Daily Assignment 052711: A Walk A Cantor A Gallop

A Walk, A Cantor, and A Gallop

Most people, when they’re asked “what do you think you’ll see in Texas?” think of horses. And longhorn steer. And in some spots, they’d be right. Granted, it’s a little unusual to see ten gallon hats and spurs in downtown Houston, but it wouldn’t be odd either. Me? Well I was born here actually. I’m a southern girl, Texas bred, Texas true. That means my cheeks have freckles, I know how to shoot a gun, and I ride horses.

Not every Texan rides horses and when you get off the plane at the airport, it’s not that likely you’ll see saguaro cactus either. Prickly pear… maybe. But there won’t be herds of tumbleweeds either, unless you get off the airport in Amarillo, or maybe El Paso. Let me tell you, dealing with a herd of tumbleweeds sucks!

Anyway, I have a horse. She’s a quarter and her name is Star. I’ve had her since I was about twelve, though I’d been riding since I was four. We have a few others, but we’re mostly out of the horse business since dad got hurt in the accident a few years ago. I try to ride all of them occasionally, but Star is still my favorite, and still mine.

So today, after finishing my write up for yesterday’s assignment, I told my mom I was going to go exercise Star and headed out to our barn. Of course, Star wasn’t there, not on a beautiful day like this, so after getting my gear together and throwing everything I needed into my bag, I chucked my saddle into the back rack on our ATV and rode out to the Mesquite field to find her. She came at a whistle and I gave her some apple pieces I had with me. Then I saddled her, cinched her, and then got myself ready for MY ride.

Master Barrett’s assignment was simple in its cruelty, rewarding in it’s nature, and meant that I needed to pretty much strip down completely. Of course I was in the middle of a field, with no one around, so that made things a lot easier when it came to being nude outside. I took off my shirt and bra, draping them on the ATV, and then rubbed in enough sunscreen to give my skin a slick sheen. Next I pulled off my boots, though I left my socks on. My shorts went next, followed by my panties, all of which were then left on the ATV. It was a bit… dicey… pulling out the vibroballs, mostly because my pussy didn’t WANT to be empty. But I forced my will on my sex, telling the little monster that it would shortly be stuffed with more than it really wanted.

I pulled on a pair of lose gym shorts, the kind you would NEVER really want to ride a horse in. Then I pulled a roll of string and a set of alligator clamps on a chain out of the bag. The alligator clamps are exactly what they sound like. To metal toothed jaws that bite down hard enough to leave little red marks. The chain between them sports two key ring loops, so that the chain can be doubled and shortened, which it currently was. Lastly, the string was tied to one of the clamps, which you’ll see, made for some interesting wearing.

I cupped my left breast and pinched open the first alligator clamp. I admit, I have a love/hate relationship with these things. They hurt like hell. But when I wear them, my orgasms are like twice as powerful and quick to cum. I positioned the little metal jaw so that the clamp was upward, the nose pointing downward. Slowly it closed and a massive surge of pain shot through my tit like getting pinched by some evil bully girl in grade school, except right on the tip of your breast. I gasped and winced and even said “OWWW!”

Star looked at me, and then pulled some green piece of crap out of the ground and ate it. Horses. Go figure.

The other clamp went on just like the first and in moments I was standing there, my nipples throbbing and hurting in the sun, bare breasts totally exposed to my horse.

I unspooled the string and strung it over my bare shoulders and across the back of my neck. I pulled out a pair of scissors, cut a generous amount of string off, and then slipped the end through the clamp attachment for the other alligator clamp. I pulled the string tight, then tied a clove hitch, creating a sort of “Alligator Clamp Bra” out of string, metal chain, keychain loops, and two rather vicious biting metal jaws, chewing on my nipples. Then, in what perhaps was the cruelest thing demanded of me by the assignment, I tightened up the string, drawing my breasts up by not only the tip, but by the TEETH of the alligator clamps. Worse, the shortened chain between the steel piranhas on my tits pulled my breasts together, creating cleavage, but in a way that no bra from Victoria’s Secret ever did, trust me.

It hurt like hell.

I took a deep breath, then wished I hadn’t. I turned back toward my ATV and bag and pulled out the last item needed. I carried it over to Star, trying not to move my upper body too much. Not that it helped. Even with the string not as tight as I’ve had it, or as short, my breasts were still heavy and being supported by the bites. Talk about OUCH. I had slipped my boots back on after the gym shorts, so it was easy to put a foot up into the stirrup, grab the horn, and pull myself upward. Even with the object in my hand it wasn’t hard. Of course I pulled my breasts in a number of awkward and painful directions, but all in all, a job well done.

Settling down into the saddle was a relief, but only for a moment. I was wet of course, between the legs, mostly from the vibroballs. I stood up in my saddle and reached down between my legs. The loose shorts also made it easy for me to move aside the material and touch parts of me that usually you don’t touch outside of the privacy of your own home. For me, it was all about moving the tip of a twelve inch rubber rocket ship shaped dildo into position, buttressed by the saddle itself. Slowly I let it spear into me and I had it in at about six inches before I wedged it between my cervix and the saddle. Then I settled back down.

Don’t let anyone tell you that girl’s are built to handle large sized cocks with ease. We aren’t. Well, not exactly. Sure, we stretch inside and we can ADJUST, but if you just ram twelve or fourteen inches (like Quincy!) into something that isn’t USED to taking it, then you can hurt yourself. So I worked my Core Driller in slowly. Sort of. Okay, I did it sort of fast because hurting myself isn’t exactly something to be avoided. In fact, most people I know WANT me to hurt.

