It had been a tough couple of days. Ever since Monday afternoon I had been sans orgasm, which meant a full five days of sexual frustration. For the first few days I had been stuck in my Chastity Belt. I probably would have still been stuck in it if it hadn't been for the fact that I ended up with some medical issues concerning the anal plug. Let's face it, the human rectum was just not built to permanently house a four inch vibrating plug for extended periods of time. Especially when every three hours meant removing it, lubing it with Stinging O cream, reinserting it, and then turning the vibrator function on high for thirty minutes. But that wasn't the only thing going on. On the first hour it was the clit vibrator at the front of the belt for two minutes, on high. Then the next hour it was the vaginal phallus, ten minutes on high. Then I had to do the whole anal plug thing. Talk about sexual frustration.
On Wednesday I had to endure the vibroballs, on for ten minutes every hour, unless I was close to cumming. That was tough. I went twice without turning them on because I was worried I was going to cum and once I turned them off a little early. To much stimulation. And I was horny. Thursday I moved to my Husky dildo, which wasn't that bad. Sure, I still wasn't allowed to cum, but all I really had to do was not go horseback riding or use the tractor and I was relatively sane. Friday however, Master Barrett set me to wearing my ben wa balls and a clothespin on my clit. This was pure torment. The ben wa balls only activate if I'm moving around and I almost lost it that morning while doing my chores. But I managed to make it through, and Master Barrett only made me "flick" the clothespin once or twice to keep me right on the edge.
So when he told me I needed to keep the ben wa balls and clothespin on through Saturday, I almost cried.
But I was saved! Yep. By Mistress Ellen. See, if I'm given an assignment, then the minor torments applied to me daily are subsequent to my little daily torment. I didn't beg or ask for it, she just gave it to me and I didn't see a reason NOT to accept the assignment, especially when it meant major relief for me! Besides, Master Barrett told me I was too suffer until I was finished with my writing. And I AM. So there! Anyway, Mistress Ellen and I discussed the assignment and here is what I got told to do:
Breanne, you will go to the mall dressed in something incredibly sexy and only on the verge of being decent. You will stop at a lingerie store and purchase a new camisole or teddy, something that is transparent and leaves your pussy available. You will then go shopping at other clothing stores, but you aren't looking for clothes, you're looking for the prototypical guy standing by the women's dressing rooms, waiting. You will approach the guy, explain you've recently made a purchase and want to try it on, but would like his opinion. Invite him into the changing room with you. If possible, try to be in the changing room next to the person he is waiting for. Once inside, get out your lingerie and then strip naked. Put on your lingerie. Ask him how he likes it. Then offer him either a blowjob or fuck. You must find five guys, each of which you must at least get into the changing room with you.
So around 9:45 I picked out an outfit that I thought would fit the bill quite nicely. Don't worry, it's something you'd be familiar with. My blue stretch skirt and the white tube top. It's warm enough here in Texas and its spring and I was feeling daring. Besides, I look good in it. I also grabbed my nice blue sandals with the three inch heels. Not the stripper shoes. Real shoes. AS a result I ended up looking a little slutty, but not at a point where I needed to be arrested for indecency. As usual, I left the house in my blue denim skirt, tee shirt, and flip flops, but once I got out onto the main road, I pulled over, moved to the front of the truck, and peeled off my clothes.
This was started ages ago by Mistress Ellen in fact. She likes me to publically strip, even though I'm usually unobserved. Its the risk, though I think if she had her way, I'd be doing it every day in a hardware store. I wonder if Mike would really mind? Uh.. never mind. Anyway. standing at the front of my truck, the empty Farm to Market road stretched off in both directions empty. I took off my tee shirt, folded it, removed my bra, and then slipped the denim shorts down my legs. I already wasn't wearing panties thanks to the clothespin that had been clamped to my clit for over twenty four hours. Yes, I slept with it on. Yes. It ached. And yes, even tapping it, barely touching it, made me so wet that I'd almost come. Hmmm... maybe that's what I should have tweeted to Master Barrett! "Please Master Barrett, if you let me cum I'll.... stand naked from the waist down in front of a stranger and let him smack the clothespin back and forth until I either cum or it falls off." I wonder if he would have accepted that?
