So the challenge is simple. Despite the day I've had, I've been told to see if I can masturbate myself through five orgasms tonight, between 9:30pm and Midnight, with the goal to see if I can have more than that. Hmmmmm...
I'll probably be logged in on yahoo too. Keep an eye on my tweets or stop by and say hi! - Bre
Thursday, October 9, 2014
If you haven't read Part One or Part Two, you really should do that first. Don't ya think?
I tried to shut the door quietly, but Ford F-150’s aren’t the kind of vehicle you can do anything quietly in. I looked up at the farm house. The place was dark and quiet and I could sense that everyone inside was asleep. That was a good thing. It was already eleven o’clock and it meant that no one would be waiting up. Even the living room window was dark, meaning my dad wasn’t in his easy chair with the television on.
Gingerly I stepped over to the barn. I wasn’t wearing any clothes, nor did I have any in the barn or truck. Isobel, in a fit of pique at my response to her request that I provide her a rimjob had kindly ordered me to leave naked and drive home unattired. Kari hadn’t objected, mostly because I think she was embarrassed at the way I refused Isobel’s order, rather than the order itself. In any event, wearing only the RVP (which I’d just turned on again), wrist cuffs, and my high heels, I stepped over to the barn door and went in.
Turning on the lights, I surveyed my surroundings. The barn was about sixty feet long, two levels in some places, and housed stalls for about fifteen horses (though only four were occupied), a half pen for pigs, and a sort of workshop/tractor housing in the back right hand corner. It’s also where we kept the rope locker.
I wrapped my arms around my welted breasts, wincing as the lingering pain of Sara’s caning seeped up through me. I’d be sporting the marks for days, each one set in place with a thin, wooden rod she’d brought. My ass was also vibrating, stuffed thoroughly with my Titanmen Vibrating Inflatable Wonder Plug, a massive toy that was not combining well with the RVP. Or should I say, it was combining too well? I was on the verge of another orgasm, which meant I needed to get a move on.
I winced as I walked across the floor. My breasts weren’t the only parts of me caned. Over the reddish soreness of the rubber band snaps were twenty more darker lines, placed there by Isobel with Sara’s cane. As if heels weren’t hard enough, or painful enough to walk in, now the soles of my feet felt like I’d had them branded.
I made it to the rope locker and dug around for a few minutes. Eventually I found the knotted rope and pulled it out. It was almost a half inch thick line, the knots heavy and spaced every eight to twelve inches. I also grabbed the strap winch and hook and then hobbled to the back wall. It didn’t take me long to get the rope attached, level with my belly button, dragging it heavily across the barn. I made it to the other end and hooked it in place, only then starting the heavy cranking needed to force the rope into a taut line.
There wasn’t much play in the rope and for the second time that evening I took off the RVP. The relief of having the tumbling, twirling, terrible torment stop was almost worth what I was about to do to my clit. Of course the first time I’d removed the RVP that evening, I’d been lying naked on the floor of Kari’s living room, my legs spread and held open by Alissa and Madeline, while Kari straddled my chest, her fingers gripping the small leather sap. I’d been tingling already, so close to orgasm that my petals glistened with moisture. Kari laid the soft leather down on my folds and I jumped, only to feel her pull back and leave a sharp stroke on the wet and tender bits of my sex. My clitoris, swollen and red, felt scaled by the blow and I cried out, bucking, my bottom coming up off the floor. Kari hit me again and Alissa had to shift her grip on my foot. I started shuddering as the hammer like blows fell, my sex flattening, mashed into a soaked pulp. My hips rolled, meeting the sap, kissing it with desperation and Kari counted out loud, working me into a froth.
It was hard not to remember that moment as the hemp line bit into my sex, rubbing its way through my folds and cutting into my clitoris. The first knot was only inches away and I plucked the two alligator clamps from off the wrist cuffs, where I’d attached them earlier. Taking a deep breath, I set both metal vices at the tips of my breasts, letting them bite down as I gasped in pain. Then it was only a matter of two simple clips to secure my wrists to the opposite clamp. It meant I could still free myself, but it also prevented me from moving my arms too much, since any kind of pull resulted in shards of agony thanks to the nipple clamps. And it was also something of a timer. My arms would get heavy and not being able to drop them or swing them meant I needed to move fast across the rope or suffer the consequences.
I took the first step, already up on tiptoe, the soles of my caned and bare feet aching. The thick rope slid through my slit like a saw through wood, the scratchy and abrasive material scouring me. I hit the first knot, feeling the impact on my clit like another blow of the sap. Already my nipples were hurting, the weight of my arms tugging on the toothed monstrosities chewing on the tips of my breasts. I rocked my hips, the Titanmen Vibrating Inflatable Wonder Plug still providing a tenuous sexual connotation to my actions. I felt the knot against my clitoris, dragging along it, and then with a soft cry I was able to surmount it, feeling it scratch its way through my folds and pop into the opening of my sex, settling deep. Another forward step forced the knot outward and along my perineum, only to strike the bottom of the Titanmen Plug instead of chaffing my bottom. First time in my life I’ve ever been grateful to have a butt plug in my ass. Then I was past it. Another step, and another knot. The heat built up between my legs as I moved, step by agonizing step, my folds swelling, ripening, lubrication building up, trying to protect the delicate flesh. A line of perspiration crossed my brow and I felt the temperature of my loins rise as the burning started.
And suddenly I was back in Kari’s living room, the hot wax of the candle being dripped down on my sex, covering and coating me with a soft white glow. It stung of course, especially since I’d only recently taken the twenty strokes of the sap. Sure, the clover clamps and the NHPS jumping jacks spaced out the two torments, but it didn’t matter. I was being scorched and I knew it. Isobel stood nearby, her hand tightly gripping the flogger, since she had won the right to whip the melted paraffin from my loins. I cried out, twisting, but the two girls holding my legs were ready for it and kept me from moving out from under the burning shower. Up my torso the red drops fell upon my oiled skin until they found my breasts. Had Robert not been holding my arms I would have covered my nipples.
