Anniversary Assignments

As many of you know, Breanne's one year anniversary writing (and fucking) for Michael Alexander Stories is right around the corner. You would not BELIEVE the insanity coming her way. I've read some of the suggested assignments, not to mention the "softening up" assignment she will be enduring the week BEFORE.

On January 5th, Breanne will be posting all of the assignments she had received, so that everyone can vote on them. The voting period will start on the 5th of January and continue through to January 12th. If you would like to submit a suggested assignment to Breanne, it needs to be done prior to January 2nd, so that Breanne can review it, negotiate changes if need be, and get it ready for publishing. I also have to review them.

Please email your suggestions for Breanne's Anniversary Assignment to breanne@michaelalexanderstories.com!

Please! Don't Hit Me!

"Oh God! Please! No! Please! Don't hit me!" She cried out. Her legs trembled in response to the stimulation caused by the massive vibrator buried between her legs. It rattled and clacked against the set of vibroballs also stuffed into her pussy, a double dose of mechanical mayhem that had been going on for over an hour. She flinched and then let out a noise that was part sob and part giggle. She tugged on the chains holding her legs spread and upward, exposing her delicate sex to their abuse.

First it had been nothing more than rape. It had started with a thick black rubber phallus, with a tapered head. He had plunged it into her wet gash until she had screamed and begged for mercy. He pushed a narrow probe into her ass, made of hard black rubber, taking her anal virginity. It had not been pleasant for her. With both hands he had fucked her, ramming the two hard probes into her holes. To her shame, she had ended up begging to be allowed to cum. His response was to tug the narrow bottom phallus out of her rear end. A new toy appeared in his hand and he shoved the inflatable plug into the still tight hole, squeezing the blub until she felt as if her ass were about to rip apart. He took hold of the dildo still buried in her pussy and worked it until she was right at the edge. And then he stopped.

They had left her like that for over an hour, stuffed, but untouched, until a new tormentor had taken the first's place. The inflatable plug was removed and the set of beads slowly stuffed into her gaping hole. She winced and cried out as each one was inserted. Then the phallus was removed and she had been forced to deal with the vibroballs, and finally the vibrator. The buzzing was taking it's toll and she felt close to cumming again. She looked up as he stepped forward, the heavy leather crop swinging in his hand. She knew where he was planning on hitting her and she shook her head, begging.

"Oh God! Please! No! Please! Don't hit me!"

Announcing a NEW BREANNE STORY! By BREANNE!

Photo courtesy of VictoriaF-W on DeviantArt.com

It is my great pleasure to announce that our own Breanne Erikson will be adding a new fictional work to the VIP LOUNGE on January 1st. For those of you who are members of the VIP LOUNGE, you have, no doubt, already discovered Breanne's stories "The Party" and "The Computer", which she wrote while attending university. She will be adding a new and darker story to "The Skeleton Closet" section of the VIP LOUNGE. This is where we hide our... skeletons.

"Hanging" by Breanne is one of those perfect short stories that will have you wishing you were there, either in her place, or doing it to her. In a dystopian universe with futuristic technology and set in a town reminiscent of the American Old West, Breanne lets us follow along on another NHPS adventure. Besides the phenomenal story, it also gives us another glimpse into the way Breanne thinks and feels:

I couldn’t hold it off. My body was trained to orgasm, to cum, to explode, to release, to please, to hurt, to be humiliated. I am a nympho humiliation pain slut, a girl trained and dedicated to providing others with sexual gratification, and if I enjoy it myself, that just makes me better at it. I am a fuck toy, meant to be screwed and hurt and whipped and fucked over and over again. I have had so many men, and almost as many women, my tongue and hands and mouth and pussy and ass giving pleasure and taking pain. I lived to be humiliated, embarrassed, presented, bound, flogged, and forced to cum.

If you have signed up for our free Newsletter, you'll be treated to a beginning excerpt, just to whet your appetite. If you aren't a member of Michael Alexander's VIP LOUNGE, I recommend you join as soon as possible. You don't want to miss Breanne Erikson's "Hanged".

Daily Assignment 12/25/10 Merry Christmas

Breanne's Christmas Assignment Post is now available in the VIP Lounge of Michael Alexander Stories! Join now to become a member and get unrestricted access to all of Breanne's past assignments!

Merry Christmas!

Twas the Night Before Christmas

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

The Cream of Venus

I'm pleased to announce the launch of my new blog, entitled "The Cream of Venus". Unlike Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, The Cream of Venus is not another story venue. Inspired by "Cabbage Patch Dolls" of which I'm quite fond of, The Cream of Venus follows along the same line, bringing you a daily dose of the ladies I use as my muse. It's all vanilla, so if you're hoping for more bondage, hang around here, or try one of the blogs I've listed in the right side bar under "Interesting Blogs". But if you're ready to see some true beauty, click on over to "The Cream of Venus!"

Zophia's Bondage Shoot

At my other blog "The Cream of Venus" I just recently posted a few shots of one of my favorite models "Zophia". She also did a bondage shoot. Here's some shots.

Giving Her The Juice

Daily Assignment 12/21/10 Desensitization II

Desensitization II

I don’t think I’m getting better at tolerating extreme, direct, forced vibrations. But be honest. That’s the way you want me, isn’t it?

I had a pretty busy day yesterday, which you probably guessed by the fact that I actually posted TWO assignment completions yesterday. After my little fuck fest with that nerdy kid, I quickly wrote it all up and posted it, just so my hungry fans would have something more to read about. I hope Mistress Ellen was pleased too.

I, on the other hand, felt just a tad bit cheated since I didn’t cum. And figuring that Master Barrett would want me to approach my desensitization session in exactly that state, I didn’t masturbate while writing out yesterday’s little adventure, or in the shower. I can’t tell you how hard that was.

When I was finished cleaning up, I moved to my room and let my towel fall. I was totally naked, and not even stuffed. I had taken out my ben wa balls during the shower. Hey – even a NHPS has to be clean, right? I padded across my room to the closet where I got down my toybox. I had been thinking of this all day.

Master Barrett and I had worked out the procedure for this evening… sorta. His “motivators” to keep me from orgasming were more mental than physical, unlike Master Brandon’s from Sunday. Mostly my new “punishments” for cumming would affect the next three days starting this morning. I’m wearing my chastity belt, so I’m stuffed front and back, and the basic rule is that I have to turn on a different vibrator for two minutes, every hour. Of course, that was just the basic plan. Thanks to my desensitization session, it’s gotten a bit more complicated.

