Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Daily Assignment 11/17/10 Tacks, Ropes, and Rubber Bands

In case you didn’t read yesterday’s daily assignment (what the hell is wrong with you?) you should know that I over slept yesterday morning. Still wearing my ben wa balls and tack filled bra, I scrambled out of bed a full thirty minutes late, scrambled into my clothing, and headed downstairs to get my morning chores done. Being a farm girl has its disadvantages.

So I didn’t check my email until a little after six in the morning, which was just a tad too late. Especially since I found Master Barrett’s little daily assignment tidbit written with the understanding that I would wake up, go to the computer, and read my assignment.

What did it say? Oh, I’ve got no problem telling you. You see it got moved to today. Then a new assignment was given to me. So let’s do this in order, okay? I don’t want to get anyone confused. So with the old assignment moved to today, and the new assignment given to me, I realized I was in a shit load of trouble.

How did I know? Master Barrett wasn’t happy.

The first thing I had to do was strip. That wasn’t so hard. I was wearing white cotton socks, blue jeans, pink bikini cut panties, my ben wa balls, a blue tee shirt, and a white cotton bra that had two rubber cups stuck in them perforated with tacks. Once I was naked except for the ben wa balls and the bra, Master Barrett sent me to my toybox where I was instructed to pull out my hemp thong.

Simply put, my hemp thong is exactly what it sounds like. Except that the little piece that is supposed to cover your pussy isn’t there. Oh yeah, and instead the “thong” part is a one inch thick piece of the scratchiest, toughest, most abrasive natural hemp you can buy. It’s attached to a “belt”, which is just another piece of that scratchy tough rope. Putting it on is simple. You tie the “belt” around your waist, letting the “thong” dangle down behind you. Then you reach between your legs, grab the rope, spread your thighs, and pull it up until it’s seated nicely in the crack of your ass. Keeping it taut, you thread the loose end through the front of the “belt” and then pull it tight. It’s smart at this point to use a few fingers to spread your labia as wide apart as possible. Then you tie the loose end to itself, with a clove hitch. This allows you to slide the knot downward and tighten the whole thing so that the crotch rope fits very snuggly in your pussy and ass.

I’ve got mine adjusted so that the knot, when tightened properly, actually sits directly on top of my clit. This effectively creates a little knob that moves slightly when I walk, thus slowly and steadily scratching my clit over and over. It drives me crazy.

So once properly attired, I went back to Master Barrett. He was still having trouble deciding what to do to me for the day, so to pass the time, he directed me to attain two regular sized rubber bands. Well we keep those in the kitchen. Since everyone was still asleep, I risked everything, slipped downstairs, endured the abrasive qualities of my newest undergarments, and then returned to my computer with two thick rubber bands. I had no idea what Master Barrett wanted me to have them for, but I’m pretty obedient. Most of the time at least.

To my astonishment, I was ordered to slip each rubber band over my foot, but to leave each band right in the middle so that the rubber was centered right along my arch. Still curious and totally unprepared for what was coming, I did as I was told. This required me to prop one leg up, which caused the rope to slide through my pussy about half a centimeter. Talk about a turn on.

Then Master Barrett ordered me to grab one side of the rubber band on my left foot, the part next to the arch, pull it out as far as I could, and then let it go. I immediately saw what was coming, but come on, it’s a rubber band!

I was sort of right too. It stung, but not terribly. Maybe a two or three on the pain scale. Certainly not a ten! Master Barrett made me do my other foot. Rinse and repeat. And then, I had to do eleven more. On each foot.

By the fourth snap my feet were starting to hurt. Not just sting, but like “oh my GOD that HURTS!” hurt. By six and seven my toes were curling and I was having trouble pulling the rubber bands all the way out. My pussy was practically pouring juice and each snap had me shaking sexually and in agony all at the same time. In hindsight it was incredible. At the time, I just wanted it to stop. Ten, Eleven, and Twelve felt as if someone had taken a switch and swatted the soles of my feet as hard as they could. I was actually tearing up and my teeth were tightly clenched. When I was done there were actual welts on my soles! Right on the arch!

