Saturday, December 13, 2014

The Knotted Rope

This morning I received approximately 60 pages of manuscript from Breanne, all of it concerning last weekend's "Abuse Breanne's Pussy Party."  And while we will not be posting it here on the blog since it will be included in Breanne's "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 11" (Ten is already complete and we're just editing now,) there was one little section that I thought was so amazing that I want to share it.  So enjoy.  - MA

So I took a breath and another step.

The rope was just a little thicker than my thumb and piss poor quality.  Strands peeled off, essentially making the entire length into a brush that scoured and grated my pussy.  I made it to the first knot with two baby steps and another cane stroke that wasn’t quite as bad as the first two.  My clit hit that knot and I felt the awful texture of the rope grab hold of my clit and seemingly pull it down under me as I tried to go over it.  Then there was this sort of half erotic, half agonizing pop as my clit was abraded and the knot slipped down through my petals.  I’d of course ripened, my body’s natural defenses against such personal calamity.  Gushing goo, the knot slid down through my open flower, soaking up fluid and scratching tiny red lines across the inside folds of my labia.  

Walking a knotted rope is a tri-part experience.  The first, which I’ve described above, is what I like to refer to as “the clitoral impact” or “humping the hedgehog.”  Clitoral Impact is where the knot first hits your clit. You feel the pressure and work up the courage to rise up as high as you can on tip toe, your calves burning and your toes aching, knowing that it’s all pointless anyway.  The knot presses at your clit and you feel how rough it is, like a cat’s tongue or a splintery wooden board.  And then, despite every instinct screaming “get the fuck off the rope!” you push forward.  Your clit doesn’t just rub against it.  It get’s snagged, the soft flesh pulled downward and under as the knot works its way into the opening rift of your sex.  The knot moves past and while the rope still excoriates that little nub, it slips back into position, waiting for the next knot to strike it.  But the really horrible part is that if you get aroused, wet and wanting, if you suddenly feel the urge, you start to thrust your hips at the knot, letting it strike your clit over and over before you finally “hump the hedgehog”, crushing your clit against it before you even try to ride the swell.

The second part is what I like to call “the pop.”  The knot slides through your petals, and if you aren’t hurting too much from having your clit practically ripped off, then this is where a massive bulge in the two thin lines of burning heat blossoms to score the entire width of each fold of your labia.  Then the line dips and the knot literally pops into the opening of your vaginal tract.  The knot actually goes in deep enough that for a moment, you think you’re about to get fucked and your body opens up, preparing for the penetration.  It’s just a response, a physical instinct triggered by the pressure. But no, it’s just the knot, and while it’s there it does this little round swirl to tenderize your opening just enough to torment you.  Then it moves on.

The third part begins with the excruciating passage of the knot over your perineum, which has already been severely scratched from the rope.  It’s the lowest point on your body and technically is taking the most strain.  This part of you is also horribly sensitive, tender, and it’s what is really making you wince.  You hurry, past this, knowing that speed won’t help but since it’s your body in charge, and not your brain, it doesn’t matter.  The knot then dips again, but it’s not this popping sensation.  It’s just a dip, but since that dip is actually your bottom, it’s like wiping your butt with a dry luffa sponge. (Don’t try that by the way. It’s not pleasant.)  The knot sits there for a moment because you pause.  You’re past the perineum and you’re privately saying “thank God!” but you know that you still have the tender crack of your ass to go.  So you have to gather enough energy to get the last bit over. So despite the fact that you are literally sitting on the knot, letting it dig its way a little into your ass, you finally move and let it scour its path through your buttocks until you are free and clear, only another four inches away from another knot.

Now, try doing that with a madman smacking your ass and tits with a cane in order to keep you steadily moving.  One of these days I’m going to walk a knotted rope that is smooth, thin, and soft, while those watching let me take my fucking time.

Monday, December 8, 2014

The Little School Girl: Saturday Detention by Michael Alexander

Did you enjoy Michael Alexander's recent tale, "The Little School Girl: Summer"?  If you did then here is a real treat!  Michael has finished and posted a prequel of sorts entitled "The Little School Girl: Saturday Detention."  Here's a tiny excerpt but you can find the entire thing at Michael Alexander Stories, right now!  Check it out!

