Daily Assignment 09-31-2010

Friday morning dawned bright and as usual I started my day by reaching between my legs, pulling my husky dildo out part way, and then rammed it back in. I was a little irritable though that morning because I wasn’t too happy about certain restrictions placed upon me by Kari, my former mistress. I had agreed a few weeks ago to model at one of her interior design showings and Kari wanted me unmarked and unblemished. She specifically forbidden me to clamp myself, scratch, whip, welt, strike, or otherwise mark my skin in any way, or to let others do it. I was too consider it an assignment.

So my clothespins remained in the desk drawer as did some of my more esoteric toys. Even my morning chat with my various online masters and mistress went rather passively, with only an abortive masturbation session in the works before my mom called me down for breakfast.

However, despite the restrictions placed upon me, Mistress Ellen managed to put together a rather nice little assignment to keep my juices flowing; one that would respect Kari’s requirements while driving me over the edge. So after breakfast I went up to my room, packed my bag, told my mom I was heading out to do some shopping, and off I went.

My first stop was the farm to market road at the south end of our property. I was wearing a pair of denim jeans, complete with boots, button down shirt, white cotton panties, and a white bra. I’m sure I looked very country girlish, but it wasn’t exactly fit for the assignment I was about to do. I stopped the truck, got out, and moved to the front grill.

I’m getting used to doing it. The whole stripping and folding thing. I almost don’t think about it any more. As usual, no one drove by the whole time I was removing and folding and even getting dressed in the micro skirt and halter top. I had eschewed the bra but was still wearing the panties, mostly because the husky dildo won’t stay in unless something is holding it in place. The skirt made walking a bit awkward, especially with an inch’s worth of the rubber testicles hanging down from the bottom of the nine inch long four inch wide cock up inside me, but hey… we all make sacrifices. Besides, I knew I wouldn’t have the Husky in much longer. I capped it all off with a pair of open toed three inch stiletto heels. Knock ‘em dead BREANNE!

I drove east this time and headed north on 6 until I found a decent strip mall. My instructions were very simple. I was to visit seven different stores. In each one I was too approach either a clerk or a customer, explain to them that I had a vibrator in my pussy, and ask them if they wanted to see. If they said yes, I was too lift my skirt, rip the strip of silver duct tape holding the vibrator in from off my pussy, and then turn the vibrator up just a tad. Then I was to tape it back in place and move along. I was wearing my g spot curved pink vibrator, so it had one of those dials at the bottom for turning it up. I could easily make that last.

Still in my truck I wriggled out of my panties. I admit, I sort of masturbated for a little while with the Husky dildo before finally pulling it out. I licked it clean though, before putting it away. Then I opened my bag, pulled out the roll of duct tape and my curved vibrator, turned it to the lowest setting, and pushed it into my pussy. It felt incredible. I was terribly horny. I hadn’t exploded since like five that morning, so it had been a full four or five hours since my last orgasm. Also, I had spent an hour or so discussing what new sex toys to buy with Master Barrett, so I was pretty charged.

I tore off a strip of duct tape that measured approximately eight or nine inches. I know that duct tape adhesive is not very compatible with pussy juice, so I made sure that two inches of the tape was securely attached to my mons before it stretched down to hold the base of the vibrator in place. I rotated my hips, lifting my ass off the seat of the truck until I felt the strip of duct tape touch my bottom and I sort of made sure it got caught in the crack of my ass.

Then I stuffed the tape in my bag, swung the strap over my shoulder, and headed out. The first thing I realized was that I had a couple of options. There was an eyeglasses place, a panderia (Mexican Bakery! Yummy!), a sex spa (which I did NOT go in), a sign place, and a couple of other little fun places as well.

My first stop was the eyeglasses place and I opened the door with a jingle.

Uh… no. I didn’t sing. There was a bell on the door. Duh.