“That’s right, Breanne. Burn,” whispered Kari, holding the candle above me. The heat scalded me to the bone and then Kari stepped back and I looked down. Both breasts were dark red, but only from the covering of hot wax that Kari had poured upon my curves. Both nipples were completely covered, nothing but turgid bumps under a smooth and melted covering. The heat was incredible and I looked past my “wax bra” down my torso, I could see the line of paraffin splatter, ending in another mass of melted wax. My entire crotch was coated, hot and heavy, and I could tell that paraffin had actually seeped into my pussy. Isobel moved up between my outstretched knees and with a hungry expression of pure delight, she began swinging the whip. None of the strokes hit me until she snapped her arm forward and the full force of her blow impacted upon the wax covered sweetness of my sex.
The rope between my legs burned and I found another knot. My feet ached, far beyond what they should considering I’d barely made it a quarter of the way across my barn. In the back of my mind I knew that walking on tiptoe, straining both my calves and my soles, especially in the state they were in, was stupid. There was no way for me to lighten the pressure of my body against the rope. I could only endure it. But still my instincts said “rise up,” and I did, though it mattered not. I pushed forward, crying out, my hips bucking as I forced my way up and over the knot. It tore at my clit, scratching the skin and then burning its way through my slit. I let out a choked sob, my arms trembling from my piss poor attempt to keep the weight off my nipple clamps. Shards of pain exploded at the tips of my breasts as I couldn’t hold my hands up any longer and let the cruel teeth of the alligator clamps bite deeper and stronger, pulling on me. Each breast was already swollen and red, with dark lines stretching across them, some directly above the nipples. I could feel the welts, those heavy marks marring my skin.
“Stand still,” Sara warned me. I stood in Kari’s living room, my legs spread, up on tiptoe, my hands behind my neck, both breasts exposed and ready. Tears were already wetting my cheeks, and she hadn’t even hit me yet. The clover clamps, with their heavy weights and terrible bells lay on the floor by my feet, having been removed after I’d laboriously, and painfully, jumped ten times. My nipples were beyond tender. They ached horribly and the last thing I wanted was for some cruel sadist to take a thin birch branch and lay two dozen or so thin lines of fire across those turgid points.
It didn’t help that Alissa, in all her naked glory, her own breasts heavily marked with cane welts, knelt between my outstretched legs, her hands on my knees, her head tilted back, her tongue pressed to my clit, licking madly. Her shoulder length brunette hair, with blond highlights, dipped and swung as she tried desperately to work me into another orgasm. The RVP, which I’d been wearing before I’d been laid out, legs spread, for twenty strokes of my sap, was in Kari’s lap, getting a fresh set of batteries. Kari was taking her time and I was trembling with pain.
The cane flashed forward, striking my right breast, just beneath my pierced nipple. The bite marks of the clamps I’d been wearing just minutes before were still visible. The padlock, sporting the black enameled golden rose of the Society, bounced and jittered as the impact wave forced my breast to ripple. I gasped, pain flooding through my bosom, but Sara didn’t give me the time to deal with it. Instead she hit me again, this time on the left side. It was so hard to hold myself in position, but I had to. I knew it. The punishment for breaking position would be twice as worse.
“Oh, how I love caning your tits,” Sara whispered, letting the narrow tip of her branch slide over my left nipple, teasing it. My chest heaved with the stress of it and that only made what Alissa was doing to my clit that much more difficult to bear. As much as I couldn’t break positions, cumming would be worse. So much worse. They’d make me lay down, spread my legs, holding me open. And then the red candle burning on the coffee table would be held above me, pouring down onto my…
Focus Breanne. The cane.
It struck again, biting into both breasts this time, drawing a line of excoriating agony from right to left. I sucked in a hard breath, rocking from the blow and Sara once again rubbed the tip of the cane against a nipple. Then she began tapping, lightly at first, but with increasingly harder snaps of the wrist, using just the tip of the birch branch to strike the tip of my breast. I whimpered. Then I moaned. Then I flinched, unable to take the sharp staccato taps to my nipple. Finally I couldn’t bear it and twisted. Sara pulled back the cane and aimed a full throttle stroke at my right breast. The birch branch landed, cutting deep and I cried out, my hands coming off my head as my body screamed “cover yourself!”
A burning line of fire appeared across my ass and my hands flew backward, which is what Sara wanted. The moment I was no longer covering my breasts the cane smashed back into them. Alissa reached up, grabbing hold of my buttocks, pulling them wide as she forced her face into my sex. I trembled under the strain.
“Hold very still, Breanne.” Sara took hold of my wrist and pulled my hands away from my bottom, bringing them back up to my neck. “Alissa, pull her buttocks apart,” I felt Alissa’s grip shift even more and suddenly she was tugging my cheeks outward, exposing the delicate little button in back. Sara moved around behind me and poked me with the tip of the cane, right in the delicate spot. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t dare move. Besides, do you have any idea how close I was to cumming?
Sara waited, continuing the maddening torment while Alissa pushed me to the edge. Then, just as I was about to jump into sexual nirvana, exploding with wild abandon, Sara’s cane snapped down with a lighting strike, blistering a single finger length’s worth of flesh. My mouth opened as I screamed and this time I couldn’t hold still, dancing away, the scarlet fire burning through my buttocks as the welt appeared through my crack, instead of across it, centering on the tiny button of my bottom.