I know what Master Barrett is trying to do. He’s trying to accustom me to not cumming. He knows denial drives me banana crackers, so he’s trying his best to get my engine running, and then not let me go anywhere. It’s cruel and inhumane. I’m basically used to cumming four or five times a day, and now with Master Barrett, I’m lucky to get one. Of course, sometimes he hammers me with ten or eleven in one day, and then total denial the next. I’m off balance.

The rest of this assignment is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog. You can read all of Breanne's Assignments in the VIP Lounge Assignment Archive at www.michaelalexanderstories.com! Check it out!

Daily Assignment 12/20/10 Stripped Naked

Stripped Naked

Sometimes, living in Texas during the Winter, especially South Texas, is pretty awesome. While we rarely have a white Christmas, the brutal South Texas heat gets moderated into a nice balmy 75 or so degrees, which makes being a nympho humiliation pain slut much much nicer. This morning I got a sweet little assignment from Mistress Ellen, who felt I needed something to occupy my day with before doing my hour long “Desensitization II” procedure for Master Barrett. The assignment was simple: go to the mall, pick up a guy, and let him strip you. Suck and Fuck him and the return him to the mall.

Of course there were a few more specifics involved, like what to wear, where to strip, how to drive him back…. That sort of thing. But why reveal all the details at the beginning, right?

I had originally told Mistress Ellen that I would do it after lunch, but I managed to free up some time this morning to get it done. Around ten am I hoped in my truck, dressed in my cowboy boots, white socks, blue jeans, panties, a blue button up shirt, and a bra. Of course I was also following NHPS Rule#1, so I was stuffed with my ben wa balls as well. My Japanese Clover Clamps were in my pocket and I was ready and raring to go.

The rest of this assignment is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog. You can read the entire thing at Michael Alexander Stories in the VIP Lounge! Check it out!

Daily Assignment 12/20/10 Edges

This is going to be a short write up. Mostly because me writing about masturbating is boring. Sure, if you had BEEN there, I'm sure it would have been a lot more interesting, but since you weren't, I'm not going to bore you with the details. Suffice it to say I had to masturbate today. Lots. But without the normal results, which sucked.

So what happened? Well, to put it bluntly, Master Barrett directed me to masturbate ten times today, except instead of each masturbation session resulting in the normal "oh god yes!" reaction I'm used to, I was specifically directed NOT TO CUM. Yep, that's right. No orgasms for me. What was there to stop me? Oh the usual: punishment. In this particular case ten NHPS Pushups for each failed or incomplete edge. And if I failed one, all the edges afterward were forfeit. So I was damn sure not to screw up the FIRST one.

What's a NHPS Pushup? Geeze, you are behind the times, aren't you? You need to read the archive to get in gear.

The rest of this assignment is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog. You can read it in the VIP Lounge of Michael Alexander Stories! Check it out!

Happy Anniversary! One Full Year!

The wheels of time have come around in a full circle and I find myself looking back over the last year with something akin to amazement. On December 19th, 2009 I began Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog with the intention of using it to promote my stories and website. It took an additional three months, but I finally got Michael Alexander Stories up and running. I rehired Breanne, thus broadening the appeal of both blog and website, and have been writing my ass of all year to bring new stories to fans, including the innovative and wild Choose Your Own Destiny story currently available in the VIP LOUNGE.

For those of you who have been with us since the very beginning: thank you. I hope you have enjoyed my fiction and the exploits of our own nympho humiliation pain slut: Breanne. Hopefully this next year will be just as orgasm filled as this last one. Many happy returns... and keep coming back!

Yours Faithfully,

Michael Alexander

Daily Assignment 12/19/10 Desensitization

I'm not sure how many nerves are in the clit, but I've heard it's a major nerve center. It's sensitive, easy to over stimulate, and on whole, one of the nicer things about being a woman. Which is why I was doing something crazy last night.

Yesterday morning I had engaged in a conversation with Master Barrett, and later Master Brandon, about my clit. I was trying to maintain a position that despite being a nympho humiliation pain slut, I couldn't stand direct, vibrational, non-stop, full power stimulation to my clit, for extended periods of time. It just isn't possible. At least not without being tied down and losing my ability at coherent thought. Sure, I've done twelve hours before, but I was so fucking sore when it was done, and I barely remember the last six or so hours, that I'm not sure that qualifies as "enduring".

Master Barrett was of the opinion that as a NHPS, the over sensitization of my clit was part of the "Pain" factor in NHPS. Master Brandon agreed. So in an effort to mollify both gentlemen, I agreed to start subjecting myself to direct, vibrational, non-stop, full power stimulation. I started last night.

My goal was simple: one hour, wearing my butterfly clitoral vibrator, on full power. At least that's what I promised Master Barrett. It should of been easy. Lie there on the bed naked, wearing the butterfly, try not to cum for a full hour. That was the plan until Master Brandon got a hold of it.

After my shower I tossed the terry cloth towel on my desk chair and grabbed my toybox. Master Brandon had been rather specific, and I quickly pulled out everything I might need, but hoped not to, and placed it on my bedside table. Still stark naked, which also included an empty pussy, I slipped into the butterfly harness, strapping it around my waist and thighs until the small purple plastic vibrator was positioned directly above my clit. Snuggled tightly against my slit, the little plastic bump spread my folds just a bit and I wiggled my hips to make sure it wouldn't come loose.

The ankle cuffs and wrist cuffs went on next. I admit that I like the look. There's something about me wearing nothing but thick bondage cuffs that just looks... sexy. I had been a little hesitant about this part, especially since it meant that getting loose would take a minute or two. Once I was appropriately clad (in just restraints) I sat down in the center of my bed and spread my legs. It wasn't hard to attach the caribiners I had connected to the ankle cuffs to my metal bed frame. My thighs ached as I did it, but my forced splits and the discomfort I was in went away as soon I laid flat. I pulled on the ankle cuffs and was assured that my legs were now bound open in a way that would require me to actually sit up, scoot back down the bed, and then unlock each cuff by hand.

Next I turned on the butterfly vibrator, to full power of course. I let out a sound that was part moan, part whimper, and part purr as it began buzzing against that nerve bundle. Almost immediately I felt ripples of pleasure streaming up from my clit and my pussy tightened, convulsing around an imaginary cock. I took hold of the butterfly remote, still set at maximum power, and tossed it down my body until it rested next to my left ankle. I lifted my hands to piece of rope I had tied to the headboard frame and then attached my wrists cuffs to it.

I could move of course, but I couldn't reach the remote, not with out untying my hands, stretching, and reaching down to grab it. But what was available were the items I had placed on the bedside table. I turned and looked at them, hoping I wouldn't need them. Then, with my wrists still above my head, I tried to concentrate - on not cumming.

