Wednesday. March 31, 2010
Today’s Assignment: (Assigned By Master Mark) Proceed to your regular stripping spot with a two by one foot piece of cardboard, a black marker, and your duster. Remove all of your clothes with the exception of your panties. Put on your high heels and your duster. Take the marker and the cardboard and write the following: "See my tits for one dollar. I'll flash the whole thing for five dollars." Then drive to a busy intersection of your choice and stand on the corner holding the sign. If anyone pays you a dollar, open your duster enough to show them your breasts. If anyone gives you five dollars open your duster all the way. Any money you collect should be donated to your favorite charity. You can leave after ten minutes.Yesterday’s Results: (Assigned by Master Brandon) Get a piece of rough hemp rope that can span the length of your barn, as well as your collar, ankle and wrist cuffs, and a key operated pad lock. Tie loose overhand knots every six to eight inches down the entire length of the rope. Tie the rope across the barn at approximately the height of your belly button. Strip naked. Attach the ankle and wrist cuffs to your arms and legs, but do not connect them together. Hang the key to the padlock on the wall right above where you have tied one end of the rope. Straddle the rope at the end opposite the key and connect your ankle cuffs together. Then connect the wrist cuffs together and attach them to your collar with the padlock. Walk/shuffle forward along the rope until you can unlock your wrists from the collar. Once you have unlocked your wrists you can free your ankles and get off the rope. Then you must masturbate to orgasm.Yesterday evening I spent some time online with Michael working on the new website. I’m getting my own page! Wow! The graphics are cool and I love the layout. When can you see it? I’m not sure. I know Michael is still working out the kinks but the idea is to move my posts from the blog to the website. But my whole point in bringing this up was because I had the opportunity to go back in time and check out some of my earlier daily assignments.Things have gotten more complicated.Daily Assignments used to be these one sentence instructions. Now they’ve turned into complicated grocery lists of to do directions. Take yesterday’s daily assignment for example. Do this, do that, then do this, and do this at precisely this height blah blah blah. Oh, I’m not complaining. I know it’s my own doing. My many assignment master and mistress contributors are no doubt trying very hard not to leave me wiggle room, especially if that wiggle room happens to be between my legs.So yesterday afternoon I went out to the barn to start this insane procedure. The first thing I did was pick out a piece of rope. This wasn’t too hard because I’ve pretty much used the same stuff for all my “rope” assignments. In fact, if this keeps up I’m going to have to go buy some more soon. I had to measure out like one hundred and twenty feet of the stuff. Oh, my barn isn’t that long, it’s only about ninety feet long, but I knew I’d be shortening the rope with all the knots I had to tie. And damn, it took me an entire fucking hour! I started near the middle of the rope actually, which while tough was absolutely the smartest thing to do. They were just over hand knots, nothing spectacular, but I tugged each one tight as I moved on. As I reached one end of the rope I left enough unknotted length to tie it to one of the heavy beams near the doorway. I measured things appropriately by lifting up my shirt and wrapping a couple of loops around the beam right at the height of my belly button. See? I can follow direct instructions! Then I moved back to the center of the rope and began making more knots.By the time I reached the other end of the barn my hands were scratched and incredibly sore. Tying that many knots in a piece of rope as thick as this sucks. It’s not soft rope either. It’s scratchy, rough hemp that could abrade a rock smooth given enough time. At that point I could only imagine what this was going to do to my pussy. Finally I had enough knots and only about ten feet of extra rope. I cut a bit off, looped the ends at belly height, but then had second thoughts. I undid my tie and then made a loop and grabbed hold of some of our ratcheting bale straps. We use these to hold down hay ricks if we’re transporting a huge stack on the trailer. The hook went right were it was supposed to on the rope and I wrapped the other end and hooked it on the beam. Then it was just a matter of tightening and I had a rope stretched across my barn with very little give. Yes. This was stupid, but I didn’t realize it at the time.I had brought my bag full of toys out with me: the cuffs, both ankle and wrist, my vibrator, for afterward, my pet store collar complete with padlock and key! I hung the key on a quickly pounded nail at neck height and took everything back to the other side of the barn. Then I stripped.I had been wearing my mountain boots, white tube socks, blue jeans, blue bikini cut panties, a red cotton button up shirt, and a rather plain 36B cup bra. I took it all off, just as ordered. It was a mild 75 degrees and inside the barn there wasn’t any wind, so I felt rather comfortable as I attached my Velcro cuffs.Kari bought these cuffs a long time ago. They were a gift and one of the first things we realized about them was that the plastic pressure buckles were worthless. A decent amount of force snapped them open, which was no doubt what the manufacturer had in mind. Kari upgraded them with D link metal carabineers and a few lengths of steel chain. So I had maybe a foot and a half of chain between my ankles and about two inches between my wrists. At least, after I clipped them together. I took my gear, plus the padlock and the collar over to the rope and lifted one leg over the hemp. I weight one twenty, give or take a few pounds depending on how much water I’ve had during the day. The rope slipped up between my legs and dug deeply into my pussy. I actually stood on tip toe, which did nothing to relieve the pressure. So wincing with the discomfort I bent down and latched my ankle cuffs together. Now that my feet were hobbled together I wouldn’t be getting off the rope unless I was able to bend down and unclasp the chain. With that thought firmly in mind, I put the dog collar around my neck, buckling it nice and tight. Oh sure, not enough to choke me, but enough so I felt it. Then I did the last little bit. I used the small chain link on the wrist cuffs and threaded it through the metal link on the cuff. The small padlock went neck, locking in place and now my hands were secured about three inches beneath my chin. In retrospect, it’s possible, I suppose, that if I were desperate enough, I might, just might, have been able to twist myself off the rope, fall on my side, and bend myself into a pretzel in order to release the D Link carabineers on my ankle cuffs. But even now, I give that maybe a forty percent chance of success. Failure would have resulted in my laying there in the barn until dinner time to be found by either my limping father or mystified mother. In either case, it would have been difficult to explain what I was doing.And so I only had one direction to go: forward. It was during the first two feet that I realized that the ratchet strap had been a major mistake. If the rope had been five inches lower, maybe it would have been fine, but instead I made an almost ridged beam of rough, scratchy, hemp rope that had about four inches of play in a one hundred foot length. As I took a step forward I literally dragged my pussy forward, feeling the coarse strands abrading the pink petals. Standing on my tip toes did nothing and I made it all the way to the first knot while gasping and wincing.The knot was like an unmovable mountain. I couldn’t lift myself up over it, no matter how I tried, and in the end I realized that I wasn’t supposed to. The knot had to go THROUGH my pussy, from clit to perineum and then a quick crawl up my ass. With a snarl of determination and a little mental chiding, I pushed forward, feeling the small knot strike my clit, drag downward into my pussy, and then strike the soft spot between my bottom and my sex. Then it was behind me and I stopped, gasping.It’s a bit difficult to properly describe the sensation I was feeling. First of all, my pussy was in quite a bit of discomfort. It wasn’t pain, not really, more like getting in a battle of tug of war and you hold the rope but it ends up stinging your hands. That’s what it felt like. Except I was feeling it on some very delicate tissues. The rope was still pressed tight into my crotch and I moved forward another six inches, only to encounter another knot.I quickly discovered that knots were much much worse on my pussy than just general rope. While I could minimize the abrasive qualities of the rope with slow gentle steps, the knots could not be handled slowly. You had to push through them, feeling their heavy width spreading your lips, scratching the inner membranes, literally tearing your skin a little bit at a time. I think it was on the third or fourth knot that my clit got caught and dragged downward with the knot. I gasped, flinched, almost fell, and then backed