The little school girl was only marginally surprised to discover that she wasn’t the only student who had been ordered to report to the Principal’s office that warm Saturday morning. A bench with several seats sat along the opposite wall from his office, occupied by two girls. She recognized Ann immediately; a popular sophomore whose small, shy smile was enough to make hearts melt.  Ann wore a pleasant summer dress; white with little blue flowers that went well with her shoulder length brown hair.  The bosom of the dress was elastic and pulled tight, emphasizing Ann’s impressive bust. The little school girl suppressed a moment’s jealousy as she admired the large curves that Ann’s dress framed well.  The little school girl’s own bosom was nothing compared to Ann’s and she felt the lack acutely.  It was like comparing apples to cantaloupes. 

Sitting two chairs further down was Liz, a spitfire of a girl with a bad attitude and enough black eyeliner on to qualify for her own line of cosmetic products.  Her sable colored hair obviously came from a bottle, the dark locks going well with the punk rocker - Goth look Liz was going for.  A silver ring flashed at Liz’s nostril, with a matching piece of hardware in her lip.  There were odd little bumps where the tips of her breasts pressed against her shirt.  The little school girl’s eyes widened as she took in Liz’s ripped fishnet stockings, a black leather skirt, the combat boots with green neon laces, and the loose and half torn tee-shirt that hung off of one shoulder, sporting the words “bad to your boner” between the outlines of the pierced nipples.  The meaning couldn’t have been clearer.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Jeans That Rock Sex

Well, in all fairness, I have no idea how these jeans fit, except when they're tugged down and showing all the right amount of skin.  But I'll leave it to my readers to tell me if these jeans aren't the sexiest things you've seen in awhile! Go Alexander Wang! Brilliant.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

V - Part Three

If you haven't read V - Part One, or V - Part Two you really should. Otherwise you might be lost and no one wants that. - Bre

I admit I did lunch first, and that was in my truck, after going through a drive-in.  I ate in my truck mostly because I didn’t have any clothes and the thought of me going in just my duster was just a little bit frightening.  Which in hindsight is odd considering what I’d already done that morning.  All I can say is if I’m not forced into it, I probably wouldn’t. Does that make sense? So I had an hour and a half of peace between the drive to Kari’s place and meal itself.  I pulled up in front of Kari’s condo, climbed out of my truck and headed up to the front porch.

Kari’s landscaping resembles a jungle and my favorite plant is the massive oleander bush positioned just in front of her door.  This particular foliage meant that anyone standing on that section of the porch would be completely concealed from the street, which was a good thing because Kari had made it clear that if I were going to ring the bell, ever, I’d better be naked while doing it.  So I shucked out of my coat, folded and draped it over one arm, and stood there in just my high heels, the butterfly strapped to my loins but silent, with the vibroballs remote tucked into one of the straps.  

I took a moment to study myself.  My breasts were the worst, sporting some livid bruises as well as about two dozen raised lines.  There were more of course, but a bunch of them had sort of melded into this one massive strip, right across both nipples and it was difficult to discern individual cane strokes.  I twisted slightly, trying to catch sight of my bottom.  To be honest, it was barely showing the damage caused by the paddle.  Most of the redness had gone and except for a few dark rose colored blotches, my ass was fine.  It didn’t even really hurt anymore.  

The rest of me was peachy keen too so I rang the doorbell, my bottom lip caught between my teeth, and waited.  It didn’t take long.  Robert opened the door in all his splendid glory.  He was naked, just like me, and wearing this complicated leather harness that wrapped around the base of his very long, hard, and slick cock.  I smiled and reached out, taking his firm length in my hand, squeezing and rubbing the oil that coated his shaft along the length as I stepped in.

“Hi, Bre.”  Robert wrapped his arms around me as I fondled his genitals.  His cock was hard in my hand and I did more than just squeeze him. I rubbed him. I stroked him.  And the only thing preventing me from dropping down to my knees and sucking on him or opening my coat and begging him to take me, was the woman who was watching from the living room sofa. I let go of Robert.

Kari is a tall blonde with stately curves and a beauty that borders on divine.  She is confidant, strong willed, obsessive compulsive, orderly, neat, and above all, composed.  When Kari is in the room everyone and everything sort of defers to her naturally. I’ve seen plants lean in toward Kari.  It’s disturbing actually. Kari is the sort of person whom everyone around her just asks, “how can I help you?”  She speeds like a formula one racecar driver, in a candy apple red Jaguar convertible, and never gets a ticket.  And it’s not like she flashes the cops either.  I’m the kind of girl who shows skin in the hopes of getting off.  Not Kari.  She would accept the ticket.  It just never seems to happen.