I’m also going to be the first to say that sitting saddle with a 12 inch rocket shaped solid rubber dildo inside you can be agony. It was like trying to take a fence post up there. Or a fisting, except the guy wants to use his foot and go up to his thigh. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but I’d be lying if it didn’t take my mind off the agony in my nipples, at least for a few minutes.

So settled as much as I was going to possibly be, I gave Star a little kick and let her move off at a walk.

Oh My Fucking God.

Have you ever ridden a horse? If you have then you know what it’s like. It’s not a smooth ride, especially at a walk. Every step causes you to sway back and forth, and if you’re not sitting right (like with a twelve inch rubber cock shoved up your pussy) you shift your weight with every step. Now, if your breasts happen to be supported by nothing more than two evil cruel metal toothed vices, and are then SWUNG left and right, you quickly go from “oh wow this is highly uncomfortable” to “oh my fucking God this fucking hurts!”

And if you are a nympho humiliation pain slut on top of it all, that “hurt” goes to sexual urgency, need, demand, “oh god please fuck me now!”

I kicked Star up into a canter. This changed the motion dramatically. Rather than gentle slow painful side to side movement, yanking on my tits and shifting the dildo inside me, we went to up and down pistoning motions. This caused my breasts to bounce, the down swing yanking painfully on each nipple as the teeth of the alligator clamp bra dug in to my nubs. Of course this REALLY changed how the Core Driller dildo worked inside me. Before it sort of churned me into sexual need. Now it was PUMPING me into it. Have you ever ridden a bike over really bump gravel, or hit a pot hole? Yeah.. imagine a road of nothing but potholes. Now get rid of the shocks and imagine the frame of the car is attached to a pole that goes right to your crotch. THAT’S what it felt like. Star would canter and I’d go up, sliding a full four or five inches off the rubber cock, then I’d slam back down, impaling myself as deep as humanly possible, my nipples burning in agony, until I completed the cycle, coming back up. It was better than a machine fuck and while I’d still prefer a human stallion between my legs, this was… impersonal, totally emotionless. Star had no idea she was causing me such consternation, pain or sexual sensation and it was this detachment from what I was experiencing that made it so awesome. If a guy had been fucking me like this, he’d have slowed down, hoping to make things easier on me, or speeded up, making them harder. As it was I had control of Star’s speed and I was right at this level where it was just… super intense but not beyond what I could handle. I came after a few minutes, screaming my brains out and sending rivulets of juice streaming down my thighs all the way into my boots.

I slowed Star to a walk and that reduced some of the immediate sensation, but after a few minutes I wished two things. One, that I had lubed the Core Driller with some oil, and two, that each step my horse took wouldn’t swing me so much. It wasn’t that I was motion sick or anything, it’s just that every swing tugged painfully on my breasts.

Do me a favor. If you aren’t reading this at work, reach up and pinch your nipples for me. Hard. But also pull UPWARD on them. Now, while you’re pulling up, push them together. Hurts a bit yeah? Now with both hands tug left, now right. You can even do this if you’re a guy. Hell, if you want to sort of come close, put some nipple clamps on. You don’t have to use alligator clamps and you don’t have to do it very long. Just for a couple of seconds even. I just want you to have an inkling of what this felt like. The CLAMPS support the weight of my breasts and that just fucking hurts. I’m not exactly an A cup either, just in case you haven’t noticed.

Hey look! Original art by Michael!

After about ten minutes of pussy churning, nipple torturing walk, I picked up the pace again and we trotted around the field. The bouncy up and down movement typical of a cantor came, but at a slightly slower pace. Of course this set me right down the path to orgasm number two. Part of that was because my legs were spread widely, to seat the horse, but also because I lifted up slightly, thus causing the Core Driller to slip out about four or five inches, only to be slammed, yes SLAMMED, back into me at the next step. Ever seen those fucking machines on those online videos? Yeah. Think that, except in a more natural setting, and with more penetration. And sitting straight up.

I think I was able to handle the trot for about four or five minutes before I kicked Star into a cantor, and then into a full out gallop. Honestly, the gallop REDUCED the stress on my body. I wasn’t jerking around as much, nor swaying, and while there was still some decent pumping of the Core Driller in and out of my pussy as I rode, the motion smoothed out. The wind whipped in my face and then I cried out and yanked up hard on the reigns. We came to a stop which forced me down into the saddle. That movement caused the Core Driller to be forced up into me even deeper. And that forced me to cum. Violently.

You know what crossed my mind at this point? At least when the endorphin and adrenaline high had passed?

Too bad I don’t have those vibrating anal beads in my ass! Can you believe that? Why would I think that?

I walked Star back toward the ATV, feeling every step she took like a painful slap across… well… across the parts of me that were hurting. To be honest, even my pussy felt a bit abused. The Core Driller is about as big as I ever want to go when it comes to fake cock. Twelve inches is pretty impressive and bigger than most cocks out there by a long shot. A foot of black rubber embedded in my abdomen isn’t exactly EASY to handle. My petals are bruised, there are tender spots on my insides, and I suspect that my cervix is bruised too. As we rode back, I slipped my boots out of the stirrups, leaned back in the saddle, and checked things out.

