Sunday, April 15, 2018

Permission

(Yes, we did one of the poll assignments. No. I haven't written it up yet. I did it last night and these things take time. But here's something from about three weeks ago. - Love Bre.)

“Oh. Shit,” I said as the front wheels of my jeep bounced up onto the entrance of the parking lot. I quivered in the driver’s seat, a steel chain stretched between my breasts. Two alligator clamps chewed delicately on my nipples, the metal teeth biting into the tender points with cruelty. I turned into the parking lot and gulped with sudden trepidation. My pussy tightened around the rubber dildo and my stomach both gurgled with hunger, and formed a tight little ball of lead.

It tends to do that when I know I’m in trouble. The problem was that I didn’t know just how bad that trouble would be.

I pulled my jeep into the empty parking space between the red convertible and the red coupe. It was a familiar spot, sandwiched between my two mistresses, Kari and Julie. Usually they tormented me separately, but on occasion, their passion for sexually satisfying their sadistic needs complimented each other. This wasn’t good. Not in the least. I knew it. I took a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves, but it was hopeless. I knew that. Instead I reached up, and with a soft hiss, freed my tender nipples from the clover clamps.

The jeep had been a gift from Kari, but it had come with a couple of “stipulations”, a term I had once appropriated to indicate a series of sexual enhancements to turn the mundane into something more prurient. At first, Kari had stipulated that if driving alone, my nipples needed to be clamped and chained to the steering wheel. The problem with this, as one of my fans pointed out, was that in the event of a collision, the airbag would become lethal. No one wants me dead, so that stipulation was tossed out in favor of something else - thus the alligator clamps. This meant either opening my shirt, or taking it off my outfit, and since one of the other stipulations Kari had established from day one, was that I drive naked, weather permitting, I reached over and grabbed my dress, which was sitting on the seat next to me.

It was a short dress, with everything under the bosom a familiar blue plaid that screamed “schoolgirl.” The bust itself was made of a disturbingly thin, white cotton, which did not go well with the braless, gold pierced, padlock wearing girl who was about to put it on. I slipped it down over my head, jiggled a few bits to get them into the right spots, and then glanced down. The tips of both breasts were visible through the translucent material, the dollar sized points pink and gold. An actual padlock, small and engraved with a rose, hung from the right nipple and just emphasized my slutty nature. Never mind the scarlet locks, the long bare legs, the overly short dress, or the high heels I was about to put on. Everything about me screamed four simple words; nympho humiliation pain slut.

One of Kari’s other car stipulations involved a seven inch long vibrator, which was to be inserted any time I was behind the wheel. This had created some logistical problems, because of Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule 1. Rule 1 says that girls like me are required to have cock, or some other toy, in her pussy at all times. The idea is that I'm ready to be sexually used at any moment, but I think it's more psychological than that. I'm always wet and wanting. It affects my attitude, my demeanor. I constantly think of sex, of being spread open, taken, used for pleasure. It reinforces my general attitude, emphasizing it until I'm nothing but a walking, talking, squirming, squirting sex doll.

I pulled the vibrator out from between my legs. It was soaked, which was expected since I hadn't had an orgasm in over five days. The stop light masturbation and edging Kari required had only primed the pump, setting me up for what would undoubtedly be an unauthorized orgasm later. That was a favorite of Kari and Julie. Get me all worked up, then deny me permission to cum. Of course it was a trick. They would tell me that if I came without permission I'd be punished. Which is what they really wanted.

I licked the vibrator clean, just as any slut would, and dumped the slick phallus into the plastic cup I kept in the center console. Switching out sex toys every time you get in the car requires planning. The car vibe settled and I plucked the Monster Vibrator out of the cup, pointed the tapered tip toward my hot, slippery slit, and thrust it in.

The Monster Vibrator had been a gift from Julie and was diabolical on several levels. First of all, it was long. Twelve inches long in fact, and three inches thick. It filled me rather completely. Which I admit I liked. Inside the Monster Vibrator, were not one, or two, or even three motors, but four, each of them capable of independent operation. There was only one switch; turning it off or on, and I made sure the toy was ready.

But it stayed silent.

