Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Can I Cum? Part 3

I have to admit, things might be getting just a tad bit out of hand…

Well, if you aren’t up to speed, you need to get there. That means you need to read part one and part two before you read this. To put it bluntly, you’ll sort of be lost. Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m not allowed to cum unless I ask someone, a stranger, face to face, if I can have permission to orgasm. Worse, I have to cum within one minute of getting permission. Which means I have to stay right on the edge. Failure is not an option.

Of course with me, failure is ALWAYS an option.

Yesterday morning, right after I posted part two of this little insane assignment, I clicked into my private messenger account and immediately sent a small nugget of my love and affection to Master Barrett, the dom who is making me do this (I almost wrote bastard there, but then decided at the last minute not too!) In my typical open mouth insert foot style, I politely told him that I hate him, at least until this assignment is open. Master Barrett responded typically by first discovering what sex toy was currently buried inside my pussy, and upon discovering I was wearing my vibroballs, calmly ordered me to turn them on low.

“How long?” I asked.

“All day” he replied.

I wish there was a way for guys to understand what that’s like, but there really isn’t. First of all, there is no way to really torture a cock for that long, especially mildly. Guys are all about speed. You can make them cum, or you can tease them, but it’s all intense and you have to start and stop. Girls are different. You can set things up so it’s all tease, at a steady pace, non-stop, for hours. Personally, I’m sort of used to the vibroballs. I used to wear them a lot in college and there were times I’d get on the internet for three or four hour stretches with those things rumbling inside me, doing some um… internet research. Yeah. Internet Research.


Anyway, I’d worn vibroballs for extended periods before yesterday, and let’s be honest, I’m like the world champion for enduring direct vibration stimulation to sexual organs. Ok, sure, I wasn’t coherent about half way through, but I still DID IT! So I turned on the vibroballs, suppressed the initial urge to fuck anything remotely cock shaped, and continued my conversation with Master Barrett.

He also had issues with me sitting in my truck and asking permission. He felt that was cheating. Do you feel that was cheating? Sigh. Well, to be honest, I sort of can see his point. So I agreed, no more asking while sitting in my truck. That made things a lot harder. Trust me. Then Master Barrett said for me to expect him to “up the ante” each day for the rest of the week. I trembled, and not from the vibroballs. In fact, today’s ante is already wobbling from my breasts, but I’ll get into that later. He felt the vibroballs would make a nice “spice” to our little mixture of humiliation, embarrassment, and sexual perversion. You know what? He was right.

I didn’t make it much past breakfast before I pleaded an excuse to head out on some errands. We’ve slowed things down now, so until the soy beans are ready for harvesting, I only have the animals to really care for. That makes it a little easier to escape the farm, which is good, because I was so horny and desperate by eight or so o’clock that had ANYONE shown up on the farm, I’d have asked them right there and then if I could cum.

I hopped in my truck and immediately sped off with no particular destination in mind. To be honest, I think my pussy was driving, pointing me in some innate direction that only my libido could sense. The truck trundled along and I found myself heading westbound toward Houston.

Oh. For you people in New York. It’s Houston. Pronounced HEWS-TON. It’s not HOUSE-TON. Idiots.

Morning rush hour was still going on and I turned down Highway 6 and began cruising, pulling into parking lots, looking for a target. I passed the icehouse I had spent an afternoon getting gangbanged in. I passed the service center where both my car and my pussy were thoroughly lubed. Then I was into the more eclectic shopping strip malls. Oh. How appropriate! Strip malls!

I guess I should talk about what I was wearing; flip flops, khaki shorts, no panties, tee shirt, and I HAD been wearing a bra, but it was now sitting on the seat beside me. I pulled into one massive parking lot, got out of the truck, and cranked the dial of my vibro balls to maximum, grit my teeth, and started walking. I was looking for something in particular: a single guy, getting out of his vehicle, where there was some nearby concealment in the manner of a large sport utility vehicle. Preferably a Hummer if I could swing it.

Unfortunately, no Hummers. I guess gas prices are making those things lawn ornaments these days. Oh well. I walked on, teeth clenched as my pussy contracted almost continuously around the vibroballs. My nipples were hard as rocks and it took almost an insane amount of willpower not to plunge my hand into my shorts and finish the job. It took about ten minutes to find Mr. Right, a slightly over college age guy, wearing a black polo and a lanyard with a name tag on it. It said “Eric” on it, not that it really matters, but I managed to approach Eric before he had made it more than three or four steps away from his vehicle. Even better, it was right between a van and a Ford Explorer.

“Excuse me!” I asked, probably a bit more intensely that I meant to. It startled him. He gave me a surprised look.


