Facebook Doesn't Like Me

Morning EVERYONE! Well, here's some news: facebook didn't like me. They barred me and my email address and only through some serious funny business was I able to get my profile back up. But with that done, Michael and I decided that we needed to keep the facebook accounts G, or at least PG, so I can't post my morning... ummm... TOY any longer on facebook. I suspect though it was probably a picture or two, but I'm not sure. Who knows why I was "banned"? LOL.

But the cool thing is that I can still post to the blog and Michael said he's fine with me doing that. So... what today's toy? Well, today I'm stuffed with my Husky Dildo, which is being held in deeply by a pair of bikini brief panties and my shorts. It feels... nice actually. Not much movement, but one of the stipulations Sir Arthur specified was that every hour, for ten minutes only, I needed to masturbate with it. That makes things much much more difficult for me. Of course, I'm ALSO still under the stipulation that if I'm to cum, I have to my tongue inside a girl. A stranger too, so no going over to Julie or Kari or Kelly, or even Amber. I get to meet so many new people... sigh.

Of course there's a possible punishment too. I'm hoping I won't have to experience it. If I cum, I have to put a binder clip on my clit, and two more on my sex. And I have to wear them until the next masturbation session. That won't be so fun.

Doilies 07/24/11

I was more than a little nervous. I was downright close to going home. The butterflies in my stomach could easily have been mistaken for an incredibly deep set vibrator, but since I was only stuffed with my twelve inch Core Driller dildo, that didn’t vibrate, I couldn’t really blame the toy. I stood there, my legs spread a good three feet apart, the arches of each foot pressed into the high heels I was wearing, forcing me for fashion’s sake to stand on tip toes. The front of my skirt was down, concealing the fact that I wasn’t wearing panties, but the back of my skirt was tucked into the hemp thong that I was wearing, exposing both butt cheeks quite nicely.

I was also wearing a tee shirt, just a tee shirt, and the thin white cotton material was rolled up under my chin. I could feel the air conditioning vent blowing cool air across my breasts, both nipples hard and puckered. My arms were up with my fingers laced behind my head. This kept my hands busy but also forced my breasts outward. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to look at her. Hell, I didn’t even know her name! All I knew is that she had my cane, the one I brought in with me, raised in readiness. I admit I was taking deep breaths in preparation and the rogue thought “how the hell did I GET in this situation?” crossed my mind…


This morning started the usual way, with me getting online and finding out what toy I would get to torment myself with for the whole day. I have a large collection of course, the idea being that swapping out a different toy each day will keep me from becoming accustomed to certain sensations. I can understand that. If I spent weeks wearing the ben wa balls I’d barely feel the arousal they can cause. Heck, even now I have to admit that my endurance levels for toys like my vibroballs, or the RVP has increased dramatically. There was a time that an hour on high in my vibroballs would have me gasping with orgasm. Now… well… I’m a little better trained.

I had some chores to do that morning along with the knowledge that I also had a very specific punishment assignment that evening. That punishment came thanks to one of my facebook friends, a fellow submissive, who decided that I needed to be punished. I know… odd for a submissive male, right? But I suspect that Slave Caz is one of those guys who believe that misery enjoys company. And I’ll be honest, no one knows punishment better than someone whose HAD it!


Master Brandon was online and after a brief discussion about my day’s itinerary, he decided that I needed something that would appropriately fill me, stretch me in preparation of my punishment assignment, and hurt me all at the same time. Worse, since Master Barrett’s prohibition on cumming, unless of course I had my tongue stuck in a strange woman, these two “stipulations” promised to make my day a sexual hell LONG before I’d have to submit to the punishment assignment in the first place!

My twelve inch Core Driller is a black rubber dildo shaped like a rocket ship. It’s large. It’s long. It’s thick. And it won’t stay in by itself. There have been a number of methods I’ve used to hold it in of course, from panties to short shorts to duct tape. But the means Master Brandon is most fond of is my hemp thong.

Hemp is another word for rope and my thong is about the cruelest “rope” g-string you could find. It consists of some of the thickest scratchiest rope on our farm, a full half inch wide, tied so that one strand goes around your waist, then knots in the back and comes to the front. The crotch strand slips under the front and the clove hitch knot happens (through careful measurement of course), once tightened properly, to sit right above my clit.

The nice thing about the Core Driller is that it comes with this steel ring embedded in the bottom. That makes it rather easy to run the crotch rope through. Of course tightening the rope does a couple of things. First of all it makes sure that all twelve inches of hard rubber is thoroughly and completely embedded inside me. I don’t know of many girls who routinely walk around with a foot long thick column of rubber up inside them. Second, because I keep the rope tight, that scratchy hemp line slips deep between my labia, puffing out my petals and generally causing all sorts of mischief and mayhem down there. Third, with every step, the entire thong slides about a quarter to half an inch, slowly rubbing, chaffing, and scratching my clit, my inner and outer labia, my perineum and even my butt crack.

There have been some suggestions about me putting a knot in the rope right over my butt hole, but I’ve been resisting THAT. So until someone ORDERS it, I’m not going to do it.

So stuffed and sexually bound, I started my daily chores with something akin to a wavering desire for a decent fuck and orgasmic release. What I got was a slow building burn between my legs that only increased with every step and a slow but desperate longing to have that Core Driller pumping inside me like a jackhammer.


Despite the clitoral stimulation, I didn’t cum that morning. Oh no. It was just pure sexual torment. I sat with my family for breakfast, quite uncomfortably I might add, but still no release. I thought about taking Star for a ride, but quashed that idea pretty quickly. A ride on a horse while stuffed with the Core Driller and wearing the rope thong? That would almost CERTAINLY make me cum and make the movement of the rope through my crotch an unbearable torment. I’m not saying I wouldn’t go for a ride like that, but I’ll say it would have to be an assignment, not just me being stupid.

I puttered. I did some minor repair work on one fence. I lubricated one of the mower rigs. I scratched our sow’s back with a rake. I curried and combed Star. I went upstairs to my room and did some writing…

It was after lunch when I finally gathered up what I would need and put it in my bag. Short skirt? Check. Thin white cotton tee shirt? Check. Stripper Fuck Me shoes? Check. A solid cane? Check. Okay, the cane wasn’t in my bag, it was actually out in the barn and I tossed it into the truck before heading out.

Now I’m not stupid. I hardly left the house dressed like a tart. I was wearing shorts and a tee shirt and a bra of course. My mom’s eyes would have popped out of her head and frankly, my dad doesn’t need the encouragement. But like with most assignments, I drove off the property onto the farm to market state highway south of our farm, found a gravel shoulder, parked, and moved to the front of the truck. It wasn’t hard to strip and despite the threatening clouds and high heat, I managed to get naked in almost record time. Of course our road is about as frequently traveled as the Antarctic, so I didn’t see any snow mobiles, let alone cars or trucks. So in about five minutes I had changed into the standard uniform of a nympho humiliation pain slut.

The shirt was too short. It was one of the shirts Kari had given me in college, this one sporting the words “Porn Princess” in faded pink lettering. I had a whole collection of sexually inappropriate shirts. It was a game for her. I sometimes felt like a doll, constantly getting dressed up by my best friend and mistress, but even back then I was a nympho humiliation pain slut, stepping out to go to class wearing a shirt that said “Don’t stare. Touch” right across my breasts. Do you have any idea how OFTEN I got groped? But now, almost five years later, the material is worn out, the cotton stretched, my breasts are a bit bigger, and… well… they didn’t fit well back then either. Now it’s just worse. Think practically see thru spandex with a damned good chance of just tearing, spilling my breasts out.



Thus attired I got back in the cab of the truck and headed down the road. The punishment assignment I had received the day before had been rather specific. I needed ten strokes to my breasts and ten strokes to my ass for every unauthorized orgasm I had given myself the day before. Then I needed to get fisted. Since I had experienced two orgasms during Friday’s punishment assignment, that meant forty strokes, twenty to my breasts and twenty to my ass. To complicate matters, the forty strokes to T&A needed to be from strangers. The fisting however… that could be my choice.

In hindsight, I should have realized that it would be a lot easier to find girls willing to beat me than girls willing to let me stick my tongue in them so I could orgasm. Lesbians can be hard to find but there seems to be a sadistic streak in most people. So with my clit still burning from the hemp thong chaffing with every step, my pussy stuffed to the point of rupture, and my entire body sexually charged, I turned north on Highway 6 and stopped at a strip mall.

I like strip malls. They usually aren’t as busy as regular malls and it’s a lot easier to find people either working alone or with just one other person. That makes things much easier. Plus stores at strip malls usually are the kind of places people CHOOSE to go, rather than wander in. That makes a difference, since it also means fewer customers to interrupt me when I’m doing something that would probably quantify as illegal. Maybe.

