Monday, June 27, 2016

Responsible - Part One



“I am not responsible,” I declared in a tense and very strained voice, “for cum stains.” I glanced over to my left, looking at Kari as she laughed in response. Her delicate fingers shifted gears and the convertible’s engine seemed to hum in time with the vibroballs.

“You aren’t supposed to be cumming at all,” she said darkly. Her eyes danced over my twitching, exposed body and gave me a quick appraisal. “Are you close? You can always turn the vibroballs off, you know.”

I glared at her. I was agitated; mostly at being in this predicament in the first place. The Thrusting Anal Vibe, which she’d unceremoniously slid into my bottom that morning, wriggled inside my ass, its own oscillations just slightly off-beat when compared to the incessant buzz of the vibroballs Kari had popped into the opposite opening.

“I mean lubricant,” I stressed as my pussy tightened up around the twin spheres oscillating in my sex. “Maybe you should have let me wear panties.” It came out sort of snarly and Kari patted my bare leg, her fingers gliding along my upper thigh.

“You know the rules;” she said lightly. “No cumming. Turn the vibroballs off if you must.”

I bit my lip. Yes, that was certainly an option. But so was just saying “screw it” and letting a massive orgasmic climax rip through me like a bullet through a beer can. She hadn’t been too specific about the punishment so maybe being naughty was worth it.

“And in case you’re thinking that the punishment might be worth it, be aware that after I put you through your paces later I will strap you into a chastity belt and deny you orgasm for at least a week.

The color drained from my face. Kari had actually done that to me once. I’d nearly gone insane and there were still streaks of banana fucking nuts crazy in me when such an ordeal is even mentioned. I don’t handle denial well. Oh sure, two or three days I can handle, provided you don’t mind a very moody, emotionally distraught, desperate to fuck anything even remotely cock shaped, girl around you. But a week? By Day 5 I’m sort of beyond caring what I can manage to use to bring myself to orgasm. I’ll hump a chainsaw in that state. And at Day 7? Well… it’s not pretty.

The front of the peasant blouse I was wearing fluttered up thanks to the cold air blasting out of Kari’s air conditioning and I squealed, arms coming up to smooth the thin, pleated material back down over bare breasts. It wasn’t easy. The clamps got in the way.

“Look,” Kari continued ignoring the flashing bosom, the hardened tips of my breasts, and the copper wire coated clamps. “I don’t see what your problem is. You’ve already turned the vibroballs off three times and you get to leave them off for a full thirty minutes. That’s more than enough time to get your libido in check.”

“Yeah,” I snorted. “While my tits and clit fry,” I said. Kari might have thought that thirty minutes of electricity shooting through my clit and nipples would be a counterpoint to the intense stimulation of the vibroballs, but she was wrong. At least when the Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulator was set to level one, or two, or even three. That wasn’t painful at all. In fact, it was more like a caress. I’d reeled from one near orgasmic precipice to another.

Kari grinned but didn’t reply.

I knew what she’d tried to set up - a sort of sexual paradox. Sure, I could turn off the vibroballs, letting them go silent inside me, supposedly reducing the overwhelming sexual need to explode. But she also required something else. I had to turn on the mobile TENS Unit. The control unit was tucked away in the bag against my side and had been there since nine that morning. Kari had arrived, sent me to the conference room to get dressed, then wired me up. Along with some other sexual indignities. When I’d emerged fifteen minutes later, three sets of wires ran from the top of my shoulder bag to various points of my anatomy. Both nipples were caught in small, understated clamps with enough exposed copper wire to make it clear that the point wasn’t to crush the tips of my breasts, but to send voltage through each tender nub. A third set of wires ran along my side and into the waistband of the micro-skirt I was wearing. The wire then reappeared beneath the hem before going to the third clamp, which Kari had eagerly attached to my clit.

