Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Daily Assignment: 04/20/11 Orgasms At The Mall

Orgasms At The Mall


Breanne, you will go to the mall dressed in your stripper shoes, daisy dukes, and your loose white cut off t- shirt. Underneath your clothing you will have your vibrating anal beads inserted, you will wear your RVP, and you will have clover clamps attached to your nipples. You will wear your rubber bands on your feet. Prior to inserting the anal beads and RVP, and attaching the clamps, you will coat all three toys with Stinging O. When you arrive at the mall, both functions of the RVP, as well as the anal beads, will be turned to maximum. You will place two of your half pound weights on the chain between the clover clamps. You will then walk the mall with the goal of giving out to strangers more orgasms than you. When you orgasm, you are too give yourself 10 snaps of the rubber band to each foot. After every orgasm you are to remove the sex toys, re-lubricate them as well as your nipples, and continue your walk. You will remain at the mall for a minimum of three hours. Each orgasm must take place in a different location in the mall. – Master Barrett

I stood there for a second, trying to decide what to do. Duck and hide? Run? Turn and face the consequences? To be honest, I so rarely even SEE a car or truck on the little farm to market road south of my farm, let alone while I’m in the process of stripping! I stood there, completely naked, wearing just my flip flops, while the truck approached. Worse, it was coming from the north, meaning that the driver was about to get a really good view of my bare ass. I closed my eyes, hearing the thrum of slowing tires. I could hear the slight squeal of brakes and when I opened my eyes, the white pick up truck was stopped opposite mine, the driver, a grizzled looking guy in his fifties sat there staring at me with a big grin on his face.

“You doing all right missy?” he asked politely enough, though his eyes didn’t come close to my face. I sort of expected that to be honest. When you’re only wearing flip flops, what do you expect? It’s not like you can wave your hand in front of a guy’s face, point to your eyes and say “I’m up here.” Not like that. I put on a big pretend smile, pushing my acute embarrassment down into my stomach. Already that sensation was sinking and I could feel the wetness between my legs increasing. I wondered if he knew what the large flesh colored rubber thing sitting on the hood of my truck was.

“I’m fine, sir. Thanks for asking. Just getting changed,” I replied nonchalantly, as if this were a daily occurrence.

“Really.” His eyebrows went up.

I nodded emphatically this time. “Absolutely! See?”

I picked up my white tee shirt and pulled it down over my head. It covered my breasts, but just barely, leaving my entire midriff exposed. Worse, the shirt was loose, and stuck out, leaving quite a bit of room for roaming eyes to look UP my shirt. Talk about weird, right? I gave my audience another smile.

“I see.”

I could tell he wasn’t moving until I was finished, so I ignored the sudden pulse between my legs and picked up my RVP, (my Rotating Venus Penis!) and slipped it in, making sure the four inch cock was firmly buried inside my now quite wet, dripping, and already desperate pussy. A quick glance told me that my audience was now NEVER leaving, hoping that even MORE interesting things would happen. I decided to oblige him. Normally I put my vibrating anal beads in while half laying down in the cab. This time however I pulled them out of the bag on the hood, squirted a little grapeseed oil on them (I keep a bottle on hand at ALL times) and began pushing them one by one into my ass, facing away from Grizzly Adams in the truck, with one leg up on my truck’s bumper.

Nothing was said, even though it took maybe four or five minutes to get all eight balls seated inside my bottom. I’m not a fan of anything in my ass, but since the assignment I was embarking on required it, I really didn’t have a choice.

“You enjoy that sort of thing?” he asked.

I turned and looked over my shoulder. I shook my head. “Not really.”

He gave me a quirky look. “Then why do it?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I got told too.”

He didn’t reply, mentally digesting that as I grabbed hold of the daisy duke short shorts. They were blue denim, extremely tight, and I felt like I was constricting the blood flow into my legs as I pulled them up my thighs. I had to pull hard to get them over my hips, but I managed and then I buttoned them up. The remotes to both the RVP and the anal beads went into the back pockets and I smiled over at my audience.

“See? All dressed!” I announced.

Sort of like this, but in white!

He shook his head in wonderment. “Where were you when I was younger,” he asked, more of himself than me. Then he gunned the engine and took off. I stared, watching him go, my pussy contracting around the little cock of the RVP. I turned back toward my bag and got out my fuck me shoes, the four inch platform heels I affectionately and accurately call my “stripper shoes”. They went on my feet while my flip flops got tucked into the bag. Then, dressed appropriately, I went to the mall.