up enough to free my now supersensitive clit. Fortunately, my predicament was starting to excite me in ways that are perhaps unseemly. I felt my pussy ripening, trying to lubricate itself as the rough hemp soaked up my juices. I tried again, making it over the knot this time and shuddering as I worked my way up the line.I made it about fifteen feet before the discomfort actually changed and became pain, but by this time I was so hot and bothered, so wanting to cum from the stimulation that I was literally gushing. I could feel my juices running down my thighs. I’m sure the rope was discolored from it, darkening behind me. I started moving a bit faster, relishing the approaching knot, letting it catch on my clit and drag it downward. I was near the halfway point when I came, gasping out loud, stopping in my tracks, my knees buckling, the rope eating its way upward through me, threatening to saw me in half. I almost collapsed right then my orgasm was so powerful, but I managed to stay upright and after a few moments took another step forward.This time the scratchy abrasive drag of the rope through my pussy was like fire. Without the sexual necessity blunting the pain I felt as if someone were using sandpaper on my clit. Once again I was forced to make tiny steps, lengthening my time on the rope. Step by painful step I made it to the next knot, my goal still a full fifty or so feet ahead of me. I cried out as the knot made contact with my clit, my aching calves and toes burning. To my surprise, it was my legs that gave out first, dropping me down another three inches as my aching arches collapsed.I hadn’t intended on riding a wooden pony, much less a hemp one, during my delicate traversal of my barn. But in effect, thanks to my idiotic rope attachment, I had created a taut line that yielded to my weight by only a few degrees. Worse, the pressure let off only marginally as I stood on tip toe, something I hadn’t realized until I was standing flat footed. The problem was that my body was reacting naturally to having something pulling upward between my legs. So in truth, while not quite as painful as a real wooden horse or pony, there was no relief, ever. The rope would always be pushing up into my pussy. If I raised up on tip toes I got only a small relief. This was becoming pure agony.Worse, I couldn’t touch my clit, or any other part of my body. When I had regained some of my strength, I went up on tip toes as I slid over the next knot. It was like sawing myself in half starting with my clit. I shook, I shuddered. The only thing that could have made this worse was if I had soaked the rope in lemon juice or Tabasco sauce or something. I rested my calves again, inching forward to the next knot. Rising up, I crossed that one, hissing as it dragged against my clitoris and then sinking deeply into the my slit and then scratching at my anus. Onward.I could describe each individual moment of the next forty minutes as I continued my way across the rope. I could tell about the burning ache in my calves, feet, and toes as I held myself up. I could articulate the agony and little lances of fire from between my legs. I could explain how even then I started to feel another surge of sexual desire, slowly ebbing away the immediate pain and replacing it with a need that caused me to surge ahead. When my second orgasm hit me I was still fifteen feet from my goal. Too far for sure to just push my way through. My entire pussy was on fire and I was sure that I what I was experiencing was as close to being sandblasted as possible. I admit, I actually considered falling off the rope and trying to get my leg cuffs undone.I stood there panting, my entire body trembling as I moved up and down on my aching calves. I was covered in perspiration. My arms ached from being held up by my neck, and my shoulders felt like lead from having to support the weight of my arms. I actually started to cry.Then in my blurry tears I saw Michael standing there at the end of the rope. He was holding out his hand and speaking.“What are you?” He asked softly.“I’m a slut.” I responded automatically, choking back a sob.“What kind of slut?”“A pain slut.” The response was ingrained in me.“And what are pain sluts for?” he asked.“To be hurt and abused.” I replied looking at him with a bit more control.“If you don’t get your ass over here to the wall right now, the punishment I will assign you next will make this one look like a friendly walk in the park.”“Yes Master.” I said forcefully, blinking the tears out of my eyes. I took a large step, dragging the next knot through my pussy, ignoring the burn, the dragging pinch on my clit. Another step, and another, and then another knot. Michael was urging me on, repeating over and over that I was a pain slut and I deserved this. He said that next time I had to do this I would be wearing nipple clamps and high heels, and that the last fifteen feet would be covered in lemon juice, and there would be a plug up my ass, and it would be during the winter, so I would be cold. And then he would pull me down as soon as I got to the end and fuck my brains out, no matter what my pussy looked or felt like.The sexual surge was back and I dragged myself over the next four knots with it building like a fire beneath me. I wiped my tears away as I imagined the next torment and pushed forward. To be honest, I don’t remember much of that last nine or so feet. I remember cumming though as I reached for the key. I remember my clit touching the metal hook and feeling the cool smooth hardware as I came. I remember looking for Michael, waiting for him to pull me from my rope and screw my brains out.He wasn’t there. No one was. I unlocked my hands and fell off the rope into the dust of the barn floor. The incredible bliss of not having the rope between my legs was like finding water after walking for miles through a hot dessert. One of my legs was still draped over the rope and I barely had the strength, but I managed to literally rip the Velcro cuff from my ankle, letting my legs separate. I was free.I’m not sure how long I laid there. I’m guessing about fifteen minutes before I gathered up enough strength to pull off the cuffs. Then I inspected the damage. To be honest, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. My pussy was raw, certainly, and I could literally feel some of the more intense scratches were they left welts, but I wasn’t bleeding, which surprised me. My clit was too sore to touch, even for inspection, so I hobbled over to our water pump and very gingerly cleaned myself of sex juice, dust, and sweat. Feeling better, I went back to my bundled pile of clothes and checked my watch.Two and a half hours. I had spent almost an entire hour and a half on one hundred feet of rope. I shuddered in horror. After getting dressed again I went to the ratchet and released the tension, letting the rope drop. I scooped it up, totally intent on throwing the whole thing in the trash bin. As I prepared to throw it away I heard Michael’s voice in my head.“I don’t think you want to do that.” He said to me.“Why?” I demanded. “This was pure hell.” I replied dreading his next words.“What are you?” He asked softly.“I’m a slut.” I responded automatically, my hands shaking as I clutched the rope.“What kind of slut?”“A pain slut.” The response was ingrained in me.“And what are pain sluts for?” he asked.“To be hurt and abused.” I replied.“So, the question is: will you need that rope again sometime?”To my shock and horror I felt a new surge of wetness between my legs and I took a step back from the trash barrel. Slowly I coiled up the rope and tossed it in the rope locker. I don’t know when it will see the light of day again, but I know that it will, and when it does, there will be a pain slut, straddling it. Most likely wearing nipple clamps, and dreading the last fifteen feet of lemon juice soaked hemp. Why you may ask? Well. That's what pain sluts are for. 