She was wearing a pair of gray gym shorts and a matching tee shirt, both with the words “PINK” emblazoned upon them, in pink.  She was barefoot and both of her feet seemed to glisten with oil.  Her long blond hair was straight as a rail and hung halfway down her back.  Her nails were painted a soft sapphire and her blue, blue eyes seemed to glitter.  Robert brushed past me and immediately laid down on the floor in front of the couch, his hard cock right beneath Kari.  She looked away from me and immediately put her feet back down on Robert, rubbing his shaft with the soles of her feet almost mindlessly.  I felt a momentary surge of jealousy.  And it was a weird bit of emotion too.  Part of me was jealous of Kari for being able to do that to Robert, almost like it was an afterthought, and I couldn’t help thinking how good that would feel on my feet.  And the other part of me was jealous of Robert. I’d love to be spread out Kari’s feet, her toes playing with my body, keeping me moist and needy.

I put my coat down and stepped properly into the living room.  Kari has specific ways of doing things so I immediately stepped right in front of her, on the other side of Robert so that he was between us, and knelt.  I spread my legs wide, placed my hands on my thighs, palms up, straightened my back, and presented.  Kari ignored me.  She continued to rub Robert’s prick with her toes.  The minutes began to creep by and I tried to be patient. It was a test.  A simple test.  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.  This was just giving me more time to recover.  And that was a good thing.  Right?

“Robert?  Turn on the butterfly and vibroballs.  To low please.”  Kari’s voice was soft but her declaration made my eyes snap open.  Robert’s fingers were already digging at the butterfly vibrator set above my clit and a moment later the familiar vibrations started up.  A moment later and slight tickle along my waist the rumble of the vibroballs joined in, making my loins tighten and spasm in delight.  And it did feel good.

Kari continued playing footsie with Robert’s cock while I knelt and trembled. It didn’t take me long to sensitize and feel the wetness. I stared at her adorable, delicate toes going up and down Robert’s throbbing shaft with increasing difficulty. I wanted… something.  I wanted his cock inside me. I wanted her foot caressing me. I wanted to cum.

She left me in that state of need until I was actually trembling.  Then she suddenly pulled her feet up, wiped them off with a small towel, and stood.

“Come, both of you.”  

I practically leapt to my feet as Robert got up off the floor.  Together we followed “PINK” down the hall and then into the first bedroom.  I had been expecting it.  Considering what Kari had been asked to do to me, either the iBench or the St. Andrew’s Cross made sense.  The dungeon, also known as “Breanne’s Bedroom” was decorated in a mixture of Spanish Inquisition and BDSM porn shoot.  There were several pieces of furniture scattered around the room, some of which were old friends, and some of which weren’t friends at all.

As I suspected, she led me to the iBench.  The perverted and demented offspring of a nautilus machine and a 15th century stretching rack, Kari’s iBench was all black painted metal and leather.  She pointed me toward it and I sat down as she led Robert over to the stocks.  As soon as he was bent over, his head and wrists firmly secured, she returned to me.  I was already laying down and had even taken the liberty of getting one of the ankle cuffs on, which I thought was damned nice of me.  Kari finished by securing my other ankle, and even before handling my wrists, cranked the gear shaft beneath my legs which pulled the metal cables threaded through the pulleys at either end of the bottom of the “I”.  I felt my thighs ripple as my legs were pulled open and a minute later I was literally doing the splits, albeit while laying down on my back.  Kari moved around to my arms and quickly buckled another set of cuffs around my wrists, clipping them above my head and pulling my arms away from my torso and securing me soundly.

Stretched out and still buzzing I felt the waves of pleasure slipping through me.  Kari worked fast, turning off both vibrators.  I groaned as she pulled the vibroballs out of my body, and then sort of sighed in relief when the butterfly was removed as well.  She produced a new toy; a thick black, motorized anal plug along with a bottle of my Stinging O.  I concentrated on not hyperventilating as she first swirled the plug through the sopping wet petals of my sex, and then with almost childlike delight, poured a liberal amount of oil over the plug.  I gasped as she rubbed it lightly against my clitoris, transferring just enough of the Stinging O oil to my little nub to send shivers through me.  Then she moved the plug lower and pressed the lubricated tip up against my back door.  I groaned. I’m not terribly fond of anything being stuck in my ass, even a slicked up anal plug.  The one Kari had put into me was also a little wider than the ones I preferred.  We had a little bit of a pushing match as my lower half resisted my brain giving order to relax, but eventually Kari won, forcing the anal plug past my defenses and burying it firmly and thickly in my posterior.  Then she started up the vibrations, jacking the controller settings to full power.  The cool tingle disappeared almost instantly, replaced with a steadily growing heat that quickly felt as if someone had shoved a hot iron up my ass.