I'd like you to imagine what it's like, being tormented like that. If you're a girl, you probably know, since getting a bit tender down there can happen at weird moments. But if you're a guy, you're sorta clueless, so I've got to explain. Imagine being tied down while I rub your cock. I know... stop smiling. Now imagine I'm using oil and that I'm concentrating on the tip of your cock, with only the occasional long stroke down the length. Hey. I said stop smiling! Now imagine me ignoring your overt physical responses, and timing my strokes so that they don't meet your pulses, your thrusts, and continue to rub against the tip, sensitizing the skin until you are feeling not only arousal, but a bit of discomfort. Imagine I change my strokes so that I add more long ones, but not enough to make you cum, and I continue to focus most of my hand movements on the tip of your cock. I never stop and I never increase the speed and I just keep building up pressure until you cock is like granite and ever stroke of my hand is a mixture of agony and ecstasy in one slippery movement.

I've done that to guys, so be nice to me.
There is another issue which guys need to understand, and that's the difference between clitoral orgasm and vaginal ones. If we want to be technical, guys can only have one orgasm, and it's analogous to a woman's "clitoral" orgasm. Guys don't get to have vaginal ones, and let me tell you, vaginal orgasms are insanely better. We may not be able to open our own jars, but for sex, being a woman rocks. IF we have a decent partner, and aren't cramped, or puking, or sore, or in our time of the month. Okay, I admit there are down sides. But enough of the sexism here. We're talking sex.

My little adventure in selfbondage was attempting to create the circumstances causing clitoral orgasm. My hips were bouncing and I couldn't stop my self from rolling my loins in sexual frustration as my pussy said "fill me" and the bondage cuffs said "sorry, you can't do that here." Fifteen minutes into the hour I felt that spark and surge of need turning to excitement, and then turning to OMG YES! I exploded with a strained cry that I muffled as best I could, letting the endorphins flood my brain and the sexual epiphany of release turn me into mush.

Usually after an orgasm I sort of just lay there, basking in the glow of "oh yes..." But when you are tied down to a bed, legs bound apart while a motorized sex toy is humming against your clit, with over forty minutes of time left before you can turn it off, basking in the glow isn't exactly an option. In fact, its sort of like screaming your head off while riding a rollercoaster, and then, instead of the coaster streaking back into the station at the end, when you're ready to get off, it takes a forty five degree turn, tips downward, and then begins this herky jerk spiral that has you screaming and puking your guts off.

I didn't puke by the way.

But my clit was objecting to the vibration. Despite the generally benign nature of the vibrations being applied to my clit, the nerves were being stimulated beyond their capacity. Thus, a touch that only moments before had been erotic, wanted, and felt incredible, now became laced with other sensations: pain, discomfort, and increased sensitivity. I hissed, arching my back, as my clit sent mixed messages. I got "let me off this ride" and "oh god yes. Another one?"

When I had set up this little... desensitizing procedure… it was with the intention that I would try not to cum during the first hour. Ooops. Master Barrett had seemed pleased I was just TRYING to meet his expectations. Master Brandon however had contingency plans.

I stretched my hands over to the bedside table. The rope binding them to the headboard was pulled taut, but I was able to pick up the item I was reaching for. The steel chain felt cold to the touch and I trembled as I brought my hands down to my chest. My fingers worked their way to the ends of the chain and I found the two steel alligator clamps, lined with dull, but pointed little teeth. I pinched them open, set them against both tender, distended, and sensitive nipples, and then let go.

For about thirty seconds I totally forgot about the discomfort of my clit. Instead, I hissed and groaned and arched my back as real pain shot up through my breasts. Most of it went to my brain, but some of it flooded down toward my toes and the second it got near my pussy, it did something to me. It made me WANT.

I know. Weird huh? But that’s just the way I am. What can I say? Pain turns me on. Well… sort of. Pain INTENSIFIES my need if I’m ALREADY turned on. So don’t think coming over to my place and breaking my arm constitutes foreplay. It doesn’t. But coming over to my place, tying me up spread-eagled, stuffing me with a vibrator and then WHIPPING me silly before fucking my brains out sounds like a hot first date.

My hips began this mad little dance, a herky jerk of muscle twitches and thrusts that were lewd, provocative, and would have resulted in my immediate fucking had I been naked on a beach in a crowd of guys. Of course, being alone, on my own bed, tied spread eagled (kinda) just meant that I had to suffer through it.

And the minutes ticked by.

It was about twenty minutes later when orgasm two hit me. I tried to hold it off. Really. But I just couldn’t. I didn’t want it. Trust me. When you know what the consequences are to cumming, you try really hard to follow your orders. After the flood of endorphins blasted through my brain and my breathing had finally slowed, I ignored the pain laced complaints of my clit and began freeing my hands. This was the dangerous part. I didn’t want to be tempted to turn off the butterfly vibrator. I freed one hand from the bindings and reached over to the bedside table. The bottle was there, waiting for me, and I popped the cap and positioned the plastic container over my left breast. I squeezed out a single droplet of the milky white fluid and then, when it landed cold and wet on my nipple, I moved it to my right breast. Before the droplet fell I began to feel this cold tingling sensation on the first tender nub. Soon both breasts were tingling with cold that began to heat. I placed another droplet on my finger this time, and then moved it down to my clit, pushing the digit UNDER the vibrator, smearing the cream all over the tenderized, over-sensitive nub.

OMG.

I went from simmer to boil in about four seconds. My body shook, my pussy contracted rapidly, and the sensations coming from my chemically tormented nipples and clit, not to mention the butterfly which was immediately returned to its place of honor, were enough to fry my brain. Lust surged through me and I would gladly have fucked literally ANYTHING at that point. My legs pulled tightly against the bonds holding me open and I grit my teeth as I virtually fucked… nothing.

Would you believe I came again? Sure, it was ten minutes later, but I came AGAIN!

My clit was now hurting. Not just discomfort, but real genuine pain. Of course it was mixed with need. It was still being sexually stimulated, and the worst part was that the two very different set of signals were being mixed and confused with one another. I couldn’t tell if I wanted off the ride or more. My clit was confused, which meant when I added Master Brandon’s next little incentive not to cum, it REALLY made things tough.

Like my alligator clamps for my nipples, the large alligator clamp for my clit is made of metal. I adjusted the spring inside so that it didn’t bite down quite as hard as it originally did, but it still left red teeth marks. I squeezed it open with one hand as the other pushed the butterfly down. Then I let it close on my clit, my hood, and even a good bit of skin.

Ouch.

Owwwww…..

Oh GOD THAT HURTS!