I stayed between the van and the Explorer. “Can I please cum?” I begged, one hand going down to my shorts.

“What?” Sigh. I need to be more explicit when I ask that first question. It would eliminate these tiresome repetitions.

“I need to orgasm. I can I please masturbate?” Not exactly what I need, but close enough.

He glanced around, his shocked expression still written bold upon his face. “Here?”

I nodded quickly, no doubt conveying the absolute urgency of the situation. Be honest. If a pretty 24 year old girl came up to you and told you she needed to masturbate immediately and needed your permission, wouldn’t you say yes?” Well guess what Eric said?

I pushed my hand down into my shorts with relief, right after glancing at my watch. I had sixty seconds to do this and frankly, it didn’t even take that long. I jammed my finger against my clit, rubbed back and forth frantically with one hand, while my other yanked my shirt up, exposing one nipple, which I pinched pretty hard. I fell against the Explorer, my shorts slipping down my body thanks to the movement of my hand, exposing my hips, loins, and even the top of my slit. Eric got quite an eyeful.

And I got a handful; of juices. The orgasm was rather wet, thanks to increased stimulation and the fact I hadn’t cum in like ten hours. I was pretty noisy too I think, but we didn’t attract anyone’s attention.

“Holy shit,” was Eric’s comment. I sighed as I started to relax, pulling my hand away from both my crotch and my breast at the same time. I tugged my shorts back up and then turned and gave Eric my best million watt I hope you enjoyed the sex show smile. I pulled out the remote and turned it back down to low. Then I pulled my shirt back over my breast and stepped up on tip toe to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. I love doing that.

“Thanks!” I said politely and started to walk off

“What the fuck?” Eric said. “You’re just going to walk off and leave me like this?”

I stopped and looked back. “Like what?”

“Confused? Horny? Wondering what that thing is?”

I smiled again. “Yep. See ya!” And then I walked back to my truck.

Was that cruel?

I puttered around for a while. Went to the mall, bought some new clothes, basically stewed myself for an hour or two so that by eleven o’clock I was almost as horny as I had been earlier that morning. I started looking for another target while I was still at the mall and I turned up my vibroballs in expectation of that very thing.

Unfortunately, the target never presented itself. Instead, my libido went into overdrive and for some strange odd reason, while walking along in front of a build your own stuffed bear shop, I felt this odd surge between my legs. I wobbled, gasped, nearly fell down, and ended up leaning against the wall as I orgasmed. Oops. Just a little too much expectation between my legs, right?

Master Barrett had made it very clear what needed to happen should I fail any portion of my assignment. After recovering from my vibroballs induced orgasm, and reassured half a dozen people that I was okay, I got back in my truck and trundled off to home. I’m actually a little embarrassed about this actually. When I got home, I greeted everyone, went upstairs to my room, and followed Master Barrett’s prepared instructions exactly.

First I got out my anal plug. I hate these so much. I now technically have two of them, though one is usually connected to my chastity belt. I got out the other. It is four inches long and four inches wide at the base. It’s tapered for easy entry, but widens diabolically rather quickly and basically feels like someone is shoving a baseball bat up my ass.

I also got out a certain hemp construct I made some time ago. It basically was a one inch thick rope, approximately twenty nine inches long, with another similar rope about twenty five inches long tied on one end in the middle of the first. After stripping out of my shorts, I wrapped the longer rope around my waist, tying it off in the front, so that the attached rope dangled down between my butt cheeks. Then I grabbed the butt plug, lubricated it with a bit of sex jelly, and inserted it, rather reluctantly, in my ass. Once I was plugged, I reached down between my legs, grabbed the dangling rope, and pulled it upward as I spread my ankles.

The rope pushed the plug a little deeper and I reached down and spread the petals of my sex apart as I tugged the rope into position. Soon my labia were nicely parted with the one inch thick, scratchy, sex soaked hemp, which was looped under the waist string and then tied off with a clove hitch. I tightened it so that the knot was literally right above my clit, the crotch rope just a tad too tight. Then, rather carefully, I pulled my shorts back on, tucked the vibroballs remote into my pocket, and gingerly took a step.

Oh my God.

Let me describe in detail exactly what was happening. First of all, the vibroballs were still buzzing merrily away inside my pussy. They move with every step, rattling against each other as well as generally exciting me sexually. This was now complicated by the rope between my legs, which literally slid about an inch back and forth through my pussy with every step I took. To make matters worse, the large knot directly above my clit was too big to actually come OFF my clit, so not only was my clit being rubbed aggressively, but the knot was putting a lot of pressure on it as well. YOU try walking like that.

