Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Can I Cum Part 9
Sunday afternoon found me waving goodbye to my mother, dressed in a denim skirt, tee shirt, and flip flops. Beside me sat my large bag, stuffed to the gills with everything I would need. I admit, I was twitching. It might have been the vibroballs buzzing away in my pussy. You’d think I would get accustomed to it, and you’d sort of be right. But I had just spent the last week plus one day with the damn things doing it and I was sensitive. It could also have been the small wooden clothespin that was unobtrusively dangling from my delicate clit. I’d been wearing it since about nine or so that morning. Or it could have been the icy hot coated butt plug. Damn I hate those things! When I die and get to heaven, I’m gonna find out who invented those things. I know it’s a man. Then I’m going to walk right up to him, give him one of my million watt please fuck me in the ass as hard as you can smiles…
And then kick him as hard as I can in the balls.
That said I still had enough presence of mind to be able to drive. That’s talent for you. I guess we can add that to the pre-requisite description of a nympho humiliation pain slut: the ability to drive competently while stuffed, vibrated, and clamped. I headed out toward that road on the south side of our farm. It’s a little traveled farm to market barely paved expanse that moves along the perimeter of our farm, at least our south side. I pulled my truck up, stopped, grabbed my bag, and got out of the truck. As I trudged to the front bumper, I contemplated my morning’s rash and rather stupid behavior.
Initially, this day was supposed to be easy. I had my choice of internal toys, just as I do most days. I had selected my husky dildo and even slept with it in the previous night. It was quiet, and after a full day of vibrators, quiet appealed to me. Sort of. By the time I woke up, my pussy had pretty much recovered from its full day of earth rattling adventure and I was fired up. Also, I wanted to cum, and Master Barrett’s stipulations were very specific. Thanks to eleven unauthorized orgasms the previous day, I was to venture forth, find eleven different strangers, provide them with orgasms, and then and only then, was I allowed to orgasm myself. Master Barrett did mention that if I came BEFORE I had completely serviced the eleven people, I had to start over. Now that’s what I call incentive.
At the front of the truck I slipped out of my tee shirt and bra and folded them. They were laid neatly on the hood of the truck as the early afternoon sun nicely illuminated my breasts. My denim skirt went next, which left me rather naked, standing in front of my truck. The remote for the vibroballs got tucked up on the bumper while I rummaged through my bag, pulling out the new outfit. A satiny blue dress appeared along with a set of high heels. Granted, it wasn’t my usual attire, but Kari had bought it for me a long time ago after seeing something similar on the internet. It was too short. It barely covered my ass and were I to pick up a penny just about everything would be exposed. It was also the kind of dress that could easily be pulled down in the front, exposing my breasts. Kari liked to do that to me, reaching over at inopportune moments (at least for me) to expose my front to whomever I was talking. I wasn’t allowed to react either. It was one of her little games. You wouldn’t believe the punishment I had to endure if I covered up or even acted like I noticed. I picked up the dress and slipped it on over my head. Then I put on the high heels. Not a car in sight. The only issue was the remote to the vibroballs and I solved that problem by a thin belt I had brought that I wore under the dress.
That morning I had taunted Master Barrett. I know. Stupid, right? The husky dildo had paled for me and even after a quick to the edge masturbation, I was able to calm down and handle my waxing and waning libido without much difficulty. I said some things that might be considered um… let’s see… um… disrespectful? Disobedient? Confrontational? Naughty? To make a long story short, I sort of irritated him. What started off as a pretty benign easy way to end this long, drawn out, terribly intense assignment, morphed into a massive pain filled, sexually tormenting activity that I would barely manage to get through. The husky dildo changed into vibro balls. A clothespin wound up on my clit. A butt plug went in my ass, coated with Icy Hot, with the lubrication meant to be renewed hourly. My bag had other supplies as well: a long plastic ruler, meant to be used on my clit, and of course the one other little toy that I loved almost as much as I loved my anal plugs; my alligator clit clamp.
Master Barrett’s instructions had been modified as well. Oh sure, I was still to service eleven people with all the same stipulations as before. But now between each “client” I was to deliver a stroke matching their number. Client number one would get one stroke to my clit. Client seven got seven. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to Client eleven. On the flip side, I would get to remove the clothespin for those strokes. Small blessing right?
