There are times when being a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut is almost more than I can bear. Saturday was almost my limit.
Saturday morning found me relatively well rested, my clit tender but not unusually sore, and a tiny kernel of need slowly blossoming between my legs. As usual, I got up at five am to do my chores, and started off the dressing process in a rather unusual manner. Standing naked, and even more unusually, empty, I stood on tiptoe to reach onto the top shelf of my closet to pull down a rather nondescript brown box tucked conspicuously behind my toy box. Setting it down on my bed I opened it, extracting the large leather, metal, and plastic monstrosity that would shortly be impacting my life for the entire day.
My chastity belt was a gift from Kari a month or so ago. I forget exactly when, but she gave it to me in order to facilitate a sexual punishment that bordered on extreme. If you haven't read about it, you can on the blog or the website, so I won't go into details, but I left with an extremely expensive, rather aggressive sex toy that combined all the lovely advantages of forced orgasm with denial. It's not exactly user friendly, since when you're in the damn thing, there isn't much you can do, but on the whole I've enjoyed it. The construction is pretty simple. There are basically two leather straps. One goes around your waist with a three way buckle and a second strap of slightly softer leather that widens in a few particular areas that goes between your legs. Those wide areas are fitted with plastic molds that allows "attachments" to be added. The belt comes with two out of the box; a vibrating bottom plug and a similar vibrating vaginal dildo. To top things off, there is a plastic "bump" at the very front, oddly enough positioned directly over the spot where a woman's clitoris sis located. This bump also happens to be a vibrator, though of a rather simplistic design.
The bottom plug and dildo both have three speeds. The clitoral vibrator has only two. I spent a few moments lubricating the two phalluses, then quickly buckled the waist strap around my middle. Reaching between my legs, I brought up the crotch strap and felt the tip of the bottom plug pressing up against my ass. I tried to relax as much as possible as I forced the thick head into my ass, but it was tough. Even before the thing was completely seated the vaginal probe was digging up into my pussy and I merely pulled the strap tight to firmly lodge both rods into my body. I think I moaned a little when it was done, but I managed, locking the strap into place at the three way buckle with a small padlock.
There was a second flap on the crotch strap. This covered the base of each of the three vibrators. It too was lockable, preventing the wearer from accessing her own toys. For me, I was supposed to be allowed access today so while I buckled the flap closed, I didn't lock it. I shifted my hips a little, seating the various plugs and probes a little more comfortably, and then slipped into a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and headed out to take care of my chores. The key? Well I put it on my bureau.
An hour later I was back inside, sitting at the computer, writing out Friday's events when Master Barrett logged on to private messenger and contacted me. We had the usual discussion. How did yesterday go? What are you stuffed with? Don't you like it when I abuse you? That sort of stuff. We talked about how the day's torment would go and how awkward it was going to be for me. You see, it was sort of simple. Master Barrett wanted me in the chastity belt all day. Like the last week, I wasn't allowed to cum unless given permission from a complete stranger, face to face, and then when finally allowed to climax, I had to do it in less than a single minute. I suppose this is all supposed to help me "cum on command" or some such thing. Is it not enough that a nympho humiliation pain slut is always ready for a fucking? Does she also have to be able to just cum on command?
Plus there were caveats. If I wasn't at home or in my truck, I had to have the vibrators on the chastity belt at medium, except for the clitoral vibrator which could be on low. Talk about intense. Plus they had to stay that way, even if I had already cum, with permission of course.
Worse, if I DID cum without authorization, the punishment was rather brutal. The vibes went to maximum. All of them. And they had to stay on maximum until I found three different strangers, one at a time, who would be willing to let me turn off the vibrator of mine (or their) choice. If I had more orgasms, I was supposed to count them. On Sunday I would be giving out free orgasms - as many as I had experienced - before I would be allowed to orgasm again myself, or consider the assignment complete.
To be honest, I had conflicting feelings about the whole assignment. First of all, just being stuffed wasn't so bad. I can handle having stuff rammed up inside me. Sure, the vibes needed to go on when I was out and about, but I could avoid that, thus minimizing my risk of "unauthorized orgasm". That is so funny to say! "Unauthorized orgasm." I'd give money to hear Arnold Schwarzenegger say that!
So Master Barrett and I were talking and I ended up with clothespins attached to my breasts. This caused certain chain reactions to start. Our conversation halted momentarily while I dealt with some familial issues, sans clothespins of course, but the damage had been done. I was already hot and bothered. Then I made the mistake that cost me everything. I said to Master Barrett, "it could be worse! You could be making me have one of the vibrators on. That would set me off and FORCE me to go out and keep from having "unauthorized" orgasms." Me and my big mouth. Next thing I knew the vaginal probe was merrily buzzing away between my legs on low. It was just enough to get my juices flowing and keep them going. But the real problem was that it put me on a timer. There was no way I was going to be able to "put off" going out to get permission to cum.
I wrote till about eight or nine o'clock, I forget which, but by then I could tell that if I didn't go out and get relief, that I'd be having my first unauthorized orgasm at the house. That would result in vibes on full, and I know I can't drive with the vibrators on full power. So I stopped writing, headed out, and started looking for targets.