Anyway, with the road still empty I pulled on skirt and tube top, leaving myself stuffed with both ben wa balls and the clothespin on my clit. I want to make it clear, that I didn't HAVE To do that. I could have taken off the clothespins, and removed the vibroballs. Notice that they were not part of the assignment? But I'm a good girl and even though technically I was sort of working around Master Barrett's daily torment, I was still trying to honor most of it.
Except for the not cumming part.
I'm am going to be in SOOO much trouble. Sigh.
I got to the mall a little early but that didn't matter much. I headed in, acutely aware of the fact that every step I took caused the ben wa balls to roll around inside me. Now I have to tell you, generally the ben wa balls don't do that much to my libido. Sure, when I was sixteen and dressed like a tart and Kari would have me walk the mall, I couldn't stand it for longer than fifteen or twenty minutes before I was wheezing through an orgasm while leaning on a wall. Now a days, I can spend DAYS with the ben wa balls in and moving and not cum. Of course, if I'm ALSO not allowed to orgasm at any time, including my usual three to four a day masturbations, then the ben wa balls suddenly become a bit more effective at turning me on. So I walked slowly and deliberately toward the lingerie store. I sat down on a bench outside, kept my knees together, felt the clothespin between my thighs, gently chewing on my clit, and waited.
Picking out the right set of lingerie wasn't that hard. I knew exactly what I was looking for. It needed to be transparent, long enough to come down over most of my ass, but short enough to keep my pussy exposed. It also needed to be pretty. I was looking for something in pink, but I ended up with this gauzy camisole type long shirt that flared near the bottom. It was intended to be worn with panties, but I decided it would be more fun without! Anyway, I made my purchase, with only a few sidelong glances from the girls working the shop. To be honest, I probably looked like a slightly higher dollar hooker, but hey, being a nympho humiliation pain slut has its privileges and dressing like a slut is one of them. So now armed with a very pink bag declaring quite plainly that I had just bought lingerie, I began wandering the mall. Ostensibly I was window shopping, but as I went in store after store, I was actually looking for a target. It was over forty minutes before I found one. I won't mention the name of the store but it catered to women and I spied this couple. He was clearly bored. She, a woman who easily topped out on the two hundred pound mark, had an armful of items to try on. I waited, watching, trying to find something in my size. Finally they moved off toward the back of the store and the changing rooms and I followed. It wasn't a long wait. She didn't even say anything to him, just disappeared into the room while he leaned against a wall. I caught his attention quickly enough just by walking up to him and I have him one of my million watt please fuck me smiles.
"Hi" I said with a touch more warmth than I would have greeted a stranger at the gas station.
He blinked in surprise. Then he spoke to my breasts. "Hello."
I took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor? I just purchased a new outfit and I wanted to try it on, but I need someone to take a look and tell me how well it fits. Would you mind?" I asked.
He tore his eyes away from my breasts and down to my bag. I could already see the gears turning in his eyes. He nodded.
"Sure. I can do that," he said with a grin.
"Great! Come on!" I said, reaching out to grab his hand.
"Uh! Wait, where are we going?" he asked, a little alarmed.
I gave him a vapid bubbleheaded sort of look, the kind you expect from a bimbo. "Into the changing room of course!" I replied, acting a little confused.
"Um... with you?" he asked, his tone a little concerned.
"Well of course. How else would you be able to look at it?"
His eyebrows went up. "Well you could come back out here..." he left it hanging.
I just laughed and took his arm again. "There is no WAY I could wear this outfit out here!" I pulled and he hesitated. "Are you coming?"
