Saturday, November 19, 2016


I woke up sore, so sore that when I pulled the Core Driller out of my pussy and tossed it aside, the very thought of trying to masturbate with the thing made me wince. And let me tell you - that’s pretty damn unusual for me. I let my panties snap back into place and even that didn’t feel good. For a moment, I thought about rolling over and going back to sleep. Maybe a sick day was in order. God knew that after all the torments I’d been through the night before, even the multiple orgasms and wild, manic fucking, it would be a good idea to give my poor pussy a break.

But I’m a glutton for punishment. I knew that Kari, my boss, best friend, and sadistic sex mistress, had plans for the day and there was no way she was going to be able to do without me. So after I got my daughter dressed, fed, and sent off to school, I stood in front of the open closet and considered my options.

First, the very thought of sticking anything back into my sex was just too much to handle. My petals were bruised and swollen from the cropping Tamara had given me and my clit still looked large and misshapen thanks to the clamp that had hung from it while I’d been tied down. The insides of my sex weren’t any better. A variety of implements had been repeatedly pushed into me, with odd shapes and textures and while I hadn’t come out of it torn or mangled, I’d been thoroughly scoured. Normally, dildoes I use are at least cock shaped. Last night? Not even close.

I thrust that thought aside. There are consequences for breaking NHPS Rules and Rule #1 is the most important. It states that girls like me are to keep something inside them at all times: either an actual cock or sex toy or something… in order to stay wet and ready for sex. That’s the whole point. Of course, in reality it just drives me absolutely nuts. It’s constant sexual torture. Nothing more. And when you’re pussy is sore from an evening of callous and rough fucking, the idea of sticking something else in there isn’t always appealing.

Since it was Friday, my clothing options were limited to what I had clean. So I decided on a black leather skirt that barely covered my ass. This I pared with a pair of knee high black leather boots with four inch heels and a black blouse that was meant to be worn with an undershirt. Except I went without. The result was that tantalizing glimpses of my breasts and belly peeked out repeatedly, flashing an unexpected amount of skin. Kari has a habit of rewarding daring outfits so I figured I might just get clemency.

God, I’m an idiot.

Kari walked through the front door of the office precisely at nine. She’s something of a perfectionist and believes that people should be right on time. I once told her that punctuality is for people with nothing better to do and her eyes narrowed, right before ordering me to strip and go to the punishment closet for a whipping. Now… now I don’t mind her coming in exactly on time.

She was wearing blue jeans which surprised me, since she’s usually more elegant than that unless we are doing a demolition. Her blouse had the shoulders cut and her bare skin seemed to glow from beneath the material. Her dainty feet were in a pair of cork wedges that looked expensive, but simple all at the same time. She stopped after coming in and her warm smile seemed to melt my heart. She looked at my outfit and grinned.

“You know you’re padlock is showing?” She asked me, a wicked gleam in her eye. I could tell I was already turning her on.

I glanced down, suddenly blushing and sure enough, my entire right nipple was sticking out through one of the slits in the shirt. The gold of the padlock actually looked pretty against the black material I quickly brought my hand up and tucked myself back in. I mean… I could hardly sit at the desk with a glass wall in front of me with my tit hanging out. Right?

“How does the Double Dildo feel?” She suddenly asked me. I couldn’t help feeling that it was a loaded question. She’d been the one to send me to Tamara and Oscar, even if it had been my other mistress - Julie - who’d ordered it be a review of my carnal capacities. I looked up at her with a hopeful expression and saw her smile melt away. If I hadn’t been red before, I turned that way at that moment. The toy I’d been instructed to wear that day was my double dildo, a thick rubber monstrosity that had not one, but two phallic probes, one which was to fill my pussy, while the other was destined to go up my ass. I’d left it at home.

“Uh… actually… that’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” I stammered. Kari’s eyebrow went up. “You see, Oscar and Tamara…”

She waved a hand. “Yes, yes. Your pussy review. I’m guessing that Tamara and Oscar gave you a thorough fucking?”

A “thorough fucking?” Is that what she wanted to call what that couple did to me? That’s sort of like falling off a forty foot cliff and someone saying you took a little tumble. I stopped and stared at her. “Multiple times, actually.” I gave her a slightly colder stare. “Along with shoving every uncomfortable goddamned thing in the house into me.”

She smiled. “Excellent. So what does this have to do with your double dildo?”

I bit my lip, already regretting my morning’s decision. I toned down my voice into something pleading. “Um… well… you see… I was… a bit… actually more than a bit… uncomfortable this morning.”

“Uncomfortable,” she repeated. I could already tell she was unimpressed.

I nodded eagerly. “Yes. Uncomfortable. So I thought that… well… maybe… we… I mean I… could go… you know… without… and…”

“You’re breaking Rule #1, right now?” Kari asked, her tone frosty.

I nodded, knowing I was doomed. She took a step closer.

“You do not have the right to decide when or if you are to follow the NHPS Rules. Did you bring it with you?”

I shook my head, my bottom lip caught between my teeth. “No, Kari.”

She cocked her head to the side for a moment. “Then you will spend the next ten minutes finding something appropriate here in the office to shove up your pussy. It must completely fill you, so don’t select a marker.” Her tone was almost frightening. “You will then come to me, with the item inside you, and beg for my approval. If either you take more time than allowed, or select an inappropriate item, I will take you to the punishment closet, fuck you with something that I deem appropriate as a punishment, and then whip you repeatedly between the legs and across the breasts.”

My mouth fell open and I gaped at her.

“Furthermore, you are not allowed to use any item whose primary purpose is sexual gratification. So don’t think you can grab one of your anal plugs or that collection of dildoes in your bottom drawer and use one of them.” Then she turned and walked down the hall leaving me sitting there in shock.

“Time’s a wasting, Bre!” She called out.

