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Daily Assignment 11/30/10 Sensitive

Sensitive

11/30/10

I settled down in the soft sheets, wiggling my toes under the covers. The smooth cotton felt good against my bare skin. I was naked, completely, terribly, awesomely naked. I twisted to the side table and picked up the small bottle of oil, temporarily ignoring the other items on the flat surface next to the bed. I popped the cap open and poured a quick dribble onto my chest, followed by my fingers which began rubbing it into my breasts. My nipples hardened almost instantly and I closed my eyes as the little sparks of pleasure shot up from my nipples and along my spine. Some went to my brain, I'm sure, but a few went downward as well, causing my pussy to have a little spasm. My left hand slid down over my stomach, finding the bump of my mons and then slipping into the folds, paying special attention to my clit. I rubbed for a little bit, moaning softly as my clit swelled and my fingers glided over it back and forth.

I could feel myself ripening, getting ready, my pussy getting moist, wanting cock. I stuck one finger down into my hole and then traced back up my stomach to my mouth. MMmmm Shuddering in desire and want, I leaned back over to the table and grabbed my ben wa balls. Two pink latex covered golf ball sized spheres filled my hand. The small string connecting them kept the two spheres together as I rattled them around in my hand. I touched them to my skin, dragging them down my oil slicked body toward my sex. I moaned as they touched my clit, sliding over them. Each sphere was filled with a weight that moved as I rolled them, sliding down the petals toward my well. I groaned, rubbing them against my folds, pressing them hard against my nub. Lightning flashed through me and I moved them away from the sensitive nerve bundle and pushed them into myself. My pussy contacted around them as they sank in deep.

I took my hand away as my loins reacted to the internal pressure. My hips rolled, involuntarily thrusting as I adjusted to being filled. I tried to concentrate, to calm down, and only managed to turn myself on even more. Perhaps the lazy circles my fingers were drawing across my breasts, touching my nipples, even as my hips were thrusting, were distracting me.

I kept rubbing. Close to desperation I let go of my nipple and reached back over to the table. My fingers found the clamps with ease. Two metal toothed alligator clamps, attached together with a thin steel chain came with my hand and I examined the little tooth filled mouths with sexual interest. There were no pads, no rubber, no plastic to protect me from the spring driven jaws. I had worn them before, often even, knowing that the results would be tiny red toothmarks where they bit. I'd even drawn blood before. With trembling fingers I pinched open one of the clamps and cupped my left breast. My nipple stood up, hard and ready and I could feel my quickening heart beat. I positioned the clamp so that it would hang downward from my breast, the chain toward my belly. Then I slowly released the pressure on the clamp, letting the cruel sharp teeth close on my nipple.

Pain. It shot up through my tit as if someone had just shoved a needle through my nipple. And it didn't stop. It went on and on. I grit my teeth, my right hand finding my clit and pressing hard against it with the palm of my hand. A wash of pleasure came with the pain and I felt it change slightly, mixing into something less feral, less hurtful, but even more intense. Still trembling, still groaning, I picked up the other clamp and positioned it over my right nipple, letting it bite down, chewing on my nub with agonizing pressure. The chain felt cold on my stomach.

It hurt. Oh god yes it hurt. It was almost too much. Tears sprang to my eyes as the pain radiated up from my breasts. But my hips moved again and soon all I felt was a dull throb filled with heat and need. My fingers rubbed my clit again, touching, stroking, pinching, until that need was like a hungry fire looking for fuel. I wanted to be stuffed so desperately. I rolled, my nipples still throbbing in agony as I reached for the bedside table. I found the third clamp, larger, easier to manipulate, but just as cruel as the two I had just attached to myself. This one too was an alligator clamp, but one that applied slightly less pressure despite its larger size. It was easily as long as my forefinger and I touched it, unopened, to the spot between my breasts and ran it downward.

My clit was swollen, but it still reacted to the touch of the clamp. The metal was cold and sent a shiver through me starting between my legs. Shaking now more from fear than from desire, I pinched the clamp open and set it above my clitoral hood, knowing that when it closed, it would lock my tender and exposed clit in a painful exposed bite, preventing the sensitive nub from disappearing back into its protective covering. I did it quickly, letting it clamp me and it was everything I could do to keep from screaming as the pain shot up through my body. It was like being burned, or electrocuted. It was all consuming, laced with sexual frustration and need.

But even as I was having the sexual muscle spasms that forced my clit clamped pussy thrusting upward, virtually fucking the imaginary man above me, I felt the pain turn to heat and then settle. I could still feel the teeth. I could still experience the pain, but now the sexual aspect had become the predominant sensation and what I really needed was a good solid fucking.

Once more my hand went to the table, grabbing the large plastic vibrator from off the flat plane. I twisted the base immediately, setting it to maximum, the mechanical hum and rattle as the little weighted motor inside began spinning wildly, slightly off center. I moved it downward, longing to ram it in deeply, to push the ben wa balls aside and thrust it in hard. But I didn't. I wasn't allowed to. Instead I took the violently vibrating tip and carefully set it against my exposed clitoris and the clamp.

There is no metaphor that describes what it felt like. It was terribly intense, totally depraved, insanely impractical, and felt.... awesome. It felt awesome.

I cried out, my body beginning to shake from both the torment and torture. My nerves fired in rapid succession, telling my brain that it was too much, too fast, too powerful. My toes curled, tightening as I suddenly pushed, and pushed hard, on the vibrator, forcing the alligator clamp to move against my clitoral hood and sending the most vehement vibrations into my super sensitized nub.

And then I came. I don't know if it hurt or felt good. It was like fucking a god. It was like fucking dynamite at the moment of combustion. It was like fucking the business end of a jackhammer combined with a weeks worth of sexual buildup. It was maniacal. It was mental. It was crazy.

After I exploded I lifted the vibrator away from my clit. It hurt. I twisted it to off and just laid there, trying to settle, trying to let some of the screaming nerves between my legs regain some sense of normality.

I didn't take off the clamps, despite the metal teeth digging deeper. I knew what had to happen next. As ordered, I lifted the vibrator, turned it on to maximum, and pressed it against the alligator clamp on my clit. The vibrations streamed down, violently shaking the metal as the little dull jaws sank deeper into my flesh. I whimpered, then groaned and held it there until I started to feel the same sort of sensations as before; a frantic buildup of sexual need, of desperation, of agony. It hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt, like poking at a bruise, or constantly tonguing a canker sore. Add the sexual component and in less than ten minutes I was ready again. It took longer this time, but I came, exploding in such tension that I literally lifted up from the bed, curling almost into a fetal position, my face buried in the pillow as I screamed out my orgasm. My legs clenched together, thighs trapping the vibrator against the clamp and my clit. I felt it shaking and I grabbed hold of the pillow and held it tightly, trying to deal with the vibrations.

There is a kitchen utensil Kari used to have. I have no idea what it was called, or what it was supposed to be for. It was just a thin one millimeter thick rubber rod connected to a battery driven motor in a handle. If you know what it's called, let me know. The rod was gray and whipped around on the handle, but wasn't much of a buzzing vibrator type toy. Occasionally Kari would use it on me, pressing it to my clit or my nipples, but it wasn't a vibrator, and never had the power to really get me off. But one day I watched her pull it out while we had one of her dates tied to her bed. He had already endured three hours worth of milking and we must have had made him cum maybe six or seven times at that point.

This ISN'T what Kari had, but it's as close as I could find on the internet.
The one Kari owned had a white handle, with a rubber attachment sticking out of it.

She lubed the rod on that little device and then slowly worked it INTO his cock. Imagine that. I don't have to. He yelled. A lot. So much that Kari had me straddle his face and push my pussy over his mouth to keep him quiet. Once Kari had three inches worth of rubber rod in his cock, she turned the tool on and began jacking him off. You should have seen the thrashing. My God... it was... awful.

And that's how I felt after that second orgasm. Curled into a ball, I slowly rolled onto my stomach. The clamps on my nipples dug in painfully, tugging in odd ways and the still roaring vibrator shifted position slightly between my legs, so that its full length stretched along my pussy. The base was vibrating the clamp, the middle was pressed tightly on my still exposed clit, and the rest was lodged firmly between my swollen petals, sending never ending tremors through my sex like a New York City Jackhammer crew.