I had very little control over the Monster Vibrator. It was operated using a special phone app that required a code. Connected via Bluetooth to my own cell phone, anyone with the correct code could order it to run, in a variety of patterns that could simulate everything from being fucked with a jackhammer to having your insides tickled from cervix to clitoris.

I glanced back over at the other seat. My panties were sitting there and I picked them up, threading them onto my bare feet, careful to leave the Monster Vibe buried in my pussy. Normally, panties were anathema around Kari. She claimed they got in the way, though she did say that the emotional stress inflicted upon me in that state was beneficial. Panties are, afterall, a barrier. And for a fuckslut, barriers are bad. Julie was more pragmatic about them. As far as she was concerned, me wearing panties had just one purpose. Holding something in.

Like twelve inches of motorized plastic pipe.

I squirmed around until the Monster Vibrator was cupped in the crotch of my panties, the cotton straining around the large circular base. The elastic was tight and as I reached for the acrylic stripper shoes Kari had asked me to wear that day, I could feel the full length of the silent vibrator digging at me. My pussy tightened in rhythmic little pulses and considering how wet and desperate I already was, I almost dreaded the thing coming to life.


There. Physically ready, if not emotionally. I was dressed in slutty clothing, wearing stupid “please fuck me hard” heels, stuffed to the brim with a foot long, plastic phallus, with my sex a sodden, grasping swamp. Now I just had to prepare mentally. The sad part however, is that nothing prepares a girl to be sexually humiliated, especially if dressing like a whore and having her private parts displayed, toyed with, and eventually tormented are anathema to her personality.

Some girls love being naked. They become pornstars and exhibitionists, nude models and such. Good for them. Me? I'd be quite content to wear blue jeans and flannel tee shirts every day. Work boots too. I'd love to be inconspicuous, a mousy, brown haired girl no one ever pays attention. And that would be my life, except for one thing.

I'm horny.

I know. Disgusting, isn't it? I've been addicted to orgasm: sensual, sexual gratification, since I was twelve years old. Imagine my surprise, discovering (not quite at that tender age, but close,) that some judiciously applied humiliation, a little sexual pain, and being used by an ever changing plethora of lovers would provide orgasms ten, twenty, even a hundred times more powerful than those I could achieve on my own.

Kari and Julie were the means to that end.

I closed the door of my jeep. The air was warm and smelled of dew, flowers, and morning sunlight. I took a careful step away from my jeep and faced the restaurant. Meeting both of my mistresses for breakfast was unusual. It meant torment. It meant pleasure. It meant punishment. I headed toward the restaurant and wondered how long before they were twisting my body to dance to their whims, tormenting me into the stressed, half panicked state where I was willing to let them use me, defile me, abuse me, and make me theirs.

The answer? The time it took to take just three fucking steps.

Before I'd even passed the bumper of Kari’s convertible the Monster Vibrator roared to life. There was no slow increase from zero to sixty, shifting through the gears. Fuck no. All four motors went full throttle right from the start. I froze mid step, pussy tightening in spasms, my entire lower half on a fucking collision test track, aimed straight for a wall with the words “public orgasm” painted sloppily across the brick.

And I was the crash test dummy.

But just as I thought I'd swoon, toppling over in a fit, the vibrations between my legs slowed to a mere trickle. I felt each motor flutter, a tickling spasm that flittered up through my pussy, danced across my G spot, and swirled back down to my petals. I gasped, locked in place, trembling as I tried to assert my will, struggling to maintain a vestige of decorum.

It took a minute, and I had to resist the urge to use the hem of my dress to dab at the rapidly moistening crotch of my panties, but I managed to get ambulatory. I made my way up to the door, the Monster Vibrator still dancing in short, light bursts, and I went into the building.

The place wasn't packed, which was a blessing, and I spotted Kari and Julie sitting together in the corner booth along the front window. That explained how they had known I'd arrived. They’d literally seen me. I headed toward them, trying to ignore the incessant buzz between my legs, and slid into the empty seat across from the two dominatrixes.