Oh, but what if I screwed up? Orgasmed myself before reaching the magic number? Start over, just like before, except the clothespin was to be replaced with the alligator clamp. What fun.
Dressed like a slut, with half my ass hanging out of the bottom of my dress, I shoved my clothes back into the bag and slung it back into the truck. A car roared by, but by that time I was already behind the wheel, my bare ass sticking to the vinyl seat thanks to the shortness of my dress. I gave a little tsking sound at their bad luck, started the engine, and headed toward the freeway.
I knew exactly where I was headed, and those of you who have read my posts on Michael Alexander’s blog are probably familiar with it. I’ve spent some interesting times there. Tucked under the overpass at the Sam Houston Beltway is a novelty shop. If you make it past the ancient and moldering magazines that no one ever buys in the front, you can find yourself in a rather shoddy DVD and VHS sexual haven. The shelves are wooden and rickety, and along one wall is a door, with neon letters above it spelling “arcade”. For a few dollars you get a cup of coins, enter, and find yourself in a darkened myrk with tiny rooms, the sound of porn music filtering through flimsy doors, piles of coins that don’t work in any of the machines, and the smell of spilled cum and sex. It isn’t really a nice place.
But it was perfect for my purposes. There were two or three cars parked outside, though those might have been for the um… Asian Massage next door. I’m no dummy. Massage my ass. Or they could have been there for the small pub... on a Sunday afternoon, parked at the other end of the little strip of stores. Yeah right. Anyway, I sauntered in, went to the counter, bought my little cup of meaningless coins, and surveyed the open store. Two guys were there, quietly browsing. They both stared at me as I swished my hips, gave them both million watt meet me in the arcade so we can get it on smiles, and then disappeared into the darkness.
I took one tour around the arcade. Two rooms were shut, right next to each other, and from the sounds coming from them I suspected that two gay guys were having a glory hole experience. I shudder to think of that. I left them to their amusements and continued around the dark hallway. Every open door exposed pretty much the same small room. Closet sized cubical, bench, old television, one channel, different movies, and a coin operated slot that didn’t seem to work or need coins. Strange.
By the time I came back to the door out, one of the guys from the main area had purchased a cup of coins and followed me in. I gave him a smile, drew him in with a curling finger, and we disappeared into the first available cubicle. There really isn’t much to say here. He was of average height, average weight, rather non-descript except for his thin hair. He smelled of old aftershave and his cock had a rather acrid taste, probably from masturbation. I did my thing, let him explode on my face, licked things up and then asked him to let the next guy know that I’d open the door in a moment when I was ready.
He left, I heard conversation, and I sat back on the bench, spread my legs, removed my clothespin and gave myself one hard smack right on the clit. I gasped and clenched my teeth as the pain rushed through me. Shaking slightly, I put the clothespin back on, tucked the ruler back in the bag, and opened the door. There was a line. Four guys already. I smiled at them all, grabbed number two, and repeated the process. Everything went well, I delivered another quality product, and fifteen minutes later I was once again ensconced in privacy, long enough to remove the clothespin from my clit, deliver two stinging brutal smacks to my pussy, and then relubricate my butt plug.
Guy number three was a bit more demanding. He wanted sex, but I told him I was only doing blow jobs. He got a bit threatening and I had to get up in his face and explain that he could have a blowjob for free or get the fuck out of my cubicle and go pay one of the Asian massage whores for a fuck. He chose the freebee, but it was touch and go there for a moment. After he left, I smacked myself a little harder than I should have during the three clitoral strokes, raising enough of a ruckus that when I opened the door for number four he asked if I was okay. The line had stretched out and now there were several more guys in the hallway, each waiting their turn. I explained that I was spanking my clit between clients and that it was okay. It didn’t seem to phase any of them.
Client number four was probably the nicest. He was conciliatory, sweet, and even wanted to return the oral favor. My face was splattered with cum, my dress had streaks on it, and he wanted to lick me! How awesome is that? I declined though, but I did take off my dress after he left, leaving me naked except for the heels, the belt, and my remote. I delivered the four strokes to my clit which left me breathless, shaking, and just a little desperate.