Inside I found a very nice gentleman, with graying hair, glasses (of course), and a thick walrus mustache. He was very much alone and he gave me a serious eyefucking as he smiled and greeted me. I sauntered and swished my way up to the counter, put my elbows on the glass, and leaned down, making sure that he could see clearly.

“So what can I do for you, miss?” he asked professionally. I gave him one of my million watt please focus those big brown eyes on my pussy and let me turn this vibrator up smiles.

I batted my lashes. “It’s more like, what I can do for you” I whispered. I leaned in again, mashing my breasts against the counter. It had the additional affect of opening up even more of my cleavage. He wasn’t looking at my face.

“I’m wearing a vibrator inside me right now. Would you like to see it?” I asked.

He stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “You’re from that spa aren’t you?” he asked suspiciously.

I laughed. “Not in the least. They make you pay for it,” I replied. I took one step back and lifted my skirt, showing him my bare crotch. Bare except for the duct tape.

“Why are you wearing duct tape?” he asked, now curious. I laughed again, a rich lusty chuckle.

“Too keep the vibrator in. Did you want to see it?” I asked again.

He nodded. My skirt was that spandex like stuff so it stayed up as I stepped closer to him. I came slightly around the counter, reached out, and pulled the glasses off his face.

“Here, let me clean these so you can see better,” I said. I lifted my shirt, totally exposing both breasts, and made a bit of a show of wiping his glasses off. I don’t know how nearsighted he was, but they were like soda bottles! I handed them back and didn’t bother to readjust my shirt, leaving my breasts hanging out. Then I winced as I peeled a bit of the tape away from above my pussy.

Let me tell you that ripping duct tape off your pussy is not the most entertaining thing in the world. Even though I was wet, the adhesive had done a good job and my labia stuck to the silver tape as I tugged. I freed the vibrator, pulled it out humming, and then turned it up just a tad. I gave it one sexual lick and then stuck it back in. Since one end of the tape was still securely stuck in my ass crack, I just put everything back in place. To my surprise, I didn’t need a new strip of tape.

The glasses guy was astonished. Delighted of course, but astonished. Then I moved forward, putting my hand on his cock. It was hard.

“Can I take care of that for you?” I asked. He nodded his assent.

Yes, I blew him. It was quick. I kept my shirt up which made things go even faster and I swallowed his spunk too. Then I stood up, trying to keep the orgasmic sensations I was feeling under control, lowered my shirt, gave him a chaste kiss, and left. So what?

The next store I stepped into was a gun shop. Hey, this is Texas. We have gun shops on every corner. The classic Texas joke is that the ATF (Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms agency) should be a convenience store, not a law enforcement agency. There are enough guns in the state to arm every man, woman and child with three each. Oh… and I own a gun too. My dad taught me to shoot when I was eight and I still enjoy it. I learned on a Browning 9mil Hi-Power, but I shoot a Glock 17 now. I sometimes take my dad’s .45 Colt 1911 out, but it beats up my hands.

What? Is this a problem?

Anyway, I’m comfortable around guns, especially if I’m the one holding them. Of course, I’ve never ever fucked one, since dad taught me the first rule of gun handling is that all guns are loaded. Maybe I should by a water pistol and screw that instead. So I went in the gun store and like the eyeglasses place, there weren’t any customers. Inside were two clerks, both of them middle aged. They eyed me with conservative suspicion, though I got eyefucked by both as well.

I started off by asking if they were carrying that new Taurus 738 TCP .380 I read about in my dad’s gun magazine. Dad’s pushing me to go get my concealed carry permit, which probably isn’t a bad idea, but it’ll be a little weird carrying a gun and condoms in the same purse. Of course, I don’t actually HAVE to carry. Well…that’s an argument for another time.

My light banter and question gave the two guys an opening and lessoned their suspicion of me. There is no better way to break the ice with gun-officiandos than by talking their language. We discussed caliber, stopping power, my size, my hand size, and even carry methods. This all took ten minutes and there were actually a few moments when they looked at my face instead of my tits.