Julie Uterro was seven years younger than me and was model thin. This wouldn't have been a problem, since her cherub face, dark chocolate colored hair, and almost perfect complexion would have given fashion models a run for their money. The issue was that she had no chest. Her breasts were flatter than pancakes. She deliberately wore outfits that were cut to make her top look bulkier and today was no exception. A ivory colored silk blouse along with a felt jacket made her look svelte, fashionable, and busty.

Kari, on the other hand, was a golden goddess. She was half a year older than me, taller than me, bustier than me, and sported a wealth of sunshine colored hair that fell in straight, stylish sheets to cascade off her shoulders. Kari wore a scarlet colored suit, with a matching pencil skirt, and gold glinted at her neck, ears, and fingers. She was worthy of worship. Her eyes sparkled with the same vitality that illuminated Julie's, but there was also a hint of amusement, as if she wanted to laugh at me.

“How's tricks, princess?” Julie asked crudely, using her pet name for me. I despised it. It made me feel like I was twelve.

I swallowed. “Tense. I almost orgasmed out in the parking lot.”

“Good,” Julie declared. “I like it when you're on the edge.”

A waitress swung by and got our orders and I was relieved that she didn't glare or seem to judge me. After she left, I gave the two of them a suspicious glare.

“So what brings the two of you together for breakfast?” I asked, deciding that I’d rather know what was coming, instead of having it dangle over me like the sword of Damocles.

“You do,” Kari replied. “After a week of being denied sexual gratification, both Julie and I felt the timing for this particular assignment was appropriate.”

Oh. Oh shit.

When I first started writing out my “tales” they were intended to be short, sweet, and sassy. To help with content, I came up with this idea: readers could submit sexual tasks they wanted me to do. That blossomed into a bevy of online doms and dommes, each who sent in task after task, subjecting me to a whirlwind of free love, public humiliation, bondage, discipline, and masochism. I hated it. I loved it.

“I'm not sure if your fans love you, or just love to torment you,” Julie said with a grin, “but there is good news.”

“There’s good news?” I asked plaintively.

Kari leaned forward, an engaging smile on her face. “For the next seventy-two hours, you may cum.”

I blinked in surprise.

“As often as you would like,” Julie added with a nod. She was grinning.

I sat there, flummoxed. Orgasms? Lots of them? I wasn't biting. There was a catch. There had to be.

Julie nudged Kari with her elbow. “Look at her, the suspicious little fuck. She's wondering what the catch is.”

Kari laughed. “It is amusing, watching her twitch.”

“That's not twitching,” she disagreed, picking up her phone. She swiped her fingers across it and suddenly the tickling sensation between my legs intensified, changing into a wave of stimulation that crested and crashed against my cervix, threatening to swamp me. I clenched my teeth, trying not to twitch, but my hips had other ideas. The two dominatrixes watched as I struggled against the inevitable, a gasp escaping my lips as my loins began pumping.

Now she's twitching,” Julie said. Kari nodded. “You're right of course,” Julie continued. “There is a catch. While you are allowed to cum as many times as possible, in fact encouraged to cum over and over again, you must ask permission to cum each time.”

My eyes widened and I gulped. I was going to need to ask permission soon. Really soon if Julie didn't turn down the Monster Vibrator. I shifted in my seat, squirming as my blood pressure rose dramatically. I glanced around the restaurant. My back was to most of it, but just a few tables away were an elderly couple. The wife wasn't paying me any attention, but older gentleman certainly was. I blushed crimson and tried not to shift my hips, looking away from his eyes.

“The problem,” Kari said. “Is that neither Julie nor I can grant you permission to cum. In fact, none of your regular doms and dommes may. This includes the various mistresses of the Society of the Golden Rose…”

“... and Zach at the fraternity,” added Julie. I blinked, their instructions turning in my brain. Wait a moment. What? They couldn’t “grant” permission?

“Nor Nick, Alex, or Mike the Hardware Guy,” finished Kari. “That's not our role.”

“B-b-but… who can grant permission?” I stammered, my slipping tongue stuttering in time with the throbbing pulses of the Monster Vibrator. My ass tightened as my pussy tried to throttle the phallic toy dancing inside me.