It was still closed, which was good, though the common mall area was already open to the public. Being Sunday, I knew it would be pretty busy come lunch time, and I was sort of dreading the last two hours of my three hour “tour”, especially dressed the way I was. I was a walking billboard for sexuality. You could visibly see the square base of the RVP through my shorts, right in my crotch, which of course would raise all sorts of questions (mostly WTF is that?), not to mention the fact that the shoes, super short tight shorts, and the cut off white tee shirt would draw the eye as well. I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties and the opportunities for potential exposure was high.

I sat in my truck for a few moments and reached into my bag. The first thing I got out were the rubber bands. I slipped off the fuck me shoes and popped a rubber band over each arch. Thank God they were flesh toned already. They were barely noticeable. Then I got out the Japanese Clover clamps. Clover clamps have these large thick metal mechanisms that are designed to tighten the more they are pulled on . I didn’t even have to lift my shirt in order to pinch the tight pincers onto my nipples. I shuddered in sexual ecstasy as the slight discomfort in my breasts electrified and intensified the sensation in my pussy. The chain between the clamps dangled down beneath the bottom of the shirt, stretching almost too my belly button. It was fairly obvious the chain was connected to my breasts. That’s where I hung the 1 lb. weight too. It pulled on my nipples and I could literally FEEL the clamps tightening a bit more.

I pulled out my bottle of Stinging O, lubed a finger, and dipped it into my shorts. In moments both my rear and my clit began tingling and I had to bite my lip as my pussy began throbbing in earnest. Another daub of lotion, applied to my aching nipples, added even more intensity to my immediate sexual need. I got out of the truck trembling, already close to orgasmic release, and I headed into the mall.

At the door, I pulled both remotes out of my pockets and turned them on, to maximum. The vibrating anal beads roared to life in my ass, sending ripples of bottom tightening need through my loins. The RVP began shaking, translating the back and forth movement into the four inch cock penetrating my depths, but also through the large rectangular base, the top of which was pressed to my clit. I thumbed the slider for the rotating function and the cock inside me not only vibrated, but began to spin. My jaw tightened as I took a few tentative steps.

And exploded orgasmically with a wet groan as I leaned against the wall, eyes closed, my entire lower half seemingly to pulse in wet rapid jerks. I tried (in vain) to keep my hips from jerking around in a lewd display of virtual fucking. I’d tell you that I recovered almost immediately afterward, but that would be a lie. I didn’t recover. I NEVER recovered. While I cam down from my climax, I only made it down a bit before the running, churning, pulsing, throbbing sexual toys inside me turned me around and started me back up the mountain. I opened my eyes and walked on, looking for the first available guy to actually suck or fuck or at least make cum.

There aren’t a lot of people at the mall an hour before opening on a Sunday. I passed one security officer who gave me a very long hard look, but then we kept moving and I didn’t get kicked out at that point. I approached two guys while walking along, both of them venders, and both, while obviously wanting to cum with me somewhere more private, felt they couldn’t leave their booths. What the hell is wrong with people these days? Fifteen minutes later I was ducking into a small shadowed alcove between two stores as orgasm number two rushed through me. I let out a soft whimper of sexual release as my thighs moved in and out and I turned against the wall, specifically the corner, and began rubbing my body up and down the façade.

Orgasm number three came twenty minutes later, which is surprising because it felt really quick, especially considering what was going on in my shorts. My walk had become rather stilted, mostly from the swaying of the chain connected to my breasts, the weight, and the intense stimulation being inflicted upon my nether regions. Not to mention the fact that I had to find a bathroom right after each orgasm. Got to apply a little bit of Stinging O, right?

It wasn’t till around eleven thirty that I managed to score my first “other orgasm” and it was just in time too, since while I was on my knees in the men’s bathroom sucking this one guy’s cock, I shuddered through my fourth orgasm. Evidently it improved my performance because moments later he came, spurting into my mouth, across my face, and splattering my white cut-off tee shirt.


I tried to clean it up as best I could, but admit I was a bit distracted by the fact that I was STILL being over-stimulated with sex toys. My orgasms were getting farther apart, but they were getting more intense too, and I was having more trouble keeping my game face on. Do you have any idea how hard it is to HIDE the fact that you’re having an orgasm while walking along in public? Or even the fact that you’re being sexually stimulated? I must have looked like I was drunk, weaving and waving, one hand on the wall keeping me semi-upright. All I really wanted to do was strip naked, lay on the floor, rip the toys out and off and let anyone who wanted fuck me.