Well, they didn’t have the new Taurus, so I sighed and then dropped my real bomb. I told them I’d have to come back another day when they had it, but that the vibrator in my pussy was driving me crazy and I needed to move along.

It was like I had said “I’m a suicide bomber and I’m here to kill you.” The silence was deafening.

The first guy finally said “what?” I responded by pulling up my skirt and pointing to the duct tape which was still nicely covering up my private spots. Their eyes popped out of their skulls and rolled off the counter on to the floor.

That’s a metaphor of course.

“You’ve got a vibrator up in there?” I nodded.

“Wanna see?” I asked. There wasn’t really a response, but silence isn’t a no, so I tugged the duct tape off.

The silver tape was a bit worse than last time. Evidently prolonged exposure to pussy juice just wasn’t good for duct tape. The vibrator started slipping out and I grabbed it and tugged it free. The moment I held it up, wet and glistening, the sound of it’s buzzing filled the store. They looked at me in astonishment and then they laughed.

“Are you some sort of slut?” the first one asked.

“I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut,” I replied. I even told them the website address. How’s that for marketing. Then I gave the vibrator a lick, tasting my tangy salty sweet juice. “Want to put this back in for me?”

A wooden panel was flipped open and suddenly the counter had a walkway in it. The first guy reached out, snagged my wrist and pulled me, gently of course, behind the counter and into the back room. I was deposited on a chair, pushed down. I spread my legs wide, dropped my bag on the floor, and handed him my vibrator.

He fucked me with it for about three minutes and even turned it all the way up. In moments I was so desperate and ready and then I was digging into my bag to find the condoms.

When Gun Guy #1 got done unloading his magazine into my chamber (hehehe!) Gun Guy #2 came in for sloppy seconds. I kegaled him a lot to make up for being second and of course I lifted my shirt, giving him access to my breasts. I got lifted up, turned around, laid across a work bench and screwed doggie style. It was great. I came during the second round and it was very very nice. Finally Gun Guy #2 fired off his shots and we sort of all just glowed in the aftermath. There was the typical exchanging of target information and then I persuaded them that the vibrator needed to go back in.

At first, Gun Guy #1 seemed to have every intention of turning it back to its original setting, just slightly higher than its lowest setting. But as soon as it was in, he jacked it all the way up to a full throated roar, took a piece of pre-torn duct tape, and secured it firmly in place. I was moaning already, my hips grinding as my pussy clamped down on the buzzing stick buried in my twat.

Shaking, I got my attire back in order, which meant I pulled my shirt up and my skirt down. Then I gave out kisses, a promise to come back and buy that Taurus .380, and to get my concealed handgun permit. I waved and stepped back out into the early morning heat.

The next store I visited was (and you’re not going to believe this) a lingerie and sex toy shop. I walked in, was greeted enthusiastically and then began browsing. The nice lady at the counter came out and asked me if I was looking for anything in particular and I explained what I really needed was a vibrator that would stay in and on hands-free. She didn’t have anything on hand like that but made some suggestions. I listened of course and a few of them were actually pretty good. I explained I was using duct tape and her eyes widened slightly. Then I asked her if she wanted to see. She nodded.

I rolled up my skirt and displayed my rather nicely covered duct taped crotch. She gasped, came forward, ran her fingers over my tape concealed pussy, felt the vibrations, and shook her head in astonishment.

“Does it hurt coming off?”

I nodded. “A bit. But I’m a bit of a nympho humiliation pain slut, so I like it.” I gave her one of my smiles. “Want to take it off? I’ve got more in my bag.”

And so I was once again placed on a chair and she slowly tugged the tape off me. It was agonizing. She went really slow. The fresh tape had stuck to my inner as well as outer labia and it pulled in a mixture of pleasure and pain that had me panting. When she found the vibrator on full, she asked me how I could stand it and I told her “frequent fucking”. She grabbed hold of the vibrator, drew it out, pushed it back in, and then began thrusting it in and out.

