A couple of things came up. First of all, I was recovering from last Sunday, which if you read the last bit I posted should be fairly explanatory. Seriously, who ISN’T sore after having endured twelve hours of being stuffed, vibrated, and forced to orgasm multiple times? Second, we had ourselves a little bit of a natural disaster down here. A couple of our fields got flooded, and that required a bit of hands on work. Lastly, I wasn’t feeling up to it and I think we can leave it at that.
Monday however changed all that. Of course it was all precipitated by a conversation with Master Barrett. We were discussing Kari’s awesome gift of the chastity/torment belt and Master Barrett wanted my first time back in the interesting toy to be something worthwhile. I agreed and after a few minutes a rather disturbing, sexually exciting, and incredibly naughty assignment emerged.
Breanne, start off by stripping, extracting whatever is currently inside you, put on your chastity belt, daisy duke shorts, a cut off tee shirt, no bra, and flip flops and drive to the mall. Once there turn on the vibrators, with the clit vibrator on high and the dildo on medium. Then go into the mall and find and buy a new pair of jeans, a cigarette lighter, a candy bar, a pack of batteries, a bottle of aspirin, and a hair clip, in that order. Then return to your truck and turn off the vibrators.
Like a horny fool, I immediately agreed to this sexual scavenger hunt and Monday afternoon found me upstairs in my bedroom, stripping out of me jeans, laying out my denim short shorts, cut off tee shirt, and of course, my new chastity/torment belt. Once I was naked, I pulled out the ben wa balls which had been keeping me wet and ready for this assignment all morning, and began the process of slipping on the chastity belt.
There was ONE little modification to the belt made of course. I got to remove the anal plug. I’m just not into having those things up my ass. I’ll tolerate it, but I don’t enjoy it. In any event, the dildo and the little vibrating bump right on my clit were more than enough to set me off. I strapped the waist belt on and the promptly shoved the black dildo up into myself. I was already soaked just thinking about the assignment, so it went in rather easily. I buckled everything in place and then grabbed my shorts. Those went on quick and I discovered that moving while wearing the chastity belt was easy, and that I enjoyed being stuffed like that. Even the bump was slightly arousing in its “off” state.
There was no way I was going to be able to leave the house braless and in my cut off tee shirt, so instead I bundled my shirt up, waved bye to my parents, and jumped in my truck. As soon as I was out of sight of the house, I stripped off my shirt and bra and pulled on the cut off tee. I have to admit the outfit was sort of daring. Even with the flip flops I looked more than unusually slutty. But I guess that’s part of being a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut. You are SUPPOSED to look slutty. Right?
Anyway, dressed for sex and occasionally rolling my hips as I adjusted to the new object buried inside me, I headed for the mall. This was actually a bigger issue than you might imagine. First of all, which mall to go to? I was tempted to go toward Houston. There is a particular mall off of I-10 that I really like. It has a merry-go-round and everything. But what would make it perfect for this assignment was one particular store where I knew I’d be able to find every single one of those items. Of course, Master Barrett said I couldn’t buy those things at the same store, but it would be nice just in case I COULDN’T find one of those items.
But I didn’t go that way. I headed for my own mall right here in town. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because I didn’t want the safety net. Maybe it’s because I was feeling daring. Or maybe it’s because I wanted to fail this assignment.
When I arrived at the mall in town, I parked in front of the sports equipment store and looked around. I was pretty much alone. Monday afternoon? Not that many people around. Plus I’m driving a Ford F-350 SuperCab with tinted windows. Not too much visibility there. So I pushed my jean shorts down my legs, unclipped the cover to the vibrators, and turned the clitoral bump to high and the dildo to medium, just like I was ordered too.
I have to admit, the effects were instantaneous. I felt the rush of sexual euphoria burst through me like a water balloon hitting a chain link fence. I could literally feel myself getting wet, contracting around the dildo, my hips involuntarily thrusting. And I hadn’t even gotten out of the truck yet! I locked the chastity belt and with a very serious application of will power, yanked up my shorts, got everything buttoned up, and then got out of the truck and headed into the mall.