Yeah. You heard me right. The wire came back out under the hem. Fricking micro-skirts. While standing the six inch length of material barely covered my pussy and had to be worn beneath the hips, risking a twitch that would send the whole thing crashing to my ankles. But even that wasn’t the bad part. The bad part was that if I elected to turn off the vibroballs again it would be the fourth time. Fourth time equaled fourth level. And while the first three settings on the transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulator had felt pleasant, ranging from a soft caress to heavier petting, level four was more like getting a hard, twisting pinch to each of the affected areas. Spending thirty minutes cringing each second as an invisible hand tweaked my nipples and clit wasn’t exactly the most appealing way to spend an afternoon.

On the flip side, we could be back at the restaurant where I’d been stared at constantly. Even the waitress had commented on the “novelty” of my attire. I’d blushed crimson while Kari had explained that I was a nympho humiliation pain slut and that I “liked” dressing that way. The waitress had been intrigued and Kari had even told her about the Thrusting Anal Vibrator I had up my ass, not to mention the damn TENS Unit and the vibroballs. I’d practically died of mortification when Kari had invited the girl to flip up the peasant blouse to see the clamps! Thank God we were in a back booth!

Back in Kari’s car I felt the wetness between my legs. My hips churned, working me against the trembling vibroballs and the thrusting anal vibrator, jammed deep in my ass. I knew right then, without a doubt, that I was leaking onto Kari’s expensive, leather car seat.

Serves her right.

We drove on in silence, hurtling up I-45 through the Woodlands up into Conroe. Traffic was horrible, despite the early afternoon and I kept glancing through the window, worried I was going to make the commute even more dangerous when some attentive driver noticed the redhead fuckslut, wearing clothing inappropriate for almost every venue, sitting in the red convertible with the blond hottie tottie behind the wheel.

“Where the hell are we going?” I asked grumpily, though my attitude was more a reflection of the growing stress building between my legs. Had I been allowed, I’d have jammed my fingers down between my legs and rubbed my clit until I’d cum. But that wasn’t permitted and despite the ticking time bomb inside me, threatening a rather impressive orgasm, I wanted to hold off as long as possible before enduring level 4 on the TENS Unit.

“The Becker Account,” Kari replied. “Rick wanted to meet with me so we could see the new retaining wall.

My eyes widened and I groaned. Rick Spratlin was a landscaping contractor Kari had been working with lately and I’d spoken with him a number of times on the phone. I hadn’t met him though and I silently cursed Kari Anders for setting me up. I was dressed like a two dollar whore, wearing only enough clothing to keep from being immediately indecent, and that was only if you threw out the obvious reference to my private parts that the clothing itself made. Remember, sometimes what is covered, and how it's covered can be sexier than plain nudity itself. I’m no dummy. I know that my clothes screamed “FUCKSLUT! PLEASE USE ME FOR YOUR OWN PLEASURE IMMEDIATELY!”

I made it another five minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore. The fucking dildo in my bottom. The vibroballs buzzing in my pussy. The utter humiliation of my state of dress. The wires leading to the clamps. It was just too much. Kari and I were already deep into the woods west of I-45, on the edge of the Sam Houston National Forest and I was on the cusp of orgasmic climax. With trembling fingers I turned off the vibroballs, gasping in both frustration and relief as the sexual force began to ebb and fade. I groaned, moving away from the precipice.

“Hey, get the TENS Unit on. Right now,” Kari ordered, giving me a somewhat stern glance. I nodded, taking a deep breath, reaching back into the bag on my side. I passed the Thrusting Anal Vibrator controller and grabbed the TENS Unit, turning the two dials up on either side. Immediately I felt the first jolt as the little machine pumped a few volts of electricity down each wire, through my nipples and clit, and then back up to the machine. I raised the level and the next pulse that hit me felt more like someone tapping on my body. Level three with a soft squeeze. And then each dial read “4”. I braced myself and got exactly what I was expecting. I let out a wheeze as the first real pain of the day hit me.

I let out a whimper as the TENS Unit let me go, only to catch me again with the sensation a second later. Pulses shot out from the machine, tenderly frying my clit and nipples as I struggled to sit still. My pussy tightened repeatedly and I realized that I’d reached a point where turning on the TENS Unit was actually detrimental.

“I’m… I’m…” I panted. “”Not sure…. If…”

Kari looked over at me. “Spit it out, Bre. What’s the problem?”

