When I climbed out of my jeep that evening, the sweet scent of jasmine filled the air, the sky was full of scarlet and gold, and I was experiencing my own personal earthquake.
Generally, the United States Geological Survey keeps a pretty close eye on seismic movements, but since it’s been close to twelve years since I last fucked someone with even aspirations of becoming a geologist, I’m pretty sure that no one from the government was aware of the pear sized sex toy that was shaking violently in my sex. It was purple, not that they’d be able to see it, since they’d need a speculum or a serious sense of perversion to tell what color it might be. But I could sure as hell feel it as my pussy tightened around the rolling, buzzing egg in rhythmic spasms, quickly working myself into a froth.
The control fob (since the damn thing was wireless) was in my right hand. To be honest, it was just a little unusual for me to be in possession of the thing. Kari, my best friend, lover, mistress, and employer, all rolled into one, had held onto it for almost the entire day, tormenting me on and off as she saw fit. A number of orgasms, none of them authorized and all of them resulting in some sort of additional sexual torture “termed” as punishment, had left me both wanton and desperately deviant.
But that is the nature of a nympho humiliation pain slut.
I walked slowly across the parking lot, my bag bouncing against my leg. My reduced speed wasn’t because I wanted the vibrating egg to have more time to push me into an orgasm. Nor was it because of the slutty green dress I was wearing, which threatened to dump my breasts out into the warm, muggy air. It had more to do with the duck billed clamp which was still clinging to my clit, and the swinging, spiked beads that dangled off the clamp. The beads started off small and got larger as they went down, so that the largest, most spiniest, was positioned right between my thighs. Standing upright, this made walking an interesting proposition, and considering the five inch black stilettos I was wearing, a slow, methodical process.
Oh. Try doing it with a vibrator going nuts inside you too.
Sitting down, the beads had been even more intolerable. Not only was I unable to truly close my legs properly, but the smaller beads had a tendency to work their way between my labia, digging the spikes and spines into my sensitive skin. Admittedly, it was a tease – a horrible, awful tease – and the resulting lubrication kept me wet and dripping.
Of course the spikes weren’t the only torments exciting me. Had you tugged up the back side of the green dress, exposing my panty-less rump, you would have caught sight of a jeweled butt plug, another “punishment” from Kari for an accidental orgasm. Tugging my bodice downward would have revealed a pair of square shaped clamps, locked firmly over each nipple, and only barely concealed by the dress itself.
So yes. My personal earthquake was quite an event. Sorry you USGS guys missed it. Next time put one of your seismic sensors up my ass.
I was parked in front of a downtown high rise and despite the evening hour there were still plenty of people who did a doubletake as I approached the front entrance. Late workers heading home, a few contractors getting set up to do whatever it was they did, everyone had time to look over at the redheaded fuck slut in her stupid high heels and the dress that barely covered her ass…ets. And imagine… they didn’t even know about the vibrating egg, or the clamps, or the spikey beads!
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst as I opened the glass door and stepped inside. Earlier that day I’d had a little bit of an accident in that very lobby and the resulting splatter of cum had resulted in security getting way too much information about me. I half expected to see the same security officer standing at the desk, but to my sense of relief, it was a different man.
I walked purposefully across the lobby, but our eyes met and I saw cold, stark recognition. He knew who I was. He knew I was the slut who had literally orgasmed while standing in front of the elevators, leaving an intriguing pattern of girl goo on the floor. My cheeks heated up instantly and I probably could have boiled water on the tip of my nose, I was so humiliated.
Yet, neither of us said a word. I thought the vibrator between my legs was very loud, but I made it to the elevator without opposition or comment. I pressed the button and a moment later I stepped into relieved silence as I whizzed upward, my elevation actually meeting my sexual heights as I climbed the mountain path toward another climax. The elevator dinged and I saw that I’d reached my intended floor, so I shouldered my bag and stepped out into the hall.
The law firm I was visiting that evening was well known, so don’t expect me to name it. I was scheduled to meet one of the junior partners in order to collect some measurements for Kari, who had been hired to re-design and execute new ergonomics and add some artistic flair to their lobby, hallways, and breakrooms. In fact, we had both sat there that morning for preliminary discussions between her and a man named Jason Cavanaugh. Of course, while they’d talked art styles, Mr. Cavanaugh’s junior partner was putting his hand up my dress, checking to see if I’d been wearing panties.
Instead, I’d had the duck billed clamp on, the one with the beads. And he’d liked that fact.
