Sunday, October 31, 2010

Daily Assignment 10-31-10

No Release For You

I'm going to have to discuss something that a lot of you are going to find slightly repugnant. Get over it. There are some serious biological differences between men and women and one of those differences is ovulation. Guys are always cocked and locked, as it were. Girls however... are like shotguns with only one shell. They have to be loaded and pumped, and only THEN are they ready to fire. And afterward, as the cycle repeats, the shell, whether fired or not, comes flipping out the top. Okay, not one of my better metaphors, but not totally inaccurate either. To put it bluntly, once a month I'm technically out of service. Sure, I know that some women are still sexually active during their monthly cycle. I personally find that distasteful and somewhat gross. Ok, enough said about that.

The next thing we need to cover is female orgasms. Unlike guys, who pretty much can cum in only one way (and I'm not talking technique here), girls have two ways to meet orgasm. The first is the most common: clitoral. Yep, most women can experience an orgasm when our clits are stimulated. That's why you see porn starlets frantically rubbing at their clits during sex, or how really good oral sex focuses on the clit. Clitoral orgasms are the most common among women and they're short, intense, and very powerful. Uh... the orgasms. Not the women who experience them. Sorry. Misplaced pronoun. Anyway, there is a SECOND kind of orgasm some women can have: Vaginal Orgasms. These are much deeper (no pun intended), longer, and much more satisfying, but that's just my personal opinion. Since I'm using metaphors here, imagine going to an amusement park. I used to go to Six Flags Astroworld before the bastards closed it, but clitoral orgasm was like riding the Dungeon Drop. The ride started with a slow climb up to about ten stories up, there was a pause, and then the whole thing fell to the earth, only to be caught about twenty feet from the ground and lowered gently back down. That's a clitoral orgasm. Great steady build up, a pause, and then sudden excitement, total heart stopping wonder, and then... then it's over. Vaginal orgasms are more like a roller coaster. You go up and up the hill of foreplay, and that first plunge is the orgasm... starting. Then you have these little waves and crests, maybe the double excitement of a loop de loop or something, and it goes on and on for a minute or more. Now THAT'S an orgasm. Not all women can have vaginal orgasms, which is a shame, and frankly it also takes some appropriate work on the part of the guy. Okay, so there's your lesson in female orgasm. There will be a test later administered by a friendly female. Do your best.

Okay, so Friday was Blowjob Friday. Again. Actually, its sort of been a while since I had blowjob friday, so it was sort of refreshing to get back to basics. I've noticed that over time my assignments have gotten about twenty times as complicated, and subsequently, twenty times LONGER. That means fewer assignments, cause it takes me so long to write the damn things up! I sometimes miss the simple days of "wear a set of ben wa balls in your pussy the entire day." I remember when that was a novelty. Now its common place. Maybe Michael should have someone put all these into a book and entitle it "Breanne's Slide into Sexual Slavery". Oh well, whatever, right?

Anyway, Master Mark sent me an email a little while ago asking why I was not doing assignments during my time of the month. Well duh. I thought the answer was obvious. I'm not "available". Besides, it provided me with a nice break from Master Barrett and Master Mark punishing me and setting assignments that they KNOW I'm not going to be able to accomplish properly, just so they can punish me. Seriously, everything used to be a "daily assignment". Now I have "punishments" as well! What the hell? Of course, it's still my fault. The rules are the rules.

Master Mark felt that even though I was out of service, I should still be servicing others. You know, there is a kind of perverted logic to that. Here's what he said:

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, 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.

Are you beginning to understand why I needed to talk about the different kinds of orgasm women experience? I'm sure you see the catch 22 here too as well. Master Mark is SETTING me up to fail. He KNOWS I have trouble handling the butterfly clitoral stimulator. He WANTS me to fail here. In fact, he expected it. He even sets up the punishment, knowing I'm probably going to fail. Michael would tell me right here not to give away the "surprise", but you all already know it. Of COURSE I FAILED! Duh. Besides, be honest. You wanted me to fail too, right?

Friday afternoon I decided to do something a little different. I've been having way too much sex at the mall. I practically have sex there more often than I shop. That's sort of depressing. So I needed a change of scenery. So instead I started driving toward Houston. I took 610 of course, and parked over by the Galleria. But instead of going into another mall, I decided to try the high rise instead. It was a Friday afternoon, and you never know who might be loitering around an office building, right?