I blinked, my vision swimming. I was halfway across the rope. My nipples were throbbing with ungracious heat and you could see the red indentations of the teeth digging into the tips of my breasts. My arms ached horribly from trying to hold them up, but it was my clitoris and labia that hurt the worst, burning as the rope scored the sides of my sex, tearing at the soft flesh. With each knot I surmounted I felt my clit catch, dragged down and under me, a perversion of the wooden horse, except so much more terrible in its own way. I struggled forward, tearing myself even more on the rope, glancing back, half sure I was bleeding. But no, only the wet smear of my own sexual lubrication darkened the hemp behind me. I found the next knot and when my clit pressed against it I felt the surge of arousal, the need to actually hump the little terrible bulge. What the hell is wrong with me? Why would I want this torment? Could I stand more? Rows of knots were there before me, almost twenty of them, if not more. No. I couldn’t press myself here. Not now. I had to use the arousal to get to the end. So I rose up on tip toe and dragged myself once more over the twisted rope.
Inch by laborious inch I moved down the line and I found myself rocking my hips. Each knot was no longer this horrible thing I had to surmount, but a lifeline of sensation, the caress my clit needed. I’d hit it, pull back, and then strike it again, then again, surprised when I’d accidentally manage to work my way over it. The knot would force my petals apart, scouring the sides of my slit before literally popping into my vaginal entrance with force. I’d have to rock my hips once more to get the bump out of my well, and then it would tear its way through my bottom, gliding over the anal plug base. I began to want it, each knot like a tiny cock hitting my clitoris, sliding through me and into me. I wanted it so bad I could taste it.
Robert pulled his shaft out of Alissa, its full length wet with her cum and she lay in a daze on the carpet, her legs spread wide, her petals swollen and wet. From the smile on her face you could tell she’d enjoyed her second fuck of the night. The first had been in her bottom, a floor show while I’d struggled to do the jumping jacks. Now I had the RVP back inside me, the vibrations on low but the rotation function at its highest setting. Desperate, I moved over to Robert’s rigid member and put my mouth on him.
He tasted like Alissa.
Laying back, he let me swallow him, bobbing my head as Kari moved down and plucked the controller from where I’d tucked it in the strap of the RVP. Suddenly the vibrations picked up strength as well, everything set to maximum as I swallowed, licked, and sucked every little bit of Alissa left on Robert’s shaft. Then I tried to go deeper, sucking every last drop of fluid from Robert himself. I knew it would be difficult to get him to explode. He’d already been relieved of his fluids several times that evening, with various partners and it was a healthy dose of drugs that had him hard and ready again. But while Viagra and Cialis might make a man hard, it won’t always make him ready to cum. And so I bobbed and licked and sucked until my jaw was hurting. Of course that didn’t change the fact that the RVP was doing things to my sex that had me bucking and whimpering in excited revelation. I could feel the vibrations on my clit, inside me, and down the full length of my slit. And don’t even get me started on the swirling fingertip stirring my insides. On full power there was no way to resist it. I was going to cum. Again. Resist. Resist. Resist.
I couldn’t resist. I was going to cum. The rope was too intense, cutting against my clit and I began jerking my hips wildly, multiple knots still ahead of me, rocking myself on the thick hemp line digging its way through my loins. The pain of the rope merged with my arousal, ramping up into a full throated orgasm as I stared forward. Five more knots. Just five. Don’t cum. Resist. Resist. Resist! It was a mantra I repeated over and over as I managed to get over the knot, desperate and on fire. Everything hurt and everything felt wonderful. My nipples throbbed, my ass clenched tightly around the vibrating plug in my ass. My feet burned. My calves trembled and all I could think about was the next knot, cumming and cumming and cumming.
“Oh, you came again? Naughty girl!” exclaimed Sara as I twisted, moaning and groaning, my head impaled on Robert’s still granite like cock. She grabbed my right foot and held it out, lifting the birch branch. I was still bent over, my lips wrapped around Robert’s shaft when she struck my sole, making me jerk as my teeth grazed his solid rod. Robert winced and I tried to let out a knowing cry, but Robert thrust just at that moment as well and all that came out was mangled sob. Sara, still gripping my ankle, swung the switch again, adding a second red welt to my arch. Fire burned along my soul and even though I kicked involuntarily, she was ready for it. Then my other foot was locked in a vice like grip and I knew someone else had moved up to help Sara. With both feet in the air, perched on just my knees, my head still face down in Robert’s lap, sucking cock. Sara laid another stroke down, this time managing to catch both feet. I’d have jumped if I could and instead reached back with my hands, unable to tolerate the torment.
They caught my hands immediately and I suddenly found myself supported on only three points. Leaning me forward, the only thing that kept me from falling was Robert’s dick. The pressure of the torment, the RVP still spinning and rumbling inside me and along my sex, combined with the fiery pain of the bastinado, forced me to translate the excess energy and I began bobbing and sucking in hyper-mode, going crazy on Robert’s cock. My brain, fried with arousal and orgasm and pain, somehow believed that if I made Robert explode, they’d stop hurting my feet.
Another welt, another red line. My toes curled and my ankles wildly twisted despite their iron-like grips. It didn’t matter. Sara’s skill with the cane was legendary and she hit me perfectly, over and over until the bottoms of my feet burned with a heat that matched my welted and caned breasts. It would be days before I’d be able to tolerate high heels. And God help me if I had to rise up on tiptoe! Suddenly Robert grabbed my head, skull-fucking me with abandon and I gagged as he thrust his shaft deep into my body. My vision swam as oxygen was cut off and it was just at that moment that Sara let loose with a rapid collection of strikes against my feet that left every muscle tense, my pussy locked tight around the RVP’s rumble and tumble. I was frozen in place, held by the feet and wrists, bent over, with a cock blocking my air, and there was nothing I could. Pain blossomed in the soles of my feet and then Robert’s shaft pulsed. There was a shake and then he began erupting, squirting fresh loads of cum down my throat. I caught a single breath of air as he pulled out and thrust again, more cum deposited in my mouth and all I could think about as I swallowed was the lancing burn of my soles.
