“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said darkly, studying the clothing that had been tossed in my direction. Julie looked at me from the driver’s seat of her car with a grin that would have made Batman’s nemesis The Joker look depressed.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” She asked sternly. Her fingers were lightly curved around the steering wheel.
I held up the shirt so that the afternoon light illuminated it from the back. There wasn’t much to it. It was threadbare, old, the material almost translucent from being washed a zillion times, cut, and looked like it once belonged to a large, old guy who beat his wife.
“Julie! This won’t even cover my breasts!” I further protested.
She laughed. “Yes it will. Sort of. A lot will be showing, but unfortunately the good parts will be covered. Don’t worry!”
I was already turning crimson. We were parked in a small concrete parking lot near a running trail that Julie had been frequenting recently. In fact, she was already dressed as if she planned to go for a run. Her lithe frame was covered in a neon colored pink and black shirt and her cute little ass was wrapped up in running shorts. She was even wearing her Sketchers. Personally, I’m not much of a runner but if she enjoyed it I was hardly going to stop her.
There were only three cars parked in the lot besides ours and I hadn’t seen anyone pass by, but the idea of being pushed out into the late summer heat wearing that shirt was not terribly appealing. I glanced around. Nothing but trees. I took a moment to count my blessings. We could have been in a mall parking lot.
“Here’s the bottom,” Julie said, flicking the next piece of material at me. I dropped the shirt and held up the skirt. It was a skirt, without a doubt, and if the shirt was indecently worn, the skirt should have been chopped up into rags. In fact, it looked like someone had already started. There was a jagged line, obviously cut by shears, that ran up from the hem to the waistband, and only the fact that it was about three inches to the right of my center line kept it from being explicit.
“Isn’t it cute?” Declared my chocolate haired mistress with undisguised glee. “Trust me, you’ll be thanking me in a little bit.”
My voice was sullen and unhappy. “I will?” I muttered.
She nodded. “Now get out of the car and change.”
That made me blink. “What? Here?” I demanded. Again I glanced around. Small parking lot. Woods. No people. Still, anyone could come along..
Julie smiled. “It doesn’t appear anyone is around, does it? We’re in the woods. Kids are in school. I took a day off to do this to you. So get out, get naked, pass your clothes in to me, and if I feel magnanimous, I’ll give you the new outfit.”
I gave her a dangerous look. “Are you feeling magnanimous?”
She grinned. “Strip and find out.”
“Or I could just sit here in the car all grumpy like,” I said, crossing my arms.
She leaned toward me. “Oh please. Don’t even try it. You want this. Or at least the fucked up part of your brain does.”
“Yeah,” I snorted. “But the rest of me is saying ‘hell no!’ And I should probably listen to myself.”
Julie sighed. “I want you to take a moment and imagine yourself sitting on the Full Bore Machine,” she said softly.
Ugh… I didn’t have to imagine it. I could remember it. Two thick dildos, each mounted to separate motors, sticking up through the top of a stool frame with no seat. Did I mention the motors were overpowered?
“Now imagine me putting the TENS Unit pads on your nipples and clit,” Julie continued, describing the electrostim tabs used by one of the trans-cutaneous electrical nerve stimulators that Julie owned. “We can start everything off at level one, then turn the Full Bore to high. Then every time you beg for relief from the pounding I’ll turn up the electricity in exchange for ten minutes of peace. Then the full bore goes back on, full throttle. I’m curious to know what level of electricity is sufficiently painful to force you to take the full bore fucking for an hour.”
I blanched. The full bore machine was a pair of dildos that stuck up out of a stool frame mounted to a pair of high powered electric motors. “Well, that’s certainly explicit,” I muttered.
“Are you going to strip?” Julie asked, suddenly cross.
I let out an exasperated sigh and pushed the door open. I climbed out, my flip flops smacking on the concrete parking surface. I took a few steps around the vehicle to the front. Glancing around, I decided to get it done and over with as fast as possible. That way I’d limit the amount of time I was standing around naked.