I know that I probably could have found a bunch of men completely willing to cane my tits and ass without a problem, but I wanted girls. So instead of stopping in like the electronics store, or the CD store. The first place I tried was a shoe store. The two sales clerks, both women by the way, were very attentive, if a little judgmental about my attire. They were polite of course, but when I explained that I didn’t want to buy shoes, and that what I really needed was for them to whip me with the stick I was carrying, well… I was asked to leave. The looks they gave me were practically poisonous. I’d say it hurt a little, and it did, but not much. I’m sorta used to it actually. When I walk the mall dressed like this the looks I get are half hungry and half “what a slut!” and not in a fun sexy sort of a way, but in a despicable one.

So on I went. I tried two more stores with similar if not quite as volatile results before coming across a sweet little boutique. Doilies everywhere, all sorts of tiny statues, salt and pepper shakers, tea sets, and a bunch of other stuff a Southern Texas Cowgirl like me, or even a nympho humiliation pain slut would NEVER EVER buy. The bell on the door rang as I went in and the first thing I saw was a gray haired thin lady look at me from the counter.

“Hello, thanks for coming in? Can I help you find something, dearie?”

Dearie? Oh dearie me. Still reeling from multiple disappointments and a rather sore crotch, I slowly walked (yes slowly. You would too if you had rope threaded through YOUR sex!) through the store with a slight smile and a shake of my head. I made a show of looking at the merchandise, all of which would look kitschy, rather than classy. Let me be honest, my best friend happens to be an upscale high dollar interior designer and she wouldn’t buy ANYTHING in this shop.

When I got close to the counter I noticed another woman besides the gray haired lady. She was sitting down in a chair behind the glass counter top, busily cross-stitching. She was plump and had brown hair done up in a perm with silver at the temples. A pair of thin reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She looked at me over the tops of the lenses.

“Goodness! You ought to be ashamed of yourself for going out in public like that!” the plump woman said cheerfully, without a trace of either embarrassment. I blushed crimson. This woman reminded me a lot of my mother, who would have probably said something similar.

The thin gray haired woman gave the plump lady a glance. “Gladys, she’s a customer. Please be polite.”

Gladys made a hrummphing sound and waved a hand. “She’s no customer, Rose. Trust me.”

The gray haired lady named Rose turned and gave me an apologetic smile. I blushed some more, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, and it wasn’t from the hemp thong or the Core Driller. I started to turn away, to leave, when suddenly I heard something that made me freeze.

“She ought to be whipped for wearing an outfit like that out in public,” Gladys said. The comment was meant to be heard, but only barely, so that she could deny it, but it made me hesitate. I turned back around and walked right back to the counter.

“Will you do it?” I asked, holding up the stick in both hands, across my palms.

“Excuse me?” Gladys asked, eyes widening in surprise.

“You’re absolutely right. I DO deserve it,” I said in a rush. “Would you give me twenty strokes to my bottom?”

“Your bottom!” Gladys said, somewhat shocked.

“And twenty to my breasts,” I finished.

Rose gasped, her hand pressed to her lips.

Gladys looked up at me, her expression a bit haughty and very hard and she put down her crosstitch and stood up. “Are you playing games, girl?” she asked me.

I shook my head. “No ma’am. I’m being honest. Please punish me?”

Gladys and Rose exchanged looks and then to my surprise, Gladys reached out and took the cane. “Come behind the counter girl.”

I nodded and moved to the end of the glass display cases and went behind the counter. There was a bit more room in the back corner and Gladys motioned me to the very back. She swished the cane once or twice and then looked at Rose.

Rose looked much more comported now the shock of my request had worn off and there seemed to be an unspoken conversation between the two elderly women. Then Rose nodded.

“I’ll take the top, Gladys.”

Plump little Gladys grinned with a silly laugh and she turned toward me. “Well, I’d order you to expose yourself but you are almost naked as it is. Be that as it may, lift your skirt for me and pull down your panties.”

Once more I felt the heat on my face. “I can’t pull down my panties, ma’am. I’m not wearing any.”

Gladys laughed at me. “You ARE a slut, aren’t you! Then lift the back of your skirt up with your hands and hold it.”

I did so but then I felt the tip of the cane stab me in my left buttock. It wasn’t pleasant let me tell you!

“What’s that?” demanded Gladys. Rose came a bit closer and I felt her thin fingers touching my ass. I practically jumped out of my skin!

“It’s my crotch rope thong,” I replied.

“My goodness!” said Rose, coming closer to look at it. “Doesn’t that hurt?” she asked.

Gladys answered for me. “Not as much as this cane will!” She poked at my ass again. “Tuck that skirt into your rope thong, girl.”

I did as ordered. What else could I do? I had to get caned one way or the other and being in the hands of two grandmotherly aged women could hardly be worse than what Julie would do to me.

As I tucked my skirt into the back of the hemp thong, Rose got even closer, grabbed the hem of my shirt, and lifted it up. Immediately my breasts fell out. I think I squealed a bit and made to cover my breasts, but Rose stopped me with a smile and then I dropped my hands. She reached out and touched my nipples, both of which hardened immediately. A shiver went through me, almost electric, and highly sexual and for a moment, I thought about asking Rose if I could stick my tongue up inside her! Wow… geriatric sex! Not that I mind of course, but Rose and Gladys had to be in their late fifties or early sixties. But hey, I’m going to be sixty someday. Or at least I hope I will.

Gladys tapped my wrist with the cane and nodded and I pressed my lips together as I lifted my hands. They went to the back of my neck, forcing me to arch my back. My legs were spread wide apart, at least three feet. With my shirt rolled up under my neck, both my tits and ass were exposed, ready for the caning. As Gladys got into to position, I wondered how I got into this mess.

The first stroke landed and to be honest, it was nothing. A mere love tap. I didn’t even gasp. The only reaction I felt was a slight tightening of my buttocks and a little sway. Of course Gladys didn’t leave it at that level. The second stroke felt more powerful, but it still didn’t elicit the normal screams I give when Julie is beating the crap out of me. Wait… I guess I should explain. Julie doesn’t beat me up. She spanks me. She loves spanking me. She spanks my breasts, my ass, my pussy. She loves to hit me in those spots, over and over again, hard and soft. So I’m USED to this.

By the time we got to the fifth stroke across my rump, it was starting to sting. Pretty badly too. Gladys started off light but quickly found both her rhythm and strength and by ten my hips were jerking around, dragging the crotch rope back and forth across my clit and through my pussy. I felt the moisture between my legs increasing as did the pain and as we finally got to twenty I was so close to cumming that had Gladys whipped me even once on my clit, I’d have popped merrily and been a satisfied woman for the rest of my life.

Okay, no I wouldn’t have been satisfied for the rest of my life, but I’m sure I’d have been pretty good for twenty or thirty minutes.

My ass felt like it was on fire as Gladys handed the cane to Rose. The thin gray haired woman came up and stood on the opposite side of me. She raised the thin bamboo rod at chest height, my chest, and swung it horizontally at my breasts. The cane cut the air with a swoosh and the next thing I knew I was bent over, both hands covering my chest as I yelled, yes yelled in agony. My GOD did it hurt. After a minute I was finally able to stand and look down at my chest. Both breasts sported an angry thick red line that crossed the soft white flesh, both nipples and the cleavage.

Then, while I was still reeling from that first stroke from Rose, she snapped the cane against my ass, which caused me to stand up straight. That hurt too.

“Hands on the back of your neck again or we’ll have to tie you,” Gladys said.

Hmmm… now wouldn’t that be interesting?

The second stroke across my breasts was just as hard as the first. Rose was a much more aggressive torturer than Gladys and it was everything I could do to keep my hands behind my head. I hissed. I whimpered. I yelped. But by the time we got to ten my breasts felt like I had dipped them in molten lead and I was hyperventilating like a landed fish. The lines across both tits were scarlet, tinged with blue and they felt heavy as well.

Two strokes later I couldn’t stay in position. Rose was hitting me harder than anyone had EVER whipped me across my breasts. Seriously, not even Sara’s Caning that I endured a while back matched this one. I thought my tits were going to split. I buckled, tears pouring down my cheeks, my arms clutched across my body protectively.



“Tsk tsk.. now we’re going to have to tie you, dearie.” Gladys stood up and opened a nearby drawer. They had rope. Why did they have rope?

Gladys wrapped the rope around my wrists, binding my hands together. I didn’t resist, but I didn’t cooperate either. I know. Bad. But all I could think about was how bad my breasts hurt. With several loops around both wrists, firmly bound, Gladys pulled my arms upward. My hot and heavy breasts were once again exposed and Gladys once more put my hands behind my head. Except this time, to keep them there, she ran the long length of rope from my hands down to my ass, and threaded her rope through my hemp thong, right at the back. Then she pulled it tight.

