Saturday, July 18, 2015

Text - Part Three

If you haven't read "Text - Part One" then I suggest you stop right now and click HERE. And if you're behind the times and haven't read "Part Two", then you should probably click HERE. Otherwise you'll be confused. And I wouldn't want that. Would you? - Bre

It took Julie about twenty minutes to reply and in the meanwhile I decided that eating was probably a good idea. It was slightly early for dinner, but I didn’t mind. I felt amazing. One orgasm, the cat toys, and the still tingly sensitivity of my sex made for some pretty good sensations. So even sitting at a table while the three guys in the booth across from me watched with flushed faces as they kept catching glimpses of my bare slit under the skirt was just amusing.  The only thing that made dinner a bit more stressful was the way my phone chirped halfway through.

“Breanne, go to a building supply store. Edge yourself in the parking lot. Naked except for your bondage collar. Then get dressed again, go inside and purchase two mouse traps and a paint stir stick. Find someone to spank your breasts at least twenty times with the stick, then put the mouse traps on your nipples. Thank them with oral sex.”

The phrasing didn’t seem like Julie’s, which just reinforced my opinion that this whole thing had been concocted by someone else.  I wasn’t sure who. Master Brandon was probably a good choice, since he liked to incorporate a decent amount of pain into everything he has me do, but both Master Phil and Master Shadow both could have come up with something this deviant. I took a deep breath, imagining me edging, naked, and that just made me wet. I quickly finished my dinner, blew a kiss to my audience, and then headed out the door.

Twenty minutes later I was in front of one of those giant home improvement stores, parked in a back corner. It was still light out, with about an hour or so left of sun, so I felt pretty confidant about the edge. It only took a moment of squirming for me to peel the denim skirt off and sit bare bottomed on the seat. Then I followed up with the halter top, my breasts free, leaving me exposed and vulnerable to anyone who might have driven close or walked up. Just to make the psychological impact great, I tossed all the clothing on the floor of the cab in the passenger seat. Now if someone came up I’d have a mad, wet, naked scramble to get covered.

It was that concern that fueled the edge. The idea of being discovered, of someone seeing me, of getting involved, was so much better than just my fingers could have been. It revved me in ways that are tough to describe. I wanted to cum and got terribly close, imagining someone driving up, seeing me, wanting me, the utter humiliation of my spread legs, my open sex, my exposure. I got so close that I thought I was going to cum and I sat there trembling for almost two or three minutes, still naked, carefully not touching my tight nipples or tingling clit. Then I got dressed again, two of the three cat toys rolling inside me. That didn’t help either.

Julie hadn’t told me to take much time inside the store so I was able to go straight to it. I got a huge plastic paint stick which I thought would make a fine paddle and then plucked a package of heavy duty strength mousetraps of a shelf. Rat traps actually. Then, properly equipped, I went back out into the parking lot and considered my options, all while holding that paint stick.

Getting whacked across the breasts is a very iffy thing. Especially like this. BDSM, especially the sadism/masochism part, requires a certain level of respect, understanding, and trust. Going up to random strangers, handing them a plastic paddle that could inflict actual harm, and asking them to beat you is not smart. Sure. I could have done that. I could have probably even maintained some control. Or not. So like a smart NHPS, I decided to play it safe. A quick phone call made things clear and I headed back into my part of town. I pulled up in front of the low bungalow house, climbed out of the truck, and took my mousetraps and paint stick with me.

Mike the Hardware Guy answered on the second knock. Tall and built like a Houston Texan linebacker, Mike is the perfect handyman. He even has a beard. He’s as broad as a Mac Truck and I suspect as strong as one. Creative, funny, and very sexy, Mike is the kind of guy whose shoulder is easy to cry on, his arms are easy to have wrapped around you, and his cock is perfect to ride. He gave me an easy grin and I smelled barbecue sauce on him.

“Am I interrupting dinner?” I asked apologetically as I stepped into the house. Mike’s place is a bit spartan. There is the prerequisite altar to the technology gods, with a massive flat panel screen television set and a stereo system that can blow out your eardrums, but all of the furniture is comfortable and old. There are no plants except a bowl full of cactus I gave him that sits in the kitchen and survives on the three or four times a month I come over to water. The art on the walls is all contemporary and there are two or three peculiar blank spots, where a small, eight by ten photographs had once hung. Mike is a widower and while he’s mostly over her, I know that some nights it can weigh heavily on him.

She was a beauty. The photographs are tucked away in a closet. I’ve seen them.

As I passed him he shrugged. “No. Not really. Besides, it looks like I get delivery for dessert.”

I paused and looked back at him, then handed him the paint stick.  He accepted it with an inquisitive look, then studied it.  “Am I to presume you want me to use this upon your person?” He asked.

I snorted. If he wanted to be all haughty… “You may presume so. Across my bosom kind sir. Twenty strokes.”  