My God my feet hurt! Standing on tip toe, even with the edge of orgasm right there, the rope cutting through my slit, my clit rubbing frantically against the last knot, I could feel the fresh agony of the welts as I stretched upward, my body trying to decrease the pressure on my sex. To no avail I might add. I bucked, waves of exquisite agony slipping through my slit. My arms felt leaden, weighed down, each pulling hard on the nipple clamps and making it all hurt even more. The metal teeth tore into my nipples and my head felt as if wrapped in cotton. I was so tired, so aroused, and hurting so much! How could I? But my hips rocked of their own accord and I felt it, finally, and as I burst I lifted myself over the knot and slid it painfully through my slit, letting it pop into the little opening of my depths. I came.
“That’s unfortunate,” Kari said, looking at me with a wicked grin. “You came from a punishment for cumming. You just can’t learn, can you?” she asked. I lay breathless on the ground, my legs spread, my sex brightly colored from the strokes of the sap she’d just used to beat my clitoris into a paper-thin wafer. The petals were wet and glistening and my chest heaved, ample evidence of my orgasmic climax. Kari clicked her tongue *tisk tisk* and then I was pulled to my feet. I swayed for a moment until I managed to get my brains rearranged so that the neurons could fire correctly.
“Time for some exercise if I’m correct,” said Kari. “Right Breanne?”
I blinked. I had no idea what she was talking about, or what punishment was coming next. That was on the list. In my defense, I was sort of out of it, ricocheting from one torment to another, cumming and wanting and hurting and needing at speeds that made coherent thought something of a luxury. What can I say? I’m the ultimate physical hedonist. So it was wide eyes that I watched Kari approaching with my weighted clover bell clamps.
The brainchild of Master Phil, it was Mike the Hardware Guy who created the two monstrous clamps. Starting with a pair of vanilla clover clamps (as if those things could possibly be considered vanilla!) he added plier-like ridges to the smooth pincers. Fastenings, a small spring, a four ounce lead weight, and a silver bell finished the row of hardware, leaving me with approximately a third of a pound of weight hanging from my nipples, using clamps unlikely to slip and that were designed to tighten the more you pulled on them. And just for fun, they rang like a church bell, two clear tones with every breath, step, or spank I received.
I remembered the punishment and Kari stepped right up to me as I tried not to flinch and step back. The urge to run was strong.
“Hands behind your head, Breanne.” I did as Kari asked, my chest heaving more from the anticipation than anything else. My sex still throbbed from the heat of the sapping I’d received, practically the moment Kari had gotten home. And now, now it was my breasts turn to take the torment. Her hands came up and with delicate finesse she attached the clover clamps, letting them bite deeply into my bosom, way behind the nipples. My piercing and padlock on the right side stuck out at an odd angle thanks to the pressure and I clenched my teeth, trying to deal with the pain.
“Ten NHPS jumping jacks,” Kari said simply, though the only difference between regular jumping jacks and the NHPS kind was the hardware dangling from my breasts. I braced myself, took a deep breath and then got into the opening position, preparing to leap high into the air and clamp my hands. Trembling with trepidation, I leapt high, my legs and arms closing. I felt a massive weight on my nipples, followed by a brief tug in the opposite direction as I reached the apex of my jump and began coming down. Landing jolted me and the weights on my breasts pulled so hard I almost bent in half, crying out in agony. The bells rang madly. The spring jumped, sending sharp little tugs and I stopped right there, crying.
“Jump!” Kari scolded me. Her hand slammed into my ass, shocking me and I jumped again. The hardware struck my rips, hurting me in a very different way even as my nipple tried to tell my brain that they were being ripped off. I landed again, once more experiencing the agony at the tips of my breasts.
“Jump,” Isobel whispered. Another slap on my ass came from Kari and I jumped again, this one only half as high, my legs buckling, everything hurting. I tried again, barely getting air. Kari’s hand caressed my bottom and then struck me once more.
“You don’t want to have to wear those all night do you?” Kari asked, running her hands over my body. Then she slipped her fingers between my legs. “Do I need to put the RVP back in right now?” I shook my head as her fingers found my clit, rubbing and pinching. I was too sensitive to tolerate that RVP. I knew that.
“Then jump, Bre.”
I jumped again, and then again. Tears streaming down my cheeks. And then, on the ninth jump, the unthinkable happened. The clamp on my left nipple slipped off. It shouldn’t have been able to, what with the tightness and the ridges, but it did. Everyone stopped and stared and I let go of my neck, unable to control myself as I cupped my breasts, crying out as the blood rushed back into the crushed nub. Kari stared at the weight for a moment.
“Pick it up, Breanne.” Her voice was heavy. I looked at her, wincing. “Pick it up and put it back on.” My nipples throbbed and I looked up at her.
“Please! Kari! Anything but that!”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t put that clamp back on and do your final jump, Sara’s caning of your breasts will be next.”
I swallowed. One type of breast pain in exchange for another? Fine. I just wanted my nipples to stop hurting! I straightened up, looking Kari defiantly in the eye. Then with my lips pressed tightly together, I jumped. One last jack.