For a moment, I forgot about my breasts hurting, which was nice. Of course on the flip side, the Core Driller shifted inside me, going deeper. The rope slid along my clit and labia. And I felt the scratchy part of the rope chafe my perineum. Add those up and they hurt pretty bad. Of course all that did one other thing.

Even as I was dealing with the sudden sexual urgency Rose hit me again. Except this time, when I jerked my hands, it yanked on the hemp thong, which ground the knot into my clit. My hips pumped and Gladys reached over and tried to yank my skirt off. Unfortunately, that didn’t work thanks to the rope binding my hands to my hemp thong, so she settled for exposing my pussy and tucking the material into the rope around my waist.

I was dripping I was so turned on. My hips ground back and forth and the rubbing on my clit was just about more than I could bear. Rose hit again and then again and I’m guessing they could tell I was getting close. I was too, and I knew it. But there was that one issue. I wasn’t allowed to cum unless…

At the eighteenth stroke I bit my tongue but managed to gasp out “please! I’m not allowed to cum unless I’m eating pussy!” Not very eloquent or classy, but hey… I’m not Kari either. Besides, there isn’t a sexual version of “pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?”

“Pardon me, might a tongue your clitoris?”

“Excuse me, might I nibble your nub?

See? But evidently that didn’t matter than much because Gladys, not Rose, pulled up her dress, yanked down her panties, and exposed a rather thick bush of hair between her legs. Rose put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me down to my knees. I leaned forward. Gladys wasn’t dirty or anything, but she had a definitive odor, like… I don’t know… old woman house or something. Like a mixture of talcum powder and old cheese. Weird. But she was clean and I bent down, trying to get a decent angle since my elbows were in the way.

Gladys helped by spreading her legs wide and I finally got close enough to get my tongue into her slit. She tasted very strong, salt and tang and musk. She was also turned on. I could tell. My breasts were now pretty much inaccessible, but then I felt a tap between my legs. I jumped slightly but that only resulted in another agonizingly sexual movement of the rope against my clit. I felt the cane begin to tap my labia, the meaty thick petals that bulged on each side of the half inch thick rope buried in my pussy. I began tonguing Gladys.

Tap Tap Tap Tap Tap. The cane came up between my legs, beating out a light pattern against my labia, one side, then the other. I swirled my tongue through her slit and immediately found her clit. In seconds I was dabbing my tongue against it.

Snick Snick Snick Snick. The cane came with more force and little bursts of pain exploded up from between my legs as Rose hit a bit harder. I continued to suck and nibble on Gladys but I was increasingly having problems. My butt was moving rapidly up and down and wriggling like a live eel. That didn’t make things harder for Rose let me tell you. She just kept hitting.

Smack Smack Smack Smack. Now the strokes between my legs were hurting. Some of the blows landed on the rope, but most just continued to tenderize my swelling labia. I shuddered as I felt myself getting close to orgasm. I began pulling on the rope at my hands, forcing the knot to move against my clit. I groaned, sending the vibrations of my voice down into Gladys’ cunt and then I couldn’t do anything else but cum.

I came, with my tongue buried inside a girl, a woman, a stranger. There. Authorized Orgasm.

And as I exploded Rose let loose a few more whacks between my legs.

To be honest, I’m not sure when or even IF Gladys came. I know that I ended up on my side, screaming in orgasmic agony.

Yes. I just made that up. What’s orgasmic agony? Well, if you’re a pain slut, you know. It’s where the difference between pain and pleasure is only a couple of letters, rather than an actual experience. It’s when you get to a point where your brain shuts down and your nervous system can’t differentiate between “ouch” and “ooohh”. It’s when there are so many sensations that you lose track of them and all you can do or think or say is “oh God yes please more! HURT ME! HURT ME!”

And yes. I’m sick. I know it. Most girls aren’t constantly wet either.

I was left on the floor for a bit but was treated gently. At least until I rolled over and managed to sit up. Rose was still holding my cane and Gladys had put her panties back on and pulled down her dress.

“Are you alright dearie?” Gladys asked kindly. I nodded and slowly got to my feet. My shirt was still rolled up, bruised and welted breasts on display, but my skirt had fallen down in the front. My hands were still bound up behind my head, the rope connected to my hemp thong. I’m sure I was a mess too.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” Rose asked me with a smile.

I blinked. “Ready? Ready for what?” I asked, still sex dazed and throbbing in various spots.

Rose swung the cane in a vicious arc that ended at my breasts again. I cried out, pain once more exploding through me and before I could even turn away, she swung again, sending a final lash through my breasts that I would have SWORN had cut me all the way to my sternum. I fell to my knees sobbing. Gladys came off her chair and hugged me, holding me tight as I bawled. I put my head on her shoulder and just cried and cried.

I hope you see the irony in this. I certainly do. Two old sweet ladies with a fucking doily shop are vicious evil sadists who enjoy whipping young women. What the hell is this world coming to?

Eventually I managed to get control of myself and stop crying. Gladys untied my hands and I cupped my breasts gingerly. Kneading them hurt and so all I could do was pull my shirt down. Even that hurt as the cotton compressed my tits, mashing them tightly. Gladys put away the rope and Rose gave me another warm and loving smile.

“Twenty strokes to your breasts. Now, hopefully you’ve learned your lesson about wearing outfits like that, young lady.” Rose’s voice was stern. I nodded dutifully. The last thing I wanted was ANOTHER caning. I moved toward the end of the counter, where it opened up into the main shop. I was just a little blown away.

“Now now, dearie. Are you okay?” Gladys asked. I nodded and smiled wanly. My breasts really really hurt.

“She’s fine,” Rose stated, then she gave me a very stern look. “And I expect you to come back regularly, dressed appropriately.” She held out my cane. Gingerly (I didn’t want to move my arms around too much) I took the weapon and said quietly, “yes ma’am, and thank you. Both of you.” I got warm smiles back and then I turned and walked out of their shop.

Um… or maybe I escaped. I’m not sure.



I made my way back to my truck and I’m going to admit that I did NOT wear my seatbelt across my chest. I tucked it behind my back. There was just no fucking way. In fact, I pulled over in a deserted parking lot and gently lifted my shirt, just to examine the damage. My breasts from top to bottom were scarlet, with visible welts running across both, with just my cleavage clear of damage. There were ripples of black and blue as well and I’m absolutely positive there was subdermal damage. Oh my god... Rose fucking BEAT me!

Originally, my plan had been to go see Amber, a cute little seventeen year old blond that I’ve been… uh… seeing… corrupting… dating? Anyway the original plan was to get her hands a little dirty… in a fun way, by fisting me. But after what Rose did to me, there was no way I could go to Amber’s place. She’d freak if she saw my breasts at that point. And frankly, my ass probably was only marginally better. I suppose I could have called Kari, but Kari costs me. If I go to Kari and ask for sexual assistance, I’m going to have to pay for it. Oh… not in money, but in later sexual services. It technically makes me an employee of Kari’s interior design business, but in a really weird way.

But there was another option, an option that would be easier to impose upon, easier to contact, with fewer repercussions; Julie. Of course on the flip side Julie is just about as brutal and vicious as Rose.

When I got to Julie’s apartment, most of the heat had finally faded from my breasts. They were still throbbing slightly though, which felt really weird, like someone’s hand was squeezing them gently in time with my heart beat. My ass was fine, and I got out of the truck, winced through a deep breath, and headed down the concrete walk to Julie’s door. I knocked gently, still trying not to move my upper body more than necessary. Finally the green painted door opened and there stood Julie.

With red hair.

I don’t mean auburn either. I mean electric bright RED flaming fire hair. It was brilliantly red. I’m a red head (yes dyed, sue me) but mine is a more natural red. This was about as natural as Velveeta cheese. I stared at her in shock as she eyed my costume. She was dressed in a loose blue tee shirt with a wide collar that hung half off her skinny thin frame. She was wearing khaki shorts that were exceptionally tight and looked good on her bottom. One ear had five earrings and the other six. Her nose is pierced, along with her lip, her tongue, both nipples, and her clit. She crooked a finger at me, motioning me in. I took that one step, the door closed behind me and then her hand came up, swinging directly at my breasts.

“NO! Please NO!” I screamed, holding my hands out in front of me. Julie’s arm stopped a moment before contact with my forearm. She blinked.

“What?”

“P-p-please! I can’t!” I cried out. With trembling fingers I lifted my shirt exposing my breasts.

“Holy shit!” Julie gasped. “Who the fuck did that?” She reached out and ran a finger over my left nipple. I think that’s the gentlest Julie has ever touched me. So I told her the whole story. We ended up moving to the couch and she made me show her the welts on my ass. My shirt ended up on the floor. It hurt to wear it anyway, so I didn’t mind and Julie obviously enjoyed looking at the damage Rose inflicted upon me.