My tee shirt went first, followed by my bra. My bare breasts were creamy white except for where the gold piercing penetrated my right nipple, not to mention the small padlock that dangled from the hoop jewelry. Then, with one arm positioned carefully across my bosom, I did my best to shimmy out of the shorts I was wearing.
“Hey, can you hurry it up please?” Julie said, half leaning out the window. “I want you naked.”
I hissed at her, once again glancing around frantically. Nope. Still alone. But you never knew when someone was going to come running around the corner. I glared at her but managed to hook my thumb through both my panties and the shorts and push them down off my ass. They fell to my feet and a moment later I stepped out of them, totally naked from the top down.
“Good,” my mistress declared. “Now hand them over.”
I bit my lip. This was the stupid part. What if someone showed up? Carefully I bent down, my thighs tightly pressed together, my arm still covering my bosom. I gathered it all up, the shirt, the panties, the shorts, and then passed them through the window. Julie took them, wadded them up into a ball, then tossed them in the back seat. I didn’t like that. I had absolutely no recourse now. It would take Julie a full minute to get my clothes and hand them to me.
“Now,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Let’s see. Okay. To get the shirt you’ll need to do the chicken dance.”
I blinked. Then I stared at her. Naked.
“Well?” she asked innocently.
“The chicken dance?” I repeated stupidly.
She smiled, white teeth gleaming. “Yeah. Put your hands under your arms, flap your elbows while hopping up and down and cluck like a chicken. I want to see your tits bounce.”
My face went white, though whether with rage or total terror I have no idea.
“I will not…” I spluttered. “Cluck like a chicken!”
Julie shrugged. “Okay. Naked works for me.” She leaned forward and looked down the trail. “Hey, is that a runner?”
I jerked and tried to cover myself even more as I hurriedly glanced over my shoulder.
“Oh. Nope. Sorry. My bad. Just a tree,” she said apologetically. “Still, you know someone is going to come eventually.”
We stared at each other, a battle of wills. Then I lost. I bit my bottom lip, jammed my hands into my armpits, exposed the entire front of my body to her, then began flapping my arms.
“Cluck,” I whined. “Cluck, cluck, cluck…”
“Don’t forget to hop,” Julie warned me.
“Cluck, cluck,” I said frantically, hopping up and down. My flip flops snapped up, smacking the bottoms of my feet loudly. I must have looked absurd. Strike that. I know I looked absurd.
Julie grinned appreciatively. “Oh… that’s very nice. Look at you. More hop though. I want to see your boobs shake.”
If looks could kill Julie would have been dead.
She kept me dancing for almost a full minute but it felt longer, ages in fact, and she ended my extreme humiliation by tossing the white shirt at me. I caught it, barely, and in a frantic rush yanked it down over my head. I was right. It was too big for me. The neckline was just below my nipples and it was actually the shoulder bands that covered up my breasts. It sort of reminded me of Mylie Cyrus’s metal outfit, with just the bands covering her boobs. I was doing almost the exact same thing, except with a sleeveless shirt normally called a wife beater.
And I have bigger boobs than Mylie.
But there was good news. The shirt was so big it came down well past my hips. In fact, it covered my loins completely, like a little dress. I wasn’t the only one to notice. Julie stared at me, her head cocked to the side.
“Well, we don’t need these,” she muttered in disappointment, tossing the skirt into the back seat with the rest of my clothes.
I still protested. Julie ignored me, then reached behind her and brought out the small little cooler.
I had wondered what was in the cooler from the moment we had left the apartment. She hadn’t said anything and I figured I’d find out soon enough. So I hadn’t mentioned it. Now I watched as she opened it. I saw ice. Lots of ice, and the thing smoked.