But I did. I mastered my sexual urges, my needs, my sexual agony and went downstairs and had lunch with my family. Then I made a pretense at some chores, which actually meant I went out to the barn and didn’t move for about an hour. Through all this the bonfire between my legs was getting worse and finally I just grabbed my keys, jumped in my truck and took off.

Master Barrett had proscribed the exact procedure for dealing with my punishment for “unauthorized orgasm” and I quickly drove into town. All I needed to do was find a stranger, explain my predicament, and ask him or her for permission to remove the crotch rope thong. Of course, I technically had to remove it right there in front of them, so it wasn’t going to be another parking lot ambush as far as I was concerned. I instead started driving toward a series of small shops, which at two o’clock in the afternoon should be only barely busy. I needed privacy for this one.

I pulled up to the first strip mall and only aggravated my situation by walking the entire length, only to find the few stores with acceptable targets either having extra employees or customers. ARRGGGHHH. It was awful. I made it back to the truck and moved on. The next strip mall was a bit longer and I made it past three stores, none of which were acceptable, when another orgasm rocked through me. It was really intense, and made me sway and lean against the wall. I think it was the rope that did it. It hurt, and at the same time I was being sexually stimulated by the vibroballs. My body just couldn’t handle it. To be honest, I’m not surprised. After a few minutes I recovered, tentatively took a step, and realized that I needed to get the crotch rope off and the anal plug out of my ass…quick. Between the plug and the vibroballs, my pussy and ass were constantly contracting, and the rope was sawing its way through my clit. There’s a question: how many orgasms will it take before the crotch rope saws its way through Breanne’s clit? The world may never know…

I went into the next store that looked even remotely possible. It was a gaming store, which will remain nameless, but I’ll just say if you’re a gamer this is a good place to STOP. Okay? We good now? All right. I’m not a gamer but I’ve got a Wii so I’ve been in places like this before. So I went in, still slightly reeling from my last orgasm and was immediately greeted by the clerk, a nice young man who oddly enough, was wearing a very similar outfit that my early morning conquest Eric was wearing. We smiled at each other and he asked me the loaded question.

“Good Afternoon. What can I do for you?”

I walked up to the counter, slowly of course, put my elbows down on the counter, bent over, blinked my pretty eye lashes, and then gave him a million watt please let me out of this crotch rope and I’ll do anything for you smile.

“I have a serious problem,” I said, starting off. I knew it was going to come out weird no matter how I said it so I just went right on ahead. “I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut, and my master made me put on a crotch rope. He said I could only take it off if a stranger gave me permission. You’re a stranger, so would you be willing to give me permission to take it off?”

The words came out in a rush, and I suspect something of a jumble because the guy just stood there. Maybe its NOT the way I ask, but WHAT I’m asking. I guess it just takes a moment to compute.

“Excuse me?”

Oh geeze. Another intellectual. I repeated myself, this time going so far as to take a step back from the counter and literally pulling the elastic waist band of my shorts down far enough to show him the waist rope and the knot above my clit. Okay, so he might have seen something else, but I’m sure the rope was really the focus of his attention.

“You need my permission to take off the rope?” he asked, still clarifying. His name tag said “manager”. How the hell do you become a manager and have trouble with a simple request.

“Yes,” I replied. “This isn’t a joke. No cameras, no audience, no anything. Just please say ‘yes you can take off the rope”. It’s easy,” I told him.

“Uh. Okay. You can take off the rope,” he said, this time with a little more confidence. I grinned my thanks and immediately started pushing my shorts down.

“Wait! What are you doing?” he demanded.

I rolled my eyes. “Taking off this damn crotch rope. It’s not very comfortable,” I replied, continuing.

“You can’t do that here! In the middle of the store!” You should have seen his eyes. They were popping out of his skull.

I stopped. “You want me to do this in your back room or something?”

“That’s for employees only.” His response sounded automatic. I needed to kickstart him again. I pushed my shorts down to my ankles and started to step out of them. I don’t see what he was worried about. There weren’t any customers, nor were there likely to be until school let out. Plus I was technically behind a big cardboard poster like thing holding a gun and displaying a game name. I managed to reach down and pull off my shorts, holding them in my hand when he came out from around the counter, grabbed me, and pulled me into the back room. I had a hold of my vibroballs remote in one hand as he manhandled me into privacy.

What a mess. As a manager, he wasn’t the most organized guy I’ve ever encountered. He stood in the doorway, keeping watch on both his store and me and I stared at him as my fingers fumbled at the knot. I admit, I was feeling just a bit cruel, but also a bit playful and I pretended I couldn’t get the knot loose.