I jumped up. The first thing I did was yank open the top drawer of my desk, but I realized that was stupid the moment my eyes slid across the assortment of pens, markers, and other assorted bric-a-brac in there. None of it fit Kari’s definition of “suitably sized” For a moment I hesitated over the scissors. Not that I dream about pushing sharp items up inside myself, but if the blades are closed…

I moved on before I tried running with scissors too.

My top side drawer yielded a better selection of items, but nothing particularly acceptable. The only thing in the drawer that was even close to the right shape and width was a stapler, and while I’ve had those sorts of things inside me before, the hard, angular edges made for unpleasant memories. I pushed aside a lint roller, correction tape, pens, staples, and rubber bands. Next drawer. A 200 count box of Tic Tacs? A bottle of Tylenol? A bottle of dry erase board cleaner?

The bottom drawer on the left was pointless. It had files in it. The bottom drawer on the right had a box full of anal plugs and a number of unremarkable dildoes and vibrators in it. Except… I wasn’t allowed to choose any of those items. I heard a little knock and glanced up. Jose, our day porter, was once again washing the windows. I looked down at my chest. Yep. The tips of both breasts were hanging out again. Fuck!

I straightened up and ran a hand down my front as Jose grinned and waved. I gave him a little wave back, but then turned tail and ran. I’d already wasted two minutes searching my desk. Dumb, Bre. Very Dumb. Kari was in her office on the phone and I was tempted to disturb her, but I realized that her art room was a better choice anyway, or the kitchenette. Either or. I turned right first, not wanting to disturb Kari’s stuff. I rounded the small table and went right for the drawers, yanking them outward. I almost pulled one right out of the cabinet!

Mostly plastic serving spoons. Nope. Not good enough. A whisk? Maybe. But this one is small. Why do we even have a small whisk? Why not a big one? Salt grinder. No. It’s open. Same thing with the pepper. Garlic? Cabinet up at the top. Nope. It’s a square, and the size of a roll of duct tape. Well that won’t work! Well… fuck!

I opened the refrigerator, getting slightly more panicked. Salad dressing packets, but no bottles. Cans and cans and cans of Diet Coke and Black Cherry Fresca. Leftovers from Hungry’s lunch last week. Eewwww. I took that out and threw it away. Why the hell don’t we have zuchinnis? I've fucked zucchinis before.

I closed the refrigerator and glanced around the kitchen. No help for it. I had to go to Kari’s art room. I crossed the hall and went into her little bit of organized chaos. The center of her art room is dominated by a tilted desk with a default piece of white paper hanging from the clips. To the left are two bookcases filled with brushes, colored pencils, paint, even Crayons. But nothing thick and long and cock like. For a moment my hand hovered over a glue stick, but it was technically too short.

Behind her chair were more shelves, each one filled with binders of material samples, rug samples, paint cards… colors and shapes and textures. My eyes glazed over it all and I wheeled to the last wall. There was a stool there, sort of like a director’s chair actually, with a stained canvas seat, a rung to step up on, and a soft back. This was next to another bookcase which had the more esoteric items Kari used in her art work. On the top shelf was a box of modeling clay. Useless. There was a small rack that held six inch tall spools of colored twine. I pulled one out, wondering what it would feel like going into my pussy. But then I realized that Kari would blow a gasket if I jammed some of her art stuff into my sex, so I put it back and hurried down the hall, back toward her office.

She glanced up. “A minute early. I like that,” she said with a smile, her eyes going down to my skirt. But then she caught sight of my face. “Oh dear. Really Bre?”

I looked around her office. Kari isn’t exactly a clutterbug. She’s almost spartan. I bit my lip. Her phone? Never. She’d kill me and I wasn’t sure it would fit. Arggghhh! What the hell should I choose?

Slowly Kari stood up as I shifted frantically left and right. She didn’t say anything and our eyes met. Then she put her hands on my shoulders.

“Breathe,” she said. I nodded and sucked in another breath.

“Good,” she continued. “You’ve got a minute left. Think.”

My mind raced, but all I could think of that had even been remotely acceptable had been the whisk. I nodded, turned on my heels, and went back to the kitchen. I grabbed the steel utensil, hurried back to Kari’s office, and held it up like a sword fighter giving a salute.

Kari’s eyebrow went up, but she didn’t say anything. I gave her a smile that was more smirk, then unzipped the skirt. It fell to the floor and I glanced over my shoulder and moved out of her doorway. It wouldn’t be good to have someone come in and see my bare ass. Then I spread my legs and began running the wires of the utensil through my petals.

Did it hurt? Yes. Not like straight up pain. But I was bruised and uncomfortable and the whisk didn’t feel good. Worse, I wasn’t exactly wet either. Damp? Yes. Wet? Not quite. And suddenly I realized just why Rule #1 was important. It would have been better for me to slip in the ben wa balls that morning and risk getting a punishment for switching out the toy of the day, then go without.

Kari watched as I gingerly rubbed my clit. It took almost two minutes and I had to lick my fingers to help. She said nothing as the bendy metal hoops disappeared into my pussy, my hand thrusting them deeper and deeper. Finally only the steel handle was visible and it stuck out of my sex like a thin metal penis. Inside me the whisk felt cold, uncomfortable, and not very sexy.

My mistress looked me in the eye. “A small whisk. Really. That’s what you felt was acceptable?”

I cringed.

She shook her head. “Very well. You will now go down to the end of the hall. Take off all your clothes and put on the bondage cuffs. Then hook yourself up to the punishment frame. I’ll be there in a moment.”

I swallowed. “What are you going to use on me?” I asked, though it came out as a whimper.

“Something appropriate,” she assured me.

I looked up. “They hurt me last night. Doing the review.”

Kari shrugged. “They were supposed to. You’re a nympho humiliation pain slut. Stress on the pain part.”

I bit my lip. “They cropped me. And flogged me.”

