I have spent the last two and a half days writing. I’m actually getting good at it. Sort of. Michael still takes me to task for a few things, especially for making up words. Evidently there is no such thing as the verb “orgasm-ing” Well damn, there should be. I spend a lot (oops… another no no. No “alots”) of time “orgasm-ing”. I’ll just add it to the dictionary.
Sunday I went to Kari’s Super Bowl Party. If you haven’t read about that, you should. It was a wild party. Even though I had to be the Steelers’ Cheerleader, my favorite team won anyway. I got spanked for it though. But hey, you can read about it yourself.
So what’s this about? Simple. I didn’t cum. Last week. One day. Which brings us to what happened on Monday, the day AFTER the Super Bowl Party.
Monday afternoon I hopped in my truck. I was ostensibly heading out to run a few errands and had told my mom I'd be out for a couple of hours. That part was true. What wasn't so true is that I wouldn't really be running errands. I had a more sexually devious purpose in mind. Lately, I've had things flipped on me from Master Barrett, who felt that my continual efforts NOT to cum, should be rewarded by what I really wanted: sexual torture. He decided that if I came, I didn't get what I really wanted. This sort of sucks for me, since half of his little "toy of the day" orders make it practically impossible for me NOT to cum. Seriously, when you have a nine inch rubber cock inside you, with clamps and weights on your nipples, while riding a bouncing jouncy tractor while plowing fields, how can you NOT cum?
But on Friday of last week I managed. The toy of the day was my chastity belt and I was instructed to keep one vibrator on at all times, on low of course. This meant I had three choices. I could keep the clitoral vibe on, which would have had me cumming in minutes. I could keep the vaginal vibe on, which would have had me cumming in an hour or two. Or I could keep the anal plug humming which I could stand all frickin’ day. Guess which one I did?
So in the end I was free and clear and Master Barrett told me my reward.
I was to strip naked. Get out the alligator clamps (all three), Stinging O, bottom plug, and vibroballs. Apply the Stinging O to the vibroballs, plug, my clit, and my nipples. Insert the plug, then the vibroballs. Turn the vibroballs on low. Attach the alligator clamps to my nipples, then clit. Once I was clamped, I was to flick the jumbo clit clamp until I orgasmed. Then I was to remove the clamps, reapply the Stinging O and clamps, then attempt to cum again by flicking my clit. After the second orgasm I was to again remove the clamps, reapply the Stinging O and turn the vibroballs to medium. I was then to reapply the clamps and flick my clit until I orgasmed. After the third orgasm I was to remove the clamps, reapply the Stinging O and keep the vibroballs on medium. After my fourth orgasm I was to remove the clamps, reapply the Stinging O, reapply the clamps and turn the vibroballs to maximum. I was to then flick my clit until I came the fifth time. No breaks between "sessions" and I was to remain naked the whole time.
I complained of course. A punishment like this would take hours. And with no control over the vibroballs, and not being allowed to stimulate myself with anything other than little flicks, it meant spending a lot of time naked, legs spread, flicking my clit over and over. Non-stop. Ouch, right? There was just one variable I did have control over: the where.
A lot of spots occurred to me: my bedroom (family too close), Kari's place (price to high, plus she'd probably want to help), the barn (to uncomfortable)...
and I finally made my decision.
I pulled over to the side of the road. Since the temperature had risen back up almost to the sixties I felt comfortable doing my usual thing at the front of the truck. Once more at the grill, I slowly unbuttoned my shirt, removed it, folded it, and set in on the hood. My bra came next. I kicked off my boots, then tugged my jeans all the way down. I then followed with panties, folding them and putting them on the hood as well. I was in the process of picking it all up when I heard the car.
This farm to market road isn't well traveled. In fact, I rarely see a vehicle. So the odds of me being interrupted during my stripping procedure is pretty slim. Since I was literally buck naked except for my socks, and my duster was inside the cab, there wasn't anything to do. I bent down and took off my socks, trying to hide behind the grill. It only sort of worked. By the time I had my socks off the car had whizzed past me. I turned to follow it with my eyes and watched as the brake lights came on. With socks in hand, I gathered up my clothes and quickly moved to the cab. I climbed in, just as I thought the car was going to start backing up. I hope they got an eyeful.