I pushed my pillow underneath me, cushioning my hips before I started thrusting my abused clit against the soft down sheets. I could feel the vibrator sliding through my slit with each thrust, never granting me what I wanted: penetration. My clit seemed to swell, to protest the violent shuddering of the vibrator, but I ignored it, totally intent on working myself up toward the third fever pitched explosion. It took longer this time. A lot longer. Almost a full twenty minutes and my clitoris vacillated between burning and ecstasy as if some demented madman was alternating holding a blow torch to my clit and sucking on it steadily. It was maddening. Finally I came, teeth clenched, my body rigid as I rolled again, desperate to get the vibrator away from my sex in any way possible. It got tossed aside, still buzzing and slightly wet on the bed next to me as my chest heaved, the chain between my alligator clamped nipples slipping on my ribs. Everything hurt; my breasts, my clit, my sex. Everything. I wiped the tears away. Still caught in the jaws of the tight clamps, I slowly let myself down, legs spread, cool air from my ceiling fan caressing my sore and protruding clit. I reached out and turned off the vibrator. Blessed silence...

I don't know if it was ten or fifteen minutes later when I finally sat up, scooting back, legs still spread, until I was propped up on my bolster. I looked down at myself. My nipples were red and very tender, each still caught in the tight lock of the alligator nipple clamps. The chain had left imprints on my skin, leaving thin red marks along the cream colored flesh. Farther down, my clit was bright red, bulging out from the bite of the clamp. Pain still shot up from it, but it was more of a dull throb at this point. I dreaded what it would feel like when I took the clamp off. I reached down to touch, but then chickened out. I didn't want to touch myself. I was afraid of how it would feel. I didn't want another orgasm.

But that's what the assignment had required. Four orgasms. One right after the other, stuffed with ben wa balls, and wearing alligator clamps. No penetration either, just my clit and the vibrator. It was agony. It was ecstasy. It was torture. With shaking fingers I picked up the vibrator, and turned it on again, all the way up. I lifted it, spreading my knees as far apart as possible. With exposed thighs, I ran the vibrator down from my splayed knee toward my reddened pussy.

I started off by touching the vibe to the clamp, and even that was bad. If ever there was a time I needed someone there with me to tie me spread-eagled to the bed, forcing my legs apart, to hold the vibe against my clit, the clamp, to torture me, to hurt me, to make me cum over and over, it was right then. My will power was insufficient and I could barely stand the pressure of the vibrator against the alligator clamp between my legs. I kept pulling away as pain rushed through me. Every time I tried, I failed. It was just too much.

"Need some help?" Kari asked from the doorway. She was wearing a black negligee that left so much of her perfect body exposed. I nodded, tears in my eyes.

"I want too. I just... can't." I said, almost sobbing. Kari smiled and came over to the bed. She took the vibrator away from me and then kissed me softly.

"Raise your hands, Breanne," she whispered. I followed her orders. The cuffs were already attached to the headboard above me. I felt the cold steel encircle my wrists, binding me tightly. No matter what I did I would not be able to free myself. Then she moved to my ankles. Thick leather bondage cuffs were attached, pulling me tight, but not to the corners of the bed, put out sideways, spreading me obscenely wide, as if I were some sort of perverted gymnast or dancer, caught permanently in the splits while my pussy lay clamped and exposed for all to see. I felt the tension in my thighs and the rippling effect of the alligator clamp on my pussy. Then Kari climbed up onto the bed and pressed the still buzzing vibrator against my right nipple. For maybe five minutes she tormented my bosom, vibrating the still clamped nipples until they were red and sensitive. She bent down and licked one, over the clamp and I almost came just from that. Then she held the vibrator like a pen and touched the tip of the shuddering toy directly to my clit.

I pulled and strained on my cuffs. My legs tugged painfully as I tried to move away. I was too taut though and couldn't even shift my position. I began begging her to stop, to take the vibrator away from me, to touch me anywhere else, to shove the vibrator into my pussy... anything.

But she didn't. She held it there, right on my clit, never stopping, never moving it, just rubbing it back and forth across one little spot. I shook. I screamed. I whimpered. I begged. I yelled. I demanded her to stop. But I had given up my safe words with Kari years ago. There was nothing I could do. I started to go crazy. I said things, things I don't even remember. My arms were sore from pulling on the cuffs and red lines had appeared on my wrists. My brain shut down to everything but the roaring inferno between my legs.

I came, but I'm not sure I should call it an orgasm. I mean, sure, I suppose it was. But I barely remember it. I knew when it was over because Kari was letting me up and I looked down to see her holding the clamp that had been on my clit. Evidently she had taken it off while I was in the throes of my orgasm. She tossed it aside and then pulled the chain between my breasts. She didn't pull the clamps off, thank God, but she did squeeze each of them open. I cried out as blood rushed back into my crushed nipples. Tiny red marks were clearly visible on my breasts. Kari held me as I cried, kissing my hair and face over and over.

It took me about thirty minutes to recover, all of which I spent still bound to Kari's bed. When I finally felt somewhat normal I told Kari I was ready to be let up. She grinned and pulled out a rubber ball gag from the bedside table drawer. My eyes widened as she set it down on the bed next to me and then picked up the large alligator clamp and the vibrator, holding them up above me.

"It's going to cost you, Breanne. But don't worry. You can scream all you want."

I began to protest but she shoved the ball into my mouth and quickly buckled it in. It muffled my screams as the clamp went back on, the burning pain blossoming in my clit. Kari gave the clamp a little flick and then turned on the vibrator, to maximum, lowering it down until it touched me.

And it was agony and it was ecstasy.

Now on Facebook. Kinda

VIP LOUNGE OPENING SOON!

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Puzzle It Out

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Daily Assignment 11/28/10 Picture Frame

Friday afternoon I grabbed a manila folder off my desk and quickly shoved it into my bag. Everything was packed. I was already in my duster, jeans, boots, tee shirt, and bra, not to mention the vibroballs shoved up inside me and buzzing away on low. It had been a long day already and I was really really desperate. I get that way sometimes.

I did the usual thing too. Drove out to the road behind our farm, pulled over, and then froze my ass off in fifty degree weather (thank God it wasn’t raining) as I stripped naked and then pulled my new outfit out of the bag. First I put on the white short sleeve blouse, not bothering to button it up. Then I slipped on my red plaid skirt. The remote to my vibroballs went into the waist band and I attached a small metal clamp, complete with a bell, to my clit. Then I slipped my bare feet into my stripper shoes: four inch clear plastic platforms with an eight inch heel. I wrapped my freezing body back in my duster and tied my shirt across my breasts, rather than buttoning it. I looked like a slut.

But then… I am one, aren’t I? A nympho humiliation pain slut to be exact.

I hate going out on black Friday. It’s busy. It’s insane. People do stupid shit in order to get “the best deals” and while I wasn’t headed to a toystore, I was still thinking “this is stupid.” So with my pussy constantly contracting around the vibroballs I headed into town and aimed myself at our local arts supply and craft store. I was looking for something in particular. A frame, black, sort of modern looking. But that wasn’t all I was looking for.

I pulled up in front of the store. The place was of course packed. People were everywhere. I parked as close to the door as I could, but I was still going to have a pretty long walk inside. I turned the vibroballs up to maximum. I shucked out of the duster, grabbed my manila folder and purse, and got out of the truck. The wind whipped my skirt around, not to mention threatened to rip my shirt off. You also can’t run in stripper shoes. So by the time I got inside my teeth were close to chattering and I was shivering. I was also being stared at. The average age of the typical shopper was around forty five and most of them were rather plump women, all of whom gave a good look. And it wasn’t eyefucks either. It was sort of like a combination of “if I had a machine gun, and actually knew how to use it, I’d hose you down you whore” and “damn, I wish I could wear that too.”

I knew where the frames were kept, but I went looking for the second thing on my list. Browsing when your pussy is being vibrated rather intensely is tough, and I’m sure enough people noticed the white wire that went from the remote, certainly visible in my waistband, that disappeared under my skirt. Plus, if anyone had gotten close enough, they’d have heard it. Finally, in the baking supplies section I found what I was looking for.

“Excuse me,” I said politely, with one of my million watt please fuck me silly with a rolling pin smiles. “I was wondering if you could help me choose a frame for a picture.”

The brown haired boy (I’d call him a man, but I could tell he barely shaved) straightened, took one look at me, and coughed up his skull. LOL. It was funny. Okay, he didn’t really cough up his skull, but he swallowed wrong and sputtered a bit. I looked like a school tart ready for fucking and he used his eyes to examine every partially concealed curve. I gave him another million watt please spank me BEFORE you fuck me smiles and he melted like butter on a hot plate. It was cute.