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Tuesday. March 30, 2010Today’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Brandon) Get a piece of rough hemp rope that can span the length of your barn, as well as your collar, ankle and wrist cuffs, and a key operated pad lock. Tie loose overhand knots every six to eight inches down the entire length of the rope. Tie the rope across the barn at approximately the height of your belly button. Strip naked. Attach the ankle and wrist cuffs to your arms and legs, but do not connect them together. Hang the key to the padlock on the wall right above where you have tied one end of the rope. Straddle the rope at the end opposite the key and connect your ankle cuffs together. Then connect the wrist cuffs together and attach them to your collar with the padlock. Walk/shuffle forward along the rope until you can unlock your wrists from the collar. Once you have unlocked your wrists you can free your ankles and get off the rope. Then you must masturbate to orgasm.Yesterday’s Results: (Assigned by Mistress Ellen) Your current stripping spot is too secluded. You will now be stripping in the Gazebo at Thomas Park. Before going, print up ten fliers stating the fact that you will be stripping naked at the Gazebo at “specify time” (around a half hour after you arrive. Plan accordingly). You will then proceed to Thomas Park and the gazebo. Bring your duster and a vibrator. You will hand out all ten fliers to various people walking or jogging by. At the appointed time you will enter the gazebo and strip naked. If you have eight or more people in the audience, take a vote asking them if they want to see you masturbate. If they vote yes, then masturbate with the vibrator until you orgasm. If they vote no, put on your duster and return to your vehicle.Over the weekend Mistress Ellen and I had a bit of a discussion about my stripping spot. Recently, I have been parking my truck on a country road behind our farm, getting out and moving to the very front of the truck. Then I would remove my clothes, fold each piece, laying them out on the hood of the truck, and then, after getting completely naked, begin dressing in whatever outfit was required of me, whether it was just slipping into my duster, or even just getting back into the truck naked. What was fairly evident rather quickly was the little country road behind our farm doesn’t get much traffic. As a result I’ve only actually been seen (and one was only a maybe) twice. For Mistress Ellen, this was plainly unacceptable. She did ask me if I LIKED being seen naked. Truthfully, I answered “no”, but I also admitted that when it did happen it felt as if I had been dipped in super sex go juice. So what does that make me?Mistress Ellen asked some pointed questions and determined that I needed a new stripping spot. I had no real choice in the matter. Now it’s the gazebo at Thomas Park. I’m a little more concerned about it because while Thomas Park has its dead moments, it also has its very busy moments. It means I will have to be a bit more careful. Like I was today.Originally I had planned on going to the park around nine am or so. Late enough that the many joggers and walkers would be gone. Instead I managed to only make it over there at around 2:30pm. I had printed up my fliers (which sucked because I ran out of black ink and had to use blue) and tucked both my vibrator and nipple clamps into the pockets of my duster. It was really too hot to be wearing a duster, which meant it would be comfortable naked, but I needed the pockets. I pulled up at the park around 2:15, put it in park, and got out.I was wearing something a little easier today. Blue jean shorts which showed off my pretty legs and cute spankable butt, along with flip flops and an ambercrombie tee shirt made me look almost teenagerish again. I was also wearing both panties and a bra. When you are going to strip, you need to make a show of it, right? The parking lot had a few cars in it, which seemed like mixed blessings. No cars meant no people which meant no audience. On the flip side, no audience meant no heart hammering sexual epiphany topped with orgasm. With a wildly thumping heart and my packet full of fliers, I set off down the path. I walked for only a few moments before I practically ran into a nice older gentlemen in his late fifties, walking his dog.I froze of course. I mean seriously, could YOU imagine walking up to a complete stranger, giving them a beaming one million watt please come and watch me fuck myself with a vibrator smile? Of course not. And if it hadn’t been for his very friendly dog and the older gentlemen’s polite greeting I’m not sure I would have found the strength to speak. We exchanged polite hellos and then he asked me what I was passing out. Wordlessly I handed him my flier and waited for him to read it.
“Is this a joke?” He asked softly after a moment. I shook my head, licking my lips. Evidently I looked serious enough.“I see. All right. I’ll see you at three.” He said, then he continued off down the path.My heart leapt and I practically cheered for a moment. I did it! I gave one out! I took off down the path with a renewed sense of confidence in myself. The next person I encountered was a female jogger. I held out my hand, holding out the flier. She grabbed it from me as she ran past, ears clearly filled with music from her iPod. As she ran she held the flier out in front of her and read it. I smiled as she stumbled to a stop and looked back at me. I nodded, gave her a thumbs up, and then turned away to keep moving down the path.I gave a flier to a sweet elderly couple that looked around eighty and got a disgusted look from the grandmother and an interested expression from the grandpa. There were two more joggers, both men, who only paused long enough to give me a queer look and then they were off again. I bumped into another dog walker, a thirty something year old guy who refused to take the flier until I told him what it was for, then he stopped cold, took it, read it, declared me a pervert working for a reality television show, balled up my flier, and threw it on the ground.Knowing my time was almost up I left the last few on various park benches and hurried back toward the gazebo and my truck.I made it back to the truck at about 2:55 and I suddenly felt a wash of nervousness. You can see the gazebo from the parking lot and I almost left. But knowing what would happen to me if I didn’t go through with this, not to mention the blow to my reputation, I took a deep breath, grabbed my duster, and walked toward the gathered crowd.There were more than ten. The man with his dog was there, plus the elderly couple, not to mention the female and both male joggers. But evidently a few people had made some cell phone calls and there were at least four more guys there, all dressed in casual work clothes. That made eleven people. There was some polite conversation going on as I approached but it all died as I mounted the steps of the gazebo.It was the man with the dog that spoke first. “Hi Breanne.” He greeted me. I smiled nervously back and moved to the very center of the gazebo where there was an empty spot. Everyone moved to edges, looking in, actually providing me with what could be considered privacy. I looked down at my watch and dropped my duster on the floor. At one minute too three I licked my lips and started speaking.“Hi. My name is Breanne and I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut. I’m here because my Mistress, Ellen, wants me to humiliate myself in front of all you so that I can achieve better orgasms.”“Are you doing this of your own free will?” The old lady asked, still clearly grumpy about it. I nodded.“Well then you better do it” She replied.I started by kicking off my flip flops, leaving bare toes and arched soles with pink nail polish standing on the wooden floor. Then I reached up and tugged my shirt upward, pulling it off and over my head. Eyes seemed to lock on my white lace bra which didn’t exactly go a long way to protect my modesty, since my nipples were plainly visible through it. My fingers went down to my jean shorts and I pushed and unbuttoned them until they slipped down my legs like lead weights. It seemed as if something mystical and more powerful than me was yanking my clothes away from my body. I stepped out of the jean shorts and made a soft turn, my arms above my head. I’m no professional dancer but every girl knows how to move to make yourself look sexy. I did that, swaying slightly, grinding my hips, all while trying to look coquettish and innocent.Then I reached behind my back and unsnapped my bra, letting it fall while hiding my chest from everyone’s view with my arms. I danced some more, moving, until as I turned, I lifted my arms, letting my assembled audience see even more. My hands touched my breasts, my arms, my stomach and down to my pussy. I could feel the wetness, the need building in me. It was becoming like fire, something to be quenched. I pushed my hand into my panties, dipping a finger into my slit and then lifting it to my mouth in a gross display of sexual wanton. Then my panties were on the floor of the gazebo and I danced there naked.Comments of appreciation and even a whistle or two sounded and I went to my knees, legs spread wide as I reached for my duster. I went into the pocket and felt my nipple clamps. They weren’t part of the assignment, but I wanted them now. Reacting to the cheers I quickly tightened them onto my erect areolas, pinching the nipples hard and eliciting a gasp from my throat. Then I grabbed the vibrator. I arched backward, stretching my body and put the tip against my clit. I twisted the end of vibrator to its maximum setting which filled the air with buzzing as the tip was buried in my pussy. I couldn’t believe how awesome it felt. In seconds I was close to cumming. I rammed it out, the cat calls and cheers and shouts of “yeah baby” echoing in my ears.And then I came.I lay there gasping for a few moments, shuddering from the powerful ripples of orgasm that were still bouncing around inside me. There was silence from my audience and then I heard clapping. I opened my eyes to see them applauding. How weird is that? Slowly I got to my feet, picked up my duster and slowly put it on. I ignored the clamps on my breasts and tucked the vibrator into my pocket. With a grin I thanked everyone and they let me leave, some wandering off as I made it back to my truck.But only the nice gentlemen with the dog thanked me for the show.I did the only right thing then. I thanked him for letting me provide it.Then I went home.
