Panties and Butterflies
The very first time I ever went commando was during my sophomore year of high school, that fall, when I was fifteen years old. My friendship with Kari had taken a radical turn that summer and I was now four months into what would become four years of what amounted to sexual slavery to a girl who had watched enough BDSM porn films to have a pretty firm grasp of what to do, how to do it, and just what was the best way to make me scream in orgasmic ecstasy. Kari had gotten her first car that year and rather than us both riding the bus to school, Kari made it a point to stop by and pick me up. My parents didn't seem to mind. Kari always seemed very responsible and polite to them. They had no idea (and still don't) that on the weekends that mild mannered blond girl was whipping their daughter's pussy with a belt.
I was dressed in blue jeans and a tee shirt, which was pretty common school attire for me. Remember, I live out in the boonies, so most of the kids that went to my school were pretty much the same as me. Sure, we had a smattering of suburbanite kids, but most lived on farms and ranches. After I got in the car Kari handed me a plastic shopping bag.
"Put those on," she ordered.
I looked at her in surprise. All of our games had been either at her place or out in a field somewhere. I opened the bag and found a blue and white plaid skirt, a white blouse, white knee high socks, and a pair of black pumps. No bra or panties. I objected of course. All I got was that look from her and my objections died in my throat.
"Where do you want me to change?" I asked.
"Right here. Right now," she said.
We were still on a back road with ten minutes to go before getting to the school. I swallowed. I'd never ever been naked out in public before. And while there wasn't much traffic, there was still a risk. I didn't understand about window tinting back then.
"I'd hurry if I were you, or you'll end up being naked while we're in the school parking log."
Well that certainly motivated me. I tugged off my boots and socks, then pushed my jeans down and off my ankles. I picked the skirt out of the bag but Kari stopped me. "No. Strip first. All of it."
I looked at her, more surprised than concerned, but then nodded. My tee shirt came next and I sat there in my undies for a moment before reaching for the bag again.
"What part of 'all of it' do you not understand?" Kari suddenly demanded. I looked at her in astonishment.
"What? I can't wear my bra or panties?" I asked, shocked. The idea of going commando had never ever occurred to me. I'd worn panties every day of my life from the moment I stopped wearing diapers!
She nodded. "That's right. So get them off and then you can put on the skirt and blouse."
Trembling, I stripped. It was also my first time naked in a car I might add, though I've done that often enough since. My skin tingled and I shivered, my skin rising in goose bumps more from being exposed than from any temperature oddity. I grabbed the blouse first and immediately put it on. It was a typical school girl blouse, buttoned up the front, and just a tad bit too thin. The tips of my breasts made two point little dots on the front. The skirt immediately followed. I felt a bit better covered up, but I realized that the skirt was a bit too short for school standards, and I'd be lucky not to be sent home to change. I commented on that to Kari and she laughed.
"If that happens just come out here to the car and get your clothes. Change in the parking lot and go back to school."
Oh. Yeah. Simple. Right.
I slipped my feet into the knee highs and then put on the pumps. I looked like a slut. Kari loved it though and reached over to my lap. She pushed my legs apart, slipped her hand under my skirt, and then touched my clit. I jumped, but then moaned as her fingers tweaked and pinched me lightly, playing with me until I was very wet. We were almost at the school when she extracted her hand, wiped it on my thigh smearing my own juices on my skin, and then reached down to her purse and extracted two golf balls.
Yes. Real golf balls.
Then she told me to put them in my pussy.
At this point I had fucked a number of inanimate objects. Cucumbers, carrots, squash, a number of dildos and vibrators, a hair brush handle, a spatula, a number of other long cock like things... but I'd never had golf balls inside me. Curious, terribly turned on, and very wet, I ran the first ball through my labia, wetting it. Then I pushed. It went in easy. The second ball followed and I felt a very strange sensation inside me. In hind sight, they weren't very stimulating, at least from a physical perspective. But they were terribly exciting for a 15 year old girl who had never had anything like it up inside her. Those golf balls might well have been my vibroballs on steroids. I was practically shaking by the time we pulled up into the parking lot.