“Is that… dry ice?” I asked worriedly. My fingers were locked on the hem of the shirt, tugging it down as far as possible, which of course just made the situation with the shoulder straps over my boobs that much more obvious. My chest was practically falling out of the shirt. In fact, it did. I had to tuck myself back in, positioning the straps strategically.
Julie poured some of the ice out and I noticed two plastic baggies. She fished the first one out and handed it to me. I held it up gingerly, between pinched fingers, and studied the thing inside.
It was hard as a rock, solid, but seemed to be made of some sort of white substance I couldn’t identify. Clearly it had been sculpted and cut and the shape did not leave me feeling good. It was about four inches long and looked suspiciously like a butt plug.
“What is this?” I asked cautiously.
“It goes in your ass,” Julie said firmly.
I lowered the bag and looked at her. “I didn’t ask where it goes. I asked what it is.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry. It’s made of a substance that is safe and will not burn.”
I looked at the white stuff. “So it’s not frozen IcyHot?” I asked.
Julie snorted. “Hardly. That stuff isn’t safe for internal use.”
I bit my lip. “What should I use as lubricant?” I asked.
At that Julie grinned. “Trust me. You won’t need any.”
So with a deep breath I opened the bag and reached in. In less than a second I understood what she meant. The object was cold, but it was slick and slippery as well, as if it were made of soap. I rubbed my fingers together and a thin, oily substance spread across my skin, glistening. Finally I just bit the bullet, plucked the thing out and glared at Julie again.
“Yep!” She said wickedly. “In your ass. So just lift that shirt up a bit and get that thing in your tush.”
“It doesn’t have a lip,” I protested.
“Don’t worry. Just push the whole thing in. Quickly. Before it melts.”
Melts. Oh crap.
I cupped the thing in my palm and reached behind me as if I were wiping my ass. Putting things in your own bottom is not an elegant sport. It looks damned awkward, feels worse, and is beyond faintly embarrassing. I was frantically worried that a jogger was about to show up as I twisted myself in half, one hand on the hood of Julie’s car, pushing an object the size of a fucking egg into my bottom.
It took a bit of mental discipline to manage it but I got there about a minute later. As Julie promised it went in deep and ease, but left my hand a greasy mess. The cold inside me immediately started to sear my depths and I couldn’t help squeezing. Then I felt a trickle of fluid. I held out my hand to her, showing the oily residue.
“What is this stuff?”
Julie smiled. “Stuff to be wiped on your body.”
“Excuse me?” I stammered.
“I’d start with your tits. Rub it all over them. And if you need more you know where to get it,” she said with an humiliating tone. I just stood there, dismayed.
“Well? Why aren’t you rubbing your boobs? Do you need an engraved invitation or something?” She demanded.
I slowly looked at my hand. It seemed wet, as if I’d poured olive oil on it. I stared at her. “Julie,” I said, trying to sound patient and rational when I really wasn’t. “If I rub this on my breasts it will soak the shirt.”
“Really? Well, isn’t that nice. Now rub.”
I closed my eyes. Whatever it was that she had forced me to shove up my ass was warming rapidly. I could tell. It was beginning to seep from my crack, down the insides of my thighs. I pulled the shirt out as far away from my bosom as I could, and then began smearing the oil over my bosom. It smeared easily, coating my skin. It smelled faintly of coconut.
It also felt amazing.
Of course the second the shirt material touched my skin it began sticking, absorbing up some of the oily substance. I had to put my hand down between my legs again, scooping up another handful of the humiliating fluid leaking out of my ass. It actually pooled in the palm of my hand.
“Oh yeah. Do the other breast sweetling. And your chest. Your whole chest. I love how you glisten!” Julie cooed. “Arms too!”
“My God! What is this!” I exclaimed as runs went down my legs all the way to my flip flops. I put my knees together to stem the tide and all it did was smear the translucent oil across my legs. My thighs were slick and some of the oil actually squirted out of my ass when I tightened up again. I gasped, flushing crimson, but then hurriedly rubbing the oil into my bottom, lifting the hem of the shirt up to expose my rump. Oil seemed to be pouring out of my butt. I cupped my hand, scooping up the slickness and oiled my entire rump. That seemed the easiest thing to do, but then Julie encouraged me to rub it up and down my legs too. In moments I was bent over, the bottom half of my oiled and glistening butt hanging out under the shirt.