And I had my assignment. I was to go to the mall, wearing whatever outfit I desired, but with both my tacky bra and the hemp thong on. The ben wa balls were to remain inside me, and around my feet were the rubber bands as a reminder not to cum. I was to find four separate men and allow each of them to fondle and squeeze my breasts. Through the bra. I was to walk the mall too. But I wasn’t allowed to cum. So what if I did? Then I was to find a shoe store guy and ask them to snap the rubber bands on each foot ten times each as punishment.

Right before two I pulled up in my truck. I was scared to death. I had taken off my jeans in favor of a denim skirt. The tight jeans I wore were just making the hemp crotch thong hurt me more. I was wearing a white tee shirt with a very low collar over my bra, and on top of that, a blue button up shirt that I had left semi-open. The tee shirt had been a gift from Kari during my freshman year of college and I hadn’t worn it in a long time. Blazoned across the chest was “Don’t Stare At Them. Touch Them!” Lastly, I was wearing my black high heels. Thank God the rubber bands I had chosen were flesh colored. So ready to go, I got on my cell phone, tweeted what I was doing, and then went in.

Let me tell you that walking around a really large mall while wearing a hemp thong and stuffed with vibroballs makes for really good sexual stimulation. I found my first guy in the sports and outdoors store, and I made my approach. He was about thirty, looking at camping gear, alone, and wearing a ring. He was a little overweight, but not terribly.

I walked up, put on my best million watt please grab my breasts and squeeze them smile and said hello.

I got one back. Sweet.

“Hi. I know this sounds a bit awkward, but I was wondering if you’d grab my breasts and squeeze them as hard as you can. And take your time too,” I said sweetly, arching my back and presenting my breasts. They sort of popped out from beneath my outer shirt, making the words on my tee readily visible.

He looked surprised, glanced around, probably to see if there was a video camera, and then reached out and touched my breasts. Then he squeezed.

AGONY. Thank god I had gone with the rubber pads rather than with duct tape. As it was I felt those pin pricks hard. He squeezed while I went a few shades whiter. My breasts felt heavy as the pain shot up through me, down my arm and then seemed to twirl back around and slide down my spine to my pussy. I let out an involuntary gasp, my fingers tightening as he fucking KNEADED my breasts.

“You got something in there?” he asked. “It don’t feel right.” I nodded, swallowing hard as I fought the tears.

“Tacks,” I gasped out, my face a mask of pain. He blinked in surprise and let go.


I took a shuddering breath and breathed out the word again. “Tacks”. Then I grabbed my collar, pulled it down, and pulled my bra cup out far enough to show him.

Well, the first thing I noticed were the bright red little dots all over my tits. He hissed and took a step back.

“You some sort of freak?” he asked me. I nodded.

“Nympho humiliation pain slut.” I opened my purse and handed him my business card. Then I walked away.

I waited a good ten minutes before even LOOKING for target number two. I had made it a quarter of the way around the mall as well, slowly walking, trying to keep my legs a little wider than usual. But despite everything, the hemp knot was still slowly rubbing back and forth across my clit. I had soaked the rope and that moisture was creeping back and forward on it, making it even more uncomfortable. My pussy had swollen slightly and the labia had literally closed and folded over the rope, so that with every step it moved slightly in and out of the envelope of pussy flesh. It hurt.

My next target was a fifteen year old boy who was eyefucking me as I walked along and when I noticed, I approached him. We exchanged names and Alan willingly followed me into one of the large department warehouse type stores when I told him I had a special favor to ask of him.

You should have seen his face when I told him what I wanted. We were tucked back near the dressing rooms and in seconds he was pawing at my breasts as I gripped a metal clothes rack behind me. Pain shot through my tits again and I gasped, my hips coming forward to bump against the obviously hard rod at the front of his pants. He didn’t notice the pads, instead pushing and pulling and pinching my breasts in rapid squeezes. It wasn’t until I actually cried out, wincing and pulling away that he stopped and asked me if I was all right. I trembled, trying to get my breath, and he lifted my tee shirt and slipped his hands up my stomach and then under my bra before I could object.