Generally vibrations in my bottom don’t do a lot to me.  I’ve had them combine with the vibroballs or my RVP and have some interesting effects sexually, but by themselves?  It just wasn’t happening.  Add in the discomfort of the Stinging O, which was searing both my entire rear end as well as my clit, and you can imagine how unsexual I was feeling.  Kari stood up and moved back to Robert and I was left in sexual limbo, limbs bound open, my sex on display, a thick rubber plug up my ass and my entire colon shaking and burning like someone had rammed firecracker up inside me.  I lifted my head long enough and often enough to keep an eye on Kari.  She had put ankle cuffs on Robert, along with a spreader bar, and was now in the process of freshly lubricating his penis.  She drew up a small stool and sat down, looking for all intents and purposes like a farm girl in the process of milking a cow.

Okay. Just for the record - yes, I have milked cows before.  But it’s not a regular part of my routine because we don’t keep any dairy cows.

And of course Robert doesn’t have an udder, so Kari’s ministrations were all about the downward rubbing and squeezing movement of her hands.  Let me tell you - if Robert HAD been a cow, he’d have been squirting.  Kari kept at him until he was groaning and it was only then that she let go of his cock and moved out of the way so I could see.  Robert’s shaft was a brilliant red with purple highlights and he looked like he was so close to popping that he could taste it.  Even without her touch his cock jerked and bounced, obviously trying to get to climax on its own.  Actually that was a little disturbing.  She had him so on edge.

And I could sort of relate to that.  I wasn’t at that particular point. On edge I mean, but I’d been in that position before and it sucks.  Kari again wiped her hands and turned around.  She picked up a leather sap from off one of the nearby shelves and stepped right up between my outstretched legs.  My breath caught in my throat.  Was it time?  

“Did you miss any?” Kari asked, holding up the leather sap and prolonging the excruciating wait.  I nodded frantically.

“One.  I only had two orgasms,” I admitted to her.  She smiled.  

“So that makes forty strokes,” she murmured, clearly pleased.  Her eyes slid down my body until I thought I could feel her actual gaze on my still burning clit.  I watched as she lifted the square headed leather sap at least a foot above my open groin, breathless with anticipation.  And then the sap fell.

I think by now everyone knows how much I actually like getting pussy whipped. I know. Psychotic, right?  I don’t understand it either.  Even Kari once said to me “Breanne! Holy shit girl!  No one should like what I’m doing to you, much less get turned on by it and want more!”  But that’s me.  I’ve said over and over that I’m damaged.  Mental.  Warped.  Sick. Deviant.  I mean seriously, what sort of girl wants someone spanking her clitoris with a flexible leather paddle while she’s bound spread open and taut, unable to move, with a fucking anal plug up her ass?

Well not me.  Obviously.  Scrap the anal plug PLEASE.

The first impact of the sap flattened both my clitoris and my folds with equal force and immediately I felt this pronounced sting that started at the top of my slit and then radiated outward.  It stung so badly that I managed to get my ass off the bench, which when you consider how my legs were stretched out perpendicular to my body, and that I was bound so tight that even twisting was a challenge, made my pumping loins quite impressive.  The sting lasted maybe three or four seconds before immediately become a hot burn, scalding away along my skin until it literally felt as if someone had upended a pint of hot wax over my sex.  Then the burn began to subside, being replaced by a deep seated heat that came from under the epidermis, from the muscle tissue beneath, hot enough to fry an egg.

Or so I thought.  Probably not though it sure felt like it.  Kari’s response to my initial sapping was to do it again, harder.  The sap bit into me in exactly the same spot and I got to go through it all again.  Horrible sting. Scalding heat. Deep tissue broiling.  I surged upward, fighting my bonds, crying out as my toes curled inside my high heels, every nerve on fire.  The buzzing in my ass only complicated the sensations as my derriere tightened around the vibrating plug.  Kari seemed to love the expression on my face so she smacked the sap back down on my sex.