Julie was thrilled, watching with the delighted, eager, grin of a child on Christmas morning. I was scrambling, scooping up oil with both hands, awkward and sexual and totally going nuts, only to slap it underneath my clothing. My hands slid across my belly, along my back, everywhere I could touch. There was way more than I needed and within a minute the white cotton of the shirt had changed. Now it looked like I was competing in a wet tee shirt contest, except instead of pouring water on me…
“Coconut oil!” Julie declared. “It’s coconut oil! Master Fred wanted me to make a coconut oil dildo and make you masturbate with it.” She said.
I stood there aghast. My hair was matted with oil, my skin slick with it from the neck down. The pavement beneath me was splattered and the shirt had begun not only to bunch in revealing places, unable to handle coverage of my lower half, but also to turn transparent. My gold piercing and padlock? Yeah, well you could see them clear as day. The hard, aroused, pink tips? Totally. I might as well have been naked.
“That was not a dildo!” I said weakly to Julie, feeling the remnants of the frozen coconut oil suppository I’d put into my own butt.
Julie snapped her fingers. “Right! That was the anal plug. I’ve got the dildo here.” And she opened the cooler again and pulled out the second bag.
The frozen coconut dildo was at least six inches long and looked like it had been formed by pouring coconut oil into a condom. It froze creamy white with a tinge of yellow and Julie opened the bag and handed it over with a warm smile.
“I know that will be cold going in. Still, I think you’d be smart to try to cum before it softens too much.”
I held the frozen cock of fat. “Why?” I asked stupidly. “What happens if I don’t cum?”
She shrugged. “If you manage to cum we’re done. I’ll give you a towel out of the trunk, you can wrap up and then shower back at my place,” she said. “After I’ve hot waxed you, whipped it off, and then made intense and violent love to you.”
I admit that her hot little body pressed up against mine, even after getting hot waxed and whipped, sounded so amazing that I wanted to cum. But there was more to it. I could tell.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said as I took the frozen oil dildo and pressed the tip against my quivering clit. “What is the penalty for not cumming?” I asked again.
“If you don’t cum, you’ll not only need to get someone to fuck that cute little cunt of yours, but also someone to slide themselves in your well oiled ass.”
I grimaced. Anal sex. And considering where we were it was unlikely I could find a pair of gentlemen who would willingly do me at the same time. That meant remaining out here for an extended period. Uncomfortable. Yes… well… one orgasm cuming right up.
I jammed the cold dildo into my socket and groaned as the frozen temperatures seared my flesh. The only bonus was that I was wet, wet and oiled, and the long, thick dildo slid in like a hand in a glove. I stood there, raised up on the tips of my toes, my legs obscenely spread, in a fucking parking lot, standing between some trees and Julie’s car, ramming a frozen popsicle made of coconut oil into my pussy.
Between the cold, the slickness, my own heat, and my surroundings you can imagine how things went. I went nuts. Frisky. Excited. Moaning out loud. Oil seemed to pour from me, sliding down my legs, my hand, soaking the hem of the shirt so that it clung to my body in every which way. I threw my head back, so close I could feel it building, the pressure and need climbing! I knew I had to hurry because of the dildo. It was already half gone and was disappearing fast!
“Bre!” Hissed Julie. “Breanne!”
I opened my eyes, a dazed look in them and glanced at Julie. She wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were locked on something through the windshield and I turned, one hand still between my legs, pumping and….
Oh. Oh shit.
It was a jogger. Tall, dark, handsome, clearly serious due to his dark running shorts and shirt. His brow glistened and he was pumping just as surely as I was, except maybe not in the same way. I dragged my hand out from between my legs, shy of the orgasm as I ran my hands down my sides, trying to get the shirt down over my oil slicked loins.