MORE! OH YES!!!

I had slid the butterfly back up and my now DISTENDED clit was in even MORE direct contact, forced contact, with the butterfly. Plus the vibrations traveled through the clamp. It was like pouring gasoline on a fire. My multi-orgasmic sex went into over drive and I couldn’t help myself. I glanced a few times at the clock. Just ten more minutes. Please… just hold it for ten more minutes.

You know that line? From Apollo 13? “Failure is not an option?” Yeah, well for me it sure as hell is. I had two minutes to go when I came for the fourth time. My orgasm blasted through me, easily the most intense one of the evening. It curled my toes, it had me turned into my pillow to scream, it had me jerking like a landed fish. And when I was done I felt like a limp noodle or a wrung out rag.

My fingers reached down and pushed the butterfly off my clit. The alligator clamp came next and the flood of sharp pain as the blood rushed back into (or was it out of) my engorged, swollen, very red, very sensitive, very painful clit. I did cry out that time, gritting my teeth. It took me a moment to deal with the pain and when I had mastered it, I reached out, grabbed the wire to the butterfly, and turned it off.

But I had cum again. Master Brandon said I might break four. I told him no way. But he told me what to do if I did.

Almost crying, I reached over to the table and picked up the last item. It was simple. A long plastic ruler came into view as I brought it down toward my clit. Five strokes for every orgasm he had said. Bracing myself as best I could, I snapped my wrist downward, bringing the flat of the ruler against my pussy. It struck the folds and my clit and there was the explosion of agony that raced through me. It hurt. A lot. I flicked the ruler again.

And again.

And again.

At ten I lost count. I’m not sure what happened. So I backed up. What else was I supposed to do? I probably ended up giving myself about twenty five smacks and then I was sitting up, my pussy burning with heat, red and swollen, as I struggled to free my legs. My thighs protested as I released the tension on them and then I was rolling out of bed. I fell to the floor and found I couldn’t walk. I crawled over to the desk, pulled my toybox to the floor, and grabbed my Husky Dildo. I rolled to the floor, rammed it in, and came.

So much for desensitization. Right?

Well, I have another session planned for Monday. Maybe I’ll make it the whole hour? Who knows?

CONGRATULATIONS!

Congratulations to kinkyjamie, our winner of the FREE VIP LOUNGE MEMBERSHIP! A great big thank you to all of you who participated and signed up for our free newsletter!

Yours Faithfully,

Michael Alexander

New Entry Page/ Updates

One of the most amazing guys I know created a new entry page for Michael Alexander Stories. The book covers actually scroll!

Update: I've also updated the CYOD. It wasn't totally finished, thanks to my concentration on "The Trip", and to be honest it still isn't. I have a couple of more scenes to write for the Rebecca plot path, but it should be finished by January 1st.

Our contest to win a free membership is almost over! If you haven't signed up for our free newsletter, then do it in the next twenty four minutes! Contest closes at five pm today! I will post the winner tomorrow!

Daily Assignment 12/16/10 Clamps and Tools

Yesterday I sat down at my computer with just a little bit of giddy excitement. Who knew what Master Barrett had in store for me! I had already finished my morning chores and had come back inside, still dressed in my typical work outfit: tube socks (the boots were downstairs), blue jeans, white cotton bikini style panties, a warm long sleeve button down shirt, and a white 36b bra.

Oh yeah, and a set of vibroballs.

I had turned them on almost immediately after getting dressed that morning, tucking the little remote into my pocket, the wires sticking up through the waistband of my pants, no doubt alluring to the interesting little toy inside me. They were on low of course. I’m getting better at handling high power, but it still makes me cum, and I’ve gotten to the point where I’m no longer masturbating at whim. I can’t say that I’m getting USED to denial, but I can say that I UNDERSTAND why it can be a good thing. So vibroballs on low meant that I’d be wet, ready, and wanting when it came.

Accessing my email is easy. It just takes a few clicks and I licked my lips, waiting for that moment. And there it was! The whole “you’ve got mail!” signal and my eyes widened as I saw the subject line “Felt the need to make you suffer” and I clicked it open.

Good Morning Bre

Firstly if you have already cum this morning get your belt and give yourself twenty hard swats to the pussy. I did tell you to check your mail first thing every morning didn't I? Ok now that unpleasantness is out of the way now get three binder clamps from your toy box. Yes right now, move slut! Good now put one on each of your nipples and the third of course goes on your clit; put them on. Hurts so good right? Now you can take them off when you have gone out to your barn and cum twice from fucking two different things you have never fucked before.

Enjoy your morning Fuck Doll!

Barrett.

I swallowed hard. Then I stood up. I had been given direct orders and they had to be followed, immediately, or there would be repercussions. At least I hadn’t cum that morning, though I admit, it had been close. I couldn’t imagine starting things off by pulling down my jeans and smacking myself with my plastic ruler twenty times first. Thank God I hadn’t earned the pussy spanking just for not checking my email first!

I opened my toybox, shoving aside dildos and vibrators and anal beads and rubber bands, and all the other crap I use to either make myself hurt and/or cum. I actually have several binder clips; the big black huge clamps designed to hold large amounts of paper together. I deliberately set aside the two four inch binder clamps. They’re designed for holding reams of paper together and I use them to clamp my entire breasts, not just the nipples. For more detailed work, like what Master Barrett was asking for, I needed the two small ones, designed for a sheaf of paper no thicker than my pinkie. I grabbed those, plus the slightly larger one I use for my clit.

I started with my shirt. Not sure why. Unbuttoning it was suddenly difficult. My fingers trembled. Finally I got in there, lifted my bra up and delicately pinched open both small clamps. I clenched my teeth. I had worn these before I knew how much it was going to hurt putting them on. I let the pincers close on my nipples, biting me cruelly. Pain shot up through both tits as if I had just dipped my breasts into a vat of boiling water. I grimaced, stifling the cry threatening to escape my lips. I gripped the back of my chair hard as I shook, the pain only slowly receding into this desperate throbbing ache.



I tried to distract myself by unbuckling my jeans, but my hands were still trembling. It took me a minute or two to get them down. The vibroballs remote tumbled to the floor, but I ignored it, tugging down the front of my panties to expose my already rather wet, needy, and soon to be hurting pussy.

The binder clamp I used for my clit is actually a tad bit larger than the two I use on my nipples. It’s also been slightly modified so that I don’t actually damage myself. I bent it out a little. It still hurts like hell, but doesn’t clamp down so hard that I worry about gangrene. That would really suck. So, still shaking, still hurting from both nipples, I picked up the clit clamp, positioned it, pinched it open, and then let out an explosive breath as it bit down.

