Knees Apart

I got out of my truck and almost wilted it was so damn hot. The humidity was high which meant that my shirt and shorts were sticking to my skin, and frankly my panties were crawling up my ass. I winced a little too. Wedgies aren’t comfortable to begin with and when you also happen to have a clothespin down the front, hanging on to something tender and a bit swollen, tight panties are a liability.

I think it’s definitely a case for going commando most of the time.

Moving to the front of the truck was simplicity in itself. The road was empty in both directions and I expected it to remain that way. High heat, humidity, and the fact that my Farm To Market road goes nowhere, helps keep it that way. It was barely ten o’clock in the morning and already I could see heat shimmers where the road was practically steaming.

I tugged off my shirt. It stuck to my skin and I had to wriggle as much as I do when I’m wearing the ultra tight ones I had back in college. I folded, despite the dampness, and laid it on the hot hood. My bra came next, folded in half as my breasts suddenly seemed to glisten in the morning Texas sunlight. I shoved my shorts down next, hissing as the clothespin twisted slightly as I moved, pulling my flip flop clad feet through the leg holes. Extracting my panties was interesting. They were more than damp, but that wasn’t the fault of the late summer heat or high humidity. That was because I was stuffed with a pair of ben wa balls, two golf ball sized spheres designed to rotate and ring inside a girl with every step.

I peeled the panties down, had to remove my flip flops to get them off, and then stood there naked for a moment. Eyes closed, fingers searching, I reached down between my legs. The first thing I felt was the clothespin, dangling dangerously from my clit, a reminder from Master Barrett that as a nympho humiliation pain slut, my purpose was to be abused. Or to give pleasure to others… or something like that. I forget. Or is it to hurt? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s all of those things.

I lifted the clothespin with a finger, which elicited a pretty intense hiss from me. The clothespin had already dangled there for thirty minutes and I figured it would be there for quite a while to come. But I then moved a bit lower and snagged the loop of string that barely stuck out from between my fat pouty nether lips. A steady pull popped the first ben wa ball out and a then the second followed. I hate taking those things out. It always feels so… disappointing.

I opened my mouth and popped the first ball in, sucking it clean of my juices. I’ve been trained to do that from the time I was fifteen. Kari always made sure that I had to clean all of my own toys. It’s a simple process. Unless it’s been in my ass, I suck or lick them clean, then wash them, then douse them in rubbing alcohol. Simple, right? Well, I wasn’t going to be able to wash and soak the ben wa balls, at least not for a while, so after I sucked the juice off them, I put them in a plastic baggie and put them on the hood of the car.

Then I grabbed my vibroballs.

Why the switch? Master Barrett’s instructions of course. Ben wa balls are effective for lots of walking, but frankly, even doing laps and stairs, the ben wa balls can’t make me cum any more. Sure, they get me soaking wet and so desperate that I’d be willing to fuck just about any reasonably healthy male or any appropriately sized and shaped object, but they don’t take me over the edge. The vibroballs can do exactly the same thing the ben wa balls do, but jack the remote to the highest level and I won’t last longer than an hour. Put me in a humiliating or painful situation, and that time frame decreases noticeably.

Slipping the vibroballs in was ridiculously easy thanks to the wet swamp I had created between my legs since five that morning. The clothespin got in the way a bit, and I almost had an orgasm just from moving it aside a few times, but I managed to get everything in place. I laid the remote on the hood of the truck and grabbed the next item I needed; my stockings.

They were separate. Two separate stockings, white stylized lace with an elastic lace top. I had picked these up at one of those “erotica” stores and each stocking only came up to about two inches above the knee. These are not “elegant”. They’re “slutty”, about as slutty as you can possibly get and still wear lace. I had to be careful and put my feet back onto my flip flops, since I didn’t want to tear or dirty the lace.

Had a car driven by at that moment, I’m sure there would have been issues. I was stark naked, with a wire running into my pussy and a wooden clothespin dangling from my clit, while wearing thigh high white lace stockings. If that doesn’t scream “slut” I don’t know what else does.

Oh. A thin super short white and blue flower print summer dress.

No bra of course, that was part of Master Brandon’s orders. So I slipped the summer dress over my skin, felt it cling to me as a bit of perspiration soaked it, and I tugged it down until it covered my ass and pussy.

Barely.