I pulled on my duster and buttoned one or two of the buttons. Just enough to keep my boobs from being completely on display as I was driving. Then I took off down the road. It was about a fifteen, twenty minute drive for me and finally I pulled into the spot I wanted to be. It was a large parking lot and my truck was backed up to the very edge, right by a tree line, and I could see the whole place. Even better though, one of the major entrance/exits to the lot went right past my truck. Granted, it wasn't the ONLY one, but it was busy enough. I looked out over the busy lot with all sorts of shoppers coming and going. Then, calmly, rationally, purposefully, I unbuttoned my duster and shrugged out of it. So there I was, sitting bare ass naked in the parking lot. Within twenty seconds a car drove right past my truck. The driver never even looked.
I reached over to my small bag and extracted the few items I was going to need. The first item was the bottom plug. I also pulled out my Stinging O. A thin coating of cream turned the plug a pleasant whitish color and I lifted up my ass and tilted to the side. Almost instantly I felt the tingling coolness of the lubricant. It was tough to get in. Bottom Plugs are usually hard to get in yourself, especially big ones like this. Finally I took the expedient of cramming the thing between my rear end and the seat. Then using the steering wheel to get a good grip, I straightened up above it and then just relaxed. Slowly I sank on to the plug and gasped loudly as it went in. I hate anal plugs. I hate having things up my ass. The ass is an EXIT, not an entrance. It always feels so weird to have something up in my butt. I made the most of it though. Did my best to open up and accept the huge four inch plug.
Next was the vibroballs. I pulled these out of my pussy, dried them off on one of my socks, and then held them in my hand. These too received their own coating of Stinging O, which was already puckering my rear end around the plug. Since I was already wet because I had actually pulled them out in order to lube them, they went back in rather easily. My pussy quivered in chemically induced trembles as the Stinging O tormented the lining of my sex. I turned the remote up to low and then did the next step. I grabbed the bottle of Stinging O and coated my clit and my nipples. Another car drove past, the driver ignoring me. Of course, I'm pretty sure that not even my breasts were visible, but each time I was approached, my stomach tightened in nervous expectation. What if they DID see me? With my nipples now standing out in hard little bumps I grabbed the alligator clamps. Each one was rather small, no longer than two inches, and both were connected to the ends of the same chain. Carefully I pinched the clamps open and centered my still cooling and heating nubs right in the center of the notched toothed jaws. As I let the clamps close pain blossomed and surged down to my pussy in waves that seemed influenced by the throbbing of my nipples. I hissed, now trembling in sexual arousal and agony, a strange mixture that made each sensation much more powerful and charged.
Lastly, I reached for the jumbo alligator clamp. I had picked it up from a hardware store and blunted the teeth slightly. They were still pointed but now only left red marks instead of actually cutting into me. I pinched it open, set it above and around my clit, and waited for another car to drive by. It wasn't long, maybe thirty or forty seconds and then a gray coupe drove toward my truck. I trembled. I waited until I could see the other driver's face before I let the clamp close on my clit. I actually cried out as the pain surged through me. Oh GOD it hurt. I shook, my hands clenching the driver's wheel. My legs were obscenely spread as well, the heel of my left foot banging on the truck door and my other leg draped across the center column into the other seat's leg well.
Photo Courtesy of Errotica-archives.com
Then I started flicking. Now you need to understand what Master Barrett means by "flick". This isn't just simply a swipe of the hand making the clamp on my clit wiggle. No. This is a FLICK. Take your middle finger and curl it so that it's touching your thumb. Now press up with your thumb so that there is pressure on your middle finger. Now try to push your middle finger past your thumb. When your thumb finally bends down enough you'll feel this surge of energy flow from the middle finger knuckle down and out. Now imagine that middle finger, flicked hard, impacting a piece of metal, that is attached to my clit. It flops with the impact, twisting and turning and biting into me. Imagine me making short sharp cries with each flick. Now imagine that when you finally get to around fifty or so, I cum.