Kari didn’t say anything. Instead she reached up and her fingers tweaked my exposed nipples. I hadn’t realized that they’d once more emerged out from behind the strips of shirt I was wearing. I gasped, shuddered, and when the wetness surged between my legs I nodded. I understood. I turned away from her, pulling my nipples out from her light grasp, and headed down the hall toward the punishment closet and its frame. The steel whisk stayed put as I peeled off the shirt and tossed it aside.

I opened the very last door on the left side of the hall. Inside was a small room that had once been a supply closet, but now held a steel frame. A hook dangled from the top arm. Against the side of the wall was a rack and I grabbed the bondage cuffs and began putting them on. It felt weird to be standing there wearing nothing but a pair of knee high leather boots, with a whisk sticking out of my pussy. I finished securing my wrists, clipped them together, and then backed myself up to the punishment frame. A pair of padded steel supports jutted out and I straddled them so that they rested between my thighs. Then I lifted my hands, swung them up to the hook, latched on, and waited.

Kari came in a few moments later and she didn’t hesitate. Her foot went to the small hydraulic pedal between my feet and pushed. I felt my hands drawn up, further and further until I was on tip toe, even in the boots. Then she went to the other pedal. The two posts sticking out between my thighs? They spread, pulling my legs apart until I was forced off my feet. For a moment my weight was on my hands, but eventually I was sitting on the posts. Then even they moved out too far, almost to the inside of my knee and I was hung, legs obscenely spread, my whisk stuffed sex dripping onto the linoleum floor.

Kari grabbed hold of the whisk. “You really thought this would be acceptable?” She asked, drawing it half out of me and then pushing it back in. I gasped.

“Uh… I guess…” I whimpered.

She pulled it out all the way and tapped my clitoris with it. Lightly, thank God, but she still tapped me. “This is worthless.” She dropped it on the ground where it clattered. “For your pussy, we need something uncomfortable.” She reached for her back pocket and to my horror, brought out a full sized stapler. “Something like this,” she whispered.

“Kari…” I whined. “Please. No… not a stapler. Please?”

She stepped closer and I felt the angular end press against my petals.

“Kari?” I begged.

Her lips found mine and the pressure built between my legs, the hard, rectangular object digging in. I groaned, shaking as my bruised petals were mashed aside. Then I realized her thumb was rubbing my sore and tender clit.

“Now, I’m going to fuck you with this. And right before you cum, I’m going to take it out and whip your tits and pussy with the flogger.” She pushed another inch of stapler into me.

“Am I… am I… going… to… to… get… to… cum?” I panted.

Kari let out a laugh. “We’ll see, won’t we?” She drew half the stapler out, then slid it back in. “We’ll see!”

