Daily Assignment 03/23/11: Blue Trucks

I stared at the road in front of me. It was empty and to be honest, I was hoping it stayed that way. My hands were clutching the steering wheel and I was just a tad bit uneasy. I wasn’t totally sure why I was uneasy. Perhaps it was the nervousness at what was coming. Perhaps because my window was open. Maybe it was because there were two clothespins tied to the steering wheel. Maybe it was the fact I was dressed in only flip flops, a tee shirt, and a skirt; no bra, no panties. Or maybe it was because I had my anal beads stuffed up my ass, my vibroballs in my pussy, and my butterfly vibrating stimulator wrapped around my loins and pressed delicately against my already sore clit. They were off of course, but I suspected it wouldn’t be long before they were on.

One hour and ten miles. I could go over of course. I could go farther if it took me an hour. Or I could take longer, if I still needed to cover ten miles. My truck trembled, the engine rumbling, shaking, as if sensing my uneasiness. Or maybe it just needed a fuel injector cleaning. Not sure. Plus there was the other requirement to this adventure I was dreading: a trip through a drive thru at a local fast food place. Talk about humiliating.

In Texas it’s not hard to get away from people. I live on a farm and I can honestly say that with the exception of my family, there isn’t another soul within five miles of my parent’s place. I COULD have driven toward the boonies, long dusty barely paved roads (and some just gravel!) where I could have eaten up the ten miles and single hour without ever passing another car, much less a blue truck. But considering what I had to do, what was expected of me, of what I NEEDED, I turned the wheel the opposite direction and headed north; north toward the freeway, the retail stores, the restaurants, and the mall.

As it was, fate was against me. Granted, I was in a more populated spot, with a number of semi-industrial and agricultural businesses around, but I hadn’t expected it so soon. I mean seriously, how many blue pickup trucks can there possibly be? Worse, it was moving, pulling into a some ranching equipment place and I let out a soft whimper as I pulled my truck over and followed him into the parking lot. Unlike the guy in the blue truck, I parked facing the street, and as far away from the entrance as possible. Already my heart rate had picked up and I was biting my lip in a mixture of dread and excitement.

I turned off the car. First things first, right? I picked up the black control unit that led to the series of beads embedded in my ass. I thumbed the dial, twisting it to its maximum setting, feeling the eight little spheres begin tumbling, vibrating inside me. It felt as if the truck engine was not only still on, but had planted its crank shaft between my butt cheeks. I didn’t stop there either. Next I grabbed the vibroballs remote, quickly bringing both ovoid objects to a clattering, pussy shaking and high level torment. I felt myself clench around both the anal beads and the vibroballs, my already wet pussy squelching as I felt my sex ripen in sexual excitement. I let out a whimper next, but my fingers had already lifted my skirt and quickly flicked the small switch on the front of the butterfly stimulator, sending the small plastic knobbed device into a series of fluttering spasms as it caressed my clit. There were only three settings: off, low, and high. For this assignment, there were only two and low wasn’t one of them.

In seconds I was near orgasm. Even as my thighs pressed together and my hips began jerking spasmodically, I licked my lips and lifted my shirt. My bare breasts were perfectly visible to anyone driving past the truck, but only from the side, not from the front. Carefully, but with increasing difficulty I reached up to the first clothespin and attached it to my left nipple. The string was just long enough to allow me to move around. I followed suit with the other clothespin and in just a moment I was whimpering and moaning as the vibrations sent me spiraling upward to climax and my nipples reacted to the gentle pinching.

I kicked off my flip flops. It was hard, but I managed to bring my left foot up, propping it on my right knee. The position sent a wave of excruciating pleasure through me, almost enough to make me cum right at that second. But I mastered myself long enough to reach over to the console and extract the large tan rubber bands that sat in the little cup. One I put on the seat next to me. The other I slipped over my toes, working it upward until it sat neatly and straight around my foot, bisecting the arch of my sole, the tenderest section.

Closing my eyes for just a moment, I took hold of the rubber band against the sole of my left foot. I pulled it outward, one inch, then two, then three, then four. Then I let it go.
A sharp sting exploded through my arch. It wasn’t too bad though. I could handle it. I did it again, wincing with my lips pressed together. The sting was worse the third and fourth times, and by the time I got to five, I was taking a several moments to recover.