The combination of no bra or panties I think was what did it though. I was scared to get out of the car, but Kari ordered me to follow and I felt the cool morning air on my pussy, made even more sensitive from the golf balls rolling around inside me. I couldn't help squeezing them over and over, and almost felt one fall out due to my actions. I stopped pulsing as best I could. I followed Kari inside the school and felt a million eyes on me. Now in comparison, I'm no where near as pretty as Kari. She's blond. I'm a brunette. She's perfectly shaped. I'm more willowy. She's five foot seven. I'm a measly five two. Even today, she has these magnificent 36c breasts while I'm relegated to 36b cups. It's enough to drive a girl crazy. Add to that perfect skin, where I've got more than my fair share of freckles (though thank god not on my face) and she's a bomb shell and I'm plain Jane.
Not that day. I was attracting way more attention than my companion. My shirt was almost but not quite, see thru. My nipples were hard little bumps pressing up against the thin cotton. My skirt flared and I felt breezes on parts of me that had never been exposed to them, making it even harder for me to concentrate. And then there were the two little golf balls inside me, rolling around, stimulating me, constantly at risk of falling out. It was a lot for a fifteen year old girl to bear.
That was the FIRST time I've gone without panties, and every time I do it now it still reminds me of that very first day. How I felt. How I came. How I flushed crimson while walking from English to Biology, my pussy pulsing, when one of the golf balls fell out, clattering on the tile floor, leaving little wet marks in a trail as it bounced and rolled.
This morning, after I posted yesterday's assignment results, I dealt with the new daily task. Master Barrett instructed me to wear my ben wa balls and butterfly clitoral stimulator for the day, sans panties of course. But that wasn't all. If I wanted to cum, then I had to do it hands free, with my butterfly on maximum, and I had to have four orgasms in a row before turning it off. Do you understand that? Do you have any idea what that means to a girl? Especially a sensitive one like me? Sure, I've handled long term vibrations before. But it's the sort of thing that can drive you batty. I've literally lost awareness of where I was, or how I got there, or what the hell was happening after being tied down, spread open, and having my clit stimulated on high for extended period of time. The closest thing I can compare it too for you guys is milking, except with me concentrating just on your tip for your second, third, and fourth orgasms. It would HURT.
There was one other caveat. I had to have three complete sessions during the day. That meant spontaneity was out. I couldn't just go on and do it when I was horny. I had to actually plan for time to masturbate, uh... or endure... depending on your point of view.
IT was after breakfast when I headed out to the barn for my first session. The cold air swirled up under the long skirt that was wrapped around my waist. It came all the way down to mid-calf and the rest of my leg and feet were socked and tucked into my boots. I was wearing a button up blue shirt, bra, and of course, my duster. Underneath the skirt the only thing visible that I was wearing was the butterfly clitoral vibrator, strapped to me with black lines that fit around my waist and thighs, holding that small purple plastic toy directly against my clit. Inside me the ben wa balls rolled and moved, keeping me sexually aroused, but never bringing me over the edge. It had been a long time since just wearing the ben wa balls had sent me tumbling into orgasmic ecstasy. I pulled my skirt up to my waist, exposing my glistening petals to the cold air even more, and thumbed the small switch on the butterfly to its maximum position.
I gasped almost immediately. It had been awhile since I orgasmed, in fact, it had been since yesterday morning, right there on that very hay bale. I dropped my skirt and just stood there for a moment, trying to deal with the intense sensation. There's no way for a guy to understand what I was feeling. A woman's clitoris is this tightly packed bundle of nerves in a very small space and direct stimulation is very intense. Guys just can't handle that sort of pinpoint stimulation. The closest thing I can think of is when a guy is super hard, rock hard, coated with oil, straining, and all I do is rub the tip of his cock. Oh. And he has to be tied down too. Just the tip mind you. The head. Especially around the ridge. Over and over, circular strokes. Never down the length. I think after a few minutes most guys would be gritting their teeth. It feels painful and good and is too much all at the same time.
And girl's go through it a lot. But then again, we're stronger than guys.