Julie shrugged. “Anyone else obviously,” she said scornfully. She gave me a wicked look, like she was expecting me to pull my breasts out and offer them up for a quick spanking session.

“As soon as you are on the edge, you will need to approach someone,” said Kari.

“Anyone,” chimed in Julie.

Kari smiled patiently. “And ask them for permission.”

“To cum!” Julie finished.

My jaw dropped in horror as the awful realization hit me.

Julie grinned. “It gets worse! If they do grant you permission, you need to cum in their presence, and announce your orgasm, just like you are supposed to.”

Kari nodded. “I believe you are to say ‘Oh god, I'm cumming!’ in a loud, clear voice?”

“Indeed,” Julie affirmed. “And after you've had a nice, little explosion, you should offer the very nice person who gave you permission to orgasm, the opportunity to use your body.” She reached out and patted my trembling hand. “Boys or girls. It doesn't matter who you ask, or how they want to use you afterword.”

I knew what that meant. It meant that I’d offer to let them use me. It could be something as simple as feeling me up, or having cock stuck down my throat, or being laid across a table for a good, hard fucking. But I’m not stupid. Getting that sort of treatment, right after exploding, would only jack me up again. I’d be on edge by the time they were finished, ready to cum once more.

Kari gave Julie a stern look. “It is possible that they decline the offer, and if so you have no further obligation. The orgasm is earned, free and clear.” She leaned forward. “ However, if the person you have asked permission from, either denies you, or does not respond, you need to explain to them that if you cum without their permission, you will earn a punishment, a ten stroke spanking to your bare bottom, which they may give you.”

“Wait! You mean I have to tell them this?”

They nodded together in unison.

“So after telling me I can't cum, they then get to spank me?” The incredulity in my voice raised the pitch a few octaves.

Julie nodded. “And if I were you, I'd be both sincere and exuberant in my request, because if they don't handle your punishment, a simple, ten stroke, bare bottom spanking…”

Kari gave me a direct, penetrating look. “Then we will.” Her tone was dark and foreboding. “The punishment for not getting punished is ten strokes of a whip or sap to each breast, each buttock, the bottoms of both feet, and of course, your clit.”

“That's seventy strokes!” said Julie with excitement.

The color drained from my face as my mouth went dry. This was a direct contrast to the swamp sucking down the Monster Vibrator. My hips shifted as my overactive imagination led me down a variety of paths, all of them ending with my legs spread, a leather sap smacking the wet folds of my sex with hard, fast blows.

Oh. Oh shit.

“In addition,” Julie said, “we are to push you, torment you, and stimulate you in every way imaginable, so that you are constantly needing to cum.” She picked up the phone and fiddled with it. The patterns of pulses coming from the Monster Vibrator changed, worsening. I clenched my teeth and held my breath.

Kari smiled. “Today, tomorrow,  and the next day, you will wear outfits I deem appropriate to facilitate your sexual state. Your toy of the day will reflect our desire for you to cum. Frequently.”

The Monster Vibrator did a herky jerk inside me and I gave Julie a wild eyed look. How could she? Holy fuck! I was so close? Did she expect me to get up out of my seat and approach another customer and beg to.be allowed to splatter my pussy juice all over their shoes? My body and my brain fought, but I knew it was a losing battle. My body was going to win, no matter how humiliating I found my circumstances.

The two women stared at me, watching as the boiler began to steam, the escape valve whistling the danger. I was going to cum. The vibrator churned wildly.

“What if I don't ask anyone permission?” I gasped, pushing my hand down into my lap. The pressure changed. It didn’t actually help, but I had to do something.

Kari frowned. “Then you automatically earn the punishment, as well as having your ass stuffed with your Thrusting Anal Vibrator for the rest of the day.” She gave me a dark look. “I strongly suggest compliance.” Her words were cruel, but effective. No way did I want to endure that. I hate having things up my ass. And to pair it with seventy strokes? That was just cruel.

I took a last shuddering breath, bracing myself, knowing I'd leave a disgusting wet streak as I lifted myself up from the bench seat. But I had no choice. I was about to explode. I was seconds away. I had to ask someone… anyone… my eyes turned toward the older man sitting there, watching me squirm.