Guy number five was not in the same mold as the others. He was clean shaven, neat, and looked slightly out of place in such a shoddy establishment. He came into the cubicle with an amazing amount of confidence and pulled out his cock and jammed it down my throat without even letting me stroke him first. I’ve been face fucked before, but the way he forced his cock into my mouth told me he was experienced at skull fucking girls. I gagged, choked, almost hurled, and basically spent ten minutes rattling around on the end of his cock. I didn’t even try to give him a blow job. His hands roamed over my back as well as entangled in my hair and then he reached down, grabbed the remote, and extracted his cock from my mouth.
“What’s this?” he asked.
I swallowed and stretched my jaw, taking advantage of the opportunity before replying. “My vibroballs” I said, just before the low setting got changed to its maximum. I moaned as the golf ball sized ovals in my pussy roared to life and in seconds I was shaking. I tried to hold off the orgasm, but there was no way and then my mouth was plugged again. I came, pinned to the man’s cock with his hands as I screamed. He exploded in my mouth, filling me, forcing me to swallow, holding me there as I tried to get all of it down my gullet, knowing I’d choke if I didn’t. His cock was so deep I didn’t even taste it, just felt it sliding down my throat.
When he was done, he wiped his cock off on my hair. Then he picked me up, deposited me on the bench, spread my legs with a rather brutal push and forced my high heel clad feet up next to my thighs, spreading me obscenely. My ruler was lying there next to me and he yanked off the clothespin, eliciting a rather harsh cry from my lubricated throat. Then, with the vibroballs still churning inside me, he raised the ruler.
I whispered, trying to catch my breath and my voice at the same time “just five please!”
The ruler impacted against my clit, burning away any last veneer of control I had and I shook as he smacked me. He hit much harder than I had in soon my hips were thrusting, presenting my pussy in the most lewd and obscene manner possible. When we finished the fifth, he held up the ruler, forced me to kiss it, and then told me that now my five were finished, it was his turn to give me HIS five. Before I could object, he started again.
Thank God he went fast. It didn’t matter of course because I came again. When he was finished, he pinched my nipples, slapped my breasts a bit, and then left me on the floor of the cubicle. Guy number six looked in on me in surprise, except now he was guy number one. I trembled as I found the remote and turned it to low. The door closed and I asked guy number one if he’d be kind enough to find my clothespin. I spread my legs for him as he put it on my clit and I sucked in my breath. Then I gave him his blowjob.
I know. I know! Most of you are already screaming “WAIT! You were supposed to put on the Alligator CLAMP! I KNOW! I FORGOT! Okay? Geeze! Do you have any idea what I was going through then? What I had just endured? How about I suck you off and then punch you in the balls while you cum, and then you can remember what’s on your shopping list for the day! See if you can recite all the lyrics to the Star Spangled Banner! Give me a fucking break! Even Master Barrett let that one pass when I confessed to him on Monday!
So, with one orgasm out of the way, my clit clothespin clamped, and the vibroballs at their lowest setting, I set about reworking my way up through the ranks. After number one had cum, I handed him the ruler, sat up on the bench, assumed the spread position with my feet up on the bench so I sort of looked frog like, my breast mashed between my arms, and let him give me a single stroke to the clit. Right after removing the clothespin. He didn’t hit hard, but he liked it and then I was inviting number two into the cubicle.
I’m not going to sit here and describe each and every blowjob. Suffice it to say, I saw a lot of cock. My clit got more and more tender, and my ass was a burning stinging convulsing hole that kept squeezing the plug harder and harder. Everything went exactly the way you would expect, until I got to number nine. Number nine was a woman; a large, rather portly lady whom looked oddly familiar. I’m not sure, but I think she was the sales clerk from up front. Not positive. Can’t prove it. Just suspect. She came into the stall, pulled off her pants and granny panties, sat down on the bench and spread her legs.
Uggh… she was hairy, wet, and just a tad yucky. I held my breath to be honest. I worked on her clit the whole time, avoiding running my tongue through her slit. She held my head and called me nasty names. Bitch. Slut. Whore. Cunt. Fuckslut. The list just went on. I’m not into being called names, but I really couldn’t object. Finally, when she came, I managed to pull back in time to avoid the worst of the spray. She stood, got herself dressed, and then told me to lean back against the wall. I felt the tickle of the television screen on my back as I tilted backward and then she was whacking my clit with the ruler, the clothespin still on. I screamed and went to cover my crotch, but she changed her stroke and the ruler hit my breast. My hands didn’t know which way to go and she reached out with one meaty hand, grabbed my nipple and twisted. Her words were pretty harsh.