I closed my eyes, mouth open as a spasm of tremors rushed through me. “I’m not sure….sure… can’t… this…. Just… might make… me…”

“Cum?” Kari asked. She laughed. “Well, if you do then clearly we’ve reached a point where it makes no difference if you’ve got the TENS Unit on, or the vibroballs.” She said stoically. “So if you do cum then you can leave both on. Additional orgasms will merely result in us upping the levels on all three toys.” She pointed at a private drive. “Ah. Here we are.” She said.

My eyes snapped open. “What?” I demanded, through the sharp pinches to each nipple and my clit.

“We’re here,” Kari said.

“No! I meant about turning up the levels. You can’t be serious!” The convertible turned onto the well paved roadway and hummed through some rather gorgeous woods. I sat there, right on the verge of cumming.

“You heard me. If you cum now we’ll have to keep everything on and every additional orgasm we’ll turn up the levels.”

“But… but….” I stammered.

Kari patted my bare leg. “I know. If I were you I’d try very hard to control yourself.”

A huge house appeared before us and there was a drive around toward the garage area that Kari took. Six pickup trucks were parked and the fence gate was open. A thousand thoughts went through my head, of being paraded in front of Rick Spratlin and his work crew, of cumming, of being fucked every which way...

“Please,” I whimpered. “I don’t want to do this,” I panted, gripping the armrest, my hips burning and thrusting, totally out of my control.

Kari shrugged. “Sorry kitten. You the only choice you have is if you’re going in there with just the TENS Unit crisping your cute little pussy and nips, or whether I turn on the vibroballs too.”

I half twisted in my seat and grabbed her arm. “Kari!” I hissed. “First impressions are very important! What is Rick going to think?” I demanded, even as a wave of pressurized need blasted up through my pussy. My bottom clenched tight around the Thrusting Anal Vibe and my entire body shook with barely contained energy.

Kari smiled. “He will think that you’re a slut. That’s what you’re dressed as, isn’t it?”

I moaned, the pinching sending waves of sweet bliss through me. Up from the tips of my breasts and through my clit. Shard after exquisite shard. I shook my head, my thoughts already swimming, unable to delineate pleasure and pain. “You dressed me like this! I was wearing blue jeans!” I gasped

Kari looked at me. “Breanne Erickson,” she said in a stern voice. “What are you?”

I bit my lip. I hate the mantra. It pounded through me like a foot long dildo mounted to a jackhammer.

“I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut,” I whined.

“And what is your purpose?” She asked acidically.

My pussy quivered, trembling around the vibroballs, fluttering madly. “To satisfy other's sexual needs by letting them use and abuse me.”

“What do you like to be done to you?”

I whimpered and wrapped my arms around myself. My tits seemed to burn. “Hurt me.”

“And?” Kari asked again.

“Humiliate me,” I begged her, thrusting my hips forward, my bare and exposed pussy wild and wet.

And?” she pushed.

My vision went dark as the wave rose up and took me, overwhelming me as I cried out. The orgasm shook me like a rag doll and then tossed me to the side so that I lay there, panting and broken. Slowly I turned my head to look at Kari, who was staring down at me. I couldn’t tell if she was pissed or amused. “Use me?” I asked, then began giggling madly.

Kari let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Get out of the fucking car.”

Slowly I climbed out of the convertible and stood up in the heat. My black strap fuck me shoes went well with the micro-skirt, which I suppose I should have tugged down below my hips to covering my stuffed, dripping, and clit clamped pussy. I could still feel the hard pinching sensation stemming from the electrical charge flowing through the wires and I bit my lip, trying to ignore the urge to groan and cry out, or maybe even thrust my hips back and forth eagerly. Behind me the Thrusting Anal Vibe continued to extend and retract, literally fucking my ass even as it added its own unholy buzz to the collection of pulses emanating from the TENS Unit. I reached into the bag hanging from my shoulder and a moment later the vibroballs came to life. I set them to the lowest setting, almost swooning as another wave of pure bliss cascaded over me. Oh my God did it feel good. I gave Kari a huge smile, drunk and stoned as any addict would be after a fix.
 