And that’s just the physical torture. Let me explain the MENTAL. First of all, when you’re being constantly stimulated like that, your brain doesn’t handle it all that well. Sure, it feels good, especially at first and your body releases all sorts of pleasant chemicals into your blood stream. Your brain can handle both the stimulation and the resulting climax. But then, when that stimulation DOESN’T STOP, your brain starts to ask, “what the hell is wrong here?” It begins a conflict with your body’s nerves. Then, if you orgasm again, it really gets messed up. As your nerves begin to report over-stimulation, your brain suddenly starts thinking orgasm is bad. Now it my case, my brain was ALSO processing every look, every smirk, every leer, every grimace of disgust, every laugh, of everyone I passed. Even if they weren’t meaning me, my brain, in it’s hyper-sensitive state, interpreted it as commentary on my attire, my behavior, on me. I flushed with embarrassment. I cringed at the derogatory comments I thought I could hear. Then there was the pain, another aphrodisiac as far as I’m concerned. My nipples ached and throbbed. My clit was tender and sore. My ass felt bruised from all my tight and involuntary squeezing of the vibrating anal beads. My feet ached from the heels, and even the few times I had found a quiet out of the way bench to take off the shoes, I had only done it to snap those stupid rubber bands multiple times against my soles. I hurt. I was embarrassed. I was over-stimulated. And I was still cumming.

In hindsight, it was stupid. I walked past Julie’s jewelry store. I’m not sure if it was because I had hoped she’d be there, or because I hoped she wouldn’t, but she was and she saw me, her eyes widening at my attire. It was right before noon and the mall was quickly filling up with people, all of whom seemed to be staring at me. Perhaps it was the splatters of cum on my shirt, making a good portion of it semi-transparent. Perhaps it was the fuck me heels. Maybe it was the fact that my shorts were so tight they were waiting for the blood flow to my legs to get cut off. Maybe it was because I seemed to be having trouble walking, clearly in the throes of some sort of emotional or physical overload.

“What the fuck are you doing, slut?” demanded Julie as the she pulled the gate upward. I stumbled into the tiny store and she closed the metal grating behind me. “Back room. Now.”

I stumbled my way through the store, more from an approaching orgasm than any inability to walk gracefully in four inch platform heels with an included four inch heel. I opened the back door to the small storage room and office and Julie followed. Boxes lined the shelves and I stepped around the small chair and desk and stood near the one bare wall.

“Explain yourself,” she ordered.

So I told her everything. About how I was supposed to walk the mall dressed like this, stuffed with vibrating anal beads, my RVP, coated with Stinging O, my nipples clamped and weighted, rubber bands on my feet. I told her the goal was to give more orgasms to other people than to have myself.

“How many have you had?” Julie asked.

“Four. But I’m pretty close to number five right now,” I said, though I admit my voice was a little rough, trying to maintain control.

“How many orgasms have you give out?”

“One” I whispered.

“What happens if you screw up?” Julie asked.

“I get ass fucked a lot,” I replied.

Julie nodded, her lips pressed together. She lifted her hand and I flinched, expecting her to hit me. But instead her fingers went past my face and grabbed a roll of duct tape from the shelf near my head.

“Turn around,” she ordered. I complied, wondering what was about to happen. She roughly grabbed my left wrist and I heard a strip of tape being pulled from the roll. I felt her press it to my bare skin, right below my hand and then she brought my other arm down. I blinked in surprise. Suddenly I was BOUND, my hands behind my back! Tightly secured (and yes I DID try to get loose), Julie tore a smaller strip off the roll and placed it across my mouth. Then, bound and gagged, she pushed me into one darkened corner of the odd shaped back room. I found myself staring at a wall that contained a fuse box and a few steel pipes that went from floor to ceiling. I was pushed forward until my nose touched the pipe.

Then I felt Julie’s hands on my shirt, lifting it up, exposing both breasts. I almost fell when she unclipped the clamp from my right nipple. Blood rushed back into the crushed nipple and if she hadn’t pushed me against the wall I would have fallen. The orgasm that had been building inside me suddenly surged. I made little wailing noises through the duct tape across my mouth.

And then Julie threaded the chain connecting the clamps AROUND the pipe. Behind it actually. Then with dreaded efficiency, she squeezed the clover clamp open and before my nipple was even recovered, crushed it again tightly. I exploded, shaking in orgasmic bliss. I pulled away from the wall and pipe and the clover clamps tightened as I tugged. Pain lanced through my breasts.