“I can’t get this knot. Would you mind?” I asked him, rotating my hips and lifting one leg. I put my flip flop clad foot on a chair as his eyes fell out on the floor and began rolling around. I guess the pinkness of my protruding pussy won him over, because he came over and immediately untied the rope. I winced a few times as it moved across my clit, but it wasn’t long before he found the anal plug.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, pressing the bottom of the plug. I wish he hadn’t done that. I nodded and then he reached out and took the remote from me.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Vibro balls. In my pussy,” I replied. The bastard then turned the dial to maximum and the muted roar of the balls was suddenly audible and I groaned, my hips involuntarily churning, as my ass tightened around the plug. Now I can stand a lot of sexual stimulation. I’ve accidentally trained myself to tolerate long term exposure and even some pretty intense sex play. But I CAN’T stand the vibroballs on maximum for very long.

“Please!” I gasped, feeling the orgasm rushing toward me. “Please stop! I can’t cum! I’m not allowed too!”

“What do you mean?” he demanded, leaving the vibroballs on their maximum setting. My hands went to my pussy as my clit began to throb.

“The rope and plug are punishments for cumming when I wasn’t supposed too.”

“So what happens if you cum now?” he asked, clearly intrigued with the situation.

I shook my head. “I don’t know..just please!”

I could see the look in his eyes. It’s a common look for guys, the wheels turn, the blackmail rises to the top. And then it came.

“What will you give me to stop?”

The words were out of my mouth before a second had passed. “Anything! I’ll give you a blowjob! I’ll let you fuck me! Just…please turn it off!”

My loins went still. I fell to the floor gasping, my body shaking. He handed me the remote and I took it, still slightly dazed from the intensity of the torment.

“I’ll be right back,” he said politely. I was left on my own for about a minute and then he was back. He took the remote away from me, the little wire leading back down to my pussy, and he pulled me upright so that I was on my knees. He presented his own crotch to me and then I was presented with his dick.

“We’ll start with that blowjob and if you don’t do a good job then this happens.” He thumbed the vibroballs again and they roared to life for a few seconds. It was like throwing gasoline on a bed of hot coals. Whoosh! I nodded as the roar faded and he turned the vibroballs off again. I opened my mouth and tried my best to give him the best blow job of his life.

I’m actually really good at blowjobs. I use my hands and my mouth equally, which is the real trick. Guys who only want face fucking are missing out, of course they’re looking for the submission and humiliation of it. If you’re trying to get a guy to cum, then use your hands. Stroke, rub, squeeze, and fondle. Trust me, it works. It wasn’t long before my manager was groaning, one hand on my head while the other played with the vibroballs remote, occasionally turning it up to low, other times sending a jolt of powerful vibrations through my pussy. I could sense he was getting ready to cum when he pulled away from me, tugged me to my feet, and turned me around.

I was ready for this and grabbed my shorts with a quickly shouted “wait!” I had the condom out in seconds and he let me put it on him, even as he changed the roar of the vibroballs from high to low back and forth. When he was appropriately clad, he ordered me to turn around and bend over. How prosaic.

The vibroballs got turned off completely, which was a bit of a relief, but then he tugged them out of my body. He ignored the anal plug. I got bent over the chair and his hand went up under my shirt, pushing it up as he exposed my breasts. One hand cupped them while the other positioned his cock at my pussy. Then I got impaled.

As far as fucks go, this one was actually pretty good. Of course, unlike usual, I was trying very hard not to cum. The guy was intense. His pumping was steady, sort of slow, and he seemed to be rebuilding back up to a powerful orgasm. I could tell when he was close because his grip on my breast got tighter and then he was pinching my nipple. That really did it because I shuddered and then couldn’t hold back any more as another orgasm rippled through me. I tightened around him just as he started to cum, and we sort of just stood there immobile as our muscles locked into place. He filled the condom and I just sort of sighed.

We sort of just separated and he was stripping off the condom as I turned around and planted my anal plugged ass in the chair. My pussy was dripping and I just sort of gave him this loose relaxed grin of pleasure.

He laughed. “You came anyway.”

I nodded. Then with a sigh I inclined my head toward the fallen vibroballs. “I need those back in on low.”

He gave me a look of incredulity. “Seriously?”

I nodded again. “It’s sort of a punishment.”

“Jesus. You ARE a slut.”

He buckled his pants and then picked up the vibroballs, handing them to me. They were still a bit wet. Slowly, I pushed them into my now widened, pink, and still slightly abraded slit. Once they were embedded, I turned them back on, setting the dial to low. I admit, I let out another groan, but I wasn’t so out of it that I couldn’t pull myself together.

