Monday, November 8, 2010
Daily Assignment 11/08/10 Alligators, Earthquakes, and Orgasms
Alligators, Earthquakes, and Orgasms
You know, I’m not sure how today will go. I’m stuffed with my Husky dildo and things are going to be a little easier. Which is good. I hurt. Not in a bad way, but in a “oh god please don’t touch my clit with ANYTHING” kind of way. My absolute nightmare right now would be someone coming up to me, ordering me to lie down and spread my legs, and then giving me hundred strokes with a sap, right on my pussy. I’d do it in a heartbeat of course, but I’d be screaming in about two seconds too. Hmmm… I wonder….
Uh. Never mind. Yesterday was almost as bad as my nightmare. Four sets of orgasms, with each set having four separate orgasms almost gave me a heart attack. Worse, the only stimulation available was my ben wa balls, my butterfly clitoral stimulator, and three rather painful, metal toothed clamps, two of which went on my nipples, while the third was attached to my clit, UNDER the butterfly. Let me tell you, that ain’t no picnic. It was agony and ecstasy all rolled up into one little tortilla.
Yesterday morning my first orgasm of my first set was accomplished right there in front of the computer. I posted immediately afterward and then headed downstairs, my clit and nipples still clamped, the butterfly buzzing happily away at its maximum setting, and my clit sore and tender from not only a morning orgasm while being chewed on by an evil metal toothed clamp, but from a PREVIOUS day of vibrational almost non-stop stimulation. In short, I had a tiny fuse.
The nice thing about being a nympho is that everything (literally everything) pretty much turns you on. I can get horny looking at a stove. Watching football? Sure. I’m soaked. Driving down the road in rush hour? Chances are my fingers are between my legs. I’m pretty sure that this isn’t normal. I mean seriously, how many people are CONSTANTLY turned on? And I pretty much am. You could walk up to me at any hour of the day, put your finger up my skirt, touch my pussy, and I’m wet. Weird huh?
The nice thing about being a pain slut is that hurt, especially sexual hurt, is ALSO a turn on. I know, kinky huh? Granted, you coming over and breaking my arm isn’t what I call a fun sexual time. But you coming over and pinching, biting, hitting, slapping, whipping, waxing, or just generally abusing my clit, or my nipples, or my ass is like throwing gasoline on a fire. It doesn’t START the fire, but it sure makes it burn hotter and higher.
So my burning clit and aching nipples didn’t really stop me from having a second orgasm about fifteen minutes later. If anything, they made it easier to cum. I tried (and somewhat succeeded) in getting a few of my chores done, all the while buzzing and hurting and getting closer to my third orgasm. That came when I was putting the goat feed out. You should have seen me. I looked ridiculous. Cowboy boots, my duster, bare legs, and underneath the shortest skirt I’ve ever owned and a halter top. And let me tell you, that skirt is super short. Literally my ass hangs out of it if I wear it at my hips. To be even somewhat decent I have to pull it down UNDER my hips so it covers my rear and pussy, but then you can practically see the TOP of my slit. I think there’s about half an inch of leeway. Crazy. And don’t even THINK about me bending over to pick something up.
So there I was, shaking and crying out in orgasmic release, in a combination of pain and overwhelming pleasure, while leaning on a fence, being watched by forty goat voyeurs. I wonder if they enjoyed the show. Afterward I swayed my way along, accomplishing a few more feats of sexually charged chores, frequently finding myself clutching things to stay upright as my tender parts told me that they were being abused beyond reckoning. My fourth orgasm wasn’t very powerful, more of a wave, but it WAS an orgasm and I ended up on a hay bale, removing the clamps and turning off the butterfly while shaking.
It had been my intention to go over to Kari’s after I was done with my chores and first set, mostly because I needed the semi-privacy, and because four sets were going to take me a long time. Sixteen orgasms, even if they aren’t the big single mind blowing massive explosions I had when I was trying to beat my record, is still a lot.
But it wasn’t even seven am yet, and too be honest, Kari is a late sleeper, especially on the weekend. Sundays especially. She isn’t a church person and if Robert (her live-in boy toy sex slave) is, I didn’t know about it. It was really cold outside so I ended up at Wal-Mart.
What? The mall was closed. Did you want me to walk around the grocery store for an hour or two?
Somewhat recovered, I headed into Wally World and did some browsing. Nothing serious of course, but what I made sure to do was walk. Every aisle. Up and down. Relatively fast.
Ben wa balls are of ancient design and have been used to keep women in the throes of sexual readiness since men started sexually abusing women. Harems used to be stuffed with the things, so that any time the king wanted a woman, all that was needed was to pull the ben wa ball out, and she was completely ready. No foreplay needed. Men are pigs.