I came of course. Try sitting with your legs spread while a complete stranger masturbates YOU and see if you can hold off. It also didn’t help the vibrator was on full power when she was doing it. I gripped the chair tight, blubbered slightly, and exploded in a wet squirt.

She turned the vibe off and handed me a few paper towels. I cleaned up, dried off as best I could, then asked her to put the vibe on low and stick it back in. I grabbed my bag, got out some more duct tape and shuddered slightly as my vibrator was reintroduced and taped in. Then I reciprocated. She had her own favorite toy which I used liberally on her clit, alternating it with my tongue. It was fun and I have a new place to buy toys now.

Thirty or so minutes later I moved along and found myself walking into a cobblers. You know… the guys who repair shoes? I have never ever understood that since when my shoes break I go buy new ones. But evidently there are some shoes that are so expensive that you actually repair them rather than running down to DSW and getting a new set. The man at the counter was by himself in the store and he was wearing a leather apron, wore glasses, and looked typically nerdy. Actually, in hindsight, his attire was appropriate for the middle ages as well as today. I guess the art of cobbling hasn’t changed much in six hundred years.

One thing was rather refreshing. He looked at my shoes instead of my tits. I’ve been eyefucked a zillion ways before, but his look of distaste for my manufactured and slightly cheap high heels was very different. He looked up at my face, ignoring my chest, and asked me how he could assist me.

Have you ever noticed how everyone is so customer service conscious in America? I’ve heard stories about other nations that don’t do stuff like that. In any event, my brain kicked into high gear, no doubt because of my wonderful libido, and I told him my shoes were hurting my feet and could he look at them.

“Buy new shoes,” he advised shortly. “With shorter heels.”

I frowned at him. “Please?” I asked again, this time a bit plaintively.

He sighed, rolled his eyes and nodded. “Take them off and I’ll examine them.”

I smiled one of my million watt please fuck me all the way down to my soles smiles, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. Weird. I moved to one of the leather and tack upholstered chairs and held out my foot.

“Give me a hand?” I asked.

I’m not lazy, nor rude, but the truth is I needed him between my legs. Oh, not for fucking, but I knew my skirt had ridden up slightly and that a simple movement would expose my duct tape clad sex and with his head that close to my crotch I was sure he would hear the vibrator. He glared at me, but then came around the counter and crouched down in front of me.

Would you believe he ignored it all? I know he saw up my skirt cause his eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. Nor did he comment on the unusual buzzing noise. Instead he focused on my feet. He took off my heels, and then examined my feet. This perplexed me as he ran his fingers along my heels and the sides of my feet and toes. I asked him what he was doing and he told me that he could determine where problems might be in the shoes by feeling for abrasions and calluses on my feet.

Wow. I had no clue you could do that! I wonder if he does that to his male customers too…

Anyway, his fingers lingered on my feet for a few moments, then he disappeared behind his counter with my heels. Barefoot and buzzing, I stood up and went to the counter. He had moved to his work bench and was sawing rapidly at my heels. I was shocked. I started to protest but he ignored me and in seconds he was finished. He put on two new caps and handed the heels back… a whole inch shorter.

“Your feet won’t hurt as much, nor will your back. I also recommend buying wider shoes. These are not appropriately sized for your width. You need a B.” He handed them back to me. “No charge.”

I admit I was a little irritated. I took my shoes, looked him straight in the eye and said, “you ever have a foot job?”

His eyebrow quirked up and I can tell from his expression he had no clue what I meant. My eyes narrowed and I leaned in a bit more. “Have you ever had a girl rub her feet all over your cock?”

That surprised him but he recovered quickly. “No.” His answer was short and emotionless.

My own voice was slightly tinged with my irritability. “Do you want to?” He looked at me quizzically. I mimicked his sarcastic tone when I said “no charge.”