My labia were bright red. I know because the stupid gym shorts had literally scrunched together and had become a single strand of cotton that didn’t even keep the Core Driller in me. I slipped the crotch of the gym shorts aside and my fingers slipped through the copious wetness soaking my shorts, saddle and crotch. I tugged the Core Driller out from the saddle a bit and pulled the massive rubber cock out about three quarters of its length. That felt amazing and I couldn’t help putting it slowly back in. Then I pulled it out again. In out, in out, in out. Geeze, it’s like an Aggie sex manual, isn’t it? I spent a good fifteen minutes with one foot propped up on the saddle in front of me, wedged against the horn, while I slowly, gently, and deliberately masturbated on horseback.

LOL, that’s one of the history books, right?

But as I got close to my orgasm I realized what I wanted again. So I put my leg down, pushed the Core Driller as deep inside as I could, wiggled my ass on the saddle to wedge everything in, and kicked Star hard.

We took off. And by we, I mean both of us. Star went horizontally across the field as horses are wont to do. I took of vertically, exploding like the rocket shaped dildo inside me and screaming out loud as I was launched into orgasmic orbit. With my chest heaving, I turned Star around, cantered back to the ATV, and slid out of my saddle. I barely caught the Core Driller as it slipped out of my pussy. I’m lucky I caught it at all. It was… well… let’s just say that I was still very very wet.

My shorts were ruined. Well, maybe not ruined, but they were going to need a serious wringing out followed by a washing. Or not. Anyone want to buy a pair of pussy juice soaked gym shorts that smell like both horse, vanilla soap and strawberries, and sex? LOL… wouldn’t THAT be a fun online auction? LOL.

I used the unsoiled portion of my shorts to dry off… well… as dry as I could manage. Then I took off the alligator clamps. Thank God I was in the middle of an uninhabited field with no one nearby because I screamed and clapped my hands to my breasts, hunching over as the blood rushed back into my chewed up crushed nipples. When I had somewhat recovered and the pain had been replaced with a decidedly uncomfortable throbbing ache, I examined myself. Both nipples sported a row of angry looking red welts, though one had an actual cut. There was a single drop of drying blood on that spot and I trembled slightly. Then I put on my shirt. I couldn’t bring myself to put on my bra too. There was just no way. Even the shirt just HURT.

Then I grabbed my vibroballs, slipped them both in, and turned them on low. My regular panties and denim shorts went on next, and then I removed Star’s saddle. It wasn’t long before I was back at the barn.

There is one little end note to this story. When I was done, I had quickly gotten on line and Master Brandon asked about my afternoon. I told him what I had done, and how the alligator clamps had cut me. He asked if I had sanitized things...

Uh. No. Stupid me, right?

“Breanne, that’s not smart. Go get bowls, big enough to fit each of your breasts in. Then also get a bottle of rubbing alcohol.”

You can see it, can’t you? You know what he made me do?

Yeah. You can. He did. And oh my God it fucking stung so bad.

It might be time for another ride… complete with my Alligator Clamp Bra.

Daily Assignment: 052611: Bar Edges

I know most of you were expecting to hear all about my Saturday afternoon with Julie and about how they (yes THEY) tied me to the coffee table, tried to Chinese Water Torture me, and ended up proving that a stupid soda bottle and an ice pick don’t work for homemade dungeons. Of course, I was still tortured, and let me tell you that hot wax in place of dripping water, along with repeated beatings to break the cooling wax off and expose skin (and clit) for another drip drip dosage is… uh… a lot of fun.

But that’s NOT the tale I’m telling. Yes, I’m working on it. But I’m eight pages in and I just sort of lost my mojo for writing it. So I’m putting it on the back burner while I deal with YESTERDAY’S quickie assignment. Maybe this will get me going, right? Of course I have ANOTHER quickie assignment today. Guess were’ back to DAILY assignments, aren’t we?

Well, I’ll make this short and sweet.

Of course it was Master Barrett, who plotted and conspired against me. The idea was simple. Dress in white short shorts, a pink bikini top, and my eight inch platform fuck me stripper shoes, along with my four inch butt plug rammed into my ass and my Husky dildo filling up the other half of my lower body. That’s a LOT of rubber shoved up inside one person, but I’ve had that in before, so it wasn’t THAT bad. Just a bit uncomfortable. Of course, I wasn’t allowed to orgasm… at least not until AFTER I completed the assignment.

The assignment was to go out for lunch, a restaurant of my choice, and sit there and eat my lunch. Oh yeah, and to edge three times.

What’s an edge? Simple. The edge is the point between climax and desperation. In order to edge, you have to masturbate right to that line, but don’t cross it. Don’t fall off the orgasmic cliff. It’s all about will power and desperation and being careful. It’s easy the first time. It’s harder the second. The third… well… you’re lucky if you catch yourself scrabbling in the dirt, holding on to those little vines to keep yourself falling into the orgasmic abyss.

There were lots of choices for various restaurants, but my attire limited me dramatically. Seriously, the shorts were so tight and crawling up my ass that you could actually see my balls. Yes, I said that right. MY BALLS. My husky dildo actually has a half set of balls at the base. I suppose it’s so that you can stand it up, but on me, it almost looked like I was packing some hardware. BRASS hardware. LOL. Of course, there was also the fact that I was wearing a bikini top, which isn’t that odd down in Galveston, but isn’t that common up where I live, despite only being an hour away.

Oh… and the shoes. Those are almost like bright neon lights exclaiming “SHE’S A SLUT!” So as you can imagine, every eye was on me the moment I walked in.

I choose an off-brand pub. Not going to say where, but just know that there was lots of dark wood, a mostly empty dining area, hard chairs at square tables, and a couple of booths. Of course my first problem was where to sit. I had the whole place to choose from practically, since there were like only four other customers (all guys, all staring). Then I was approached by one of the staff, a nice looking guy in a black apron.