“Uh, frames are at the back left of the store,” he sorta said, still having trouble formulating words. I shook my head.

“I know where the frames are. I need help picking one out. Can you help me?” I batted my eyelashes. I already knew I had this one done.

He nodded and smiled and then escorted me to the frame aisle. Thank God it was pretty empty and evidently the walk, due to my not being directly in his field of vision, helped get him a little more coherent. Once we arrived in the frame aisle he asked me what size the picture was. I opened my manila folder and handed him the photograph.

I had printed it the night before on my dad’s printer, so it wasn’t a perfect photo, but it was still pretty good. Some of you might have seen it, but I guess this means I have to post it again.



Yep. That’s me. After LAST Monday’s assignment. Yes, those are signatures, of all the guys that fucked me there. Hope you’re happy Master Barrett.

His eyes exploded in front of me and he said “holy shit!” as he looked at the photo. “This is… uh…” Words failed him. I grinned.

“Cool huh?” I shook my head. “The only problem is that Richard signed in a regular marker, so it washed off. See?” I turned around and lifted my skirt. I looked back over my shoulder to see the poor kid blushing scarlet, but definitely looking at my ass. Once of the names HAD washed off. I had taken the liberty of doing a rather horrible job writing “+1” on my ass in the space.

He didn’t say anything and I lowered my skirt. “I need something black and very modern looking. What do you recommend?”

With the photo in hand he went looking and a moment later he selected out a sleek black metal frame with glass and a mat that looked very nice with the photo. He pulled it off the shelf and handed it to me, but I put it back and took the photo from him.

“Thanks. I needed that help. Now I want to reward you. Where can we go that’s private?”

Evidently the bathrooms are one room affairs requiring a key. He left me there waiting while he went to the front of the store. I got more looks, but everyone pretty much ignored my presence. Then he returned and we disappeared into the men’s bathroom.

It was tiny with not much room, so I ended up on my knees with the toilet between my ankles while I got out his dick and sucked him. He was already very very hard, and I had to be careful. Right before he was about to blow I stopped, stood up, reached under my skirt and yanked out the vibroballs. They clattered and rattled until I managed to turn them off, dropping them into the sink. Then I turned around, bent over, put my arms on the sink to brace myself, and told him to fuck me.

God it felt good. He penetrated deeply and started ramming himself in and out. The bell clamp on my clit rang continuously. But to my astonishment, he had really good willpower. He didn’t cum. I was surprised, but then I realized that it was the position. He wasn’t getting the angle he needed, so I stood up and moved to the toilet. (I know… yuck, right?) I sat on it, leaned back, spread my legs and he moved in between them, kneeling. It took us a moment to get it right, but then we were moving together. Yummy.

He still didn’t cum and I was getting very tired and uncomfortable. I wasn’t close either. Sure, it felt good, but he was having trouble. Finally, I got up again, pushing him away and I laid down on the tile floor. It was cold. I spread my legs and he tugged the bell clamp off my clit. Then he got on top of me and pushed my legs underneath his so he was straddling me. He groaned, bucked, and thrust. I pulled my shirt open and he went to town on my nipples. I moaned at him to bite me and his mouth found my nipples, nipping them. I couldn’t hold back and I came. I cried out quite nicely.

Then he came. It was great. We moved together for a few more seconds and then he collapsed on top of me. Finally he got up and I stood. I quickly washed the vibroballs in the sink while he got his clothes in order. Then I put them back in. I turned them up to maximum and shuddered through a secondary minor orgasm as I let him attach the bell clamp back on my clit. Then I grabbed my purse and folder, and let him walk me back to the frame aisle.

I bought that frame. The picture is for Kari.

And what a pretty picture it makes!

Daily Assignment 11/26/10 Thanksgiving

This is going to be short. No reason to bore you with every little detail, especially when they were basically the same. So how was your Thanksgiving? Mine was a mixture of frustration, satisfaction, happiness, and pain. Why you ask? Because I was stuffed, from the moment I woke up, with my chastity belt on. That meant a four inch wide anal plug in my ass, a five inch long rubber vibrating dildo in my pussy, and large plastic vibrator filled bump pressing up against my clit. But to make matters worse, I was directed to turn on the vibrators, all three of them, for two minutes, once an hour. At full power. Oh yeah, and if I wanted to cum, then I had to put rubber bands around my feet and snap them against my arch. I can barely stand having the vibrators on at full power, but two minutes is a pretty short time, so it was around eight or so when I finally gave in. I knew before I even started that I was probably going to cum, so I took off my socks, put the rubber bands on, and snapped them. Oh god it hurt. Especially by the end. Ten snaps are just terrible. The first five aren’t too bad, but by the time I get to nine I’m clenching my teeth and grimacing in agony. I wish someone would tie me down and do it too me, rather than me doing it to myself. I came of course. It was awesome. The pain in my feet helped it along. I’m such a pervert. Twice more during the day, after several interspaced hours of drinking, eating, buzzing, cheering on the Saints, I had to put the rubber bands back on. The orgasms were sweet. My feet hurt.

Happy Thanksgiving!

As those of us in the States prepare our Thanksgiving feasts and sit down to watch football (the real kind) we want to wish each other and our brethren across the sea happy Thanksgiving. It is a holiday that is uniquely American, yet whose message and intent transcends boundaries. It is about recognizing the bounty given to us. It's about the beauty of creation. It is about bringing us closer together, with friends and family, in peace, in harmony, to celebrate our blessings. After all, Thanksgiving is a word of action.

May God be with us all.

Yours Faithfully,

Michael Alexander

Daily Assignment 11/24/10 A Ford Pickup - A Girl's Best Friend

A Ford Pickup – Girl’s Best Friend

11/24/10

Release comes in a lot of different ways. For me, Sunday evening had been a bit tough and my rear end was still sore. On the flip side, I had experienced a really awesome vanilla orgasm, which let me tell you, doesn’t happen very often. The vanilla thing. Not the awesome orgasm one. I have awesome orgasms all the time. Just they rarely occur when I’m having plain old vanilla sex. Call me deviant or kinky if you want, but it’s normal for a nympho humiliation pain slut.

Monday started pretty normally. I had put my chastity belt back in after the picture and dinner with Kari the previous evening, this despite the fact that I had been given a powerful orgasm. I figured that technically I still needed to keep it in until I finished the second of the three assignments. That was what I agreed too. Kari thought I was right and helped me get my chastity belt back on, complete with Stinging O lubrication. She DID let me take off the nipple clamps before going home, so at least those weren’t distracting me on the drive Sunday night.

But like I said, Monday started normally. I was in my chastity belt. I did my chores. I wrote up Sunday’s assignment. I chatted with Master Barrett, which oddly enough didn’t result in any new punishments (I wisely DIDN’T tell him about my unauthorized orgasm, instead taking the coward’s approach and letting him READ it.)

It was pretty late Monday evening, after dinner, and well into the darkness when I pulled up in front of Becca’s place. Becca is one of my close friends, and yes, she’s a lover too. She’s a lesbian, totally not into BDSM and is not a NHPS. Too bad too. She’s really cute and makes these adorable whimpering sounds when….

Uh… never mind.

Anyway, Becca sometimes backs me up on these assignments. I don’t always mention my backup, mostly because they don’t play a part in a story, but if you’ve ever said to yourself “what the fuck is she doing? That’s nuts!” chances are I had backup. Kari backs me up occasionally (though it costs something usually, and not in money), Robert’s backed me up. Julie has backed me up. Mistress Sara has accompanied me on assignments, and last but not least, Becca. She has trouble handling assignments that are more… intense… though.

So I picked up Becca. As usual, she was wearing a dress, flower print, not to short, not to long. I knew that underneath would be her normal white granny panties and sterile bra. Becca NEVER goes commando. She’s very conservative. Becca had laughed when I told her what I had to do over the phone, and now she came out with a grin on her face and a light in her eye. She never did anything herself, but she’s confessed that watching me do sexy things turns her on.

So we headed out in my truck. Originally I had been dressed in boots, socks, jeans, chastity belt, tee shirt, and bra. Now, despite the warm weather, I was in my duster and a set of high heels. I wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. The temp had fallen when the sun went down and it hovered right above seventy. I turned back toward town and Becca and I discussed the best place to do what I was about to do. After several minutes, we settled on a strip mall parking lot. We needed something without security, or cameras, or people moving in and out rapidly. To be honest we considered quite a few options. Wally World, the mall, the cinema, the grocery store. We even drove by a few. But when we finally pulled into one of the strip malls near the freeway, we realized it was perfect. I parked the truck and Becca and I walked through the sparse lighting to find a dirty car or truck.