“The next orgasm you have I’m turning the vibroballs and TAV to medium, and the TENS Unit goes up to level five,” Kari said darkly. “And you’re still spending a week in denial.”

My pussy pulsed around the vibroballs, mixing with the shocks and I let out a loud, low groan. “So much for first impressions,” I muttered.

Kari patted my rump once and then turned to face the gate. “You’ll be a hit. Trust me.” Then she took my hand and pulled me into my next fuckfest.



Is there more cumming? Of course. Until then, do yourself a favor and go buy all of Breanne's books. Every single one of them. You won't spend all that much and you'll be able to tide yourself over until Part Two of "Responsible" comes out. Trust me - the books are worth it!

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Tested - Part Six



Well, you made it. You got to the end. No more after this. Unless you skipped parts. That's not a good thing. You'll be lost. Bewildered. Befuddled. Wondering "what the hell?" So if that's the case you should probably read Parts One, Two, Three, Four, and Five first. Don't you think? - Bre

I was sitting on the sofa, naked, eating yogurt. The television was on but I wasn’t really paying attention. Instead I was watching something a lot more interesting; Julie had been tied down to the ottoman, on her back, with her legs spread open, while Mike the Hardware Guy ran the motorized toothbrush through her foaming pussy, right up to her clit. The smidgen of peppermint paste he’d applied to her clit had created the bubbles quickly and Julie was clearly in desperate straits, pleading and begging him to let her cum. What she had failed to notice was that every time she begged, Mike glanced over at me, and with a little shake of my head, kept my wicked Mistress from exploding.

To be honest, I was impressed. I didn’t know Julie well enough, at least from a dominant perspective, to have kept her from cumming. But clearly Mike did and he played her like she’d played me. Even an hour later my clit was still swollen, bright red, and felt like I’d laid it on a piece of sandstone and let time and the seasons weather it until it was sensitive to the touch. The ten minutes that Julie had just endured was nothing compared to what she’d done to me.

“PLEASE! FUCK! FUCK DAMN IT! LET ME CUM!” She wheezed again between gasps. Mike looked up at me and I slowly put another spoonful of yogurt in my mouth. Then I shook my head. Mike grinned and pushed the head of the toothbrush up against her ass. Julie gasped.

“Not there! Not there!” But Mike ignored her words as I smiled and ate another spoonful of yogurt.

It was sort of cathartic.

I let Julie stew for another five minutes or so and then slid off the couch, my cup of yogurt almost finished, with just another spoonful waiting. Kneeling, I waddled over to her and put the yogurt down on the floor. I grabbed the washcloth Mike had brought over and pushed him back away from her, dabbing at her pussy. Julie let out a choked sob. It took me a minute but eventually I cleaned her dripping slit of the foam, the scent of peppermint lingering over her loins. Then, much to Julie’s shock, I slipped between her legs, pushing Mike out of the way, and suckled her clitoris into my mouth.

“Ohhh, Ohhhh! Ohhhh!” She panted.

I came back up, letting her go, but grabbing my cup of yogurt. I pulled the spoon out and held it above her clit. The strawberry yogurt took forever to fall, but it landed with a cold, wet splat right on her clitty, making her cry out and jerk.

“Shit!” She cursed, her back arching. “FUCK THAT’S COLD!”
And then I warmed her up. I put my mouth back down on her cunt, sucking and licking and eating the yogurt right off her cute little clit, doing some things to her that brought her dangerously close to the edge.

“Bre, she’s about to cum,” Mike warned me.

I kept licking.

“Bre! She’s going to cum!” Mike repeated, his eyes locked on the thrashing form of Julie’s boney body.

I sucked on her clit as hard as I could, listening to her squeal, her body going rigid beneath me.

“BRE! She’s cumming!” Mike practically yelled.

A spurt of warm wetness exploded in my mouth as Julie spasmed against me. I drank down as much as I could, loving the taste of her, the softness of her, the very texture a perfect mix. Julie toes curled and her feet kicked and she pulled hard on the cords holding her down. I watched as her tiny tits rose and fell, the nipples hard and puckered. Her tiny hips jerked up and down and I felt the pressure of her grinding against my mouth as my tongue continued to swirl. Then I bit down on her clit gently and that was it. Julie screamed in absolute pleasure and release, arched her back, and then collapsed, panting with a groan of satisfaction that sounded so satisfying that I felt a surge of jealousy.