I knocked on the glass door. The receptionist was already gone for the day and the lights were out. Still, there was illumination pouring out from the hall doorway, and as I stood there, pussy still quivering, nipples throbbing, legs spread wider than was proper, I wondered if John Parsons, Mr. Cavanaugh’s junior partner, would be there alone. I saw a shadow appear, which then became the man himself.
John Parsons was tall, lean, with a full head of dark hair and a winsome smile. I had noticed a wedding band on his left hand earlier that day, but it was missing now. Besides, it wasn’t my place to keep a person’s vows and fidelity. I gave him a beaming smile and a little wave as he came up and quickly unlocked the door.
“Hello Miss Breanne,” he said warmly as I stepped into the office.
“Good evening, Mr. Parsons,” I replied. “And please, call me ‘Bre’.” I felt my cheeks heating up and I hoped it looked pretty. “Thank you for being willing to let me come in this evening to get measurements,” I added.
He waved his hand. “Of course. It’s not a problem. I had a few things I needed to attend to anyway.”
I glanced around. It didn’t seem like anyone else was there. I cleared my throat. “If you don’t mind, is there a place I can change outfits? I’m going to be crawling about on the floor and in this dress I’d be flashing my goodies everywhere.” I gave him an embarrassed grin.
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” he replied, though whether it was to showing me a place to change, or me flashing my goodies, I didn’t know. However he led me back down the hallway, into the light. We bypassed a number of offices and the same conference room we’d met in earlier that day, and I found myself in a spacious room against the glass panes of the tower, looking out over downtown. It was impressive. There was a large desk, a round table in the corner, lots of bookshelves and law books, and even a small sofa. The overhead lights were off and instead the illumination came from two smaller lamps. “You can change here,” Mr. Parsons said, gesturing around.
I put my bag down on the table. John Parsons made no effort to leave and instead stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes smoldering. Our eyes met and the sexual tension rose dramatically. So I gave him what he wanted.
I started by turning away from him. When doing a strip tease you never just strip. No, you need to tease. Tantalize. Torment even. So as I slowly unzipped the dress he got a really good view of my back. The bodice fell away from my breasts and I wrapped an arm across them as I turned once, pirhouetting for him. By the time the green material fell away from my hips I was already facing the other direction again. He got to see my well rounded, jewel plug stuffed ass. I swayed a bit, but then I turned once more, dropping my arm, revealing myself to him. I cocked a hip as his eyes widened, and I knew he was staring at the clamps on my breasts. He eyefucked me up and down, finding the clamp on my clit, and the spiked beads.
“That sound,” he said softly, inquisitively. “A vibrator?”
I nodded. I fished the fob out of my bag and held it up. “Do you think I’m a naughty girl for having it in me?” I asked.
He grinned. “Definitely.”
“Naughty girls deserve to be punished,” I said simply.
“Do you need to be punished?” He asked.
I shrugged and looked upward. “I’m being naughty, aren’t I?”
“Absolutely. What sort of punishment do you think is appropriate?”
He was fishing. I knew it. This was tantamount to asking how far he could go. I licked my lips and closed the distance between us. “A spanking? Your belt being whipped against my pussy and my bottom and my breasts? You making me taking Kari’s measurements naked, humiliated as I crawl around on the floor? Spreading myself open on your desk? Getting fucked at the window, my clamped breasts against the glass?” I half-expected a look of shock on his face, but instead he just looked hungry. I could see him mulling it all over.
“Or all of the above,” I finished. I stepped close to him and pressed my naked body against his, my hands going down to the bulge in his pants. I felt his rock hard cock under the material and rubbed it eagerly.
He smiled. “In any particular order?”
I stepped back and leaned against the desk, looking younger and naughtier and more sexual. “On the contrary, it’s your choice,” I purred.
John Parsons began to undo his belt. “Then,” he said pragmatically, pulling me over toward the sofa, “let’s begin with that spanking.”
He sat down, dragging me across his lap. I lay there, his knees against my side. His left hand came up under my breast, teasing my nipple and squeezing the soft flesh, even as his other hand began rubbing my bottom back and forth. His right hand came up off my rump and my breath caught. The first swat was light, a love tap, and when I only moaned in pleasure, wiggling my little ass seductively, he managed a stronger blow.
“Mmmmmm,” I hummed as the third spank landed. I looked back over my shoulder at him, a teasing expression on my face. “You know, I’m a much naughtier girl than that.”
John laughed, rubbing my bottom enthusiastically. “Oh? Do you like it harder?”
I grinned. “I like everything harder.”
The next swat was more like it and it stung this time, turning to a soft, pulsing heat as I gasped. My thighs bounced against his legs, my pussy clenching around the vibrator. My hips began thrusting and another spank caught my left buttock, pushing it upward from below. I let out a hissing coo and wriggled again.