When I came to my senses I was on the floor. There was a throbbing burn in my left nipple and I looked down to see a trickle of blood seeping from the tip of my breast. My left arm was still attached to the nipple clamp, which was dangling downward from my wrist. Fortunately my right arm hadn’t pulled the other clamp free. I sat up and unclipped the other alligator clamp, whimpering as the pain shot through me. I looked down. My loins were raw and scratched, sporting tiny red lines along my thighs, my slit, and even over my clitoris, which was swollen to twice the size.
Gingerly I climbed to my feet, wincing. The bottoms of my feet felt as if I were walking on crushed glass and I limped toward the barn door. For a moment I thought about taking down the rope, but I was too exhausted, too hurting to do it then. I’d handle it in the morning. I bit my lip, wishing I had my clothes, but they were still at Kari’s place. So naked I began the humiliating and painful crossing of the gravel circle between the barn and the house. I made it to the door without crying and slowly turned the lock. Everything was dark, the kitchen, even the entryway to the living room, and I padded in, barefoot and buck naked. I made it halfway across the living room when the small table lamp next to my father’s easy chair snapped on.
I jumped in shock as my father’s face was illuminated and I froze, wrapping one arm across my breasts, the other draped down between my legs.
“Getting in a little late, aren’t you?” he asked.
I glanced at the clock. It was one o’clock in the morning. I nodded.
“How many times today?”
I blinked. “Time what?”
I did the math in my head. “Twelve, I think.”
He grinned. “And you were properly punished for each one?”
I nodded. “Yes sir.” I sighed wearily.
“Good. You look exhausted.”
He didn’t say anything and I took that as a dismissal and started for the stairs. Then I heard his voice.
“Breanne? Would you care for one more?”
My foot froze, poised above the first step, my mind a flurry. I was tired, sore, psychologically and physically hurt. There was no way I could tolerate another orgasm, with or without punishment. Right? I thought about it, NHPS rules, of always being ready and available. Did I really have grounds for refusal? If it were Zach, or Mike, or John, or Kari, or Isobel, or Sara, would I refuse? I closed my eyes, the conflict raging with in me. Resistance. Don’t cum. Resist. Hold off. Always aroused.
I looked back at him. “I’m supposed to resist,” I said.
“You can only resist, if you have something opposing you.”
“Come on. You know you want it,” he said. “And if you can keep from cumming, then there won’t be a need to punish you.”
Resistance. The word echoed in the empty chambers of my mind and my foot came back down, a twinge of pain as it settled on the floor instead of the stairs. I turned and looked at him, my arms dropping as he pulled out the tiny bottle of oil he kept in the table drawer.
Your assignment today is about resistance. The assignment starts the moment you wake up. You will dress in whatever clothing you would like. Your toy of the day will be the RVP (Rotating Venus Penis). I am aware that there are two functions: a rotation action with three settings, and a vibration function, also with three settings. At no point during the day will either function be turned off. For fifteen minutes of every hour one of the functions must be turned to high. For the remainder of the time you may adjust the settings as you see fit, provided both functions not be turned off. I suspect you will cum frequently and often. Waves count.
However there are repercussions for orgasm. With a thirty minute time period, with a different person each time, with no repeats, you will seek and accept the following punishments. Some will require you to remove the RVP, which should be immediately put back in once you’ve been suitably chastised. If the punishment does not require the removal, the RVP stays in – and on. Should you fail to complete the required punishment, you will complete a single knotted rope walk, stretched at the height of your naval, across your barn, wearing your alligator nipple clamps, with your wrist cuffs connected crosswise to the clamps across your chest. Have fun. - Brandon
First Orgasm – Twenty spanks to your bare bottom.
Second Orgasm – Hard breast slapping
Third Orgasm – Twenty rubber band snaps to each sole
Fourth Orgasm – Alligator clamps, applied by someone else, on your nipples, worn till your next orgasm.
Fifth Orgasm – Fucked up the ass
Sixth Orgasm – Twenty strokes of the sap to your clitoris.
Seventh Orgasm – Weighted Bell Clover Clamps, applied by someone else, worn till you complete a dozen NHPS Jumping Jacks
Eighth Orgasm – Clit and pussy hot waxed, removed via flogger.
Ninth Orgasm – Your Titanmen Inflatable Vibrating Wonderplug, lubricated with Stinging O, stuffed up your bottom, turned to maximum, and left there for the remainder of the day.
Tenth Orgasm – Both functions of the RVP turned to high for twenty minutes while giving a blowjob.
Eleventh Orgasm - Have someone cane the bottoms of your feet.
Any additional orgasms can be punished as Kari sees fit.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
If you haven't read "Resistance" which is part one, don't you think you better?
“Alligator clamps, applied by someone else, on the nipples, worn till your next orgasm.”
I was getting tired. Sexually tired, which is a pretty amazing thing for me. These assignment where there is non-stop cumming, well… I’m not as young as I used to be. Why couldn’t this stuff have happened to me when I was sixteen? Or eighteen? Or hell… twenty-two? I may look just shy of twenty-five, but trust me - I feel those extra years and it’s hard to imagine me being thirty in just two more. Part of me wants to know when I’m going to grow up, constantly asking the question about “age appropriateness”. It’s tough to be a nympho humiliation pain slut when your paramours are only half your age. It looks a bit more predatory at that point and one thing I like about being me is that I’m the prey, not the hunter. I sort of wonder what will happen when I’m no longer the desirable target, with fresher, more nubile teenyboppers wanting sex and abuse.
I took a deep breath, relishing the fact that my nipples were no longer sporting the vicious bite of the alligator clamps. They’d been attached by a very nice gentleman who I’d seen watering his garden and had absolutely no problem with me baring my breasts in his backyard and allowing him to see what kind of mischief his twisting might do after the little toothed monstrosities were chewing on my nipples. Having to leave them on until my next orgasm wasn’t much of a problem. I’ve developed a bit of a tolerance to that sort of thing so I gave him a big smile and continued on, getting back into my truck, turning off the RVP and heading back to the farm.