Monday, March 29 2010
Today’s Assignment: (Assigned by Mistress Ellen) Your current stripping spot is too secluded. You will now be stripping in the Gazebo at Thomas Park. Before going, print up ten fliers stating the fact that you will be stripping naked at the Gazebo at “specify time” (around a half hour after you arrive. Plan accordingly). You will then proceed to Thomas Park and the gazebo. Bring your duster and a vibrator. You will hand out all ten fliers to various people walking or jogging by. At the appointed time you will enter the gazebo and strip naked. If you have eight or more people in the audience, take a vote asking them if they want to see you masturbate. If they vote yes, then masturbate with the vibrator until you orgasm. If they vote no, put on your duster and return to your vehicle.Fridays’s Results: (Assigned by Master Brandon) Today you will proceed to your stripping spot and remove your clothing. You will then put on a mini skirt and a halter top. No panties. You will bring your cylindrical hair brush. If you no longer have that brush you will go and buy one. You will then proceed to the mall and go to the food court. Once there, you will find an out of the way corner, table, or booth, and insert the bristle end of the brush into your pussy. You may masturbate if you desire. You must then walk the entire circumference of the mall and then out to your vehicle before you can remove the brush.Well well, another day of torment provided by our friendly neighborhood Master Brandon. Almost ranking up there with Butt Plug Hell Day (which Master Brandon politely informed me would soon be repeated with some various environmental changes) we now get to deal with Hairbrush in the Pussy Day. Okay, I’ll be honest. I love it. I really do. It’s cruel, it’s humiliating, especially since in all probability the handle will stick out lower than the hem of my skirt, and it will stimulate me sexually to the point of explosion. Which is what I want. So as cruel as this assignment is, I’m not too upset about it.Okay. I’m actually excited by it.This one was definitely a morning assignment, right before lunch, because doing something like this on a Friday afternoon or evening is like stripping at a truck stop. Everyone notices and the place is filled with undesirable elements. So right after ten am I made my excuses and packed up what I would need. It was too warm for my duster so I headed out in just my boots, white tube socks, blue jeans, white cotton bikini panties, tee shirt, and bra.I guess I should take a moment to explain something. I was taught a long time ago that there is a particular way nympho humiliation pain sluts are supposed to describe what they are wearing. First we start at our feet and you go up, outer, then inner. This gives your master or mistress (who may not be present) a visual map of what you are dressed in. It’s also good manners to provide details like color and cut. I don’t ALWAYS do it, but I try, and if I’m private messaging with an online Master or Mistress and they ask what I’m wearing I ALWAYS try to do it properly. My regular attire for a normal day is like what you saw above. After I did my stripping routine at the front of my truck, my attire description goes like this: I’m wearing black strap four inch high heels, a black miniskirt, and a red halter top. Since I didn’t mention panties or bra, it can be assumed I am not wearing them, which I wasn’t. So there you have it: the appropriate way to describe your attire.So while definitely unprepared for a game of strip poker, I was totally ready for a trip to the mall. My purse was slung over my shoulder and my hairbrush was tucked inside with just the handle sticking out at an angle.I’m getting used to doing things at this mall. It wouldn’t surprise me if certain store clerks recognized me. I’m up here so often wearing provocative clothing that I’m sure I’m building up a reputation. Besides, the last time I was here I cut off all my clothing and left it in various dressing rooms around the place.But today I parked near the Rainforest Café and made my way to the Food Court. Oddly enough, this food court is actually a center crossover at the mall and is huge. There are no “booths”. There are no private “corners”. There are only tables and the best you can do is pick a table that is as far away from the other diners as possible, choose a seat that will be least likely to allow you to be seen, and do it.I sat down at the table, my stress level shooting through the roof. I pulled out my brush and set it on the table, heart thumping, and I spent a few minutes thinking about what I was about to do. One thing was sure: it would be easy to push it in, since I was practically gushing. I had worn my super short skirt so I doubted I was leaving a wet spot on the cloth, though I admit the wooden seat of the chair was in questionable danger. Finally I summoned up the necessary courage to do it and grabbed hold of my brush. I ran it through the hair on my head a few times and then, with what I hoped was a nonchalant movement, put it in my lap.No one seemed to notice or care, which was the way I wanted it. Besides, a girl brushing her hair is rather a non-event, isn’t it? But what about a girl pushing said hair brush up inside her? I knew that the next part was the clincher. Slowly, I pulled the hem of my skirt up until the majority of my thighs were visible to me between the table and my stomach. Then I spread my legs as far as the skirt allowed me, which was quite far since my skirt was a very elastic material that hugged and wrapped around my butt and legs. I’m sure I looked very unlady like, except for the very ladylike parts now surely visible from the right angle.I took hold of the hair brush and turned it inward so that the top was at my pussy. I couldn’t help wiggling it a few times, letting the prickly bristles tap my clit. That was a mistake because it almost made me cum and certainly got a decent gasp out of me. My eyes locked onto every person walking by, sure that they had either heard or seen me. But I guess people are rather oblivious because despite the fact I was sitting in the middle of a wide open space surrounded by shops and stores and tables and diners, no one seemed to notice or care that a semi-attractive girl wearing black strap high heels, a super short mini-skirt, and a red halter top was sitting with her legs spread wide, one hand between her legs, tapping her clit with a bristle brush.Or maybe they did notice and were just waiting for Act II.I lowered the tip of the brush and began working it in, twisting it slowly as the bristles collapsed and were compressed by the forced entry. As the first inch went in I shuddered, my thighs trembling in passion as my pussy tightened around the arguably odd dildo. The interesting thing about fucking cylindrical hair brushes is that you don’t feel any prickles when it’s going in. The bristles all compress back down along the edge as you push it in. It’s AFTERWARD, when you are either going to pump with it or tug it backward just a little that all of the bristles pop out inside you, creating a pin prick feeling that not even my spiked dildo can duplicate.Of course after the first inch the rest is easy and I rammed the hair brush into my body with a sigh of relief. I didn’t immediately set the brush, which basically means yanking it back out slightly, causing the bristles to pop into position, but a few already were returning to their normal angle because of the extra space inside my pussy. I could feel them. Instead I put both hands on the table and sat there for a bit, trying to look normal.After a few minutes and lack of law enforcement or security figures, I reached down and quickly “set” the hair brush. Now a description of my attire would be as follows: 4 inch black strap open toed high heels, black super-short mini-skirt, large bristle cylindrical hairbrush, and a red halter top. With the slightest move of my hips I could feel all of the hundreds of little bristles rubbing against the interior walls of my pussy. For a moment, I thought about masturbating, but then decided it was too risky. Slowly, gingerly, I got to my feet, trying not to jam the handle into my thighs and dealing with a persistent irritant inside me. I pushed down my skirt and with a glance realized that about a half an inch of handle was visible between my legs. Oh well.Circumference is defined as the outer boundary or perimeter of an object, most especially a circle. Used in terms describing a mall, it could mean either the outside walls of the mall and its anchor stores, or the interior walkway. I presumed that Master Brandon wanted me to walk the interior perimeter, which thankfully is a shorter distance despite the fact that there are tons more people. So I took a right hand turn and began my walk.The first thing I noticed was that I was walking funny. I couldn’t take large or even normal steps due to my very strange embedded make-shift dildo. If I did it seemed to painfully jab me either internally or ramming the end of the brush into my thigh. So I ended up moving in this short little step, waddle kind of thing which I’m sure attracted even more attention. HEY! Look at that funny girl walk? I wonder what she’s got up her ass making her walk like that?After a quarter of the way around the mall I was experiencing some rather different inside me. Evidently cylindrical hairbrushes were not made to be inserted