He glanced back at the changing room his wife had disappeared into, then took a step in my direction. I grinned as I turned toward the changing rooms as well and quickly opened the one RIGHT NEXT to the one his wife was in.
I was lucky. The changing rooms were huge and I could have hosted an orgy in there. Well, probably. It was certainly big enough for the two of us and I sat my lucky find on the bench while I set my bag on the floor. I gave him a grin and then fished my see through green camisole out of the bag. His eyes widened in surprise and then he had this huge grin on his face as I hung it up on a little hook to the side.
Then I stripped. And I did it sexy too. Hell, I almost gave him a lap dance. I slipped my tube top over my head, turning my back to him, only to whirl around again, arms covering my breasts. Then, right in front of him, I uncovered my tits and began pushing the tube stretchy skirt down my ankles, once more turning around so that he got a good look at my bare ass.
Now I'm mostly healed from the previous Saturday's caning, but I KNOW there are still a few bruises and welts that are still visible, but he didn't say a word. Same thing with my breasts. I still have one rather bad line across both tits. It's faded quite a bit, but its very clear that someone took a cane to my breasts. But when I turned to face him, his eyes took it all in.
"IS that a clothespin?" he asked, pointing toward my clit. Still naked, I nodded and took a step closer. I put one leg up on bench next to him.
"Yes. Want to flick it?"
"Fuck ya!" he said quietly. He reached out and slapped the wooden peg once from back to front and I almost swooned in delight. I reached out and gripped his shoulders as the wave of pleasure smashed into me and almost brought me to orgasm.
"Flick it till I cum and I'll fuck you!" I whispered, fingers pressed tightly into his shoulder.
He did me proud. Suddenly my clit was being tugged, smacked, moved around and manipulated as I gasped and tried not to scream. In seconds the wave that had been building crested and I found my self thrusting my hips forward, rocking back and forth as I climaxed. It was sudden and intense and when I started to come down from the heights my eyes were glazed and I felt a sudden lethargy flow through me. Thus is the letdown after sudden adrenaline and endorphin highs.
I came down from that height to see cock. It was already out, already exposed and I fell to my knees on the carpet and went to town. My new lover could have been a little more fastidious in his personal grooming, but it wasn't bad and I had him hard in seconds. Mostly because he was already that way. I did some judicious sucking while my fingers removed the ben wa balls.
Then I found my purse and shortly his cock was condom clad as I turned around and proceeded to give him a lap dance he would never forget. We grunted, fucking each other's brains out until he pushed me off his lap and onto the floor. Before I could even blink he ripped, yes RIPPED the clothespin off my clit and then pinned me to the changing room carpet. I didn't even get a chance to put on the camisole.
When he came it was with a grunt and then he was up, pulling off the condom even before he had lost his erection. I stayed on the floor, naked, fucked, and with a rather wet pussy. It had gone too fast and I wasn't quite mentally connected yet. He looked down at me, tossing the used condom next to my hip and got his trousers back up and zipped.
"The outfit looks great," he said, then opened the door, peeking out. It closed after him and I slowly sat up.
Wow. I swept my hand under the bench, retrieving the ben wa balls and my clothespin. I hauled myself upward onto the bench and sat there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Had that been the quickest fuck I'd ever done? I shook my head, trying to clear it, but finally I just shrugged, stood up, and retrieved my fallen tube top and stretchy skirt. These both went on quickly and once covering my more salient parts, I propped one leg back up on the bench, slipped the ben wa balls back into my pussy, and then carefully let the clothespin pinch my clit in silent sexual torment. Lastly my camisole went back into the pink lingerie bag and I headed back out into the mall, looking for fuck number two.
My orgasm had gone a long way to relieving some of the stress I was feeling and even though the quick fuck had also brought me half way back up, and admittedly the clothespin wasn't making anything easier, I was able to handle the stress of walking the mall with the ben wa balls much easier. To my surprise, I had trouble, even on a Saturday, with finding another couple whose male partner was waiting around for her to try something on. Once again, I ended up following a shopping couple, rather than randomly visiting changing rooms, and after a full hour was finally presented with another opportunity.