Saturday, October 29, 2016

And Another Please

I gasped, my body twitching as the colors swirled around me. I could feel Alissa’s tongue as it did tiny, intense circles over my clitoris and I couldn’t help myself as I thrust my hips forward, practically grinding myself on her face. Her delicate fingers slid up and down the backs of my legs, drawing strange glyphs on my skin, enticing me to higher levels of pleasure. My spine tingled and bent as my body trembled. My God… I was so close.
Around me a number of other women were in similar straights, though with much preferred outcomes. Mistress Isobel was reclining on a settee, her eyes closed and her mouth open while Madeline, another submissive of the Society of the Golden Rose, worked her oral magic on Isobel’s bare, shaved slit. A bit across from the sweet pair sat Mistress Savannah, a gorgeous blonde with a southern accent so thick she had to be from Georgia. Across her lap lay a cute brunette with short hair. The naked girl had perfect, cream colored skin and the sounds she was making practically put mine to shame. Savannah had a look of intense concentration on her face and was vigorously thrusting her fingers into Kylie’s slit, the wet sound of the penetration loud and clear over the moans.
On a pillowed mattress off to the left, the Society’s newest mistress; Amanda, lay buck naked with her submissive Gwenie atop her, the two of them entangled in a wet, sixty-nine position, pink tongues extended. Gwen was a tiny woman, just a little older than me, and very feisty. I liked her. I hadn’t had much involvement with Mistress Amanda, other than the usual sharing that takes place during Society meetings. Both of them looked like they were having a great time and sight of them entwined like that was certainly alluring.
Mistress Sara, a mature and exquisitely dressed redhead, sat talking with Julie, their voices low and eager. Both of them kept glancing over at me, their eyes both hungry and delighted. I could feel their eyes almost as much as Alissa’s tongue and the shiver that made my flesh crawl wasn’t one of revulsion, but of desire.
Right. Desire. Orgasm. Oh crap. Alissa…
“Stop!” I suddenly blurted. “Alissa! Stop! Oh God! Stop! Please!” I cried out, letting go of the wooden frame behind me.
Alissa pulled her face away from my slit and she was covered in juice. She looked disappointed, as if I’d just taken her candy away, but she sighed and leaned to the side as I quickly stumbled forward. Julie sprang up from her chair and managed to the get to the folding table just a second before me. I grabbed the cup. The first time I’d shaken it like a gambler at a craps table, hoping for perfect sevens. This time I just upended the thing and four die tumbled out, bouncing across the table. I didn’t wait to see what numbers I’d rolled. Julie had made it clear that she took great pleasure in telling me the bad news. Instead I turned and marched a few more steps forward as everyone, even Amanda and Gwen, paused to watch me mount the wooden pony.
Yes. I said “wooden pony.” If you are unfamiliar with the term I don’t want you thinking that I was getting on some sort of child’s rocking horse. The wooden pony is a torture device going back hundreds of years. Made from a piece of solid wood, it is essentially a board with a sharp edge pointed up, raised on legs, over which a girl, such as me, is forced to stand. The height of the edged wood is three or four inches taller than her inseam, which requires her to stand on tiptoe in order to keep the spine of the pony from biting into her sex.
Julie came up as I felt the now very familiar burn in my calves. She grabbed my wrists and hauled them behind my back, using one of the clips on the black, leather bondage cuffs to secure my hands together. Thus immobilized I struggled with my still aroused state, trying to decide what to do. Julie’s face came around to my front and she looked at me with intensity.
“Seventeen minutes,” she said, grinning. “You sure know how to roll them!” She announced so that everyone could hear. I grimaced. Seventeen minutes on the pony would be agonizing, especially since this was my fifth ride already. For a vague second I wondered what numbers had actually come up. I’d been lucky three times, with the first, third, and fourth rides all being under twelve minutes. The second ride had been nineteen. It would have been excruciating, except I came after about eight minutes on the pony.
But seventeen? That meant I needed to try to get off quicker. In every sense of that statement.
I clenched my teeth and with deliberate movement, lowered myself down. The wood between my legs was made of maple and the stains in the very center, darkening it almost to a syrupy brown were telling. This horse had seen a lot of pussy. It had been oiled before my first ride that day, but the repeated grinding of my pussy on the edge had stripped much of it, replacing the slick syrupy goodness with an entirely different sort of lubrication. I could feel the wood slipping through my petals, and as the strain on my calves lessened, the pressure on my pussy increased until it actually began to hurt.
“Oh… you sweet, poor baby. Do you need to grind your clit to cum?” Julie asked, her voice dripping with sweet sarcasm, her fingers slipping along my flank. She put her hands on my hips and gave me a little push. “Hope it hurts, princess.”
I thrust my hips forward, which was pretty much the only thing I could do. My petals caught and then for just a second my clit was pressed between my mons and the horse. For just a moment. A surge of sensation blasted through me. Much of it was incitement, kindling of a sexual nature. I’d just spent almost thirty minutes dancing to the beat of Alissa’s tongue. I was horny as hell. But there was something else there, something I’d come to both accept and crave.
Yes, having that sharp edge dig into my pussy hurt. And it hurt even more when I’d crushed my clit against it, rocking back and forth. But that pain was sexualized, intense, powerful and changing. It shot up my spine along with the residual pleasure and somewhere, probably in my messed up brain, it combined with my self-indulgent titillation and enhanced both. It hurt more and felt amazing. Tiny explosions of electrical energy fired through my brain and as I rocked back something urged me to rock forward again. I rolled myself along the wooden spine, thrusting, fucking the wooden pony, my body undulating almost violently. And clearly I wasn’t the only one enjoying myself.
“That is terribly sweet,” Sara observed from her seat. Alissa had crawled back over to her and was lying on her back, both legs up in the air, her bare feet up around Sara’s elbows. The arch of each foot was bent, and Sara was light stroking Alissa’s sole. Sara’s other hand had fallen between Alissa’s thighs, stroking and petting the girl’s petals, fingers wet and covered in goo. Alissa looked like she was hyper aroused. Her eyes were closed and she was twitching. Julie left my side and returned to her seat, nodding.
“She does appear to enjoy it. You would think after four other rides she’d be getting sore.”
Sara laughed. “Oh, she’s sore. Look at her feet. She’s still holding herself up. At least a little.”