“Can I help you?” he asked, staring at… well… everything but my face.

I smiled, not that it was noticed. Oh well. “Yeah, I’m just here for lunch,”… amongst other things.

He glanced up at my smile. “Lunch? Yeah… all right,” he replied. “Follow me, please.” I followed him into the place and he led me straight to one of the bar tables. Oh shit…

“Um… are any of the dining room tables available?” I asked politely. The bar table was right out in the open and rather exposed. Tough to masturbate three times to the edge of orgasm while in plain view.

He gave me an odd look. “We don’t open the dining area until four.”

I took a deep breath and nodded. I climbed up into the chair, feeling the husky dildo shift around inside my pussy. I was already horny of course and that helped.

“So… do you work for Treasures?” he asked.

Treasures is a strip club a little farther down the road. I guess I looked like one of the working girls there. Do they actually go out in their stripper shoes? I sorta doubt it.

I shook my head. “No,” I replied, but I didn’t say anything else. No reason to get into THAT conversation, right? He handed me a menu.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked. I ordered a diet soda and he walked away.

I was now sitting in the middle of the bar floor, about twenty feet away from the bar itself. There were about fifteen tables, each with two or four chairs around them, all elevated, making sure that everything from the waist down was totally exposed. The seats were not cushioned. There was not only the bar tender, but the waiter and I suspected a cook too, though in a moment that was confirmed as someone told him I was in the bar and he came out to ogle me. Worse, the air conditioner was on and the waiter had stuck me right under the vent. In about four seconds my nipples hardened into little granite pebbles that were VERY visible under the thin bikini material. I shifted in my seat which of course drove the butt plug in a little deeper and shifted the Husky dildo around some more.

My diet soda came and I ordered a burger. Nothing too complicated right? Plus fries. Got to have my carb! Anyway I was already feeling very… uncomfortable, but in a sexual way. I was the center of attention, everything was exposed (unwillingly, but exposed nonetheless) and I needed to complete three edges before I was allowed to cum.

There are always a couple of options for edging. You can actually put your hand down there, which is of course the fastest easiest way. You can do it THROUGH your shorts if you are okay with a clitoral orgasm, which I was. Or you could wiggle your way to an orgasm.

Or you can eventually do all of the above.

I started off with a gentle but occasional thrust of my hips, moving my ass in a sort of rolling motion where my skin didn’t move, but everything INSIDE me did. This sent a sort of ripple of pleasure through my body that wasn’t quite specific on one spot, but sort of moved the dildo and the butt plug around. I waited maybe ten or fifteen seconds, looking around the bar and sipping my drink, and did it again, except twice in rapid succession.

This went on for about ten minutes and let me tell you, that by the time my burger was brought out, I was incredibly desperate. But being ready and willing to rip not only your own clothes, but the clothes of your waiter off is NOT what edging is. Edging is when your orgasm has actually started and you stop it. Seriously, even guys can do it, (except much harder because guys don’t have the same will power or strength girls do. Don’t believe me? Try it. Masturbate right now guys… rub that cock thinking about me kneeling down to give you a blowjob. Rub it till you can feel the pulse and you’re going to cum. NOW STOP! Take your hand away… see the drop of cum on the tip, leaking out? Feel like you’re going to explode? Yeah… I bet you came anyway.)

I took a bite of my burger, put one hand down in my lap, and in combination with the varied hip thrusts, began to press on my clit through the shorts. Due to the nature of my position, this required me to spread my legs a little and I DID notice that one of the other customers was getting an eyeful and had readily realized that I was TRYING to masturbate.

Of course, I wasn’t trying, I was doing, and a few minutes later I clenched my jaw, held my breath, and tried desperately not to cum. It worked, but only barely, and I think practicing edging helps too. I’m a professional too and I’m sure that makes a difference. But no matter what I stiffened in my chair, let a shudder run through me and just endured the tension until I felt the urgency ebb slightly. A moment later, disaster averted, I went back to my burger.

I’ve cum in a lot of weird places before, and I have to admit there is something… titillating about doing it in public. It’s embarrassing of course, being on display like that, making a fool of yourself, but for me it’s a turn on, which of course makes an assignment like edging even MORE trouble. I’m already wet, already desperate, already wanting… and now I have to masturbate to the very edge of orgasm and then stop?

Thank God I didn’t have the VIBROBALLS in! Forget the edge, I would have dived off the cliff!

I was halfway through my burger and I put it down. I was reasonably sure I could edge again. It had been five or six minutes since my last near miss with the BIG O Asteroid. Maybe I could do it again? I started my little chair dance, that sort of jerking wiggle, timed to one or two per minute, and then picking up to about twenty. As I got more and more turned on, the less aware I was of my surroundings. One hand went back down between my legs and it was like a light switch going on. Suddenly I was soaked, the front of my shorts becoming translucent as I leaked juice copiously. Of course the other problem was that I moved a lot quicker toward that edge. That’s the problem with edging of course. The more often you do it, the better likelihood that you’re going to slip and fall to your orgasm. So as I pressed and rubbed my clit through the thin white material I found myself on a down hill slope, moving very fast.

I’m guessing you’re placing bets on whether I came or not, aren’t you. Well I didn’t. I stopped myself, but it was SO hard and I was breathing hard and letting out little moans of desperation. I was also the floor show as the cook, the waiter, and three of the four patrons were all trying to watch me without LOOKING like they were watching me. I didn’t realize this until I opened my eyes again though and caught them at it.