I took us all of thirty seconds. If that. We found a rather dirty mini-van just three spots down from our truck. With a quick glance around assuring me of our solitude, I opened my duster and pressed my breasts to the van, rubbing them around slightly. When I pulled away I saw two rather indistinct circular imprints on the window, smeared dirt, with no discernable nipple. And my tits were really dirty. Becca laughed at my expression.

I found another vehicle, a sedan this time, down another row. I pushed my bare breasts against the back right hand side window. Again, I got to blurry vaguely circular blobs that no one would recognize as breasts. I voiced my frustration and Becca told me to get back in the truck.

To my surprise, she directed me to Wally World. I felt a bit self conscious walking in wearing only my duster, since I looked exactly like a flasher. But Becca knew exactly what she was looking for. We proceeded to the health and beauty supplies and went to hair care. Next thing I knew she was holding a small generic squirt bottle, the kind with the sprayer that looks like it came from a bottle of glass cleaner. I realized Becca’s evil plan in a heart beat and laughed. I took her elbow and we ALSO picked up a few rolls of paper towels.

After our purchase Becca filled up the bottle in the women’s restroom and we were off, headed right back down the road to that strip mall.

We parked and went looking for new cars and found another van almost immediately. This time Becca was standing by as I opened my duster. She directed the sprayer at me, squeezed the handle, and a fine mist of rather cold water coated my boobs. I squealed a bit, but then turned and mashed my chest onto the back window of the van. A few quick smears later and I found myself looking at a rather serviceable, but still warped imprint of my breasts. I lifted a finger, then under them, I wrote “breanneNHPS”. There you go Michael – MARKETING!

On our next vehicle, a truck this time, we tried spraying the window of the truck first. This worked much much better. The breast imprint LOOKED like breasts, complete with little spots where the nipples obviously had pressed against the glass. It was awesome. So with my dirty mud smeared breasts still exposed, I wrote my twitter name underneath the imprint.

And so on.

By the time we got to twenty, I had already wiped my chest a few times, letting Becca spray me directly in order to get some of the muck off. It didn’t help that much. I was still going to need a shower. Dust had turned to mud and slid in smears down much of my front.

But we did a full twenty cars. Actually, twenty two, since the first two didn’t count. Then, once we were finished, Becca and I went back to my truck. She kept a look out as I opened my duster all the way, moved to the tailgate and then straddled the hitch.



My truck has a ball hitch attachment. It’s not especially large, but it’s clean, black enameled (or whatever), and I’ve never ever fucked it. Until now. I squatted down, facing the tailgate of course, and ended up having to turn around so that my back was to the truck. Thus, with my duster open, my dirty tits on display, not to mention my shaved pussy, I lowered myself down and began rubbing my already quite wet and ready slit over the two inch wide ball.

It went in rather easily. It was cold and hard. I moved up and down, impaling myself. It felt… different. Not unpleasant, but not exactly comfortable either. The hitch was a weird shape for my pussy to adjust too. After about four minutes, my legs were getting tired. That worked out, because that’s when we were interrupted by a car driving through the parking lot. I stayed impaled, but I got my duster closed as they drove by. Yeah… fun.

Anyway, I finally came. It wasn’t much of an explosion, and I had to help things along by rubbing my clit. But I was successful. Afterward we drove back to Becca’s place and got in the shower together. She cleaned my dirt smeared body, planting little hot kisses all over. Then we dried off, laid down in bed and she made these really cute adorable whimpering noises when I…

Oh. Uh…

Never mind.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving…

Bre

I was wondering why you ran off as soon as you posted your write up.

Kari isn't the only one you are in trouble with. I was very specific about when you were allowed to cum and it wasn't while being fucked on a bed was it? You were to have you first orgasm only after being fucked in the ass five times, doing your thing in a car park and then and only were you to make yourself cum by fucking a trailer hitch. Though it does seem that you had a great orgasm so perhaps I will have to keep you in frustration and denial more often? I've always thought the slower the build up to an orgasm the more powerful it is. So I wonder how hard you would cum if I kept you on edge for a week or two?

Due to you fucking up not to mention not coming out and telling me that you fucked up directly, your Thanksgiving task has been amended. Yyou now only get to turn on the vibes for TWO minutes every hour which should result in a lot more frustration and a lot less fun for you. This is just an interim measure though rest assured I will be thinking of a suitable punishment for your transgression.

- Master Barrett

Daily Assignment 11/23/10 A Steep Price

A Steep Price

11/22/10

I have purchased freedom – to an extent, and it was a pain in the ass.

As many of you might be aware, I’ve been stuck in my chastity belt since Friday morning. Sure, I’ve been allowed to take it off to use the bathroom, but since I was also required to relubricate both phalluses with Stinging O, I’ve been a little more circumspect about how often I take OFF my chastity belt. Of course that wasn’t the only complication. Every two hours I had to endure two minutes of intense vibration. Thank God I was allowed to choose WHICH vibrator was on. Had it been either the vaginal or clitoral one, I’d be getting punished right now because there is no way I would have been able to stand it.

Oh yeah. And I hadn’t cum since Thursday’s assignment, when I smacked my clit hard with a ruler.

So I was pretty desperate.

Master Barrett had plans to keep me in the chastity belt all the way through the Thanksgiving weekend, but offered me the ability to “purchase” my way out of it. All I had to do was come up with a few options; things I’d be willing to do in order to be allowed not just to take off the chastity belt, but cum.

The end price was steep and technically I haven’t paid for it all.

What was the price you ask? I agreed to the following:

1. I will strip naked and don only my duster and my vibroballs. I will take a black marker and find five different and separate guys. I will ask them to fuck me up the ass and then sign my rump.

2. I will go to a full parking lot and proceed to make breast imprints on twenty different dirty cars. After I’m done, I will find a ball trailer hitch and fuck it until I cum.

3. On Thanksgiving morning, immediately after I wake up, I will put the chastity belt back on. Once every hour of the entire day, I am to find someplace private and turn all three vibrators to their highest setting for ten minutes. It doesn’t matter if I cum or not. The vibrators stay on for the full ten minutes and not a second shorter or longer, no matter how sensitive or desperate I am.

I’ve done one of them already. Second tomorrow. The third one won’t happen until Turkey Day, but I’m not terribly worried. I’ve already masturbated a few times since yesterday evening and I feel much better and not to stressed about it.

But what happened yesterday? Well it all started with a phone call to Kari, who agreed to come along, cost to me yet to be decided. In the middle of the afternoon I headed over to her place. I was wearing a denim skirt, my chastity belt, and a tee shirt, not to mention flip flops. I brought my duster, but it was warm enough I didn’t need it. As usual, I padded up to her apartment door, dumped my duster on the balcony rail behind me, and stripped.

It didn’t take long.

When I was naked except for my flip flops and the chastity belt I knocked and was pleased to find Robert, Kari’s live in sex slave standing in front of me wearing even less. Only his cock was covered and by covered I mean it was stuck in a tube like sheath of black leather that seemed to be keeping him from getting an erection. Agonizing I’m sure. He smiled at me and stepped aside to let me come in. I gathered my belongings and headed into the apartment.

“Kari will be home in a few minutes, Breanne” he said. “Get comfortable.” He motioned toward the living room.

At that particular moment, getting comfortable would have meant ripping off the chastity belt, throwing Robert down on the floor, freeing his cock, and riding him until I exploded. Unfortunately, I suspected Robert’s current state of cock bondage was due to Kari’s concern that I might do something exactly like that. So instead I sat down on the couch. Robert came up, touched my shoulder, and handed me something. I held out my palm and he dropped a set of nipple clamps, connected with a silver chain, into my hand.

“Kari also said that she’d like you to be wearing these when she gets here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Have I not been tormented enough for that woman?” I demanded. Robert wisely didn’t answer, but just stroked my cheek down to the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. I shivered. It felt incredible.

“Want me to put them on for you?”

I looked up at him. Oh God YES. I nodded and handed him back the clamps.

“If I do it they’ll be really tight,” he warned me.

“Just do it, Robert.” I told him.

His warm hand cupped my left breast and then pain shot up through me as the clamp bit down, hard. It wasn’t the same type of hurt I feel when I’m wearing the alligator clamps. That’s a penetrative cutting hurt. This was more of a crushing pain. I looked down. My nipple was distended and had been smashed into something no thicker than a few millimeters wide. I hissed even as Robert’s hand surrounded my other breast, thumbing the nipple into turgid hardness before clamping it as well.

