side, leaving Mike groaning in need.  I didn’t even hesitate. As she curled up to the side I crawled downward, Mike letting my legs go so that I could answer the call. In seconds, facing away from his face, I lowered my wetness down. Then I realized the vibroballs were still in there, so I reached out, grabbed hold of the wire and tossed them away, gasping as the two vibrating sex toys were unceremoniously yanked from my depths. Then I finished impaling myself on the already granite like pillar beneath me.

It went in smoothly and Mike immediately began pumping again, putting his hands on my rump and holding onto my hips.  Waves of pleasure ran through me, the ache in my nipples from the still attached and swinging clamps only providing spice to the sweetness of it all.  Julie lay next to us on the bed, one hand on my thigh, fingers idly caressing my skin as Mike finally grunted in animalistic delight and exploded.

Which left me the one and only person unsatisfied.

Mike tried. I have to give him credit.  But evidently his release had been pretty complete and his shaft softened almost immediately.  I lay on his other side, stress flowing through my body.  I wanted to cum. Oh my GOD I SO WANTED TO CUM!  I stripped the condom off his shaft and immediately began trying to rub him back into hardness.  He groaned and put his hand on mine, stopping me.  

“Mike,” I whimpered. “Please.  I didn’t get satisfaction.”

I expected him to smile and accede to my demands, but it was Julie who spoke.

“Neither have we, Breanne.  And what we want is for you to suffer.” She sat up and looked at me directly. “Are you ready to see my dungeon?”

My eyes widened.  I mean sure, I knew, suspected, that the second bedroom would be used for that purpose, especially since the coffee table of her old apartment had been placed in that room by the movers.  But I hadn’t been in there.  That first night she’d tied me to the new bed.  The back room had remained mostly empty.  

Slowly Julie rose, her hand outstretched.  I took it and she pulled me off the bed, away from Mike even as she put her feet on the carpeted floor.  The two of us, both naked, with me clamped and still desperate, walked down the hall, past the kitchen, through the dining room and up to the back bedroom door.  It was closed and Julie paused.  She waited a moment and then Mike appeared.  He too was buck naked, his cock limp and clearly sated. He stood behind us with this massive grin on his face.

“I hope you like it, Bre,” he said.  I cocked an eyebrow upward and then Julie opened the door.

The lighting was dim, all of it indirect, but almost immediately the only thing I could do was gasp.  The room itself was just as big as I remembered it, essentially a second master bedroom.  The walls had been painted a dark brown in the week since I’d last been there and now there was furniture, but not the kind you would find in a Better Homes & Garden’s magazine, that’s for sure.  I stepped into the room.

The first thing I noticed was the pony.  A real wooden pony.  Julie had been given a makeshift model a few months before for a party, but that particular one was gone.  In its place stood something that shocked me.  A single, square metal post, at least four inches by four inches, bearing a hand crank, stood in the center of the room.  At the top was a metal bracket in which a wooden block had been mounted.  It wasn’t any longer than a foot and a half from front to back, the solid oak, oiled and inviting.  The edges had been sanded as well, but hadn’t really been reduced and were still discernible, cutting lines.  All in all, it was a piece of art.  The big thing was that Julie could use the hand crank and raise and lower the bloody thing at a whim.

Julie took my arm and with gentle pressure pushed me forward.  My eyes were locked on the wooden pony, ignoring the other items in the room and both Mike and Julie moved me into position.  The pony itself was low, so low in fact that it only came up mid-thigh, which wasn’t a bad thing at all.  I still had to spread my feet wide though, since the horse was cut at a solid forty-five degree angle. I could feel the wooden edges digging into my thighs!

Mike spent some time securing a pair of black leather bondage cuffs onto my wrists and then secured them to one of the eye hooks embedded in the ceiling with a snap link chain.  At the same time Julie knelt down, moved under the pony, and began cranking the metal handle. I felt the wooden prism under me begin to rise and I shifted uncomfortably, even going up on tip toe as the spine of the pony rose beneath me.  For a moment I thought she was going to keep cranking changing the very definition of the torture device beneath me, but instead she stopped, leaving me struggling to stay off the edge of the pony, my toes already beginning to ache from the strain.

