Assignment 082911: Mike's Machine

I parked my truck in front of the brick house and looked at my destination. The lawn was carefully maintained, the wooden fence sealing off access to the backyard was practically perfect. The mailbox was an intricate iron sculpture, not too weird or anything, but still impressive, and I stepped out into the brutal south Texas heat. I was dressed appropriately: flip flops, blue denim shorts that came down almost to my knees, a blue tee shirt, white lace bra, and a pair of pink panties.

Of course I was also following NHPS Rule #1, which states that girls like me must be constantly stuffed, ready for a sexual experience. You know, in hindsight, I’m not sure that makes much sense. At least for me. Rule #1 is there to keep a girl wet and ready, right? Well, even without a toy, I’m usually wet and ready. Oh well, I guess that really doesn’t matter, does it? That day I was stuffed with my ben wa balls, two sphere shaped, latex covered toys on a string, each with a tiny rolling clapper inside. Every step was like someone’s fingers wriggling around inside me. Not enough to make me cum, but enough to make me want it. Constantly.

With a deep breath I walked up toward the door and rang the bell. It was only a few moments before the door opened and a familiar face grinned at me through the glass storm door.

“Hi ya, Mike!” I said with a smile. I opened my arms wide, presenting myself. He laughed, but then his eyes flashed with mischief.

“Aren’t you supposed to be naked when you ring a doorbell?” he asked pointedly.

I have him a slightly dirty look… and not the “dirty” he probably wanted. “Your email said that you needed me to come by to see something. You never said that I needed to arrive naked,” I said patiently. Mike was the manager of one of our local hardware stores, the small kind that actually has the items farmers need. We had met almost a year before when I had stupidly locked my keys in the my truck – while masturbating naked in the cargo bed. Mike had come to my rescue – finding a quilted blanket clad, naked girl to be an intriguing damsel in distress. Since then Mike had been nice enough to help me with a few items needed on some of my assignments. He’s pretty handy and has always been willing to help me out at the cost of a screw or two.

Mike crossed his arms across his chest. He still hadn’t opened the door. “Well I’ve decided that nympho humiliation pain sluts who come to my house, have to strip on the stoop. And they will remain naked until they leave.” He said it with this commanding finality, as if I were going to argue with him. He knew as well as I did that I wouldn’t. Stripping on his doorstep was well within my limits. So with a shrug, I kicked off my flip flops and tugged my shirt up over my head.

He watched of course. Granted, he’s seen me naked enough times as it is, so it wasn’t like he was getting something new. But I guess since this was the first time I was at his house, and not his store, it was worth watching. Or maybe I’m just ALWAYS worth watching. Whichever… I unsnapped my bra and pulled it down my arms, letting my bare breasts pop into view. Mike’s eyes immediately were drawn to the points, where several deep blue bruises seemed to crisscross across my bosom. Those were the remnants of a particularly harsh caning, but that’s another story. As it was, he winced a little. I didn’t mind. Sympathy can be a sweet thing.

I bent over and shucked my shorts down, followed immediately by my panties, until I was standing on his front patio in nothing but my birthday suit while stuffed with a relatively tame sex toy. Mike’s eyes seemed to take in every aspect of me and just for fun, I put my hands up over my head and did a ballerina pirouette for him. He grinned.

“Okay! I think you’re ready to come in,” he said. I laughed at the irony, stooped low to pick up my attire, and as the storm door opened, I stepped into the cool interior of Mike’s home.

The first thing I noticed was that there was a lot about Mike I didn’t know. As I walked into the living room, I saw some pictures of a handsome woman, about Mike’s age, in several frames. There was one of them together and they looked very happy. I paused, staring at the lovely couple.

Mike came up, a sad smile on his face. “My wife. She died four years ago. Cancer.”

I blinked, then turned. “I’m sorry, Mike. I didn’t know.”

He shook his head. “It was fast. We were married seven years.”

I looked around. “No kids?”

“We were saving that for later. We just didn’t know that there wasn’t going to be a later.” He sighed but then gave me another look. “Can I get you a drink?”

I nodded, anything to change the topic of conversation. “Sure? Got any ice tea?” I asked.

He grimaced. “No… but I’ve got diet soda, water, and some lemonade.”

“Oohh.. lemonade with lots of ice!” I replied, then followed him toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was white and maple wood, rather countryish and I could still sense the impact that Mike’s wife had on the place. It was slowly going bachelorish, and really needed a plant or two to bring some green into the space, but all in all, it wasn’t bad. It was also very very clean. I also happened to glance out the back window and saw a large eight by eight blue plastic pavilion, like the kinds you see people bring to the beach, erected in the back yard. Underneath it was something covered with a tarp. Suddenly I had my suspicions.

“What’s in the backyard?” I asked as Mike handed me a large plastic glass filled with ice and long thin cylinders of ice. I looked at the bottle ice and wondered if I were in for something ELSE later. Mike grinned and nodded toward the window. “Well, that’s what I called you over to see… and experience.” His head turned and he looked at my bruised breasts. “I was going to tenderize you a bit though before taking you out there, but considering…”

I lifted a hand and stopped him. “Hey, don’t let these stop you.” I put down my lemonade and cupped my breasts. “I can handle anything you do to me.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Then he shook his head in amazement. “I have no clue how you can do it, but I’m so hard right now.” His voice was more than a little tight. I grinned and took a step closer, reaching out to caress the bulge in the front of his jeans.