It took me a few moments to adjust, but I finally did and Robert sat down across from me. We talked sex, torture, sex torture, all sorts of things. Twenty minutes later Kari arrived. Robert immediately got on his knees and crawled over to her, helping her remove her shoes, holding her belongings, and then finally following her back over to the couch where I sat. Kari saw me, grinned, and planted a soft kiss on my cheek.

While grabbing hold of the chain between my breasts.

She pulled me up off the couch by the chain and I squealed and rose, hurt exploding through my breasts. I was tugged to the floor and told to get on all fours. I obeyed as she released the chain, turning back toward Robert. I hung my head, looking behind me as Robert’s cock was freed from the leather sheath. It was hard and glistened, as if it were coated in oil. Kari put her hand on him and pushed him toward me. I knew what was coming.

His hands went around my waist and found the buckle of the chastity belt. It came loose and I groaned as some of the pressure on the two phalli inside me relaxed. Then Robert was working the crotch belt loose and I winced as I was suddenly left empty, my pussy and ass both convulsing with tiny pulses, trying to understand what had happened. Why was the chastity belt gone? He set it aside and then I felt the tip of his cock on my still wide open and slight red ass hole.

And then Robert was the first guy to fuck me up the ass. After spending almost a full four days with a butt plug in my rear end, having a cock almost felt anti-climactic. Sure, it felt better than the plug, and the movement was great, but it wasn’t what I REALLY wanted. I can’t cum while being ass fucked. But Master Barrett knows this.

Kari had lubricated Robert with something thick and goopy, and I sort of suspect it was petroleum jelly but I’m not sure. He spent about four minutes back there while I just took it, bent over. Then I felt his cock harden and wham! My butt was filled. Just like that.

As he pulled out I felt Kari’s hand on my head. “Stay there sweetheart,” she told me.

She left the room and came back. I heard a click as the cap came off the marker and then Robert was signing my left butt cheek. I tried to hold still, but it tickled a bit. When he was done, Kari had me stand up and directed me to the bathroom to clean up.

Of course I checked the mirror. Reddened hole, some stretched and abraded skin, and a fucking SIGNATURE, like I was some sort of art work, on my ass. My little spurt of anger was enough to keep me from touching my pussy and I headed back to the living room.

Robert disappeared while Kari and I chatted. It was like old times. I was naked, except for the nipple clamps which were still dangling from my tits, and Kari was fully dressed and looking like a million bucks. I slipped right back into my subservient mode, listening politely, even offering to make drinks.

Robert joined up about ten minutes later, this time fully dressed. Kari kissed him once, gave me a smile, and then asked “ready to go?”

And I realized… I’m about to go get butt fucked four more time. That’s a sobering thought for someone who doesn’t like it. My nipples ached a bit and I nodded. Robert grabbed my duster and held it out for me. I slipped my arms in and then started to button it up.

“Just the bottom two buttons dear.” Kari’s look was very intense. I obeyed and we all left.

Being escorted by Kari and Robert felt much better than being out on my own. All I had to do was sit there, be responsive, and let Kari handle things. Kari drove. I sat in the front and Robert got in the back. We didn’t take the convertible this time; rather we took Robert’s SUV. He smiled at me from the back seat.

Kari drove us along Houston’s back roads for about fifteen minutes and then we pulled up into a rather well manicured business park. I’d never been inside the building before, but felt more than a little conspicuous as Kari and Robert escorted me in. I figured we’d end up at a bar. Evidently Kari had more auspicious plans for me. Up the elevator and down a long hallway we found ourselves in front of a solid door with a narrow floor length window. I won’t mention the name plate, except to say that this was the office of a guy named Richard. I won’t mention what he does either. While I’m sure he’d love the advertising, getting asked “what was it like to butt fuck Breanne” is probably not on his list of important questions to field on the phone.

In any event, we went in. There was a very small waiting area, but the door to the back office was wide open and Kari stuck her head in and waved. I could hear Richard speaking on the phone. I took the opportunity to look around. The office had Kari’s touch all over it. She’s an interior designer and I could tell she handled this one. It was a combination of old world antique with modern lines. Black leather, dark stained oak or mahogany (I can’t tell the difference), lots of burnished silver. It was… masculine and very rich. I liked it. In a lot of ways it reminded me of Robert.

“Kari!” Richard’s voice said in greeting. He was about five nine, and so much shorter than Robert, who is around six four. His dark brown hair was thinning slightly on top, but he was in good shape, without the usual paunch men around forty have. His shoes were patent leather and his suit, or what he was wearing of it, seemed expensive. He wasn’t wearing his coat, but the tie looked like silk. He kissed Kari on the cheek and then shook hands with Robert. Evidently they knew each other. I made like a mouse and sorta tried to look inconspicuous.

Which I suppose is hard to do when you’re naked except for flip flops, a mostly open down the front denim duster, with your breasts mostly on display, obviously sporting a chain connected to barely concealed nipple clamps.

“And this must be Breanne.”

I nodded, my heart racing.

He gave me a reassuring smile. He looked back at Kari. “And she’s okay with this?”

Kari laughed. “She’s the one who asked me to shepherd her. You’re the one doing ME the favor.”

Richard laughed. “Some favor!” He looked back at me and smiled again. “Well, come along Breanne. I hear that nympho humiliation pain sluts need a good fucking now and again. Oh… and I like the website.”

I’m sure Michael will be pleased. As for me, I stepped forward, took his outstretched hand, and was pulled into his office. The door closed, separating Kari and Robert from us.

He was gentle, which was nice, but it felt odd being naked in front of that huge window. I could see half of Houston, and I FELT as if half of them could see me. I was told to take off my duster and I stood there naked, being examined. Richard touched me practically everywhere, but it wasn’t until his fingers found my pussy that I relaxed, letting the sensation of his touch pleasure through me.

But evidently he had been told I wasn’t allowed to cum. I was maneuvered over to the desk, behind it, as if I were going to sit down in his chair. And then I was pushed down, bent over his blotter. The clamps tugged awkwardly at my nipples, but I didn’t adjust them. I endured.

Richard took a moment to take off his trousers and drape them over his chair. He was wearing green silk boxers. A minor adjustment exposed his cock and then he pulled me up OFF the blotter. I blinked, confused, but then he pushed me down onto my knees. Ah… blowjob first.

I was fine with that. A good blowjob would reduce the amount of time I spent with cock up my ass. So I did a good job. He actually ended up sitting back down in his chair and I worked him good. Finally I could tell he was getting close and I tugged on his cock, stood up, and then resumed my position on his desk.

His dick was still wet from my mouth, and my ass was still greased from my earlier fuck. He went in smoothly. Well… as smoothly as my muscles would allow. I have to really concentrate to let cock… or anything… go up my ass. He pistoned for a few moments and then exploded, filling me just like Robert did.



When he pulled out I helped him with the condom and through it in the trash. Then I spotted a cup filled with pens on his desk. I grabbed one of his Sharpie markets, black of course, and turned back around to let him sign. He did. Right side. Smack dab in the middle of my buttock.

I got back into my duster and Richard gave me a kiss. He thanked me for the experience and then I was back with Robert and Kari, who obviously had been getting into their own fun in the waiting room. They stood up, smoothing their clothes back into place and then Kari and Richard chatted for a bit and we left.

Our next stop was a little weird. It was a hole in the wall recording studio just south of the University. I’d never been there before but it looked cool. Kari waltzed in like she owned the place and Robert and I trailed behind her until we came to a small office. She rapped on the door frame, since the door was open, and I heard the typical Black American slang accent frame a greeting.

“Kari! What’s up girl?” Or is it “Kari, wutz zup, gurl?” I have no idea. I’m not racist or anything, but I AM inexperienced. I mean seriously, would a South Texas Cow Girl hang around with a bunch of… um.. I don’t even know the right word. Homies? Gangstas? Brothers? Dudes? I’m just so not good at this.

I was introduced to KC and never told what the K or the C stood for. For all I know that was his name. Or maybe his initials. I remember thinking “God, I hope his middle name wasn’t Franklin or something. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? KFC?” As it turned out, I found out later that night that there is a D after the KC, so who knows.