Julie rose, her smallish breasts still bearing the marks from where my nipple clamps had been attached.  She reached out, grabbing hold of the chain dangling from my left breast, the alligator clamp, and she followed it up with her hand.  She opened the toothed vice and I gasped as the blood rushed back into the crushed and chewed up tip.  She tossed the clamp away and then lifted the dangling clover clamp that still swung from the other breast.  Again, with a light tug, she followed the chain upward until she removed that clamp as well.

Her eyes glimmered. “We didn’t say hello,” Julie whispered.

She began spanking my breasts, slapping my boobs back and forth with sharp hard slaps. By the fifth stroke I was gasping, turning slightly, unable to do more that prance on the pony.  The sting and heat infusing my bosom merely accented the burning ache in my calves as my body struggled to remain suspended above the cutting edge of the horse.  I was slightly bent forward too, thanks to the way Mike had secured my hands to the ceiling, so both breasts dangled delicious in front of Julie like ripe grapefruit, ready to be swatted from the branch.  And swat she did.

My legs gave out before Julie’s hand or arm and I lowered myself down onto the spine of her brand new pony even as she was batting my bosom back and forth from one side to the other like a tennis ball at Wimbledon.  The skin of my chest was turning a rosy shade of pink and I began to focus less on the sting and pain of her spanks and more on the fact that something agonizingly sharp was now digging into the soft petals of my sex, spreading the folds outward.  My weight mashed the thin lips between my torso and the wood and I tried to rock to alleviate the hurt.  This did nothing more than move the pain, sending a ripple of discomfort along my perineum and anus before I managed to move back forward.  Then I managed to recover my strength and after that brief, eight second rest, rose back up so that my pussy was no longer pressed tightly to the edge of the pony’s spine.

Julie stepped back, taking a moment in the dim light to examine the delicate colors of my now smarting bosom.  My toes ached as my legs trembled and I looked at her with wanton need, fluids dripping down my thighs to stain the wooden block beneath me.  She reached out and began running her nails down my already sensitive chest, ending each movement with a pincers nail pinch at the tip of each breast.  Each time she did it I gasped and that movement only exacerbated the new burning in my calves.  Once more I dropped down, going flat-footed and grinding my wet, needing pussy into the edge of the pony.

My hips rocked as my legs rested and my sex slid along the sharp spine.  My petals spread wide to either side of the wood and I could practically feel the bruises forming as my weight crushed my pretty flower.  Every second made my hips twitch more and more and I found myself practically humping the pony’s spine, grinding my clit into the sharp edge.  I moaned as Julie continued to torment my bosom, teasing my nipples while whispering little reminders of my servitude.

“Oh I love doing this to you,” she would hiss in my ear, nails scratching at my skin until she could find a nipple to pinch sharply. I rocked and shifted, my own body the means of torment.  I felt fingers along my ankles and realized that Mike was beneath me, putting another set of leather bondage cuffs on, this time around my lower limbs.  I danced in place, trying to keep myself up off the hurting edge of the pony even as part of me wanted to mash my clit against it.

Julie put her hand on my chin and forced me to look over to the side.  There was a wooden post there, approximately three and a half feet high, at least six inches thick and squared off.  At the top was a metal frame that looked like a set of stocks, but with five holes instead of three.  I could easily see where my neck would go, but why extra holes for another set of arms?  The pillar itself was also interesting.  There were a number of metal rings embedded at various points and then down near the bottom, maybe a foot and a half up, were six holes about the width of my thumb, drilled deep into the center.  These baffled me.  