That whole first orgasmic session, my brain was on autopilot. I watched approaching cars, timing my impacts as they came closer, with harder and more frequent flicks causing my hips to jerk and my pussy to tighten around the buzzing vibroballs. My thighs burned and ached as I spread my legs wider. My nipples burned in agony from the alligator clamps attached there. My nerves overloaded and then one flick finally did it. I yelped loudly, both hands going to my sex, my head thrown back, every tendon in my body tightening. I came in this wave of pain and exposure and embarrassment.
When I finally recovered my wits, I opened my eyes to see a car stopped in front of my truck. There was a guy in there that was looking at me. I guess I looked like I was unconscious or something. I waved and he nodded and then drove off. Thank God. I was worried he was about to get out and check on me.
I reached up to my nipples. Bracing myself as best as I could, I squeezed both evil clamps open and let out another cry as the blood rushed back into my crushed nubs. I could see the little red marks of the alligator teeth on my nipples and I whimpered loudly to myself as I set the clamps on the seat next to me. Then I reached between my legs. My clit was throbbing and was still hurting quite a bit, so I WANTED the clamp off my clit. I squeezed it open, experiencing another rush of exquisite pain that was almost immediately converted into pussy juice. I hissed, closed my eyes, rolled to the side slightly, and then put down the clamp. A few deep breaths later I pulled out the Stinging O and squeezed some of that white gunk onto a finger. Delicately as possible, I began rubbing it into my abused nipples. Then once my breasts were on fire a second time, I grabbed the nipple clamps, repositioned them, and let them bite down.
It was all I could do not to scream.
Trembling from the pain and the building need in my pussy (remember the vibroballs were still on), I applied a dollop of Stinging O to my clit. That tender bundle of nerves did NOT appreciate the chemical application. But then I added insult to injury when I grabbed the jumbo alligator clamp and let it chew on my clitoris for a second time. Watching a line of cars drive past, I began flicking.
This time I day dreamed. Flick. I thought about the Super Bowl Party and getting whipped at the end. Flick, Flick, Flick. I thought about the upcoming assignment for Mistress Ellen, and spending the day being trained and then screwed by dogs. Flick, Flick, Flick, Flick. I day dreamed about being lifted off of Kari's wooden horse, made to spread my legs, while Kari whipped me on the pussy before setting me back down for more torture. Flick, Flick, Flick, Flick. I remembered some of my days in college where I'd be walking along wearing high heel sandals, a super short flared skirt that barely covered my ass, and one of Kari's "sexy" tee shirts, announcing that I had "3 Holes To Fill". Flick, Flick, Flick, Flick. I remembered and relived that first day when we got our apartment and Kari stripped me naked and explained the new rules: that I had to be exposed and available at all times. Flick, Flick, Flick, Flick.
And I came a second time.
Once more I removed the alligator clamps from my nipples and clit. It was pure agony. I rolled, gasping for breath, my eyes squeezed shut, literally falling over in the seat. When I could sit upright again, I grabbed the bottle of Stinging O, daubed the lotion on my nipples and clit, whimpering through every cold tingly moment. Then I put the alligator clamps back on my breasts, followed by the horrible metal teeth on my clit.