into a pussy and used to stimulate sexual response on a long walk. Or maybe I should say that pussies were not made to be penetrated by cylindrical hairbrushes and used to stimulate sexual response on a long walk. To be honest, I was getting chaffed, but INSIDE. How’s that for weird. You see, the brush didn’t move up and down when I walked, like a thrusting cock. It moves back and forth, as if someone was stirring me. This caused the bristles to really twist inside me, literally scrubbing my insides. It made me tender, it even hurt a little bit, and that combined with what I was doing made me want to cum.I stopped at a bench and sat down, trying hard to master myself. I was breathing a little heavy, I couldn’t close my legs to main decency, and I’m pretty sure I was flushed. It was practically everything I could do to keep myself from grabbing hold of the handle and pumping madly, right there in front of everyone. It took about ten minutes or so, but I finally felt okay enough to continue, rising to my feet and moving off down the corridor.The sensation of having my pussy scrubbed returned even quicker the next time and I moved closer to the wall, frequently putting out a hand to steady myself as I stumbled. I’m sure the expression on my face was intriguing, since I was now hovering in that strange world between orgasmic bliss and excruciating pain. I didn’t even make it to the half way point before I let out a loud and literally exploded on my feet, leaning up against a wall.Evidently the quickest way to attract attention to yourself is to experience a pain and humiliation induced orgasm in public. Next thing I knew a very handsome middle eastern man from one of kiosks came up to me and inquired if I was all right. Regaining some sense of dignity I nodded, told him I felt just a bit woozy and should probably sit down. There wasn’t a bench nearby so he led me to his kiosk where there was a nice director’s chair waiting for me. Unfortunately it was the kind that boosted you up to be on eye level with your customers. I didn’t even think about that until after I had climbed up into the canvas seat, experiencing another dizzying wave piercing pleasure.“Maybe I should call Mall Security.” The man said, concern clearly written on his face. The word security brought me out of my orgasm induced euphoria and cleared my thinking. Nothing scares me more than people in uniform with badges. You hear stories of brutal strip and body cavity searches, of cops groping their arrested suspects, of bent over the trunk rapes, but those things are the exception, not the rule, and if ten percent of all cops are bad and totally willing to do those things to you, then ninety percent aren’t, and that meant my chance of getting this honorable but slightly suspicious knight of the law investigating the nature of my illness, or worse, calling an ambulance. Could you imagine it?“So, what’s wrong with her?” asks the security guard.The paramedic shrugs. “She’s got a hairbrush in her vagina.”“Excuse me?”“She has a hairbrush up in her vagina.”“You’re kidding me.”“Nope. Here, look.” The paramedic lifts my skirt, showing the security officer the pale handle of the brush extruding out of my shaved petals.“Well, I’ll be damned. She does have a hairbrush up in her vagina. Why would she do that?”The paramedic shrugs. “Beats the hell out of me. Must be one of those weird sexual perverts who thinks she’s a nympho humiliation pain slut.”See? See how BAD that would be? And what would happen next? Would he yank the brush out? Would I be arrested? So many things to consider. And of course I wouldn’t get the BAD security officer or paramedic who would grab the brush and pump it in and out while rubbing my clit rapidly back and forth, would I?So I snapped out of it and told my concerned kiosk clerk that I was fine and that I just needed to rest for a moment and then go home. He nodded, but still kept an eye on me. I sat patiently for a few minutes when suddenly the clerk looked at me, suspicion in his eyes.“What is that between your legs?” He asked.So much for delicacy. I pressed my thighs together, feeling the brush handle jam into my flesh and I tried to adopt a “huh?” look. I forgot to take into account the height of my chair. Worse, I could feel my juices leaking out of my pussy, no doubt leaving a dramatic wet spot on my host’s canvas chair.“What is going on?” He asked again in his clipped accent. I bit my lip, debating on my options and finally reached out a hand and pulled him close. His stomach bumped into my knees.“You want the truth? Okay. I am a nympho humiliation pain slut and I happen to have a hairbrush stuck up into my pussy right now. It hurts a bit, but it keeps making me orgasm, which is why I was swooning up against the wall a moment ago.”Evidently you don’t hear this in Iran or Iraq or Syria or where ever this guy came from. His eyes widened like saucers and he blinked, clearly at odds with what I had just told him.“I LOVE America!” He suddenly said, his face beaming into a huge smile. “Can I see?”Whoa…what the hell? Not the reaction I was expecting. But I only hesitated a moment before nodding and slowly opening up. My skirt had ridden up a bit already so just moving my knees apart was all that was needed to let him get a glimpse of a rather puffy, swollen, wet slit.“Oh! American women are such sluts! Can I touch it?” He asked, the excitement in his voice apparent. I glanced once around the kiosk and saw that there was no one really around so I nodded.The touch of his hand on the handle was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Everything was reignited, flaming up to previous levels. But my Arab friend didn’t just wiggle the handle around, he pulled it halfway out and then thrust it back in again. I cried out, jumping in my seat. Evidently he liked that too because he was suddenly pumping the brush in and out of my pussy hard and fast, two words I rarely use to describe sex. Michael once told me that only the worst authors use “hard and fast” when describing a sexual act and supposedly the only way it could be worse if you used “harder and faster” afterwards.But what can I say? He pumped the brush into me hard and fast and then when I grabbed his shoulders, practically bucking in the seat he thrust the brush into me harder and faster. I came with my hand in my mouth, horrified that some mall walker would notice, or the vendor a few dozen feet away. It was a violent orgasm, filled with a spreading heat the blossomed between my legs and forced me to wrap my arms around my kiosk clerk as my body shook in that gray area between agony and ecstasy that only pain sluts can enjoy. Oh wait, pain sluts and every guy on the planet.I spent maybe a whole minute or two calming down, dealing with the sensations, my head on his shoulder. After a while I was able to sit erect and I could still feel his hand on the hairbrush handle. The slight movement sent more tingles through me and I reached down and gripped his hand.“Do you want me to pull it out?” He asked.I shook my head. “I can’t. It has to stay in until I walk the whole mall and then back to my truck.”“You make me hard as a rock.” He said, his imperfect English perfectly understandable. “I want to fuck you.”I nodded. I hear that a lot. I looked around his kiosk. “Not much privacy here.” I replied, thinking this would be the killer. His eyes went wide and he suddenly left me sitting there, walking away to the next kiosk where a pretty dark eyed Asian girl was sitting. They spoke together for a moment and then she glanced back at me and nodded. Then my kiosk clerk was practically running toward me.“She will watch my shop. Come!” And he grabbed my hand.The next twenty or so steps, being dragged behind this man were almost pure agony for me. The waves of pleasure were gone and I just felt the renewed pain as the brush stroked my insides. I was lead to a back corridor which stretched off into the bowels of the mall and in moments I found myself tucked away in some sort of loading dock or store room, crammed full of those large floor washing machines. My clerk pushed me up against the wall, his hands now freely roaming over my body and I felt my halter top rise and his fingers pinching my nipples. I groaned and his mouth was on mine and I kissed him back as I felt the renewed energy of sexual need pulse through me. Then his hand was at my skirt, lifting it, grabbing hold of the brush. He pumped it a few times, causing me to squeal and buck and then he tugged it completely out, dropping it on the floor. I gasped, totally shocked to find my pussy empty. I slid downward to my knees, my sex clenching tightly around nothing, only to find my clerk’s dick pressing against my lips.So I sucked on him. Did a pretty good job too. I was close to making him pop when he too dropped to his knees and positioned me on my back, legs propped up, with him between them. I did manage to get him to wait long enough for me to pull a condom out of my purse and get it on him, but then he plunged himself into my pussy like a mad hairdresser. (Okay, so that metaphor didn’t exactly work out. Sorry). To be honest, it was incredible. I NEEDED it. I matched him, rising up and outward as my pussy felt the soft but ridged thrusts of incredible sex. It was SO much better than the hairbrush.And then he came, softening almost immediately afterward. I groaned, knowing that we were practically done and that I wasn’t going to find release. I felt him pull out and I think I wept in frustration. There is nothing worse than being sexually tortured, finding release, being built back up and dealing with almost exactly the same tension as before. At least I didn’t have the hair brush inside me.My clerk got up onto his knees and pulled his trousers back into position after stripping off his condom and dumping it on the concrete floor. I stayed where I was, legs spread, my skirt around my waist, my halter top around my neck, and the wet hair brush on the concrete next to me.Then to my astonishment, the clerk picked up the brush, brought it back to my pussy, and slowly twisted it in, driving it deeply into my wet sopping hole. It felt as if my pussy were being ripped open, a sensation that when combined with my overwhelming need for release created a whole new flood of emotions.