Well, the computer was sick. And I mean seriously sick. Something about a hard drive and “blue screen of death”. At least that’s what the guy with the tie and short sleeve white shirt said. Anyway, I ended up with EVERYTHING gone. All my programs and files WIPED. Sigh. And then there was the question: Did you back up anything? Uh? You’re supposed to back up stuff? Well, it turned out that I had. I’ve got Norton and evidently part of the “check for viruses” stuff ALSO backs up your hard drive. So I got it all back. Pretty cool huh? Yeah. I know. You don’t care about my computer problems.
But those aren’t my only problems. And for those of you muttering “no kidding”, I’m not talking about my psychological ones, or my sexual addiction ones. I’m talking cramps. And moodiness. Lots and lots of moodiness. So be nice to me.
Not only that, but I’m still sore from last week. What happened last week? Oh… nothing much. Just duct tape strips filled with tacks. Granted, short little tacks, but when your bra and panties are lined (in certain spots) with the damned things, it’s not pleasant. Evidently Master Barrett thought I deserved a little bit of punishment for being… uh… me, I guess. So I went a full five days. Of course, that wasn’t the worst part of the punishment. The worst part was that I wasn’t allowed to cum. Unless I BOUGHT an orgasm. Purchase price? Pouring lemon juice over my body, in the shower, where I could then masturbate. Have you any clue what that felt like? The first night I was sore and horny and my breasts had all these little red dots all over them. I had one of those huge bottles of lemon juice I bought at the store, which had been a trial all by itself. One of those strips of tack lined duct tape had been in my panties as well, so every step drove those little spikes into my pussy. Not deep. I didn’t bleed, at least not that first day. But I felt it. A lot. Photo from Under His Hand Blog (Awesome site!)
So there I was, standing in the shower, more than a little desperate, naked (of course), with the water off, ready to orgasm. I lifted the lemon juice to my chin and poured a very generous amount right onto my throat. It cascaded down and the pain hit.
Have you ever had a paper cut and poured lemon juice on it? How about a scratched up knee and treated it with iodine? Or maybe no-see-um bites followed by a jump in the ocean. All I knew was that suddenly someone had decided to stick about a thousand invisible needles into my tits. I dropped the bottle, grabbed my breasts with both hands and just endured.
For about four more seconds. That’s when the lemon juice hit my pussy. Granted, the damage there was not as intense as what had happened to my breasts, but it was still bad. The tingling burning sensation intensified and I couldn’t help moving one hand downward, even as my body began curling up, sinking to the bathtub floor. My fingers drove into my sex, trying to wipe away the virtual needles, but ended up moving inward. And it was that moment that changed things. As my hand plunged into my pussy, spreading, thrusting, forcing, the need and lust I had felt all fucking day suddenly roared back to life. Suddenly my breasts weren’t on fire, they were being whipped, the pain rushing down to my clit. My pussy burned, but that fire was quickly replaced by another as the juices rolled out of me, coating my petals and washing away the lemon juice. I’m sure had anyone seen me, it would have been quite a sight. Naked girl, one arm pressed tightly to her breasts, gasping, with the other hand buried between her legs, collapsed in a bathtub, surrounded by a slowly draining puddle of lemon juice. Yum, right?
After I came I struggled to my feet and got the water going. Even cold I stuck my tits right into the stream. It eased the burning, but since the water was near forty degrees, it chilled me pretty good. I adjusted the water temp until it was my more normal sauna temp and washed away the lemon juice, my orgasm, and even tried to rub away the tenderness.
My shower ended and I toweled dry, brushed my hair, then my teeth. I had been wearing my ben wa balls the entire day, but had washed them before getting in the shower. Due to the nature of my punishment, I wasn’t allowed to follow NHPS Rule #1 with anything that would block access to my labia. So I was pretty much limited to my ben wa balls and my vibroballs. At that point, there was no way I was putting in the vibroballs, so the two latex covered golf ball sized spheres got reinserted. They rolled a bit, but I’m used to it, and I had just cum anyway. I headed back to my room.