“Ow!” John gasped, pushing me half off him. “What the hell?”
I slid to the floor and saw him rubbing his leg. I blinked. “Oh! The beads!” I exclaimed. I put a hand on his leg and gave him a pained look. “I’m sorry!” I climbed to my feet, spreading my legs wide in front of him, and he got his first good look at the spiked and spiny beads dangling from my clitoris.
“It’s alright,” he said. “I don’t think I’m bleeding or anything.” He grinned. “A booby trap?”
I cupped my clamped breasts. “These are my boobies,” I said smugly. “The beads are meant to torment me. They constantly prick my pussy and keep me…” I paused meaningfully. “Sensitive.” I thrust my hips forward and put my slit within a fingerbreadth of John’s hand and he reached up.
“Well, I don’t think we need these on while I’m punishing you,” he said assuredly. His fingers touched the clamp and I gasped as he pinched it open, freeing my clitoris. “And as for the vibrator, you’re going to have something else inside you shortly.” He put the clamp down on the side table next to the couch, and then ran his hand between my legs again. I groaned as he slid his thumb into my pussy, snagging the loop of the egg, drawing it out. I turned off the vibrator with the control fob, and then handed it to him as he tugged the toy out of my sex. He dumped it wetly on the floor, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me back across his lap. I let out a laugh.
This time he played with the jeweled butt plug, teasing it, pulling it half-way out and pushing it back in for a moment before he began the actual spanking. Without the vibrator inside me, I came down a few levels of intensity, but as the stinging heat spread across my posterior, the wetness of pussy didn’t diminish in the least. As the discomfort rose to a point where I was panting, I could feel the hardness of his cock against my ribs. John’s hand flew, smacking my ass with faster and harder blows. My high heels kicked in the air and I squirmed across his lap until he slipped his fingers into my slit, going deep, right up to the knuckle.
I cried out in utter pleasure, which was what he wanted to hear. For almost a minute I wriggled like a fish on a hook, his fingers inside me, curling and fucking me. I could feel my orgasm building, coming straight at me, and I was quite verbal in my appreciation. Then he pulled his fingers out of me, wiped his hand off on my bare ass, and pushed me to the floor. Panting, desperate, I looked up at him as he stood up. He began unbuckling his belt, his eyes flashing with need, so I twisted and slid onto my back, opening up and grabbing my legs behind the knees. It was an obscene, lewd position, offering my perfect, well sauced goodies to him. Our eyes met, though he kept glancing down at my breasts and pussy.
“Please sir? Whip my pussy with your belt?” I begged him.
He took it off, taking ahold of it so that the last ten inches formed a nice sap-like paddle, but the next twenty strokes he gave me were more like love taps than real punishment. My clit swelled and I gasped and squealed enough to make him happy, all the while wishing that Kari was there to truly punish me. When she whips my sex, it burns. Still, the leather of John Parson’s belt kissed my pussy, flattening my petals and making my clitoris tingle until I was moaning and thrusting my hips in desperation. I wanted him to hit me harder. I needed him to be more forceful, when he grabbed my wrist and yanked me upright. I balanced on my knees and looked up at him, mouth open, waiting.
“Now,” he ordered, “cup your breasts.”
I knelt before him, cupping my clamped breasts. Each pierced nipple was caught in an impressive bar type clamp, squeezing the delicate nubs and making me incredibly conscious of how they felt. The clamps weren’t tight enough to hurt, but they were uncomfortable, and I could feel the light throb of my heart trying to push blood through the compressed tips. John took the last few inches of his belt and began striking my breasts, right over the clamps. It bent my nipple painfully and I groaned. I turned my face to look away as he smacked my breast and I winced as the pain began to overwhelm me.
Just when I neared my breaking point, he dropped the belt, flinging it away and struggled with his trousers. I kept my hands on my breasts, not daring to move without orders, but wanting to help. Then his cock, hard and erect, seemed to leap from his boxers, smacking my cheek. I didn’t need to be told what to do. I opened my mouth and began sucking.
He tasted like clean soap and the earthy scent of warm skin. He was a little above average in cock length too and I found the tip of his shaft banging into the back of my throat as I bobbed my head eagerly. I let go of my breasts, one hand coming up to caress his scrotum as my other found the base of his dick, squeezing it and massaging it. He put a hand on my head, more for support than to control my movements. I licked him up and down, along the sides and around the tip, teasing the edges of his circumcised head. I heard him groan, but I didn’t want him coming in my throat. I wanted his cock in my cunt. It was time to take charge. I pulled my head back and grabbed hold of his cock.