“You still have to finish your walk around the mall.” He said, his voice a mixture of awe and thankfulness. He reached out and lifted me to my feet, ignoring the wince I made when the bristles of my brush caressed the insides of my body once again. I was lead back to the main mall and by the time I stepped into the common mall area, my pussy was leaking, I was desperate for orgasm, and there was this underlying current of sexual agony spreading slowly through my loins.I got a pat on the butt, a sly smile, and heard another muttered comment about “American girls” and then he returned to his kiosk. I admit I harbored a few cold thoughts in my heart at that particular moment, and was only appeased a little when the clerk discovered the nasty wetspot on his chair. He looked back at me and I waved and grinned, and then proceeded to walk away.My anger kept me going for most of the way, but I admit by the time I made it back to the food court I made a quick detour for the women’s restroom. There I found my hair mussed, my halter askew and showing a bit too much cleavage, my skirt rumpled and barely covering my ass. I made it to a stall just before breaking down and plunged my hands between my legs, pumping the brush like mad with one hand while the other did things to my clit I can’t even describe properly.I know I was pretty noisy, but thankfully there wasn’t anyone else in the bathroom. I came rather hard, especially when I practically pulled the brush completely out and then smashed it back in…or when I spanked my clit with the prickly end. All I remember was being this loose glob of human gelatin, totally worn out, sore, tender, hurting, and happy.I rested there in the bathroom for like twenty minutes before I had the will power to put the brush back in my pussy for the walk out to the truck. It was almost too much to bear. It hurt, a lot. And I winced and waddled my way out to the truck, barely able to walk. But I managed. When I got there I tugged the brush loose and tossed it on the floorboards where it left a wet smear of pussy juice. I hopped up into the seat and just sat there, tired, resting.Then I drove home. What a trip. But I think it will be a while before I use that brush again!
Friday, March 26 2010 Today’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Brandon) Today you will proceed to your stripping spot and remove your clothing. You will then put on a mini skirt and a halter top. No panties. You will bring your cylindrical hair brush. If you no longer have that brush you will go and buy one. You will then proceed to the mall and go to the food court. Once there, you will find an out of the way corner, table, or booth, and insert the bristle end of the brush into your pussy. You may masturbate if you desire. You must then walk the entire circumference of the mall and then out to your vehicle before you can remove the brush.Yesterday’s Results: (Assigned by Master Mark) Dress in skirt and no panties. Shirt can be your choice. Wear your high heels. Find an object that will serve well as a paddle. Take it with you and drive to your mall. Approach five different people *your choice* and ask them each to give you five swats. Be sincere, be polite, and if they are initially resistant you can offer them each a blowjob if they spank you first. The goal of this assignment is to see how many spanks you receive.I was quite intrigued by this assignment and spent some time thinking of the perfect paddle to take with me.
I wanted something that would be unobtrusive but still visible, sparking the invariable thought “why is she carrying around that thing?” I thought about bringing a ruler, or a yard stick, but decided those items were too unobtrusive. Everyone would think that sexy girl wanted to measure something, not that she wanted to be spanked. Even if I wore my shortest skirt I wouldn’t get much more than a glance.What would have been best was a real paddle. You know, the kind with holes drilled in it so it stings more? A good length, like a foot and a half, made of solid wood. No questionable use there. Everyone would know EXACTLY what it was for. But I don’t happen to own one. I mean seriously, you can’t spank yourself, not really. So when I moved out of Kari’s apartment four and a half years ago I didn’t take the paddle with me. Besides, technically it was hers. She bought it.
This is exactly like Kari's Paddle. Imagine seeing a slut walking around with this!
My fourth and fifth targets were together: two guys chatting. They looked preppy, maybe seniors in high school, maybe freshman or sophomores in college. I couldn’t tell. I approached, made my offer, and was practically carried off into Abercrombie & Fitch. In seconds I found myself in a back stall with one while the other stood as lookout. I turned around, put my hands on the wall, arched my back, and tugged my skirt up.First I was groped. Then I was hand spanked. Then I was finger fucked. Then I was ordered to give a blowjob before he would spank me. As ordered, I got down on my knees, wrapped my lips around sweet cock, and brought him right to the edge. He pulled out right before I was about to cum and spurted a thick glob of cream right across my face and chest, splattering my halter top and leaving glistening trails on my skin. Then he spun me around and gave me a sloppy spanking. I didn’t object. My butt wasn’t that tender, but I didn’t want to argue. My tormentor seemed to have a bit of a one track mind. I was handed off after wiping some of his spooge from my face and neck and was forced to give a repeat performance for his friend.But in the end I got twenty spanks, not including the five I got from Kari, and four out of five people agreed to punish me, so I think that meets the goals of the assignment pretty well.Pleased with myself, yet suffering from a horrible itch between my legs, I took my paddle and cum soaked shirt and headed for Kari’s place. Once more I mounted the steps up to her apartment and knocked on the door. I was already in the process of undressing when Robert answered, still naked except for his little harness. I handed him my shirt and he grimaced, seeing the splattered cum squirts across it. He dropped it on the foyer floor and then accepted my skirt gracefully.I put the paddle on the table and followed him as he led me to the bathroom. I still hadn’t seen Kari, but he started the shower for me and told me to clean up. I took advantage of his generosity and let the warm water cleanse me of the remaining bodily fluids that had been squirted on me during the evening. A soft fluffy expensive towel was waiting for me when I got out and I dried off and padded out into the apartment, still totally naked, looking to see if Robert was busy or where Kari might be.As it turned out, Robert was tied up. Literally. He was bound to the coffee table in the middle of the living room, spread-eagled and face up. The table was quite big enough so his legs were bent in half under the wooden platform, but he appeared comfortable enough. Kari was sitting on the sofa reading a magazine and clearly waiting for me. She motioned me over and pulled me across her lap, bottoms up, her long elegant fingers clutching my bottom and checking for welts and tenderness. I squirmed a bit as she dug her fingers into a few particular sore spots, but for the most part I weathered the examination well.“You will sit on Robert’s face.” Kari suddenly ordered, pushing me off the couch so that I landed unceremoniously on my butt. Scrambling to my feet I moved to the end of the coffee table and Robert’s head and straddled him, squatting down until my wet pussy pressed quite firmly into his mouth and chin. I faced his feet and could see his poor cock wrapped in leather and bent so that he couldn’t even get a hard on. Or if he did it would be pure agony. Oddly enough, the tip of his cock was completely exposed. His tongue felt incredible, especially since he immediately began licking me, running his tongue up and down the length of my slit and paying special attention to my clit. That was one thing Kari was really good at producing: guys who loved to eat pussy and were good at it.Then Kari grabbed the paddle and ordered me to lie down across Robert, keeping my pussy in his face. I did as told and found my lips within kissing of the tip of his cock. Kari’s next order was explicit. Keep sucking on his tip, licking it, until she stopped. I was just about to ask “until what stops?”Then she slammed the paddle into my butt, right above Robert’s sucking licking mouth and I shuddered.Oh. Until the spanking stops.I wish it never had.