Then I grabbed my fuck me high heels, a pair of “stripper” shoes Barrett had me purchase almost a year before, two crystal shoes with four inch soles and five inch heel which did wonders for my height but critically damaged my sense of balance. It took a moment to get them strapped on over the stockings, but when I was finished I looked…

Like a nympho humiliation pain slut. At least you couldn’t SEE the clothespin dangling out from under the dress. The remote to the vibroballs had fallen to ground and I pulled the wire until it was back in my hand. Then I pulled the stocking top at my right thigh out, and shoved the remote down into my stocking.

Yes. Talk about obvious. And yes, the vibroballs were on low.

I got back in my truck, thanked the Lord for air conditioning, and headed for Houston.

Kari’s office is in a rather upscale part of south Houston, near Rice University. I have no idea what she pays in rent, but she has this incredible suite with a waiting room, two offices, a little kitchenette, and this absolutely huge conference room that I’ve seen converted into a Super Bowl Party room and a sex crib. The architecture is all dark woods and brick and stucco and there is enough tropical landscaping around the building to effectively hide it from satellite surveillance.

I parked next to Kari’s BMW and headed inside. Kari and I had talked on Monday about getting together for lunch and then she invited me to come with her on a furniture shopping expedition. It sounded like fun. Kari is an interior designer if you didn’t know, an upscale, only for the RICH, interior designer. She does corporate offices, million dollar mansions, politician’s homes… that sort of thing. So if we were going furniture shopping for clients, we wouldn’t be stopping at Wal-Mart, that’s for sure. There was also a good chance she would be unhappy with my state of attire.

I went right up to her office and walked in. As usual she was behind her desk, feet up on the credenza behind her, the three hundred dollar high heel shoes glittering. She was dressed in a black business suit, complete with jacket, and a red silk blouse that looked like she had paid well over a thousand bucks for it. Rubies glittered in her ears and at her throat and her iPhone was pressed against the side of her head.

She waved at me as she finished her conversation, half syrupy and half forceful woman. Kari is a dominant personality and I’ve never know man or woman to push her around. Once in high school one of the cheerleaders had decided that Kari wasn’t fit to serve on the homecoming committee and ended up duct taped to a goal post before the game. Not that I’m saying Kari and I had ANYTHING to do with that. Especially since the girl’s top had been pulled up and only duct tape was covering her… um… more salient parts. We had nothing to do with it at all. Seriously. No idea how that happened.

Where was I? So I walked into Kari’s office and she turned in her chair and looked at me, one eyebrow going up as she took in my outfit.

“Alright, Alan. Absolutely. Yes. I have to go now, something’s come up that needs my attention.” She laughed with delight, her smile growing. “I will. Thank you.” Then she put down the phone and looked at me.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting this. What’s the occasion?” Kari asked, her eyes trailing down to my stocking covered legs and the vibroballs remote, complete with wire disappearing under my dress.

I blushed slightly. “NHPS Rule number four,” I replied.

Kari cocked her to the side. “I see. So you’re doing this for me. How… nice.” She stood up and grabbed her purse, an expensive Gucci that I’m guessing cost around five hundred. Then she came around her desk, took my arm, and led me back toward the door. She moved quicker than me and noticed my more hesitant walk and gave me a look.

“Lift your dress for a moment,” she said. I did as ordered and she didn’t even have to bend down to see the clothespin. She sighed. “Well, at least you’re predictable.”

I turned scarlet. “Master Barrett also said…” She cut me off with a waved hand.

“Yes, yes… I’m sure you’re supposed to punish yourself somehow at some point. Well, when you are with me, you will do as I say. Having you dressed like that certainly won’t hurt my reputation and perhaps I can make use of you as well.”

“rubber bands on my feet,” I muttered.

Kari gave me a dark look so I shut up. She sauntered while I took mincing small steps over to her convertible and after just a moment or two I was seated in the passenger seat of Kari’s shark like sports car/convertible. She left the top up and cranked the air conditioner to maximum, then peeled out of the parking lot like a formula one race car driver late off the line.

As we drove Kari looked over at me. My dress had ridden up thanks to sitting down and you could actually see my clothespin. Sorta like a panty peek, but much much worse.

“All right, new rule for today,” Kari announced.

I looked at her. “A new NHPS Rule?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Just a rule for today, sweetie. Your knees…”

“My knees?”

Kari gave me another dark look. “Keep them apart. If I see your knees touching, the punishment will be extreme.”

I swallowed. “Extreme?”

She nodded. “Extreme as in you don’t want to find out what the punishment will be.”

Oh shit… I nodded back at her. “Yes, Kari.”