He looked pointedly at the mousetraps. Micetraps? Micetrap?  Whatever.  He looked at them with a half-raised eyebrow and I held them out.  “Accessories, for afterward.”

“Ouch.  What’s in it for me?”

I grinned. “Satisfaction?”

“I hope you mean sexual satisfaction, because while spanking your tits with this paint stick will be immensely satisfying, I’ll be honest and tell you that I’ll want more.”

I sighed, not that I minded. “I can offer you an insanely wet blowjob.”

He looked thoughtful. “That seems cheap compared to what you’re asking.”

I cringed. “Well I’m only allowed to offer that.”

He shrugged. “Explain to Julie your tormentor wanted more.”

“Like what?” I asked cautiously, considering my options. Going tangent to Julie’s plans generally ended up badly for me.

He paused and I could see the wheels turning. He didn’t want to screw up Julie’s orders either. “A cock massage, with oil and release, then the blowjob. Same ending.”

“Twice? Are you that horny?” It was my turn to be a little skeptical.

He laughed. “Are you that sexy?”  Then he shrugged. “And I’ll do the spanks in stages between, to draw it out.”

Ooohhh. Okay. Sign me up.

It turned out he was actually done with dinner and ready to start dessert so I went and gathered the things I needed as he stripped down and then sat in the center of the large sofa. I have a box of supplies at Mike’s place so I found my oil, the flavored kind I like, and quickly stripped out my clothes leaving only the black leather collar around my throat. Then I hurried back to find my lover ready for me, already stroking his cock. He was semi-hard, almost rigid in fact, and I knelt down in front of him looking exactly like the little sexy submissive I happen to be.

I got out the oil, poured a healthy amount on the tip and watched it run down the sides of his shaft like the frosting on a sweet roll. Then I put both hands on him and with deliberate, agonizing slowness, pushed downward. Mike’s eyelids fluttered and I let out a laugh. Then I got started with the handjob.

“So what’s the assignment today?” Mike asked as my palms slid up and down his shaft, gently rubbing. I wasn’t working too hard, knowing that he was going to pick up the paint stick beside him when he was getting close to cumming.  I relaxed into the massage and just concentrated on keeping him nice and firm, only slowly turning up the heat.

“It’s not technically an assignment,” I explained. “Julie’s been texting me these tasks. Lots of humiliation. A little pain. And I technically wasn’t supposed to cum.”

“Technically?” He asked, which I turned into a groan with a flutter of my fingers and topped with a twist.

I shrugged as his hips thrust upward. “Yep. I sort of accidentally had an orgasm when the last guy was hitting my clit with a crop.”

“Really,” Mike taunted. “How uncharacteristic of you.”

I gave him an exasperated sneer and focused on the edge of his tip, that really sensitive part for a moment until he let out a little groan and I went back to the slow, full-length strokes I know he favors. He moaned again and I saw his left hand move toward the stick. I immediately backed off but when he picked it up I knew it was too late.

“Present them, Bre.” 

I arched my back and put my oily hands under each breast, cupping and supporting them. Mike smiled and leaned forward. Then without another word he aimed the paint stick at my right nipple and gave me a series of five, hard spanks.

I gasped and flinched, but by the time I moved back he was already done. Five strokes. Instantly there was this tingling sting, the same sensation I get when my razor does too good a job on my legs and takes just a bit of skin with it. Then the sting hit me, like a wasp had just landed on my nipple and stuck that needle into my flesh a half dozen times. Then, before the last sting had even landed, the first turned into heat, flashing through me like an alcohol fire, burning me up. I let out a sharp gasp and grit my teeth, sucking in air as the pain hit me. 

“Now,” he said forcefully as I sucked air through my clenched teeth, “edge.”

I blinked. “Edge?” I said stupidly.

He nodded. “That’s right. Edge for me. Your hands are covered in oil so reach down between your legs, slip them inside that hot, cute little pussy of yours, and edge.”

I bit my lip. “I’m not supposed to cum,” I repeated. I put my hands back on his cock and began rubbing. 

Mike’s eyelids fluttered and then he shrugged. “So? I’m not telling you to cum. I’m telling you to edge. One hand in your pussy, the other around my cock.”  He laughed. “Tell you what. If you can make me cum before you have to back off, the rest of the spanking will be light and sweet, just the way you like it.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “What if I want it the dark way?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Then don’t rub me to orgasm. That simple. You’re talented enough to know what you’re doing.”  Then he put the stick down and laid back. I immediately began rubbing him again, but this time only used one hand since my left was now rubbing my own slit. God I was wet. Mike was right about how horny I was. Within a minute both of us were straining; both of us trying to hold back. For a moment I thought about it; making him cum, but then I decided that it sort of defeated the purpose Julie intended.  And I thought about giving in to my own baser needs too. Once more I held off, gasping and straining, desperate for that last inch. I sat back and Mike gave me a grin. 