Still naked and wrapped only in a towel, I moved to my desk, pulled out a roll of thick silver duct tape, and began preparations. The strips that had been in my bra were still good, so I left them there. The one in my panties? Well, it had suffered some moisture damage and some of the tacks had come loose. Let’s face it folks. I seriously doubt the makers of duct tape ever tested to see if the adhesive could withstand a full fourteen hours of pussy juice. And tomorrow it would have to withstand even more. A full twenty four! This time, I layered things. On one strip I placed the tacks. It took awhile. You can get six tacks on a strip of duct tape going width wise (almost seven, but it hangs over and I opted for six). If your strip is six inches long, that’s a lot of tacks. Once they were in nice little rows, I took ANOTHER six inch strip, laid it atop the tack points, and pushed until the spikes penetrated, leaving me with a strip of duct tape, silver on both sides, with one side holding rows of nice one millimeter long spikes. A third strip of duct tape, almost a foot long and looped kept the strip nicely in the crotch of my fresh panties and I gingerly pulled them upward until I felt the sharp little tips against my delicate parts. I still can’t believe I did this. Then I put my bra back on.
Too sleep? Yep. That was part of the arrangement. Thank God I’m not a stomach sleeper. It was hard enough sleeping as it was. You try it sometime. Like sleeping on a bed of nails, except having them only in certain spots. It was tough to fall asleep. The tacks kept pricking me with every movement and it was tough to find a position to sleep in, but eventually I faded off to sleep.
The alarm woke me the next morning and careful examination revealed I hadn’t cut myself or bled during the night. When you sleep with underwear filled with sharp tacks, that’s a concern! I got dressed (nothing tight) and headed out to do my chores. I guess I should mention the bra situation. I wear a 36b, which means my breasts are about the size of oranges. I’m not sixteen any more, but they still are very nice. I can go bare breasted, or wear a halter without a bra and it doesn’t look bad. Usually though I do wear a bra, at least for normal wear, and I wear a typical bra, complete with shoulder straps and under wire. Master Barrett wanted me to be sure to keep my bra tight, and I admit, I did pull the straps a little tighter, but that just made me ache, it didn’t CUP my breasts any more. Sorry Master Barrett. But I CAN promise you that I felt those tiny pin pricks. All the time. With every swing of my arms. It was awful! As was what was going on between my legs.
My new strip of tack lined duct tape had literally folded, right in half, and become slightly wedged IN my pussy. I had attempted to correct it several times, but it just kept riding right on up. It drove me crazy in a sexual way, almost more intense than wearing ben wa balls. So I spent the day tugging the tacks and tape out of my pussy. Once it moved down toward my ass, scratching up that tender spot between your rear end and your pussy. Talk about ouch. And through it all the need to orgasm was building and building and building. That night in the shower I was once again desperate.
Tentatively, and with just a bit of trepidation, I once again poured a liberal amount of lemon juice on my breasts. I clenched my teeth, trying to keep from screaming, which came out a sort of this high keening gasp, and then I had my husky dildo at my burning pussy, thrusting upward and fucking my brains out. I didn’t collapse into the tub this time. I sank down, propped my feet up, and went to town.
Oh god… release. It was wonderful.
An after shower examination in the mirror revealed about a zillion little red dots evenly spaced all over my breasts. There were also a couple of scratches a few millimeters long, where my bra had shifted during the course of the day. But all in all, I was doing okay. I wore the vibroballs next, planning on spending my Wednesday quietly. To be honest, if the ben wa balls are off, they are much less… noticeable… than my ben wa balls. I put on my bra, and then my panties, and fell asleep with tacks literally in my pussy.
Wednesday was a basic repeat of Tuesday, except for one thing. My computer died. Seriously died. The BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH died. I took it in, wincing a bit. When you carry a large CPU into a store, when your bra is stuffed with tacks and walking is a bit strained from the tack tape wedgie you’re getting, you wince a bit. I made it to the counter, got the paperwork filled out, and headed home. My breasts were really hurting on the drive home and when I got back to the farm I went to the bathroom and checked. This time I WAS bleeding, just a bit, where one of the tacks had been driven deep into the side of my breast. It was nothing a band-aid couldn’t take care of, so I put some Neosporin on it and patched it up. Then the bra went back on. Wednesday ended with me in control, rather than my pussy. I decided to forgo my lemon juice shower, cleaned and re-inserted the vibroballs after cleaning up, and even managed to get to sleep, heading into Thursday with only one minor wound and with my libido under control.