Flick Flick Flick. There was a car in front of me. Flick, Flick, Flick. I remembered Kari and me standing in a field with Gary Johnson, me bent over, my jeans and panties around my ankles while Kari whipped my ass with a willow switch and I tried not to bite Gary's cock, which was in my mouth. Flick, Flick, Flick, Flick. Then I was walking that rope across my barn, icy hot and Tabasco sauce soaking alternating knots as I slowly sawed myself in half as I shuffled along the overly taut rope. Flick Flick Flick Flick. I suddenly wondered how Mistress Sara was going to cane my feet, ass, AND breasts, if I was tied up on a bench. Flick Flick Flick Flick. Then it was a hot summer's day at the Kemah Boardwalk, me in a bikini top and loose skirt, sans panties of course, with Kari, who had just purchased a push up pop. We were sitting on a bench and she calmly lifted my skirt and proceeded to shove her orange flavored ice into my pussy. Flick Flick Flick Flick. I was in a dorm room, drinking Sangria and orange juice and vodka, impaled on someone's cock while another one went in and out of my mouth. Flick Flick Flick Flick.
Oh My GOD I was cumming! My third orgasm.
Taking off the alligator clamps after the third orgasm was even more terrible than the two times before. Pain radiated through my breasts and my clit felt like someone had been giving me paper cuts and pouring lemon juice on them. Just in one spot mind you. Over an hour and a half had gone by. Over a hundred cars had passed within a few feet of me and my flicking fingers. My fore finger, middle finger, and ring finger of my right hand were all sore from the repeated flicks. This time I cried real tears as the clamps came off. When the crushing pain turned to throbbing hurt I reached down, hand trembling for the bottle of Stinging O.
And I did it all again. I can't even begin to explain how much my nipples hurt. My clit was beyond that. I inspected it before putting the alligator clamp back on it. Red. Swollen to twice its size, with little red teeth marks on the clitoris and clitoral hood. It looked like raw meat. Shuddering, wishing I could stop, I once more squeezed the jumbo size alligator clamp open, positioned it over both my clitoral hood and the clitoris itself, and let it close.
I wonder what its like to be on fire. Not a sunburn, but actual burning. No, I'm not going to do it. I'm not stupid obviously. But I wonder how much difference there is in the pain I was feeling compared to having six inches of your forearm burned to a crisp. I'm sure being burned is worse, especially since my agony was self-induced, which just makes me either stupid or a nympho humiliation PAIN slut. The fact I kept cumming was a pretty good signal I was the latter. The fresh coating of Stinging O wasn't as momentous either. I was probably getting used to it, or the exquisite pain I was feeling was so much more powerful than the cooling tingling slowly heating discomfort of the chemical. I left the vibroballs at medium of course, wishing I could turn them to high. But then I was ready. There was nothing else to do but start.
Flick Flick Flick. I remember the homecoming float our senior year. Kari would have been prom queen if she had wanted to run, but she wasn't into that. I remember us helping to build it, along with the giant daisy flower in the front. It had a hole for a face and I ended up sitting there. But before we started, Kari stuffed me with a vibrator on high and cuffed me. I couldn't get out of the flower. I couldn't stop the buzzing. So I just sat there and came and came, over and over while the float went down our town's main street over toward the high school. I remember seeing my parents waving and smiling while I tried to hide the orgasm I was having, keeping my pleasure, my distress, my need off my face. Flick Flick Flick Flick Flick. I remembered meeting Michael and his wife jenni for the first time, wearing this super revealing little black dress, black nipple clamps visible underneath the material, and stuffed with ben wa balls. I teetered on the high heels. They were so sweet. So understanding. So wonderful. So loving. Why didn't we leave together? I wanted to let them both use me, to take me, to hurt me. I still wonder what I did wrong that night. Flick Flick Flick Flick. I'm crying, standing out in the rain. It's the middle of summer and I'm half-naked, bent over the hood of my car. The white dress I'm wearing is transparent but that means nothing, especially since it's pulled up around my waist. My bared breasts are pressed to the hot sizzling hood, heat streaming into my nipples even as Kari uses the wooden paddle to scorch my rear end. I was late meeting her... flick flick flick flick.
The fourth orgasm was strong. Convulsions rippled through me and I resisted the urge to grab the alligator clamp on my clit and twist. My eyes rolled up into the back of my head and I just sat there, gasping, shuddering, shaking, trembling until the waves ebbed and the adrenaline flooding my system began to dissipate. Another car had come to a stop in front of my truck and the driver, a woman this time was looking at me. I summoned the energy to wave and when I did she nodded and drove off.