I pulled the foot away from my knee and put the stinging aching punished arch back on the floor of the cab. Then I put my right foot up on my left knee. I grabbed the other rubber band from the seat and slipped it on, repeating the earlier process. Then I began snapping. Just like my left foot, my right felt the repeated sting, slowly becoming more sensitive to the cruel snaps of the rubber against the sole.



With five snaps completed on each foot my fingers fumbled for the control remotes. I grabbed the black anal bead controller and quickly turned it off. The roar in my ass died down and then faded, despite the continued pulsing of my buttocks. Of course my pussy and clit were still being subjected to something around 9.4 on the Richter scale and my leg contortions had caused frequent tugs on my still clothespin clamped nipples. I grabbed my left foot and started to snap again.

This time it hurt, a little. Sure, it stung too, but there was something else there. And with each repeated snap I felt just a little more tender, a little more delicate, a little more responsive. I could see a thin red line building against the already pink skin of my arch and when I finished the second set of five on my left foot, I moved to the right. My nipples were tugged painfully as I got in position and as I started snapping the rubber band against my sole, I shuddered in sudden orgasmic ecstasy. I cried out, my hips grinding downward, my chest heaving, and then I could feel the wet spurts soaking my skirt and the vinyl seat beneath me.

I’m not sure I would have if I had been allowed to. Turn off the vibroballs and butterfly I mean. They felt so good. But I had to move on. I knew that. Besides, what would happen if I was still there in the parking lot when the owner of that blue Toyota Tundra came out and started his truck? I’d have to turn on the anal beads again and do it all over.



So I continued on. Two more snaps to my right foot finished me up and I reached over and turned off the vibroballs, stilling the raging rattle that threatened to send me over the edge a second time. Now I only had to endure the butterfly vibrator. But I was aware of the nature of my torment. The butterfly was no doubt the worst. Already I could feel the build up, the tension rising, the pressure building. It wouldn’t be a vaginal orgasm. I had just had one of those, but it would be clitoral, a mind-numbing, nerve wracking, climax that would be centered on just one spot, tenderized and swollen and perfectly receptive to the direct stimulation. I struggled to get my left foot up, ignoring the now repetitive spasm of my legs and hips. My fingers snapped the rubber band, pain exploding up through my sensitive arch. The sole of my foot burned, aching as the two, then three, then four snaps landed, each punctuated with an audible hiss of pain. My nipples throbbed, agony lancing through my breasts as the crushing bite of the clothespins further antagonized my libido. The fifth snap on my left foot brought tears to my eyes.

I moved to my right foot, but only made it through two snaps before my clit finally overloaded. This time the orgasm made my entire body jerk like a puppet on string, held by an overactive toddler. I actually cried out, trying to smother my wails of pleasure due to the open window. The climax itself was intense due to the focus. Unlike the previous orgasm, this one was centered on one spot, my clit and had been fiery, short lived, and felt raw. Imagine taking a girl’s nipple in one hand and slowly pinching it and her entire breast in a bruising squeeze. Keep squeezing until the pain is deep. Then on her other breast, take a sharp needle and drive it through her nipple. That’s the difference between a vaginal orgasm, and a clitoral one. Got it?

I struggled through the last two snaps on my right foot. The butterfly was still buzzing happily away against my sensitized clit, which was trying to figure out if it was trying to come DOWN from orgasm, or go UP to it. With a sigh of relief I reached down between my legs and flicked the small switch to off.

Silence filled the cab of the truck, except of course for my little moans, whimpers, and still heavy breathing. Aftershocks raced along my nervous system, setting muscles jumping and twitching. I gasped and winced as I freed my nipples from the painful bite of the clothespins and pulled my shirt back down over my breasts. Slowly I mastered my body. The catalog of hurt included the arches of both feet, tension in my thighs, my hyper-sensitive clit, and my aching nipples. I turned the key in the ignition and managed to get out of that parking lot before the driver of that blue truck came out again.

I managed three miles. Traffic, despite being a lazy slow Tuesday afternoon picked up as I got closer to the freeway. Cars began to pass me, even a lot of trucks. I watched, my heart beating faster as each pickup approached, looking to see if it was blue.

There are a lot of trucks in Texas.

Read the rest of Breanne's Assignment: Blue Trucks
in Breanne Erickson's amazing e-book novel "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 3!" from Amazon.com and Barnesandnoble.com! Check it out today and find out just what happened.


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