“Here you ladies go,” announced the waitress, blocking my view, setting down three plates, laden with eggs and English Muffins and hashbrowns. Fresh fruit and yogurt sat waiting. All three of us looked up at her, two in expectation, me in desperation. My panties were soaked. I could hear the vibrator buzzing.

“Miss?” I asked in a soft, strained voice. The waitress looked down at me, expression pleasant but blank, as if she was unaware of the torment being inflicted upon me.

“Yes?” She asked, no doubt expecting a request for ketchup, or salsa, or more toast. I took a deep breath. It was now or never. I was seconds away, dancing on the edge of a cliff. I at least needed to ask. I had to… ask… before… oh god. Oh shit. The orgasm. It was there, pushing, forcing me. I looked up at her with frantic eyes and blurted out the question Kari and Julie were dying to hear me ask. The Monster Vibrator went nuts in my pussy and there was no more time.

“Please? Can I have your permission to cum?”




If you enjoyed this erotic tale, then you might consider supporting Breanne’s endeavors, by purchasing her books! Available in e-book format from Amazon.com, Breanne Erickson’s “Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut” series is one of the most highly rated extreme BDSM erotica collections. Check out her amazing work at Amazon.com.

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Master Shadow's Poll Results

The voting for Breanne's next assignment is complete!

With 45 votes, the winner by more than 10 was *A*     Bre gets to take a nice long walk naked in public somewhere and cum again and again......

In 2nd place with 34 votes was *B*  Which means she gets tortured on the wooden horse and she has to thank her mistress with her tongue before she is allowed off!

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Poll - Bre's Master Shadow Wants To Know...

Greetings Ladies and Gentlemen,
               
Allow me to formally introduce myself: I am Bre's Master Shadow, while most of the time I give bre an assignment of the predicament nature, today is something a bit different......

I have a surprise for you all, Today is your chance to control our little sex toy. Below are 4 pictures I picked out from the internet with a explanation of what will happen to bre in each picture. I want you to pick out the 2 you like best and sent me your vote to          brevote18@gmail.com

You can rest assure that only I have the password for this and bre's Masters have already agreed to do whichever 2 the fans choose. 

The voting is open until Saturday- May 7, 1 set of votes per e-mail account, your e-mail will be deleted after all votes are tallied. So tell your friends, spread the word far and wide and make sure you vote!

Happy voting,
Master Shadow




YOUR CHOICES ARE............


"A" -- Bre has to go take a walk all tied up with nothing but her collar on and plenty of vibrators to drive her nipples and pussy crazy. The vibrators will be set at just a high enough speed to ensure she cums again and again.  the vibrators will not be turned off until she crosses the finish line. This must be done in a public setting of her master's choosing.



"B" Bre has to ride the wooden horse and the only way off is to pleasure her Master with oral...... right after bre gets tortured on the horse for a while.



"C" Bre is going to be walked naked. She is to be stuffed with a vibrator, nipple clams and a ball gag. She is not allowed to cum at all and just to keep things fun for her Master, every time she starts to slack she gets spanked with something. Once she's done she is to thank her master with oral. Must be done in a public setting.



"D"  Bre is to be tied down nice and tightly.  then made to cum with a toy.... then get spanked....then made to cum with a toy again....then spanked..... this will be repeated until her ass is red and she begs hard  to make it stop, and after she begs she has to go one more round......




Don''t let Bre influence your vote, You pick what you want. You can email your vote to brevote18@gmail.com, or leave a comment below. Or if you're concerned about anonymity, vote in the poll on the sidebar!

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Driving Toward Torment - Part Five

This is Part Five of a multi-part series. Please read Parts One, Two, Three, and Four.