Thursday, March 25, 2010Today’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Mark) Dress in skirt and no panties. Shirt can be your choice. Wear your high heels. Find an object that will serve well as a paddle. Take it with you and drive to your mall. Approach five different people *your choice* and ask them each to give you five swats. Be sincere, be polite, and if they are initially resistant you can offer them each a blowjob if they spank you first. The goal of this assignment is to see how many spanks you receive.Yesterday’s Results:(Assigned by Master Brandon) You will pack a picnic lunch today lunch for today, along with vibroballs and body lotion. You will wear high heels, a mini skirt, and a special shirt. The shirt must be see through, either gauze or mesh. If you don’t have one, you need to go and buy one. It doesn’t matter what color it is provided that your body can be seen under it. Do not wear panties. You will drive to either a park (if it isn’t raining) or the mall. Before getting out of your car you will insert the vibroballs, turn them to medium, and stick the control into the waist band of your skirt with the wire running OUTSIDE your skirt. Find your picnic spot and eat your lunch. Talk amenably to anyone who approaches you. If anyone uses the words “beautiful breasts” you are to remove the lotion from your pack and ask them to lube your breasts. When you are done with your lunch, turn the vibroballs to high and proceed back to your car. The assignment will then be over.Almost every morning I get an email from Master Brandon (my email is breannefun@yahoo.com in case anyone wants to email me.) Inside each communication is another assignment. And almost every time I flinch or cringe since Master Brandon’s assignments are usually pain filled trials. I have weeks of assignments from Master Brandon, and the only good thing I can say is that at least I have the power to space the assignments out, rather than endure them all day after day. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to do that. Geeze, I can just imagine what is personal sub endures every morning. In any event, I do my best to alternate painful assignments with humiliating or non-painful ones. That gives me a break. So I was VERY surprised to get this assignment on Monay in the mail and I thought it would be a perfect way to rest my brutalized butt after Master Brandon’s totally evil and cruel butt plug hell day assignment. I’m still sore there.So I packed a picnic lunch. I’m rather partial to the sandwich and this morning I made tuna fish salad with sweet relish, cheddar cheese, and mayo, with just a bit of dill. It was awesome. That went on two slices of whole wheat bread and I filled a plastic baggie with a handful of original SunChips, and packed a few Oreo Cookies. Then I headed upstairs to gather my outfit. For some reason this seemed harder. The main reason it was harder was because I happen to have several see thru shirts. I’ve got this nice white long sleeved one with a fine mesh gauze that was meant to be worn over another shirt. I’ve got a black wide mesh one that looks more like a net, and lastly a new one that I bought while shopping with Mistress Sara last weekend at wetSeal. It’s a black flower print shirt that supposed to be worn with a camisole underneath. So which one to wear?Well all three had pros and cons. The white one was totally see thru, but had trouble closing since it closed up the front and only came with a thin white belt of the same material to hold it closed. That meant it would be open all the time. The black fishnet shirt was a real shirt, but the holes were so big between the threads that every time I’ve worn it my nipples have popped out through the spaces. The wetSeal shirt did the most to conceal things, and was the sexiest, but had a similar problem as the black fishnet, but only on the right side.It’s times like this when I wish I could post a poll and go “which shirt should I wear?” So instead I emailed Master Brandon and he selected the black fishnet. Sigh. Of course. So I rolled it up along with my vibroballs, mini skirt, and black strap high heels and stuck it in my bag. I grabbed my bottle of lotion (just in case) and headed out for lunch.It wasn’t raining, which meant I got to go to the park, rather than the mall, and let me tell you, I was VERY pleased about that. The mall would be busy, or at least busy enough for my attire to attract A LOT of attention. So my first order of business was to get dressed. You don’t dress like a slut and then walk by your farther. It’s just stupid. So once again I found myself parking on the south side of our farm, pulled over on the side of the road. I walked to the front of the truck, carefully unbuttoned my shirt, took it off, folded it, and placed it on the hood. Next came my boots, jeans, socks, bra, and panties.
I strapped on the high heels next, which I thought very daring. I mean, most girls would probably have put the skirt on first, right? When I was fully strapped in, I grabbed my skirt and was in the process of pulling it up when I heard, for the first time, the growl of a vehicle approaching. I looked up and saw another truck barreling down the road on my side. I managed to get my skirt up just in time as it roared past. My head followed it and I saw the brake lights come on and it came to a stop. Awww…chivalry.It backed up and the next thing I knew I was looking at an open mouthed thirty something year old guy wearing jeans and a tee shirt. And he was staring at my bare breasts. With a smile, I stepped over to his truck and he leaned over and cranked the window down. I deliberately let my tits sit on the side of the passenger door as I leaned over.It was clear he didn’t know what to say. I knew what was going through his head. It was either “Having car trouble?” or “nice tits.” To my surprise he selected the first one. I laughed.“Nope, just getting dressed for a picnic lunch.” I replied. He dragged his eyes away from my breasts and looked at my face for just a second before letting them settle back on my nipples.“Well if you want company, I’d love to picnic with you.” He said.I stopped and considered this. He seemed like a nice decent guy, mature, friendly. If I let him come, or went with him, on my picnic, it seemed highly unlikely that I would be approached by anyone else, but I had to ask myself, would I be approached after the first guy sat his ass down anyway? I wondered too myself what Master Brandon would like me to do and I made a spur of the moment decision. I reached into my truck, grabbed my bag, locked up everything, and joined my new picnic partner in his pickup.“I’m David.” He told me. I examined David now that I could see a bit more of him and he was relatively slim, smelled a bit like horses (which I don’t mind), and was wearing an outfit that could have been my usual attire if cut a bit differently. He wore a baseball cap rather than a cowboy hat which made him more of a farmer than a rancher, but since I do a little of both it wasn’t that big of a deal. He was clean cut, clean shaved, and had a strong jaw. Even better, he had these really awesome crystal blue eyes.“I’m Breanne.” I told him. I debated on whether I should add my title, and decided that I didn’t want to scare him and dump me on the side of the road. Already, my truck was at least a mile behind us.“So where are we going to eat?” He asked, his fingers tight around the wheel.I shrugged and reached down between my legs and scooped my bag off the floor. “Where ever you want. I only have enough for me, since I wasn’t planning on company, so you may want to pick yourself up some food.” I watched him nod and pulled out my vibroballs.I thought he was going to lose control of truck for a moment as I pulled up my skirt. Obviously I wasn’t wearing panties and my quite moist and shaved slit gaped open as I propped one leg up on the seat. David’s eyes widened in shock as I slipped the two ovid spheres into my pussy right in front of him and then twisted the dial up to maximum, filling the cab with a slight and muffled buzzing sound. Then I pushed my skirt back into place and tucked the control box into my waistband.“Interesting accessory” he said, dragging his eyes back to the road. I laughed. Evidently David has a way with words.“It’s part of the assignment” I replied. “I have to wear it while on my picnic.”“Assignment?”And that started it off. I explained who I was, what I did, how I did it, and all the gory sexy details in between. He listened in rapt astonishment punctuated with frequent glances at my fishnet shirt contained breasts. At some point my nipples had hardened into two raised bumps that stuck out obscenely through the fishnet holes.