“Very nice. Present your breasts again.”

My chest heaved with excitement and expectation as my pussy tried to crush the cat toys still rolling around inside me. I cupped both breasts, the right one still smarting and warm from the last spanking. As I kind of expected, Mike went for the left side this time, repeating everything. Five quick strokes, each one aimed with a flick at my nipple. The skin turned red, the tip of my breast raised and hard. I gasped and whined and then at the end he gave me a grin, put the stick down, and nodded.

“Good. Now edge again.”

My eyes widened. “What?” I exclaimed. “Are you crazy? I’ll cum for sure!” 

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t if I were you. You’d get punished.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m already going to get punished,” I muttered as I reached down between my legs and felt the wet, swollen nub already throbbing with pleasure.

Mike nodded. “But if you cum again the punishment will be worse than if you don’t cum again, correct?”

I nodded, my voice already catching in my throat. It had only been two minutes since my last edge. I hadn’t even backed away from the cliff yet and here he was, pushing me right back up to it. The physical was so amazing. I was so right there. Just twirling and skipping along the edge. A single breeze of anything even slightly erotic would knock me right off into oblivion.

“Of course, the interesting thing is that if you cum again right now, not only will you get punished by Julie, but you’ll get punished by me,” Mike said.

Boom. I fell.

The orgasm that rippled through me was a powerful one, probably thanks to the edging and paint stick boob spanking. Mike certainly liked it as I shuddered and moaned on my knees, one hand wrapped around his throbbing cock while the other churned, half buried between my spread thighs. We moved like that for a moment and then I looked up at him in dismay, realizing just a bit belatedly that I’d blown the sexual equivalent of a gasket.

“Nice,” he said, grinning. “Another few spanks I think. Present.”

I whimpered this time as I cupped my breasts, my fingers scented with the sweet tang of release.  Julie had said twenty strokes. I’d already had ten. Just ten more. Mike picked up the paint stick, set it back over the right nipple, and wiggled it around enough to make the piercing and padlock that dangled from the tip of that breast to jiggle. He diddled around for a moment and I tried to think ahead, to my next chance to put my hands on him. It occurred to me that if I at least got him to pop he’d give me a little bit of a break. The paint stick came back, then snapped forward. I heard the click of the plastic striking the gold hoop and charm-sized padlock, then a sharp sting exploded along my right side. I gasped as Mike whacked my breast another four times, leaving a swath of red tinged flesh striping me across the nipple.

I folded, hurting, arms crossed over my bosom as if that would either protect me or make the pain easier to endure. It did neither. Mike immediately grabbed my arms, hauled me upward, flung me around in a circle, and pulled me down into his lap. I could feel his cock hard against my bottom and then he pinned my arms behind me, reached around with his left hand to hold my body, and with his right, began spanking my breasts with the pain stick.

I felt the tip of his shaft dip into my pussy and even slide in a full inch, but I was just a bit occupied at that particular moment. My primary concern wasn’t the cat toys either. It was the blistering heat he was searing me with. The paint stick struck hard and sharp along my bosom, a flash point of heat and searing need. He pulled me backward as my body began to jerk, involuntarily responding to the beating my boobs were getting.

I cried out, yelling as my bosom burned and the paint stick just fell over and over. He didn’t stick to one side either. Not like before. He did both. I couldn’t get my hands free to cover my breasts and my chest exploded with heat. He suddenly spread his legs and wrapped his ankles around mine, pulling me open and spread. I could feel him thrusting, trying to get his cock into my stuffed pussy. I was strained to the breaking point, crying out with each impact of the stick and then he just brought it down between my legs. The first stroke hit my clit square and each proceeding one made it even more difficult to endure. I felt his cock jam upward and Mike grunted with frustration, threw the damn stick away, manhandled me around until I was facing him and then shoved me to the floor. My head literally bounced off his cock and his fingers grabbed hold of me and practically shoved me back down on his throbbing shaft. I opened wide and took him, hoping he’d let go and he did. That gave me the space and freedom I needed and ten seconds later he was thrusting and groaning and letting me give him what he really needed.


I downed my third shot of cum that day, swallowing quickly and firmly, using my throat and lips to massage his cock. I didn’t stop either. I kept going until he was so limp and relaxed that I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. And even then I put a hand to his scrotum, lightly caressing him until I finally felt that same little twinge of renewed strength. In poker terms I was just giving him a dollar. Never leave a man broke. Right?

“You okay?” He asked me a few minutes later. I looked down. I was going to have some magnificent bruises on my breasts, the kind that would certainly impress Julie. They still hurt too. My clit was swollen, but undamaged, just very, very sensitive.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I guess.” I climbed to my feet and he grabbed my hand, holding me there. I looked down at him curiously.

“Thank you,” he said honestly. “That was wonderful.”  