I could tell he was waffling, wanting to say yes, but not sure if he could. I made the decision for him, yanking off my shirt, exposing both breasts and coming around the counter. He backed up, eyes a little wild and NOW he eyefucked me. I pushed him down into the large leather backed chair he kept behind the counter and immediately went to my knees. I shoved his apron out of the way, unzipped his trouser (yes, real trousers!) and got his cock out. He was sort of semi-hard, which I took care of first with my mouth. Then, once he was nice and stiff, I laid down on the floor, on my back, lifted my bare feet to his cock, and began rubbing.

It wasn’t very good. Without lubrication you really can’t do a lot, but he seemed to enjoy it. Finally I asked if he had any lotion or cream or oil and he literally reached over to his work counter, grabbed a bottle of some sort of oil and then oiled my feet. My god it felt good. Then, with soles nearly as wet as my pussy, I gave him his foot job. After ten minutes he added his spunk to the oil and sighed happily.

I found a spare rag and wiped my toes off. Then I found my shirt, put it back on, and grabbed my now mutilated high heels. I was in the process of putting them on when I heard his voice from the other side of the counter. He still hadn’t risen yet.

“You don’t wear those very often,” he said.

“How can you tell?” I asked, buckling my shoes on.

“You wear boots most of the time. Mostly western style, with an inch heel, correct width, no steel toe.”

I stood up, wobbling slightly on the new shorter length heels. It took me a moment to adjust, though I admit once I did, the shoes were more comfortable. I stepped up to the counter and saw him wiping his soft dick with a paper towel.

“You could tell all that from a footjob masturbation?” I asked, just a tad bit creeped out. He chuckled, a medieval sound, and stood, buttoning up his pants. The leather apron fell back into place and he looked as if nothing had happened.

He gave me a knowing look and a self-satisfied smirk. “It is where your calluses are located. It was stimulating for a footjob.”

I sighed, shrugged, thanked him for the repair work and left. The brass bell on the door rang as it closed behind me and I moved on down the strip mall. I bypassed the salon, but opened the door to the furniture place. It was rather small, but I weaved my way through the forest of beds, sofas, and tables until I was accosted by a young man wearing a pink shirt and powder blue tie. Everything about him screamed “GAY!” but I thought he eyefucked me a bit so I tested out one of the recliners, making sure he saw up my skirt. His eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what the hell I had over my pussy, but I beat him to the punch.

“It’s duct tape. It’s holding in the vibrator,” I explained.

“Vibrator. Wanna see?” I asked.

He nodded. I did a better job of exposing myself, then grabbed the duct tape and pulled it away from my pussy. With it dangling, I pulled out the vibrator as the salesguy busily spent his time checking my pussy out with alternating glances back at the main office where I presume his boss was sitting. I turned the vibe up a bit, put it back in, and then resecured the duct tape. Then I stood up. Mission accomplished. But just to twist the dagger home, I turned to the young salesman.

“Do you get commission?” I asked. He nodded. “I’m interested in buying a new bed, but I like to test the mattress first. Is that permitted?” Another nod. “I didn’t bring a friend along. Would YOU be willing to tie me spread eagled to your best mattress and fuck me silly?”

He did his best interpretation of a fish, complete with these huge eyes, and wide open mouth. I laughed, made sure my skirt was down, and walked away. Just to be really cruel, I swung by the office, stuck my head in, and immediately got the attention of the guy behind the desk. He was going bald, looked a little dumpy, but his eyes lingered on my cleavage.

“I just wanted to file a complaint about your sales clerk. I came in here wanting to buy a bed and he refused to help me test it. I think you need to talk to him about his customer service priorities.” Then I left before he could say anything. When I glanced back through the window there was an animated conversation between the two furniture guys and the young salesclerk was scarlet. I am SOOOOO evil.

It was getting near lunch so I quickly stopped in the sign shop before heading over to the Chinese place on the corner. Once again I was greeted by a single clerk who eyefucked me and was practically drooling while imagining what it would be like to fuck me silly. When asked what I needed, I told him I needed my vibrator turned up. He was very helpful, pulling off the tape, twisting the cap of the vibe (more than a little though, it was almost at full) and the retaping my pussy. I rewarded him with a face full of boobs and a quick rub which left him hard as a rock and wanting my number. I gave him my email address instead.