I was dressed in my usual attire. Western style boots, tube socks, blue denim jeans, a teal and turquoise button up western shirt, belt, bra, panties, pad and my clitoral vibrator, strapped on over my white cotton panties and under my jeans. I looked very Texan. I even put my hair in a pony tail. No hat though. That would just be silly. Right after I parked I unzipped and unbuckled my jeans, reached into my pants, and activated the butterfly vibrator. Then I moaned. Even on low this thing set me off. Worse, I hadn't had an orgasm since Sunday afternoon of the previous week. That made it almost five days. The walk over to the office building was not bad, but before I had even entered the building, much less started looking for a "blowjob buddy" as Master Mark so quaintly put it, I reached the five minute mark. That happened just as I reached the glass doors, so I opened them, walked to the elevators, waited patiently for the first one, and then got in, pressing the button for the top floor. As soon as the doors closed and the elevator started going up, I snapped open my jeans and thumbed the butterfly to maximum.

You need to understand that I was already pretty charged. Granted, I wasn't flouncing around in a mini-skirt and halter, stuffed with my vibroballs on maximum, but having gone so long without an orgasm, and then to have that direct stimulation to my clit, well it was just too much. I practically swooned. I leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator, closed my eyes, and quietly endured. I made it about three minutes before I felt the spasms of my personal amusement park ride getting to the top, then a pause, then my orgasm came in a teeth clenching gasp that rocked through me like blast of cold air. I quivered, shaking, my thighs squeezing together as my hips jerked a little. Then my personal earthquake began to subside, leaving me with the aftershocks of release and the still quivering, still maddening, still vibrating butterfly stimulator on my clit. In other words, it wouldn't be long before I was right back up there.

It was a long ride up, which was good, and evidently no one else was going up. When I got to the top floor I got out, slightly damp in certain spots and certainly a little punch drunk on endorphins. I made one circuit of the top floor, noting the various offices, then went back to the elevator and rode back down. Back in the lobby I stepped out of the elevator, found an unobtrusive spot, and waited. This was incredibly hard to do. Why? Because the butterfly was slowly taking my amusement ride car back to the the fourteenth story. It was going slower than before, but the pressure was still building. Thankfully I only had to wait about ten minutes before a man dressed in a business suit came in through the lobby and went right up to the elevator, pressing the button. I made my move. I stepped up to the plate, got next to him, got a glance from him, and gave him one of my million watt please let me suck your cock smiles.

No response.

So I said, "hi." He glanced back over at me, obviously putting me in the category of "cowgirl".

"Good afternoon." Well at least I'm a PRETTY cowgirl.

"How are you today?" I asked. Conversation is always a good start.

He looked back at the elevator. His expression was resigned. "I'm fine. Thank you," he replied. He didn't ask me how I was. Too bad too. The answer would have been fun. The elevator dinged, or beeped, or rang, or whatever and the doors slid open. Two people got out and together we stepped in. I hoped he'd press a button for one of the higher floors, but he didn't. He was only going up to 23. I pressed the 40 button and the elevator started up the shaft.

"So... anything exciting happen to you today?" I asked. My voice may have been just a little intense. I was starting to feel the oncoming orgasmic wave again. It wasn't too close, at least another five minutes away, but it was coming. He glanced down at me. There was a long pause, a silence that felt awful, and then he looked back at the elevator door.

"No," he said.

"That's too bad," I replied. "Would you like something exciting to happen to you?" I asked. I moved a little closer, turning my face to look at him, licking my lips slightly.

He ignored me resolutely. "I have a heart condition." I blinked. Then the elevator dinged, the doors opened, and he stepped out, leaving me still stunned at my own failure and wondering if I was going to have another orgasm before I got down to the lobby.

The answer to that question was no. I had my second, faster achieved but more powerful orgasm while circumnavigating the fortieth floor. The problem with clitoral orgasms over vaginal ones is that you can't just take them over and over. See, if I were strapped down to a bed, while someone screwed me with a dildo, or even with real cock, or even one of those fucking machines, I could do non-stop cumming until I got dehydrated. Add some lubricant and the occasional sip from a water bottle, and I could go hours. Let me up to work my muscles a bit, use the restroom, and then strap me back down in a different position and I could probably go DAYS. Wouldn't that be an interesting assignment: Breanne, you will go to Kari and Robert's place and ask them to keep you tied down and fucked for a minimum of three days. You can only get up to use the restroom and you will continue getting fucked while eating.