“That’s pretty brutal, but it’s kind of awesome too, you know?”

I nodded, not sure I agreed with Julie about that. She continued on anyway.

“So now you need to get fisted, right?”

“Yes Mistress,” I replied. Julie likes being called that.

She took a deep breath and grinned. “Well for starters, take off that stupid rope and get the Core Driller out.” She waved at me and then stood. I did as well and while I stripped out of my skirt and began picking at the knot above my clit, she left the room. By the time she got back I had managed to loosen the hemp thong. It was a relief to get the rope out of my crotch and Julie tossed the bag she had brought from the back bedroom on the sofa. Then she got down on her knees in front of me and inspected my pussy, grabbing hold of my swollen labia and pulling them outward to check me.

“Well, for a girl who has basically been rope fucking all day, your cunt is in pretty decent shape. You’ve got a couple of small bruises forming from where Rose hit your cunny, but it’s not bad. You up for this?”

To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was emotionally up for it. Physically… yes I could handle getting fisted. Besides, it would allow me to cum again and NOT require my tongue be in a strange girl’s body. I could deal with that. I reached down between my legs and for the first time in over eight hours, slowly extracted the Core Driller dildo.

You ever see those magic shows with the never ending scarf that comes out of the hat? Yeah well, the Core Driller is sorta like that. If you pull it out slowly then you make everyone ask “how the hell did THAT fit in there?” Sex magic… all sorts of fun, right? Like that girl who plays the harmonica with her pussy.

Or was it a kazoo?

Anyway, I extracted the Core Driller, cleaned it off dutifully (yummy!), and then allowed Julie to sit me down in the very center of the couch. I was told to spread my legs, which I did, moving my rump forward enough to make access very easy for Julie. She pushed the coffee table aside and began putting items on it. Oil of course was joined by several long bungee cords, complete with hooks, and then a pair of leather bondage cuffs. These she put on my ankles and then using the bungee hooks, secured my feet to opposite ends of the couch. Not much I could do. Wrist cuffs were brought out next, along with a bondage collar and I let her but it all on me. Moments later my arms were once again above my head, elbows pointing outward to my front, my wrists locked to a ring at the back of the collar.

I’ll admit it. I was nervous. Julie has a vindictive cruel streak in her. She likes hurting people. She’s not just a sexual sadist, she the real thing. Ask her to break your arm and she will. Ask her to push pins underneath your fingernails, and you’ll be lucky if she dips them in alcohol first she’ll be so eager. Expose yourself to her, allow her to tie you up, and give her permission to sexually torture you… well… be prepared for the consequences.

Which is why I almost cried when she brought out the Japanese Clover clamps. They came up to my nipples, my poor caned, welted, swollen, bruised, targeted nipples, and bit down. I cried out. It hurt. A lot. But Julie really didn’t care. I could see that. Her “line in the sand” wasn’t whether it hurt. It was whether I was damaged. And as far as she was concerned, my nipples were just two more pieces of flesh that could with stand more. Then she knelt down between my outstretched legs, grabbed the oil, and proceeded to liberally lubricate my pussy.

It wasn’t fun. My pussy hurt quite a bit thanks to both the rope and Rose’s caning. I groaned as she pushed one, then two, then three fingers into me, fucking me with her hand. After the Core Driller, her fingers felt good, but rather… small. It was hard to adjust. So when she grimaced, jacked her hand around inside me (exciting me rather nicely too), and then declared that I was too tense and tight, I had to wonder what the hell she was talking about.



Julie reached back to her bag and then my heart did this wild jump in my chest. My pussy may or may not have been tense, but the rest of me certainly got that way as she drew the black leather sap out of the bag and brought it to my clit. She hit me about ten times, not too hard, but enough to sting like the dickens, before dropping the sap, inserting three fingers into me, and pumping. A few moments later as I was moaning a fourth finger slipped into my pussy and she continued the in and out rhythm. I could feel myself ripening, getting closer. My chest began heaving, the weight of the nipple clamps suddenly added to the pleasure, rather than just hurting. My toes curled, I arched my back. Closing my eyes I felt the build as I rushed toward the cliff of orgasm, fully intending to hurl myself over the edge.

The fingers were gone and then more pain exploded from my loins. The sap smacked into me repeatedly, the hurt blossoming like a mushroom cloud from a nuclear explosion. I screamed out loud, my hips thrusting up to meet her blows, each stroke landing wetly and directly. When it seemed I couldn’t bear it any longer, Julie tossed aside the sap and folding her hand, rammed it all into me. Her fist didn’t go in smoothly, despite her small fingers. She had to work it back and forth a few time even as I gasped, eyes wide. Suddenly I was right there again, my brain no longer recognizing the difference between vanilla and chocolate. It was all the same! I started to cum, the orgasm burning through me as Julie’s fingers opened and closed inside me, her wrist twisting, my pussy clenching tightly around her fist as she opened and closed her hand. It was like fucking an earthquake. At the height of my orgasm Julie bent down and sucked my swollen, chaffed, and abused clit into her mouth.

Don’t worry. I’m almost done. There really wasn’t anything more after that. I soaked Julie with a spurt of cream that made her yelp and then give the nipple clamps a tug. I was untied, forced to lick my own juices off the couch before Julie handed me a Lysol wipe. Then we took a shower together and Julie dabbed some Blue Emu on my ass and tits. Healing right? Finally I helped her clean up the toys and squirmed back into my clothing. As I buckled on the stripper shoes she patted me on the shoulder.

“Hey, you want to go out next week?” she asked. I smiled.

“Sure. What day and where we going?”

Julie smiled. “I’ll call you about that day, but as far as where we’re going… well… I think shopping might be fun.”

“Shopping? Really?” I asked, totally clueless.

My dominatrix grinned. “Absolutely, and I’ll want you to wear something that makes this outfit look respectable. I’ll have it for you here.”

I flushed crimson again. “Just so I don’t go to jail, Julie!” The last thing I needed was my dad coming to bail me out of the slammer.

She gave me a quick kiss, her eyes alight in mischief. “Oh no… we won’t be visiting the jail. I need a few things… a new dress… some hair dye… and oh yeah; some doilies.”

Punishment: 072211 Hanging For A Screw Up

07/22/11

Sometimes I screw up accidentally. Sometimes I screw up on purpose. Sometimes I don’t screw up at all. And then most of the time I’m screwed.

One of my readers pointed out that I had screwed up the whole spanking part of the last assignment. Evidently, and totally forgot while in the midst of sexual nirvana, I was supposed to ask STRANGERS to do the whipping and spanking. Oops. Damn. That would have probably hurt LESS than what Julie did to me! Oh well… my bad.

The reader also suggested a “punishment” for being a screw up, which was absolutely his right. The punishment? Oh… just a few NHPS pushups… with a slight twist.

An NHPS pushup for every stroke you received that should have been from a stranger including the extras you received from Julie for a total of 61. Now I'm not heartless, so you may perform sets of NHPS pushups throughout a day which take you up to the total, however for every half hour or part of half hour between each set, you must perform an additional pushup.

Finally, to make things interesting, the following modification is made to your push-ups: make or use a hemp thong, instead of tying it up at the back (if you would tie the thong at the front, rotate it 180 degrees), attach the end of the rope to something above you which ensures that your pussy will always be suspended at least 6 inches off the ground, then perform the pushups. As NHPS pushups are pushups, remember to remain straight at all times, so that your pussy acts as a pivot point.



So a little before lunch I went down to the barn with what I would need. Friday is laundry day so I spent most of my morning in the house. I was dressed in a skirt of course, panties, bra and tee shirt, but tucked up inside me was the nine inch Husky Dildo, barely held in by the bikini briefs I was wearing.

To be honest, I almost always wear the Husky dildo on laundry days. See, that particular dildo won’t stay in unless it’s held in place. Usually, if I want to stay completely stuffed, I wear shorts or something. But a few weeks ago I discovered that if I just wear a skirt and panties, the dildo will literally slide halfway out of me every time I stand up. Guess what happens when I sit down?

Laundry day has lots of ups and downs, trust me.

Once I got to the barn there was a little bit of set up to do. The uh… modification… that was required meant getting out a bit of rope. Not my knotted rope though, thank God. I never want to HAVE to walk that rope again. Though I know I will, probably soon. But instead I just got out some nylon line and my ratcheting strap and hook, got them tied together, and then tossed the line up over one of the rafters to the loft. In short order I had it all tied off with the hook from the ratchet hanging about a foot and a half off the ground.

The next thing I got out was my tack mat. I keep this stashed in the barn. It’s nothing more than a black piece of flat rubber that has about a zillion small tack points sticking out of one side. Jus the point mind you. You could put your hand down on this and press as hard as you could and just come away with an unpleasant stinging sensation and about a thousand little red dots peppering your hand. No blood. No penetration.