Evidently wearing the vibroballs was a much better idea than the ben wa balls. Thursday dawned bright and clear and I got my chores done, still walking around like an insane person. Insane as in “I’ve got tacks in my drawers” insane. The strip in my crotch was no permanently embedded in my pussy, which was both blessing and curse. It meant walking and sitting wasn’t as much a problem anymore, (though I admit running was out). The real problem was pulsing. I have a tendency to tighten my pussy muscles when I get horny. Sort of like kegal exercises.
Thanks to that strip of tacks, my mind was constantly on my pussy, thus I was constantly “pulsing”. This meant that I was pressing the petals of my sex against the tape almost every few minutes. This drove me crazy. Yes. I mean crazy. Not like “sexually crazy”, but like “stupid crazy”. Stupid crazy as in I turned on the vibroballs. Yes. You read that correctly. I turned on the vibroballs. I was out at Wal-Mart when I did it. I couldn’t help myself. It just sort of happened. I was standing there, looking at some shirts, my pussy pulsing against the tacks and I just pulled the remote out of my pocket, the wire disappearing into my waist band, and I cranked the vibroballs up to medium.
Master Barrett had provided a secondary outlet for orgasm in his original punishment. Besides lemon juice baths I mean. I was allowed to “purchase” orgasms. The cost? Twenty hugs. Of Strangers. Thus giving me a minute to “hump” the twentieth stranger and hopefully orgasm. I started my campaign. One nice thing about Wal-Mart, there are plenty of single guys walking around. You just have to hang out in either the electronics section, or the sports section and they come. Since I was wearing khaki shorts and a tee shirt, along with flip flops, tack lined panties and bra, not to mention a buzzing set of vibroballs, I was well dressed for the occasion.
It was terribly easy. I’d walk up to a guy (I tried to go for cute ones), and ask them if I could give them a hug. I tried to explain it away with that “feel good” stuff, you know… like the hugging judge? Anyway, evidently lots of people like hugging pretty girls. And it was agony. Tight hugs did what tightening the bra straps didn’t. Within ten or fifteen hugs, my breasts must have been perforated a zillion times. Now they hurt even without lemon juice. The only thing keeping me going was the vibroballs, which I turned up to maximum when I got to my eighteenth guy. He about crushed my ribs and my breasts felt like pin cushions but I got through it. Nineteen was about the same. Twenty… well twenty took me a bit to find. I was looking for the right guy, but I was also under a bit of pressure. The vibroballs were driving me crazy and my breasts felt as if I’d been caned.
What I needed was a geeky sort of nerdy guy who would let me hump his leg. What kind of world is this where a nympho humiliation pain slut has to “hump” a guy’s leg? What am I? Some sort of dog? I found him in the computer program aisle and he was browsing the computer games. Complete with glasses, plaid button up shirt, and khaki pants. Even just a touch over weight. I stepped up next to him, flashed him one of my million watt please let me hump your leg smiles and pretend to look at one of the games.
Yuck. World of Warcraft. I’ve never played it, but I’ve sent he blank stares and mind numbing results of this phenomenal birth control device. I know what you’re asking right now. “Birth control device?” huh? Yes. Birth Control Device. Because when guys play WOW they aren’t having sex. And since they play a lot of WOW it’s a birth control device. But you should of seen the guy’s eyes widen.
“Do you play?” he asked. I guess chicks who play World of Warcraft are cool or something. I shook my head.
“No, but I’m considering it. Is it hard?” That netted me an almost ten minute monolog on how wonderful WOW is and how easy it is to play and how fun it is to play and oh yes, how to earn gild or gold or money or something. I swear my eyes glazed over and I seriously considered taking my own life. Finally, in between some breaths, I broke in and asked him if he could teach me to play.
He blinked. “Uh sure.”
I licked my lips. “I have a weird habit though. It might be a bit disturbing.” His eyebrow went up.
I leaned in close, close enough for the tips of my tack tormented breasts to touch his arm. I looked at him conspiratorially and whispered. “I like to play naked.”
I’m still laughing about that. You should have seen the look on his face. I followed it up with “are you still willing to teach me?”
He blinked again, finally making the connection. “Really?”
I nodded. “Just one more thing though. I like having a vibrator up inside me when I work on the computer. That won’t like… disturb you, would it?”
His head shook side to side, his eyes wide, the grin on his face huge. It was like it was Christmas for this guy. So I got his name and address, which I’m not about to post here, and I even set up a date for the first weekend of November for me to go over to his house and play some WOW. We’ll see how good of a birth control device it is for me. (Not that I need it, lol. I had those springs put inside me to block my tubes!)