“You were supposed to cum twice,” I said, shaking my head. He laughed.

“Or one massive orgasm,” he explained. “I’m getting old, Bre. I’m not sure I can keep up with you in quantity, but I can sure as hell do quality.”

I couldn’t help smiling as I leaned over and kissed him. He gave me a satisfied hum, then pulled back. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He asked.

I blinked. Then groaned...


Go to a landscaping nursery. Edge yourself in the parking lot. Go inside and find someone to put the dangling vibrator clamp on your clit and turn it to low. Thank them with anal sex. Then walk around vibrating for thirty minutes.”

I sat in the car, my breathing labored, my fingers wet, both nipples throbbing. My skirt was up around my waist and my legs were spread, but in the gathering darkness that really didn’t matter. Even the mousetraps I had hanging off my breasts, covered with the cotton front of my halter top weren’t that noticeable, though I suppose up close they might have been an issue since the bottom third of each trap peeked out from the cut off bottom of the halter top. Mike hadn’t been too cruel putting them on. He could have set them and let them snap close. Instead he just pulled back against the spring and let the trap bar down gently so that the painful pressure came on sorta gradually.

I was so close to cumming though. That’s the problem with edging. The nursery itself was about five minutes away from closing and since I was in desperate straits I climbed out of the truck, smoothing my skirt down quickly as I wrapped one arm around my bosom and hurried in.  I didn’t bother with the main building, or the green house, and instead made my way to the rows of outside plants. The hot sticky heat of Houston’s summer was thick around me as I wandered. I knew exactly what I was looking for and I found it just a minute later, doing some last minute watering at the back.

“Hi,” I said, coming up behind the guy, one arm firmly wrapped across my breasts to hide the mousetraps. He jumped, clearly startled, and he turned and looked at me in shock.  He was tall, with dark shaggy hair and enough hair on his face to call him bearded. Sort of. It was kind of scraggly.  His dark blue shirt matched his pants and there was a name tag clipped to the front: Jeremy.

“Uh. Hi. Can I help you?”.

I gave him a smile, trying not to let the throbbing agony of my mousetrapped nipples show through. “You have no idea. I’m looking for something special.”

He grinned. “Well, you came to the right place, but we are about to close soon. What are you looking for?”

I shrugged a little, then pulled my right hand out of my purse.  For two weeks Julie had ordered me to keep something special with me at all times: specifically my jumbo alligator clamp. The problem was that she had attached something to it; a dangling vibrator. She’d pulled it off another clamp and done this frankenstein thing to it so that now if I turned it on it would vibrate right up into the monstrous steel jaws of the worst and most painful clamp I owned. It was this little horrible thing that I pulled out and showed to Jeremy.

“I need someone to put this on my clit,” I said simply. “And in exchange you can fuck me up the ass.”

Jeremy’s jaw came unhinged. I took the opportunity to let my left arm fall so he could see the mousetraps under the shirt. His eyes locked onto the familiar shapes, his brain clearly figuring out where they were attached and he suddenly glanced around crazily.  It took him only about five seconds to pull it together, then he suddenly put down the hose, stepped forward, and tugged me into the back of the lot.

We moved fast, which startled me, and I expected him to start immediately, but instead he looked around furtively and then sat me down on this iron bench.  “Wait here,” he insisted, then disappeared back down the rows.  I sighed, spread my legs, and began edging again. It was a way to pass the time. I let out a little whimper and felt the wetness spread.

It was almost a full fifteen minutes before Jeremy came back. Over half the lights had shut off a minute before, leaving me faintly worried that I was locked in, contemplating a mad scramble over a chain link fence to get out. I was thinking of going to find a ladder when Jeremy reappeared with a grin on his face.

“We’ve got the place to ourselves,” he said happily. I nodded, pulling my wet fingers out from between my legs.

Jeremy wasted no time and eagerly accepted the alligator clamp when I held it up. I climbed up onto the iron bench, perched delicately for a moment, one foot arched in my flip flop, and then pulled my shirt up and off my head. His eyes widened we he saw the mousetraps, but then I slid the skirt down and pointed to the right spot.  He pinched open the toothed monstrosity, placed it over the correct point, and then let it close.

Pain shot through me and I cried out, crumpling down into his arms. He held me for a moment and then I felt his hand go to my thighs, worming its way between them. His fingers found the vibrator and he switched it on and the pain I was feeling suddenly changed in timbre and pitch. Now it just wasn’t painful. It was arousing. Terribly, horribly, awfully arousing and I was already at a fever pitch. Our mouths suddenly met in a wet kiss and then he was pushing me down, onto my knees in the dirt, one hand already flicking a mousetrap as his other began unbuckling his pants. His cock came out and I eagerly swallowed it, sucking and licking him. I worked fast, knowing that another orgasm could easily come at any moment thanks to the sensations between my legs and my nipples. We jerked back and forth, his hips thrusting forward even as I bobbed my head.