My pussy was already soaked and I was shifting around in my seat, trying to stay focused on driving. It was tough. YOU try driving around with a four inch plug in your ass and an eight inch long dildo buzzing in your pussy and see if you can handle it. It was a tough drive. In the end I headed toward the mall. Over the last week I had come to realize that asking permission to orgasm, indeed just handling the exposure, required a certain amount of strategic planning. My first day I had been smart and sat in my truck while asking permission to cum, or going through a drive thru and asking at the last second, thus ensuring some slight sense of privacy in my actions. Master Barrett shot that down pretty quick, so I'd taken to doing some rather odd things, like shopping at strip malls. For me, there was logic in going to the mall. Lots of people which meant a target rich environment, and lots of little nooks and crannies where a cumming cutie wouldn't be as easily noticed. There was one other major change between the past seven days and this one; the very fact that I had no access to my own pussy or clit. It meant that I would have to be right on the edge of orgasm before asking for permission to cum, without time to set up the situation the way I had the previous days. When I arrived at the mall I parked outside the sports equipment store as usual. I pulled my shorts down, unbuckled the strap concealing the bottoms of the various vibrators in me, and started adjusting things.
The anal plug roared to life, buzzing away at medium. The dildo, which was already in my pussy, got turned up one additional level and I could already feel my body pulsing around it. Last but not least, I activated the clitoral vibrator, setting it on its lowest setting. It pulsed, which made things even harder to deal with. With my breath already harder than it was before, I tugged my shorts back into place. My tee shirt was a tad bit too short, leaving a two inch circle of bared mid-riff around my waist, and the flip flops clung loosely to my feet. I got out of the truck, grabbed my purse, and headed toward the mall.
And almost died.
I was crossing the inner road when a white sedan screeched to a stop right next to me. An angry overweight woman rolled down her window and started shouting at me to pay attention and called me a "stupid white bitch" who should watch where she is going. For a second I just blinked at her as she cussed me out, but then I got angry. Sure, I was a little distracted. In fact, next time you shake your head at the apparent empty-headedness of your favorite blonde or brunette, you should consider the fact that maybe she's just stuffed with a vibrating dildo. We aren't stupid. We're distracted. There's a difference. In my case though, the distraction wasn't the issue. Pedestrians have right of way. And I reminded her of that with my middle finger and by shouting it at her.
Then I prudently got out of the middle of the road since I didn't put it past her to run me down. Could you just imagine the scene with the paramedics? "Hmmm....she's wearing some sort of sexual chastity belt, but it's vibrating."
I made it in without further incident, though I did hear screeching tires as the bitch in the car went off to mow someone else down. Once inside the mall the buzzing of my vibrators was much louder and I steered clear of everyone in the store until I made it through to the other side. Once in the main mall concourse, the noise was too much for my vibrators to be heard clearly. I set off toward the nearest restrooms, thinking that privacy there would be the easiest to attain.
About five or six weeks ago, I spent a full twelve hours strapped into the chastity belt. At that time I had been tied spread-eagled to a bed, which was good because the vibrators had been buzzing away at top notch the entire time. It was a cross between "punishment" and "fun torment to do to Breanne" and was the culmination of both Master Barrett and Mistress Kari. It was agonizing. And while my trip to the mall didn't have me tied and stretched, or even enduring high powered vibrations (at least not yet), I was still having trouble. My steps were starting to falter as waves of lust rushed through me. My pussy had become this trembling, pulsing, glove, trying to eat its way through the black rubber vibrating dildo, even as my rear end tightened in sequence around the plug. The absolute worst though was my clit, which seemed to be some sort of hot button started that made every minute longer and more intense. By the time I neared the restroom I was practically ready to explode. I held on though, wanting to be as close as possible before doing anything premature.
When you are at the mercy of your vibrators, rather than your own fingers, timing can be a bit dicey. Yes I managed to make it to the restroom area, but I could tell that I was really really close to losing it. I spotted a likely young man, maybe about eighteen years old, a little portly, who was heading in to the men’s restroom. I stepped up to him, put one hand on his shoulder, and then kissed him.
That got his attention! I gave him a smile in answer to his surprise, my libido screaming at me.
“Can I please cum for you?” I asked a bit breathlessly.
“What?” he said, looking at me funny. I didn’t have time for this.
“Yes or No!” I asked again, probably a bit more aggressively than I should have. I had literally pulled him over toward the opposite wall and people were walking past us to get to the restrooms. I frightened him slightly and he flinched.
“Geeze! Yeah, sure okay!” he said, still totally confused.
Just in time. I reached up to my breasts, my fingers scrambling against the thin cotton as I found my nipples. I began pinching them, really hard and then it all came together, well within my minute.
Have you ever seen When Harry Met Sally? I haven’t, but my parents used to talk about it. I once watched the clip where Meg Ryan (right? Meg Ryan was in that movie?) pretended to have an orgasm in public. Well, I wasn’t quite a loud, but I swooned right there, one arm around portly boy while the other went after my nipples. I pulled him to me as my hips began grinding against him and frankly, I humped him as I came.
When I was done, I sagged half in his arms and half against the wall. He expressed his concern for me, asking if I was okay, but his grin was pretty big. I smiled my thanks, slowly straightened, and told him he was my hero for today. I gave him another kiss, on the cheek this time, and let go. Would you believe he followed me like a puppy dog?
I was heading for my truck of course. I was relieved, but the real problem was the initial distraction that caused my orgasm in the first place was still a very present issue. I could feel the buzzing and frankly it was adding fuel to the coals of my first orgasmic fire. Portly boy caught up with me and started asking some rather embarrassing questions, like did I really cum, could he buy me lunch, why did I kiss him… stuff like that. He got rather insistent about it. Finally, I decided to take care of the guy. I detoured into a clothing store, dragged him into the back, and when no one was looking, pushed him into an empty changing room. Knowing my time was limited, I didn’t bother with any words, just put one finger on his lips, went to my knees and attacked him.