KC was a DJ, a singer, a rapper, and a sound engineer. Talented guy. He came out from his office, which was nicely decorated and led us all toward the sound studio. This was where I finally realized how Kari knew KC. Once again, her soft touch made it obvious. While the studio was trashed with electrical cords or mic cords or whatever, the walls were obviously Kari’s design. Especially the lighting. It was… smooth is the best word I can think of. It made me want to sing. I didn’t sing, but I groaned a lot. Kari had me take off the duster and then I was pushed gently over a large carpeted speaker box. Then, to my surprise, KC positioned a huge sponge covered microphone in my face. He left the room for a moment, and then moved behind me.

KC was not an especially large guy, and I’m talking height and bulk. He was taller than me sure, but most of the planet is. He wasn’t as big as Robert, that’s for sure. But there was one part that WAS as big as Robert, and I found out rather quickly after bending over that speaker. And KC pushed. He wasn’t as gentle as either of my previous ass fucks, but since I was so accustomed to having stuff rammed up my ass, his penetration wasn’t anything to worry about. Sure, I whimpered. I groaned. And since I was obviously being recorded, I hammed it up. I moaned. I whined. I grunted. Then I begged. Very different from my two previous ass fucks. All in all, a very nice performance.

Which earned me a raised eyebrow from Kari.

When KC was done he sighed in satisfaction and pulled up his pants. I stayed in position, just breathing and trying not to think about my pussy. I was wrong. Getting ass fucked, while not a direct stimulation situation, DOES turn me on eventually. Of course, I was already so desperate that fucking a cactus would probably have gotten me off.

Kari held out the marker for KC to sign me. When he did, it felt rather odd. He signed on my left buttock, but I felt the marker go almost right up to my anus and I was pretty sure he drew an arrow. I found out later I was right.

Three down. Two to go. And it was getting close to five.

Back in the car I winced slightly as I sat down. My rear end was sore. Sure, I had spent the last four days stuffed with a four inch deep two inch wide vibrator plug, but there hadn’t been much movement. It’s having cock move in and out through your sphincter that really creates the stress in ass fucking. Trust me. I know.

Another drive of twenty or so minutes followed and to my surprise we pulled up in front of a strip club. A real strip club. It was off Westheimer, but I’d never been in the building before. Kari and Robert however seemed to know their way around and we proceeded to the front door. Rather than pay a cover charge and go in, Kari extracted her business card and handed it to the cute girl at the counter, asking to see the manager. It was only a few moments before a slightly overweight guy with sandy brown hair showed up, arms wide.

“Kari!” Hugs followed and I had to wonder if Kari had done the decorating at the strip club. That would be so… uh… cool? Yeah. Cool.

I was introduced to Brian (whose last name will remain undisclosed to protect the innocent… and the guilty, just like all the other guys I’ve mentioned today.) The four of us went into the main room and I got a couple of hostile glances from some of the half-naked lingerie clad strippers walking by.

Okay, let me make one thing perfectly clear. I am not, nor ever have been, nor ever will be, a stripper. The whole industry is questionable. Lots of drugs, lots of strange parties, and not very much control. I know it SEEMS like I don’t have control as a NHPS, but in truth I do. I can always say NO. The whole thought of fucking for money turns me off. Sure, I’ll accept a twenty waved in my face like the next girl, but I don’t have sex for money. I have sex because I love it.

Master Barrett asked me the other day what I looked for in a guy when I was out and about looking for targets. I thought about it. Obviously the first thing I look for is cleanliness. I don’t fuck slobs. Or seriously overweight people. Twenty to forty pounds overweight is one thing. Topping out at three hundred just doesn’t cut it. Then I try to get a feel for the guy. Does he smile? How does he hold himself? And then lastly, I try to look for geeks and nerds. These guys are usually sweet, gentle, and haven’t had a sexy girl in ages, if ever. Some might call me predatory, but what I’m trying to do is make them happy. Oh yeah, and give myself orgasms. But hey, why not spread it all around, right?

So stripper and whore I am not and I tried to ignore the looks I was getting. I guess my pretty much open duster was an issue. Hell, I wasn’t even wearing my stripper shoes! But we didn’t sit down in the main room. We were led to the back of the building and entered a plain door and then went up a narrow flight of stairs.

To the balcony. Wow. Very nice. And oh look! Private rooms!

Kari and Robert were shown to a table and a waitress came out and took their orders – complimentary of course. On the house. I was asked to take off my coat. I did, feeling a little less exposed on the second story than the first and left it draped over a chair. Then Brian took my hand and I was led away from Kari and Robert.

To a small VIP Room. It had a settee, a lounge chair, a wastebasket, and subdued lighting. I wasn’t sure if Kari had decorated. The room smelled like sex and citrus cleaner. Brian sat down on the chair and motioned for me to begin.

Uh…

I may not be a stripper, but I can act like one. And I did. I weaved. I danced. I swayed. I straddled his lap and did a lap dance. I rubbed myself all over his body. He tugged on my nipple clamps and things just went crazy from there. I ended up slipping down to the floor, my hands at his waist, freeing his cock until I was able to wrap my mouth around him. I did a great job too. He was putty in my hands. And then he grabbed me, pulled me up, turned me round, and sat me down in his lap. His hands guided my thighs over the seat’s armrests and then I felt him lift me at the hips, positioning me properly. I felt his cock against my rear and then I relaxed, letting myself slip down.

It was a porn position, and not really suitable for sex. I’m sure it looked awesome though. It only took him two or three minutes to literally pick me up and put me on the settee, where I was I was promptly penetrated again. My rear end puckered around his cock, and I was bent over with him banging me from behind.

When we were finished I was offered a moist towelette and escorted back to Kari’s table. I was asked to bend over and he signed my ass with the offered marker. Hugs were exchanged, I got back in my duster and flipflops. Brian came over to me, kissed me on the cheek, and then offered me a job.

Our next stop was an upscale apartment not far from where Kari lived. I was introduced to Alan Green who invited us all into his bachelor pad with a smile. Once again, I could see Kari’s design touch. This time by adding splashes of color to what would otherwise have been a very black dark shadowed cave. Kari has this ability to sense what style goes with her client and then work within that style to soften it and bring out the best. She is especially good with lighting.

My duster was taken from me after a few minutes of chatting and then I was taken to the back bedroom while Kari and Robert downed their drinks. The master bedroom was pretty large, with a full king sized bed. Alan wasn’t a terribly large man, but he was thirty something, and topped six feet at least. Not as tall as Robert. Not as short as K.C.

Alan was gentle. He touched me, caressed me, kissed me, stroked me, all the while staying away from the one part of me I really wanted touched, caressed, kissed, and stroked. Hell, I would have settled for a whipping at that point. He slowly undressed with my help and once again I gave an impromptu blowjob.

When he was ready he positioned me on all fours, in the very center of the bed, and climbed up behind me. I felt the tip of his condom covered cock on my rear and then he began pushing. He had trouble. I did too. The bed was very very soft, one of those space foam things and I kept sinking into it. Finally he pushed me to my stomach, straddled me, and I felt his cock slip through the crack of my ass. He pumped, enjoying the curve of my rear end under his hips and then the tip of his cock moved downward. I felt him against my ass, but I didn’t relax in time and his cock slipped farther down.

And then in.

I gasped at the penetration. My pussy convulsed around his cock. He began pumping obviously either unaware he was in the wrong hole, or not caring. The fire inside me roared into a blaze and I clenched my fingers around the sheets as I came, crying out, gasping in release and relief. It happened in moments and I had no control. No time. And then I just sort of went limp.

Alan came too and collapsed on top of me. His weight felt good and I was all smiles and deep sighs. Endorphins had rushed through my brain like bullets and I felt as if I had just had the absolute best sex of my life. Four days of orgasm denial can do wonders for plain vanilla sex. Usually I don’t cum like that unless I’ve been vibrated, whipped, clamped, waxed, and then force fucked with something inappropriately large.

It was awesome. After a few moments, Alan rolled off me, running his fingers up and down my back. I sighed softly and then turned and looked at him.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to do it like that.”

I smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it. It felt incredible.”

He grimaced. “Yeah it did. It’s been a while for me. I know I was supposed to do your bottom, but it just sort of…” his voice trailed off.

“Happened,” I finished for him. He nodded.

“Think Kari will mind?” he asked. I shrugged. I knew the real question would be whether Master Barrett minded.

I gave him a smile and then sat up in the bed. His cock was limp and still a little wet. I leaned over, touched him, and gave him one of my million watt please fuck me in the ass smiles.

“You still need to fuck me in the ass. Let me get you hard again.”