“Please! Please fuck my ass!” I begged him a moment later. Jeremy’s face was all scrunched up and he nodded.

“Yes,” he growled. I stood up, one arm wiping at my mouth. He looked around, didn’t seem pleased, then grabbed my wrist and pulled me away, deeper into the maze of plants. I felt a few blades of pampas grass tear at my side as we half-ran and then a concrete bird bath stood in front of us. It was only a few feet tall and he pushed me forward and bent me over the empty basin. The mousetraps dangled beneath me, swinging violently and gravity’s pull just made them hurt more.

“Oh God yes,” he exclaimed. Then I felt the pressure of his cock against my ass. The cat balls rolled inside my pussy. My clit tingled from the vibrations and it throbbed from the pressure of the toothed clamp. Then Jeremy thrust himself deep, sending a sharp pain through my ass as seven inches of thick, hard, cock buried itself in my bottom.



Slowly I limped up the stairs to Julie’s apartment door. I was a mess. I was dirty in places I didn’t want to think about, scratched all along my right side, cut into slivers by an ill-timed brush with… brush, and hurting in ways that I didn’t want to think about. My halter top covered the mousetraps still dangling from my nipples, my collar was still tight around my throat, my pussy was still stuffed with cat toys, and my clitoris was still being chewed on by the jumbo alligator clamp. The only thing I’d been spared was the vibrations. I’d been allowed to turn them off.

I’d texted Julie when I was done and she’d only asked a single question. “Did you cum at all today?”

I had to be honest so I wrote “twice,” which was the absolute truth. Once with the crop and once at Mike’s place.  I waited in the truck, twitching. Finally she texted me back.

“If you had managed to hold off, your instructions would have been to head home, put the most painful clamps you own on your nipples and clit, and masturbate to orgasm five times in an hour.”

I literally stopped breathing. If that was the reward for being good, what the hell was she planning for me being bad?  I shifted painfully in the seat. I waited.

“But since you couldn’t hold off like you were told to, come to my place.”

I knocked on her door, tired, hurt, aroused, and wanting. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or scream or beg. She opened the door dressed in a black negligee that left nothing to the imagination and she pulled me in with a soft, warm smile. I let her. I needed that. She wrapped her arms around me, ignoring the dirt, the ragged appearance, my tension, all of it, and held me.

“Am I going to be punished?” I whispered a moment later as she rocked me back and forth.

“Not tonight dearheart. Today was the punishment,” she whispered. I let out a gasp of relief and shuddered against her. She stroked my hair. “But tomorrow?  Tomorrow there might just be a punishment.”

I swallowed and looked up at her again. “When? What?” I asked, half in dread, half in desire.  She laughed, then kissed me lightly. When her mouth came up again she spoke in sweet words.

“I’ll text you.”

Leave the toy of the day in until after lunch, then remove it and do not put anything back in. Change into a tight, thin midriff bearing tank top or camisole, a low rider mini skirt, comfortable heels and your slave collar.

At no time are you allowed to cum during this assignment.

Objective 1) Drive to a pet store. Once you’ve parked, edge yourself. Go inside and walk around for at least thirty minutes then purchase three of the balls with the bells in them from the cat toy section. Find someone to put all three in your pussy. Thank them with oral sex.

Objective 2) Go to a horse supply store that you haven’t been to before. Edge yourself in the parking lot. Go inside and walk around for at least thirty minutes. Find one of the sales associates and tell them you’re interested in purchasing a riding crop but you need to test it first. Ask them to spank your sex at least twenty five times with the crop. If it doesn’t sting, it doesn’t count. Thank them for assisting you with oral sex.

Objective 3) Go to a building supply store such as Lowe’s or Home Depot. Edge yourself in the parking lot. Go inside and purchase two mouse traps and a paint stir stick. Find someone to spank your breasts at least twenty five times with the stick, then put the mouse traps on your nipples. Thank them with oral sex.

Objective 4) Go to a landscaping nursery. Edge yourself in the parking lot. Go inside and walk around for at least thirty minutes then find someone to put the dangling vibrator clamp on your clit and turn it to low. Thank them with anal sex.

If you have been able to refrain from climaxing, go home, strip naked and remove the mouse traps, balls and clamps. Put on your most vicious nipple clamps and make yourself climax at least five times in the next hour with your most powerful vibrator.

If you have not been able to refrain from climaxing, or you cannot manage five orgasms in an hour, go immediately to Julie’s for you punishment.

When ever you are in a store, bend over as much as possible and flash as many people as possible. If anyone asks you any questions about your attire or what you are doing, tell them how much of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut you are and describe your assignment in as much detail as possible.