Hmmm... that might be a new poll for the blog. Would you like to read about that? Probably be a boring story though. 8am I got fucked. 9am I got fucked. 10am Still fucking. Yada yada yada. Anyway, after my second clitoral orgasm my clit was starting to get sensitive and I was thinking of being a bit more aggressive with my next target. I mashed my thumb on the elevator down button and resumed my station in the lobby, looking for Mr. Right.

Almost fifteen minutes later and well into the "oh my god please make it stop", trying to keep from wincing stage of my sexual torment, I observed rather nice looking young man with a brief case step up to the elevator. He was alone, which was nice since the other two possible targets that I had seen had been surrounded by people. He had a head of thick hair, dark, with just a little bit of highlight at the temples, as if he was going to gray quickly. He was clean shaven and his suit was pretty expensive. The brief case however, was not. Quickly I moved over to the elevator, gave him my smile and started up my conversational approach. He responded well to the "hi" and "how are you?" and in moments we were chatting. We got into the elevator and I sighed when he mashed the 48 button on the elevator.

"Which floor are you going to?" he asked. I nodded at the panel. "Forty eight," I replied. His eyebrow went up and he smiled, but didn't ask any questions.

Before I could ask my "excitement question", he looked around the elevator suddenly, searching for something. I blushed, knowing what he was looking for.

"Is everything okay?" I asked. He gave me a shrug.

"I hear a buzzing noise."

I took a deep breath. "That's just my vibrator," I replied, nonchalantly.

That got his attention. He turned and looked at me. I smiled, a little embarrassed.

"Really?" He asked. I nodded.

"I have to leave it on until I give a stranger a blowjob," I explained. Another quirked eyebrow.

"Says who?" he asked. Now that's an astute question.

I shrugged. "It's a sex assignment. From online." I gave him a crafty and what I hope was a sexy look. "Want to help me out?"

"Just a blowjob?" he asked politely.

I grinned. "Well I need a spanking too, either on my ass or my breasts. Ten swats to be precise."

He gave me this look and then shook his head. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. We both got out. He turned and looked at me. "You're serious, aren't you?"

I nodded. Things were starting to get a little more tense for me, but maybe the way my hips were churning helped, because he finally smiled and then motioned me down the corridor.

"Come down to my office," he said.

I proceeded him down the hall, but he followed immediately and he asked me to stop when we passed a door marked with a name and "Investment Broker/ Financial Adviser." He opened the door with a key and allowed me to enter, showing me a rather spacious office, complete with large desk, a flat screen computer, and a credenza that held enough books, art, and knickknacks to please even Kari and her interior designer fetish. There were four chairs in the office. One behind the desk, two comfy looking ones in front of it, and a rather extraneous wooden one sitting in the corner next to a ficus tree. The view out the window was stunning and I could see the Houston skyline. Of course, all this was eclipsed by the fact that my clit was tender and just a little sore. On most girls, this would be a signal to stop, to say "thank you I've had enough". For me however, that little bit of pain was like Captain Kirk screaming into the intercom "WARP SPEED, SCOTTY!" It hurt, yes. But in a way that made me just purr and want more of it. Butterfly stimulators always do that to me. My chastity belt has a clit bump that vibrates just like my butterfly. I can't handle it. Constantly cumming.

But you like that, don't you?

"So how much is this going to cost me?" Walker asked. Oh. Right. That was his name. Walker. I forget his last name. Okay, not really, but I'm not advertising for him. Geeze. And his name wasn't actually Walker. I changed it, and the floor number to protect the guilty (me) and then innocent (him).

I shook my head. "Nothing. I'm not a prostitute. I'm a nympho humiliation pain slut doing a sex assignment. I'm not allowed to fuck anyone, but I have to give a blowjob before I can turn off the butterfly vibrator on my clit."

This resulted in me having to explain what a butterfly vibrator was. Finally I just unbuttoned my jeans, unbuckled my belt, and showed him. Ahhhhh...