And I went down on him. He groaned as I rolled his cock around in my mouth. I played with his balls, stroked him, sucked him, even blew a little. Lots of licking. It took another fifteen minutes, but with some concerted manipulation, a few soft sounds, and some naughty suggestions about what he could do to me, I soon had him hard again.

We tried again. This time he was successful. I groaned as his cock slid into my rear end and we pumped. It took him a long time to get off. Thank God for lubrication gel. It made things a lot easier. Finally he came and we repeated the whole quiet soft moment after sex.

Eventually we got up and I donned my duster again, slipping my feet into my flip flops. Back in the living room I saw that Kari’s face was rather flushed and Robert looked slightly pleased with himself. I said my goodbyes to Alan, which consisted of a rather passionate pleased kiss, and then accompanied Kari and Robert downstairs.

“That took a long time. Do you need to tell me anything?” Kari asked as we got into Robert’s car. I smiled and shook my head. When she reads this, I’m going to be in trouble.

We went to dinner then. I was allowed to button up my duster all the way, but otherwise I stayed naked, with the clamps on. Hibachi is awesome, especially when you’re still turned on and doing the flasher thing.

Back at Kari’s apartment we did one more thing. I think you know.



Hope you're happy. See ya tomorrow.

Daily Assignment 11/21/10 Keeping Abreast of Things

Keeping Abreast of Things

11/21/10

Day two of forced orgasm denial sucked. Not so much in the assignment that was given to me, but the very fact that I'm extremely horny now, desperate to explode, and I'll I've got is two rather firmly embedded phallic shafts stuck up my ass and pussy. They aren't buzzing. They aren't moving. There's no stimulation. I'm just... stuffed. Combine that with some obvious sexual assignments, dressing like a two bit whore, the occasional lubrication with Stinging O (after every bathroom break no less) and two minutes of high powered vibration every two hours, and I'm at a point where I'm starting to think about what to offer Master Barrett in exchange to get out of this damn chastity belt.


Saturday's assignment had me still stuffed to the gills, with another outing in the works. This one was short though. In fact, it was rather simple. Dress in Daisy Duke shorts, high heels, a bikini top, and buy some rubber bands. Specific Rubber Bands. Thick ones. About as big as my wrist, maybe a little smaller. So right after lunch I threw my shorts, bikini and high heels into my bag and headed out the door.


I was in my usual attire when I pulled up on the Farm to Market road behind our farm. Stripping and getting into the new outfit was easy, except for the Daisy Duke shorts. These were a bit tight, especially when put on over the chastity belt and to be honest, the black leather strap between my legs was visible not only as bumps under the denim, but also along the edges of the crotch. Quite uncomfortable. Daisy dukes are not meant to be worn with leather undies. For my top I had selected one of my dark green bikini tops, just two little triangles that did only a legal job of covering my breasts. Nipples actually. The rest of the bikini was just made of some cotton string that tied behind my back and neck. So in front of my truck I finished getting dressed, felt the cool seventy degree breeze on my skin, and then went shopping.


The biggest problem I was facing was where to buy the rubber bands. The kind I needed were a little more intense than what you could find at Wal-Mart, which was good since I didn't want to be running around Wally world wearing short shorts and bikini top. That left either a hardware store (unlikely) or one of the office supply stores in the area. Figuring that the office supply store would be the best choice, I headed to our local OfficeXXXX.


Walking in got me a couple of hard stares, but I managed to get inside and make myself unobtrusive enough that I was left alone. I wandered the aisles for a bit until I found the rubber bands, but was disappointed. Nothing was wide enough (I needed almost an inch), and nothing was small enough. It was disappointing. So I headed out and went to another Office store. Again, I got odd looks as I walked in and this time I was approached by a man wearing a name tag who asked me what I was looking for, all while eyefucking me. I decided since I was already being ogled, to let the man help me, so I explained exactly what I needed. Then I was able to turn right around and leave the store. They didn't have them either.




So next I went to a hardware store, the big one. You know which one I'm talking about. And guess what. They didn't have them either! Well, what the fuck! I was running out of options. Next I drove to Mike’s Hardware shop. Just my luck. Mike wasn’t there and the assistant manager didn’t have anything along those lines either. Of course this was said while he was staring at my breasts. I thanks him and left, wondering where the hell I was going to find thick rubber bands.

In America, when we don’t know where to find something, there is always one last option, one catch all store that has more crap at cheap prices than an Asian outdoor market: Wal-Mart. And so I found myself being one of those fixtures of astonished looks as I made my way into Wal-Mart.

It was packed, and let me tell you, I was feeling it. I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut, and like it. But the looks I was getting… everything from “geeze can I fuck you right here and now” to “you fucking whore, get the hell away from me.” The scrutiny, the stares, the hard glares. It was almost too much. I moved quickly away from the grocery end of the store toward the office supplies.

No luck. They’re selection was even WORSE than the office supply stores I had tried. No one seemed to have thick rubber bands. Dejected I headed back toward the door.

It was pure happenstance that I walked past a lady with a shopping cart full of produce. She was looking at me with this sort of undisguised hostility. Maybe if I had been in flip flops and not high heels I wouldn’t have looked so sluttish, but at that point I didn’t care. Because sitting in her cart was a plastic produce bag containing what looked to be something like Romaine lettuce. And wrapped around it, halfway up, was a thick, blue, rubber band.

And it was exactly the right size.

I turned into the produce section and began scanning, ignoring the looks I was getting. It took me only a few moments to find them and I grabbed two, a look of satisfaction on my face. I turned back toward the front of the store, intending to get in line, but then I remembered: I was supposed to try them on.

Oh God.

I bit my lip and headed toward the back of the store. For a second, I thought about just grabbing any shirt and going to the dressing rooms. Master Barrett didn’t specify that I had to try the bands on in public, but I figured that would get me into more trouble than I could handle. So I went to housewares. This section of Wal-Mart never seems to be that busy. I know. I’ve done assignments at Wally World before. So once down a deserted aisle, I pulled the rubber bands off the whatever-it-was produce, and stretched them over my breasts, right over the bikini top.



Perfect fit. My breasts suddenly bulged like ripe grapefruit, sticking out oddly. My bikini top stretched to cover them. It felt…. Awesome. All I needed now was to be splayed spread-eagled on a table while someone whipped my breasts.

I had a bit of trouble getting the rubber bands off. They were tight. But I managed to get them back on the produce, lettuce, whatever, and head back toward the registers. I went through the express checkout, still getting constantly eye fucked, though no one said anything. I made my purchase: $3.18 and then, with a bag full of lettuce, I went to the ladies bathroom right at the front of the store.

In a stall, I worked off the rubber bands and held them in my hand. This was going to be the worst part. According to Master Barrett, I had to leave the store WEARING them. I started to shake. Before I was just an underdressed girl who looked like a slut. By wearing the rubber bands out, on my breast, I wasn’t just a girl who looked like a slut, I was declaring to everyone that I WAS a kinky, sexually perverted slut of a girl who was probably stuffed to the gills with sex toys.

Truth hurts. Doesn’t it.

So I injected about twenty cc’s of steel into my spine, slipped the rubber bands over each of my tits, gave myself a quick examination in the mirror and headed toward the parking lot at something short of a run but much faster than a stroll. My bag of lettuce was in my hand and my breasts seemed to precede me as I left the store.

The stares I got were now more incredulous, and I saw a couple of people reaching for their iphones. Yeah. I moved a little more quickly. But not quickly enough. One guy reached out as I passed, his fingers snagging the bikini tie at my neck. One pull loosened it and the strings fell.

And my bikini stayed on. The rubber bands around the base of my breasts held the strings trapped, keeping that little triangle of material firmly fixed over my rather hardened nipple. Of course I still reacted with a little cry and clasping my arms to my chest, but it didn’t take me long to realize that it hadn’t mattered. I practically ran to the truck, as fast as my high heels allowed.

I fumbled with the keys but finally managed to get in and I peeled out of the lot with a quick press of the accelerator. Talk about humiliating. I was flushed, scared, embarrassed, distressed, and flustered, all at the same time. My breasts began throbbing. And then I noticed one more thing.

I was desperate. Really desperate. My hips were grinding, trying to make the dildo in my pussy move. Even my ass was clenching around the plug, wanting. I could feel my pussy ripen, juices lubricating me as I squeezed the phallus inside me. I hadn’t cum in a day and a half and it was starting to get to me. I needed a cold shower. I needed peace. I needed cock.