I hope you have fun with this assignment

Master Phil


Friday, July 17, 2015

Text - Part Two

If you haven't read "Text - Part One" then I suggest you stop right now and click HERE. Otherwise you'll be confused. And I wouldn't want that. Would you? - Bre

“Now go to a horse supply store that you’ve never been to before. Edge yourself in the parking lot. Then go inside, browse for thirty minutes, then ask an associate for help in finding a riding crop. Select an appropriate crop, but ask the associate for help in ‘testing’ it. Ask them to spank your sex twenty-five times with the crop. If it doesn’t sting, the swat doesn’t count. Thank them for assisting you with oral sex.”

I stared at the text message, realizing that this must have all been prepared in advance. No way was Julie just coming up with this in a heartbeat. A horse supply store? No one referred to a Saddlery that way, at least not in Texas. And that was the only place I’d be able to find a crop. The local feed stores wouldn’t have one. Of course finding a Saddlery I hadn’t been to before would be the easy part.  I just needed to drive a bit… stuffed to the brim with three plastic balls that were every bit as distracting as my ben wa balls had been.

I headed toward Houston. There’s a saddlery just outside the Beltway I’d never been in but had seen any number of times. I figured that was as good a place as any. So about twenty minutes later I was parked in an entirely too small parking lot, halfway between a still teeming Starbucks Coffee and a donut shop.  I left the engine and air conditioner running as I slipped my hand beneath my skirt and for the second time that day began the torturous process of edging.

It wasn’t easy. The cat toys… uh… pussy toys… were a distinct distraction. I could feel them moving and hear the little bells. My clit was swollen and wanting, and I was seeping juice. My chest heaved as I worked my fingers up and down through the soft petals, over my clitoris, and with the knowledge that I was going to shortly be purchasing a crop, which would then be forcefully applied to that very spot, it wasn’t long before I was trembling with need, totally close to losing it. Only the fear of being a spectacle kept me from just blowing a gasket and letting it happen. I was so close… right there on the edge when I pulled my fingers out and locked the truck. I wiped the excess off on my skirt, but I could feel the trickle on my thighs, each step ringing lightly as I went into the saddlery.

It wasn’t a big place but it was a nice one. I’m not sure if Houston is a typical Texas city, since I’ve only been to Dallas once and San Antonio twice, and neither time was to go saddle shopping, but I have to admit that in Houston we’ve got great saddleries. This one was really nice.  It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for and once I’d plucked a Roma gel handle from a stand, testing it for flexibility and strength, I went looking for an associate. I knew I had thirty minutes or so to kill per Julie’s instructions. This time I was in luck. One of the young men keeping an eye on things in the store was also definitely keeping an eye on me. I made sure to smile at him a number of times, the crop in my hand, and finally when the time and certain other things were ripe, I sidled up to him in a back aisle, a wicked and naughty smile on my face.

“Hi, can I help you?” he asked me graciously.

I nodded. “Just wondering about this,” I said, holding out the crop. “Do you think it will sting?”  He took it from my hand and I have to admit, he looked good holding it. 

He gave it a little practice swish and then laughed. “No, not really. I mean the idea is just to get the horse’s attention right? As long as you aren’t trying to hurt him deliberately, you’ll be just fine,” he replied. He held out the crop, clearly intending to give it back to me. I ignored it. I shook my head and took a step closer. If he was paying attention to my body, he’d have seen the swish of my hips, the coquettish tilt of my head, the lowered lids. 

“I’m still worried about it. I’d be scared to use it without knowing for sure.”  The words came out of my mouth smoothly, but I was about as nervous as I’d been with Dana at the pet store. I was also wondering what he thought about my collar.  It wasn’t a choker. It was a collar. A bondage collar. A real one. He was sure looking at it and then he looked back at the crop. A connection perhaps?

“I’ve got to know,” I said more seriously. “Would you mind?” I asked and then half turned, presenting my denim clad rump.  His eyes widened.

“Are you serious?” 

I shrugged, my bottom still presented sweetly. “You said it wouldn’t hurt,” I replied.

He glanced around the store, making sure no one was in immediate sight, or possibly to see if there was help. I’m not sure. Then he looked back at me. “It isn’t right,” he whispered.

I grinned and gave him a little wiggle.  “I can’t buy it unless I know it’s safe to use,” I said seriously. “Go on. Just one little whack? Or do you need to see skin?” And with that I used both hands to haul up the back of my skirt. I wasn’t wearing panties and immediately he got a perfect view of my derriere. I gave him another wicked smile and then swung my hips. “Just one?” I pleaded.

He looked uncomfortable, gave another glance around, but then lifted the crop. He gave my bare bottom a light tap and I let out an exaggerated gasp.  

“Mmmm,” I hummed, half closing my eyes. “That actually felt good,” I said softly.  His eyes widened.  “Can I have another one?”  I tilted my hips again and bent over even more, presenting much more. If he bent over he’d get to see the wet petals of my sex too. After another almost panicked glance around the store he set the leather flap of the crop against my cheek and then with another flick of his wrist struck me with a little more heat. The sound of the crop striking my bottom was soft and just a bit muffled, but I moaned softly again and then gave him another really wicked look.