I was… singularly ineffective.
Then he was in the parking lot, his eyes staring at me in wide disbelief. I looked down at myself. My right boob had completely fallen out of the shirt and the nipple shined with the slick covering of oil. My left tit was close to following it. The hem of the shirt was a ripple along my loins and considering what I’d just been doing, the very front was still pulled up in a wet “V” shape revealing everything. I felt a quiver of utter abject humiliation as my hands tried to force the shirt to cooperate. I manage to get both boobs back under the translucent white material, not that it mattered much. My sex? I had no idea. It was probably still on stage. The hem of the shirt was stuck to my skin. The jogger and I just sort of stared at each other.
“Is it gone?” Julie hissed from the window.
“What?” I stammered, tearing my eyes away from him and looking at her. “Who?”
“The dildo! Did it melt?”
I blinked. I couldn’t feel it anymore. Not really. I opened my mouth, but then settled for a nod. He was looking at me, breathing heavy. Things were clearly deteriorating.
“Well then, go on.” Julie said brightly. “Make sure he fucks your ass. Then find another one to do the front.” Suddenly she climbed out of the car. She gave the other runner a little wave and there seemed to be some sort of acknowledgement between the two. She did one or two little limbering stretches and then gave me a grin. “See you in a little bit!” she said, eyeing the trail.
“Julie!” I exclaimed in shock, darting forward. I started to grab hold of her, oily hands extended, but then realized she wouldn’t appreciate me staining her shirt. “Please! Don’t leave me here! Not dressed like this!” I pled. Julie just smiled.
“Oh honey. You look great. Now go say hello,” she pushed off, her foot coming down on the pavement. She turned and headed for the trail, right past the jogger who was still staring at me. As she passed him she slowed down. “Her name is Breanne and she’s a nympho humiliation pain slut,” Julie said with a warm smile. “She needs a good ass fucking and I can guarantee she’s already well oiled. Enjoy!”
His eyes widened, as did his smile and he looked back at me with new appreciation. I stood there, dripping, my entire body coated with oil. My clothing soaked and stuck to my skin. Julie laughed and then I watched as she disappeared down the trail. A second later the man came right on over to me.
“Hi,” he said softly. “Your friend mentioned you needed something?” he asked politely, obviously not wanting to be too specific, just in case the chocolate haired girl was wrong about the scantily clad redhead dripping with oil.
I licked my lips, the scent of warm coconut on hot skin filling the air. A non-stop flow of oil seemed to seep from my cleft, soaking my petals, slipping down my open thighs, coating me down to the soles of my feet. The shirt was a mess, clinging and rumpled, soaked to practical invisibility as it stuck to my flesh, every line, freckle, and curve visible. I was slipping in my freaking flip flops. I gave him one soft, sensual nod.
“Yes sir. I do need something,” I said and stepped closer. “Would you mind oiling me?” I begged softly, putting my thumb on the collar of the shirt, right between my breasts. I pulled down, stretching the material tight, making it slip, and my entire bosom, slick and glistening, fell out. He gave me an appreciative grin and both of his hands came up instantly. He grabbed hold of me, rubbing as I let out a groan of acute need. His thumbs grazed my nipples and I could see the intrigue in his eyes as he played with my piercing and the tiny padlock.
“And when you’re done there, I’ll need you to handle one other spot,” I whispered as his fingers squeezed and kneaded my breasts. I suddenly seemed to melt against him, smearing oil across his body. He evidently didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around me, his mouth finding mine. I could feel his manhood pressing up against my hip and then his fingers delved deep into my crack, spreading my buttocks. I whimpered as he pushed a knuckle into my ass. Then his entire finger went in so easily you’d think I’d been made for his hand. He pressed his mouth to my neck, licking up to my lobe. I guess coconut oil tastes good.