When the orgasm was over I found myself leaning against the wall and pipe, clearly tired, clearly weak, and barely able to stand. But I had no where to go. Julie smacked me once on the bottom, declared she had to open the store, and to enjoy myself. When she was gone I looked around. There was a bracket holding the pipe to the wall just inches below where I was chained, so there was no way for me to sit down. Even had the office chair been close enough for me to snag with a foot, I wouldn’t have been able to do much more than kneel on it.

After ten minutes, I was seriously considering yanking out of the clover clamps. Had they been any other kind, I would have. Even if they had been the alligators, I was in so much agony that I would have done it. I never realized how being forced to maintain a single position, especially when only marginally bound, could hurt! My legs hurt. My breasts felt as if someone had pinned them to a board and I was being lifted by them. My clit felt as if someone had given it a rug burn. My ass hurt almost as much as when I’ve done large butt plug speed penetrations. My feet…oh god!

Julie appeared about fifteen minutes after I had come. Without a word, she stepped up behind me, grabbed my right foot and lifted it up as if I were a horse and she were checking my hooves. I’ve done that exact thing thousands of times. She slipped off my fuck me shoe, grabbed the rubber band, and started snapping. Pain exploded up from my sole. And she didn’t wait for me to recover either. I jerked, but her fingers tightened on my ankle and there was nothing I could do. I squealed, shaking, my breasts pulled taut as I moved my body away from the pipe. Ten snaps hurt like hell and then she put my shoe back on and picked up the OTHER foot.

I was crying by the time she put my stripper shoes back on and then she was holding my bottle of Stinging O, squirting a liberal amount on her finger. This went onto my clamped nipples, without releasing the clamps of course. Then she unbuttoned my shorts, yanked them down to my knees and lubricated my clit with enough lotion for it to slide down through my folds. A cool tingling exploded through my slit that quickly turned to the same sort of chemical heat my nipples were experiencing. I screamed and stamped my feet, but short of giving myself another hard yank on my breasts, nothing was accomplished.

She left me again. Orgasm six hit maybe twenty minutes later and my pussy was on fire. I was starting to drip snot that mixed with tears as she came back in, grabbed my right foot and…

An hour and a half. Eleven orgasms total at the mall, though I admit the last one was on the way out while being escorted by security to my car. Julie finally released me around one thirty, when I had experienced a total of ten orgasms. I could barely stand at that point. The soles of my feet were bright red. My breasts had become numb, and I hurt in places that I shouldn’t have thanks to the awkward position. Several times during my ordeal she had pulled the RVP completely out of my pussy, squirted Stinging O on the rotating vibrating cock, and jammed it back in. Even my pussy ached and my clit… well that was just so swollen and red that a single fingernail dragged across it would have had me jumping. Julie was smart and didn’t take the gag off until AFTER she unclipped my left nipple from the clamp and pulled me away from the pipe. She did let me sit down though, and while I cried and sobbed and tried to collect myself, she sucked on my hurt breast, tonguing it. Then when it appeared I had recovered, she clipped the clover clamp back on.

She cut the tape on my hands and I pulled the strip from across my mouth.

“You better freshen up a bit before you go out,” Julie told me. I nodded and moved to a tiny mirror on the wall by the door. My face was blotchy and Julie handed me a wet wipe. I cleaned myself up, pulled my shirt down over my clamped nipples, and got my shorts back in order. My shirt had dried so it was no longer semi-transparent in spots, but it was clear that SOMETHING had been squirted across my chest.

“Before you go…” Julie said suddenly, right before we left the office, “there’s just one more thing.”

I turned and looked at her, a quizzical expression on my face. Suddenly she lifted both hands and then brought them together as if she were going to box my ears. Except her target was lower. I felt the impact on the outsides of both breasts and the impact set the chain and clamps swaying. My breasts already hurt so much. I brought my arms up over them, holding myself, my teeth clenched tightly as tears once more came to my eyes.

“I didn’t want you thinking that I wasn’t going to hit you anymore,” Julie said. Then she grabbed me and kissed me, hard on the lips. “I want you. Call me for a date.”

Then I was pushed out of the back room. Another love tap on my ass sent me forward and I stepped out into a ridiculously crowded mall.

I was instantly the center of attention. I kept my arms folded across my chest, trying to hide my clamped breasts, my bared midriff, and the dangling weight. It had been ten or fifteen minutes since my last orgasm and all I could think about was “oh shit, I’ve got to make nine more people cum before I climax again!” I began stumbling down the corridor, glancing at shops and people, enduring stares and glares, licked lips and hungry eyes. At one point someone squeezed my butt cheek, but when I whirled I didn’t know who had done it.