“You’re right. It doesn’t really hurt,” I whispered, taking another step closer. “But what if I want it to hurt?” I asked urgently as I straightened and faced him square on.

“I...I’m not sure what you mean,” he stammered as my fingers found the front of my skirt. I drew up the hem. His eyes widened in alarm as his gaze locked onto the little swollen nub of my clit. 

“You know where I’d like the next one?” I asked, licking my lips. “And I hope it stings,” I said softly, my left hand coming out and cupping his crotch. He tried to pull away but I already had him up against a stand. I gave his throbbing cock a good stroke. “And if you do a good job I’ll give you a blowjob that will leave you satisfied for a week,” I promised.

The crop twitched in his hand. He glanced around again. “We can’t!” he hissed. “Not here!” 

I looked around. He was sort of right. The store was too small. There were two customers wandering the store beside me and one other associate that I knew about. There could have been more. And the aisles weren’t exactly set up for privacy. I gave him a sly look and licked my lips. “When do you get a break? Or get off?” I asked him.

He blinked, then glanced at his watch. “Uh, another forty minute or so I guess.”  It came out a little high pitched. I have that effect on some people.

I laughed and took the crop back from him. “Forty minutes. In the alley behind the store,” I said darkly. “And because of the delay you’ll have to give me a full twenty-five swats with this,” I said, returning the crop to him. “Don’t forget it or no nooky for you,” I continued sweetly. Then I dropped the front of my skirt and turned, slowly of course, and did this erotic, hip wiggling walk, down the aisle. 

I cooled my heels in the store for another twenty minutes and I have to be honest - I actually thought about buying a few things - honest cowgirl stuff, but then decided against it. I didn’t have cash and the idea of leaving a paper trail (other than the one I’m writing!) wasn’t very smart. Then I went over to the Starbucks, got a tazo chai latte, sat down and tried to ignore the three little cat toy balls inside me. 

In some ways they were worse than the ben wa balls. Part of the problem was that they were hollow, so all the juice seemed to pour right in. That muted the bells, thank God, but it made the intensity of their movement a little more difficult to deal with than the ben wa balls. They were also slightly bigger, and that makes a big difference. Eventually though it was time. I had five minutes to spare, so I grabbed my cup, slipped out into the heat, and calmly, quietly, patiently, rounded the far side of the building and made my way through the empty but quite public, exposed but quite secluded alley. As long as the trash wasn’t picked up I knew we’d be uninterrupted.

For a minute I thought I was going to be stood up but then he rounded the corner of the building. From the look in his eyes I knew he was shocked to see me. He was carrying the crop, but in a hap-hazard way, as if he didn’t expect to use it. His eyes widened as he caught sight of me and then his pace picked up. I leaned back against the wall and watched him, a naughty smile on my face.

“Hi,” I said, scrumptiously.

He swallowed nervously. “Hi.”

“You ready to show me the right way to use that thing?” I asked him, my hands going down to my skirt and pulling it up just an inch or two. It wasn’t enough to flash him, but it almost was. His eyes went straight for my sex, as if he could see through the material of my skirt. The crop twitched and came up slightly and I took a step, but not forward. To the side, spreading my legs apart indecently. My skirt rode up slightly and I saw him lick his lips. It wasn’t conscious. He did it instinctively.  That was exactly what I wanted.

“Twenty-five strokes,” I said as I pulled the material up to my waist, bearing the wet and pink petals of my sex. “Hard enough to sting or they don’t count,” I reminded him.

He glanced up at my face. “How do I know if they sting?” He asked. I grinned.

“If I hiss or cry out, they stung,” I assured him. “If I shake my head you’ll have to do it again or I won’t suck your cock.”

He gave me a bewildered look. “Why? Why do you want this?” He asked, obviously confused. He shook the crop.

I shrugged. “I like it. And I like you. Now hit me.”

He took a deep breath, stepped within striking distance and then brought the crop up between my legs with a light, underhand stroke. The leather tip slapped my petals, but so softly that I didn’t even make a sound. My eyebrow went up and I gave him a look of incredulity that spoke volumes.

He coughed in embarrassment. “Sorry. Just testing the distance. I don’t really want to hurt you.”

I rolled my hips. “Well I want it to hurt a little. I like it. It makes me so wet. So please? Can you please crop me?”

Evidently my wheedling little girl voice was exactly what he needed because he flicked his wrist and the crop swung up again. This time it moved much faster and while I could have taken a much worse swing, he at least elicited a little hiss from me. I rose up on tiptoe too for a second, the perfect arches of my flip flop clad feet exposed, then dropped down, my pussy tightening rhythmically around the cat toys inside me. He seemed to like the effect. My hips rolled, my pubis pushed out and maybe he noticed the fact that I was dripping with excitement. I have no idea.