The hiatus in direct stimulation was welcome, but it only lasted about twenty minutes. Once I parked the truck in front of the barn I once again was forced to turn the RVP on, both functions to low, rotating and rumbling inside me and against my sex, so that as I went out to set up the irrigator I was in a state of sexual flux. I tried to focus on my work, but it was practically impossible, and by the time another hour and a half had rolled around, I was having issues. Granted, most of those also stemmed from the fact that I still had to turn the RVP to full torment mode for fifteen minutes out of every hours, swirling, spinning, vibrating, buzzing - you name it, all between my legs. My clit was swollen and ripe, my slit itself was slippery and hot, and adding in the alligator clamps just made everything worse.
Or better. Depending on your point of view.
To be honest, I was resisting. I was at a point where I only had four more minutes to go before the fifteen minute “boosted” time frame was up and I could turn the RVP down to a more reasonable level. I wondered if I could make it, but then realized that even if I survived the next four minutes without screaming out in orgasmic pleasure, I’d only grant myself a few extra moments by turning the power down. I looked back at the bike I was using to get to the south field and wondered if I could get back to my truck quick enough to grant myself peace. I shook my head. Too much to do. Instead I focused on my breathing. On relaxing. On not giving in. On resistance.
That’s when I exploded.
It took me four or five minutes to get my sanity back and frankly the RVP was starting to get to me. That much vibration is going to have an effect on you regardless of what you want, need, or can handle. Most women, when they get over-sensitized, pull away from the pain. Me? I’m sick. I can’t say I like it, but I can say that it turns me on. I actually get more aroused when my clit feels like it’s gone through a haboob (that’s what a sandstorm is called guys, not some sort of strange form of breast sex), coated in lemon juice, and then chewed on. So by the time I was finished with the irrigation stuff, I was already aroused again, closing in on the edge, with two minutes to go before I had to START the punishment I’d earned for cumming a fifth time.
I knew I wasn’t going to make it.
The only male within five miles was my dad, and while I’m sure he’d have been absolutely fine with sticking his dick up my ass and pumping until he was empty and I was sore, the reality is that it’s tough to arrange that when your mother is also home and your six year old daughter is expected to come marching down the drive on her way back from first grade. It’s just not done.
And that meant Brandon’s punishment for not getting punished. I sighed. It didn’t mean I could skip the other orgasm punishments. It just meant that I’d have to have them all done at the same time, then go ahead and do the punishment punishment. God. That even sounds stupid. Punishment punishment? What have I come to when I need a punishment for not doing my punishments in a timely manner?
But it also left open other possibilities. See, Brandon just said that if I missed a punishment, I’d have to do a knotted rope walk across my barn. But that’s it. He never said what would happen if I missed more than one punishment!
So that set me up. I ignored the burning need between my legs as long as I could and orgasm number six rumbled through me about twenty minutes later. I meandered back to the house, said hello to everyone, went and got a few more chores done, orgasmed a seventh time, and then finally sought the peace of the truck again, heading toward Kari’s condo.
I arrived relatively early and I knew Kari wouldn’t be there, so I did something daring. I knocked on the door full dressed. As I suspected, the door opened a few minutes later and Robert stood there, dressed in tight exercise shorts and a tee shirt that showed off his rippling pectorals. Oh my…
I grinned. “When’s she due home?” I asked, glancing in.
Robert laughed. “In about two hours,” he replied as he stepped aside and let me in.
“Good. I could use a favor,” I told him.
He hesitated. “Normally I’d say ‘anything’, but it’s you and frankly there are some things I just can’t help you with.”
I gave him a rueful glare, then pulled out my phone. In seconds I’d dialed Kari.
“What’s up sweetheart?” she asked me in lieu of greeting.
“Hey, Kari. I was wondering if it would be okay for Robert to fuck me up the ass.”
There was a pause. Kari approves the “assignments” I go on, so she was well aware of what I was doing. “You’re only on your fifth orgasm?” she asked suspiciously.
I laughed. “Hell no. I’m on my seventh. I know… I still will have to do the knotted rope walk, but it got to be a little difficult always running out to find someone. I had stuff I had to do.”
Kari was silent for a moment. “I see. That does makes sense, though it breaks the spirit of the assignment, if not the letter.”
I grinned. “Pre-law major, remember? It’s all about the letter.”
“It won’t be when I take a sap to your cunt,” she replied.
That sent a delicious shiver through me and my sex tightened around the RVP, which I had turned back on the moment I’d gotten out of the truck. I wasn’t close to exploding, not yet, but the idea of her standing there above me, with my legs spread, her wielding that little black leather paddle, well… it made me very, very wet.
“Very well. But while you’re getting your bottom drilled, call Alissa and Madeline and invite them and Sara and Isobel over for dinner. Then you can make dinner.”
I blinked. Call… while getting fucked?
“Um, Kari? That sounds…” I started to say.
“There should be everything you need for a chicken dish, but if you can’t find everything you want let me know and I’ll get take out from Hungry’s.”
My stomach rumbled almost as hard as the RVP. Gyros… oh my.
“Just get Hungry’s,” I told her.
Kari laughed. “You are a great cook,” she replied.
“Who is terribly distracted right now, and it’s already four twenty,” I protested. “I don’t have time to get a dinner together.”
“All right. And if you get an apologies about tonight, call one of the other members,” Kari told me.
She was talking about members of the Society of the Golden Rose, an upscale, lesbian, BDSM club for some of Houston’s elite. Kari and I were members. Well, Kari was. I was her official “slave”, though submissive would be the more appropriate word. No one was there unwillingly. The Society created some interesting dynamics sexually and provided opportunity. Oh… and the orgies are amazing. Really, you haven’t had sex until you’re in a room with wall to wall mattresses, with over twenty squirming, naked, wet, women, all with their legs open and their tongues out.