“So I heard.”
Then he took my hand and led me into the woods. A few minutes later, bent over a half fallen tree, the scent of fallen leaves and moss around me, I felt him move behind me, his hands on my hips, the oil slick between us. He pressed against me as I relaxed with him, pressing and pushing, opening me up, a look of strained rapture on my face. I gasped as he entered, groaning as my body accepted the intrusion, pumping, straining, trembling until finally, in oil slicked copulation, he came.
Two hours later…
I stumbled out of the woods, my hair stained and lank. Leaves and bits of debris coated my skin and the remnants of my shirt were wrapped around my waist. Dirt coated one entire side of me, dark and saturated with oil. I was beyond filthy. There were a few abrasions on my backside as well, spots that been rubbed just a little raw from some of the forest detritus I’d been forced to lay on.
Julie walked beside me, a dazed and satisfied look on her face. Her clothing was rumbled and oily, though it certainly had survived better than mine. She took a quick step closer and her fingers interlaced with mine. The grin that flashed across her face was bright.
“You,” she said intensely as we headed for her car, “are fucking amazing.”
I sighed. I was tired. And embarrassed. Our car was the only one in the lot. At that point, I didn’t seem to really care that both my boobs were hanging out, or that my ass wasn’t covered by the shirt, or the fact that my well creamed pussy was in full view. I just felt… dirty. I wanted a shower.
Julie popped the trunk and came out with a pool towel large enough to have wrapped around both of us. I took it gratefully and pulled it around myself. The sense of exposure faded and I climbed into the front seat with her, not bothering to buckle up as she put the car in gear.
“I have to ask,” I said quietly. “Was that a set up?”
Julie laughed. “Why do you ask?”
I shrugged. “It just seemed… unlikely. And you coming back like that, just as that first guy finished? And with the other man?”
“Bill,” Julie supplied.
“You know his name?” I asked, one eyebrow going up.
She shrugged. “I asked.”
Julie sighed. “Breanne, does it really matter? If this was all spontaneous, then you did great. You embarrassed yourself thoroughly, got fucked up both holes, sucked two cocks and one very swollen clit,” her face flushed slightly at that. “And behaved perfectly for a wanton slut, naked and oiled in the woods.”
Then she gave me a soft smile. “And if this was a set-up, it’s because the person who set it up loves you so much that she wanted to create the sensation that it was totally spontaneous, while being mindful that your personal safety, and hers, is of paramount importance.”
I blinked. I hadn’t considered that. It would explain why her “run” lasted less than fifteen minutes. Had she been just out of sight, listening? Or maybe even watching that first guy impale my bottom?
I put a hand on her leg. Her thigh was glistening, slick with oil and I traced a little heart across her skin. She patted my hand.
“I need a shower,” I said simply.
She laughed. “We were energetic. Sorry about that. And yes, you do.” She reached over, putting her hand right between my legs. Her fingers slid into the soft cleft, slipping past my closed thighs, brushing the bruised and swollen labia. I groaned as she pushed into me, two fingers delving deep and I groaned, opening my legs, the towel spreading. Despite the fact that I’d already had two orgasms, it felt amazing. I was ripening.
“And I think I’ll join you,” she said. “You’re in for a long, sexually frustrating, agonizing night.”
Breanne, you will be taken to a public place while wearing NHPS casual attire and given a pair of very special dildos made of frozen coconut oil. One needs to be inserted into your ass. The other into your pussy. You will immediately begin to masturbate with the oil dildo in your pussy. You MUST cum before the oil dildo melts, leaving your pussy a slick and slippery mess. After the dildos melt, spread the oil over your entire body, even if it means undressing. If you were successful in cuming you will find a stranger, male, who you will then beg to fuck your oiled cunt. If you were unsuccessful in cumming, you will find a stranger, male, who you will beg to fuck your well oiled ass, followed by a second stranger, who you will ask to fuck your oiled pussy. - Master Fred