There was also an old friend, or enemy if you prefer.  The Full Bore machine from Kari’s dungeon, easily recognizable from its old stool type frame, the actual seat missing, was sitting in a corner, already plugged in and ready. Underneath the missing seat were two massive dildos, both of them sticking up through the frame.  In turn those dildos were mounted to a powerful motor.  Why call it the Full Bore?  Because when you turn that motor up to maximum, getting full bored in both holes is what happens.  Guess Kari didn’t feel like she needed it anymore.  And there was the coffee table; the scared old wooden tabletop, with gouges and scratches and screw holes still left in the marred surface.  That was there too.  I knew Julie was only getting started on her “dungeon”, but to be honest, I was already impressed.  

“She’s ready,” Mike said, standing up to my side.  Julie grinned at him and then winked at me.  I took a sharp breath, wondering what I was ready for.  I was ready to get down. I was ready to get fucked.  I was ready for hard cock, or maybe a whipping.  The sap even.  I was ready to cum.  But evidently I was ready to go from riding a wooden pony to riding the horse.

In case you don’t know the difference, the wooden pony is a torture device in which the young lady mounted is forced to stand on tip toe in order to prevent the sharp edge from digging into her sex.  There is a burning ache in your calves and toes as you struggle to stay raised, followed by these moments of excruciating agony where you are forced to lower yourself deliberately down, letting the wood split your sex open.  You move up and down, slowly at first, but eventually in this wild ride that makes it look as if you’re cantering a pony, bouncing viciously in the saddle.

The horse is an entirely different kind of thing.  When you’re riding the wooden horse there is no burning in your legs, no ache in your toes, no shifting from left to right trying to fight the strain and exhaustion building in your calves.  When you’re riding a wooden horse your toes don’t touch the ground, all of your weight is on your crotch, and you rock back and forth trying to find a spot between your tailbone and your clit that hasn’t already been pinched and bruised and hurt.  Oddly enough it looks like you’re humping the spine of the horse, rubbing your sex along the ridge.  If you’re lucky you can press down with your thighs, keeping some of your body’s weight off the edge.  If you are unlucky, they’ve bound your legs open, or worse: weighted them.  Julie cranked my ride upward and I felt the wooden edge bury itself hard into my sex, my toes straining to touch the ground until even that little mercy was gone.

I groaned.  It hurt.  And the up and down movement I’d been practicing moved immediately into a back and forth rocking motion that ground my clit and bottom against the edge.  I might as well been fucking a sharp rock for all that it mattered to me. I was buzzing and burning with need but the pain rose and fell in waves, crashing upon my body.

“There,” Julie said, rising up to watch me writhe upon the horse. “It’s your first,” she explained.  “First pony ride in my place.  First wooden horse too.”  She bent down and picked up the clover clamps, the plier like pincers opening.  Slowly, tenderly, she let them close upon my nipples and I let out a harsh whimper.  She held out her hand and Mike handed her a small vibrator which she pressed against my clit.  The sudden intensity, the change from agony to ecstasy was too much for me and I cried out, rocking forward.  I felt hands on me, holding me, touching me, caressing me and Julie did things…

I couldn’t stop it.  I didn’t want to stop it.  I felt it roaring inside of me, the heat and hurt and sting and pain nothing but fuel for the burning.  I threw my head back, panting like a wild beast, my chest throbbing in the bite of the steel pincers.  My clit surged and then my vision blurred and went through a series of flashes, all color and heat and lightning.  My entire body went rigid as I the orgasm blasted through me, taking advantage of the torment and tease these two dominants had inflicted upon me.  Harder and faster than anything I could have accomplished on my own, I exploded with an intensity that was almost frightening.

And then I was off.  Mike was lifting me up, freeing my hands, carrying me twitching out of the dungeon and back to Julie’s bedroom.  I cuddled up into his arms as I was laid into the bed, still lost in the mixture of euphoria and relief.  Julie slid in behind me and I was sandwiched between the two of them.

Twenty minutes later I felt Julie’s hand slipping down my body, probing lightly between my legs.  I still ached, but I rolled slightly and spread myself, my left leg draped across hers while my right went over Mike.  I took a deep breath and smiled as I saw them looking at each other across my breasts.

“I think she handled it quite well,” Julie said softly, but not to me.  Mike the Hardware Guy laughed and nodded.