And that’s when it happened.  The process of your mind comprehending outside stimuli is a complex process.  A nerve ending detects a sensory input; heat, cold, and pressure.  The presence and intensity of the stimulus is sent through the nervous system to the spine, where depending on the source of the nerve impulse, determines whether instinctive reaction is necessary.  For example, if you put your hand on a hot burner, your brain never gets the chance to tell your hand it’s fucking stupid and to get off the God damned burner. Your spinal cord does it, wanting to minimize damage to your hand and not wanting to wait for the signal to get to your brain.  If the stimuli doesn’t provoke an immediate response, then the information goes to the brain, where it is analyzed and categorized and eventually the brain decides how to respond to it.

My spine works just fine, which is why my legs were jerking with the instinctive reaction to close up, to smash my knees together in order to guard my tender privates from the maniacal sadist sapping my sex.  But with my ankles and feet tied to opposite corners of the iBench, there wasn’t much in the way of instinctive response my body was capable of accomplishing.  This meant the signals next stop was my brain.  And my brain was fucked up big time.  The sap struck my clit and my brain recognized the pain.  But then, before it could even fizzle, something mixed with that pain sensation and suddenly it wasn’t pain anymore.  Or… yes it was… but it was more. I cried out, bucking.  Something else was there, underneath the hurt.  It wasn’t quite pleasure but it was close enough to it that the signals began to cross, to lose cohesion, to mix and intertwine.  Suddenly the impact of the leather sap on my clit wasn’t just agony. It was ecstasy.  It was both.

The sound of Kari’s sap striking my petals changed as I gushed wetly, soaking the flexible leather pad with my juices.  My chest heaved with exertion as my body began the process of climbing that mountain toward climax, toward orgasm and my entire sex tingled madly.  Kari ignored it all and struck again, beating my petals downward, the strokes sounding like a spoon hitting fresh pudding.  Kari seemed to dig in, as if she were trying to literally smack my poor sex right off my body.

“Twenty-seven,” she breathed loudly as I stopped crooning.  I collapsed downward against the padded bench, every muscle feeling like I’d just been stuck in a taffy pulling machine and stretched.  I ached everywhere, especially between my legs.  The effects of orgasm began to subside and the tension that held me motionless and taut between my bonds flowed out of me.  

Kari put the sap down on my tummy and stood up, heading back over to Robert.  A fresh coat of oil was poured into both her hands and she resumed her milking position, rubbing and stroking his cock with steady pulls.  I took a deep breath and listened to Robert’s groans, savoring the sound of his torment.  Don’t get me wrong - I’m not a sadist myself. I don’t get turned on by hurting people. Not ever.  But what Kari was doing to him wasn’t technically painful.  It was like when we used to tie men down to our bed in college, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of their sore, painful cocks, long after they begged for release.  It was sort of like that.  I liked the idea of Robert straining, the sight of his muscles bulging with tension.  I could close my eyes and imagine seeing his cock; hard and straight and straining, bright red from the friction of Kari’s hands, the head turning purple.  And then I imagined that throbbing member plunging into me, driving home in one single thrust, buried to the hilt.  

She left me alone for ten minutes, working Robert right back up to the edge and she didn’t let go of his shaft until he was begging to be allowed to cum.  The second those words left his lips she released his cock, leaving him trembling as she came back over to me.  She stood between my outstretched legs, her hands glistening with oil, and she put them down on my thighs.  Slowly she began to work the excess oil into my skin, and trust me - there was a lot of it.  It felt amazing, even when her fingers went to my pussy, the hot and swollen petals of my sex tender under her touch.  She began rubbing me lightly and waves of pleasure shot up from my sex, straight to my brain, sending shivers through every little nerve.  

It took Kari only about four or five minutes to put me back on the back toward orgasmic release.  I’m not even sure why she did it.  I still had thirteen strokes of the sap to take and the requirement was for me to cum three times.  I had one under my belt, but it had taken twenty-seven spanks.  There was no way I was going to be able to cum again two more times.  It just wasn’t physically possible.  Hell, even once was unlikely as…

Kari slipped two fingers into me.