It was a younger couple this time, obviously not married. She was thin, very punk rockish, with purple spiked hair, enough hardware piercing her face to set of airport metal detectors, and a decidedly Hot Topic meets Little School Girl taste in clothing. He was shaved bald and his arms were covered in tattoos. Now usually this isn’t my normal taste in guys. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind tattoos, it’s just that usual guys like this are a bit… rough around the edges. While I’m compatible sexually, emotionally and in other ways I’m not. Besides, I usually like guys who don’t have an easy time finding girls, rather than guys who can walk into a bar and find a slut in about ten seconds.
But since it was so hard to find guys actually waiting on their girlfriends or wives, I didn’t have an option. I couldn’t be picky, though to be honest I was pretty sure nothing was going to happen. So after Ms. Spiky Hair disappeared into the dressing room with Mr. Tattoo standing outside, I made my approach.
The words I used were almost an exact repeat of what I had told my first paramour of the day. I had recently bought a new outfit (holding up the lingerie bag) and needed someone to give me their opinion on how it looked. I got the same amount of interest from Mr. Tattoo, but as we walked toward the changing rooms (I was aiming for the one next to where his Amazonian girlfriend was in) he moved to the right, one hand on my arm, and opened the door, exposing a half dressed punk chick. She looked at her boyfriend with an arched eyebrow even as she was snapping the button closed on the jeans she was trying on. Her shirt and skirt were on the hook behind her and she had on a, I kid you not, pink lace bra. Both nipples were obviously pierced and I felt the hand on my arm tighten as Mr. Tattoo maneuvered me into the doorway.
“Bitch here says she wants an opinion on her new outfit and invited me to watch.”
I got a dangerous look from Ms. Spiky Hair. I started to pull away but Mr. Tattoo was standing sort of behind me and I was pushed into the stall. It wasn’t really meant for three people and I suddenly found myself breast to breast with Ms. Spiky Hair as Mr. Tattoo sat down on the bench, the door closing behind us. She reached up to my bag, pulled out the green lace camisole, and held it up.
“Oh yeah, lets see it on, bitch,” she said. I started to reach for it, but she tossed it to Mr. Tattoo instead and then grabbed my tube top. I started to clasp my arms to my breasts, but she had the elastic top yanked down before I could even really move. I ended up mashing my arms into my bare breasts instead. But then Mr. Tattoo grabbed my arms, pulling them behind me. Ms. Spiky Hair pinched my nipples, eliciting a sharp groan from me, then pulled my white tube top downward, snagging my stretchy skirt on the way and sending them to the floor.
“Holy shit! Bitch girl has got a clothespin on her clitty!” she exclaimed. I gasped as she touched it, wiggling it around.
“Like that bitch girl? You like it kinky? You need me to twist this sucker around a bit?”
I didn’t reply. I just moaned and spread my legs. Pain and pleasure shot up from my sex as she twisted the clothespin around, going to her knees. My pussy tightened around the ben wa balls and my hips jerked. Mr. Tattoo stood up and put his hands on my breasts, kneading them and then pinching my nipples hard.
“What the fuck? You on the rag, bitch?” I felt a tug at my pussy and realized she thought the little string sticking out of my pussy was to a tampon, rather than the ben wa balls.
“No…” I gasped “Ben… wa… balls,” I managed to say between the rapid manipulation of my clit and the hard pinches of my nipples.
I felt the ben wa balls pop out of my sopping wet sex, ringing clearly now.
“Damn! She’s a slut, Frank!”