Modern ben wa balls are covered in latex, with a string connecting the two spheres. They are roughly golf ball sized and inside contain a small piece of metal with rolls and rings like a bell inside you. So every step you make is like a soft sexual caress. The faster you walk, and the more you walk, the more caresses you experience. After walking the aisles of a supercenter grocery store, I was pretty much charged for something to happen. To be honest, I wanted to cum. But part of my daily task was no cumming UNLESS it was in the proscribed way.
So I made my way to the very back of the store, in the crafts aisle and opened my duster. I didn’t bother sticking my hand down my skirt. I lifted it up. When your skirt doesn’t have a height of more than five and a half inches, it makes getting to your pussy really easy. I turned on the butterfly to maximum. Then I reached into my duster pocket, grabbed my clamps, and started applying them.
Don’t get me wrong. It hurt. Especially the clit clamp. My nipples burned when the alligators bit down on them. I pulled my halter back down, made sure my skirt was covering up as much as possible, then buttoned my duster.
I walked the store again, trying to stay away from people and not look like a drunkard. My first orgasm came in the sports equipment aisle and I just grit my teeth and took it. Fifteen minutes later I was shaking like a leaf on a tree as orgasm number 2 hit me. I wanted so desperately to turn off the butterfly, but instead I managed to head back out to my truck. I got it, drove maybe six miles down the freeway before having to pull over to keep from wrapping myself around a telephone pole and I exploded just sitting there. A little relieved I called Kari, explained my predicament, asked if I could come over.
Thank God I was close. I managed to pull into the parking lot as I felt the first overwhelming surges rushing through me. My clit felt as if someone was whacking it repeatedly with a thin cane, or maybe sawing at it. I’m not sure. All I know is that I managed to make it up the stairs of the luxury apartments, move down the balcony, and knock on Kari’s door.
It opened all most immediately and Kari was standing there. She was dressed in black leather and she gave me a single disgusted look and then shut the door in my face. I was having trouble just standing and all I wanted to do was touch my clit and cum. I let out a low moan and struggled out of my duster. It was very cold, not even sixty yet and the cold air seared me. I pulled off my halter, both nipples hard despite the cruel bite of the alligator clips chewing on them. Then I pushed my skirt down. It fell almost instantly, exposing my butterfly and sticking out from under it, the heavy metal alligator clamp attached to my clit.
I knocked again after I gathered up my clothes, shivering naked in the cold air. Kari opened the door and nodded. I stepped into warmth.
Before I had taken two steps Kari took my clothes and produced a set of handcuffs. My hands were locked behind my back and I was frog marched into the bedroom. I gasped. Robert was tied to the bed, spread eagled, his balls cruel crushed in some sort of leather sack tied tightly, and his cock was super hard, very straight, and quite red. A thick red ball gag in his mouth completed the tableau and I was positioned near his right hand and told not to move.
Kari produced a string which she tied to Robert’s fingers. Then she undid the leather wrist cuff holding his arm down and moved above his elbow. Now he had a bit of movement but not much. Kari took the string, tied it to the alligator clamp on my clit, then ordered me to get on the bed and suck him till he exploded.
I know Robert tried not to move his arm, but evidently he was already pretty sore. I found out later he had already had four orgasms and that can try any guy, especially if they had been done in under two hours. I guess Kari had woken early that morning. I worked my mouth around him and in short order he was jerking, the string pulled taut, my clit screaming in agony.
And I came for the eighth time that morning.
Kari was cool with things from there. I got a three hour rest, which wasn’t quite a rest because I spent the time either sucking or rubbing Robert. Kari wouldn’t let me fuck him. She was worried about me cumming and violating the assignment. Right after I ate lunch, Kari called me into the bedroom, held out my clamps, helped me put them on, and activated the butterfly. Then she and I tortured Robert. I’m not sure which of us hurt the most. I’m pretty sure Robert had been forced to take a dose of Viagra, but I’m not sure. All I know is that I spent the next two hours on my knees either with cock in my mouth or in my hand while trying to endure the buzzing pain on my clit. It was awesome.
Set four came after dinner and we did the same thing. Buzzing, sucking, and me so fucking desperate for something in my pussy besides ben wa balls. It was driving me crazy. All of my orgasms had been clitoral and I felt like someone had poured acid on my pussy. Kari ended up cuffing me, tying my feet together, and leaving me next to Robert, my hips grinding as I screamed into her comforter.
And that’s why I’m tender this morning.