“I agree.  But it will take many more rides to be sure.”

“Absolutely,” Julie admitted, her fingers finding my wet spot and with light circles pressing in. I groaned.  “But as far as firsts go, it was pretty good,” she said.

Mike smiled, obviously in agreement.  I let out a soft whimper as Julie’s finger slid in deep and that tiny noise changed into a gasp.

“Well Breanne?  Was that a nice first?” she asked, eliciting another groan from my body as my hips began to pump.  I pressed upward, feeling her enter me all the way to the knuckle.  I put my right hand down on Mike, finding his cock, pleased to find it firm already.

“Please?” I whispered. “Please?” I begged.

“Please what?” Julie said, moving almost on top of me, her hand picking up the pace as she thrust a second finger into the sopping wet slit between my legs.

My eyes moved to hers.

“I want seconds…”

BREANNE ERICKSON is known as the "goddess of dark erotica"!  Check out her amazing books at!

Tuesday, February 17, 2015


"Wait! What the hell are you doing?" Julie exclaimed, a look of surprised terror on her face.  We were both looking backward, the somewhat dirty glass of the rear window of my battered, dusty, and now very muddy Ford F-150 made steering a bit more difficult. I only narrowly missed the first steel and concrete staircase, the tires rolling across the slurries of mud that coated the sidewalk.

"What?" I demanded, concentrating on not hitting anything. The wheels spun madly on a slippery patch and the bed of the truck slewed off to the left.  "It's not like they can complain about me driving over the landscaping!" I said loudly as I put deep ruts into the sodden swamp that passed for a walkway leading to Julie's apartment.  And to be fair, I was right.  There wasn't any landscaping.  The ground was bare and the regular runoff was so bad that the lower parts of the next building's foundation were showing. I college a course I took on Geology called it "mass wasting" and wow, was it wasted. The sidewalk that was supposed to lead to Julie's apartment door was covered with slurries of mud that had been deposited during that morning's rainstorm along with whatever caked on dirt had been left their over the last six months.  

"I can't believe you're doing this!" Julie gushed as I cranked the wheel and spun the truck so that the tailgate was pointed at the front door of her soon to be former apartment.  A splash of mud splattered the sides of the truck and Julie looked back through the windshield, blinking.  I could see the pulse in her thin neck and I grinned maniacally.  Finally she turned and glanced back over at me.

"I trust you won't do this at the new apartment complex?" She asked timidly.

I laughed as I put my truck in park.  "Will you punish me if I do?" I asked with a naughty tone in my voice.  I pushed down on the parking break with my flip flop clad foot, the bare toes with the fresh coat of pink paint quite visible.  

"I'm going to punish you for this.  But if you do it at the new place I won't," Julie said darkly, demonstrating quite clearly that she knew what made me tick.  I don't threaten well.  Or more accurately, I threaten very well if you know what to admonish me with.  Leaving me desperate and unsatisfied was definitely the way to get me to cooperate.

I climbed out of the truck carefully, not wanting to squish my toes into the mud, my hand unconsciously going down to smooth the folds of the skirt I was wearing.  It was blue denim and quite nice, except for the fact that it was too short. Cut to barely cover my rump, I had to be just a bit cautious about certain actions, like getting in and out of a vehicle, going up or down stairs, or hell, just sitting. Don't get me wrong; I've got a nice ass.  It's just that if it were up to me it wouldn't be hanging out of my clothing.

And just so you get a complete picture, I was wearing an old tee shirt as well, one of the few remaining tees Kari had gotten me back in college, especially since Julie had cleaned out my closet.  This one was dark blue and had a picture of a golf flag on it with the words "This hole is a par 15."  

Sigh. Innuendo.  It's vicious.

Julie, who was dressed in tight fitting blue jeans and a tee shirt that had an Abercrombie & Fitch logo across the front, looking stylish and suave with her long brown hair and perfect makeup, got out on the other side of the truck and glared at me.  "If anyone from the complex office comes and complains about the tire tracks, you are going to take the blame."