Mr. Tattoo, whose name was evidently Frank, responded by giving my nipples an extra hard pinch. I could feel his hard cock pressed against my bare ass through the jeans he was wearing. With my hands down by my sides, I reached behind me and rubbed him through the denim. I’m not sure if Ms. Spiky Hair noticed, but she shoved two fingers into me, fucking me with her hand before pulling her slimy digits from my snatch and holding them up to my mouth, making me suck my own juice.
“So you like the taste of pussy? Good.”
She started undressing now. I was right about the piercings. When the bra came off I saw two rather large c cup breasts, both sporting barbell piercings horizontally across the nipples. Her jeans went next and she was wearing brown boy shorts. They looked good on her and she pulled them off and pushed them down her legs. Her toenails were painted a dark purple and then she moved over to the bench, sat down, and lifted one leg. Her pussy wasn’t shaved and she sported a dark mass of black hair. Frank (or Mr. Tattoo as I still think of him) turned me around and pushed me down to my knees. Ms. Spiky Hair reached out, grabbed me by the hair, and pulled my face to her crotch.
Despite her unshaved snatch and the scent of arousal in the little room (which admittedly could have been mine), she was clean. I really had no choice but to use my tongue, which I dragged against her clit repeatedly as she began taking heavy breaths. I could tell she was becoming aroused because her flavor changed from mild to heavy and there was added wetness. I suckled her folds and concentrated on making her cum.
Which was why I didn’t hear the sound of the zipper behind me.
During my interaction with Ms. Spiky Hair, Mr Tattoo had unzipped his jeans, pulled out his cock, put on a condom (evidently some guys come prepared) and then expertly stuck his dick into my pussy. It was an awkward angle, because of how I was kneeling, but the sensation of being filled was too good and as I felt my own orgasm rising up, I redoubled my efforts on Ms. Spiky Hair’s pussy. We came almost at the same time, grunting and groaning as my pussy was pounded.
But even as I cried out my orgasm into Ms. Spiky Hair’s pussy, she was pushing me away and moments later we were playing musical chairs. The cock inside me was withdrawn and then Mr. Tattoo was sitting on the bench, with me in his lap, impaled once again, while Ms. Spiky Hair knelt in front of me. Mr. Tattoo helped spread my legs, widening them till my high heels touched the walls of the changing room and while he thrust upward into me, Ms. Spiky Hair began touching the clothespin.
Did I say touching? I should have said pulling. Or twisting. Or jerking. All I know is that Mr. Tattoo was holding my thighs, keeping me from closing my legs while his girlfriend knelt between my legs and sent shooting pains and incredible pleasure up from my clit.
“You like that, don’t you bitch? Like having me play with your clitty?” Ms. Spiky Hair asked as she gave the clothespin a full 360 degree twist. My eyes rolled up into the top of my head. I gasped, and then bit down on my lip, trying to keep quiet. Mr. Tattoo continued to pound into me and Ms. Spiky Hair stroked his exposed ball sack even as she tugged on my clamped clit.
Moments later he came, his mouth on my shoulder, biting into my flesh. He left teeth marks actually.
I was already being kicked up the orgasm hill and was nearing the top thanks to Ms. Spiky Hair’s manipulation of the clothespin, not to mention the pistoning cock in my pussy. I probably would have exploded again if it had not been for a sharp knock on the changing room door.
“Damn it, Kristen! Carol will be back soon so you and Frank better cut it out and leave!” a woman’s voice said.
Ms. Spiky Hair sighed and let go of the clothespin. I was pushed to my feet as both Ms. Spiky Hair, aka “Kristen” and Mr. Tattoo, aka “Frank” got back into their clothes. They did it fast even as I looked around for mine. My skirt and tube top had both ended up underneath the bench and even as I bent down to retrieve it, the door opened up as Frank left.
“Shit, three of you?” the girl outside asked, giving Ms. Spiky Hair a disgusted look. “Whose she?”
Kristen looked back at me. “Just a slut that came on to Frank. We fucked her. Bitch has a fucking clothespin on her clit.”