Then we got down to business. He stood up, locked the door, and moved back to his chair behind the desk. I came around the heavy wooden structure, knelt down, ignoring the onslaught being perpetrated on my clitoris, and helped him get little Walker out. He wasn't circumcised, which doesn't bother me, but I don't see it that often either. Most guys I know have their foreskin removed. I guess it was thing. Anyway, I got right to work, sucking, licking, stroking. I put all my mind into the blowjob, rather than the forced stimulation of my own nerve packed sweet spot. It sort of worked. I was able to tune out the more intense reactions I was enduring from the butterfly, but it also brought me that much closer to orgasm. I kept up the blowjob though. I was actually getting close to making Walker cum when I couldn't hold back anymore. I gasped, humming my pleasure and pain into Walker's cock and he groaned. My left hand was stroking his balls while my right squeezed the base of his shaft and pumped even as my mouth did things to his tip and length that most men only get to dream about. If you've never had a professional blowjob, I seriously recommend it.

The orgasm I had evidently sparked Walker as well because moments later he came, shooting his load into my mouth. I swallowed as fast as I could and I managed to get most of it down, which is exactly perfect for a porn princess like me. A little dribble down the side of your mouth is good "art". I kept sucking him too, long after he had started to go limp, which is ALSO proper behavior. I only stopped when he started to firm up, just a little bit.

I stood up and gave him that look. "Are you ready to give me my spanking?" I asked.

He blinked a bit and then looked curious. "So you are supposed to get ten spanks for coming when you aren't allowed too?" he asked. I nodded.

"And if you refuse to spank my bottom, then I'm supposed to take off my shirt and let you spank my breasts," I said.

A contemplative look crossed his face and I could see the wheels turning. "But you just came. Had you not already cum once?" he asked me.

I sighed patiently. "I only have to get the spanks if I cum. Not how many times I cum."

Another arched eyebrow. "How many times have you cum since you weren't allowed to?"

"Three sir," I replied.

He took a deep breath. "Then it sounds to me like you deserve thirty swats."

I just froze. Uh oh.

"Ten for the first one, on your ass. Ten for the second, on your tits. And an additional ten where ever I want to put them for the third."

I didn't reply. I was just too stunned.

Then he grabbed my wrist, pulled me across his lap, and hit me hard enough for it to sting THROUGH my jeans. Talk about ouch. I squirmed a bit but was quickly restrained with one arm pulled across my back and wedged against the desk. The blows rained down on my ass and I just gasped and squealed and dealt with it. Finally, when the first ten were up, he let me loose. I wasn't crying, but I had come close, and my ass, even through the jeans, was emitting a heat that I'm quite familiar with. To be honest, had it been a bare bottom spanking, it would have blistered me.

STruggling to regain my composure, not to mention swallowing the very real sexual urgency that was once again building up between my legs, I began unbuttoning my shirt. I shimmied out of it and then loosened my bra. Most of the tiny wounds inflicted by my five day long tack punishment had disappeared, so Walker didn't say anything. He just pulled me over to his desk, stood me in front of it, pushed me backward so that my hands were on the desk top, supporting me. Then he stood, lifted his hand, and hit me.


Across my breasts.

Now I'm not huge up there. I'm a very comfortable 36B, still firm enough not to have to wear a bra if I don't want too, with rather large pinkish nipples. My breasts are also pretty round, like oranges, rather than squashed melon and they're pretty resilient, all natural, and perfect for things like clamps, clothespins, wartenberg wheels, icy hot, belts, whips, canes, and even the occassional open hand slap. And that last one is exactly what happened. Walker swung from the right and nailed my left breast with an open hand. The ache and the sting surged through me almost together, but then the sting carried across my chest to my right breast as his fingertips finished the swing. I gasped, hunching slightly as my tension built and then came another stroke. And another. He used both hands, focusing on one breast with each swing, but making sure that each blow caught both at the same time. After five I was gasping, wincing, my breasts hot and heavy. At eight I was whimpering, flinching as the next stroke fell. At ten I was crying. Yes, crying. I wasn't bawling, but there were real tears and my breasts really hurt.

WAlker seemed to enjoy my wet cheeks almost as much as he enjoyed the blowjob. I stayed in position, sniffling back sobs and he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a real wooden slide rule. Seriously, a slide rule? Who the hell uses those any more? He had a fancy black calculator on the desk too. Why have a slide rule? He lifted it, showed it to me, put it too my lips, and then gave me a choice.