Okay, that’s just a metaphor for me unzipping his pants, pushing aside those horrendous white briefs some guys wear, and pulling out his cock. It wasn’t the most pleasant cock I’ve sucked, but it wasn’t the worst either. I’m telling you guys: stay away from onions, garlic, and beer. Oh… and shower more than every other day, especially if you masturbate. It helps. Trust me. She’ll be twice as likely to suck and swallow if you’re clean and taste good.
He was rock hard in about three nanoseconds and I didn’t have to do very much to get him going. I sucked on him maybe two or three minutes before he exploded in my mouth. All the while the vibrators in my ass, my pussy, and pressed against my clit rumbled, throbbed, and pulsed. I still wasn’t ready to cum again and I thought I could make it back to the truck if I hurried. At the truck, I could turn the vibrators off. Except for the vaginal, but I could handle that.
I plopped my chubby paramour on the bench, his dick still exposed, though rather limp, a stunned expression on his face. I patted him on the cheek and then told him to stay here while I went and got something a little sexier to try on. He nodded eagerly and I left the stall, gave one of the clerks who had come into the back of the store to investigate the noises a smile, and left.
So? You got something to say? That guy will be reliving that moment for the rest of his life. Even if that clerk gets security or the cops and finds him with his dick out he will always remember it!
I hurried as fast as I could, which turned out to be a mistake. My other mistake was trying to make it back to my truck. I was halfway through the sports store when the orgasm loomed rather large. I looked around wildly, but there was no one close enough. I headed toward a clerk at the archery desk, but evidently walking wasn’t good for me. I got half way before I had to grab a clothes rack and suffer through the orgasm. I just clung to the frame, my hips jerking as the vibrators stuffed inside me worked their magic.
Would you believe that either no one noticed, or no one cared? I must have clung to that stand for like four minutes recovering from a somewhat more powerful orgasm than my first. Of course, besides dealing with the wash of pleasure from the release of endorphins into my brain, I was also contemplating the fact that I was now totally and completely screwed, and in more ways than just having an anal plug and a vibrating dildo stuffed up inside me.
The punishment for unauthorized explosion was rather extreme, and rather specific. I knew I was now stuck at the mall until this was done and I admit I almost cried. I really did not want to do this here. When I thought I could stand and walk I headed toward the center of the store where the changing rooms were. The buzzing was already affecting me again, stoking me into higher levels.
I need to explain something about these orgasms. First of all, they are combinations of both clitoral and vaginal orgasms, which is good, because I can take them a lot easier than if they were just clitoral. Clitoral orgasms are incredibly intense and quickly over sensitize the affected spot. Of course, it didn’t help that the pulsing of the clit stimulator kept going. This did cause some sensitization. It made each successive orgasm more powerful, but it also caused a tinge of pain.
Now in a normal girl, I’d say that was the stopping point. But I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut and for me that pain just added to the build up for the next orgasm. A never ending cycle of orgasm that could technically continue until I went crazy or I became too sensitive to function and the pain overwhelmed the sexual sensations. No granted, I was no where close to that, but I knew it was coming. Or I was cumming. Or something like that.
In the changing stall I sat down and shoved my shorts down to my ankles. The flap covering the base of all three vibrators was unlocked, so I unbuckled it, let it hang loose, and started changing the settings. The anal plug went to maximum. The vaginal plug got turned to full power. The clitoral vibrator, well I flipped it to high. In seconds I went from recovering from orgasm to oh my god I’m going to cum again. I fumbled with the buckle as I got things back in place, managed to get my shorts up and even stumble from the changing room.
I tried walking normally back to the mall, but I guess I wasn’t because I attracted attention. No one approached me, but a few people watched. I wasn’t wearing anything crazy, so the only thing I could figure was that my body was doing some things that were peculiar. Probably swaying like I was drunk.
Outside the sports and outdoor equipment store I stayed close to the wall. I needed the support. Every open doorway was a vast chasm I had to cross, unaided, unsupported, enduring what I was sure everyone could hear and identify as three rather powerful vibrators tormenting one rather stupid nympho humiliation pain slut. I couldn’t stop blushing, imagining everyone I passed or who looked at me knew exactly what I was doing. I clenched down as the orgasm hit me, leaning against the wall. One. Damn. This time two different passersby stopped and asked me if I was okay. I told them both yes, though one mentioned I looked “peaked”. She had no idea. I’m still chuckling about that. I assured both good Samaritans that I was fine and continued my trek.
Where was I going? At the time I really had no idea. I was just looking for an appropriate store or person. When you’re hunting for the right person to give you permission to cum, or in my case, permission to turn off a vibrator, you have to choose wisely. It’s an art. Unfortunately for me, ten minutes later I still hadn’t had the nerve to approach someone and my second orgasm rocked through me. Two. This time I ducked into a kitchen store just as I started the orgasm, so at least I was out of the main concourse. I pretended to read some price tags as I shuddered through a more powerful orgasm than the ones I’d already endured. Surprised I hadn’t attracted attention, I saw a man, about fifty pounds overweight, but with a kind face, sandy hair, slightly balding, wearing glasses. He had been looking at me, but as soon as our eyes locked he went back to studying something on the shelf he was standing by.
I walked over. Thanks to the orgasm I had just achieved I was a little steadier but still breathless and flushed as I went up to him. He gave me a warm smile.