“Oww! What the fuck?” he exclaimed, dragging his hands away from my chest. I looked down. One of his knuckles had been torn open and was bleeding. “What the fuck you got in there bitch?” He grabbed my shirt and bra at the collar and pulled them away from my chest enough to look down. His mouth dropped open in surprise and he gave me this quirky glance. “You some sort of pain bitch?” The bra had snapped back against my skin and I could only nod as I struggled to master the sharp pain I was now feeling.

His hand lifted my skirt, without permission of course, but I didn’t stop him. His fingers found the hemp thong, tried squirming under it, but couldn’t. It was too tight. I gasped as I felt his touch on my petals, stroking, petting me, and then he was suddenly snapping his hand against my pussy. I moaned and then he actually grabbed my labia major and pulled on them, pinching me. The other hand found my breasts again and I was shaking. It was too much. I couldn’t help it.

I came. Hard.

After the orgasm subsided he gave me this look. “You are one crazy bitch,” he said. I shook my head, trembling still from the flood of pleasure that had rocked through me.

“I wasn’t supposed to cum. I wasn’t allowed to!” I said, glancing around. We still hadn’t attracted any attention.

“So what happens if you cum?” he asked. I swallowed, remembering how much my feet had hurt that morning.

I pointed at my foot. “See the rubber band? I’m supposed to find someone to snap each rubber band ten times as punishment.”

He looked down. “Lift your foot up here,” he ordered.

I shook my head and hissed. “No. Not here! I can’t stay quiet enough!” I sort half whispered. His eyes narrowed and then he had my hand, pulling me rapidly through the store. We exited the mall and were suddenly outside in the cold. My clothing wasn’t quite appropriate, but I wasn’t freezing, and he pulled me around the outside of the building until he found a loading dock. He swung me around and the next thing I knew my chest was pressed up against a concrete and brick wall. My breasts hurt.

“Foot, bitch,” I heard. I bent over slightly and unbuckled my left shoe. It took a moment and while he waited his hand went under my skirt again. Finally I got it off and bent my knee, lifting my foot up behind me until my heel touched my ass.

He grabbed my heel, twisting and turning around until my foot was wedged between his left arm and side. I had no leverage. My body was pressed against the wall and I was using my hands to keep from having my tits perforated for the umpteenth time. I felt his fingers against my arch, touching the sole of my foot and then the rubber band stretched.

The snap and the pain were almost simultaneous. I jerked but he held me firm and I let out a little cry. It was much worse than the morning rubber band snaps. He pulled the band all the way out and let it smack my foot again. Pain exploded in my foot, like someone driving an ice pick right up into the sensitive part, or like stepping on a nail. And then he did it again. And again. I squirmed and started to fight him. It hurt too much and he pushed his weight against me, trapping me against the wall. Now my breasts WERE being mashed in my bra, the tacks pricking me like I had walked into a cactus.

I’m not sure how I made it through ten snaps of the rubber band. But he let go of my foot and I was crying. He ran his hand over my ass, pushing my cheeks around before giving me a sharp spank.

“Get your other shoe off bitch.” It was punctuated by a second rather harsh spank. It hurt to put my left foot down on the ground but I did, staying up on tip toe. The pain and sting had started to turn to heat, but I was scared to look at the welt I knew was surely visible. I lifted my right foot, unbuckled the shoe, dropped my high heel, and was quickly trapped in almost the exact same position as before, except this time my leg and foot was on his other side. He didn’t mince words either, he pressed against me hard this time from the start, expecting me to fight him. Then I felt his fingers on my foot.

I have never experienced bastinado. Oh sure, I know what it is. You take a pretty nympho humiliation pain slut, tie her up with her bare feet up in the air, and then take a cane and whip it against the bottoms of her feet. You’re supposed to concentrate on the arch, that delicate soft spot between the heel and the balls. But having never been whipped on the soles of my feet, I can honestly tell you that I had no idea just how bad… and how much of a turn on… having those rubber bands snapped on my arches were.