The other girl gave me a look of appraisal though I had grabbed my clothes and held them to my bare body. I knew she wanted to see if Kristen was right, but I wasn’t about to just show her. Besides, the nametag on her shirt, which I couldn’t read from where I was, said very clearly she worked at the store we were in.
“Well, ya’ll need to leave. Carol will be back any minute and you know she’ll flip a lid if she sees you in here,” the clerk girl said to Ms. Spiky Hair. Kristen stuffed her blouse back into her skirt, grinned, and grabbed Frank. Then it was just the clerk and me. She took a step forward, almost coming into the changing stall. Her nameplate said “Bethany”. She was a redhead, like me, except I think she was natural, plus she was about forty pounds overweight. She crossed her arms across her chest.
“I want to see the clothespin.”
I stayed the way I was. “Why?” I asked.
Bethany stepped into the stall, reached out, and grabbed my tube top, yanking it away. It stretched and then popped from the one hand holding it. I let out a little yelp and then covered my breasts with my arm.
“Show me or I call security to tell them you’re publically lewd and masturbating in my store.”
Oh yeah, that was just what I needed. Mall Security coming by, then the police. I shook my head, then slowly let both my arm across my breasts drop and my stretchy skirt. The clothespin was still sticking straight out like a stupid looking wooden penis. Bethany stared at it for just a moment and then laughed. She reached out, touched it, sending lightning up through me and she noticed. A few movements back and forth and I was having trouble standing.
“You like that, don’t you.”
I nodded, trying to keep from collapsing on to the floor as she wiggled the clothespin around. I ended up with my back against the changing room wall, my legs spread, up on tip toe, which in high heels is even more impressive. Bethany lifted one hand to my nipple, pinching it even as her other hand wiggled, twisted, tugged, and shook the clothespin that was attached to my clit. In short order I was close to cumming.
And she stopped.
“Now get dressed and get out of my store.” She stepped away from me, left the changing room, and walked away. I stumbled forward and shut the door, giving myself privacy. If there was a way to measure how close someone is to orgasm, a NHPS scale, where orgasm is a ten, and total non-arousal is a one, then I was sitting at about 9.6 and uncomfortable as hell. At that point ANYONE could have walked up, told me to strip and bend over, and I would have.
I worked myself back into my stretchy skirt, trying not to move the clothespin more than I had to. Sure, I thought about masturbating, giving myself relief, despite my earlier orgasms, but I knew that was wrong. Besides, I would just look for another couple, right? I found my ben wa balls and slipped them back into my pussy. That by itself almost caused the orgasm I was at that point trying to avoid. I spent a minute just leaning against the wall and breathing deep, trying to calm down. Then I put my tube top back on.
The changing room reeked of sex, but that wasn’t my problem. So when I had sufficiently recovered enough to keep my face a clear and calm, I opened the door and stepped out into the store. The ben wa balls rang inside me, rolling slightly, as if someone were massaging my insides. I walked slowly. I threaded my way through the racks of clothes, keeping an eye out for Bethany. She was no where to be seen, instead, an older blonde woman with a name tag saying “Carol”, stood at the counter. She nodded at me once, eyes never suggesting she knew what I had just done in her changing booth. A sense of relief flooded over me as I left the store and stepped back into the mall.
My overcharged libido came back down of course. Not much, but a little. While walking was definitely still an issue, thanks to the ben wa balls and the little clothespin, it wasn’t enough to keep me right on the edge constantly. I slid from my 9.6 down to a steady 8.5 and remained there while I stopped, grabbed a little lunch, and then started hunting again.
And came up with NOTHING. I spent two more hours at the mall, walking it back and forth. I did see one couple shopping for clothes and I followed them, but they ended up at the Target and their dressing rooms are monitored. No go there. Anyway, I was getting really tired, my feet were hurting and finally I gave up and headed for home. Still horny. Still stuffed. Still clamped.