“Why were you looking at me?” I asked, returning that same expression. It wasn’t one of my million watt please fuck me with a spatula smiles, but it was close. He grinned sheepishly.
“You looked like you were in distress, and I wondered what a pretty girl like you would have to be distressed about,” he replied. I chuckled, then leaned in conspiratorily.
“I am distressed.” My voice was filled with what I could only describe as throaty lust.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asked. I could tell he still wasn’t aware of what was going on. Oblivious I guess, especially since I could clearly hear the vibrators buzzing below my belt.
I swallowed once. “Right now I’m stuffed with two vibrators, plus one on my clit and they’re all on high. Would you give me permission to turn one off?” I asked.
The surprised look on his face was adorable, but made it even clearer he was unaware of what was affecting me. I just wanted the clitoral vibrator off; the sooner the better.
“Are you serious?” he asked. “Why would you do such a thing?”
I licked my lips, feeling the strain of the moment. “I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut and I agreed to it.”
He looked rather thoughtful for a moment. “Well, if you’re a slut, then shouldn’t you keep them on?”
Yep. That’s what he asked. I couldn’t believe it. I shook my head. “No sir, it’s a punishment for an unauthorized orgasm. I have to ask strangers permission to let me turn them off. If I have more orgasms though there is more punishment.”
“Sounds like a fun cycle. Maybe you should leave them on.”
I clutched his arm, tears coming to my eyes. “Please…” I whispered. He looked at me kindly and then sighed.
“Oh, all right. You can turn one off.”
YES! Or at least that’s what went through my mind. I moved around behind him, stuck my hand down my shorts, unbuckled the flap and quickly turned the clitoral vibrator off. Just in time too. I was close to number three. Granted, I wasn’t out of danger yet, but having the clitoral stimulator silenced was a fantastic move forward. The guy watched the whole process, clearly intrigued.
“So what now?” he asked politely as I re-buttoned my shorts.
I smiled. “Now I find two more people to grant me permission to turn off vibrators. Thanks for your help,” I replied.
He lifted his hands. “That’s all I get? A thank you?” he asked. Greedy bastard. I glanced around. No one was in our aisle, so I quickly lifted my shirt, exposing both of my breasts. His eyes widened and he grinned, reaching out one hand. I let him touch for just a few seconds, then backed away, lowering my tee shirt. My pussy was still churning and that third orgasm was clearly on its way, though I still had a few minutes. It was time to find another stranger.
“Bye! Thanks again!” I hurried out of the store. I could feel his eyes on my back.
I hurried along but had to duck into another store as two mall security officers, escorting Porky boy, came down the hall. It looked like my earlier paramour was being asked to leave property. Damn. And ouch. I grimaced and hid, looking out through the window.
“Can I help you?” a voice asked behind me. I straightened and whirled only to find myself face to face with a dark skinned Indian or Pakistani man who spoke with a pretty decent English accent. The store was filled with cell phone accessories. Before I could speak, he nodded toward my shorts.
“I think you have a call,” he said, once more nodding at my hips. I gave him a quirky confused look since I didn’t hear my phone ringing, besides, it was in my purse which was draped over one shoulder. Then it dawned on me. He could hear the vibrations and thought my phone was on vibrate. Oh, the irony.
My mind raced. “Actually, my phone is stuck on vibrate. Do you think I should turn it off?” I asked politely, trying to keep my face from showing the increasing sexual pleasure churning up inside me.
He looked at me oddly, but nodded. “Yes. You will run down the battery.” Grinning, I nodded, thanked him, and left the store. Porky Boy and the mall cops were no where to be seen, so I ducked into the next store: clothing of course, and found a quite corner. I actually had to pull down my shorts to get to the anal plug’s base, but I managed and sighed in relief as the buzzing between my legs was no focused solely on my pussy.
With the earthquake in my ass stilled I made it much farther this time before the third orgasm overwhelmed me. Once again I ducked into a store to avoid the awkward stares and concerned citizens. I moved toward the side of the huge department store and hid in a rack of coats as the vaginal, deep, penetrating orgasm shuddered through me. Three.
It took me awhile to calm down, but the large department store was perfect to get lost in. I pretend to be looking at coats and no one approached me. Finally recovered, I winnowed my way through the merchandise, didn’t see anyone appropriate to ask about the last dildo, and then headed back out into the mall.
Five or so minutes later I spotted the perfect target. She was maybe nineteen or twenty, totally goth, alone, and looked lesbian. Don’t ask me how, I just knew. She was dressed all in black and had this metal chain link belt complete with handcuffs and padlocks and clips all over it. She was also taller than me. I followed her until she went into a store. It was one of those teenage type dark crazy stores that catered to the psychologically strange crowd. Tee shirts with weird sayings on them lined one wall and some rather awkward buckle leather outfit was on a display stand opposite.
I’m not one to usually complain about tee shirts, considering the ones I used to wear all the time in college. But those were purchased and picked out by Kari, not me. So don’t get in a huff, okay?
Anyway, the young lady was looking at some black tee shirts with all this silver lining and stuff on it and I tentatively approached. Her black mascara and eyeliner was way over done, not to mention the black lipstick. She looked like an ambulatory corpse. I’ve never understood the goth look. Especially carried this far. But I stepped up to the stand next to her, flashed her a smile, and said hi.
“Fuck off, bitch.”
Well damn. I can’t even begin to express how pissed that made me. My eyes narrowed and my mouth opened before my brain engaged.
“Well at least I’m not the one dressed like a dead kewpie doll,” I replied, scowling. “And I’m a slut, not a bitch.”