So I walked the barn. Back and forth. In ten minutes I was getting really close. At around fourteen I put my head on the wall, tried to take deep breaths, and held onto a bracket with all my strength as my body shook with release. I trembled as the orgasm rocked me, then slowly faded, only to be replaced almost immediately by another wave rising toward shore, threatening to swamp me again. That wave took another five or six minutes, smashing me into the wall and flooding my brain with endorphins. I weaved my way back over to the hay bale, sat down, spread my legs as wide as possible, and humped absolutely nothing. I just needed to move my hips. It was grotesque. I pulled up my skirt. The air touched my pussy, and it felt incredible. My exposure and the cold air sent me into another mind-numbing explosion. My clit was beginning to hurt, tender, sore, over-sensitized. I wanted desperately to either plunge my fingers into my pussy or turn off the clitoral vibrator, or both. I struggled with the desires but as the next wave approached I grabbed a small piece of rope hanging on a nail and swung it hard so that the end landed across my ass. It stung, but it got my mind off of being bad and using my fingers. I had to swing again. And again. And then the sharp stinging on my rear was complimented by an overwhelming tsunami of pleasure as my fourth orgasm reared up, threatened to drown me, and the crashed over me and through me and in me until I was swimming in a sea of warmth and relaxation, especially when I turned the butterfly off.
With the butterfly silent I was able to regain control of my libido and handle the gentle stimulation of the ben wa balls. My pussy was sated, soaked, swollen, and just a little sensitive. But that was okay. I got myself cleaned up, kept the ben wa balls in my pussy and the butterfly on my clit, and went about my business. That meant a few more chores and then lunch. After lunch however I headed back outside, got in my truck, and drove out to the mall.
Don't worry. I had no intention of doing a "When Harry Met Sally" scene. I stayed in the parking lot. Sitting behind the wheel of my truck I pulled my skirt up, turned the butterfly to high, and endured. My first orgasm, or technically my fifth, depending on your point of few, came pretty quick. I was still tender, still turned on. This time however my clit began that strange sort of hurt that feels good almost immediately after my first orgasm of the second set and I found myself getting out of the truck, walking up and down the aisles of the parking lot in my duster, trying to help things along by working the ben wa balls.
And I came again. Leaning up against someone's car. It was a tough orgasm too. It rocked me, almost made me swoon. It felt as if someone was stroking just my clit, alternating each caress between a pin cushion and a piece of sandpaper. The fact that it was my clit was driving me sexually crazy, but the nature of the caress, the nonstop vibrational torture, was almost more than I could bear. By the time I was back at my truck, I was ready to pop again for the third time, but was having trouble getting over the edge. The urge to touch myself, to work my clit, was so tough to deal with. I leaned against the truck. And then, I pressed my hips forward. The movement forced the butterfly tighter against my clit, changing the nature of the vibrations and I began humping my truck. The change of pressure was just what I needed and I stood here thrusting, bumping, grinding the butterfly against my poor pussy with the truck door, which in hindsight was probably as wild and sexy as hell. My third orgasm smashed through me.
Almost sobbing I climbed back up into the truck and just sat there, trying to gain something along the lines of control. My pussy burned. My hips rolled. My muscles kept contracting. My clit felt as if someone were rubbing it with a dry sponge. I grit my teeth, trying to withstand the pseudo-pain coming up from between my legs. Worse, the sensation just made me want more. The urge to touch myself was so hard, so strong. It was almost impossible to ignore. My hips wouldn’t stop moving. For a fleeting moment I thought about driving off somewhere, but I realized instantly that it would be courting death. My hands were trembling almost as much as my loins and I was having trouble concentrating.
So I sat there. Enduring. Minutes ticked by and my clit just … I’m not even sure what word to use to describe what I was feeling. Burned isn’t quite right. Ached isn’t intense enough. Hurt doesn’t encompass the sexual need I felt. Agony is too much. Have you ever wanted sex so bad it hurt? I just can’t describe it.
Then my will broke. My hand went down between my legs. I ripped open my jeans, jammed a hand down between my legs, mashed the butterfly against my clit, and rubbed it back and forth frantically. It was all I needed. I came in seconds. And it was a disappointing orgasm. It was fast and strong and over all too quickly.
Before I removed my fingers I turned off the butterfly and slumped in my seat. The truck cab smelled like sex. It reeked of it. I just stayed like that for about ten minutes before I finally had the energy to zip back up, start the truck, and head back for home.
And all I could think was “Oh…Master Barrett isn’t going to like this.”