I blinked, realizing that Mistress Sara was right. I was still up. That was why my legs were aching so badly.
“Do you think she’ll manage to cum? Or will she have to ride the full seventeen minutes?” Julie asked.
Sara laughed. “She’ll ride it,” she declared. “With each orgasm it becomes harder to have the next, and she’s had four now?” Sara flicked her finger at Alissa’s clit, eliciting a sudden gasp from the long haired brunette.
Julie nodded and glanced down at her watch. “Three minutes, princess. Just fourteen more!” She sang out to me. I bit my lip, letting a soft groan escape my lips. Fourteen minutes was a lifetime. The pain between my legs suddenly became more than I could handle and I lifted up, back up on my tip toes. My entire lower half jerked as my pussy demanded more rubbing but there was nothing I could do, short of trying to pulverize my pussy on the wooden pony.
Sara looked over at Julie even as she slid two fingers into Alissa’s slit. “You never told me what would happen if she came during the arousal period.”
Julie laughed. “Well, I made it very clear she wasn’t to cum while we were teasing her.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “This is Breanne we’re talking about. Of all the Society’s submissives she is both the most intense and the most disobedient. She gets off on taunting authority.” My mistress smiled. Me? My legs gave out and I dropped down almost flat footed. The wooden edge jammed up into my pussy and I whimpered loudly. Both of them ignored it as my hips began thrusting back and forth.
“It’s because she is the neediest,” Julie replied. “Besides, I know you’ve never minded taking a cane to her breasts.” She glanced over to where Alissa was panting, Sara’s fingers teasing her clit mercilessly.
Sara actually had the decency to blush. “Well, Breanne’s breasts are perfect for that.” She pushed her thumb back into Alissa’s pussy and leaned forward. “Now that would be a decent punishment, Julie. Let me get one of the canes and leave a dozen red stripes across Breanne’s tits. I’d make her nipples swell.”
Julie sighed and looked back at me, studying my body as I jerked back and forth on the pony, my pussy burning as bad as my calves. “Breanne is perfect for just about every torment,” she said lovingly. I could see it in her eyes, though I’m not sure if she was loving me directly, or loving me because she loved hurting me. Using me. The wooden spine dug into my softness.
Then Julie blinked and shook her head. “But that’s not the punishment for today. If she cums while we are in the arousal stage then she receives twenty strokes of a sap to her clit...” she began.
Sara snorted, interrupting my mistress. “Brilliant. Everyone knows that she loves that. It turns her on even more. She’ll have another unauthorized orgasm!” I personally couldn’t disagree with that. But Sara was simplifying it. What I really loved was having my legs pulled apart so wide that my thighs ached. And only then was it about the hard impact of the sap against my clit and petals.
Julie continued calmly. “Followed by the required ride. And she rolls with five dice instead of four.”
Sara paused, considering it, though her fingers still seemed to move in and out of Alissa’s pussy with premeditation. There was a distinctive and enticing squelching noise, as if someone was walking through wet mud. Of course Alissa was whimpering as well, clearly close to cumming. Mistress Sara seemed to be ignoring her submissive’s sexual distress. “So, no chance of getting off via orgasm, and she gets extra minutes.” Sara shrugged. “That does seem to be sufficient motivation to comply with the edging.”
Julie laughed. “It’s diabolical.  But I know her. If she cums during arousal, it will truly be an accident.”
“Will she still pay the price?” Sara asked, her eyes going from Alissa’s writhing body below her to my gyrating form on the pony. Her eyes glittered, no doubt loving every forward movement where my clit got pinched between the weight of my body and the sharpened edge of the pony’s spine.
Julie looked directly at me and our eyes met. “Of course she’ll take the full punishment,” she said. She glanced back down at her watch. “Twelve more minutes, princess.”
My legs trembled from the strain but I lifted myself up, the pain fading from my pussy, but emerging in my calves once more. I tried to position myself barely a millimeter above the ridge and bent forward, dragging my pussy along the wood. The slick hardness caressed my clit and I lifted all the way up as I moved backward. Then came another quarter squat, not enough to really help relieve my aching muscles, but enough to give me strength for another drag of my abused, bruised, and sensitive snatch along the edge of the wooden pony.
Another vocal groan distracted me for a moment and I turned my head to see Madeline kneeling between Isobel’s legs. Madeline had found a vibrator somewhere and was in the process of rubbing the rumbling tip across Mistress Isobel’s clit, then sliding it down through her petals, only to push it deep into Isobel’s dark pink depths. I had a fascinating view and I wondered momentarily if it was deliberate, a tacit opportunity to provide visual stimulation to me so that I’d be more likely to cum. Isobel’s legs were wide apart, her black leather skirt unzipped and open, and she had pushed one hand down into the white silk blouse she customarily wore, clearly teasing a nipple. Madeline, still kneeling, had one hand between her legs and I could see her plunging her own fingers into her sodden swamp. I decided it was an accident, and that they didn’t pose for me. Mostly because I knew that Isobel would never make things easy on a submissive. Especially me.
I looked away and decided that I was going to try for the pony induced orgasm until I hit the six minute mark. At that point it made more sense to try to just get through it and save my arousal for the next ride. I had no idea who would volunteer next to torment me, though I still had the control. All I had to do was say stop and then I’d be allowed to remount the wooden pony. The number in my head made me feel psychologically better, but as my calves grew tired from my movements, I was forced once more to drop down, this time putting all my weight on the sharp edge digging up between my legs.
Wooden ponies tend to have acute edges, much more honed than wooden horses. This is because the rider has the ability to lift herself off and the goal of the torment is to watch her “ride” the pony. After a certain amount of time you find yourself unable to hold yourself off the edge, but you also can’t tolerate the agony of it. So you bounce. Hard. Up and down. And if you’re sexually stimulated too, then it becomes a rolling gait; up and down, back and forth, your clit constantly being pinched even as your petals get bruised, your perineum pummeled, and your ass ground down.
By the time Julie told me I’d managed to burn through another four minutes I was doing all those things, fulfilling my role as the perfect pony girl. Pain raced through me just as much as the pleasure did and my entire body shook and trembled, strained to the breaking point. Perspiration beaded on my forehead as I tried desperately to cum. It was all about energy. Did I have enough to keep myself up from the edge? Did I have enough to work myself into a froth? Try pressing something sharp up between your legs!