I guess my reply confused her. I gave her another serious look. “You called me a bitch. I’m not. I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut. So get it right.”
“You fucking with me?” Her voice was gravelly, as if she had been gargling with rocks.
I grinned. “If I were fucking with you, we’d be naked and my tongue would be wiggling around your pussy while you screamed in pleasure.” I said it softly, with just a touch of emotion. I’m good at manipulating people.
“Are you for real?” she asked, dropping her aggressive stance. I nodded.
“Absolutely. I’ve got a plug up my ass and a vibrator in my pussy,” I replied. “And it’s driving me crazy.”
She looked down at my shorts. “Prove it.”
Since we were pretty deep in the store and no clerks had come over, I shrugged, pushed down the waist band of my shorts, and showed her my chastity belt. She gave me a skeptical look until I rolled my eyes and unbuckled the flap. She saw the bases of each of the three vibrators. Her eyes widened as she finally heard the muted roar of the vaginal probe over the loud music in the store.
“You weren’t jacking with me. You really are a slut,” she said.
I grinned. “Yep. I’m wearing this because I’m being punished for having an orgasm when I wasn’t allowed too. I’m not allowed to turn down the vibrator unless a stranger grants me permission,” I told her.
She got it. “So you want me to give you permission to turn off the vibrator?”
“What’s the third one? I saw three controls.”
“The one in the front is the clitoral stimulator,” I told her. “I’ve already gotten permission from two other people to turn it and the anal plug off. Now it’s just the one in my pussy.” I paused. “Please? Let me turn it off?”
She gave me a tentative smile. “Let me think about it.” She turned back to the stand, leaving me to stew in my own juices. I wasn’t quite yet ready to cum, but it was coming. I could afford to wait a bit though. I wasn’t quite ready to leave her. Finally, after about two or three minutes, she turned back to me.
“I’ll let you turn it off if you fuck me.”
That surprised me. “What?” I replied, still a little startled.
“You said you wanted your tongue in my snatch. So we go back to the changing room together, you get me off with your tongue, and I’ll turn down your vibe.”
Despite her dead looking appearance, she evidently showered frequently and smelled like vanilla. It was weird. We went into the changing stall, she hiked up her flowing skirts, only to expose a pair of indecently pink and lacy panties that clashed horribly with her outfit. Those got pushed down and then I was kneeling down between her legs.
Oral sex with a girl is very different than oral sex with a guy. Guys are primarily about movement. You have to stroke the whole thing, while tantalizing the tip. But you can’t get too focused on the tip or you run the risk of over sensitizing him. Long, slow strokes that build up too faster ones are the way to go.
Girls are built differently. Oral sex for us is primarily clitoral, since the human tongue isn’t designed to go deep enough into the vagina to do anything meaningful. So unless you are some sort of circus freak, when giving “cunnilingus” to a girl, stay focused on the clitoral region.
Which is exactly what I did. Now granted, I did alter my movements. Sometimes I swirled, sometimes I sucked, a few times I actually lightly bit, but all of those things were done focused on one little tiny nub. I did a few long strokes up and down her slit, but those were only done when it became apparent that I things were too intense for her. I’m an expert at sucking cock, but after being the sole sex slave of a female mistress for almost five years, I’m really good at giving girl’s pleasure too.
When she came, she squirted, and I got a face full. I did my best to wipe it all off as the little goth girl finally quieted down. There wasn’t much space in the little changing room and she hadn’t been as silent as I would have preferred. But since no one was pounding on the door, I lowered her skirt and stood up, pushing my shorts down to my ankles. I pulled one leg out and propped it up on the bench next to her, exposing my chastity belt. Her fingers fluttered at the bottom buckle, the one that wasn’t padlocked, and exposed the bottoms of all three mechanical sexual torture devices. The middle one was still buzzing at full power and I was getting close to needing another orgasm.
I closed my eyes as the waves of pleasure rocking me steadily increased. I heard her fidgeting, moving, and then her fingers were between my legs. It wasn’t a sexual touch, but I could feel the pressure as she traced the dials. Both her hands were between my legs. She wiggled the chastity belt back and forth for a second and then, to my utter astonishment, both the anal plug and the clitoral vibrator at the front roared to life.
Not just life, but full power rock my world life. I cried out, my hands going down to my crotch but she knocked them away, pushing me up against the wall as we struggled with the strap that covered the base of all three vibrators. The bitch actually punched me, grabbed my breast, pinched me hard, and while I was dealing with that she pushed me down into the seat, pinned one leg and then slipped one of her small padlocks from her belt through the hasp. It closed before I could catch hold of it and she released me, letting my fingers scrabble at the lock.
A rather intense knock on the door caught our attention and someone asked us to come out. My tormentor grinned at me, waved bye, and opened the door. One of the store clerks was standing there, eyes hard as the goth girl walked away, leaving me exposed, my shorts on the floor, chastity belt the only thing covering my lower half, with all three vibrators roaring.
I flushed crimson and came. Four.
It took maybe two minutes for me to finish orgasming and recover enough to get my wits about me. The clerk wanted me out of the store immediately, but I begged and pleaded and he finally brought me a small screwdriver. The hasp of the small padlock broke almost immediately under the pressure and I quickly flipped open the leather cover and shut down the anal and clitoral vibes. I also turned off the vaginal. I handed back the screwdriver to the clerk who was now obviously having mixed feelings about me, but I had caused a scene and there were onlookers. I pulled my shorts on, took a deep breath, and walked out amidst the snickers and muttered comments and event the occasional completely audible “slut!” and “what a whore!”