“So… let’s do that tenderizing,” I whispered, eyes flashing.

We left our drinks on the counter and Mike took my hand, pulling me into the living room. At the sofa he turned and faced me.

“Take off my clothes,” he ordered. Finally.

I unbuckled his thick leather belt first. It was supple and I imagined what it would feel like against my skin. Then I set it aside. His jeans came down next and I saw a pair of silk boxers. The scent of soap and aftershave assaulted my nose and I peeled his shirt and then socks from his body. Lastly, I pulled his boxers down until he was as naked as I. I went to my knees and his cock sprung from the containing cotton, practically putting my eye out. I let the boxers fall by them selves, releasing the underclothes in order to grab hold of his shaft. I opened my mouth and sucked him in, tasting clean, soft, hard flesh.

Mike moaned and reached down entwining his fingers in my hair as I bobbed my head, slurping and sucking on his cock with something akin to hungry abandon. I don’t know why I wanted him so bad, but I did. I started stroking his balls and I heard him moan. But then he pulled away from me, sitting down on the couch.

“Now, come here,” he said. I obeyed. His fingers slipped between my thighs for just a moment, tugging out the ben wa balls. These he tossed aside and I didn’t care. I put one knee on the sofa next to his thigh, and then straddled him, the tip of his cock slipping through my petals even as I positioned myself. I reached down between my legs and grasped him, then lowered myself down with something akin to a sigh of relief. Feeling him penetrate was so good. I groaned. I shifted. I wriggled. I fucked the crap out of him.

I was starting to really feel it when he told me to lean back and close my eyes. I nodded, tilting, shifting my center of balance and I put my hands on his knees. I wriggled my toes under his thick thighs and closed my eyes. I heard the clink of the buckle and knew what was coming. My chest heaved in anticipation and then the sharp smack of the belt against my right nipple exploded in my ears. The exquisite hurt behind it came almost at the same instant and I groaned as the pain rushed through me, straight down to my pussy. I tightened around him, my hips jerking wildly. He hit me again, rapid hard snaps of the first six inches of belt, and it was everything I could do to keep from covering my breast.

He moved to the other nipple, snapping the tip of my breast with steady and forceful strokes and I grimaced as the pain of it overwhelmed me. Granted, it just made me fuck him harder, but I was getting close to not being able to hold position. Just as I thought I couldn’t take another blow, he moved back to the first breast and repeated the series. I cried out and continued to jerk wildly, still pinned on his cock. I opened my eyes and looked down at my bosom. Both breasts were bright red, tenderized, even as the leather tip of the belt continued to bite into me, the impact waves of the strokes flashing through the meat of my breasts as if I were gelatin.

But then he dropped the belt and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his embrace. His mouth opened and engulfed one nipple, sucking hard as I continued to bounce and the sensation of his tongue dabbing at that tender part was enough to make me spiral upward toward orgasm. I was about to explode, my hips rocking, when he lifted me up and I found myself on my back, lying on the floor. Mike moved on top of me, penetrated, and then lifted his legs over mine so that he straddled me.

I have to admit, as far as positions go, I do like that one. As much as I love having my legs spread open wide, especially tied, having them clamped closed like that, while being regularly screwed, is just… nice. It’s a great feeling. I could feel Mike’s rough skin and his hair scraping against my clit and it drove me crazy. I put my hands above my head, closing my eyes, taking every thrust, my body rocking. Mike’s face turned red, then a little purple and I felt his cock harden inside me. I groaned. Too fast! I wasn’t quite there yet! But then he popped, his cock rippling and thrusting and throbbing in this exquisite internal dance.

He collapsed on top of me, mouth on my breast as I held in my disappointment. I so wanted to cum! And I had been so close! But as I’ve been reminded recently, my own pleasure is second to what I provide others. That’s the point of being a nympho humiliation pain slut. My purpose is to be hurt and embarrassed and be screwed for others pleasure. My own is immaterial.

Yeah. Tell that to my clit.

Mike rolled off me a moment later, which I didn’t like. Despite his weight, I enjoy being pinned like that. I rolled with him, keeping my skin in contact with his.

“Oh God, Breanne that was wonderful!” he gasped. I grinned.

“Of course it was. It was me!” I said. Then I kissed him softly. “Now, what was it you wanted to show me?” I asked.

Mike blinked. “Oh! Oh yeah!” He took a deep breath, still reveling in the afterglow of the moment. Screwing me is like that. Most guys need to take a moment to recover!

He rolled to the side and then got to his feet. He was then a gentleman and helped me up. I felt another twinge between my legs as my pussy complained that it hadn’t gotten enough. Mike grabbed his boxers and jeans and quickly got into them. I stayed naked. I’m used to it.

A moment later Mike was leading me through the giant glass doors leading to his backyard and that blue pavilion tent I had seen through the kitchen window. We stepped out into the heat and I sort of hop skipped along with Mike across the walk until I was able to step in the grass. The concrete felt like I was walking on a hot plate. The temperature was only marginally cooler under the tarp, but the humidity still made it uncomfortable. Even naked I started to perspire a bit.

Mike approached the tarp covered object and grabbed hold of the olive drab plastic. With a mighty yank he pulled it off, his face staring at mine, his eyes delighted. I looked down in expectation and…

…wondered what the hell it was.

The rest of Breanne Erickson's "Mike's Machine" is available as part of  "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut! Volume 5"  Check it out today!