“Six minutes, princess!” Called out Julie. “Keep it up!” Then she paused, studying my trembling body. “Or down. I like the idea of that sweet pussy of yours on that cutting edge.”
I bit my lip, trying to focus on the important things; like breathing. Like trying hard not to pump my hips, thrusting forward. I wasn’t worried about splinters. I was worried about cumming now. I’d survived eleven minutes sitting on the pony and I wanted to hold that arousal as insurance against the next ride. And to be honest, the one after that. And the one after that. Julie had made it clear that there would be a minimum of ten rides, and that if I were capable of standing after the tenth, she’d make me keep going until I couldn’t.
A sharp crack drew my attention and I saw that Savannah had swatted Kylie hard across the rump. The cute little brunette cried out and jerked a bit, still drawn across her mistress’ lap.
I bit my lip, watching as Savannah left a flurry of spanks on Kylie, only to push her off into a heap on the floor. Mistress Savannah spread her legs and she lifted the hem of the ivory and pink dress she was wearing. There weren’t any panties beneath and then Kylie was on her knees, her face buried between Savannah’s thighs. From the look on the southern belle’s face, I knew exactly what Kylie was doing.
I couldn’t help myself. My hips thrust violently back and forth and I felt the pressure, the heat of it, surge inside me. Even before I realized what was going on I cried out, throwing my head back, the overwhelming incitement of orgasm blasting through me. Fluids spurted out from around the sharp edge of the horse, seeping down the wooden sides, adding one more stain to the saddle. Then Julie was there beside me, freeing my hands and helping me off.
I collapsed into her arms, my crotch throbbing with pain, but all blissfully dulled from the chemicals dumped into my bloodstream. Adrenaline, dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins surged through my veins and my one addiction - that of mind-blowing, enraptured orgasm, satisfied its most hungry junkie. I loved every fucking second of it.
Julie pulled me over to one of the couches arranged around our little tableau and laid me down. I groaned and sank into the soft cushions as she ran her hands over my hair and back. I rolled onto my tummy and she massaged me, fingers light on my back, my bottom, then down my aching legs to my feet. She drew her fingertips lightly across the soles and I groaned in pure ecstasy. I love that. It was like being tickled, almost. My entire body shivered. For a long moment I just lay there, enjoying her caress, and she knelt between my legs. I felt her hands on my rump and then to my shock, she put her face right between my buttocks. I gasped and her nose pressed against me. I felt something wet and moving, right over the tiny brown button of my ass.
I’m not some nube who has never heard of a rimjob. Nor am I innocent. I’ve both given them and gotten them before. But never from Julie. This was a very, very strange experience for me. But I must admit… it was incredible. She was gentle, soft, and even as her fingers kneaded my ass, I squirmed and sighed.
For a full five minutes Julie pleasured me. Most of it was non-sexual. She rubbed my calves. She traced circles over my back and bottom. She licked me, ever so softly. Eventually I relaxed muscles I didn’t know were tense. And when she’d stuck her nose back in my ass and licked me the last time, she’d moved low enough to taste my sex. I realized that I’d lifted my ass, moaning as she fucked me with her tongue. My God… I was… I was… aroused. Again.
“It’s time, Julie.” Sara smiled at me and my chocolate haired mistress came up out of my bottom with a silly grin on her face and streaks of wetness on her chin. She wiped her face with the back of her wrist and nodded.
“Alright, Bre. Back to the torment frame.”
I let out a long breath. Slowly I got up from the couch. I deliberately didn’t look at the wooden pony. I knew I’d be riding it again soon regardless. I went to the wooden frame instead, turning my back to it. I reached up over my head and grabbed hold of the single wooden bar that stretched between the poles and I leaned back against it, spreading my legs wide.
“Who wants the honor?” Julie asked.
“Oooh! I do!” Announced Mistress Amanda, coming up off the petite body of her submissive. Gwennie’s eyes were slightly dazed and her pussy was a bright red, as if it had been spanked a few times. I knew the girl marked up easily, but there were red blotches all over her thighs and mons, as if Amanda had been giving her hickeys. That gave me a little surge of jealousy. I liked the idea.
Julie gestured at me with a welcoming smile and then Amanda filled my vision. She was naked, which was actually rather odd for one of the mistresses of the Society, but she was undeniably beautiful. Her breasts were big and full and she had thick, full nipples that just demanded to be suckled. Her hips were wide and her legs long. There was a noticeable thigh gap between her legs and the curvature of her shaved pussy just asked to be cupped. She put her hands on my shoulders and drew them downward, caressing my breasts. I gasped as her thumbs found my nipples. I half expected her to tweak them, perhaps even pinch and twist them, but she didn’t. Instead he stroked the tips of each breast, tantalizing me with the light touch before drawing her hands further down my body.
“Am I allowed to clamp her nipples?” Amanda suddenly asked, turning to look at Julie.
I watched as my mistress frowned. “Well, they’re not supposed to hurt,” Julie said skeptically. “And nothing inside her that vibrates. She has to be able to say stop and everything stops.”
“Vibrator clamps,” Amanda replied, eyes narrowing. She crossed her arms just under her bare breasts, cushioning them.
Julie considered it. “I suppose…”
Amanda grinned. “Gwennie. Get me a set of vibrator clamps for Breanne.”
The little petite blond shot up and bounded off, her cute little rump swinging back and forth. I knew where she was going. The Society kept a cupboard filled with little toys like that. But then I got distracted as Amanda’s hand found my pussy. She pressed her nude body against mine, our breasts together as her middle finger slid into me. I gasped, my loins tightening around her as her thumb rubbed softly against my clitoris. Amanda grinned, then bent down to kiss me. Her tongue pushed into my mouth. My eyes widened. Her tongue was pierced!
Gwen returned a moment later with the pair of vibrator clamps, handing them both to Amanda as she pulled up off me. I watched, my hands still gripping the bar, as Gwen’s mistress turned on one of the small toys. I expected her to immediately hang it on my nipple, but instead she handed it to Gwen.
“Touch her everywhere,” Amanda said to Gwen, who was still standing there. “But focus on her clit.”
I looked up at Mistress Amanda even as the little vibrator Gwennie held was pressed to the top of my pussy. Then the second vibrator came on and Amanda touched my right nipple, just above the gold padlock that hung there.
“Do you like that, slut?” Amanda whispered, so softly only Gwen and I could hear. “You are, without a doubt, one of the most disobedient little sluts in the Society. And why? Because you like being punished. I know it. Gwennie tells me the submissive secrets.”