The walk from my truck to the front door was agony. Oh… not like hurt agony, but sexual “oh my god, I’m going to cum and gush right here please rip off my clothes and fuck me silly agony.” It was agony born of desperation and I found myself actually leaning on the wall next to the front door as I tried, rather ineffectively in my mind, to hide the clitoral orgasm that was rocking through me.
Note for future assignments: WALKING with the chastity belt clitoral stimulator on is a quick and easy way to make Breanne cum hard and frequently.
Slightly recovered and with seemingly no one the wiser, I entered the sports equipment store, and began threading my way through its cavernous interior of boats and canoes and compound bows and tennis racquets and tons of stuff. I was only halfway when I finally realized that I was humming, and not from my mouth. I could clearly hear the muted buzz of the vibrators between my legs. I know I flushed because I could feel the heat in my cheeks. It wasn’t terribly loud, but anyone within two or three feet would hear it clearly. I almost turned around to run back to the truck.
The intense sensations in my pussy changed my usual confident walk into a sort of halting mini-step forward roll. Worse, the vibrations on my clit came in pulses, rather than a steady constant. Waves of orgasmic bliss were washing over me and it was only through another application of iron will power that got me moving again.
Things were better once I got into the mall corridors. And they were worse. While it was too loud for anyone to really hear the buzzing of my little mechanical demons, I was dressed like a slut, which immediately turned heads. It also didn’t help that I was walking funny and right now I’m positive that at least every single person who saw me knew immediately that I was stuffed to the brim. My nipples got hard underneath the tee shirt thanks to the air conditioning and I headed off toward my first store. The walk was torture. I came once on the way, stopping to lean on a wall, eyes closed, chest heaving, and attracting stares like a streetlight attracts moths. No one spoke to me.
My first stop was the Gap, which I have to admit is pretty expensive for jeans, but I like the cut. Now I have to tell you, I mentioned I needed a new pair of jeans to Master Barrett, so don’t think he was being a little nasty by requiring me to spend a great deal of money or anything. I grabbed something from off the rack and for a split second considered trying it on. As I turned toward the register to pay, I changed my mind, and made my way to the changing room like a drunken sailor. I buzzed my way into the small closet like space just before my third orgasm brought a gasp to my lips. I flopped down on the seat and just let it rock through me. My fingers scrambled at my shorts but were then stopped short by the chastity belt.
Chastity my ass. It’s a fucking torture belt.
With the key in the truck there was no way to get it off my body, or turn down the vibrators. I closed my eyes, put my head on the wall, and just concentrated on settling down.
After the orgasm, I was able to focus a little more. I was beginning to get used to the buzzing on my clit, though I was also getting a bit more sensitive. I suppose had I been strapped spread-eagled to one of the tables in the food court, I’d have been a little more inclined to give into my sexual urges, but I wasn’t. I gathered myself together, stepped out of the changing room, bought my jeans, and stepped back out into the mall. A quick glance at my list told me I was looking for a cigarette lighter next. I stumbled my way down the mall concourse looking for a likely place to buy one.
It was a long walk. Carrying the bag with my jeans helped, but it was still terribly difficult. Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk when your pussy is violently contracting around an eight inch vibrating dildo? Or when your clit is being rapidly stimulated? Please try to imagine taking a step, and then dealing with this sexualized involuntary thrust of your hips, as if you’re trying desperately to thrust yourself down on cock.
In hindsight, I think that’s what I hate about the belt. No thrusting. It’s just non-stop buzzing. Okay, so I suppose it would be weird me rolling around on a fucking machine, buying shit, but man did I want a good fucking at that point. I was almost a third of the way around the mall when I finally found a newsstand store. I went straight up to the clerk and asked if he sold lighters.