OMG.

I could barely stand. Pain laced up from between my legs. It was like fire and ice, applied at exactly the same time. It reignited the pain in my tits and I just stood there, slightly bent over, trying to breath and think and focus.

Master Barrett was online, so I instant messaged him. My typing was horrible. I’m surprised I wasn’t punished more just for all the misspellings. But I told him I had put on the clamps and was heading out to the barn. He wished me luck, told me he wanted to know what I had fucked myself with, and told me to get to it.

So I did.

I pulled up my jeans, which sent a fresh surge of lightning like pain through my loins. The vibroballs remote got tucked back into my waist band, though I admit I thumbed it to its highest level. As the vibrations combined with the pain I felt the surges of sexual urgency ignite. I shuddered and then told myself to move it. I rushed downstairs.

I grabbed my cowboy boots and jammed my feet into them. Each step was another burst of pain, though now it was being seriously mutated into something sexual by the emphatic vibrations of the little spheres buried in my pussy. My nipples had settled down into this deep burning series of throbs that seemed to pulse in time with the vibroballs.

It was chilly outside, but not terribly so. I grabbed my duster, but I didn’t bother to put it on. Instead I sort of run skipped to the barn, trying to marshal my thoughts into some sort of coherence. I needed to pick something to fuck.

I am a serious object fucker. If you haven’t seen my list, it’s posted in my section of the VIP Lounge. Actually, I need to update it. I’m missing a few things on it, and after yesterday, I’ve got two MORE things to add to it. But to say the least I’ve fucked a lot of things. From machine screws, to shovel handles, to rubber hoses (both on and off), to baseball bats (both ends), to screwdrivers (both ends).

When my dad got hurt in the car accident three years ago, I sort of became the defacto fix it girl around the farm. I do everything, which can be a drag, but it does come with some perks. One is my dad’s tool bench. I’m not positive, because I don’t really understand it, but evidently guys have this sort of “urge” or “instinct” that makes most of them “collect” tools. My grandpa did it and passed the assorted crap down to my dad. My dad does it. Would you believe that my dad actually has FOUR fucking hammers? What the fuck do you need four hammers for? And they’re all different too. I asked once. Evidently one is for hammering stone. Another is for nails. I forget about the other two. Who cares? It’s just stupid. A Hammer is a hammer, right?

Well it is when I use it. I can tell you that all four hammers seemed pretty much the same to me. Of course I was fucking the handle of each one, but hey, that’s “using the tool”, right? And that’s the main perk of my dad’s inherited work bench. He got a shit load of tools.

I got a shit load of new things to fuck myself silly with.

To be honest, I have been doing it since I was fifteen, but I never willowed my way through the different pieces of equipment like I do now. Privacy helps. Also knowing my dad isn’t going to come out looking for a wrench only to find it in my socket helps more.

By this time I was desperate. I could feel the climax rising inside me thanks to the push of the vibroballs. I shucked out of my jeans, accidentally tugging painfully on the clamp crushing my clit. I screamed out load this time, falling to the hay covered floor as I kicked my boots off. I shoved my jeans down, struggling out of them, then yanked my panties off, spreading my legs.

The tip of my clit was exposed, pressured into a disturbing swell of clamped flesh. I got up, waddled spread legged over to the bench, the vibroballs remote in my hand, still set on maximum. I grabbed the first item I knew I hadn’t fucked myself with: a socket wrench. Why hadn’t I screwed myself with such an obviously Craftsman like phallus? Simple. I was worried I’d ruin the mechanism. You don’t just shove a thirty dollar socket wrench up your pussy, fuck yourself stupid, and then hope for the best. Could you imagine me taking it back under the lifetime warranty and having to explain what happened to it?

But at the time, I wasn’t thinking of all that. Instead I just grabbed it, moved to the nearest hay bale, sat down, yanked the vibroballs out, turning them off and chunking them to the side, and then ramming the business end of the ratchet into my hole.

It was… a unique feeling. To be honest, I was too close to cumming to really care that there were some rather uncomfortable edges scraping my insides. I jammed it back and forth, wiggling it around as I thrust my hips. I accidentally hit the clit clamp and that’s when I came, screaming out loud in pure ecstasy.

I didn’t pass out, but I came close. I blinked a few times, pulled the ratchet out from between my legs, and did my best to wipe off the goo. My clit hurt, badly, as did my nipples, and I stumbled back to my feet, looking around for new item number two.

I had pretty much fucked everything possible to fuck on the work bench, and so I moved down the wall past some of our more esoteric and farming implements. I hadn’t gone farther than two or three feet when my eyes fell upon the perfect item. With a small groan and sigh, I reached up and took the lopper down from its hook.

What’s a lopper? Well, it’s sort of like bolt cutters, except designed for small saplings. You could trim hedges with it too, but it would take forever. There is a set of sharp snips on one end and the other is two large rubber covered handles, that when closed are only four or five inches apart.



I took the lopper back over to the hay bale and unabashedly jammed one handle into my pussy. It felt awesome. Sure, I was still hurting, but the wrench hadn’t been thick enough to really do me a decent screwing. The lopper handle did. I worked it in and out several times, just enjoying the sensation as the sexual energy built back up to the exploding point.

But there was a problem. The second handle of the lopper kept jabbing me in the thigh. It made for some rather distracting and uncomfortable movements. I kept twisting the tool around, trying to keep it balance upward. Then it dawned on me.

I stood up, pulling out the sopping wet handle I had just fucked. I placed the shears straight down, setting the tip on a bit of hay. Then I turned it so that the lubricated handle pressed against my ass. The fresh, un-lubricated side began slipping into my pussy. I groaned. I wriggled. I squatted. And then I lowered myself down, impaling both my ass and my sex on the lopper handles.

I’m going to admit right now that I was trying to earn brownie points with Master Barrett. I know how much he likes stuff up my ass. I’m not a fan of it, despite the fact I’m writing this whole thing with my anal beads stuffed up my rear, on high. But yesterday morning, I was also motivated by the need to cum, and after humping myself up and down on that lopper, I managed to explode about fifteen minutes later.

I collapsed on the hay bale and my fingers immediately went to the clit clamp, even before extracting the still embedded lopper handles. I bit my lip as the pain surged between my legs. Taking off a clit clamp can be brutal. I shuddered, tears coming to my eyes. Then I pulled out the lopper, tossed it aside, and tried to gently remove the nipple clamps. Yeah. No good there either. I screamed again, rolling in agony, half naked, with only my shirt and a pulled up bra covering my nakedness. My breasts felt like someone had driven stakes through them.