Removing the alligator clamps almost was more than I could handle. It was like having the worst sunburn of your life followed by someone giving you a vigorous massage. With sand on their hands. I actually curled up in a ball on the seat as my brain practically shut down from the agony. When I could breath again I slowly sat up, staring resolutely out the windshield. I cranked the vibroballs up to maximum, taking deep slow steady breaths. I watched maybe five cars drive by. Finally I reached for the Stinging O and once more dabbed the cream onto my nipples and clit, trying desperately to barely even touch them.
I waited of course. The tingling began first, not nearly as intense as it had been when I first started, but when the coolness started to turn warm, I knew I was ready. I took my alligator nipple clamps, held them up to each breast, and let them close.
Ready is a misleading term. I wasn’t ready. Not really. When those two metal jaws bit down on my nipples I felt like screaming. It hurt. A lot. Like sharp needles being driven through my tits. I’m sensitive on my nipples and those alligator clamps were the very thing that sends me, if I’m already aroused, into sexual abandon. With my hips grinding away already thanks to the vibroballs roaring inside me, I grabbed my jumbo alligator clip. It was hard to put it on. My hands shook and I didn’t want to pincer the wrong spot. Finally, with two hands steadying my grip, I positioned the metal teeth over my clit and the hood, letting them close steadily increasing pressure until the sensation became discomfort and discomfort led to “Oh My God, this HURTS!”
My brain was fried. I tried to slip into day dreams, remembering past torments, sexcapades, parties, gangbangs, even more recent assignments. But nothing came. The throbbing of my clit was too much. If I had just kept the clamps on through the five orgasms, I might have been okay. But taking them on and off, relubing my clit and nipples with the Stinging O… it was just too much. My right hand was down by my clit but I couldn’t bring myself to flick the alligator clamp chewing on my pussy.
A car drove by. Flick. I almost jumped out of my seat. Five seconds later another one came. Flick. A minute later another. Flick. With each car or truck that passed I flicked the jumbo alligator clamp, feeling my hips begin a herky jerk thrust pattern that soon had me gasping, wishing the vibroballs were cock and that I was tied spread-eagled to a bed. Flick. Flick Flick. There were times when I went almost a whole minute not touching the clamp, and times when four or five cars hit the exit at the same time. It was too random, too strung out, and I realized I needed to pick up the pace if I was actually going to cum.
So two flicks per car.
Green sedan. Flick flick. White van. Flick flick. Red sports car. Flick Flick. Cream Lexus. Flick Flick. It went on. Finally I felt myself ripening. I was already turned on, already horny, already wanting release, but there is a difference between wanting and needing. I NEEDED to orgasm at that point, and my fingers began flicking at the alligator clamp at a faster pace. My hips jerked and thrust forward with every movement of my hand and the metal pincers flopped back and forth with my clit. Like some demonic jewelry decoration, the clamp dangled down through my petals and I spread my legs even farther in order to feel the touch of the clamp.
I remember flicking the clamp and then suddenly being unable to control myself. I remember grabbing it and PUSHING it into my clit. Pain exploded through me at the same time something ELSE exploded through me. My body literally popped in fiery bliss as I screamed out loud, my orgasm overwhelming the pain, the hurt, the agony of my torment. It was SO POWERFUL. I squirted juices all over the floor of my truck cabin and I slid down beneath the dash in a quivering, blubbering mass of tear streaked barely conscious nympho humiliation pain slut.
I guess it was ten minutes later when I realized I needed to pick myself off the floor of the cab. The center column was digging in my stomach, my clit and nipples were throbbing, and the vibroballs were still roaring in my pussy. It wouldn’t do to get horny again. Slowly I pulled myself up, grabbing hold of the steering wheel. I managed to get back into my seat just in time to see the wide eyed look of astonishment and shock in his eyes. I quickly dragged one arm across my tits while the other went down to cover my bare slit even as I pressed my legs together. The clamp on my clit hurt.
