Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Today’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Brandon) Self-Inflicted Pony. Go to your barn. Get two pieces of rope, two clothespins, a broom or shovel handle, and a weight. Tie one end of the stick to the wall at belly button height. Take the other piece of rope and tie it to the other end of the stick, and toss the rope over a beam in your barn. Tie the weight to it so that the stick points upward. Strip naked. Attach the clothespins to your nipples. Straddle the stick and move down to the end away from the wall. Your pussy should push the stick downward and lift the weight off the ground. You may use your hands to get into proper position. Once there stay in position for twenty minutes. Keep your hands clasped behind your head or behind your back.
Yesterday’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Brandon) Breanne on the Rocks. Make a tray of bottle ice cylinders (the kind of ice cubes that can fit in a sports drink bottle). Every hour starting at noon, retrieve an ice cylinder, go someplace private, and insert it into your pussy. Once inserted, you will masturbate. If you orgasm before the ice is completely melted, you must put dabs of your Hot and Icy cream on your nipples and clit at the beginning of the next session. Do this every hour from noon until eight pm.
When I decided I was ready to start the daily assignments back up, I admit I was excited. You try going a whole week without an orgasm. It sucks. Even during my time of the month I at least THINK about sex. So despite the fading pain in my mouth from my wisdom teeth extraction, I was ready. Seriously ready. I was wet. I was hot. I was horny. I was a nympho pain humiliation slut.
I didn’t have to make the ice. We keep about four trays of those little water bottle ice cylinders. Geeze, I don’t know what else to call them. Bottle ice? Ice cylinders? Ice tubes? Ice dildos? I’ve actually fucked an ice dildo before. One of those long thin balloons fills up quite nicely and then you just stick it in the freezer. I tried condoms once, but evidently they weren’t designed to handle the pressure and temperature of my freezer. I was chipping ice out of the bottom.
I had quite a bit to do yesterday and it was a beautiful day. Noon however is right around lunch time for me, so I decided to start just a little early, like around 11:30. That way I wouldn’t be interrupting a meal. It’s tough when you suddenly get up, leaving a plate full of half eaten sandwich and announce you have to go upstairs and masturbate with an ice dildo.
So I stopped off at the fridge, grabbed my little tube of ice, and headed upstairs. One of our beach towels was filched from the hall closet and I dropped the ice into a glass on my desk and proceeded to strip.
I like being naked. Yep. I know, you’re shocked aren’t you? I guess I could have just taken off my blue jeans and panties, but there is a mental component to masturbation too. For me, I like being naked. I need to have the ability to touch myself everywhere. Position is important too. I like to be laying down, or at least be sitting, usually with my legs open and propped up on either the bed or my desk. I remember once a long time ago when I was doing a little session on webcam with a friend. I shocked the hell out of him when I brought all the ingredients necessary for a banana split right to my computer, stripped naked, propped my feet up on the desk with the camera pointed right between my legs. Then I pushed in a banana. Then added a spoonful of ice cream. Then poured hot fudge on my clit. Then I literally stuck the nozzle of a can of whip cream into my pussy and with just a little bit of manipulation, managed to get it to go off. I’m not sure who got creamed first. Oh…wait…yep. Pretty sure it was me.
Photo Credit: My Favorite Life Blog
So at the desk I pulled up one of my favorite Michael Alexander stories: Heart of Ice. I thought it was appropriate and frankly it stars me anyway. I don’t want to tell you what the story is about, since I don’t want to ruin it for you if you haven’t read it, but it exactly suited my sexual urges that morning, not to mention what I was about to do.
I read a bit until I got to the right part, where my character is about to endure her first icy torment. I was already playing with myself, wet fingers gliding in and out and through. Especially the through part. I like it when my clit is stimulated. Wet and ready, I took hold of the ice cylinder. It was dripping like crazy and just as wet and slick as me. I moved it down, feeling cold little drops sprinkle my stomach and then I pressed it to my clit, searing my most tender spot. I know I gasped. I know I moaned. And then I pushed it into my pussy, tightening around it in spasms of freezing delight. With my right hand I moved it in and out while my left hand found my clit and went crazy. I think I managed five or six thrusts before the ice disappeared into my pussy, slipping from my fingers. I went after it, sticking a few wet cold digits into myself, swirling the pot, but only managing to move the ice around inside me. It was an incredible feeling. Hot and cold all at the same time. I felt the rush, the surge of orgasmic bliss and then I popped, long before the cylinder melted.