It was too busy! My mind whirled. There were too many people. My skin crawled as I brushed against one person and then another. My nipples throbbed. I felt another orgasm building. My steps were halting, faltering and as I leaned up against one store façade, trying to calm down, to keep the next orgasm from laying me out on the floor.


I looked up. It was a security officer, is white shirt immaculate.

“What are you doing?”

Not “are you okay?” or “can I help you?” but “what are you doing?”

I summoned up every bit of strength. “Walking the mall, sir.”

He looked down at my attire. “Dressed like that?” he demanded.

I glanced around. People were staring. “Is there someplace close by that’s private where we could talk?” I begged.

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. A few moments later I followed him into a service corridor and then he unlocked a maintenance room. I looked around. More pipes. Lots and lots of pipes. I turned toward the security officer and explained what was going on. All of it. I showed him the clamps, lifting my shirt. I pulled out the remotes for both the anal beads and the RVP. I explained to him I had to make more people cum than I had, and I told him how short I was of achieving my goal. The only thing I left out was Julie and my hour and a half being sexually tortured in the back room of her store.

He stood there impassively, not even reacting to my story or exposed breasts. His arms stayed crossed, though his eyebrows went up a few times. Finally when I finished he shook his head.

“Sorry, Breanne. This isn’t a good place for this kind of thing. We’ve got kids here, there’s going to be complaints. You’re going to have to leave mall property.”

My eyes widened. “Please! I have to make more people cum!” I begged.

He shook his head. “Sorry. I’ll escort you to your vehicle.” He turned to leave.

“What if I refuse?” I demanded.

“Then I’ll call the police and have you trespassed and you’ll never be allowed to come to the mall again. Not to mention you might get arrested for public lewdness considering what you’ve got stuffed up inside you right now,” he said. “So let’s go.”

I hesitated. Not getting arrested was on my list of things to do that day, but with ten orgasms and only one returned, I just HAD to reduce the upcoming punishment.

“Wait!” I said. “Please! Please! Okay, I’ll leave. Just one thing.”

He turned and gave me a bored look. “What?”

“Let me suck your cock,” I said hurriedly. “Then I’ll go.”

He stared at me for a moment. I tried to look as sexy and desirable as possible. I lowered my eyelashes, crossed my ankles, and tried not show that I was getting close to another orgasm.

He took a step toward me, then another. When he was in touching distance I went to my knees. I just unzipped him, since he had those big belts on and I didn’t want to undo it. In moments his cock was hitting me in the face and I wrapped my mouth around it and did what I do.

He was much cleaner than guy number one. He tasted pretty good too, and when he came I managed to swallow it all. Then we straightened his uniform, I stood up, and he escorted me out of the mall.

In the parking lot I swayed, cried out and fell against him. He held me upright while the orgasmic rush exploded through me. I looked down. The crotch of my Daisy Dukes was soaked. I shuddered and he held me up. Finally I was able to take another step.

“You can’t drive like this,” he said as we got to my truck. I pulled the remotes out and for the first time in almost three hours, turned the motors to blessed stillness and silence. I gave my security guard a wan smile.

“I can drive now. Thanks for helping me to my truck.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling at me.

“See ya!” I said, then climbed into the truck. He watched as I got my keys into the ignition. Then he rapped on the window.

“Will I see you again?” he suddenly blurted.

I grinned. “Probably on my next assignment! But hopefully you won’t have to ask me to leave next time!”

Then I drove away.

Yes. I know. I violated all sorts of strictures on this assignment. Master Barrett was… uh… well… to be honest, he was pleased. Evidently I owe him something like 62 ass fucks that were to be originally delivered one per hour, but obviously I can’t deliver on THAT requirement. So he’s thinking up an alternate punishment for screwing things up so badly. In my defense, it was Julie’s fault. She fucking TIED me to a pipe for over an hour! She hit me too!

Um… please excuse me. I need to go call Julie actually. Got to arrange a date!

See ya!


  1. Wow, I've been hard from the start of this... Wish there were more girls like you!

  2. No Honey,

    Julie most likely save you from a more intense jail experience. Because not all security is as nice as you have found. She knew, what the security Officer knew, that kids and NPHS need to be kept to some distance. Personality, I think one of the orders you need to receive is to call Julie with a big thank you and a date of what kind she would like FOR THE WHOLE EVENING!(Please posted it in detail, please) You owe her, Bre.

    What ever Master Barrett Punishment is, I can't wait to read it, you should thank Julie that it was not worse.


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