“And so you do these assignments every day?” He asked finally.I nodded. “Yep. I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut.” I stated it proudly.There was a pause and then a muted “holy shit.”I ignored the stares and crazy looks we got as we crossed across town. There were even a few honks and David pulled through a BBQ place to get some lunch for himself before we headed out I made no effort to cover myself and frankly, with the mad buzzing between my legs I was actually getting close to an orgasm. David turned us back north and spent several minutes navigating his way up and down roads I had never had the opportunity to travel. Oh…I still knew where I was, I just didn’t know where David was taking me. We finally pulled onto a dirt road that led off into some scrub forest, which frankly is unusual for this part of Texas. We parked and David got out, grabbing hold of a large blanket (I love a prepared man!) and I gingerly got out of the truck and grabbed our lunches.Together we walked out under the trees. Despite a gray cloudy day that was slightly cool (and boy was certain parts of my anatomy responding to the temperature) and a weather forecast that threatened rain, we were lucky to find a sunny patch in a recently mowed clearing surrounded by trees, a little measure of privacy in a landscape filled with people. David laid out our blanket and I went down upon it, rolling onto my stomach, hiding my breasts but immediately exposing my rear end when my skirt slipped up. I didn’t do anything about it.David sat down next to me and I watched him lift a hand. He ignored his food and lightly touched my bottom, stroking his fingers along the curved flesh. I gave him my million watt please fuck me silly smile and the next thing I knew he was kneading my bottom with his hands. This, combined with the still buzzing vibroballs took its inevitable toll and I moaned loudly, desperately. To my surprise David rolled me over, hands touching my breasts and then sliding down to fumble at the waistband of my skirt. I helped him remove it and the vibroball control went flying, tethered to me by the little electrical wires that disappeared up between my legs. He moved on top of me, his mouth kissing and then I gasped as his tongue lapped at my hard nipples poking out through my shirt. He moved downward until I felt his tongue touch my clit and he started licking.Oh my. A man who likes to eat pussy. I was in heaven. I spread my legs for him and shuddered my way through my first orgasm. To be honest, I was practically already there thanks to the exposure and stimulation I had been enduring since I got into his truck, but the direct application of tongue on clit has an effect like nothing else. I was gasping and then yelling my supplication and explosion.Which was all well and good because the next thing I knew David was unbuckling his pants. I sat up, helping, and managed to get his cock out in seconds flat. Then it was in my mouth and I proceeded to suck and lick and blow until I thought David was going to erupt and squirt down my mouth. It took only a few seconds to retrieve a condom from my purse and I put it on him with my mouth, which is a skill that took me a long time to master. Kari had made me learn it years ago, literally with her boyfriend tied down to the bed while I took condom after condom and applied them between whippings and direct clit stimulation.So David knew I had applied the condom, but it was done so expertly it wasn’t even an issue. This is always important. It’s the mark of a professional. Uh…well…I don’t mean a “professional” like in the way hookers are professional. Professional as in professional nympho humiliation pain slut professional.When David was ready I tugged loose the vibroballs and rolled over, presenting my ass with a little wiggle. David moved up behind me and I felt his cock press up against my pussy and then slide in through the already pre-moistened, wet, sopping, sex-soaked entrance and then I gasped as he filled me completely.It’s been a while since I had real sex with a real guy. It was nice. It was sweet. It was fulfilling. David came relatively quick, but that didn’t matter since I had already come as well. I felt the ripple inside of me, the granite pillar erupting and heard the grunt of pleasure come from David’s throat. Even better he stayed inside me until he got soft, an extra minute of intimacy that I ALWAYS appreciate.In fact, it was me who broke our connection, pulling away and turning around, pulling him to the ground, moving atop him. His glassy-eyed stare was darling and I tugged the condom off and tossed it away. Then I started working on him again. I think that surprised him most of all. I licked away the remnants of cum along his shaft and then stroked and licked him back to full power. It took almost a full ten minutes, maybe even fifteen, but it was worth it and I put a new condom on him. Then I straddled him, twisting across his body until I lay crosswise on his lap, his cock buried askew within me.“Spank me” I pleaded. “Spank me until I’m crying.” I whispered. David brought his hand down upon my ass and I felt the heat of the impact. It caused me to bounce up and down on his cock and I squeezed him hard.“Again!” I yelled and a flurry of spanks came exploding across both butt cheeks like hammer taps. I felt my body contract and I grabbed his right hand and brought it to my nipple even as his left smacked into me again, rocking me forward and up and down.“Pinch it! Pinch it as hard as you can!” I said, this time squeezing the fingers flicking at my nipple. David did as I asked, as I begged and another shoot of delicious pain erupted into being at my bosom and raced down to meet the sting and heat of my spanking. I shuddered and groaned and moved up and down and the exploded again in a teeth gritting orgasm that left me breathless.David sensed when it was time to stop and he held me and stroked me as I slowly rotated back so that we lay face to face, me straddling him. I continued to move my hips, keeping his second erection full and ready. I hummed in content and then sat up, peeling my fishnet stocking shirt from body and letting him see me completely naked, except for the high heels, for the first time.Okay, okay, it didn’t really matter. The fishnet shirt WAS see thru, in a very provocative way and frankly he had already seen everything I had to offer. But it was an ACT of SUBMISSION. That was what was important. I began moving more explicitly as his fingers and mouth found my nipples. It didn’t take long before he filled a second condom, straining and groaning beneath me.Sticky, naked, and satisfied we separated and laughingly opened our various lunches, eating, talking, and occasionally sharing a fond caress or nibble. Evidently my breasts are especially desirable when covered in barbecue sauce. Who knew?After our lunch I squirmed back into my fishnet shirt and skirt and grabbed hold of my vibroballs. To David’s surprise they went back in and I tucked the control into my waistband, twisting it to full power. He couldn’t help shaking his head as the buzzing filled the air like bees.“I guess you really are a nympho pain humiliation slut” he said. I nodded and hand in hand we walked back to the truck.Our ride back to my pickup was intense. David asked me out on a date and after I politely declined he was a little put out. I explained a few things to him and with a promise of calling him if I needed assistance with any of my other assignments he dropped me off at my truck with his phone number tucked thoughtfully into my purse.He stayed right there too as I got my jeans and shirt and boots out of the cab and walked to the front of the truck. I peeled off my fishnet shirt and folded it, totally aware that I had an audience as I placed it gently on the hood. Next came my skirt which left me standing naked in high heels with a white wire leading from my pussy to a small control box sitting on the truck bumper. I unclasped my high heels, which let me tell you was difficult and time consuming, but then managed to give David a grin as I pulled on my socks. I left the vibroballs in, on high, as I pulled up my panties. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted too. Master Brandon didn’t say I COULDN’T, did he? Exactly. So then I put on my bra, jeans, shirt, and then boots.I tossed my slut outfit into the truck and walked back to David’s open window, leaning in for a soft kiss.“You really are a cowgirl, aren’t you?” he said with a smile.“Born and bred, Texas true.” I replied with a matching grin.“So will you call me?” He asked. I could tell he really wanted me too.I smiled. “Next time I need a good pussy whipping.” The startled look in his eyes made it worth it. “See ya round, David.”And then I hopped in my truck and drove away.I still have that number by the way.And I plan to use it.
Wednesday. March 31, 2010 