I managed to recover over the next three or four hours and dinner did a lot to replenish my strength. Afterward I escaped back out to the barn. To be honest, I wasn’t terribly horny. In fact, I could have actually just showered and gone to bed. But Master Barrett specified three rounds, and NHPS Rule #3 states that a NHPS may not refuse to perform a sexual act that is not within her limits.
So as soon as I got out to the barn, I unsnapped my denim skirt, stuck my fingers down there, and turned on the butterfly. Four hours of rest had only partially restored my clit to previous levels of sensitivity. So it wasn’t long before the tingling changed dramatically and I paced back and forth. I even did a few jumping jacks. My first orgasm rolled around (or was it my ninth?) and I sighed in relief.
Followed immediately by the same sort of spasms and moans and hip rolling that had happened each time I left the butterfly on. The next orgasm was more of a wave than a wrecking ball, and I shook as it washed through me. By the time I approached my third (or eleventh) for the evening, all I could think about was turning the butterfly off. I had stopped moving around and was just standing there.
It was cold outside by this time, not as cold as that morning, but chilly, and the day hadn’t gotten over seventy five. As I tried to keep my hands away from my clit I began unbuttoning my shirt. I didn’t take it off, but I pulled up my bra, exposing my nipples to the cool air. They immediately puckered into hard little bumps and as my pussy screamed in torment, I stepped right up to the tractor. It had not been used in several days and I knew that it would be cold. So I leaned up against it and placed just the tips of my breasts on the cold steel.
And it was enough. My hips thumped against the front wheel as I humped the tractor. My breasts felt as if I had applied ice to them. I screamed out my orgasm and shuddered and shook and about fell over. This orgasm wasn’t a wave. It was an ice pick being rammed into me, specifically my clit, over and over, non-stop. I finally fell to the ground and laid there shuddering as my fingers went into my skirt and stopped it.
It took awhile to recover, but I managed. Got myself dusted off. Went back into the house, stripped, took a shower, inspected the damage. My clit looked like raw meat. (Yuck. I know, right?) It was incredibly red, very raw, sore and sensitive to the touch, and I showered gingerly when cleaning down there. Then I said good night to my family, took care of a few minor issues, then sat down at my computer and started writing.
This morning I had a full extra hour, and I only slept my usual eight, so at four this morning I woke up, turned on the computer, and read Master Barrett’s email.
OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG.
Breanne - Yesterday you cheated so today you will be redoing the assignment with an added extra. Before you turn the butterfly on you are to place an alligator clip on each of your nipples and on your clit (under the butterfly of course) these are to remain on until you have had all 4 orgasms. You are also to complete an extra set today so 16 orgasms in total. You aren't allowed to wear underwear again and I think you should also wear a skirt (as short as possible). Also wear the vibroballs today turned off of course, yes even when you turn the butterfly on they are to remain off.
I don’t know if I can do this. I’m still to tender. Still to sore. It’s too cold out to wear a short short skirt! How will I find the time to do four? The alligator clamps hurt so much! To wear them so long! It took me over an hour usually to do four orgasms. How could he?
I know what Master Barrett would say to me this morning. Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule #2 states that a NHPS must be able and ready to endure a painful punishment/torture at any time, for any one, for any reason.
I’m about to go freeze my ass off. I’m wearing tube socks and boots, my black short short skirt, the one that used to be a pair of skorts until Kari cut the shorts part out of it. I’m wearing a halter top as well. No bra or panties, but my butterfly vibrator is strapped on. I’ve got my duster, but I’m still going to be cold. In my right pocket I have a pair of small alligator clamps connected with a lightweight chain. There is also a larger alligator clamp, metal toothed, waiting for my clit. The note to my parents is on the kitchen table. I’m going over to Kari’s this morning after I get the chores done.
Which I’ll do right after I suffer through four more orgasms. I’m turning on the butterfly now. That doesn’t feel too bad. I thought my clit would hurt more, but it just feels good. Now for the clamps. Left nipple first. Ow. Theese things hurt. Butt itss a good sosrt of hurt. RRight sside next. I haave tot admit thhat these things sare charging me up. CCan sort fo feel the first orgasm cumming. Justt one more clamps to go. You knww where right? Yeaha, under the butterfly.