I took my time cleaning up and when I returned to Mike's workroom my face was clean, my teeth brushed, the cum scrubbed from my chest and legs, and the vibroballs nestled gently in the well-used depths of my pussy. They were silent though, since the remote had been left on a bench.
The anal beads however were lightly humming, already setting my lower half up for what I hoped would be another mind blowing climax, presuming Julie went for it. I walked in with the anal bead remote in my hand, the wire stretching up to my butt. Mike and Alex were tinkering with the machine and I saw that the wheel with the leather straps was still connected. Julie was dressed, back in the shorts and polo shirt, looking at me with a surly expression as she leaned against one of the nearby benches. I felt a little awkward as the only naked person around.
I went right up to Julie and knelt down at her feet. It was a classic pose; knees wide apart so that she could see the abraded, swollen state of my clit, hands resting on my thighs, palms up to indicate willingness, breasts thrust forward, presenting the softest parts of me for her pleasure. I kept my eyes down.
“Mistress, I am ready for my punishment,” I said simply.
Julie snorted. “Good. I'm going to whip your feet. Twenty strokes.” She gave me a steely-eyed look. “Each.”
I nodded. “Yes mistress, but might this submissive offer more?”
Mike's head popped up and he gave me a curious look. Alex studiously ignored me and continued working on the machine. It looked like he was removing the seat Julie had gotten fucked in.
“I'm listening,” Julie said. She swung her foot forward and her big toe touched my slit. I gasped slightly at the unexpected touch. She wiggled the digit and it slid up between my petals easily. I struggled to remain still. “My goodness, Bre. So wet?” Julie teased me.
“I would like to trade strokes for minutes,” I said breathlessly, trying to ignore her toe wiggling in my sex.
“Minutes?” She asked curiously, still foot fucking me. “Minutes of what?”
I took a deep breath. “Minutes on the machine. Ten minutes in exchange for ten fewer strokes.”
Mike stood up and hurried over. “Bre, you need to think about this. You weren't able to take six minutes the first time.”
That wasn’t quite true, not from my perspective. Julie was the one who couldn’t handle six minutes. Six simple minutes of a damned dildo being driven into her pussy. I could have handled that. And I didn’t even get a chance to cum while straddling the wheel the first time. I didn't look up at him. “Julie can pedal if she wants, or ask someone else to do it,” I replied with a shrug.
“Yeah, but ten minutes? What if you cum before the time limit is up?” Mike looked really concerned.
I took a deep breath. “Then I endure the punishment like a good little fuck slut.”
Mike looked at Julie, who shrugged. Then she pulled her toe away from my sex. She lifted her foot up. “Suck it clean,” Julie demanded, posing like a perverted ballerina. I lifted my chin and opened my mouth, letting her stick her toe back in me. Different hole.
“She'll need a safe word,” insisted Mike to his girlfriend.
Julie grinned, her leg lifted, her toe in my mouth. “Big toe,” she said wickedly, pulling her foot away from me. She bent over at the waist. “And if you use it, the punishment you get tomorrow will make what I'm going to do to you next look like a walk in the park.” She waved her hand. “Well go on. Climb up there.”
I stood up quickly and went to the platform. The two kneelers beckoned, the steel hoops open and waiting for my ankles. Alex was there, again, able to lift me up. I spread my legs, over the leather strapped wheel and my heart suddenly began to pound. I knew what this would feel like now. It would sting. There would be heat. And I’d be driven into madness with desire.
What the fuck is wrong with me? How could I want something like this?
“I have to strap your legs down,” Alex told me softly. “We can’t have you falling.”
I nodded. “You guys might consider some sort of waist bar or something too,” I said wryly. Alex grinned.
“Yeah. Mike and I already discussed it.”  His fingers moved the steel hoops and secured my ankles down. The Velcro straps came next. Mike came over, holding the clover clamps.
“Do we really need those?” I asked plaintively.
“Damn right we do,” Julie said. She was at the bench where the various canes and crops were laid out and she picked up a thin, plastic number that had a lot of flexibility. It would cut and sting like the dickens. I gulped.
Mike gave me a sympathetic smile, then let the clover clamps bite down on my nipples. Pain rushed through my bosom again and I gasped, taking it all in. For a long moment I wondered if I was being incredibly stupid.