I tossed the mat down a few feet to the side of the hanging hook and proceeded with the next step: stripping. I’m really good at stripping actually. There’s an art to it, whether your undressing in front of a stranger, a familiar lover, or even a doctor. Of course if you’re by yourself and doing it so that you can get on with a bit of sexual torture, really… efficiency is the goal. So I just peeled off my clothes, starting with my shirt, then my bra, then my skirt, and then my panties.

And of course, my dildo fell out.

I caught it and immediately brought it to my mouth. A quick cleaning later and I laid my dildo aside for later, and then pulled out my vibroballs. These I slipped inside me, my already wet petals parting rather easily as I pushed in the two golf ball sized spheres into my body. I held the remote in one hand and jacked up the vibrations to maximum, shuddering as the fires of my pressure boiler were stoked to even higher temperatures!

Another reach into my bag produced my hemp thong, a curious construct I made almost a year ago. I probably need to replace it. There is one thick, scratchy, horribly thick strand that goes right between my labia and does some moderately horrible things to my sensitive parts with every step. The knot to tighten the crotch rope is actually a clove hitch and sits (thanks to some decent yet stupid measuring on my part), directly above my clit.

Thus attired, (which means totally naked except for being stuffed with buzzing vibroballs and wearing a hemp thong) I moved under the dangling hook. I went to my knees, feeling the metal bump against my rump and I reached back and grabbed the curved metal, slipping it under the knot at the BACK of the hemp thong. I tilted forward and then even before getting in to pushup position, I felt the pull of the hook on my thong.

The rope between my legs tightened and the part that had split my pussy was now digging deeper than it ever had before. I gasped, and I hadn’t even put my whole weight on it! I moved into NHPS position, literally with my hands down, the tack mat underneath my chest, at a slightly head down angle.

Usually when I do a NHPS pushup, my toes are on the ground. Not this time. The only way my toes were going to touch the ground was if I bent at the waist, almost doing a forward back arch. The buzzing in my pussy was suddenly twice as strong and I groaned. Then, with deliberate masochism, I lowered myself down.

There were two noticeable differences to this NHPS pushup and my regular ones. First of all, my pussy was hurting. The rope was digging painfully into the soft tissue and I’m absolutely positive that my petals were bulging. You try sticking an inch wide piece of scratchy rope in between YOUR labia and see what happens! The second difference was that LESS weight went on my breasts, so the tack mat didn’t hurt quite as bad. The rope between my legs actually took some of my weight!

So I started doing my NHPS pushups. Since my hips weren’t going anywhere vertically, it was all upper body and I mashed my breasts repeatedly down onto the tacks. Despite it not hurting as much as usual, the tacks still bit into my nipples, and as a combination with the buzzing inside me, the rather difficult to bear pain of the rope holding me up by my crotch, all of it came nicely together. The hardest part was keeping my legs straight and up.

Then I sort of lost control. My body decided that since there were so many delicious sexual sensations going on, I ought to thrust. Never ever thrust when you’re dangling by a hemp crotch rope. Suddenly ouch went to “oh my fucking god OWWW!” The knot above my clit, which had already thoroughly crushed and flatted the nub now sawed at it as my own movements jerked the rope about a quarter to half inch through my legs. It was easily one of the most evil torments ever devised. I was on push up thirty seven or so when I realized that I actually got more movement when my breasts were mashed to the tacks, so I just stayed that way, my ass rolling, my legs taut, with just my toes on the ground for balance. I know… I was supposed to keep my legs straight. Physical impossibility when you’re cumming in this position.

In essence, I fucked the rope. Oh, and the vibroballs I guess, but really it was the rope. It was like the rope walk. Never ending abrasion. And adding the tacks pressing into my breasts? Wow.

Technically all this week I’m not allowed to cum unless I have my tongue inside a woman. A stranger. But at that moment, between NHPS pushup 38 and 39 I came with a cry of release that was half agony and half ecstasy and all I needed as I was cumming would have been for someone to come in just at that moment and take a belt to my ass.

When my orgasm was over, the pain hit me like a freight train, and I still had over twenty more pushups to do. I went quickly, trying desperately to finish them, lowering myself down, pressing my breasts against the pin prick mat while I put my hands behind my back, clasped my fingers together and squeezed. Then I would bring my hands back down to the floor, lift myself up, and repeat.

I tried to do the whole pivot thing, you know… feet on floor, breasts up, then feet up and breasts down. But it was a lot harder than it sounds. Maybe if someone made me up a specialized see saw or something to keep me straight…

Anyway, the last ten pushups were brutal, but I plugged away at it because I knew, I KNEW I wouldn’t be able to handle doing this a second time. Especially for just a few pushups. So I did it. All sixty one.

When I was done I had a bit of trouble getting free, but when I finally got to my feet and pulled the hook out from under the knot at the back of my hemp thong, the relief was major. I tugged the rope out of my pussy where it was lodged, but I didn’t untie it. Oh no. See, I had cum, and my tongue wasn’t inside a strange girl at the time.



I stumbled over to my bag and pulled out the bottle. I walked to the back of the barn and went out the door, standing in the yard. I was still naked except for the hemp thong and the vibroballs. The rain clouds hovered over the entire country side but it wasn’t raining yet. I opened the bottle and took one breath of that citrus scent, before tilting my head back and pouring a full cup full across my breasts. The lemon juice streamed down over my breasts and the pin pricks turned to fire. I wasn’t even aware of it when the juice soaked into the hemp thong, trickling down, until I was burning everywhere. I fell to my knees, arms crossed across my breasts, mashing them, my thighs pressed together, the vibroballs roaring inside me. It came upon me suddenly, out of the heat and agony. I grit my teeth but couldn’t hold it in any longer.

And then I came.

Tales Of A Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 2

Michael Alexander Productions is pleased to announce the release of Breanne Erickson's second book "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 2". Dive into Breanne's world and explore the misadventures and sexual escapades of our favorite NHPS. Taking up where Volume 1 left off, Volume 2 packs even more into the pages for you to enjoy. With a special forward from Afterdark Online's Ray Stoste and the full archive of Breanne's Daily Assignments all they way through December of 2010, "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 2" is sure to take you to the very edge... and probably over it!

"Breanne Erickson is not just an erotic author, but a cutting-edge writer of dark erotica that will keep you mesmerized for more to come." - Ray Stoste, AfterDark Online

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Assignment: 072011 Stipulations

Stipulations

07/20/11

It’s not often that I write something up that WASN’T an assignment, but occasionally it happens. Okay… so I can’t remember the last time, but gosh after the weirdness of today, I couldn’t really NOT write it up. Don’t worry, it won’t be this huge story like Kari’s July 4th Party, which I’m still working on. Yes, I know. You want to read it. Well I’m halfway done through Part Four and…

Do you really want to hear my excuses? No, I don’t think so. So let’s talk about the situation I found myself in yesterday morning.

First of all, you probably are very aware of Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule #1. It’s pretty simple and to paraphrase it nicely, I have to keep either a cock or a sex toy up inside me at all times in order to keep myself wet and ready for sex, torture, or punishment. So every morning when I get up, I sign on to my email and check to see if anyone has set me a particular toy for the day.

Sometimes I don’t get an email which is why I pick something easy, with no “stipulations”. Stipulations like “no cumming”, or “vibes on low”, or “vibes and spinner on high”. The stipulations are little extras usually sent by one of my various online masters or mistresses, or even a fan with a cruel streak. (I admit I like fan sent “stipulations!”) In any event, I had spent the last week with a variety of toys stuffed up inside me, ranging from my Core Driller dildo to my Vibroballs, all with the stipulation that I was only allowed to cum if I had a stranger’s cock in my mouth.

Which meant that no matter what sex toy I had in me, I had to run out, find some strange guy who met my basic criteria (which admittedly is tantamount to being clean and polite), make and offer, and then try to time my necessary release to the impending blow job. Do you have any idea how difficult that is to do? Granted, finding guys wasn’t that hard, but the timing part was insane! Worse, Master Barrett, who set this little stipulation, selected toys for me over the week that made it very very difficult to control my libido. Punishment was extreme and frequent. Lemon juice, NHPS pushups, and my hemp thong. Do you have any idea what lemon juice poured over a chaffed clit feels like?

So with my full week of “cumming with cock” Master Barrett decided that a follow up was needed. This week’s theme is “cumming with cunt”, which doesn’t make things easier. It makes them harder. Worse, nothing else about the stipulation changed. It has to be a stranger, not a girl I already know, which meant I couldn’t camp out at Beccas (who would have LOVED this), or Julie’s, or Kari’s, or even Amber or Kelly. In short, I was (and still am technically) facing the situation of approaching strange women and asking to have oral sex with them.