And so I headed for lunch, my pussy buzzing, my libido at full, and my stomach growling in hunger. The place was a mom and pop establishment and I think the server was their son. Mom was the seater/greeter and Dad must have been the chef. I ordered orange chicken, which is my favorite and got a pretty good meal actually. It was also empty, but then again I was just a tad bit early for lunch. At one point after refilling my drink, my waiter asked if I was all right. I laughed, but looked at him, then leaned close. His eyes were deep in my cleavage.

“Honestly?” I told him, “I wish someone would turn the vibrator buried in my pussy to its full power so I could cum.” He stiffened, gave me a funny look, and then hurried away. I then heard an animated conversation in the kitchen and both Mom and Dad peeked out through the curtained doorway to look at me. I flushed scarlet and tried to hurry my meal. Before I finished however the mom, who looked about fifty years old, came out to my table. She bowed once and then said something in a mix of Chinese and English. Something about satisfaction and come and wet. That’s all I got. I motioned at my plate, since I wasn’t quite done, but she seemed insistent and grabbed my hand and literally pulled me out of the booth.

I followed along on my shorter high heels, oddly glad that I wasn’t wobbling quite as much any more and I was tugged into the kitchen. Large pots, rice steamers, and a variety of smells assaulted me and then Dad the cook was there too and my other hand was grabbed and I was pulled even farther back into the restaurant. Next thing I knew I was being shoved into a storage room where I found the waiter buck naked, cock hard and extended, grinning like he’d won the lottery.

Evidently there was a communication break down here and I tried to back out of the room with my protestations. Nothing doing. Dad had his arms around me in a heart beat and then the mom was pulling up my halter top. The fact I wasn’t wearing a bra just made things even more confusing and the old lady pinched my nipples with an expression as if she were judging me. Before I could stop her my skirt was yanked down and I stood there naked wearing just a foot long strip of duct tape.

Surprise surprise. That got removed to, the vibrator tossed aside and then dad and mom actually lifted me onto a steel topped cart, on my back. I wasn’t exactly fighting this by the way. I’m not adverse to stranger sex and to be honest, I was already entertaining thoughts about the waiter from the moment I saw him. I just wasn’t expecting this to be a family affair.

At least he wore a condom. It was a quick fuck, but it felt good. Of course it was a bit odd to have my arms being held by the mom. She had a firm grip, while one leg was held out by the dad. Then, after junior had orgasmed, DAD TOOK HIS PLACE! I got fucked a second time. Dad was better at it than his son, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. I came actually. Then they restuffed me with the vibrator, on full of course, taped me back up, and continued to hold me down as the mom crawled up on top of me, lifted her dress, and presented an incredibly hairy pussy to me, expecting me to eat her out.

I drew the line there. Sure, I don’t mind a quick fuck, but there was no way I was eating this old lady out. Yuck. I pushed her off me, threatened to call the police if they didn’t let go of my legs, and then found my clothing. They shouted a lot at me in Chinese, but I just went with my English. Evidently they understood enough not to touch me again. I slipped into my clothes and headed for the door.

Would you believe that bastard of a son actually chased me into the parking lot shouting “You forgot pay for lunch!”

I opened my purse, threw a twenty at him, and stalked off to my truck. My pussy was a little tender, so I ripped off the tape and turned off the vibe. I took it out, cleaned it off, tossed it aside and reinserted my Husky dildo, wedging it between the seat and my cervix, with the entire length of my pussy wrapped around it. Driving home was not easy, but at least the Husky and I spoke the same language.

So there you have it. Seven stores. I sort of did exactly what Mistress Ellen asked of me and even better I didn’t screw things up for Kari either. I’m sated now, so nothing more for me today… at least… well… you never know. Tonight I might be horny again. We’ll see what happens then!

Oh. And don’t worry about Kari’s show. I’ll tell you how it went after Saturday night!