But wait. The story doesn’t end there. You know who was pissed? Yep. Master Barrett. Not that I did the assignment, but that I KNEW I was going around him. Granted it was “technically” legal, but I sure as hell violated the spirit of our little agreement, didn’t I?
And I paid for it. His email was explicit. I actually printed it off, holding it with shaking fingers on Sunday afternoon. I grabbed what I would need and headed down to the barn.
The first thing I did was get out my tack mat. It’s nothing more than a two foot by one foot ¼ inch rubber slab that has had about a thousand tacks nailed through it. One side is nothing but tack heads. The other side is more interesting. It’s nothing but spikes. Granted, only about half a millimeter is sticking out of the rubber, but it’s enough. The next thing I did was strip. I had been wearing jeans and a tee shirt, but those got peeled off quick enough, as did the bra and panties, leaving me naked standing in the barn. On Sunday I was stuffed with my vibroballs, so I took them out as well, cleaning them with a baby wipe and putting them in the bag.
Then I got out my CoreDriller. The Core Driller is a twelve inch long, four section, black rubber dildo that looks like a multi-stage rocket. It’s one of those dildos that I’m still not really accustomed to. Sure, I can have it inside me, but if I’m sitting for extended periods, or worse… on a tractor or a horse, the CoreDriller is like being fucked with a jackhammer. It’s WORSE than a vibrator. It fills me completely. I really didn’t need to lube it. I was already wet, so I sat down on a bale of hay covered with a horse blanket, lifted one leg, and slowly inserted my largest dildo. It felt incredible.
Next I went back to my bag, which thankfully was right next to me. I can’t walk with the CoreDriller in my pussy unless I’m wearing panties and jeans or shorts. It won’t stay in. I really should rig something up. It’s got a little ring in the bottom and I could easily put a rope in there…. Oh my… a rope thong again? With a knot right at my clit? Threaded through the CoreDriller? Hush Breanne…maybe no one noticed.
I got out my Husky Dildo and my bottle of grapeseed oil. My Husky dildo is this flesh toned rubber cock. It’s nine inches long and three inches wide. It comes with a nice flat base which includes two thick rubber balls. Slowly I lubricated this and then set it down on the blanket while I stood. One hand was holding in the Core Driller while I got everything positioned. I couldn’t believe I was about to try this. I turned around, moved my ass above the Husky, and slowly started to sit down.
I hate having things in my ass. Everyone will tell you that. But for the first time I was grateful that I had spent so much time with large anal plugs shoved up my rear, or vibrating anal beads, or cock. I wasn’t able to get the whole nine inches in, but I got a good portion of it. Maybe six or seven inches. And it hurt too. I could literally feel the dildos banging against each other inside me. Now fully impaled, I reached into my bag, and pulled my alligator clamps out. These are just two metal clamps, with sharp teeth, connected by a chain. They went on my nipples. Pain raced through me straight to my pussy and I found myself teetering on the edge of about 9.4 on the NHPS scale. So gasping and aching I stumbled to my feet, hands trying to keep the dildos both inside me while the chain between my alligator clamped nipples swung.
I moved over to the tack mat, which was thankfully only two steps away. I reached the spot and knelt down. This part scared me a little bit. How the hell was I supposed to do a full fifty NHPS Pushups with the Alligator clips on? Then I realized what Master Barrett intended. See, when I put the alligator clamps on my nipples, I latched them on from the bottom, so that the clamps and the chain would dangle downward. There is an art form to how one puts clamps on a girl’s nipples. For example, with duck bill clamps you put them on from the front, horizontally, so that the clamps stick straight out. Most of the time when I have clothespins on they are like this too. Guys like to see them sticking straight out. Clover clamps go on from underneath, pinching the nipple on the sides with the hardware and attached chain dangling down. Alligator clamps work the same way. In this instance, the alligator clamps had actually squeezed my nipple and made it more prominent, sticking out slightly. This would mean a greater likelihood of the nipple coming into a deeper contact with a tack, not to mention the pressure of my upper body resting on my tits, resting on the tack mat would cause my nipple to push into the teeth of the clamp as well as any tacks below.