I’m guessing three or four minutes later I managed to get up, grab my panties and jeans, and settle back into the routine. I grabbed the vibroballs, dusted the stray bits of straw off them, and then with a bit of a wince, slipped them back in. I pulled my panties up, and then my jeans, and tucked the remote back into the waistband. I set it on low.

I cleaned tools then. I’m a responsible girl. Besides, you never know when I’ll be the one who needs to use them again… in whatever way.

And that’s just about it. Oh yeah, sure. I went back into the house and told Master Barrett what I had fucked, but it was almost seven, and so I had to sign off. But it all worked out.

So there you have it. Stuffed, clamped, screwed, and double penetrated.

Maybe I should have checked twitter first that morning. Master Barrett had tweeted a simple message.

Woke up this morning with the urge to make a masochist suffer, hmmm.

I hope he wakes up like that more often.

Mmmmm….

Some Good Advice About Bad Advice

When I started my twitter account, I wasn't really keen on following a bunch of people. To be honest, Michael sort of pushed me into it. Oh... I didn't mind. Works is work right? But I'm clueless enough sometimes without being glued to my cell phone, reading tweets or making them. But since I started, I've really enjoyed the whole twitter thing. One of my absolute favorite people to follow is @BDSMBadAdvice. Not only do the tweet hilarious little comments like " Masters are ultimately responsible for their slaves' behavior. Be sure to point this out to your Master next time you get in trouble" but they have an entire WEBSITE too! It's run by Jonathan Byrel Moore and Chris Kelsey and it's really really funny. If you're following me on twitter, you should be following them too. Not to mention Mr. Kelsey's cartoons are awesome. Like the one above.

My best to everyone!

Love, Breanne

Daily Assignment 12/13/10 Alphabet Fuck Day #3

Alphabet Fuck Day #3

Saturday

Breanne - you will continue the Alphabet Fuck. You will wear your stripper shoes, your black see thru dress, and your duster. You will not wear a bra, but you will wear your black lace panties. You will have your ben wa balls inside you. Your duster has five buttons. After every guy you screw you MUST unbutton one of your duster's buttons permanently. When you are on your way back to your truck, you must open the last button. You may cum during this assignment, but only if you are stuffed with the vibrating anal beads and your breasts are bound in the blue rubber bands.

A mall during Christmas, on the weekend, is not a very smart place to do a sex assignment. I should know. I did Saturday’s assignment there.

My day started simple. I had deftly inserted my ben wa balls that morning and headed out to do my chores knowing that soft gentle regular stimulation would keep me wet through the day. To be honest, the ben wa balls are now my LEAST troublesome toy. I can handle them all day and not cum, even walking around, which seven months ago I was NOT able to do. I guess being a nymph humiliation pain slut does give you some skills. I guess I’ll put that on my resume.

Uh.. if I HAD a NHPS resume. I guess I should write one up. Wouldn’t THAT be a laugh?

That morning, around ten am, I headed out, stopping at my favorite little spot just south of our farm, pulling over. I climbed out of my truck, went to the front, and began stripping. I hovered over the hot metal, trying to absorb the heat as I pulled off my boots, my socks, my duster, my shirt, my bra, my jeans, and finally my panties. As usual, the road was empty and I managed to slip into the black lace panties, pulling them up over my swollen and slightly wet pussy. Then I shook out my dress, yanked it down over my head, got it settled, and put my coat back on. I buttoned it up from top to bottom, all five buttons, and then I grabbed my stuff. I sort of tip toed my way back to the cab of the truck and tossed my regular clothing back inside. My stripper shoes were lying on the cab seat and I slipped my toes into the open four inch high platform shoes. Then, dressed like a two bit whore combination flasher, I headed for our local mall.

Despite the fact that I was completely buttoned up, and in a duster that wouldn’t normally attract attention in my neck of the woods, the stripper shoes certainly set me apart. Guys would see those shoes. Their eyes would go up my leg, only to encounter the duster. They’d see me buttoned up like that and the first thing that would enter their little perverted minds was that I must be naked under that coat. Why else would a woman wear shoes like that?

I had one other little thing with me: a list of names. It wasn’t a very long list, but it was a decent start. Master Barrett had said I needed to knock of twenty of the letters of the alphabet. It thought that was very nice of him. Do you know how often you encounter a guy whose first name begins with the letter Q? It just doesn’t happen. Or U? I guess if I found a Russian, whose name was Yuri, I might get a little closer to fucking the whole alphabet… but….

Ever since Friday, I had discovered that going to retail establishments were the absolute best way to get the appropriate letters. Almost everyone wore a name tag, which really helped. It meant that while I was on obvious display as a sex object, I didn’t have to actually walk up to people, introduce myself, and then ask for their name. Granted, I still did it occasionally. Like on Saturday. But I don’t want to get a head of myself. We’ll get to that part in good time.

So at the mall I sauntered in, my toes freezing, a definite cool breeze slipping upward under my dress, and about a zillion guys eyefucking me, which was weird because my duster isn’t exactly form fitting. I guess imagination was filling in the gaps, right? Either that or my pheromones were on hyperdrive.

Yes. I know. It was the shoes. Geeze.

I spent about thirty minutes in the mall before I found my first target: Eric. He was working in one of the outlet shops, one of the big ones, and when I spotted him he was busy restocking one of the shelves full of bed linens. I circled back like a bird of prey, spread my wings, and dived down for my first contact.

“Hi! I’m Breanne,” I said politely, with just a hint of breathiness to my voice. Eric turned and looked at me. Then he saw my shoes. In seconds I went from crazy girl in a duster to oh shit what is under that thing! Eric was maybe eighteen or nineteen, blond (sort of), muscular, and shorter than me, at least in those stripper shoes. Barefoot, he’d be about three inches taller than me. Oh well.

He was polite too, despite the thoughts going around in his head. “Can I help you?” he asked.

There is nothing more disconcerting to a guy, than the touch of a strange woman. Seriously, you can do things with your fingers that you can’t do with your voice. I reached out and laid a single hand, just a hand mind you, on his arm. I let my fingers caress him downward as I smiled and replied with “I certainly hope so.”

He stiffened immediately (no not his cock, though it’s possible. When I did manage to unbutton him, he was already hard), but it was a good kind of stiffening.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

My eyes flashed and I gave him one of my million watt please rip this duster off me and see just what IS under this coat smiles. I took a step or two closer. That’s the other way to get under a guys skin (or his clothes): no personal space. Then I hit him with my pick up line.

“A good fucking.” I said it in a whisper, then licked my lips with what was definitely a tease.