I scoffed as I tip toed on a few pieces of loose gravel in the mud and managed to make it to the concrete slab that served as both porch for Julie and landing for the stairs.  "Complain? About what?  The tracks mucking up their mud?  Christ," I bitched. "Why on earth did you ever move into this dump?"

Julie hopped over to the concrete using the bed of my truck as leverage. "Because it was cheap," she reminded me and I nodded happily. Our eyes met and for a moment there was this burst of electricity and I found myself leaning forward, our eyes locked, this overwhelming desire to kiss her just filling every corner of my mind.  She felt it too and leaned in, our lips touching.  Then the passion burst in and the featherweight kiss became heavy and hard, pressing in on each other.  It left me gasping a moment later, especially when her hands came around and cupped my bottom, bare fingers along the curves.  She'd pulled up my skirt!

"Julie!" I squealed, pushing at her hands with my fingers, trying to get my ass covered back up.

She just laughed and pulled away. "Are you wet?" She asked me, eyes brilliant with mischievous energy.  

I gave her stern glare. "Of course I am.  And it's your fault.  You're the one who told me to wear the ben wa balls today."

"Mmmmm," she murmured. "I know. I like the way your hips rock when they're inside you."

My ben wa balls were one of the easier to bear sex toys I owned.  In essence, they were just two latex covered, golf-ball sized spheres, each which contained a weighted bell inside.  Once inserted into the soft, wet, warm slit between a girl's legs, the two globes rolled and rattled against each other, moved by the motions of her own steps.  The weighted bells caused even more movement, accompanied by a soft, barely heard ringing, that served as even more of a reminder of the sexual torment going on.  I've been wearing ben wa balls off and on for over four years. No batteries, easy to handle, clean, and care for, ben wa balls were something I could tolerate for hours and would keep me wet and ready constantly.  

Julie stepped close again and slipped her right hand under my skirt, the nail of her finger finding my clit.  I gasped as she flicked it once, then shuddered as she ran the rest of her digit through the wet folds of my slit.

"I want you," she whispered.

I grinned. "I want you to.  But we threw out your bed, remember?"

Julie rolled her eyes and pulled her hand out from under my skirt.  She brought the glistening finger up to her mouth and sucked it clean with a daring look. "Well, we'll see what works."  She sighed. "We better get started. We've got to be at the new place by one."  She turned and entered her apartment.

It was... empty.  Or almost.  There was a mound of boxes in the middle of the living room floor, mostly knickknacks and clothes.  Julie had refused to buy new furniture when she started the new job. Her logic had been sound. "Why buy new furniture, move it into my old apartment, then pay for it to be moved again to the new one?"  So instead we'd trashed most of it.  Her nightstand, dresser, dining room table and chairs, the old sofa and easy chair had all been placed out by the dumpster over the last week.  Most of it had disappeared, scavenged by Julie's less fortunate neighbors.  The last thing we'd tossed had been the bed and Julie had spent the previous night at my house.  My mother had put her in the guest room, but she'd sneaked into my bed just a little after ten.  It had been... comforting.

Granted, there was one piece of furniture that neither of us had been willing to throw out.  It was beneath all the boxes and I couldn't even see it.  But I knew it was there, in the middle of the living room.  The unspoken elephant.  I wondered how I would feel when we got down to it.

Julie pointed at the television first. It was wrapped up in bubble wrap.  I grabbed one end and she the other and off we went.  No difficulty getting it out the door or into my truck, though the movement of the ben wa balls in my sex while walking backward was a different experience.  We trudged back inside, got the first of the boxes and loaded my truck.

It took maybe an hour all told and before long the bed of my pickup truck was solid with cardboard.  I stretched and secured a plastic tarp over the cargo since the sky looked dark and gray again and when I went back inside Julie was standing there, looking down at the coffee table.

It was solid oak, heavy and scarred.  Rings from plates and glasses marred its surface and there were nicks and gouges in the wood as well, remnants of screws being driven into the tabletop.  That said it glistened with oil, a broad expanse ready to be used again.