I left my breasts exposed as I grabbed my shorts. Pulling them on was a trial and my shirt fell back down all on its own before I got my khakis back in place. I tucked the remote into the front pocket like usual, and then grabbed the rope thong which was lying on the floor.

I followed my recent paramour out of the back room and into the main store. A piece of paper was taped to the front door, and he moved quickly to it, tugged it free, and then unlocked the front door.


There were a few awkward moments after that. I was sated to be honest, though there was still the difficulty of the plug in my ass. I still needed to find one more stranger to get the plug out before I could technically have orgasms again. Though if the last hour was anything to judge by, I was still getting plenty of action.

Let’s see. There was the introduction, exchanging of names, a few questions about being a NHPS, exchanging of emails… that sort of stuff. Then I left. No customers the entire time. Silly.

I continued down the strip mall, looking for a similar spot to extract my anal plug. I’m not a fan of things in my ass, even cocks, so getting the plug out was at the top of my list of things to do that afternoon. It was getting hot so I stepped into one of those large wanna be department stores. You know, the ones that are warehouses trying to be department stores, instead of department stores trying to look like warehouses? I went in there. I think I wandered around for about ten minutes before I found what I was looking for; single woman, impeccably dressed, thin, a little waspish, but vain if her jewelry was any indication. I approached her, introduced myself and then explained my predicament.

“You actually agree to this abusive behavior?” she asked, her tone clearly disapproving. I nodded, mentally groaning already. I didn’t need a lecture. A simple yes or no would have sufficed. “You should discontinue this sluttish behavior. It is unbecoming of a woman in today’s world,” she said hautily.

“But I like being a slut,” I replied.

“Then keep the offending object in your ass.” She turned away from me.


I’m only recounting this because it stuck in my memory. I realize it really isn’t important, but I wanted an opportunity to call her names. So thanks for putting up with this. I turned, a sour look on my face as I left the BITCH looking at clothes. She had horrible taste anyway.

My next target was a bit more conventional. This time it was a store employee, male, who was a little younger than me. He listened to my unconventional request, made the normal remarks of disbelief, and then led me to the changing rooms. No one was around, so I invited him to come in and watch, which was sort of the idea of the punishment in the first place. You should have seen his grin. We went in together, I quickly tugged my shorts down to my knees, and of course there was the obligatory question about the soft buzzing sound and what the remote did. However, unlike the game store manager, my latest gentleman was much less aggressive. He just enjoyed the show. I pulled out the plug, much to my relief, set it down on the floor, pulled up my shorts, and then offered him a blow job.

Yes, I know. I didn’t need to. But he was SO nice! I felt he deserved it. I was quick and an expert and he came pretty quickly. The only screw up was that he jerked when he came and some of it caught me across the face, rather than in my mouth. I wiped some of the cum off my cheek, licked my finger and grinned. I gave him a chaste kiss, got my plug, and went off to find the BITCH.

This time I approached her I was holding the still slightly moist plug up high. I cleared my throat, looked at her, saw her astonished expression of horror and said, “Excuse me, do you happen to have some tissue? I think I’ve got sperm in my hair.”

I am soooooo evil. But I enjoyed it. The Bitch just stared at me, in shock, and I turned and left the store. I did sort of wipe the plug off… on something. Uh… don’t ask.

With the vibro balls buzzing I headed for home, ready for more sexual escapades. But I wasn’t terribly horny, and to be honest, was feeling pretty good. In fact, I felt so good that I actually didn’t really get turned on again until after dinner, and it wasn’t until ten pm that I felt the urge to go back out. I suppressed it of course, deciding I could just go out the next morning.

So at five this morning I woke up as usual, got dressed in a short skirt, tee shirt, and my flip flops. No panties or bra today. Before I left my room to head outside to go feed the animals, I picked up two wooden clothespin. One went in my pocket and the other I delicately attached to my clit, feeling it dangle down. Why two clothespins? Well Master Barrett was kind enough to give me an alternative should my clit become to sensitive. That’s why I’m not wearing a bra. Ah… the spice of life as Master Barrett called it. Nothing better than adding a little torment to an already tormented Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut. Of course I switched out the vibro balls for ben wa balls today. The remote was too dangerous.

After chores and breakfast, I retreated to my bedroom, lifted my shirt, moved the clothespin from my clit to my nipple and added the second peg, which is why my chest tingles and I’m already terribly horny. I knew I had to finish this first, but I’ll be honest with you, I’m about to go out and find another stranger.

Who knows? It might be you.

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