But I digress.
We said our goodbyes and I turned back to Robert, who had his arms crossed and was looking at me with a grin on his face.
“Satisfied?” I asked, waving the phone at him.
“I didn’t think you liked anal,” he replied.
I shrugged. “I don’t. It’s not about cumming. It’s about punishment.”
Robert’s face darkened. He’s not a sadist and doesn’t really care to be involved in anything that actually abuses me. Yet he was also a guy, and whether or not he got to stick his dick in the front or the back, he’d gladly take it. And so when I grabbed his hand and lead him back to the master bedroom, passing the “dungeon” and the guest bath, he willingly complied.
I stripped, completely, taking off the bra, the tee shirt, the boots, socks, and jeans, and then turned toward Robert. He peeled off his clothes, revealing a semi-hard, thickening cock that was about seven inches long. I pushed him down onto the bed, much to his surprise, and with the RVP still buzzing inside me, swirling in my depths, I put my mouth on his cock and began sucking.
Sure, I was trying to be nice, and maybe Robert thought of it that way, but I wasn’t being friendly, or gracious or anything like that. Oh no. I was being selfish and manipulative. See, if I gave him a near orgasm blowjob, before he fucked me in the ass, two things would happen. One, he would be better lubricated to go in, and two - close to orgasm - he’d only be in there for a short period of time before letting rip. That would reduce the amount of time I’d have something thick, hard, and long shoved up my ass.
And while I accept everyone else’s interpretation, Breanne’s personal rule is that the anus is an exit, not an entrance.
So as soon as Robert was pushing my head away, clearly near the edge and frightened I’d make him pop, we exchanged places. I dragged a pillow under my hips to elevate my bottom and Robert knelt behind me as I moved to all four. He probed lightly, the RVP preventing him from getting in the wrong hole. I also knew the vibrations were getting to him. He moaned and then found the right spot, pushing steadily.
I tried to relax, but there is just something about getting butt fucked that makes it unpleasant. At least for me. So in order to get his tip in Robert had to push hard, forcing himself into my back door. I let out a pained whimper, my sphincter stretching as he pushed, and then I managed to relax. One inch became two, then three, then four, and by that time I was open enough I could take his full length. Robert drove in as I rocked my hips and then, when he was all the way to the hilt, I clenched tightly.
He groaned and tried to pull out but couldn’t. I kept him like that for maybe four or five seconds, then let loose. He began thrusting, pounding his hips into my derriere, his long cock splitting my ass and with a wicked sigh, I grabbed hold of the RVP remote and turned up both functions. That certainly changed the dynamics and Robert seemed to like it to. Unfortunately, he was the one who came first, spending less than five minutes in my bottom. He pulled out, rolled over, and then looked at me.
“Weren’t you supposed to make a phone call?” he asked.
My eyes widened. “Shit!”
Robert laughed. “That’s what you get for being distracted.”
I glanced down at his cock. It was as limp as a wet noodle. I groaned.
“She’s going to kill me,” I protested.
Robert smiled and patted my rump. “That’s the way it is.”
I sat up. “Wait. We can fake this,” I said hurriedly.
Robert’s eyebrow went up as I reached for Kari’s nightstand drawer. I knew what would be in there, but I was just a little shocked when I opened the drawer. The damn thing looked like my toy box! Dildos, vibrators, clamps, cock locks, rings, bondage stuff. Wow. I rooted around until I found the smallest dildo and handed it to Robert.
“Here. Straddle me, put this in my ass, and pump it.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “I don’t want any part of this,” he protested.
“I’ll take the blame and the punishment if we’re caught,” I told him.
“Sure you will, except you’ll also write it down. Then Kari will read it. And then I’ll spend six hours with my cock locked in the punishment box.”
I blinked. “You spend hours with your cock locked in that thing anyway,” I said, confused.
“So? Why give her another reason to do it?” he said.
I glared at him. “Grow up. She’s going to torture regardless. So what if you give her an actual reason.”
Robert sighed and took the dildo. “Roll over,” he said sullenly.
I did and spread my legs. He put the tip of the dildo against my ass and it slid in easily, thanks to Robert’s cream seeping out of my crack. As soon as he began to pump I dialed Alissa. She answered on the third ring. Since I was still very much close to the edge because of the RVP, you can imagine that my voice was wavering, just a bit.
“Hey Alissa, this is Bre!” I said breathlessly. Robert gave me a particularly hard thrust of the dildo and I let out an involuntary groan.
“Hi Bre. What’s up? You sound like…” she paused. “Are you getting fucked?”
I let out another whimper. “In the ass. By Robert.”
“Wow. Wish I could get Robert to take me in the ass,” she said wistfully. Alissa was bi-sexual like me, but she’d given herself to Mistress Sara, who was a dedicated lesbian. Sara didn’t hate men or anything like that, but she had little use for them. Alissa was only rarely given the opportunity to have cock and I sort of felt bad for her.
Anyway,” I said, followed by another loan grunt. “Kari wanted me to invite you and Sara for dinner tonight.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll have to call Sara about that, but I think we’re free. Can I call you back with confirmation?”
“Uhhh…” I groaned again. “Sure.” Robert began thrusting fast and my little moan came out all vibrato.
“What time?” Alissa asked, giggling at my antics.
Kari hadn’t said so I plucked a time frame out of my a… um…. head. Definitely head. My ass was otherwise occupied. “Six thirty?” I asked.
“We can do that. Enjoy the anal,” Alissa replied, then hung up.