My seat had gotten a bit uncomfortable, and that’s because I had literally soaked my shorts. I was very sticky and very hot and bothered. I was sort of at the point where my hips would need conscious and specific brain power to keep them still. My pussy wasn’t any better off, convulsing and squeezing the husky dildo like a hungry monster. What I REALLY wanted to do was peel off my shorts, yank the Husky dildo out, and then ram it back in, repeatedly. Or even better, get volunteers. Real cock is ALWAYS preferable.



I tried to eat the rest of my hamburger, giving myself TWICE the amount of time to calm down. It didn’t help much. I was still desperate. Still horny. Still soaked. My thighs kept opening and closing and I couldn’t stop squeezing the Husky Dildo inside me. Hell, even the butt plug got some pretty good massaging.

I finished my burger and fries, with a full fifteen minutes between my last edge and the one I was about to do. Finally, with not much more excuse to BE at the restaurant, I sipped my diet soda, purposefully wiggled my hips (instead of the regular and unconscious virtual fucking they had been engaged in since the last edge) and got down to business.

I wanted this one to be fast and hard. So with two fingers pushing and rubbing against my clit, I worked myself rather noticeably onward. My hips rocked. My clit seemed to burn underneath the shorts and in short order I found myself shuddering, my hips thrusting, my fingers moving in little circles over my clit, mouth open, eyes closed. I brought my left hand up to the bikini top and found my left nipple, and pinched.

Then I stopped.

Let’s describe this metaphorically. Imagine me running across this meadow, stark naked. At the far end of the meadow is a drop off, a perilous cliff. I’m running straight for it, as hard and as fast as I can. Twenty feet away, instead of slowing down, I suddenly put on a burst of speed. Ten feet from the edge I start to stop, but I fall down. I slide through the dust and the dirt, fingers scrabbling to hold on as my forward momentum drives me right toward the edge. My feet go out into the air, then my knees. My bottom suddenly is unsupported and I feel myself dropping, giving in to the force of orgasm. My breasts scrape against the rock and dirt and sharp little plants, my fingers digging in to the loose soil as my torso begins to drop.

And then I catch myself. A single root, a vine, a rock… whatever. I dangle from the edge of cliff, chest heaving, straining, crying out, wincing, teeth clenched.

“Geeze girl, just go ahead and do it if you have to.”

I opened my eyes and saw the cook at the end of the bar. He was leaning forward on his elbows, his dark hair tucked up under a white hat. He was clean shaven, but older. The waiter stood next to him and barked out a laugh.

I gave them an intense stare and then swiveled in my seat. The first thing I did was pop the material of my bikini top up, exposing both breasts. That got EVERYONE’s attention and two of the other customers got up and moved to the bar. Then I unbuttoned my shorts and did a half jump in my seat as I tugged them down far enough to get to my clit. Of course it also meant that the Husky dildo base and balls were now plainly visible.

“Holy shit! No wonder she’s horny!”

With one hand on my breast, tweaking and pinching a nipple and the other between my legs, hips thrusting forward and my feet splayed wide, I proceeded to let go of that vine and plummet, falling into the abyss. With a sigh of relief I cam loudly, squirting more juice that this time splattered the chair and the floor.



“Feel better?” the cook asked as I calmed down, still the center of attention. I felt MUCH better.

“Yeah… that was a relief!” I gushed verbally, adding my flowing words to the moisture I had already spurted.

“Need another drink?” the waiter asked. I nodded gratefully.

Not much more to tell. I drank my soda, moved to the bar and chatted with two of the customers, the waiter, and the cook. Then I took each of them into the women’s restroom, one at a time, for a quick blowjob. The cook got a bit more. I came two more times, which was really nice.

But it wasn’t till I left that one of the guys complimented me on my attire.

“I love the way you can see the black base of the butt plug right through your shorts. I wondered what that was before you even sat down the first time!”

I blinked. Oh my god… you mean you could see it BEFORE I soaked my shorts?.....

He grinned happily and patted my ass.

I guess there’s more than one way to be on the edge…



Next Assignment: A Proper Ride (Assigned by Master Barrett) Breanne, you will arrange to go for a horse ride around your farm today. Your riding attire will be a pair of loose shorts, the Core Driller dildo, and your alligator clamp and string bra. No panties. No shirt. You will continue your ride until you have cum three times.

NHPS Pushups: An Explanation

NHPS Pushups aren't easy. And it isn't exercise either. It's torture, and you better understand that. To do one, the first thing you have to have is a tack mat. Mine is a 1/4 inch piece of rubber, that's 12x24 inches. Then what you do is buy the right tacks, you know... the sharp little pointy things with flat heads? and hammer them all into the mat. Mine was done by a friend from the hardware store. What I got was a one by two foot spiked piece of hell. The tack points (which are relatively sharp) stick up out of the rubber by about half a millimeter. Not much, grant you, but it's enough. Oh trust me it's enough.

So after you have your tack mat, you go someplace relatively private, which for me, means the barn. My mom RARELY comes out to the barn and my Dad can't without help. So for me, it's a pretty safe haven to do stupid shit.

There are two ways to do NHPS Pushups. Both require you to do it sans shirt and bra. So once you are bare breasted, you have to options. The first, the original way to do a NHPS Pushup, is to get in a normal pushup position over the tack mat. Obviously, the mat needs to be right under your chest. Now, unlike a normal pushup, where you keep yourself up and lower down and then back up, a NHPS Pushup requires you to lower yourself slowly down until ALL YOUR WEIGHT IS ON THE MAT. Yes. And yes it hurts. You also have to lift up your hands and arms. It's like a zillion pins all being lightly pressed against your skin and trust me, its especially painful on the nipples. Once you've completely mashed and pinpricked your breasts, you lift back up and do it again. And again.