She moved the vibrator to my other nipple, wrapping her left arm around me, her hand on my ass, squeezing and knead. I groaned. “You want to cum. I know it. And even more, you want to cum here, right now, instead of on the stupid pony. You want us to spread your legs and spank that perfect little pussy of yours until you’re screaming…” She bent down and began licking my right nipple, the other shaking under the vibrator. Sweet fingers slid over and across me and both women tormented me, swirling and dipping into me before dragging wet nails up my stomach. Within five minutes I was wanting and in ten I was desperate. And when Gwen dropped to her knees and her tongue darted out at my clit I was ready. That’s when Amanda finally stopped rubbing her vibrator against my flesh, and instead clipped it to my right breast. There wasn’t any pain, just a mild discomfort, but it was enough and I grit my teeth.
“Give me the other vibrator clamp, darling.” Amanda looked down at Gwen. Gwen smiled up at me and lifted the still buzzing vibrator clamp. Even as Amanda put it on my left nipple Gwen put her mouth back down on my clit and sucked hard.
“Amanda! Please! I’m… I’m… ready!” I panted. The vibrations at my nipples suddenly seemed very, very strong. And Gwen? Gwen didn’t stop licking my clit.
Amanda pressed very close. “Use my title,” she insisted. Both arms came up and she began twisting the clamp on my right nipple. Back and forth, left and right. I cried out, my knees buckling. It was too much. Oh my God… so much…
Suddenly Julie was there, pulling Gwen away from my pussy, but it was too late. The orgasm rocked me to the core and I let go of the bar above my head and folded, dropping to my knees as I blew the proverbial gasket. Julie gave Amanda a scowling glare, but Amanda just smiled and backed away.
“That deserves a punishment I think,” she said sweetly, but the look of vicious excitement on her face was telling.
Julie wrapped an arm around me. “Bre? Bre are you okay?”
Was I okay? I let out a slightly hysterical laugh. It came out very high pitched. “Am I okay?” I giggled. Julie sighed and sat back on her heels. Then she looked up. “Sara? Help please?”
The matronly redhead immediately pushed Alissa’s legs to the side and held up her goo covered fingers. She got to me and wiped her hand across my back, then grabbed my arm. Together, Julie and Sara lifted me. My legs didn’t seem to want to work. They half dragged me over to the couch and set me down. I continued to laugh, eyes closed. I felt fingers on my ankles, soft suede, and then the tightness of the bondage cuffs. There was the slither burn sound of rope and then my legs were pulled open. Further and farther, open and wide, until my thighs ached from the strain.
“Hands above your head, princess.” I lifted my hands for Julie and she took them, quickly securing them not only to each other via the bondage cuffs on my wrists, but to the back of the couch. I couldn’t move. I sat there, my poor pussy the perfect target, and nothing I could do would stop that. The vibrator clamps continued to buzz against my chest and I felt the tingling sensation all the way down to my toes. I opened my eyes and watched as Sara fetched the leather sap from under Julie’s seat.
“I think I should be the one to paddle her,” Amanda suddenly said, coming over to the couch. “After all, she did pop while I was teasing her.”
Julie frowned. “She popped because you didn’t pull away quick enough, and let Gwen continue licking her clit.”
Amanda gave her a stern look. “If it’s my fault why punish her at all?” She demanded.
Julie sighed, but it was Isobel who answered from her settee. Madeline still had the vibrator in hand and was gently fucking Isobel with it. The stunning brunette smiled. “Because despite the cause, Breanne still came. Had she opted to end your stimulation early, so that she wasn’t actually on edge, we might have been lenient. But now…” she shook her head. “However, I do think that Julie should not be the one to sap Breanne’s pussy.” Even as Julie opened her mouth to protest Isobel pointed at Mistress Sara. “I’m sure Sara wouldn’t mind.”
Sara’s eyebrow went up and she looked at Julie. “I don’t mind Julie, but Breanne is yours. I won’t unless you grant permission.”
Julie sort of glared at Isobel, but then sighed. “Alright. Just… remember justice.” She handed the sap to Sara who took it. Sara gave Julie a soft, sad smile, then replied. “It’s not about justice Julie. It’s about a sub who broke the rules. She’s got to be punished for this. And since Breanne normally enjoys what I’m about to do to her, I’ve got to make sure it really IS a punishment.” Then Sara stepped up to the couch, raised the sap, and as I tightened up, flinching away, brought it down on my pussy.
Searing pain blasted through me and I certainly yelled as the sharp and horrible sting burned through my pussy. In seconds it morphed into a heat, but by that time Sara had struck again, leveling what felt like a few angry hornets against my clit. My entire body bucked and the only thing that kept me from closing up and protecting my tender bits was the fact that I was tied open, unable to do more than flex my knees. Sara stroked my pussy for a moment, then when it seemed like I wasn’t about to burst into tears, she struck again. I yelled.
“That’s awful hard,” Julie said, her face contorted with concern. Sara shrugged indifferently and slapped the leather down on my pussy a fourth time. Fire seemed to sear the surface of my skin and I couldn’t help jerking my hips as my body struggled to get out from under the beating. Sara only smiled, looked down at my twitching form, and smashed my pussy flat a fifth time.
“Sara!” Julie exclaimed angrily over the shrill wail that escaped through my clenched teeth. “That’s going a little far, don’t you think?”
The red-haired dominatrix glanced up at Julie. “No, actually. This is supposed to be a punishment, Julie. Not a reward. That’s half of Breanne’s problem.” She looked back at my well smacked pussy and flicked the sap at it again. It struck with a loud crack and this time I cried out, pain radiating up from my slit like shards of glass being ground against my skin.
“Punishment,” Sara continued, “is supposed to encourage the submissive to follow the rules, not break them more often in order to get more punishment.” She looked back up at Julie. “That’s called a reward.” She gestured at me. “If Breanne wants this,” she paused, bent down and suckled my clit into her mouth. I groaned, my hips thrusting forward. Waves of pleasure washed over me and I began to pant. Then Sara let go and gave me a light, but firm spank. “Then you give her this as a reward for being good.”
I groaned again, but then Sara delivered another blow to my tender cunt and it drove me back down to the bottom floor with pain. My toes curled and I pulled hard on the ropes holding my open and exposed.
“Breanne is a special sort of girl,” Julie said, both in hers and my defense.