Julie stared down at it quietly. "I'm not sure I'm ready to leave it," she said.

I shrugged. "So don't," I told her.  "We've got room in the truck.  We just have to put it on its side."

She looked up at me. "You don't understand. It's not that.  It's what I used it for here. With you.  It symbolizes this apartment more than anything else I own."

I understood.  Sort of.  I'd been tied down to that table. I'd been whipped on it.  Tormented on it.  Fucked on it.  I'd been oiled and hot waxed on that damn table.  I'd been bound spread eagled and sapped on it.  I'd been bent over and screwed up the ass on it.  I'd been iced on it. Electrified. Pounded. Had oral sex. Caned. Spanked. Eaten off of. Eaten out of. I'd been penetrated with objects on that table.  And those gouges?  Once I'd been secured to the bloody thing with straps and screws drilled right into the surface. So yeah. I understood.

Finally Julie looked up at me.  "Would you mind?" she asked plaintively.

I blinked then cocked my head to the side.  "Mind?  You're my mistress. Just tell me what to do," I said in exasperation.

She shook her head. "No.  I can't. Not now. Like this.

I looked over my shoulder. The door was still wide open.  Anyone could walk in on us.  I sighed.  If it would make her happy though...

I pushed my thumbs into the waistband of my skirt and slipped it down my legs.  My shirt came off next, baring my breasts, the small gold piercing and the similarly colored padlock dangling from my right nipple glimmering in the light.  Gingerly I sat down on the table, then laid back, lifting my arms above my head, smiling up at her.  I spread my legs wide, pretending my ankles were bound to the legs of the table, stretching me open, my pussy aimed at the doorway.

"Is this what you want, Mistress?" I asked softly as Julie slowly dropped down to her knees, her eyes locked on my body.  Her hands came up and began running up and down my torso, going from knee up to my elbow, touching me lightly and delicately. It almost tickled, but I knew she meant it in a loving manner.  Then her hand found my moistness again and she leaned in close.

"Breanne?  Can I hurt you?" she asked softly.

I nodded. "Of course you can," I reassured her.

"Are you sure?" She asked again.

I took a deep breath and nodded.  Her thumb and forefinger found my clit and began rubbing it back and forth between her fingers. Slowly the pressure increased until my hips were writhing and swinging.  Then the pinching sensation intensified and I let out a soft cry as the pain shot up through me from between my legs.  I struggled to stay spread out and open for her and her left hand came up, flashing fast.  The palm smacked my bare breast, spanking it hard, then flew to the other side of my body and repeated the blow.  At first it just took my breath.  But then as I began to suck in air, panting as her hand turned the white cream of my soft curves into rose colored heat, I seemed to melt. Her fingers continued to pinch and tease my clit, my nipples throbbed with the stinging heat, and then I cried out, throwing my head back and exploding wetly, once more leaving a puddle of juice on the table between my legs.

And that was that.  Julie stood, leaving me there as she looked around the room.  For maybe a minute I concentrated on breathing, and then got to my feet.  I wobbled for a second, then found my skirt and shirt, pulling them back over my body without a second thought.  

“I’ve changed my mind,” Julie suddenly declared.  I blinked and looked up at her.  

“Ehh?” I said intelligently.
“We will take it,” she said, pointing at the table.

I let out a chuckle as I smoothed my skirt back down, still feeling the euphoria of the orgasm.  “Sure, Julie. Whatever you’d like.”  

Together we manhandled the massive piece to the truck, mostly by sliding it along, then counting out to lift it up, setting it on its side.  Finally it was in place and I closed the gate and pulled the tarp over the table.

“Ready for this?” I asked as we moved back around to the front of the truck, trying hard not to get our feet muddy.

Julie grinned.  “Of course I am.  And you are too!  Let’s go meet the delivery guys!”

Breanne Erickson is known as "the goddess of dark erotica" and her amazing, seductive adventures show the love and care that goes into a BDSM relationship.  Delve into the real shades of sexual submissiveness with Breanne Erickson's Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut and see how a real woman handles those unique urges!