At first he didn’t respond because he was staring at my breasts. I admit, they are nice, though by that time the nipples had gone back down. My cut off tee shirt didn’t reveal anything, but the way it hung out slightly made every guy who saw me want to bend over because the bottoms of my breasts were just barely out of view. He blinked rapidly for a moment and then refocused on my face for a second before giving my breasts the answer.
“Yes we sell them. What color would you like?” He reached behind him to the shelf, his eyes not leaving my chest as his hand fumbled for the lighter. You’d think he’d never seen tits before. Geeze. I told him I didn’t care and he refocused on the purchasing process. Would you believe that little lighter cost me almost three bucks? For a damned lighter? I can buy a pack of them for that much at Wal-Mart! Anyway, I tucked my little “thank you” plastic bag complete with lighter into my Gap bag and paused momentarily when I saw the aspirin bottle on the shelf. Damn.
Realizing that I probably had just eliminated the one store in the entire mall that sold aspirin I went back out and headed toward the candy store. The walk there was just as trying, with me pausing every hundred or so feet to rest, recoup, or orgasm. My fourth orgasm actually occurred in the middle of a mall corridor where I just stopped, gasped, lurched toward the wall, and exploded. My teeth were clenched and my eyes closed. Just as I was finishing, and when I opened my eyes, a nice handsome young man was standing in front of me, a look of concern on his face.
“Are you okay, miss?”
Ahh… chivalry. And of course he was talking to my breasts.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” I replied, trying to pull myself together.
“You look like you’re about to faint” he said, still obviously concerned for my welfare. I guess sick people often say they’re okay. Plus he actually looked at my face.
I shook my head. “It’s okay. I’m not going to faint.” I gave him one of my regular smiles, meant to reassure and not the kind that encourages men to rip off my clothes. He gave me a dubious look. Then his eyes narrowed and he looked around for a moment. A surge of embarrassment flushed through me as I realized he was trying to figure out where the buzzing was coming from. I straightened up quickly, my humiliation giving me a bit more strength.
“Um… thanks for checking on me! Gotta go!” I said brightly and did my best to move away at a reasonable and normal pace. Of course reasonable and normal people aren’t stuffed with vibrators and having their most sensitive sexual parts over stimulated. I’m not sure I convinced him, but like any decent person, he let me teeter off down the mall.
At the candy store I didn’t even make a pretense of selection, just grabbed a chocolate bar, tossed it on the counter, and paid for it. A fat girl was running the place and she seemed bored and oblivious. She did give me one odd look, but I think that was more about my cut off tee shirt than anything else. I took my bar and escaped back out into the mall.
The little toy store wielded up a pack of AA batteries and a compliment from the teenage boy who was running the place. “Nice outfit” was a combination of sarcasm and “I want to rip that tiny shirt off and have my way with your breasts.” You’ve got to read between the lines when you hear this stuff.
By this time I couldn’t walk straight and I went looking for aspirin. I was biting my lip, all while taking tiny steps, pausing after about twenty feet, pressing my thighs together as tightly as possible, then continuing on. I came again, right before I realized that there was only one store in the entire place that sold my next item. Of course this time I got some shocked looks when I came because I just sort of keeled over and leaned against the wall, eyes closed, panting and moaning. My hand was pressed tightly to my groin, my palm pushing against the clitoral vibrator. I flushed crimson when I realized I had an audience and stumbled off, trying to ignore the muttered comments coming from behind me. Slut was the nicest of them, trust me.
At this point I was actually beyond caring that I’d already bought an item at the newsstand store. All I wanted to do was go back out to the truck and turn the damn vibrators off. The clitoral bump being on high is too much. I just can’t handle it. I made it back to the newsstand store, bought the aspirin, much to the clerk’s delighted surprise, and then headed toward a store where I knew I could buy my last item.