You do it just like this, except over the tack mat.

The second way to do to NHPS Pushups is called "EXTREME NHPS PUSHUPS". Yes, you are supposed to capitalize the words. To do EXTREME NHPS PUSHUPS, you get something at least two feet high and put it down where your feet are supposed to be. Then you get in a pushup position, but with your feet on the object. I use hay bales. Then once your feet are elevated you do the EXTREME NHPS PUSHUP, dropping down and putting all your weight (now including most of your leg weight) on your breasts. Then you lift your arms and hands, try not to wiggle, and perforate and tenderize your breasts.

Of course there are other "additions" you can have your Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut do of course. Thick rubber bands around the base of her breasts, or rope really make the whole thing hurt more, but doesn't actually cause any real damage. I've been "cut" before, but not much, not even enough to use a bandaid, and I always wash the mat with alcohol when I'm done. Other fun things to do... lemon juice right after the NHPS Pushups, clamps, or heck, make sure your nympho humiliation pain slut is stuffed with something seriously devious while she has to do them. I've literally CUM while in the middle of NHPS Pushups.

So there you have it. A good explanation of NHPS Pushups! Enjoy!

Patience

Good things cum to those who weight...

An Interview With Breanne at tinaslut Blog!

Just did an interview for the tinaslut Blog! Mostly its some personal info about me if anyone is curious... but you should also check out tina's blog. It's really kinda cool! And yes, there are real pics of me so everyone stop harassing me about them!

Bre

05/20/11 Alligator Clamp Bra

Alligator Clamp Bra

05/20/11

Last Assignment: Breanne – For today’s assignment you will start off by dressing in the shortest skirt you own. You will not wear panties. You will also wear the tiniest halter top you own. Do not wear a bra. You may wear whatever footwear you desire. There is a bit of preparation as well. Prior to beginning your assignment you will retrieve your alligator nipple clamps. You will find some thin string, not rope and you will measure out enough string so that it is long enough to run from one nipple to the other, behind your next. You will then cut that length from the string. Tie one end of the string to one of the clamps. You will thread the other end of the string through the opposite clamp, and tie the string with an adjustable clove hitch, thus enabling you to shorten the length of the string.

With your “alligator clamp bra”, and dressed appropriately, you will visit your local farmer’s market or upscale grocery store. Prior to going in, remove any sex toy from your pussy as well as remove your halter top, and put on your new bra. You will then adjust the length of the string so that the “alligator clamp bra” pulls upward on your breasts so that the entire weight is supported. You may then put your halter top back on.

Go into the store and purchase three vegetables that are large and vaguely dildo shaped. When you get back to the truck, you will roll down the window and proceed to masturbate with each vegetable in turn. When you cum, you will make your usual announcement. You MUST orgasm with each vegetable before you may either remove the alligator clamp bra or leave the parking lot.

Should you attract attention, you may ask the person to unclip your nipples. You may choose to reward the person with sexual services if you desire.

Sometimes, assignments that seem simple sure have a lot of specific instructions. I think I could have made this one a lot easier. Seriously, it doesn’t take that much to figure out how to make an alligator clamp bra.

And talk about ouch. Damn it hurt too. Plus there were complications.

Around eleven am, right before lunch, I was out in the barn measuring string. I was dressed in blue denim shorts, bra, and a tee shirt, but I wasn’t wearing panties. Instead I was stuffed with my Rotating Venus Penis, a peculiar sex toy that provided enough stimulation to usually have me floating through orgasmic clouds. As Michael once teased another author: the O-zone! LOL. Anyway, it had already been a tough morning for me. Since I had been wearing the RVP since five am, I had been dealing with direct and powerful sexual stimulation every twenty five minutes or so. At the top of every hour I had to turn the RVP to full power, both the vibrating and rotating parts. For five minutes. So not only did I have a chunky plastic and rubber base shaking like mad against my clit and via the four inch cock, inside me, but I ALSO had to deal with said four inch cock SPINNING.



I have trouble with the spinning part. Five minutes is USUALLY too much for me to handle. I wasn’t supposed to cum either, not until my assignment, but I had already had four that morning, which while feeling good, wasn’t good for me or for the upcoming task. Of course, part of the reason I had difficulty handling the top of the hour torment, was because the bottom of the hour torment was five minutes with just the vibrator on full power. That kept me sexually ready, stimulated, and needy, so by the time I got back around to the top, it was likely for me to fail.

I feel like everyone is setting me up to fail. These assignments are like practically DESIGNED for me to fuck up. Gosh guys, it’s not like you NEED a reason to punish me!

So at eleven, I was out in the barn, trying to measure string. This would have been simple had I not been shuddering my way up the mountain of orgasm, close to reaching the pinnacle. I took the spindle down, pressed one end to my breast, then draped it over my neck and down the other side. I sort of marked it with my thumb, and then pitched over in bliss as the explosion inside me. I ended up on the floor, the string still in my hands, trying to endure the last forty seconds of direct stimulation left in my “five minutes”.