I did it anyway. I made sure the chain was out of the way and then got into a push up position. I kept my legs closed, thighs pressed together in an effort to keep my dildos in. Then, with my breasts dangling above spiked hell, I lowered myself down.
Needles. Pain. Agony. Up. Down. Counting. Breathe. Gritting teeth. Piercing. Slipping. Catching breath. Reinsertion. Pressing thighs together. Down. Up. Owwwww….
I took forty minutes. Part of the problem was that the damn CoreDriller kept slipping out. After three or four pushups, each which took thirty or forty seconds, I’d accidently let my legs open and the Core Driller would go shooting out like a rocket. Once I lost the Husky too and THAT was fun. You know how hard it is to do something like a NHPS Pushup when you’re holding in two thick dildos? When I finally finished I noticed I was actually bleeding from one nipple. It was just a trickle, and stopped in a few seconds, but I could FEEL the cut. I stumbled back over to the hay bale and sat down.
Completely forgetting that the Husky Dildo was only PARTIALLY in my ass.
I weigh about 117lbs. Please imagine that sort of pressure suddenly driving a nine inch long three inch thick shaft up your ass. When I finished rolling in agony (not to mention stupidity) I spent about ten minutes just trying to get a grip. My ass really really hurt. Inside. Anyway, when I was finally ready I took my seat again, though to be honest I was lying on my back. I lifted my right foot and slipped the thick rubber band over the arch. Then I did the same to my left foot.
At ten flicks the sting was bad enough to make me wince. At fifteen I had red lines on both arches and it was taking almost a minute each in order to deal with the pain and keep going. At twenty I was actually rolling as the pain overwhelmed the hurt in my ass AND my breasts. At twenty five I was crying, with like three minutes between snaps. When I got to thirty I wept in relief and just laid there, my eyes closed, suffering. I wasn’t even horny. I was only wet, and then barely. On the NHPS scale, I wasn’t even past four.
“Breanne! Breanne!” I heard in the distance. It was my mother’s voice, calling me from the house. I groaned and sat up, driving the Husky a little deeper into my ass.
“What!” I yelled as loud as I could, wincing as I reached down to tug the dildo out of my rear end. It came out easily and I tossed it aside.
“I need you in here right now!” my mother called.
I admit it. I used a little bit of foul language, but quietly so my mother wouldn’t hear. I rolled off the hay bale while grabbing for my clothes.
“Okay! Be right there!” I shouted as I yanked my panties up. I didn’t even take out the Core Driller.
“No! I need you NOW!” my mother shouted. “Hurry!”
Damn it damn it. I didn’t bother with my bra, but merely shoved myself into the shirt, though I did take a second to unlatch the alligator clamps on my tits. I muffled my scream even as I tugged the shirt downward. Thank God I had been wearing my boots and not shoes, and I shoved my bare feet into the boots, eschewing the socks in order to hurry. I looked around the barn. I had left the tack mat, my socks, my bra, the dirty husky dildo, the alligator clamps and my bag strewn across the floor. Not good.
I tried to run, but my feet were in agony. My ass burned and my nipples felt as if they had been caught in a vise. I waddled, yes waddled up to my mom who was now looking at me in concern.
“Are you okay?” she demanded.
I nodded, holding my breath as I mastered the pain. “Yeah. I fell of Star”. Star is my horse, by the way.
“What?” my mother asked, a little incredulous. As far as lies go, that one wasn’t exactly believable. I haven’t fallen off a horse since I was six.
I waved my hand as I sucked in a breath. “I was doing something stupid.”
Her eyebrow arched as she crossed her arms. “I’ll believe that. Come on. You need to see this.”
And I limped in after my mother. I’d learned my lesson. I got it. And it still hurts.