“This is true,” said Sara. “She is special. She can tolerate more than anyone I know. She enjoys darker torments than most of the other subs. And best of all, she is addicted to orgasm, meaning that she will do and endure practically anything to get the biggest and best orgasms.” She hit me again and I squealed. “It also means that we must be especially cruel to her if we are to discourage behavior we do not want, such as cumming when she isn’t supposed to.” Sara lifted the sap and slapped it down on the sodden, burning wetness between my legs.
Julie eyed her even as I lay there gasping, tears streaming down my face. “So you think I’ve been coddling her?” She asked curiously.
Sara shrugged and lifted the sap again. It fell like a hammer and I cried out, twisting as much as I could considering my hands were tied above my head and my legs had been pulled outward so much I was practically doing the splits. Mostly my bottom came up off the couch and thrust my pussy forward. It felt like I’d been roasted with a blowtorch, right between the legs.
“I’m not saying that you haven’t been cruel to her. That’s a given. You have. You’ve done some amazing work with her,” Sara said. “I’ve seen it. Hell, I’ve read about it. But punishment?” She shook her head. “You don’t really punish Breanne.” The blow that followed avoided my clit and seared just my petals downward. I glanced down between my legs, only to see my actually pussy trembling.
Julie snorted. “Yeah? Ask her about denial days,” she said ruefully.
Sara laughed. “Yes. That is definitely one way to punish Breanne. But I know another,” she said simply.
My mistress put her hands on her hips. “And that is?”
Sara looked me in the eye. “For Breanne to have her perfect orgasm, it has to both hurt and be arousing. So you can either hurt her someplace that has no sexual connotation or…” Her voice trailed off and she lifted the sap dangerously. “Or you hurt her so that she loses hold of her arousal.” Then the sap fell, hard and fast, beating the soft spot between my legs with such fury, such heat, that all I could do was clench my teeth and scream through them. My ass came up off the couch and even that didn’t stop Sara. The sap crashed into my pussy and for a moment I could have sworn someone had taken a saw to my cunt. Each smack seemed to hurt worse and by the time Sara stopped I was seeing red. My pussy burned as if a red hot poker had been drawn downward through my petals and across my clit.
“Now,” Sara said smugly. “Now she’s ready for the pony.”
I was sobbing as they untied me and the second my legs were free I brought them together, my body instinctively wanting to protect my soft bits. It was only then I realized that the vibrating clamps were still hanging on my nipples. I trembled, wrapping my arms around myself, taking sharp, short breaths as the pain slowly ebbed, but didn’t really go away. I felt Julie’s hand on my shoulder.
“Bre,” she said softly. “Bre, dear. You need to roll the dice. We need to see how many minutes you’ll be on the pony.” She pulled gently on my arm and I let her. Gingerly I stood up, my crotch throbbing and aching. The last thing I wanted was to ride the pony. I stumbled over to the table and picked up the cup. I heard the dice rolling around inside of it and I glanced down. There were five now, five where there had been four before.
“You never know,” Julie said with an optimistic smile. “You might get five ones.”
I gave her a look that spoke volumes and I upended the cup. The dice poured out and Sara rose up behind me, a hand on my shoulder. Then I realized that Amanda and Gwennie were standing there too, looking down. Isobel stood next to Julie while Madeline, her face still glistening with pussy juice, grinned from beside her. Kylie and Savannah came around the opposite side while Alissa, all beautiful and stately, watched from nearby.
“Oh,” Julie gasped. “Oh no.”
Three fives, a six, and a three. The worst roll of the entire afternoon. Of course.
“Twenty-four minutes,” Julie said, sounding somewhat dismayed. “Christ Breanne, you are probably the unluckiest person on the planet.”
“Slut,” Gwen piped up. “She’s the unluckiest slut.”
Everyone gave her a peculiar look, except Amanda, who smiled lovingly. Sara, who stood to my side, ran a hand down my back and over my flank. It was a caress, meant to be reassuring. Instead I stood there, staring at the dice. Then Mistress Amanda swept the dice into her hand, put it in the cup, and handed it to Gwen. The little blond looked at her mistress in surprise.
“I suggest we give Breanne a saving throw,” she declared. I gave her a startled glance. I hadn’t expected her to use a Dungeons & Dragons term. Interesting. She motioned to Gwennie. “Roll the die. If you roll a higher number than twenty-four, you will ride the pony for her.”
Julie’s eyes lit up and she nodded slightly. “Justice,” she whispered. Amanda smiled ruefully. Gwen took a deep breath, glancing both at me and the pony. Then she shook the cup and rolled. Everyone held their breath.
“A three, a three, a six, a two and a one,” declared Isobel. She looked up. “Fifteen. Breanne rides the pony.”
Julie pointed at the table. “But for just fifteen minutes,” she declared. All the other mistresses looked up at her and an angry look crossed her face. “I’m Breanne’s mistress.”
Finally Isobel nodded. “Right you are. Fifteen minutes.”
Sara pulled on my arm and I was tugged away from the table. Then it was Julie grabbing hold and I was led back to the pony.
“Step up Breanne. Straddle it,” she said.
I did, rising up on tiptoe. Behind me I heard Gwennie gasp. I swiveled my head to see her against the wooden frame, grabbing hold of a bar much lower than the one I’d been holding on to. Savannah, Kylie and Amanda were all tormenting the little blond, with Kylie on her knees, licking at her clit while the two mistresses began working on her breasts. It was a pretty, intriguing sight.
“Scoot forward a bit more, Bre.”  I glanced down and shuffled forward. Sara and Julie helped me until I was standing right over the stained and slick center of the saddle. The edge was just a millimeter beneath my poor petals.
“Are you ready?” Julie asked. I nodded. Sara smiled and used her head to point toward Gwen, who was already moaning in pleasure.
“I have a feeling that Gwen is going to replace you on the pony when your time is up,” she said softly, right near my ear.
“And I’ll be done?” I asked, my voice sounding raw and unfinished. To my shock, it was Julie who answered.
“What? Oh! No! Absolutely not!” She scolded me. “You have to cum ten times at least before I let you off the hook. That's the beauty of this torment,” she declared. Her fingers went up both arms to my wrists, then pulled them backward, only to secure them at my spine.
“And now, princess, I want to watch you ride,” Julie said. “It’s part of your punishment. And it’s going to hurt.”  Then she stepped back, watching as my legs began to tremble. It didn’t take long. The arches of my feet began to ache, then my calves. I struggled to stay up but I knew it was a moot point. Sooner or later I was going to feel the bite of that wooden edge, right up between the petals of my sex, digging into me. I bit my lip, then whimpered as the familiar ache slid up my legs. The vibrations of the clamps on my nipples seemed so intense. Then, just when I expected it, I sighed, my legs giving out, dropping me down on the saddle.
“See?” Julie said. “Hurts? Doesn’t it?” She asked.
Oh my.  
Can I have another please?