“That was nice, but only barely. A little harder,” I said to him, my eyes burning. I pushed my knees outward, went back up on tip toe as I leaned against the brick wall behind me, and then watched with excitement as the crop twitched again. It struck me, sort of to the left, burning along one petals and missing my clitoris. Still, it was a much better hit. I let out a little yelp and jumped. Then as the sting faded into heat I let out a low moan that was so filled with sexual lust it probably left no doubt in this young man’s mind that I was loving every perverted, sick, masochistic second of what he was doing to me. I came back down a bit, but made it very obvious I wanted another one.

He obliged.

Tap. Swat. Tap. The crop swished up between my legs in this steady tempo of about six swats a minute. By the time we reached fifteen my hips were rolling and those cat toys were definitely a favorite of the pussy that owned them.  The leather head of the crop was wet and my tormentor was grinning as the petals of my sex darkened with each stroke. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. He never really hit me hard. It was a series of light stings, but the compounded interest just made me spiral upward into sexual nirvana. When we got to twenty I was panting and moaning, clearly getting close to exploding. He knew it. I was obviously getting off to what he was doing.

So he didn’t stop at twenty-five. And he increased his tempo. And hit me harder. That was all it took. I have no clue what stroke we were on when I cried out, cumming hard. Wetness spurted from between my legs onto the concrete. My entire body trembled and then one of the cat toys fell out as well, ringing wetly and rolling across the two feet of space between the boots of my tormentor who stared in open-mouthed surprise.

“Uh…” he said stupidly as I sort of just floated down in pure bliss. He bent over and picked up the gooey ball between two fingers. “You uh… dropped this.”

I laughed weakly and then grinned.  “Your turn,” I said taking and tossing the ball aside. It clattered and rang on the concrete, leaving dark wet spots. I grabbed his hand and pulled him closer into the building, right by the back garage door, and positioned him directly above the three layers of cardboard box I’d placed there when I’d arrived.  Then I went to my knees, my pussy still tingling, still tightening around the two cat toy spheres left, and freed his cock.

He was rock hard which I appreciated. It meant he liked me. So I did the very best job I could. I could even feel how close he was and so I deliberately held off, not wanting it to go too quick. I slurped and sucked and bobbed my head and caressed his balls until he finally couldn’t take the teasing any more and grabbed hold of my head, pushing himself deep. I swallowed, as much as I could. Then I took control again, pulling his fingers out of my hair and giving him what he wanted. I loved having his cock down my throat and I wished I had the guts to take him and ride him.  But doing that in an alley is not smart and besides, Julie had said oral. And that made riding him an impossibility.

Suddenly a spurt of white cream erupted in my mouth and I gagged for a second as I switched from sucking to swallowing. He continued to pump until he actually went soft and I stayed right there, cum dripping down my face, splattering down to my leg, drinking him down.  And then when he pulled away, soft and satisfied. I let out a sweet laugh, grabbed him by the balls gently, and pulled him back to my mouth. That’s also one of my tricks. The after explosion suck. I heartily recommend this to every girl. Once you’ve made him pop, suck on him again. He will love the feel of it. He isn’t sensitive like you are and work him until you begin to feel him throb or stiffen, ever so slightly.  That’s the key. You don’t want to make him hard again, unless you do, so leave him charged but not wanting. That’s important.

“Wow,” he whispered, still stunned as I finally pulled back and licked my lips. I gave him one of those smiles that generally melts icebergs and then rose up on tip toe to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thanks,” I told him. “That was really fun.”  Then without another word I started walking.  He blinked wildly, then struggled to get his junk all tucked back in, and caught up with me a few seconds later.

“Hey! Wait! I mean wait!” He said as he ran up to my side. I smiled at him again. He held the crop in his hand. “You just can’t walk away from a guy like that!”

“I can’t?” I asked him with a raised eyebrow. “Of course I can.”

“Uh… we just made love.”

“No. We had sex. And not even proper sex,” I said. I didn’t turn along the edge of the building and instead walked out into the parking lot, heading for my truck. It was getting late in the afternoon and I needed to get a move on. 

“But... “ he stammered, not understanding. Instead he followed me to my truck like a lost puppy.

“I don’t understand,” he said, obviously hurt. I sighed.

“What we did was a one time thing, okay?” I replied as I climbed into my truck.

“But what if I want to see you again?”

I grinned. “Look for a redhead,” I said, then I grinned. “And keep the crop. You’ll need it.”  He frowned, clearly not happy.  So I leaned forward and beckoned with a single finger, then whispered my email address in his ear.

The smile on his face was so big I thought his head was going to split. He waved the crop at me and stepped back, clearly ready to let me go. I drove away, then turned into a nearby parking lot, pulled out my phone and texted Julie.

“I’m done." 

Don't worry... more is coming!