"The last ten can be either on your tits, or on your ass, or split between them. But it's going to hurt."

Like I wasn't already hurt. I took a deep breath and told him to split the strokes. He nodded, told me to turn around, bend over the desk, and present my ass.

Thank god I was wearing jeans. Sure, my rear end was still sore. It still stung, but the denim protected me from the worst of the bite. My guess was that he was scared of breaking his expensive antique slide rule. He should have stuck to his bare hand. In any event, I winced, hissed, moaned, and dug my hips into the desk as the he hit me. Of course the butterfly stimulator was still roaring, still slowly abrading the skin right off my clit. I could feel the heat penetrating and then my pussy began going through a series of spasms as I was suddenly, metaphorically, jacked up into the air, lifted upward to the ultimate climax right before enduring another gut wrenching earth dropping orgasm. Walker finished with my rear, turned me around, and then laid me down on his desk, my tender rear end and legs hanging off right where his chair would normally sit. He grabbed my bare breast, plumped it, bunched it up in his left hand, and then snapped the slide rule at the tip with something akin to a drummer's beat.

I tried to count the strokes. My right nipple exploded in pain and I jerked slightly, my hands coming up to grab hold of Walker's arm. It was only through force of effort that I didn't cover my breast, roll away, or scream. By the eighth stroke my hips were thrusting upward in a lewd demand for sexual release. By ten I was desperate.

No. I did NOT beg for more strokes. My hips ground upward and he pressed his thigh up between my legs. I moaned and then he bunched up the flesh of my left breasts, plumped it, and then delivered ten more blistering strokes. Actually, I think eleven, because when my hand covered my breast he hit my knuckles really hard and I yanked my hand away. But the pain did more than just make me cry out. It took me over the edge. I let out a startled cry as the fourth clitoral orgasm smashed through me and fed me to the lions.

WAlker noticed, but I was too dazed to really respond. I had practically collapsed on his desk, sex soaked, trembling, barely cognizant of what Walker was doing. He tossed the slide rule down and was unbuckling my pants. He actually had them tugged downward, exposing the butterfly stimulator before I struggled upward, repeating the words "stop" and "wait" a few times. It didn't phase him and he reached up and turned the stimulator off.

Sweet glory. I sagged as the intense stimulation stopped, ceased, halted, froze, and released me. My tenderized over sensitive clit shuddered in sudden silence and even more tension poured out of my body. As the little sex toy went quiet, I sighed in relief.

"You came again, didn't you?" Walker asked. Slowly I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him.

I nodded. "Yeah."

With a sigh he turned around to the credenza, opened up his appointment calendar. "Thursday. Two pm. That work for you?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He gave me a very even stare. "You came again. That's another ten strokes, but I can't give them to you now. Your appointment will be on Thursday at two. Get here a bit early. Wear something appropriate. And make sure this is on." His fingers patted the clitoral stimulator still strapped to my crotch over my panties.

All I could do was nod. Slowly I straightened, pulled my jeans back up over my hips and then was presented with a hard cock for the second time that day. I sucked him off of course, my shirt and bra still off, reddish hand prints clear on my breasts, right next to the rectangular imprints of his slide rule. He came, this time tugging out of my mouth just as he started, spraying little white droplets across my face, breasts, and neck. I licked them all up with my fingers. Then I sucked him dry again.

Going home was easy. I was sexually sated, comfortable, and even a little excited about the prospect of my last ten spanks. I knew I wouldn't be showing up in jeans. Thursday meant a skirt. A short one.

Once I was home I cleaned up. Got out my vibrating anal plug and finished up the assignment. How’s that for an anti-climax?

So what happens next? Oh. That’s easy.

Next Assignment:

Get Out And Vote! – Master Stone

Breanne – you will dress bimboish – skirt, high heels, halter top, no bra. You will wear your set of bell clamps on your nipples, under your halter top. You will stuff your newest vibrating anal plug in your ass and turn it on low. You will also put in your Core Driller dildo and wear a pair of panties over it. Lastly, you will attach your alligator clamp to your clit. Once you arrive at your polling place, you will turn the anal vibrator to its highest setting. Get out of your truck and head over to the nearest Democrat and ask for voting advice. Endure 15 minutes worth. Then go vote. You may not cum during this assignment.

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