“Alex pedals,” Julie declared as Mike strung up my tits for the second time. I groaned, my fingers clenching into fists. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Then Mike grabbed my wrists and clipped the bondage cuffs together, behind my back. I watched as Alex brought over a folding chair and set it down just in front of the gear. Then Mike hooked the bungee cord to the collar and I was pulled upright.
Oh my god. Was I really going to do this? Again?
Julie moved behind me, cane raised, and she waved it at Alex. “Well. Go on. Pedal. Start.”
Alex gave me a direct look. “Big Toe. That’s the safe word,” he reminded me. I nodded.
“She knows, damn it!” Julie said. “She asked for this.”
Alex checked his watch. “Ten minutes.” He put his feet on the pedals. I sucked in a breath as the wheel started to turn. It spun up. Faster and then faster, the leather straps swinging out. I felt the first graze, then the first true smack striking my vulva. I gasped as the wheel spun and it bit into me, snap snap snap snap. A harsh stinging sensation bloomed between my legs. Then the vibroballs roared to life and I cried out, slinging my hips forward, thrusting into the wheel. Pain shot through my loins, but I’d been right. It didn't just hurt. It felt good too.
Then a sharp line of fire was drawn across the sole of my left foot. It burned like hell and I cried out, toes curling. I tried kicking, but my ankle pulled against the metal hoop and had nowhere to go. The burn became a sting, which began to fade into heat, all as the leather straps whacked at my sex. I felt the arousal, the buzz of the vibroballs, the shaking of the anal beads, and the cruel, steady impact of the leather strap striking my clit. I grit my teeth. What had I been thinking? Ten minutes? I wasn’t going to last five!
Then a fresh cut of the cane bit into me, but it wasn’t across my foot. It slashed across my bottom and I jerked forward, choking as the collar cut off my air. I let out a muted scream, but the sting of Julie’s stroke surged into the other pains and pleasures. For a second I thought of my safe word, but then struggled through the moment.
Julie appeared in front of me with a grin. “I said I’d space out the strokes to your feet. One per minute.” She wiggled the cane. “I never agreed to hold off on beating the rest of you.” She lifted the whippy little stick and began striking the undersides of my boobs. Not slashing mind you, just hard taps. But from my position, it was awful. And she was catching the nipples too. I squealed and twisted, but that just made the clover clamps tighten down. The collar pulled at my throat and Julie stood up on tiptoe, just to make sure the tops of my breasts weren’t feeling left out. I squealed, grimacing through the pain. Then she moved back around me, and I felt a fresh stroke cross my ass.
“That’s it!” Julie cried. “Pump those hips!”
Between my legs the sound of the leather striking changed. It became heavier and I knew that the straps were soaking up my juices. I was gushing. I was pumping. I was…
Oh god. No. Not yet. We were just a minute or two in! I couldn’t! Oh shit! Oh fuck no!
I threw my head back and cried out, “Oh my god! I’m cumming!” just as Julie left a fresh welt across my right foot. Mike, Alex, and Julie all looked up at me in shock. Alex kept pumping. Julie just stood there, eyes wide. Mike’s mouth hung open.
Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap * Snap
The adrenaline that surged through me burned up and the euphoria faded. My vision, which had darkened as my heart pounded, cleared. My brain, unable to differentiate between the myriad sensations streaming in from all parts of my body for so long, suddenly separated them. I felt the throbbing ache of the clover clamps, clinging tightly to my nipples. I felt the lack of oxygen from my tightly bound throat. I felt the residual sting of where Julie had hit me, fresh welts that I knew would remain visible for days. I’d be limping on the way home. And worst of all was the burning, smacking, heat of the sodden straps, spanking my swollen, abraded, tenderized, poor clit. I shuddered, only then realizing that tears were pouring down my cheeks. I shuddered, at the end of my limits. So I whispered my safe word.
“Big toe.”


The end of this tale. But there will be more... we promise!

If you enjoyed this tale, please take a moment to support Breanne's work. That mostly means buying copies of her books. All of her books are in e-book format, available from Amazon.com. Most of them are a mere 99 cents. If you can't support her in that fashion, please spread the word. Repost our tumblr announcements featuring Bre. Go onto forums and talk about her writing. Nominate her for awards. Whatever. Or if you've a mind, you can visit Breanne's Patreon page. And we finally pulled it out of her, but the little minx has an Amazon wishlist, with... well... the expected stuff. Anything. Make this little fuckslut just as popular as that gray stuff!