Apologies and Blowjobs

It seems public apologies are in order. I've been pretty torn up about this, ever since I got a call from Michael on Monday afternoon. First of all, I'm so sorry that I've upset everyone, offended so many, and pretty much embarrassed myself on an order that makes being stripped naked in front of a downtown office building and begging for handouts to buy clothes seem petty.

I really am sorry.

I know I should have posted this apology yesterday, but the truth is, I didn’t know what to say. Should I explain what Master Barrett really meant? Should I try to excuse it? And to be honest, I’m the one who accepted the “assignment/punishment” so in reality, it is me who’s at fault, right?

First of all, I’m not this incredible beauty that everyone seems to think I am. I’ve ALWAYS been surrounded by girls prettier than me. Kari is a drop dead gorgeous blond with a figure to match. I was a brown haired, slightly mousy, a little too thin, freckle splattered girl with a permanent farmer’s tan. It took YEARS to get rid of that permanent coloration in college and I am embarrassed to say it’s back already. I dyed my hair red more as a way to stand out when next to Kari. But do you know what it’s like to stand next to your best friend at a bar or a party, and it’s always HER who gets approached first by guys? I do.

I was once asked what I look for in guys. That’s a tough question to answer. If you’re asking “what do you look for in the ‘targets’ you choose?” that would be easier. It’s not a particular color, or height, or especially weight. It’s attitude and cleanliness. I look for guys who look clean and take some pride in their appearance (even if they’re carrying a few extra pounds). After that, I hunt for guys who look like they spend their days playing World of Warcraft and reading Japanese Manga, the ones who like female super heroes, the ones who look like they never had a date with a girl before, the ones who wanted but never asked the girl of their dreams to dance with them.

What Master Barrett was TRYING to imply with his assignment/punishment, was for me to go after that one kernel I don’t like touching, and it has nothing to do with weight. That’s where I screwed up. It was a generalization, and I blew it. See, in my experience, overweight GUYS, and I mean REALLY over weight, like in excess of three hundred pounds, can be some of the nastiest, dirtiest dudes ever. But when I think about it, had Master Barrett ordered me to go into the men’s locker room at the gym, the only way I would have been able to handle that is if I were in the showers, helping with the soap. I would have been naked, washing each guy clean of the sweat and stink of their exercise and then took my time sucking and screwing and just generally doing my thing.

Remember that guy in the apartment from “Barter?” See? That’s what I was envisioning when I wrote this up! And Master Barrett never once used the word obese? See where I fucked up?

I’ve discussed this whole issue with Michael and we’ve put this one on hold. Sure, I did the first day, and I think everyone would appreciate that I performed two hand jobs and four blow jobs and that my three and a half hours at the truck stop just west of Katy were well appreciated. I picked truckers of course. They have their own private office/bedroom, are usually willing to help out a submissive girl with an assignment, and love having their cocks stroked, sucked, and fucked. The fact I was wearing flip flops, my duster, and nothing else probably helped too. I had my bag, complete with baby wipes, a spritzer bottle filled with water, foaming alcohol soap, and grapeseed oil. I also added my bottle of Stinging O and a pair of small alligator clamps.

That afternoon I wasn’t even aware I’d mortally offended so many people, but I think everyone would have been mollified when I decided the first driver I saw didn’t fit my profile. He was huge, a bear of a guy, but he was clean shaven, dressed smartly, and looked confident and savvy. Sure he was more than three hundred pounds, but remember I was looking for a duplicate of that guy from “Barter”.

It took twenty minutes for me to find a trucker that more closely matched that “slob” vibe I was hunting for. While he went into the stop, I got out of my truck and went over to his trailer and waited. He came back a few minutes later, staring at me in both surprise and suspicion. It took a few attempts for me to convince him I wasn’t a cop trying to “entrap” him. I guess the “No. Seriously. It’s FREE” was tough to really comprehend. I finally had to tell him I was a BDSM sex nympho humiliation pain slut and had been ORDERED to do this.

Up in his cab, in the back sleeping couch, I started by opening my duster. The RVP was still wrapped around my hips and I handed him the remote while I took out the alligator clamps and attached them to my nipples. Pain flooded up through my breasts but besides a little wince and the clench of my teeth, I handled it well. Then, while my nipples throbbed I dabbed a little Stinging O on my clit. Then my “client” thumbed the RVP to life and I almost came right then. I got out the baby wipes and spritzer bottle, cleaned my “client” and then proceeded to grapeseed oil his cock.

Obviously, I came before he did. His cum spurted out of his cock and across my breasts before I even had a chance to aim his hose away from me. I think that was mostly because I was shaking like mad from my own climax. After we both calmed down, I was thanked and as I packed up he offered me money. Sigh… I turned it down of course. I told him I was a slut. Not a whore.

There IS a difference.

And I moved on to the next driver. Except the next guy was in SERIOUS need of a shower. I cleaned him off as best I could, and then with nipples throbbing and clit burning and the RVP control in his hand, I began sucking on him. This guy decided that instead of just turning both the vibrator and rotating functions to maximum, he would turn them up and down. That helped. As crazy as it felt, the need never built up enough for me and I didn’t cum. He did though, right down my throat.

I came again on guy number three. And guy number four. And guy number five. Let’s face it. When you’re wearing a specialized sex toy that was DESIGNED to stimulate you into sexual nirvana, along with the painful throbbing pinch of a set of alligator clamps, AND your clit is not only dealing with the sting but also with a little bump that is ALSO vibrating, not cumming is sometimes not an option.

Yes, Michael. I KNOW I USED A DOUBLE NEGATIVE.

So at this point I’m not sure where to go from here. Do I finish the assignment? How do I “reclassify” the guys I’m supposed to be looking for? Obviously the word “obese” was the wrong way to go. And in hindsight, that wasn’t what Master Barrett intended me to look for. Do I need to find one of those skinny hobo guys with the back packs who hike the freeways? I mean… arggghhh… I’m sorry.

Technically I’ve got to do fourteen more guys before the end of the day on Friday. So what do I do? I’m going to let everyone else decide. And again, I’m really sorry if I offended everyone.

Guess I’m going to need another punishment, aren’t I?