I know what you’re saying “well gosh, that’s what lesbian bars are for,” right? Yeah, well, lesbian bars aren’t open at five thirty in the fucking morning. And the first day of my “cumming with cunts” stipulation also had me wearing one of my more… difficult to tolerate… toys.

The Rotating Venus Penis is pretty simple; two motors, a plastic slightly curved base, and a four inch plastic cock. The case is long enough to hit your clit and curve under toward your ass and the plastic cock is just a plastic cock. But the motors are the big issue. One motor causes the whole damn thing to vibrate. The other causes that plastic cock to spin. Let me tell you, I can handle the vibrator function, even on high, for quite a while. Add the spin bit to it, and I’m melting like jelly.



But it wasn’t Master Barrett who set me to wearing my RVP yesterday. It was Master Brandon, one of my OTHER online doms. Master Brandon has a bit of a sadistic streak and I tried to explain to him that me keeping both the vibrator and spin functions on low all day, whenever I was in private (meaning around family), would no doubt result in an uncontrollable orgasm, especially considering that I hadn’t cum in quite a while. Master Brandon hesitated, and then replied.

“You know, Breanne. You’re right. You may not be able to control yourself. So let’s motivate you, shall we? If you cum and your tongue is not stuck up inside another woman, you will immediately stuff your ass with your vibrating anal plug, the big one, as well as put your tack inserts into your bra and complete ten NHPS pushups. Furthermore, for every unauthorized orgasm you have, you will ask a stranger (male or female) to either give you twenty bare bottom spanks or fifteen smacks to your bare breasts.”

So with that little tidbit stuck firmly in my mind, I got dressed for the day. Of course the first thing I started with was the RVP. This slipped into my already wet and sopping hole, which of course had been stuffed with my vibroballs all night. Granted, they were off at least, which was a small blessing, but having had them on practically 16 hours straight the previous day, I was pretty ripe and ready to boil. I get that way. Besides, that’s the point right? That’s why I follow NHPS Rule #1. You never know when someone is going to walk up to you, smile, and say “pull down your pants so I can shove this cucumber up inside you!”

Okay, that doesn’t actually happen to me, at least not on a regular basis. It did happen once, but that’s another story.

After I had the RVP settled into place, I immediately turned it on, which in hindsight was probably not a good idea. Of course I didn’t have a choice either. It was either that or invite a bunch of people into my bedroom, which would have been a problem since they were all sleeping. Almost immediately I felt my body going through the sexual hoops necessary for orgasmic release and my hips were just going nuts as I pulled out a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and a bra.

Panties weren’t really necessary since I was wearing the RVP. In fact, I don’t think I own a pair of panties that would fit properly while wearing the RVP. Panties for me are more of a convenience. I wear them when I’m allowed to, instructed to, or need them to hold something in. When I was in college, Kari like to stuff my cylindrical hair brush inside me and fit the handle through a little hole in my panties. Talk about awkward walking. Ugggh.

So sans panties, I but my bra on. Then I donned my shorts and tee shirt. I stuffed my bra tack inserts into a small bag along with my tiny bottle of grapeseed oil and the vibrating anal plug, and then headed downstairs to do my morning chores.

When you work on a farm, there are some basic things you have to do. Our farm is mixed use, meaning that we grow plants and we raise livestock. Granted, not much of either, but half our land is good for grazing and half our land is good for crops. We do soy beans, corn, alfalfa, and occasionally cotton, depending on the rotation we’ve got going. Oh yeah, and we tried kale too. Who the hell eats kale?

Livestock wise we have a shitload of goats, about forty head of cattle, five horses (including my Star!) some pigs and geese and chickens and stuff like that. Oh yeah, and there’s a fucking emu out there somewhere that I can’t catch. Dad bought her (or him, I can’t tell which) off a fellow rancher with about ten others and things didn’t work out. It’s a long story that isn’t worth hearing unless you’d rather read about emu husbandry rather than my sexual antics.

You didn’t, right?

Anyway, down in the family room I put on my socks, jammed my feet into my work boots, laced them up and headed out to the barn. By the time I got there, I was REALLY getting worked up. Being out and about, moving around, all while being sexually stimulated, tends to get me even more lubricated. I slopped the pigs. I feed the chickens. I put out new hay for the horses. I scratched and loved on Star and Jeb. I got the tractor loaded and drove out to the north field and put out new feed for the cattle.

I don’t feed the emu. It can find its own fucking food or drop dead. I could care less.

Of course through all of this hour and a half to two hour long process the RVP was doing its thing inside me. The vibrations were bad, I’ll admit it. Even on low they were getting to me. But it was the spinner that really had me moaning. The vibrations… well, I’m used to those. I’ve been vibrated for years. In college I used to get online, strip naked, turn on my webcam and mic, and stuff myself with a vibrator on low before finding some guy to play hotseat pool with me, or before I would serve an hour or two as “room slut” in one of the Slave chat rooms.

I was an awesome room slut. I’d greet every guy who came in with a hello and me on camera, totally naked, from the chin down, legs spread, usually with a clothespin on my clit and nipples and lit candles ready for use. I remember one room moderator who would take a poll of what “torture” the guys wanted the room slut to do to herself every thirty minutes. I was FORCED to make suggestions and then they all voted on it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to sit there and suggest ways for the guys to torture you, knowing that you have to act it out in just a moment? It’s not easy.
Anyway, back to the RVP. By the time I was heading back to the house for breakfast, things had gotten to a head. My pussy was doing sexual gymnastics, pulsing and pushing and squeezing and squirming. My hips wouldn’t stay still and the RVP just kept vibrating and spinning inside me. I’m not sure if the vibrations from the tractor engine were the straw that broke the camel’s back, but I was still a good quarter mile away from the barn when I couldn’t take it any more and I put my foot on the brake and stopped the heavy machinery as my body went into orgasmic overload and exploded.

I screamed. Not in agony. In bliss. I like screaming during orgasms, and since I was a good distance away from the house, I didn’t feel like I was in danger of rousing the rabble. So I just sat there shaking, one hand against my crotch, pushing and rubbing the RVP against my pussy, loving every long second of that orgasm. Finally I was done and I climbed down off the tractor with just a glance toward the house. On the far side, with my back to the goat pen, I pushed down my rather damp shorts and grabbed my little bag. I extracted the butt plug and bottle of oil and lubricated the plug. Then I began working the large black plastic monstrosity into my ass.

I am NOT a fan of things being in my ass. Bad enough there’s shit in there. But I hate having toys in there too. Cock isn’t too bad, but toys… what is it with everyone sticking toys in there? I know… it’s punishment. It’s encouragement for me NOT TO CUM. But seriously, I was set up. I’m not stupid. I know and they know there is no fucking way I could withstand that kind of stimulation and NOT CUM. What did Barrett or Brandon expect me to do? Leave without doing my chores and go sexually assault some jogger in Memorial Park?

Actually, at that point I probably would have been willing to do that.

I had trouble getting the plug in so I bent over at the waist, one hand at my ass, holding the black rubber plug at my anus, with about an inch already buried inside me. I was trying very hard not to squeeze it out. Then I backed up to the back tire, set the base of the plug against the rubber, and pushed.

You know, in a way, it was like fucking the tractor.

With enough pressure at my back door, the plug slipped in and seated itself while I groaned and winced. I reached down to my ass and turned the damn thing on and immediately a rumble started in my ass that was one part sexual turn on and two parts “oh my god what the fuck is that? Please stop!” I climbed back up on the tractor and drove, rather uncomfortably, back to the barn.

I parked the tractor, got down, pulled off my tee shirt and bra, and then proceeded to use my tack mat (I like it better than the inserts and I didn’t want to get my shirt dirty) to do my ten NHPS pushups. Of course through all this the RVP was STILL spinning and vibrating and my ass was now clenching repeatedly around the buzzing plug. I’m still positive that seismographs in California was picking up the Breannequake occurring in Houston, Texas.

The NHPS pushups hurt, but then they always do. That’s the point. My bare breasts were immediately turned into red speckled globes of “ow” and the nipples seemed roughened. To be honest, NHPS Pushups are a lot like meat tenderizing. You take a piece of round steak, take a spiked hammer to it or a needler, and punch about a zillion holes in it before batter dipping it and frying it up in your skillet. Well, in essence, that’s what I was doing to my breasts… except without the batter dipping and frying part. Though I guess the 15 smacks I got later definitely qualified as “frying”. They hurt.

I put my bra and tee shirt back on and then got to do the one thing I had wanted to do for a while; turn OFF the RVP. I thumbed the remote down, turned off the vibrating anal plug, and went inside for breakfast. It was a needed break, trust me.