Mmmm…that first time was awesome. Slowly I calmed down, slowed my breathing, wiped my hands on the edge of the towel (which I was sitting on) and squirmed just a little as the last vestige of ice disappeared from inside me, to slowly leak out onto the towel. Oohhh. Watered down pussy juice. All in all I think I was done in about twenty minutes, which left me plenty of time to clean up, get dressed, and move my frozen loins downstairs for lunch.
One o’clock found me in the barn with a little portable cooler. I had hoped to make it back out to the tractor (which I had left in one of the south fields) but lunch took longer than I expected. So instead I had to deal with my daily assignment a little closer to home. This time I just tugged my jeans and panties down to my ankles, rubbed myself a bit to get things going, and then squatted down over a hay bale. The little cylinder of ice went in and I sat down. Then I started rocking my hips back and forth, feeling the little prickles of hay against my bottom and pussy. My hand found my clit again and voila, almost instant orgasm. No need for the icyhot! I left a massive wet spot on the hay, toweled myself dry, put my clothes back into place, and headed out to get some more plowing done.
What? Did you think I was the only thing that got plowed on a farm?
Two o’clock came and I almost forgot to do my assignment. I decided to strip for this one. It was pretty warm, around eighty degrees and I was sweating a bit. I stopped the tractor, dismounted, and then stripped. Climbing back up into the seat I reached for my cooler, pulled out a piece of ice and just stuck it in without any sex prep. I admit I was hot, but the instant and immediate application of a shard of ice into an internal cavity didn’t do much to lower my overall body temperature. In fact, my pussy clamped down on it and my abdomen developed a cramp. So while I was dealing with that the ice cylinder melted, all the way. By the time I was ready for some serious sexual playtime, the ice was gone. Oopps. My seat was soaked so I just tossed my jeans and panties into the hamper behind me and went about my plowing.
Driving a tractor while naked from the waist down is a liberating experience. First of all, tractor driving is easier than driving a car. Seriously. You go in a straight line for about half a mile, turn, and then go in a straight line for half a mile. It’s boring. It’s monotonous. It’s much more fun if you aren’t wearing anything from the waist down. I admit my left hand spent a good deal of time between my legs. By the time three o’clock rolled around the seat was still wet, but most of it wasn’t from a melted ice cylinder. I stopped the tractor, reached into the hamper and pulled out my hot and icy cream.
I peeled off my shirt and bra first, enjoying the sensation of being totally nude and outside. Maybe I should become a nudist. I love being naked outside. Oh wait…I have a sexual reaction to being naked outside. That’s probably not very nudist like. I mean seriously, it’s tough to carry on a conversation with other naked people if you are constantly touching yourself, right? Or would they care? Or would I? Is there an embarrassment factor there? Ah…what would Sigmund Freud tell me? “You have a repressed sexual urge centered around your feelings for your mother. Please suck my dick now.”
So once totally naked I uncapped my tube of hot and icy and squeezed a generous dollop onto my finger. Then I took my time slowly rubbing it into my nipples. Almost immediately I could feel the cold, and by the time I was ready to cream my clit, my nipples were tingling. I guess I should admit the fact that hot and icy on my nipples makes me go sexually crazy. The very first time I put this stuff on I discovered it was almost like instant go juice. Adding a bit to my clit is like pouring gasoline on a lit fire.
I grabbed an ice cylinder, my fingers slipping just a bit, and then brought it down between my legs. I spread my legs as wide as the cab would let me and even put one foot up on the door joist. Then it went in. And out. And in. And out. It’s too bad I didn’t have a voice recorder with me. It must have sounded incredible.
I guess it’s not hard to imagine what happened. I came of course. And I rammed the half-melted ice cylinder deep and followed it up with almost my entire hand as my pussy convulsed. I shuddered in the seat, feeling the cold seep through my loins, my muscles contracting. If there had been a cock inside me it would have been perfect.
Four o’clock went almost exactly the same way. So did five o’clock. And know what? I put hot and icy on my nipples and clit both times, despite the fact that I managed to orgasm before the ice melted on both previous occasions. Why did I do it? Because it was awesome. That’s why.
I did get the whole south field plowed though, and you know what else got plowed, repeatedly? Yep. Me. And it was good. Very good.
At ten minutes to six I was back home wondering how I was going to handle the next one. Six o’clock is dinner time. Note to Master Brandon: let’s make these assignments due at the BOTTOM of the hour next time. Not the top. It will make my life much easier.