Humiliated beyond belief, but with a quite crotch for the first time in hours, I headed back to my truck. I was sexed out, believe me, and I walked quickly. The dildo and the plug moved inside me, but it wasn’t that bad. Once safely ensconced in my truck, I burst into tears. After my crying fit was done, I started the truck and left the mall. I pulled into the first store parking lot I found away from the mall, far away from the other cars and got my vaginal probe humming again. I didn’t want to. But I knew I’d be in trouble if I didn’t do it.
I headed for home. It was near lunch time and I was hungry. I managed to make it another four hours, even with the vibrating dildo inside me and concentrating on getting a few chores done before I realized that I was going to need to make another trip out. It was five o’clock and my mom was a little pissed I was leaving. I told her I had made a promise and got away with only minimal haggling. My mom is hoping I’ll meet a nice man and settle down and get married. The only problem is that my idea of a nice man is a guy who wants to keep me naked, stuffed, whipped, and sexual tormented for ninety percent of the time, while the last ten percent is left for punishments. Mom wants a guy who will marry me, live on the farm with us, and take care of the farm chores so I can produce grand babies and keep house.
Fuck that. I went to college to GET AWAY FROM THE DAMN FARM. It’s bad enough that I have to run it now. If it were up to me I’d sell it to that developer, buy my parents a condo in Corpus Christi or Florida, and go to law school.
Okay. This is getting maudlin. Let’s get back to my chastity belt. It was buzzing merrily along and had been for hours. I was getting close to another unauthorized explosion, so I packed my bag and headed out. This time, I dressed more appropriately: a small black skit, slit up the side, along with a white skin tight top. The shirt had short sleeves and this collar that dipped down way below my breasts, but pushed them together so I didn’t need a bra. It was incredibly sexy and even dipped a bit down on the slutty side. Black high heels went with the ensemble as well as a small purse which had my ID, my keys, and four condoms. Hey. I come prepared. LOL!
This time I didn’t head toward the mall. I went clubbing. First of all, it’s a lot darker at clubs. There are plenty of guys, and in a pinch a car’s back seat works well for privacy. Granted, I wouldn’t be fucking anyone, but I was positive I would find a few guys willing to exchange permission to cum for a decent blowjob or tit fondle.
Uggh… that sounds awful. Tit fondle? What the hell is that? Sorry.
Anyway, I pulled up to one of the places Julie has taken me. If you don’t know who Julie is, then you need to read some of my other assignments. This isn’t a story you know. It’s a journal. You need to keep that in mind please. Anyway, I went to this one club near 610 that was all flashing lights, heavy music, lots of alcohol and swaying, dancing, groping bodies. I fit right in. Still in the car, I lifted my skirt, turned the vibrators back up to the official “I’m on the hunt settings” and almost came right there. The anal plug was on medium. The pussy dildo was at the same setting, and now the clitoral stimulator was humming along on low. I pushed my skirt down, got out of the car, and rushed into the club. I made it just in time too. My body was having some rather intense reactions to the reintroduction of the anal and clitoral vibrators and I quickly found myself grinding with this hot guy in a black pants and a half open black button up shirt. With my breasts practically bursting out of my shirt and pressed against his body, I shouted my question in his ear, knowing no one else would hear it over the beat. Shit. I could barely hear it.
“I NEED TO CUM! CAN I CUM PLEASE?”
I have no idea if he understood me or what, but he nodded vigorously. I clung to him, swayed, ground my hips against his, basically humped him, and came, all while on the dance floor. No one noticed. In fact, I’m not even sure my dance partner noticed. We finished the dance, though I was noticeably less animated, and he bought me a drink after asking my name. Since I was no longer desperate I fended off a few attempts to get me back on the dance floor and I ended up having a few more drinks with a few more men.
I’m not a big drinker, but by my third or fourth I was pretty buzzed. I realized I needed to stop. When I was in college, Kari liked getting me drunk because I’m a fun drunk. Some girls just fall asleep. I’m more likely to strip naked and fuck a beer bottle.
Thank God that wasn’t an option.
I admit it. Alcohol makes me horny. Okay, it doesn’t really, but I sort of loose control of myself. And when you’re stuffed with a pair of vibrating phalluses not to mention having a pulsing little toy pressed tightly to your clit, it’s sort of hard NOT to get turned on. I ended back out on the dance floor with my current alcohol pusher and when I was close I asked him my question.
“CAN I CUM?” I shouted. He looked at me, grinned. He grabbed me around the waist, his hands moving down to my ass. Then his eyes widened as he felt the vibrations.
“WHAT IS THAT?” he asked.
“MY VIBRATORS! THERE’S ONE IN MY ASS, ONE IN MY PUSSY, AND ONE ON MY CLIT!” I shouted back. “CAN I CUM PLEASE?”
He grinned again, his eyes flashing. “NO!”
Oh shit. “PLEASE? I’LL GIVE YOU A BLOWJOB!” Despite my shouting my voice had a bit of an edge to it.
He appeared to contemplate my offer for a moment. “WHY DO YOU NEED MY PERMISSION?”
I was getting frustrated, not the least because I could feel it coming. “BECAUSE THAT’S THE RULES! IF I CUM WITHOUT PERMISSION I GET PUNISHED!” I shouted at him.
He laughed. “GOOD! A SLUT LIKE YOU DESERVES IT!” He tightened his grip on me, swinging my hips which only hurried things along. “NO CUMMING!”