His look of surprise was pretty normal however. This was the point I had to calm him down. I put my other hand on him, drawing even closer.

“I want you to take me to the employee restroom, open this coat, find out what’s under it, let me suck your cock, and then fuck me silly.”

“Seriously?”

I nodded. I could see the wheels turning. He looked around furtively and then nodded with a stupid grin. He took my hand, abandoned his post, and he led me to the back of the store. I was asked to wait at the employees only door for a half a minute. I’m guessing he was making sure the coast was clear. Then he appeared in the doorway, grabbed my hand, and I found myself being dragged through the storeroom at the back of the shop. It was pretty big, but I guess it had to be. We went through a maze of stock and shelves until we stopped at a door marked “restroom”.

You know, I’m getting tired of fucking in bathrooms. I’m going to lobby congress. Every business with more than two people working should be required to have a NHPS fucking room, just in case I come by and want to fuck their employees. I mean, seriously. This is just ridiculous. I’m tired of bending over toilets and sinks, or freezing my ass off on a cold tile floor. Plus, half the bathrooms I’ve been in didn’t meet my needs for cleanliness. Yuck, right?

In this case however, things were okay. There was a bright lemony scent in the restroom, the place was sorta clean, and there was enough room inside for me to actually spread out. Literally.

I started things off by leaning up against the wall and lifting my arms, entwining my wrists above me in a sort of virtual bondage. Eric got the message and began unbuttoning my duster at the top. By the third button, he realized that I was only wearing a see through black mesh dress and his eyes feasted on my bare breasts. His fingers kept going lower and he saw my black panties and then the duster was open.

With a grin, I pushed him away, bent down, lifted my dress, and tugged my panties down. His eyes widened again, but he was just entranced. Then I gave him this naughty grin, grasped the little piece of waxed twine sticking out of my pussy, and tugged my ben wa balls free, dropping them in the sink.

That surprised him. LOL.

Then I went to my knees and began unbuckling his pants. It didn’t take long to get his cock out. That’s when I cringed. Evidently Eric is a masturbator. That’s no problem. I masturbate too. But damn it, CLEAN UP AFTERWARD! His cock reeked. Yuck. There was no way I was putting that in my mouth. I struggled to conceal my feelings, but stood up. It confused him, but since I still had my hand on his dick, he wasn’t sure what was going on.

I gave him this totally fake but believable “let me try this on you look” and I turned on the water in the faucet. Then with a just a little bead of soap on my finger, I began to stroke it over and around his tip.

“To tantalize you before I suck you hard!” I whispered. The fact that he was already hard as a rock was immaterial. I added a bit more water as I basically cleaned the folds of his foreskin. And he was circumcised too! Geeze guys. Hygine! After a minute he was breathing heavy and was touching my breasts through the dress. I could tell he needed things to get moving. Finally satisfied that his cock was clean, I went back to my knees and took him in my mouth. There was still a muskiness, a meaty flavor to his cock, but it was a good flavor. I tasted a bit of soap too, but a little bit of tongue action on my part and some head bobbing removed it completely.

He began moaning and we did the whole mouth fucking thing for about five minutes. Then when I could tell he needed something more, I opened my purse, grabbed a condom, tore the package open, and stuck the rubber prophylactic in my mouth. If you’ve never had a condom put on by a girl this way, go visit a prostitute. It’s awesome. Kari made me learn to do it my junior year of high school. Once he was clad in his armor, I stood up, turned around, and bent over.

My ass was nicely displayed as I bent over the sink. He pushed up against me and I felt his sword drive deep into my body. Originally he had aimed for my ass (what is it about anal sex?) but his cock slipped on my juices and slid downward. His forward momentum carried him about three inches into my pussy and then he pushed more, driving himself deep. We began a rhythmic fucking, me grinding back as his hands roamed over my ass and grabbed my hips.

And then he came. It was a bit sudden, which surprised me, but I guess he was closer that I had thought. He grunted, gasped, held me tight, ground his hips against my ass, and then pulled out with a sigh. Then, before even asking about how I was doing, he yanked off the condom, tossed it in the trash, and zipped up, leaving me in a somewhat more aroused state than I had been before.

Asshole.

Okay, granted, I wasn’t PLANNING on cumming with Eric. But still, to be treated like tissue paper or a used men’s magazine is just sort of insulting. Guys are supposed to RETURN the favor. I didn’t even get the opportunity to smile, tell him that his needs came first, and go about my business. I smoothed my dress back down, picked up my duster, and buttoned it back on. Of course, this time I didn’t seal the top button. It left a lot more open to view, like everything from my neck down to my now visible cleavage. It also made it clear that whatever I was wearing under the duster was see through.

Eric of course didn’t respond to any of this. He merely got himself tidied up. Thanked me for a good fuck, asked for my number, and escorted me back to the main floor of the store.

After Eric I wandered around the mall for another twenty minutes and found an Indian kid named Natan. The whole thing went very similar to Eric’s experience, except that this time I was led into a very tiny changing room where I had a much better fuck thanks to me sitting on the little bench, my leg up in the air and Natan kneeling with his dick in me. Natan came first, though he offered to use his tongue on me until he came. I declined, explaining that his needs came first and not to worry about me, that I got what I needed and wanted. After that, I put on my duster, and left a second button open.

Now I was walking around the mall with all of my cleavage showing, not to mention a good portion of both boobs. Granted, you couldn’t see my nipples unless I was moving in an energetic way, but the looks I was getting had really intensified. And that’s when I saw James.

I know, I was planning on saving the J’s, S’s, and M’s to the very last day, but this guy was incredible looking. And he wasn’t an employee. I just bumped into him while walking the concourse and he gave me this look that said “oh wow.” I just stopped and stared. He spoke first, asking me my name.

“Breanne. Would you please take me somewhere and fuck me?” I said in sort of this stunned ox, breathless voice.

He grinned. “You need it that bad?”

I nodded. All he did was take my hand.

And we left the mall.

In his car.

And by the time we were pulling out of the parking lot my duster was completely open.

And so were my legs.

And he had his fingers up inside me, playing with the ben wa balls.

I begged him to stop. To not make me cum. I told him that I wasn’t allowed to cum with out the anal beads in or the rubber bands on my breasts. He told me that he didn’t care, but that if I wanted, I could put them on. I tried. I really did. I got the rubber bands on, but I had to push back my seat as I started to push the anal beads against my ass and his fingers still played with my clit and then I was cumming, with only one bead inside me.

I slumped in the seat. Semi-defeated, unsure if cumming with only one bead in my ass would constitute violating the rules. I finished shoving in the anal beads and turned them to their lowest setting. We drove for about fifteen minutes and then we were pulling up at a small apartment. I was led up to it, my duster flapping, exposing every part of me. My panties had been left in the car.