I didn’t manage to get to my six o’clock masturbation session until almost six fifty, which seemed kind of stupid, not to mention late. I grabbed a fresh ice dildo from the freezer and headed upstairs to the bathroom. I was pretty dusty and dirty from working and masturbating all day, so the shower was a perfect place to do this. I climbed into the shower, turned on the water, sat down on our little safety stool, and propped my legs up on the sides of the tub. I especially like this position because with just a twist to the showerhead, you can change the stream from a wide soft spray to a hard jet, which just happens to be pointed at a certain delicate spot if you sit on the stool.
With seventy five pounds of pressure per square inch striking my clit, I pushed the ice between the wet hot streaming folds of my sex. The dichotomy of cold and hot, all located between my legs, was incredible. I was pretty vocal, moaning my pleasure, biting my lip to keep from crying out as the heat caused the ice to disappear quicker than any other ice session. I didn’t cum until it was gone, and frankly I think my orgasm was caused more by the streaming jet of hot water pointed at my clit.
After cumming, I stood, soaped, cleaned everything, dried off, and got into my pajamas, which consisted of a small pair of cotton shorts, a pair of panties, and a soft tee shirt. It was around seven thirty. So I went downstairs, grabbed a glass, put an ice shard into it, and headed back upstairs to my computer. It was time to finish reading “Heart of Ice”.
I was a little tender, not to mention a little sexed out. I know, strange huh? But come on, I had experienced seven orgasms at this point, each one with liberal amounts of chemical and frictional assistance. I was tender. Give me a break. It took me ten minutes to find my grove, and I’m not talking about my actual grove. I knew where THAT was. I’m talking my mental grove. I had to read almost a full quarter of the story before Michael’s little tale turned me on. And that’s unusual since I get wet pretty much just looking at the title of a Michael Alexander Story. (I swear, I’m not trying to get a raise here Boss, unless it’s a physical one: your cock!)
Right around the part where Shika ends up on the ice herself, legs spread, so that Ms. Poole’s guests can throw snowballs at her tender parts, is where I put in the ice. I love interactive stories. And let me be the first to say that “Heart of Ice” is a lot more interesting when you’re masturbating with an ice dildo. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your perspective) I didn’t cum until well after my ice had melted. That’s the whole problem with these stupid little bottle ice cylinders. They’re like screwing a tiny dick that only gets smaller with every thrust. Next time I need to have like ten real ice dildos made, the kind that’s easily two inches thick and eight inches long. Try masturbating with one of those!
When I finally came it was eight o’clock. Perhaps I should have gone straight back downstairs and grabbed more ice, but I thought that I should warm up just a bit first. So I moved to the bed, grabbed the hot and icy cream, and immediately applied it liberally to my nipples and clit. Then, just for fun, I smeared my vibrator with a bit, spread my legs, turned it to high, and plowed away.
I stopped right before cumming. Aren’t you proud of me? I was soaked again. And I was hot. It was almost eight thirty. I pulled out my vibe, cleaned it off, patted myself dry, got my pajamas, and went to the kitchen.
The rest of the family were in the living room watching television so I managed to sneak my last ice of the day and hurry upstairs with it. I held it in my teeth as I shoved and pushed my pajama bottoms and panties down. Then, standing up right in the middle of my room, I spread my pussy lips with my left hand, my clit burning, and slipped the ice right on in.
I squatted down, my hips churning as I used one finger to drive it in and out. Gravity and lots of lubrication and melting water dripped onto the towel on the floor, but I managed to rapidly piston the little cylinder in and out, wishing it was bigger, wishing it was longer, wishing I was tied spread-eagled to a bed while a crazy woman fucked me stupid with a high density low melting point ice dildo. (Heart of Ice reference there!)
When the ice was gone I grabbed my vibrator, resumed my position, and went to work. Eventually I ended up on my ass, sitting on my wet towel, legs splayed, leaning back against my bed. Ten minutes later I was gasping like a wet fish, tingling all over as my last orgasm of the day washed through me.
When I was ready, I stood up, gathered the wet towel and tossed it into the laundry hamper. A trip to the bathroom and a quick cleanup followed, along with getting dressed again. And there you have it. Eight icy orgasms. So what did I learn from this?
Bottle ice is NOT good for Breanne sex. LOL. I need ice DILDOS!
See ya tomorrow! Have an “ice” day!