That last bit came right before I did. I let out a wail, grabbed hold of him as he continued to wiggle my hips, working the dildos through my own movements. I came hard, shaking in his arms. My pussy convulsed violently around the dildo and then I sagged, almost collapsing. He practically carried me off the dance floor over to the bar, picking me up and putting me on a stool.
“I’m Juan. So what happens now?” he asked. His thick dark hair wasn’t even out of place.
I asked for a water and got it before turning back to Juan.
“I’m supposed to turn up the vibrators to maximum now and then ask strangers if I can turn them off.”
He looked surprised. “That’s it?”
“I’m not supposed to cum again either.” I muttered, sipping my water.
“How do we turn up the vibrators?”
The flashing lights of the club and heavy music was starting to get to me. I spread my legs, letting the skirt slide apart thanks to the long slit up the side. No one really noticed except Juan, whose hands went to my knees.
“See the bottom buckle? Open it and there are three knobs. Turn each of them to the right.”
I guess it’s not often that guys are presented with such an opportunity. Juan spent a few moments caressing my bare thighs but then got right down too it. I had to grab his shoulder as he turned the clitoral vibrator up first. Then my pussy went crazy as the dildo roared into even higher levels, followed by the clenching of my ass as the plug did the same. Juan then buckled the flap back in place.
“How does that feel?” he asked, grinning.
“Intense! I need to find someone to ask!” I replied, slipping down from my stool. Juan went with me as I approached some random guy.
“EXCUSE ME!” I shouted, trying to ignore the rising tide of orgasmic ecstasy heading my way. “I WAS WONDERING IF I COULD TURN MY VIBRATOR OFF?”
The surprised look in the guy’s face was almost worth doing this every day. He glanced over at Juan who grinned and then shook his head, clearly indicating his desires. The man smiled, laughed and then shook his head in agreement.
“NO. YOU JUST CUM BABY! IF HE WANTS IT ON YOU HAVE TO SUFFER!”
I turned and glared at Juan. Anger gave me just a bit more strength and I moved on, repeating my question to the next guy I bumped into. The man ogled my breasts as I shouted my question. One look at Juan though, who had continued to follow me, resulted in a similar response.
Then I came. Five.
Juan caught me as I swayed, my hands at my clit, pressing the vibrating bump harder into my slit. He caught me up in an embrace and pulled me over toward the wall where he held me tightly. I barely noticed, but he was looking around the club for something. Finally he found it and started pulling me along. I was too buzzed, both with alcohol and vibrators to object. Next thing I knew I was being presented to another young Hispanic male whose name I forget. There was a rapid loud exchange of Spanish, of which I only caught a few words like orgasmo and conducta immoderada or something like that. I did understand the “hola senorita!” and fortunately they switched to English.
“She’s got two vibrators in her and one on her clit!” Juan was saying to his friend. The guy looked at me in surprise. I was already feeling the intense buzzing eating away at the little control I had. Then Juan reached up, grabbed my shirt, and pulled it down exposing both my breasts. Next thing I knew fingers had found my nipples and I was gasping as the orgasm rushed through me like fire. I didn’t exactly scream, but I was close, not that it mattered.
I was maneuvered to a table and stuck between Juan and his friend. More drinks were ordered and more were pressed on me. I was thirsty so I drank, plus it didn’t help that fingers were constantly digging into my shirt, which seemed to cover and then not cover my breasts. I was kissed a lot and it all sort of got blurry, but not with alcohol. I know I came. Seven. Then eight. My head was pounding and my clit was hurting. It was sensitive. After my ninth, I stood up, pushed Juan away, and stormed out of the club.
The cooler night air revived me as I headed toward my car. Shouts behind me said rather clearly that I was being followed. I turned and saw both Juan and his friend tailing me, laughing. I tried running, but tripped a little in my heels, only to be caught by this huge dude. He was white, with a beard, and was wearing an earring that seemed to glimmer. His black trousers were skin tight and he was wearing a black leather vest. His arms were covered in tattoos.
You know, I think I might have a chat with Julie about the clubs we go to. Maybe they aren’t the safest.
“You okay sweetheart?” he asked pointedly as he set me on my feet again. His eyes went to Juan and the friend in an unfriendly glare.
I nodded. “I just had enough for the night.”
Juan, know obviously a little drunk giggled. “I don’t think so chica.” He pointed at me. “She’s stuffed with vibrators and is slut.”
The big guy looked down at me, eyes questioning. I kind of looked guilty since I AM a slut, and I WAS stuffed with vibrators. I looked up at him. “Please? I just want to turn them off.” I said softly, with a little whine in my voice. It wasn’t faked. He nodded.
“Beat it” he told Juan and his buddy. Evidently he was too big to mess with, because both of them headed back into the club. I however had a more immediate problem. I clung to my savior only to have another orgasm. I shook, gasping, crying out my need and lust and insanity. Ten.
He looked alarmed and then was carrying me toward this huge motorcycle parked in a pack corner. It was one of those crotch rocket ones, all black and red and he set me down sidesaddle. I spread me legs, reaching down in desperation. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the chastity belt in the inadequate parking lot lights. I unclipped the leather cover and quickly turned off the clitoral stimulator.
Relief is nice. But I still had the anal plug going, not to mention the dildo, and both were on full power. I looked around.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. I nodded. “I still need to ask permission to turn off the other two.” Confusion filtered across his face so I explained my predicament. His response was astonishment, chagrin, a little embarrassed, and then enjoyment – of my difficulty.