“I need you, sir.” It was a whisper of promise and from the flushed coloring on his face, I knew he’d do exactly what I wanted. Still holding his shaft, I grabbed a condom from my bag and I put it on him, stroking his rod eagerly. Then I turned toward the credenza against the glass windows. I bent over, looking out of the building, my nudity blatant and obvious, and pressed my breasts against the cool glass.
John Parsons stripped off his pants and boxers, moved up behind me and slid himself into my pussy.
“Ohhhh,” I moaned. “Yes. Fuck me hard please?” I begged him. His balls slapped against my bottom, his thrusts getting more and more frenzied. I groaned, loving every second of it. He held onto my hips. Then, much to my surprise, he grabbed me, turning me around, his cock pulling out. He pushed me to the floor, onto my back, and followed me down. In seconds his shaft was back in my pussy, him on top of me, fucking me stupid on the floor of his office.
“Yes!” I cried out. “Harder!” I yelled. I know its cliché. But there are certain expectations when you’re a fucking nympho humiliation pain slut. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and a moment later, he grunted strongly, thrusting hard into my loins. His cock jerked inside me and I felt the pulse as he let loose. The condom held it all though, and he gasped, pulling out and falling backward.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, clearly winded.
Me? I was still heavily aroused. I sat up wanting more. I looked at him, a sinking feeling already spreading through my chest. John Parsons was probably done for the night.
Slowly I stood up. I gave him a warm smile as I went back to the couch. I grabbed his trousers, then picked up his boxers, and took them to him. He had moved to the office chair and was sitting there with a silly smile on his face.
“That was incredible,” he said. I gave him a kiss.
“Absolutely.” I turned and went back to my bag. I pulled out a skimpy little set of shorts and a tee shirt that declared I was a “whore in training.” Then I grabbed the egg toy from where it was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa. I sat down, spread my legs obscenely, and stuffed it back in. Parsons watched, his eyes wide.
“So you, uh… have that thing in you all the time?”
I laughed and shook my head. “God no,” I replied. “It’s something different each day. Otherwise I’d get used to it.” I let out a little groan as the egg settled. Then I found the clamp with the spiky beads.
“So that’s what I was feeling when you came by earlier today,” he said, leaning forward. “What’s that for?”
I took a deep breath. “To torment me. The spikes are constantly poking and pricking my pussy. It keeps me wet and makes me move in a more graceful manner. It’s maddening and makes me want to touch myself, or offer myself up to be touched.”
“I approve,” he said, grinning.
I sighed. “Except it's not as much fun when you’re wearing shorts!” I said dramatically, shaking out the clothing I’d brought. “Can’t really do the measurements in a dress, but when this gets tight it jams the beads into my pussy.”
Mr. Parsons looked quite concerned. “Doesn’t that hurt?” He asked.
I nodded. “Absolutely. But I think that’s the point, isn’t it?”
He blinked. “You are quite the young lady,” he said finally. I stood up and pulled the shorts up to my waist. Just as I predicted, the crotch came up, pressing the beads firmly between my petals. I tightened up around the egg, gasping softly, and then buttoned things up. Next I pulled the shirt over my head and covered up my breasts, leaving the square shaped clamps on my breasts.
I grabbed my bag and pulled out a notepad and my tools, including the laser level. Mr. Parsons slipped back into his boxers and trousers, pulling them up.
“Do you need me for anything?” He asked curiously. I shook my head.
“Not really. Unless you want to watch me crawl around on my hands and knees, taking measurements and notes, all while trying not to move to fast or too much with all this…” I gestured to my shorts, or more accurately, what was under the shorts, “sending me into sexual apoplexy.”
John Parsons let out a laugh and walked over toward me. He picked up the small control fob that went to my egg toy. “Watching you crawl around, trying not to explode, sounds like a perfect way to spend the evening,” he replied. I smiled and turned. I didn’t even make it to the door before the vibrator inside me turned on.
“You know, there’s one measurement I’ll definitely have to get,” I said in teasing voice. His eyebrow arched.
“And that is?”
I grinned. “Just how long your amazing cock is. Will you be willing to get it out again when I’m done with everything else?”
Jon Parsons laughed. “For you? Absolutely. But afterward, can I take you out for a drink? And will you wear the green dress for me?”
I smiled, warm and light and fun. “Sir, I’ll wear anything you want.” I walked out into the hall, leaving him to stare at my sweet, spanked little ass. “Or nothing at all.”
The End (of this tale!)
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