And then we screwed. Right there on the couch. In like ten different positions. I came three times. He came twice. When James found out I was a nympho humiliation pain slut too, he spanked me, on my breasts and pussy. My last orgasm was on all fours, potato chip bag clips on my nipples, dangling underneath me, while my clit was lightly pinched by a paper clip. He banged me from behind and I couldn’t take it. My ass was buzzing. I exploded.

He took me out to lunch and we exchanged information. I might meet up with him again. Who knows. But eventually he dropped me back off at the mall. I got out of his car fully dressed, still in my stripper shoes, except now the button at the very bottom of my duster was open, showing a lot more of my legs. Only two fasteners kept the denim shut.

And I went looking for guy number four. Trust me, at this point I was more interested in just finishing up than anything else, and I was aware that I was one guy ahead, but I was looking for an odd ball name and wanted to get one more under my belt. My feet were beginning to ache in the stripper shoes. The ben wa balls were back in my pussy and I had left the anal beads in as well. The minor vibrations coming from my ass were more than enough to move the ben wa balls a bit as well and after about twenty minutes of walking and looking at name tags, I was starting to feel a little bit of sexual need. I still find that weird. I mean why? I had JUST CUM FOUR TIMES! Why was I needing another fuck?

So I called it quits for Saturday. I was right on target with the right number of guys.

So what was left for Sunday and today? That’s easy.

D, F, H, I, L, M, O, Q, S, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z.

Because I Wanted To

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Daily Assignment 12/11/10 Alphabet Fuck Day #2

First of all, I want to apologize for not posting this sooner. I had a tough run of REAL LIFE the other day and it sort of skewed things to the point where my usual sexual insanity was put on hold and I had to take care of a personal family emergency. So what happened on Friday? Lots. Starting with the fact that I love name tags.

You know, I think I’m getting used to it. I wasn’t sure I would. I mean seriously, how many people walk around with something up their ASS all day long. At first, I hated it because it was uncomfortable. The anus is an exit, not an entrance, right? But if you spend enough time plugged, it becomes sort of… therapeutic. I guess.

Thursday I spent a good portion of the day in my chastity belt. Master Barrett was rather specific on a couple of the minor details facing my day. The first was that when I WASN’T hunting for my next few letter fucks, I had to be wearing the chastity belt. The nice part was that I didn’t have to have any of the vibrators ON. That makes a difference, especially when there is a prohibition against cumming for the day.

Yeah. I thought it sucked too.

The rules were pretty simple. If I orgasmed by myself, I wasn’t allowed to count ANY of the letters I managed to get yesterday, and if I came while screwing my letters, then that particular letter didn’t count. Ostensibly this was to remind me to keep my head focused on what was important: my partner. I was to concentrate on being “the best fuck ever”.

Since I was free to choose my own outfit, I decided on something a little simpler. I gathered everything I thought I would need and jumped in my truck a little after lunch. Then I drove out to my usual stripping spot. I have to admit that I’m changing clothes much faster now. It’s hard to take your time when the temperature is around fifty degrees and there’s a wind blowing hard enough to give you a wind chill factor of minus ten. Try standing there naked too and you can see how difficult it would be. It also didn’t help that the outfit I was putting ON was just a tad bit skimpy. I was wearing my mini skirt along with simple halter top. My duster went over it. Lastly, I slipped into a pair of high heels. Not my stripper shoes, but something a little more normal. I wanted to look sexy and attractive, but not terribly slutty. I think I succeeded. The last thing I did was remove my chastity belt. It wasn't required for this assignment.

And I went shopping. For boys.

My first destination was one of our local merchandise retailers whose name will not be mentioned because I don't want to TARGET anyone and get anyone in trouble. I hope you understand. So once I was on TARGET, I started browsing the store. Of course, it looked like I was hunting for Christmas presents, when in fact, I was hunting for a guy with an appropriate name for my list. I hit paydirt. Oh sure, I saw a number of letters I was missing, and a couple I already had. But everyone's name basically begins with M, B, T, or J. It really sucks. Eventually though I ran into Vern, a nice looking short guy, complete with dark beard, thick glasses, and a sweet smile.

My approach was similar to the one I used on Tanner the previous day, except in this case, I professed to looking for something in particular. When I asked Vern if he could assist me, he immediately dropped what he was doing and immediately gave me his complete attention.

"What can I help you find, Miss?" He asked politely. I like that.

I gave him my million watt please fuck me in the stockroom smiles. "I'm looking for a cock with the name of Vern" I replied.

It took him a moment to process that. "What?" he asked.

I repeated myself, though this time I approached, slinky and sexy, and touched his chest through the red shirt. I fingered his name tag and whispered it.

You should have seen his face. It was awesome. It took him a moment to realize that I wanted to screw his brains out, but he finally got the message. We discussed options for a moment, then he pulled out his radio, announced he was taking a break, and we walked to the back of the store. I was escorted, quickly and discretely, to one of the employee restrooms, which was a single lavatory, complete with dead bolt. In seconds I was on my knees with Vern's cock in my mouth. I managed to get him hard as a rock and then flipped up my skirt, bent over holding on to the sink, and let him fuck me. Another letter. I didn't cum, though I admit I wanted too.

I did a repeat in the back room of our local huge toy store, this time with a guy named Patrick. Nothing unusual happened. It was just another quickie with a startled but rather pleased teenage boy who was willing to risk everything for a fuck. Then I did Carlos at the video game store, followed by Bryan the produce guy at the grocery store. Plain vanilla sex each time, though I admit, the whole approach thing got to me. Plus I had to visit about eleven different stores before I found the appropriate guys.

But I scored a coup as well. I was along the strip mall next to the grocery store back toward my truck, when I passed another guy, this time obviously coming from work. He was tall, athletic, handsome, and had a name tag on that said "Randy". Well, so was I. I stopped as he approached, noticing how he eye fucked me. Just as he got near me, I held out a hand, stopping him.

"Hi, Randy. Take me into the alley and fuck my brains out, please." I asked him.

His eyebrow went up and we went through the usual, "is this a joke" phase and the "really" phase until we finally got into the "stupid grin" phase. We disappeared into the alley and behind a dumpster I did my usual blowjob followed by a standing screwing while clinging to a drain pipe. Once again, I didn't cum.

Which is why I'm desperate today. I didn't cum yesterday either, what with all that was going on. So now I'm on the prowl. I still have tons of letters to find. D, E, F, H, I, J, L, M, N, O, Q, S, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z.

So what's your name?