When my watch alarm beeped loudly, I used the remotes to silence the mechanical sex monster between my legs. Then, blinking the daze of sexual release from my eyes (as well as my fifth orgasm of the morning) I grabbed my box knife, and cut the string. The alligator clamps were already out on the work bench and thanks now to the silence of the RVP, I made short work of tying the string to the nipple clamps. Now, besides the thin metal chain running from one metal toothed jaw to the other, there was also a much longer strand of nylon string, forming a sort of neck support. I played with the thought of shortening the chain too, making it an actual “bra” and then grabbed an unused key ring, splitting the metal and threading it through two of the links, thus shortening the chain by a good seven inches and making it so my breasts would not only be pulled upward, but together as well. Got to have some cleavage, right? Geeze was THAT a mistake.

After lunch on Wednesday I headed out, still dressed like I was that morning. I pulled over to the side of the road, just like usual, right after turning out of my farm’s entryway. I was the only vehicle in sight, which was ALSO usual. So I got out of the truck carrying the skirt and halter top, and went to the front grill.

I took my shirt off first, folding it gently and laying it on the hood. Next came my bra, folded as nicely as you can fold a bra, and laid gently beside the shirt. To be honest, this is my favorite part. Naked from the waist up, not breaking the law, the wind blowing against my skin… seriously, if you haven’t been naked outdoors before, it’s an amazing experience. Kari and I actually played around with becoming nudists back when we were seniors in high school, mostly because I was naked around her so much. We ended up NOT doing it because Kari decided she didn’t want to have to explain the bruises and welts on me. Clothes ARE good for hiding that sort of stuff from your parents and other people.

The road was still empty and likely to remain that way, so I shucked out of my blue jean shorts and stepped out of them. I was wearing flip flops anyway, my chosen footwear for this adventure. Sure, I could have worn my fuck me shoes, but those things hurt my feet and draw attention like flies to dead meat. Uh… poor metaphor. Sorry. Anyway, I figured that I was going to have enough issues with just the Alligator Clamp Bra to worry about.

I left the RVP in. It was currently off, but wouldn’t be in a few minutes as the clock’s hands got closer to twelve. But I didn’t quite have to worry about that just yet. I grabbed my skirt and pulled it up. The instructions had dictated I wear my shortest skirt. Well, my shortest skirt happens to formerly be a skort. It’s black lycra and was given to me when I was seventeen, by a sadistic teenage dominatrix who got her pleasure by watching me walk through the mall dressed like a whore, making me bend over occasionally to pick crap off the floor, exposing the fact that prior to putting on the little black fake skirt, she had taken scissors to the “short” part of the skort, making it into exactly what it looked like.

As a result I had two choices. I could wear it over my hips so that it wouldn’t fall down, thus exposing several inches of my ass and quite a bit of my pussy. Or I could wear it UNDER my hips, thus ensuring that my privates were barely covered, but that one wrong step or moment’s inattention would result in my suffering a… uh… wardrobe malfunction. Can you hear me chuckle at that? And to be honest, I’d do it with a lot more style than others I could name.

I opted for the below the hips method. Mostly because the assignment had me sans panties, which meant that while an accidental exposure might not get me arrested, actively walking around with a too short skirt and flashing my goods probably would. So I delicately settled the skirt right under my hips and tried not to wiggle too much.

The halter top was much easier. I have about half a dozen of these. I choose a plain pink one with an around the neck tie, rather than the typical shoulder to back support. I figured this one would do a better job hiding the string holding up my Alligator Clamp Bra. I was right. But as it turned out, “hiding” the Alligator Nipple Clamp bra wasn’t really an option.

So dressed to kill, or at least fuck, I got back in the truck and headed toward someplace that would meet the requirements of the assignment. I ended up opting for one of our local grocery stores. Don’t worry. It was an upscale one with dark wood paneling and muted lighting, especially in the floral, deli, bakery, and produce sections. The lot wasn’t exactly full on an early Wednesday afternoon, but it wasn’t empty either. It also didn’t help that it was located in a strip mall with everything from yoga to restaurants, to an active bank on the corner of the lot.

I pulled up, my heart thumping in my chest and found a spot out in the boonies, or B.F.E. as some people like to call it. (Beyond Fucking Egypt), but in reality I was pretty much even distance between the road and the store. There were maybe fifteen parking spaces between me and the other cars, which I felt was perfect. I put the truck in park and then did what I had to do.

Turn the RVP up to full power, on both the stupid spinning cock and the vibration. I clutched the steering wheel as the sensations rolled up from between my legs, sending me spiraling upward with sexual energy. When I looked down, I could actually see the pink base of the RVP, clearly exposed since my “skirtish” skort had ridden up almost a full five inches. God, I was lucky I wasn’t ever pulled over! Two or three minutes in I decided I might as well put on my bra, right?

There are times when I think to myself “I should take the Saturn.” It has tinted windows. My Ford F-150 does not. But part of me says “that’s the way it should be. Besides, now you have a better view of who is around you.” I’m not very good at arguing with myself, am I? As it was, my truck was pointed away from the main traffic areas (I’m not stupid. Sorta.) so except for a quick glance around to assess the risk, I was able to remove my halter top rather quickly. I grabbed my alligator nipple clamps, draped the string over my head, and let the clamps dangle down.

Which is when I realized that I had made a pretty major mistake.

A little perturbed, I grabbed the clamp dangling down by my left breast. Carefully, knowing it would hurt, I pinched the evil little thing open and then let the very end of the clamp snag my nipple. I was right. It hurt. A lot. But I was already so hot and bothered from the RVP that it made absolutely no difference whatsoever. The pain just got sucked right into that spinning vortex between my legs and made it stronger. I reached to the other side, sliding the little slip know down to length the string, and discovered that I had REALLY screwed the pooch.