He just stood there, looking at me. His car was parked askew of mine, as if he were just checking me out. Early twenties, probably just a bit younger than me, dressed in slacks and a polo shirt and a leather coat opened down the front. Finally I lowered my arm from across my chest, giving him a very clear and unimpeded view of my alligator clamped tits. I unrolled the window (yes my truck is that old) and felt the cool air swirl into my truck. My nipples were already hard, but they hardened more and I bit down the sudden new surge of pain.
“Can I help you?” I asked politely, trying to keep my voice steady despite the throbbing hurt.
“Uh…” was all that came out of his mouth. Tits impairment, along with a big old dose of “Holy Shit!”
Ignoring my audience now, I reached up and squeezed open both clamps on my nipples. I hissed, closing my eyes. Oh God it hurt to take those off. Then, looking straight at him, I reached down between my legs. His eyes followed my hand. My fingers found the jumbo alligator clamp and opened it, sending another lightning strike upward from my abused sex to my overloaded brain. I didn’t just hiss, I squealed, hard, shaking like a leaf in a winter storm. He just watched.
My chest heaving as I sucked in deep breaths, I turned back to look at him. He was still shocked. I reached for the vibroballs remote, but couldn’t find it without looking, so I glanced down, found the little plastic teardrop shaped controls and silenced the vibroballs. Then I looked back at my voyeur.
“Did you come over to check on me?” I asked.
He nodded, still flabbergasted. I guess my bare breasts helped with that.
“Awww… that’s sweet.” I smiled for him despite the residual agony I was feeling. “Do you have a big cock?” I asked.
He blinked. No response. Still speechless. I grabbed my duster and popped the door open. The vibroballs remote fell onto the concrete. He had to take a step back. I was stiff as I got out of the truck. The door blocked the view of any passing cars as I pushed my arms into the duster. Finally I buttoned it all up and stuck the remote into the inside pocket. I was still barefoot of course, and the asphalt was cold on my toes, but I shoved the truck keys into my pocket, grabbed my purse, and then, eying the cold steel alligator clamps, took those too.
I closed the door of my truck and locked it, then turned to my voyeur. “All right, let’s go! Your place of course!” and I walked over to his car. He was still in shock, though now my breasts were concealed by the duster, at least now showing a little independent thought. He followed me over to his car. I stood at the passenger door, sort of hopping up and down. The concrete was cold.
He opened the car door and I got in. The door closed and he moved around to the driver’s side door. By the time he got in I had the duster unbuttoned and my tender red hard nipples exposed. A moment later my pussy was also in view. His eyes widened again and I leaned over, holding out my hand. He did the expected thing and matched the move, palm up. I dropped the alligator clamps into his fingers. Again, a look of surprise.
“What do I do with these?” He stammered.
I grinned. “The little ones go on my nipples. The big one goes on my clit. Then you flick it.” While he just looked at me in shock, I pulled the bottle of Stinging O out of my purse and rubbed a little into each nipple. They tingled. Then I did my slit.
I turned slightly toward him and presented my breasts. He started with my left nipple. Oh it hurt. Yes it did. I was hissing and moaning, even whimpering. Then he did my right nipple. Throbbing pain. He looked down between my legs as I parted my thighs. I reached into my duster and grabbed the vibroballs remote and cranked it up to full power. The vibrations roared through me and my hips churned. I could barely hold still long enough for him to do what needed to be done.
And then my clit was crushed, once more caught between the jaws of a metal monster with no feeling, no mind, sending both pleasure and pain up through me to my brain. I spread my legs wide, leaned back, and gasped “please, hurry… I need to fuck you!” The car took off and I closed my eyes. But then I felt his hand on my leg, sliding across my thigh until it was close to my pussy. I tensed. No… was he?
Flick. Oh God Yes He Was. Flick. Damn that hurts! Flick. Geeze I want to FUCK! Flick. God I need to cum!