“It sounds like you enjoy this,” he said.
I laughed weakly and nodded.
“Okay. I know where we can get you permission to turn the other two off. I’ve got buddies working down the road. Climb on.”
I blinked. Huh? He lifted me off the bike and set me on my feet, then straddled the machine. He took my hand and pulled me on behind him. He showed me where to put my feet and I wrapped my arms around him as he kicked the bike into a dull roar. We took off into the night and I closed my eyes as the wind blinded me.
The vibrations of the bike didn’t help and by the time we had arrived at his buddy’s work place I had my eleventh orgasm, gripping to him like a leech. I could barely move as we stopped and he pulled me off the bike with strong arms. I was led into a beer and liquor store and we stopped at the counter. The bright lights hurt my eyes. I didn’t pay any attention to the conversation since I was dealing with the light, my exhausted body, and lastly, the vibrations of my ass and cunt. A second guy came up to the counter, greeted my motorcyclist and then I was pushed forward. I stammered out my request and first one, then the other granted me permission to turn off the vibrators.
I was taken to the back room where the last two vibrators were mercifully turned off. I objected when the vaginal dildo went silent, explaining that I had to keep it on low, regardless. There were a few raised eyebrows, but nothing major. I felt it rumble back to life and sighed.
I was exhausted. I was sore. I was worn out. And I was in the back room of a liquor store with three guys, dressed like a slut, after admitting to having two dildos and a clitoral vibrator tormenting me. I usually object to conversations containing the words “what do we do with her?” happening around me, but this time I really didn’t care. My biker boy reached between my legs and took hold of the small padlock that kept my belt on and asked where the key was. I told him it was at home on my dresser since it was. They chatted for a moment and then I was flipped over and laid across a desk.
I felt my skirt go up and then the flap to my chastity belt was undone and lifted. There was some movement going on between my legs and then my legs were lifted. Suddenly, to my astonishment I felt both the anal plug and the vibrator coming out of me. I lifted up off the desk to see them grinning. I knew they were removable, but I never thought about actually removing them while the belt is on! My shirt got yanked off and then they were behind me.
I grabbed my purse and tossed it to them, telling them there were condoms in it. Biker guy went first, ramming his cock into my pussy and cumming rather quickly. Then it was the first friend, then the second. I didn’t cum. I didn’t have the energy and I was at the wrong angle. I just moaned and enjoyed it. Biker boy went a second time at the end, using my last condom, plus he did my ass for variety’s sake.
Afterward the plug and the dildo vibrator went back in and they even turned the dildo back on – to medium, but I wasn’t complaining. I was a limp rag doll, a wet noodle, putty in their hands as they dressed me, combed my hair, and even got me back on the bike. It was hard to hold on, but I managed. Biker boy drove me back to the club and asked me which car was mine. I had driven my Saturn rather than the truck (because obviously the truck didn’t go with my outfit) and I fumbled the keys out of my purse. He unlocked it for me and I climbed in, twisting in the driver’s seat. A quick kiss and a phone number exchange followed and the whole evening finally ended with me driving off toward home. I took off the chastity belt, showered, put in my husky dildo in order to follow NHPS Rule #1, and hit the sack.
So there you have it. Insanity. Screwing. Fucking. Humiliation. Pain, and even a little bit of dastardly behavior. Good guys and bad guys. Can you believe it? I still can’t. It’s all a haze to me, especially the last bit. I’m sure I left something out. I seem to remember sucking cock at the liquor store too, but I don’t remember when or who so I just sort of left it out.
What’s next? Trouble. That’s what. This isn’t over. Sigh… Eleven unauthorized orgasms translated into a lot of sex on Sunday. I slept in a little, woke up, forced myself NOT to masturbate despite the fact that my husky dildo had spent the night buried in my pussy, and got my chores done. A little later I made the mistake of getting online just to let Master Barrett know I was still alive. To be honest, I was feeling a bit pecky. I was about to run off, find eleven people to make orgasm (without having one of my own) and the only thing tormenting me was a nine inch long four inch wide rubber cock that didn’t move on its own. That’s why I hate dildos. Vibrators are so much better.
To make a long story short, I mouthed off to Master Barrett, who responded by changing the conditions of my last day. Instead of the husky dildo, I had to have my vibro balls in, and they had to be on low. Then I was instructed to get out a clothespin and put it on my clit. Master Barrett had me put the alligator clamp in my purse, along with the instruction that should I screw up and cum before I serviced eleven people, I was to replace the clothespin with the alligator clamp – and start my count over. Then Master Barrett told me to get a ruler and take it with me, along with special instructions so that I received a single blow to my clit after I made my first conquest cum, two blows after my second, three after my third, and so on until the last eleventh person came I was to receive eleven strokes right on my clit. He was nice enough to allow me to remove the clothespin or alligator clamp before the strokes though, but the clamp had to go back on afterward. I called him a pushover and that’s when I got directed to put in my anal plug. Not the one from the chastity belt, but my normal one. Lubricated with Icy Hot. Every hour.
I’ve spent close to four hours writing this much, so I have to take a break. Sunday’s adventure will have to wait for Part 9 of this supposedly seven part series. Sigh…
So what are you waiting for? Go away and get something done for a change! All of you people who just sit around waiting to hear what screwy nutsy thing I do next are just sick! Totally whacked! You’re a bunch of perverts, you know that? You WANT me tortured! You WANT me screaming! You WANT me screwed to the point of insensibility!
I want that too.
See ya tomorrow.