I twisted my foot in his grasp as the band snapped. One, two, three, and by four I was crying out. My hips had started to jerk and I found myself ripening despite the pain. Or maybe I should say BECAUSE of it. I’m not sure. It was just so… intense. It hurt so much… and yet it was so erotic. I guess I just found a new erogenous zone. Damn. I know what everyone’s going to focus on for the next few months. Geeze. If you see me walking around limping, you’ll know I just had an orgasm. Sigh…

I had my second orgasm before we finished the snapping of the rubber bands, but Alan didn’t know that. I had been sort of crying, moaning, yelping, sobbing through the whole thing so when my pain induced orgasm hit, he didn’t notice. I think this was a good thing. Had he noticed, he might have started the whole snapping thing a second time and my poor feet were in no condition to have a second torture done to them so quickly.

Then he let my foot go. I sagged against the wall but he spun me around. The world whirled by and then I was being pushed to my knees. He unbuckled his pants even as I was still trying to calm down and then there was a rather short unimpressive cock in my face, pushing into my mouth. I opened wide and sucked on him, more from instinct that active thought and it wasn’t until I was deep throating him did I realize that technically we were out in the open, in 63 degree weather, in a fucking loading dock. This was NOT good.

So I did my best to make him cum. It worked too. In like three minutes he was unloading some rather grimy unsavory cum into my mouth. I spit it out when his eyes were closed and he was pumping the last bits toward my face. I got it on the cheek. My knees were starting to hurt, actually dimming the heat in my soles.

When he was finished, I wiped my face and then stood up. He smirked at me, zipped everything up and then grinned. I took another few seconds, then straightened. I buckled my shoes back on.

“I’ll bet you’re a good fuck. You wanna come to my place tonight?” he asked me. I declined, explaining I had other commitments. He got angry and made some rather pointed comments about me being a tease and such. So I got my pepper spray out of my purse and threatened to hose him. Wow. You should have seen him back off. It was pretty cool. I told him to take a hike and after he left I sagged against the wall, spent a few moments doing some deep breathing and considered my situation.

First of all, I still had two more groping sessions to do. I mentally made a note not to ask any teenie bopper wanna be gang bangers again. Then there was the issue of the second orgasm. Did I need to endure another round of rubber band snapping? I spotted an emergency exit door leading into the loading dock and I quickly entered back into the mall through the hallway. It was a convoluted corridor, but it eventually let me back into the main mall. I was moving rather slowly thanks to a combination of sore feet and abraded pussy.

It was getting close to three thirty by this time and I started looking around for another groper. I found the perfect candidate: an overweight thirty something probably virgin, who would treat my tender breasts with loving care. He was in the book store, ostensibly looking at cookbooks when I approached him.

My spiel was little different this time than from my first and the surprised look on the guy’s face was certainly enough to make me smile. I arched my back, trying to bury all the little pains and hurts I was still sifting through as I presented my breasts to him. We were behind a pretty decent shelving unit, and after a quick look around he reached up, grabbed hold of both breasts, and squeezed.

It was very uncomfortable. It hurt. Pins stuck me. Nails penetrated me. It was like having little darts fired at my tits. His eyes narrowed almost instantly as I whimpered and he asked what was wrong and if he had hurt me.

I was honest. “Yes, you’re hurting me. That’s the point.” I told him. “My bra is filled with tacks.”

“What? Are you kidding me? I don’t want to hurt you!” He protested. I pulled my collar down and tugged the bra away from my skin. My breasts were flushed red now, with multiple penetration spots all over them. It looked like I had been caught in a sandblaster that had a few tiny pebbles mixed in.

He refused to touch me after that, but I felt that my third groping had gone okay so I moved on. My fourth target took a little longer to find, and I ended up walking almost the entire mall before I located a dark haired twenty something guy who seemed very business like. I approached him quietly, demurely, sort of from the side. It wasn’t much longer before the two of us were in the back of one of the many clothing stores with me trying very hard to stifle my whimpering.