After breakfast I went back outside to the barn, spun up the RVP and anal plug, grit my teeth, and took Star out to our southwest fields to set the irrigators up. It’s a pain in the ass, much more than the anal plug, but not quite as penetrative I admit. I discovered that riding a horse while wearing the RVP is not a good idea because it presses against you much tighter, causing all sorts of sexual urgency problems. I hurried though. I didn’t want to get to a point where I would need double the number of strokes I had already earned with my first unauthorized orgasm.

So with everything set for that morning, I headed for home, put on a blue denim skirt, and then traded in my boots for flip flops. Then with a wave to my mom, I jumped in the truck and headed out to find oral sex and relief. So where does a girl go when she wants to both cum and eat another girl out? Oh. That’s easy.

If I had more time, I would have gone to the university. College undergraduate dorms are always a great place to find a willing girl. But the time frame was a little off and I needed to get back by lunch time in order to turn off the irrigators and start up the other fields. So instead I went to that other spot filled with young girls who would be ripe for a little action: the mall.

I choose our local mall, rather than the one down by the tollway because I wanted something more sedate. Our mall is so large that on a weekday morning, even during the summer, the place feels… empty. I’ve walked it often enough. Hell, I’ve walked it wearing barely anything. So me dropping in while wearing a totally respectable tee shirt, bra, and skirt, not to mention flip flops, was something of a novelty. As soon as I parked, I reached down between my legs, turned on the anal vibrator and then cranked up the RVP.

Oh. Guess I should mention. One of my limits is not to drive while being vibrated. I don’t think anyone would appreciate me wrapping my truck around a tree or a cactus, right?

So buzzing and stimulated and quite tormented, I paraded into the mall looking for two things. The first was of course some pretty girl I could stick my tongue into. The second was someone who would be gracious enough to either spank me stupid or smack my breasts around. Since Master Brandon had not specified WHO needed to do the spanking and smacking, I swung by a particular jewelry store to see if the person I really needed was there.

“Hey Julie!” I said, waltzing in to the junk jewelry store she runs. Julie is a friend of mine who I met about a year ago while performing some insane assignment there at the mall. Julie is first and foremost, a lesbian. Second, she is very much a dominatrix, and third, likes hitting me.

“Hey Bre,” she replied, glancing over at me. Her eyes widened when she took a look at my outfit. “Oh my God, you’re here normal?” she asked.

I blushed crimson and since we were alone in the store I lifted up the front of my skirt, showing her the pulsing buzzing RVP. “Plus I’ve got the vibrating anal plug in my ass.”

Julie grinned. “That’s my NHPS.” She pronounced it “nips”.

“So on assignment?” she asked me.

I nodded and then shrugged. “Sort of. I’ve got a bit of a problem that I was hoping you could help me with.”

“You know I love helping you with your problems,” she laughed. I couldn’t help smiling back. “So what’s the problem?”

“I need either a spanking or a breast beating. Twenty to my ass and fifteen to my breasts,” I said, just a tad bit uncomfortable. Julie’s eyes widened.

“And you need this because?” she asked.

Another blush. “I came when I didn’t have my tongue in a strange woman’s pussy,” I said, my voice trembling. The RVP vibrations and spinning were getting close to making me cum again.

“Seriously? Breanne… how do you expect to be a good NHPS when you can’t even follow simple rules?” She clicked her tongue at me. “All right. Go in the back room and take off your shirt and bra.”

I nodded and went to the back of the store. The back room is nothing more than an oversized walk in closet with a tiny bathroom, a desk, a chair, and a bunch of shelves. Not that impressive. On the other hand, I’ve been abused in that back room more than any other place in that mall. I’ve been handcuffed to pipes in that back room. I’ve been slapped, fucked, smacked, tortured, and god knows what else there.

Alone, I took off my shirt and then bra and laid them carefully on the desk. Then I laced my fingers together behind my head and waited.

That wait was awful. She kept me waiting too, on purpose, knowing that the RVP would just be churning away between my legs, knowing that I’d be going crazy. Five minutes passed and my hips started jerking. I studied my breasts. Both nipples were hard thanks to the air conditioning and the little red dots that had been so vivid right before breakfast had all faded into barely visible spots. At ten minutes I was getting close to another orgasm. A minute later, Julie came in, took one look at me, and then swung her open hand as hard as she could.

I admit I was prepared for it, but it didn’t stop the hurt. Her hand hit my left breast squarely and then continued on, dragging its way across my chest to hit my right breast as well. My bosom bounced and I let out a low cry, biting my lip. My pussy contracted tightly around the RVP.

She hit me again, this time from the other direction and sparks of pain shot up through my breasts. I let out another groan as the deep hurt blossomed in both tits and my nipples felt stung. My hips jerked again. Julie’s third stroke across my bosom almost made my fingers slip, the urge to cover my breasts was so strong. Julie looked at me as I half turned, bracing myself, struggling with the pain and the impending orgasm I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.

“So how many strokes do I have to give you?” she asked.

“Fifteen,” I said, still wincing and catching my breath.

Julie nodded. “Okay. Count them for me.” Then she swung again.

“FOUR!” I gasped.

Julie frowned. “You stupid bitch. The first number is ONE. And now that one won’t count.”

I blinked, trying to understand. Sure, now when I’m just sitting here, admittedly with the vibroballs in and on low, I have no problem understanding what she was talking about. However at that moment, with so much of my attention wrapped up in repeating the mantra “don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum” over and over in my mind, all I could do was gape at her and blink. The next slap stung like the dickens and my breasts throbbed. It was all I could do to gasp out “one!”

We went through fifteen more strokes, though the last few were actually just really painful powerful flicks of her forefinger against just my nipples. I dutifully counted each stroke and flick, not even really aware of the fact that Julie had weaseled an extra four smacks out of me. I was right on the edge when I got to fifteen and Julie just kept flicking my nipples until I couldn’t stand it any more. I think I got to twenty two when I shook like mad, cried out, and came with this powerful shudder.

Oops.

When I had calmed down enough, Julie was considerate enough to ask me what the punishment was for not cumming with my tongue in a strange girl.

“Another set of spanks on either my breasts or my bottom, ten NHPS pushups, and taking out and putting back in the anal plug.” My breasts were still throbbing and since the RVP hadn’t slowed a wit, I was still having some nether region issues.

Julie nodded. “Well go ahead and do the plug thing and then get those pushups out of the way and when you’re done I’ll be back in to hit your tits again.”

I almost cried.

Julie left and I dropped my hands from my neck, shaking. I reached behind me, grabbed the base of the butt plug and tugged it out. It didn’t feel good coming out and let me tell you, it didn’t feel good going back in either. When that was done I put my bra back on, then slipped the tack inserts into it.

My tack inserts are just two bra cup shaped pieces of rubber studded with tacks. The pin pricks are actually a little shorter than the ones on my tack mat, but that doesn’t keep them from hurting me the same. With what seemed like porcupines in my bra, I stretched out in the meager space I had and proceeded to thoroughly tenderize my breasts for a second time that morning.

When that was done I stuck my head out into the store. Julie was restocking some stand and I told her I was done. She nodded, told me to wait, and then went back to restocking. Beggars can’t be choosers, so I went back to my spot in the center of the back office, lifted my arms, laced my fingers behind my head, and waited for her to come and hit my throbbing, painful, fire laden breasts.

I’m going to admit it. I cried. Quietly. Julie just gets pissed when she sees tears and blubbering brings out the absolute cruelest behavior from her. It was just the thought of her doing another set of strokes to my breasts was almost… unbearable.

Julie came in a few moments later. She saw my tears and her face went stony. I closed my eyes, bracing myself as her hand came up. I expect my breasts to burst in pain, but instead, she merely grabbed my arm, swung me around, and bent me forward over the desk. Her hand swung, yes… but not at my tits. Her open palm landed on my ass and I hissed as the sting went through me. She hit me again, and again, working both cheeks equally until my ass was fidgeting all over over. This admittedly was NOT good for what was still going on inside me: namely the vibrating anal plug and the vibrating spinning sex toy, but we all have to make do. AS it was I got my twenty butt blistering strokes, thus fulfilling my punishment requirements. Even better, the fire between my legs had been banked, but not snuffed and it was also no longer roaring out of control. All in all, when I finally put on my shirt again, I was in much better shape than I had been when I walked into the store.

“If you fuck up again here at the mall and come to me for your punishment, I’m going to take my belt to your tits, so just be warned,” Julie said as we kissed and I waved goodbye. Ouch…

Julie had also been more help than just beating me. She also gave me some guidance, like which girls in which shops might be open to a little pleasuring. This gave me a starting point, so a little sore, a little hot and bothered, and very willing I started walking the mall.

My first stop was a clothing store and a cute brunette with massive breasts. Finding her was pretty easy, and despite the intense rotation in my nether regions, I actually managed to keep the waver out of my voice when I introduced myself and told her I was a friend of Julie.