Once we were done exchanging numbers and stuff, I reached up, and hugged him, hard. By this time I was pretty desperate and I clung to him, my hips rubbing my crotch against his leg as I held on to him. He didn’t break my grip on him as I clearly humped his leg. The tacks bit into me and I could even feel a few on my clit. It was very intense. Then I whimpered slightly as the orgasm shot through me and I groaned.
He looked down at me. “Did you just… uh…what was that?” he asked.
I shuddered and took a deep breath, face flushed and satisfied. I gave him a smile, a chaste kiss on the cheek and said “You’ll find out next weekend.” Then I waved and headed out of the store.
That evening I took another shower, starting things off with lemon juice. It burned. It hurt. I came.
Friday was not nearly so intense. My breasts were starting to be really sore and even touching them caused instant pain. It wasn’t very sexual either. The ben wa balls actually helped mitigate some of the more irritating discomfort. But the real issue was the crotch tacks. I had to remake the tape strip from the previous day because my juices had done some unpleasant things to the adhesive and made things a bit of a mess. The real problem however was the tiny scratches INSIDE my pussy lips, little red lines of tender soreness. It looked like I had gotten my pussy flayed… by another pussy. A pussy cat to be precise.
As the day progressed my walk moved from normal to this waddling bowlegged attempt to keep the tacks from scratching me any more deeply. I didn’t lemon juice shower that night. Sure, I was horny, but the thought of the sting, in my sex, was just too much of a downer. I replaced the ben wa balls with my vibroballs and went to bed. Saturday morning however I woke up really horny. I have no idea why. Things were just intense. I took off my bra to check out my bosom and saw that both breasts were covered in tiny red dots. Pin cushion to the max. Anyway, wincing I put my bra back on and headed out to do my chores.
My day went normally. Saturdays are easy days for me and to be honest, nothing particularly exciting happened. My computer was still in the shop being repaired and frankly I had already been pricked and prodded enough to last me a week. That and denying me orgasmic release, and I felt well and truly punished. And that is that. Of course, when I got my computer back Wednesday evening, and checked my email the next morning, I found this little gem in my box:
I assume that everything is fine and you are enjoying yourself being a human pin cushion, which is good as I've been thinking it would be stupid to end this little task on Saturday as that would be only 2 days from you completing a full week, so I think we'll move the end date back to midnight Monday. Also as you haven't got your usual amount of extra exercise from fucking this week due to the restraints you made me place you under. I feel it would be a good idea for you to complete 5 NHPS push-ups every hour on the hour for the rest of your task. NHPS push-ups differ from normal push-ups in that in order to ensure you complete the push-up correctly you must clap your hands together behind your back at the "bottom" of every push up. Admittedly this will mean that you will be lying on your tits and the tacks while you clap but that’s the price of fitness! No pain no gain and all that. Oops almost forgot, you had better smack your pussy 5 times with a ruler every hour also don't want your tits getting all the attention do we?
I can’t tell you what getting this email, almost five days after stopping the punishment, meant to me. But I can tell you one thing. I suspect that I’ll be wearing that tack filled bra again soon. And that I’ll be doing NHPS push-ups too.
Friday’s Task: No Release For You. Assigned by Master Mark Just because your time of the month means you can’t have sexual release, doesn’t mean you can’t give it to others. You will dress in tight blue jeans, and a dress up shirt, no bra, with whatever foot wear you desire. You will also wear your butterfly clitoral vibrator OVER your panties. You will then drive somewhere you think it possible to locate a stranger you can give a blow job too. The moment you arrive at this area, you will turn your butterfly to low. Should you be unsuccessful in finding an appropriate blowjob buddy within the first five minutes, you are too turn the butterfly to high until you do. You will then give your new blowjob buddy a blowjob. Should you orgasm, either vaginally or clitorally during this assignment, you will ask your BJ Buddy to spank you, through your jeans, ten times, as hard as possible. If he refuses you are to remove your shirt, present your breasts, and ask him to slap your breasts ten times as hard as he can. After completing the blowjob and any punishment required (the offering is the punishment. You’re lucky if he refuses), you will turn off the butterfly and drive home. When you arrive home you will stick your vibrating butt plug into your rear, turn it to low, and wear it until the following morning.