I pulled my mouth away, licking the taste of her from my lips. Mike glared at me.

“I didn’t want her cumming yet,” he said darkly, his arms crossed over his chest. I gave him a little smile and leaned back, picking up my yogurt cup. I put the spoon in my mouth and again tasted the mix of Julie and strawberry. Yum. I turned away and headed for the kitchen, my bare rump swinging from left to right. Did Mike have the right to tell me not to let her cum? Wasn’t I her submissive? What did it mean if my mistress was submitting to him? Did this make me his? If Julie was incapacitated, tied down and gagged, did I have a responsibility to obey him? And underlying all this was Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule #2, the one that stated that I had to willingly follow any order that didn’t directly cross one of my limits.

I tossed the empty cup of yogurt in the trash and put the dirty spoon in the dishwasher. When I turned around Mike was there, his eyes still dark.

“I told you that I wanted her to suffer for what she did to you,” he said to me. Again. I sighed and leaned backward against the counter. I crossed my arms too, just under my breasts so that my nipples pointed right up at him.

“I’m not a switch,” I said. “I don’t do sadism.”

Mike’s stare didn’t change a whit. “I gave you a direct order.”

I shrugged. “So punish me,” I replied saucily.

Mike actually growled. “I should,” he replied. “You deserve it. But your clit looks like raw meat and I can’t imagine it feeling any better.”

I bit my lip. He wasn’t technically wrong. My clit felt like it had been put through the wringer. Puffy, red, raw, and tender were all good adjectives I could use to describe how that particular part of my anatomy felt. Even naked, the last thing I wanted was it touched.

I grinned. “You know, there are other parts of me,” I said with a mischievous smirk. I twisted my hip and flashed a good deal of my ass at him.

Mike started to say something, but then Julie slid into the room. She wormed her way under Mike’s arm and gave me a wicked little smile.

“But that wouldn’t be punishment would it?” She asked.

I eyed her speculatively. “I let you cum,” I protested. She nodded. “Yes. And while I’m personally grateful for that, you knew that Mike wanted to punish me.” She shook her head. “So what do you deserve?”

I bit my lip again. “A spanking?” I guessed.

Julie gave me a disappointed look.

I sighed. I knew the answer. I really did. I just didn’t want to think about it. Slowly I let my shoulders sag and Mike glanced between the two of us, totally confused.

“What?” He asked me. I didn’t reply and he looked at Julie. “What? What’s her punishment?”

Julie didn’t answer either and I shuffled out of the kitchen. Julie broke free of Mike’s embrace and followed me as I walked through the dining room and back into the dungeon. The dim lights did nothing to hamper me as I went straight to the coffee table, the scarred and stained wood dull. The cloth slings were still there, hanging from the ceiling and I sat down on the table and then laid back, slipping my feet into the slings. As I did Julie, and then Mike entered the room.

“What the hell is going on?” He demanded.

Julie went right over to me and helped get my legs situated appropriately.

“Wait a moment,” Mike protested. “Julie. No. She can’t!”

Julie turned and gave him a hard look. “Michael. I am her mistress. I know damned well what Breanne Erickson can take.”

She didn’t bother securing my hands, but instead went to the bathroom. I heard her rummaging around in the closet and a moment later emerged holding a white box about the size and shape of a television remote. I closed my eyes.

“Julie, you can’t be serious,” Mike protested. I sensed movement between my legs, little puffs of air against my spread open thighs. I hoped Julie wasn’t going to use clamps. I wasn’t sure I could handle clamps.

“I know what I’m doing,” Julie said. She pressed something against the side of my pussy, then did it again on the opposite side. “Get the vibroballs for me, sweetie.”

Mike shook his head and moved around the table. A moment later he handed the balls to her over my leg.

“Tie her back down,” Julie told him.

“Body straps too?” Mike asked.

Julie’s head popped up so I could see it. “Do you need body straps, Bre?” She asked with a grin.