When I made it I practically lurched in, much to Julie’s surprise. I had been deliberately planning on getting the hair clips here. Ever since last June, Julie and I have had sort of a on again off again friendship. The first problem is our ages. She’s nineteen. I’m 24. She’s punk goth with all the fixings. I’m a south Texas cowgirl. She listens to that head banger alternative rock stuff that gives you a headache after about sixty seconds. I listen to country and pop rock. She’s a liberal and I’m a …
Well, you get the idea, right?
I’ve stopped by the store a few times, but most of our encounters have been either at her house or out on the dance scene. Julie’s eyes widened as I stumbled in. She was helping another customer though and she only gave me a second’s glance before turning away from me. I lurched to the back of the store, trying desperately not to scream through my sixth or seven orgasm of the afternoon. When Julie was finished she came right up to me, grabbed my arm, and propelled me into the back office.
“What the hell are you doing, slut?” she demanded.
In short, simple, gasp ridden bursts I explained the scavenger hunt. Her expression went from serious, to disbelief, to outright amusement, to dark speculation. Next thing I knew she was ordering me to lift my shirt.
I did. Partly because I’m used to it and partly because I was so horny and so on edge, even after ANOTHER clitoral orgasm that I wanted something. However, I wasn’t expecting what happened next.
Julie lifted her hand and hit me. Hard. Right across my breasts. I didn’t even have time to cover them before she struck again and then I was crossing my arms, covering my chest while tears sprang to my eyes. The pain surged through me and instead of combining with the pleasure between my legs it wiped some of it away. It was too intense and too separate to make things more intense.
I looked at Julie, eyes clearing from the welling tears not to mention the daze of prolonged sexual euphoria. Her expression was dangerous and I knew that if I kept my hands on my tits any longer things would get a lot more painful. I dropped my arms and Julie lifted her hand again. I admit I flinched, but I didn’t stop her as her open hand once more struck me hard.
“Hands behind your neck!” she said, her voice hard. I complied and she continued smacking me. In moments I had completely forgotten about my clit because my breasts were hurting. She didn’t stop until I burst into tears and then she pulled down my cut off tee shirt. My breasts felt huge, as if they were going to burst out of the tight cotton. We went back out into the store and she rang up two small hairclips. I paid and she pulled the cardboard backs off the clips. Then, to my horror, she put the clips went on my nipples, underneath my shirt. I felt the little plastic teeth biting into my areola. Now the whole bottom half of both breasts were clearly visible.
“Please! Julie! I can’t!” I said, horrified at the thought of walking through half the mall with a good portion of my bosom hanging out.
She gave me a look and I immediately stopped protesting.
“That’s better,” she said. “At least I got your mind off your clit.”
I blinked. She had! I flushed crimson again as she waved me out of the store.
“Go! Call me!” she said.
I have little recollection of that last mad dash sprint back to my truck. Yes, I got stared at and I wouldn’t be surprised if a few cell phone pictures of a slut with obviously clamped nipples shows up on the internet. In any event, I even managed to get back through the sportstore without exploding. I was fumbling with the keys to my truck when I came for the last time. Everything tingled, my clit, my pussy, my nipples, even my ass for some strange odd reason. I climbed into my truck, my fingers trembling as I grabbed the key..
I sat there, air conditioner on, perspiration dripping down my forehead, chest heaving, nipples still clamped as I laboriously pushed down my jean short shorts and unlocked the chastity belt. I turned off the vibrators first, relishing the first moment of silence and stillness like a woman in desperate need of cock. My muscles were fatigued and I was still trembling slightly, no doubt aftershocks of my long term exposure to the vibrational hell I’d just endured. I left the chastity belt dildo in, though the vibrators stayed off. I unclipped my nipples, tossing the hair accessories into my shopping bag. Then I headed home.
If everyone doesn’t mind, I’m going to stay away from vibrators for the next week or so. I just can’t take it. Too much. My clit is too sore.
But gosh if that wasn’t fun.
And I found every item on my list.