I wasn’t exactly doing the math at that point.  All I knew was that I was wet, full, and someone was pumping something through me with a clarity I rarely experience. Honestly, I’m something of a bubblehead and this… this was just intense and sharp and totally real.  I let out a soft moan as her oil slick fingers pushed inward, spearing me thoroughly.  It felt amazing.  I tried to rock my hips again, but there wasn’t enough play in the ropes.  Kari kept going, each push of her hand forcing me a few more steps up the path.  Suddenly the idea of another orgasm didn’t seem so far-fetched.

If I were a cello, then Kari would be a cellist.  If I were a rose, Kari would be a horticulturalist.  If I were a mountain, Kari would be the climber set to conquer my peaks.  But I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut, and Kari is my mistress.  And she knows me better than I know myself.  Her hands fluttered between my legs, driving me slowly and completely bananas.  I churned and twisted, needing more than she was giving me, working myself into a froth over her ministrations.  And then, when I was right where she wanted me, she lifted the sap, kept the two fingers of her right hand buried in my snatch, and proceeded to strike my clitoris with sharp, intense strokes that sent my poor brain into apoplexy.  

I didn’t count but she did, pumping her hand violently through my folds, two fingers becoming three as she slapped my clitoris with the sap.   I bucked and twisted and fought and basically tried to break free of the bondage I’d been secured in, but all that was more involuntary than anything meaningful.  And the point of being tied up is so that you have no control.  So that you CAN fight and scream and twist, desperate for relief.  Her fingers slammed into me as she peppered my slit with the sap.  My toes curled. I flung my head back, arching my spine.  My fingers curled into fists and all I could think about was the heat and pain and pleasure and oh my God I’m going to fucking cum…

And I did.  Right there.  I think she hit me more than forty times, but I’m not sure.  The blows stopped when I hit the apogee of my climax and all she did was wiggle her fingers inside me.  Eventually I began to relax and when I did she pulled her hand out of my pussy and began releasing me. I shuddered.  The vibrating anal plug continued to buzz in my bottom by I ignored it. I felt amazing.  I felt… loose.  My legs were jelly.  My head cotton-swabbed and soaked with sexual release.  God knows what endorphins and adrenaline and dopamine contents were in my blood, but it must have been pretty high dosages.  I’ve said it once but I’ll say it again.  Nothing beats climax.  No drug on this planet beats what a good, wholesome, full body, one hundred percent involved orgasm can do for you.  I highly recommend it.

As soon as my hands were free I sat up.  I was still in a daze and frankly, there was enough lingering hurt from between my legs that I was pretty sure I was done for the evening.  Except… I wasn’t.  I let out a groan as I rose to my feet. Kari had moved back across the room to Robert where she was busily rubbing away at his still rock solid cock. I almost felt bad for him, except I’d just gotten my pussy whipped in order to earn my orgasm.

“Kari?” I said softly, not really wanting to interrupt.  She glanced over at me.

“What?” she asked.

“I have to go. I’m supposed to go and have three more orgasms in ninety minutes,” I told her.

She snorted. “Good luck with that.  You’re pretty much done.”

I nodded. “I know, but I have to try.  At least.”

Kari shrugged. “Do what you want.  I’m happy with what I did to you.”

I couldn’t help grinning. “Me too,” I replied.  Robert let out a sweet groan.  “Okay,” I said.  “I’m going for a walk.  See y’all in an hour and a half.”

I grabbed my duster on the way out and still with the anal plug vibrating in my ass, couldn’t find any peace much less arousal. I began walking Kari’s complex and nothing really happened. On and on, the minutes ticking by.  I found myself back in front of Kari’s place, the duster swirling around my body, the late afternoon sun leaking through the verdant trees.

I began walking.  The vibrator in my ass wasn’t enough to sexually excite me and all it did was make my exhaustion seem that much worse.  I kept the buttons tight and rested frequently, my mind sifting back over the intensity of it all.  Mike’s spanking, Julie’s caning, and of course Kari’s sapping.  I thought about it, the demands of the assignment, and the number of orgasms I would have had to actually have had I been able.  A full eighteen.  I hadn’t even counted them before.  How the hell would I have been able to do that many?

An hour later I pulled out my phone and called one particular number.  I wasn’t surprised when she answered after just one ring.

“I’ve got it all planned, Breanne!  Just make sure you’re here by noon next Saturday,” Julie gushed excitedly.  “I’ve invited everyone!”

I swallowed hard, my pussy already aching and I could hear her eagerness on the phone

“It’s going to hurt too!”