I blinked. “Well gosh, Julie. I don’t know. Do I?”

She laughed. “I certainly hope so.” Then I felt her push the first of the vibroballs back into me. I gasped as the golf-ball sized sphere settled in deep.

“Yeah. I know you like that!” Julie said, getting the second one and rubbing it across my petals. Mike rolled his eyes as she pushed the second ball into my dripping slit. A moment later my wrists had been once again bound even with my ears, tied to edges of the coffee table and I was stuffed. Then Mike put the Velcro straps back in place. Julie seemed finished and stood up, holding the TENS Unit. She looked down at me with a silly grin.

“Are you ready for your punishment Breanne?” She asked me.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Just do it,” I said with clenched teeth.

Julie grinned and I felt the tiniest tingle between my legs. I blinked. The electricity flowed through my clit, from one electro stim tab to the other, but she’d left it low. Then she grabbed the vibroballs remote and I felt the two bullets inside me roar to life. I gasped as they went from the lowest setting, scrolled through what I’d call medium, and then settled in at high. I groaned, my hips already pumping as my clit tingled with electrical pulses. It didn’t hurt. It felt like someone was grasping my clit and giving it a gentle squeeze, but with a pair of vibrator pincers. It was very confusing. I was already trembling when she stepped over to my outstretched leg and put her hand on my bare foot, her nails curling lightly into the arch. It tickled and I squealed, kicking lightly. Julie seemed to be expecting it and just held on until I settled down once more.

“That’s it?” Mike asked. “Just a tingle? You call that punishment?” He asked.

Julie snorted. “You’re the one who wanted me to go light on her. What’s the problem?”

Mike came around, his cock still pressing against the cotton of his boxers. “It’s just…. Just…” he gestured at my pussy. My sweet, wet, tingling pussy. Oh God yes… this was perfect. I moaned. Loudly.

“How long are you going to leave her like that?” Mike asked, gesturing down at my spasming cunt, the petals open and trembling, wet and gaping.

Julie considered it for just a moment. “Well, the closer she gets to orgasm the higher I’m going to turn it up. I don’t want her cumming until that thing is frying her clit.”

I whimpered and pumped my hips. She laughed and adjusted something on the mobile TENS Unit. The electricity seemed to surge between my legs, twice as strong.

“Level 2!” Julie crowed. “Won’t be long now.”

Mike shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve gotten her to accept this.” He sighed. “And what if she cums?”

Julie gave me a look and I saw the madness in her eyes. “What if she cums?” She asked in a sing song voice. “After I sap her little pussy, we’ll do it all over again…”

Then, a moment later, as my hips thrust up, Julie Uterro picked up the leather sap, playing with it as my hips pumped. Her fingers twirled the dial on the mobile TENS Unit, the electricity surging through my clit. Through the thundering beat of my heart I heard her whisper. “Level four! She’s almost there...”

And then...

Then I was.
Dear Julie,

As you know, Breanne is near and dear to her fans in a variety of ways. We know that she’s a bit fucked up mentally, but one of the things we find totally endearing about her is the fact that she’s always wet, always ready, and that she can tolerate sexual stimulation far longer than most of her peers. And I’m curious. Just how much can Breanne’s clit actually handle?

If possible, I ask that you spend an entire day stimulating Bre’s clit. Licking, sapping, hot wax, icing, massage, vibration, stroking… anything you want, through however many orgasms until she finally begs for a medical out because her clit hurts. I want to know just how much she can take. Maybe different types of stimulation should be inflicted upon her every twenty or thirty minutes?

I’d really appreciate it. I love the idea of her legs being tied open with you inflicting maximum damage, ever so slowly, to her gentle bits until she’s screaming at the touch. It sends shivers through me, wondering if I could endure that much too. Thanks!

Jessica

Breanne Erickson's "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" are the definitive series in the self-exploration of a girl who just can't get enough. Funny, emotional, dark, and sexy, "Tales" takes other erotica novels out to the woodshed and rips their spines out! If you enjoyed "Tested" check out Breanne's other novels, her short stories, and even some of the "skeletons" in her closet! Support her writing and tell others about her!