The string was too short. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have measure the string wearing a bra. I also think that CUTTING the string while in the midst of an orgasm was probably not one of my more brilliant moves. As a result, I think the string was about three or four inches shorter than Master Ham or Master Mark had intended. I pulled on the string, which of course tugged on my left breast and nipple rather painfully, and even with my left forearm holding up my left tit as high as possible, while lifting my right breast up, I had trouble getting the second clamp on. I managed though, but barely. My breasts were in agony though, pulled and tugged sharply upward in this excruciating. But they were ALSO pulled together, the alligator clamps almost twisting to forty five degrees between the alternating tug of the connecting chain and the string. The areolas were pointing directly up, the undersides of my breasts now the front. Pain washed over me as I picked up my halter top, my movements making everything much much worse.

And then, as I pulled my shirt over my new Alligator Clamp Bra, I exploded with a loud cry, a gush of wetness that soaked the seat beneath me, which made me shake like a storm lashed tree. It was a few minutes before I was able to really figure out what to do next. Orgasms like this, pain filled ones with lots of possible humiliation, are rather intense. In some ways, they’re like getting high. Except instead of illegal drugs (which I HATE!) I do it with endorphins and adrenaline. Trust me, natural highs are WAY better than doing it with drugs.

I did manage to turn the RVP off, but only after my brain had started to work again, although I was still a bit mind fucked. Slowly, trying not to move my upper body or arms any more than I had to, I pulled the RVP out of my soaked crotch, down my legs, and over my feet. According to the assignment, I wasn’t supposed to wear it into the store. I smoothed my skirt down as best I could and used some tissue to wipe up the seat. I had no clue if the skirt was soaked as well, but honestly, it was black and probably wouldn’t have been noticeable even if it WERE soaked. I opened the door of the truck and got out, grabbing my purse at the same time. That, in and of itself, almost had me crying out, folding as the pain in my tits almost floored me. It was like hot flaming needles being shoved through each nipple; and then electrified.

Hmmm… I wonder when THAT will eventually happen to me? That actually doesn’t sound that bad any more. Maybe I need to alter my limits, just a bit. OOHHH! Personal Growth! Aren’t you guys proud of me?

I did manage however, to stay steady on my feet, adjust my skort skirt appropriately an inch or two below my hips. Thank God I shave. If I had even had a little bit of hair down there, it would have been CLEARLY visible. As it was, I think there was only about an inch of material between my clit and my exposed abdomen. But hey, at least my ass and pussy were covered.

And I headed into the store. It was a long walk.

Throughout all this there was one little think I had failed to really notice. Of course, inside the store, I figured my skirt would be the real attention grabber. I mean, seriously, it was SO short! Oh… and the other reason I didn’t wear the fuck me shoes? My hips roll a LOT when I’m in heels. Could you imagine twitching your ass just one time too many and then whoosh, down your skirt goes? Anyway, I though my skirt would be the attention grabber.

It wasn’t. It was my alligator clamp bra.

When I caught this one woman staring at me, half in shock, half in horror, and half in what I suspect was disgust (yes I know that’s three halves. Bite me mathematicians.) I finally looked down at my chest for the first time. I had been so preoccupied with how it felt that I hadn’t bothered considering how it looked. My halter top was obscenely stretched. The low neck line bulged oddly now and due to the chain BETWEEN my clamps, my breasts were pulled tightly together. The clamps were actually SHOWING as were my nipples! It was… well… oddly erotic. I felt a renewed sense of moisture between my legs and I quickly turned and readjusted my halter top so that I left a great deal of belly exposed, but managed to cover up at least my clamped nipples. The material of the halter bunched up at my neck, but I felt I could handle that. The real issue now was that the clamps were CLEARLY defined under the material, and the odd shape of my breasts, tilted upward, made it clear that they were pulling on my tits. Harshly too. I took a deep breath. Smart thing was for me to just get my produce and go.

Thankfully, the produce section is not that far away from the entrance, even if it is in back of the store behind the deli and bakery. I flip flopped my way to fruits and vegetables, clearly on display (me, as well as the produce), with a number of shoppers openly staring at me.

I grabbed an ear of corn, a cucumber, and a banana. I was all finished and heading back to the front to make my purchase when a man in a shirt and tie, with a nice name tag sporting the store’s logo, stopped me.

“Miss, I’m sorry, but you are inappropriately attired to be here.”

I understood every word. I DO have a college degree. But I blinked and pretended ignorance. “Excuse me?” I asked. I didn’t stop though, I continued walking to the cash register. Unfortunately, being approached by management had caused more of a commotion than just me walking slutlike through the store. Now people wanted to see what happened. Mr. Manager (who will remain unidentified because I don’t want him or myself in trouble) walked with me.

“Your clothes are inappropriate to shop here. You will need to leave,” he repeated. His voice was firm but I could tell he was ogling me. Hey… when a girl walks by you, dressed like I was, you’d ogle too, even if it was only to express your shock. I could hear the laughter behind me, the chuckles of derision, mostly from women. But I guarantee you, every man and lesbian in that store was trying to get a better look at me, hoping for the right twitch that would bring down my skirt and wondering how the hell it was staying up.

Yeah, I was wondering that too.

I walked right up to the do it yourself register and immediately began purchasing the produce. Mr. Manager walked right up to me and touched my arm, saying “Please miss, you can’t make a purchase, you have to leave…” His sentence sort of trailed off because I jerked away, glared at him, and said “don’t touch me!”

Which is of course right when my skirt decided to head south for the winter.



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Being Ass Fucked

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