But I managed. My breasts felt as if they had been whipped raw and little pin points of pain seemed to fire occasionally from my chest. Thus with almost all of the assignment satisfied, I went looking for the last little bit.

I found the shoe store I was looking for. I had passed it earlier and noted a bored looking young man working the counter. Lucky for me, it was empty, and I stepped into the store with my clit overly sensitive, my pussy and ass raw, and the arches of my feet welted and just a bit sore. He greeted me and I practically fell into the available chair.

“Can I help you?” he asked, looking down at my feet. I gave him a worn smile and nodded.

“Can you check my size?” I asked.

He grinned and grabbed that metal thingy they use to measure feet and came down to kneel right in front of me. I started to bend over in my chair to unbuckle my shoes, but he grabbed my foot and did it for me. His thumb traced over the rubber bands, but he didn’t say anything. Barefoot, I let my fingers grab hold of my skirt as he positioned my toes in the measuring device and I began pulling the material up. I spread my legs wide enough to give him a really clear view of what was under my skirt and I knew it when he saw it. His eyes widened in surprise and he glanced up at me.

I leaned over, fire smoldering in my eyes. “I’m a naughty girl.”

Now I happen to be a master (or mistress I should say) of the “sultry” voice. Sure, my million watt please fuck me smiles are awesome. But my sultry voice is pretty good. So when I said “I’m a naughty girl”, please understand that it was said in this low tone, with lots of deep meaning behind it.

He swallowed. “I can see that.”

“I’ve been bad.” I whispered, fluttering my eyelashes, and not in a little girl way either.

He chuckled. “I’ve no doubt.”

“I’ve earned a punishment,” I said, finally leaning over. My fingers caressed his cheek and then went down the side of his neck. “Those rubber bands? You have to snap them. Ten times. Each. Against my arch. Make it hurt.” My hand went down to his chest as I scooted forward in the chair. “And then I can suck your cock…”

Wow. Did THAT get his attention. He looked up at me, then down at my feet, and then back up at me. I pushed my chest outward and pulled my skirt up even farther. I rolled my hips, which dragged the rope through my crotch. I was soaked again.

He picked up my left foot, holding it by the heel. I felt his fingers against my arch and he snagged the rubber band.

I was able to keep quiet for the first two snaps on each foot. But the third set had me hissing. The fifth set managed to elicit a whimper. The seventh had me crying out, quietly of course. The eighth hurt enough for me to grimace and arch my back, even jerking my foot from his grasp. My hips were rolling, shaking, and I felt like someone had taken a sharp knife and drawn it across my feet. By ten I was crying, real tears and I pulled my feet away, my toes curled as the pain washed over me. It took me a minute or two to recover enough to remember my promise. I looked down at the shoeclerk and then took a deep breath.

“Do you have some place private?” I asked.

He nodded and took my hand, pulling me up. Agony lanced up from my feet and I snagged my high heels in one hand as I limped along behind him. We went through a small door at the back of the store into what appeared to be a storage room. It smelled of leather and cardboard.

It was a bare floor, but going to my knees was a relief. I unzipped him and he let me do it all, from getting his cock out to putting it in my mouth. And I sucked and sucked and rubbed and licked and then I swallowed.

I walked out of there under my own power, but it took me a while and the whole time my clit was being constantly tortured by the knot slipping with every step. It was almost enough to make me cum again. But the thought of stopping and letting another person snap those rubber bands against the soles of my feet was just too much.

I’m sorry I’m posting this so late. It was a tough day, especially since I’m still wearing the bra full of tacks. Won’t be able to tomorrow. My breasts look like… well… not to appealing at this point. Imagine a pork chop being hit with a spiked meat tenderizer. I’ve also spent a good portion of today...

Oh…. I shouldn’t say, should I?

Cause that’s tomorrow’s tale.

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