Evidently I’m also famous, because when she connected “Breanne” to “Julie”, her eyes widened. “You’re the nympho humiliation pain slut!” she gasped. I nodded. Next thing I knew Christy was shaking my hand and telling me she loves my book. That made me blink. We chatted for a while and finally she asked me what she could do to help me. I knew she meant clothing wise but I smiled.

“I’d really like to cum, because I’m desperate, but I can’t unless I’ve got my tongue up inside you,” I told her.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. She gave me this wicked grin, asked me to wait for a moment and then went up to the register counter. A slightly older blond woman was there and Christy said a few words to her. She looked over at me and then smiled, nodded, said something I couldn’t hear back, and then Christy was pulling me into the store room at the rear of the store.

We were not interrupted and Christy took off her black slacks with a shy smile even as I cranked up the sliders on the RVP remote. I gasped as the RVP began churning inside me and in seconds I was climbing the walls in approaching orgasmic need. I went to my knees as Christy pulled up a chair. Her pants and panties were gone and she plopped down wetly with spread legs, her trimmed bush open. I lowered my mouth and took one long slow sweet lick, starting at her bottom, going over her perineum and all the way up to her clit, which I licked rapidly for a bit while she bucked in her chair. It felt incredible. I began licking her, driving my tongue into her body as I went up and down, sucking on her labia, her clit, and then circling as deep inside her as mu mouth could do.

When I came it was liquid ecstasy. My pussy trembled and roared and it felt like getting dark chocolate, a new car, and a whipping all at the same time. Oh… that sounds… deviant, doesn’t it? Oh well.

As I came I pushed my tongue as far up inside Christy as possible and after I shuddered and came I brought Christy to the same point, even as my clit began to protest the steady and continuing buzzing inside me. I turned the motors down as Christy exploded wetly on my mouth, eventually grabbing my face and rubbing it up and down her slit, my nose against her clit.



Frankly, it was awesome, and when we were done Christy told me to wait in the backroom. I did and a few moments later, the other woman, the blond from the register, who was easily ten years older than me and twelve or thirteen older than Christy, came into the back room.

So I got to have ANOTHER orgasm which was absolutely wonderful! Barbara was wearing a skirt and just hiked it up. To my surprise, she wasn’t wearing panties and her slit was totally shaved. It was amazing. So I jacked up my RVP again, shuddered my way through another orgasm, my clit tingling, while I licked and sucked and ate out Barbara until she joined me, crying out in orgasmic overload.

Sated, happy, and only barely bothered by the buzzing and spinning between my legs thanks to the double orgasm I had with Christy and Barbara, I headed back down the mall. I stopped by the jewelry store to wave at Julie. There weren’t any customers and she waved to me to come in.

“Get off?” she asked with a grin.

I nodded, smiling. “Barbara and Christy,” I told her. Her eyes widened a little bit.

“Wow. Both of them? That’s cool. Didn’t know Barbara was into girls. That’s cool. So did you have any more unauthorized orgasms?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No, I’m doing good. The two explosions I had with Christy and Barbara are keeping my head on straight.”

“That’s too bad,” Julie replied, giving me THAT look. “Give me the RVP remote.”

Have you ever felt your heart compress and then get squeezed down through your esophagus and all the way down to the pit of your stomach? It’s like this cramp of fear that just literally make you want to fold in half. I’m not positive but I’m pretty sure my hand was trembling as I handed Julie my remote. She took it from gingerly, didn’t look at it, staring into my eyes. I didn’t say a word. Then my pussy suddenly tightened as my motorized sex toy broke the speed limit. She tucked the remote back into my waistband and patted me with a patronizing smile.

Are you wondering why I let her do that? Are you saying to yourself “you stupid girl! What the hell were you thinking going back by there? Don’t you KNOW Julie wanted to whip your tits?” Well, yes, I did know that. But I didn’t think she’d engineer a failure on my part in order to provide herself the opportunity. I thought she was there as a backstop to help me out. I tried to hold out, but the RVP on full power is like getting licked, finger fucked, and twisting a dildo, all at the same time. Add the anal plug which was still vibrating in my ass and I was on a downhill spiral that only had one possible ending.

I came right in the middle of the store which was fortunately empty. Julie was just waiting for that and she pointed toward the back storage room with this look of smugness that made me want to punch her. I reached for my remote, but Julie stopped me and shook her head.

“Do your punishments with that on.”

I was shuddering and my pussy was throbbing like a laboring heart. I was having trouble just STANDING for God’s sake. But together we entered the back room and I immediately took off my shirt and went down on my knees. Moments later I was stretched out, Julie watching as I lowered myself down on my bra. A hundred tacks immediately were pushed deeply into my breasts and I groaned as I lifted my arms and put all my weight on my chest. I did this nine more times and with RVP still going at full blast.

I finished and was still lying on the ground when Julie helped me out. She put her foot in the small of my back, reached down, and rather brutally ripped out the anal plug. I came with a wet gasp and loud cry. I could feel my juices leaking down my thigh. Then I felt the plug touching my still gaping ass again and she pushed it in, rather hard too, and I cried out again as I was once more stuffed and plugged.

Despite the order to get up, I had trouble. My ass hurt. My breasts hurt. My pussy was pulsing and reacting and to be honest, had you asked me “Breanne, what is two plus two?” at that very moment, I would have blinked, given you a dazed, glazed over look, and replied “huh?” Yeah, I was that out of it.

Julie helped me get my bra off which was good because I was having more trouble standing. My ass seemed to have a mind of its own and I couldn’t get my loins to stay still. Julie lifted my hands, placed them behind my head, and then pulled her belt out of the loops of her pants.

Julie’s belt was this thick black leather monstrosity complete with occasional studs, rivet holes, and double stitching. She looped it in one hand, gave a practice swish, and then brought the doubled leather around in one of the harshest breast punishments I’ve ever endured. The damn thing left EDGE welts. Can you believe that? I actually started to scream by the time we got to the fourth swing and Julie quickly reached under her own skirt, pulled down her panties, and shoved them into my mouth. I suffered more torment while sucking on and screaming into Julie’s panties, not that it made much difference. Thank God no one was in the shop or they would have heard an earful.

It stung like you wouldn’t believe and I was crying by the time she was done belting my breasts. She plucked her panties out of my mouth when she was done belting me and then she turned the RVP remote down to low. I’m not sure why I didn’t cum during that last whipping. I know when it was finished I was really close. A few more strokes would have been enough, or just a single stroke up between me legs. But Julie seemed to know and stopped. I was left in the back room alone, the RVP slowly buzzing and still tormenting me, to get dressed and then say goodbye.

I headed home and was finally granted a reprieve with lunch. I admit I lingered and around one thirty or so I headed back out into the fields to turn off a couple of the irrigators. After an hour and a half of peace, it was a little awkward to switch the RVP back on but I did it like I was supposed to and suffered. But having had such a… prolific orgasmic morning, I was able to hold on until just before dinner.

I was back in the barn and I was on the back end of four hours of buzzing spinning and desperation. I didn’t want to orgasm. It was accidental. I knew I was in trouble. There was still an hour before dinner so I jumped into my truck. I was able to turn off the RVP while driving, but I knew what I really needed was to cum, and cum hard so that I could handle the night and maybe even the next morning.

My brain wasn’t really working and I headed back to the mall. Julie was gone. So was Christy and Barbara and since I had turned the RVP back on the moment I parked the truck I was only minutes away from cumming. With my lip caught between my teeth it finally didn’t matter. I stationed myself near the women’s restroom and stopped the first solo girl that I passed.

“Please, please can I use my tongue on your pussy?” I begged.

She gave me a look of horror and pushed me away. I asked another woman. Similar response.

It was the fourth girl I asked, a cute teen with long brown hair, a milkmaid complexion, and this really cute smile. Her eyebrow went up and she replied “If you’d like.” I grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the restroom. You know those videos of guys and girls going into the restroom and screwing with a lot of force and wild abandon. Yeah, well that was me. I ate her up and Shelly was amazing. She was seventeen years old (don’t worry, that’s legal in Texas), worked at a fast food joint, is bi-sexual, and tastes like strawberries. Oh my god… I still can’t believe it.

But I came. And that’s what’s important right? Oh yeah, Shelly came too. I’m not that mean. But when I came it was with the RVP on high, and my tongue stuck up as far as it could go, up a stranger’s cunt. That’s what you wanted, right Master Brandon? Master Barrett? That’s what you wanted!

Today’s been a little easier of course. The vibroballs aren’t nearly as difficult to handle, though I admit, morning chores weren’t exactly peaceful. In fact, later today I have to go back out. I need to cum, which means my tongue needs to be inside a strange woman. That is SO appealing.

Oh yeah, I’ll need another whipping or spanking too, and if getting this written and posted takes too long… I might need both.

See ya around…