I twisted and looked back at Robert who was still diddling me in the butt. “Did you have to do that?” I protested.
“What? You wanted this to seem realistic, right?” he asked, gently and slowly drawing the dildo almost completely out before sliding it back in. His other hand reached beneath me and cupped the RVP, shaking it. I almost blew a gasket right then.
“Wait!” I exclaimed. “Let me call Madeline!”
Robert chuckled and stopped rocking the RVP, but he kept his hand down there as I dialed, one number for every thrust of the dildo in my ass.
Madeline didn’t pick up. Isobel did.
“Hello?” Mistress Isobel said into the phone and I think I stammered something incoherent. I wasn’t expecting Isobel to answer Madeline’s phone. Robert thrust a bit harder and I gasped something.
“Is that you Breanne?” Isobel asked. I managed to gasp out a coherent reply.
“Yes Mistress,” I said, strained as Robert began rocking the RVP again. “Kari wanted me to invite you and…” I tried to say it fast, but at that moment the orgasm that had been building decided that right then would be a good time to rear its massive head. I clenched my teeth even as I struggled to keep from screaming.
“...Madeline,” I gasped. “Dinner,” followed by a groan. “Our place… uhhhh…. six-thirty… ooohhhhh.”
There was a long pause as I shuddered and whimpered. Behind me, Robert was either drilling for oil in all the wrong places, or attempting to dig a tunnel between my ass and my pussy.
“Are you cumming, Bre?” Isobel asked curiously.
I let out a whiney acknowledgement. “Yes Mistress. Robert is fucking me up the ass and I have the RVP in,” I managed to say.
“I see. And why were you calling Madeline instead of me with this invitation?” she pressed.
Coming down from the orgasm was sweet, but Robert was still working the dildo in and out and it made my voice waver. At least I had a good answer.
“I presumed you’d be working, Mistress and didn’t want to disturb you. I figured Madeline would be free.”
“She’s tied up at the moment,” Isobel told me.
I blinked. She said it so artfully, so level-toned, that I didn’t know if she was being facetious or literal. My mind treated me to this image of the little French maid, her brunette hair in rings around her face, bound naked except for the frilly little apron, spread open, her bottom scarlet from Isobel’s spanking, her sex dripping wet, a red rubber ball gag in her mouth.
All tied up indeed.
“Are you cooking?” Isobel asked next.
“No ma’am. Kari is getting take-out.”
“I’ll call her with our order,” Isobel said, then hung up. Robert pulled the dildo out of my ass and I scrambled for the RVP controller, turning it down to a tolerable level. I flipped over and looked at him kneeling above me.
“That was intense,” I said.
Robert shook his head and got up off the bed, heading toward the bathroom. He washed the dildo, dried it, and returned it to the nightstand drawer. I noticed he’d cleaned himself too and while he was putting on his shorts, my phone rang again. It was Alissa.
“Okay, we’re on for tonight, but Sara said that if it’s also about punishing you, she gets to cane your tits.”
“Uh… that’s technically not on the punishment list,” I protested.
“It’s not a punishment. It’s the cost of us coming over.”
“I have to get caned across my breasts?” I demanded.
There was a chuckle. “Yep. And I might have said that you offered to let her cane you in exchange for letting me have Robert up the ass.”
I sighed. “Girl, what’s wrong with you? No one should want it up the ass,” I said. I’d rolled over onto the bed and didn’t see Robert come up behind me. Just as I said the word he stuck his forefinger into my butt and pushed all the way up to the knuckle. I let out a sharp squeal and twisted.
“Robert!” I half-shouted.
Alissa chuckled on the phone. “Seems like you’re busy. Go ahead. Take it Bre. See you later!”
I squirmed away from the penetration and Robert grinned as he held up his finger. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist the way that conversation was going.” Then he went back to the bathroom. I grabbed the RVP controller, stuck it through one of the straps, and headed back out into the living room.
Robert came out a few minutes later to find me setting the dining room table. He was still buck naked and despite having cum in my bottom not forty minutes before, was already semi-hard.
“So what punishments are you getting tonight?” He asked.
I put down a few plates. “Sapping to my clit, twenty strokes,” I said. “Followed by the weighted bell clover clamps and a dozen NHPS jumping jacks. Then I’ll have to present and get my clit and pussy waxed and flogged clean.” I paused dramatically. “And if I have another orgasm it will mean having my ass permanently stuffed, for the remainder of the day, with my Titanmen Wonder Plug. Vibrator on full power.”
Robert blinked. “You don’t do things by halves do you?”
I ignored him. ‘A tenth orgasm means the RVP needs to go to full power, both functions, for twenty minutes while I give someone a blowjob,” and after that, if I’m still cumming, I get to endure a twenty stroke caning to the soles of both feet.”
And I didn’t even mention, that regardless of what time I got home, or what I’d had done to me, I’d have to strip naked, stretch a rope across the full length of the barn, straddle it, clamp my wrists to my nipples, and gingerly walk the entire length, letting each knot tear at my clit.
Robert sighed and stepped forward. Tenderly he wrapped his arms around me and I felt his cock against my buttocks. A thousand thoughts rushed through my mind, every one of them darkly perverted. My loins tightened around the RVP.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” he asked sweetly.
I nodded. “Put on some clothes and let me go,” I said. “I already want to fuck you again and you’re not making this easier.”
Robert let go, laughing, and disappeared, leaving me to set the table.
Don't worry. Part Three will be available tomorrow!
Breanne Erickson is the author of the amazing BDSM romance story "Coming of Age." Follow along on the journey of sexual exploration into the realms of Breanne's world and find out just what makes her tick. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you'll cum with her as she finds out what it really means to be a nympho humiliation pain slut.