“Get your hands behind your neck and don’t move them or I’ll go get a pair of cuffs and leave you like that for the rest of your line.”
I did as ordered. My thighs trembled as she lifted the ruler again and then I was just yelling as the ruler struck the clothespin.
In hindsight, she probably wasn’t hitting me that hard, at least not on the clit. My breasts still have a few welts on them though. She alternated between my clit and my tits, so things were pretty intense. At least she didn’t alter the setting on the vibroballs. The pain roared through me but I managed to hold it back. After way more than nine strokes she dropped the ruler, kissed me, and then left.
I fell to my knees, tears flowing down my cum spattered face and then number ten was there, his cock already out, pushing the head into my mouth.
The last two guys were pretty easy. No serious abuse, no unsolicited spankings. After I endured the last twelve strokes I gathered myself up, opened the door and saw four more guys standing there. I pointed to the last guy in line.
“You’re it. Last client. Blowjobs are free, fucking is a hundred bucks.”
Surprised? Don’t be. I was ready to cum and all four of the guys in the hall looked semi-decent. Of course by that point I would have fucked a baseball bat and a cactus had they walked in. Guy number thirteen forked over five twenties and I tucked them away. Then I removed the vibroballs and the clothespin, got his cock out, did some quick slurpy stuff, put a condom on him (I had brought a bunch in my bag) sat him on the bench and straddled him. My breasts were in his face, his cock was in my cunt, and we moved like that for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. I guess he didn’t mind the fact that I was covered with spooge. He came and I dropped the condom in the corner.
Number fourteen went the same way, except I came that time. It was glorious. I shook and shuddered my way through an endorphin high and exploded passionately. I clung to my paramour and then let him do his thing. Guys number fifteen and sixteen weren’t much different that thirteen and fourteen. I exploded on the last one, enjoying the sensation of pulsing cock.
There were more guys out in the hall but I made my apologies as I slipped back into my dress. The vibroballs went back in, on low of course, the remote tucked into my belt. The clothespin wobbled from my clit as I gathered up my scattered belongings and headed out. There were a number of pinches and pats as I made my way past the few guys who had come to late and weren’t lucky, but I told them I’d be there tomorrow. I didn’t go of course, I was busy, but it got me past them without having issues.
The clerk at the counter was different, so I couldn’t be sure if the one woman who came into the arcade was the clerk from when I got there. The new lady looked at me with this disgusted grimace and ignored me as I made my way out and too my truck. In the rearview mirror I looked at myself. I was a mess. A total disaster. There was no way I was going to be able to go home like this. Since I was already half way to Kari’s place, I called, warned her I was coming, and headed toward her apartment.
It was dark already and I stumbled up the stairs of her apartment complex to the third floor. The balcony lights were already on and there were still people moving about. I carried my bag, since I had every intention of getting dressed in my earlier outfit after showering. I knocked, exhausted, cum-soaked, and looking like hell. I let out a smile of relief as Kari opened the door and took one look at me. Her blonde hair was freshly combed and immaculate. Her blue jeans were the latest fashion and cut. Her black ruffled blouse looked like it cost two or three hundred dollars. Diamonds glittered in her ears and across her throat. Her eyes hardened like agates.
“You know better than to knock on my door, seeking sanctuary, while dressed,” she said abruptly. Then the door closed in my face.
I stood there in shock. I just hadn’t been expecting it. Slowly, I put down my bag. I grabbed the hem of my electric blue dress and pulled it up over my body, exposing my breasts, my clothespin clamped pussy, and the fact that I was wearing vibroballs thanks to the leather belt and the remote in plain view. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the knowledge that anyone could see me. I knocked again, then put my arms down at my side. I looked downward and waited. Thirty seconds. Then a minute. I wondered if she was going to let me in.
Then the door opened and her hand reached out. She took mine and pulled me into the warmth and the light and the love.
“Come on, Breanne. Let’s get you cleaned up.”