When I got home, I handed the bag of lettuce to my mom who took it with appreciation. Salad for the evening meal, right? She patted my shoulder, through my tee shirt, never noticing that the rubber bands from the lettuce were missing.

Or that my breasts seemed unusually pronounced, bulging forward as if something were constricting around the base, making them swell.

Me? I’m still desperate. Still needy. And probably will be for a while. We’ll see. But for now, my rubber bands are in the toy box. Waiting. Just like me.

Daily Assignment 11/20/10 Blowjob Friday

Blowjob Friday

11/20/10

I'm gonna burn this thing when I'm done.

As some of you may know, I've been stuffed into a chastity belt for the weekend due to my failure to achieve ten orgasms on Thursday. My chastity belt is decidedly uncomfortable, with both a butt plug and a dildo, that fits tightly into both holes. Add a small rubber coated bump at the front, directly over my clit, and the whole thing becomes rather irritating. And that's with the vibrators off. With them on, it becomes maddening. Fortunately, I don't have to have the vibes on very often, or for that long, and I get to choose which vibe I turn on. Since the goal of this weekend is to keep me sexually stimulated but not orgasming, I'm pretty careful to only turn on the anal plug vibrator. I could go all day with it on frankly, and not cum.

But while wearing the chastity belt seems to be designed to keep me in my sexual place, it WASN'T my assignment for Friday. Why? Because Friday is Blowjob Day, and Master Barrett took a page from Master Mark's book, who felt that even if I wasn't receiving any pleasure, others shouldn't be denied. So Master Barrett directed me to find someone to give that pleasure too. In fact, he even asked me to find a girl as well. I objected. Not because I mind girl girl sex, but because finding a bi or lesbian girl is a lot harder than finding a guy to give a blowjob too. As I explained to Master Barrett, if you ask ten different guys if you can give them a no-strings-attached blowjob, two will say no, four will suspiciously go along with it, and four will whip out their cocks right there in front of you. Master Barrett's response? "Fine. Then blow five guys instead of one if its so easy to find willing guys."

Me and my big mouth.

There were some other caveats as well. Master Barrett had something rather specific in mind for my attire. He even sent me a picture.

As you can see, the little school slut... uh... I mean GIRL fashion is now in vogue. Thank God it's warm enough right now. Mid-seventies here. So Friday afternoon I shoved a plaid pleated short skirt into my bag, along with a white blouse, some white knee high stockings, and my black pumps with the three inch heel. As is probably apparent to everyone, this was NOT my first time dressing up as a little school girl. Kari used to make me do it back when we were in college. To be honest, she was much cruller than Master Barrett. The first time she made me do it, I wasn't given a plaid skirt, I was given a pair of super short skorts... with the short part cut out of them. Then we went to a party with literally half my ass hanging out and my pussy practically on display. I don't remember much after we got there. I sorta had too much to drink.

What? So I had a wild childhood!

So with everything in my bag, I traipsed out to my truck, tossed everything in, and headed out. My first stop was my usual stripping place, a rather infrequently used Farm to Market road just south of our farm. It actually borders our property, so technically, when I pull over, I'm ON my own land. It was sunny, slightly warm with a south breeze and a perfect day to be semi-naked. I got out of the truck, went to the front of the truck, and started stripping.

The first thing to go was my shirt. Then my boots and socks, followed by my jeans and bra. Everything was folded nicely and placed on the hood of the truck. This left me stark naked, with the exception of a wide black leather belt that went around my middle, which was connected to another black leather strap between my legs. So stuffed and naked, I started to get out my new attire when another truck appeared over the hill behind me. I turned to look, which no doubt gave the driver a good look at both my ass and my breasts. He rolled to a stop across from me and I looked into blue eyes below sandy blond hair, a chin with two or three days of beard, and a tee shirt.

"Well, don't see that every day," he said politely. I smiled. He seemed like a nice guy. I posed for him, flashing one of my million watt please can I suck your cock smiles. I pirouetted like a ballerina Then I realized I had an opportunity.

"Would you like a blowjob?" I asked. His eyes widened and then he grinned.

"Well only if you'd like to do one."

"Pull over."

He pulled his Chevy behind my Ford (heh...no comments about the metaphor please) and I sauntered on over, still naked, leaving my outfit on my truck hood. I climbed in the passenger side of his truck, gave him a smile, and then bent over to get his dick out.

He wasn't quite hard. Stiff maybe, but not hard, and I had to play with him a little to get him standing at attention. I get it. Guys look at porn a lot, so they become desensitized to naked girls. I don't really mind that much. It just means I get to showcase my oral talents. He was wearing boxers, which was a definite plus, and when I got his cock out I found that he was a pretty decent size. I slipped him into my mouth and began giving him the best blowjob I possibly could.

Why the fuck do they call it a blowjob anyway? I mean, sure OCCASSIONALY I might blow a little air down the sides of a guys cock, but mostly I suck. And lick. And stroke. Lots of stroking. I know porn videos make it seem like you should just do use your mouth, but fuck that. The idea is to make the guy cum and feel good right? Well just using your mouth doesn't do a good enough job. You need to use your hands, mouth, and tongue to do it right. I alternate between licks, sucking, stroking, and I even lightly caress a guys balls while sucking on him. The big thing to remember is to tantalize the tip of his cock with your tongue while make long slow strokes up his shaft at the same time. I also love this one caress I do, where I rub my fingers around the tip of his cock, right on the sensitive edge in a twisting motion while my other hand goes up and down his shaft. Also, you don't have to stroke the skin. You can grab hold and pump too. Lots of practice helps as well.

So I had my truck driving cow hand cumming in like ten minutes. It was thick gloop too. Evidently he hadn't masturbated in awhile because I ended up swallowing quite a bit of it. When we were finished, he asked me out on a date. I told him I was busy, but gave him my business card. So hopefully he's reading this and decides to email me! LOL. Anyway, I climbed out of his truck and headed back to mine. Getting dressed wasn't a big deal. I slipped the stockings on, then the skirt went over the chastity belt. Then I put on the white blouse, which I tied in a knot below my breasts, rather than button. Last, I put on my black high heels. Thus fully dressed, I was ready for adventure. And four more cocks.

Back in my truck I headed toward town. I avoided the mall. I've been there too often recently and my last little adventure there had left a bad taste in my mouth. Instead I headed toward Houston and turned north on highway 6 in order to find a suitable spot to do my hunting. Another strip mall afforded me what I was looking for. The problem with blowjobs is that you need a private place and about ten to fifteen minutes. In this particular spot, I found one of those horrible "cellphone" shops. Inside was a rather bored clerk, who obviously had nothing to do. I provided him with some needed distraction.

When you dress like a slut, you have to move like one too. That means walking a certain way. Kari made me practice when I was in high school. You cross your feet when you walk. You move your hips. You lower your head and look at people through your eyelashes. There is a whole different demeanor you have to adopt. It's complicated. So when I walked into that store I did all the right things. Mr. Clerk perked right up. Of course the fact I my ass was swinging side to side in a short little plaid skirt, and my tits were almost falling out of a white blouse that was just TIED together, loosely, might have had something to do with it. In short, I had his attention. I walked right up, smiled, and said, "Hi. I'm Breanne. I was wondering if I could suck your cock."

As a committed NHPS I'm trying to spread love and peace throughout the world. One guy at a time. I suppose eventually we can start an "I fucked or got blown by breanneNHPS" club. May peace and love reign throughout the known world.

Needless to say, things went just as easy for my third and fourth blowjobs. Managed to get an electronics repair guy in his own shop as well as the clerk at an eyeglasses repair place. It just went smoothly. Of course I was horny. Of course I wanted to get fucked. Especially since a couple of guys ASKED me if I wanted a fucking. But just in case, I had put the lock on my chastity belt earlier. SO NO ACCESS. I should have put a sign on my rear that said "Temporarily Closed". Wouldn't that have been funny?

My last blowjob was actually on the way home. Truck stop. I decided to head back there. I like those big cabs. Lots of privacy. The first cab I approached accepted, though I admit the driver thought I was a hooker. When I told him he was getting it for free he had trouble believing me. He even tried to tip me! Crazy, huh? I turned it down and told him a mouth full of cum was its own reward. I can't believe I said that. Argggghhh.

Afterward, I went back to my little farm to market road, stripped again in front of my truck. No passersby this time. I ended up back in my boots and jeans, tee shirt and bra. Oh. And of course, my chastity belt. No cumming for me. We'll, see what happens tomorrow.