She smiled, once more all Miss Congeniality. I spread my legs apart, my summer dress sliding even farther up my thighs, exposing ALL of the clothespin… and my slit. But I kept my knees apart. Kari began talking about her latest client’s needs, the style and my world was suddenly awash in foreign concepts like modern and contemporary and industrial and discussing the merits of leather verses microfiber and all this stuff that went in one ear and out the other. We drove north toward the Woodlands and we stopped at this rather upscale furniture retailer.

I got out carefully, making sure that my knees weren’t touching. That was a little awkward of course, and I smoothed down my dress as soon as possible, covering up my exposed rear end not to mention my clothespinned clit. Kari led the way and we strolled through the late morning heat into the store.

You have to understand, being with Kari is sort of like being with a celebrity. People KNOW her, which I find really strange. I wasn’t popular in high school… well… not really. It was Kari and I was considered… well… a slut. Which I was, but I was Kari’s slut. No boys asked me out, ever. They asked Kari out and I was sort of the “bonus” package. Of course after a few discovered and spread around the school that dating Kari meant getting to spank the crap out of me or shove a variety of objects inside me before screwing my brains out, I was pretty darn popular too.

But still… not like Kari. Kari walks into restaurants and the manager comes out to say hello and calls her by name. I’ve met famous people while hanging around Kari. Oh… not like Hollywood people, but it wouldn’t surprise me. But locally famous people. No.. I won’t drop names here. That would get me in trouble, but I’m trying to convey to you what it’s like being next to her, moving around in her world.

So when we walked into that furniture store she was immediately greeted, by name no less, and a rather handsome young man who couldn’t keep his eyes off me was designated to follow Kari around. Evidently this is a common thing because it happened practically at every store we went to. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Kari knew exactly where in the store were the items she had in mind and she headed that way with me and “Ross” in tow.

Kari had her notebook and iPhone out and even pulled out a tape measure and I found myself pressed into service. “Hold this end.” Kari worked methodically making notes, snapping photos of the furniture from all angles, even looking under some of the pieces. I just stood back and let her do it. At one point she sent Ross off to see about the availability of something and she turned to me quickly.

“What did Barrett tell you to do?”

The question surprised me. Not because I didn’t want to answer, but because I wasn’t prepared for it. In fact, after Kari’s declaration, I hadn’t even brought the two rubber bands IN with me. They were still in Kari’s car.

“Uh… twenty snaps of a rubber band to each foot,” I stammered.

Kari frowned. “In those stockings? What’s the point of that? We’ll think of something more appropriate. And get those knees apart. They’re far to close.”

I looked down. I was standing normally, my feet about a foot and a half away from each other. My eyes widened as I realized what she was asking and I took another step outward, spreading my legs. The buzzing of the vibroballs actually became audible, but only barely and you had to be listening for it.

Ross returned a moment later while Kari was examining another couch. They discussed something or other while I stood there, legs spread slightly, making sure my knees didn’t touch.

“Ross, let me ask your opinion. Do you think this couch would be decent for giving out a spanking?” Kari asked, her tone completely normal, as if she were asking “do you have this in leather?”

Our poor sales associate, in his crisp suit sort of just stood there for a moment, his brain trying to shift gears. Sure, he had been staring at me every moment he could. Despite being prettier than me, Kari was playing second fiddle on the sexual attraction gig that morning. My outfit put me ahead of her quite nicely. The fact that even more thigh was showing was certainly a plus.

“Excuse me, Miss Kari?” Ross asked, still trying to frame his mind around the question.

Kari gave him a direct look. “It’s a simple question, Ross. If someone was seated on the couch, do you think the height would be appropriate for an over the lap spanking?”

The poor guy about had a conniption. He stammered something and then raised his hands helplessly. “I have no idea, Miss Kari.”

My former mistress, occasional lover, and forever best friend nodded wisely. “Then we’ll just need to see. Please sit down on the couch, Ross.”

I knew what was coming the moment she said that. I glanced around. We were at the very back of the store, no one else was around, and we were shielded from view by the rows and sections of furniture around us. Ross gave Kari a confused look, but sat down on the couch. I didn’t move. Maybe Kari had something else in mind.

She squatted for a moment, bringing her eye level to the couch arm and then nodded. “Well let’s see. Breanne? If you would please… across Ross’ lap.”

My heart thudded painfully. Sure he was cute, but my god… a spanking? Here? I took a few steps forward, trying not wobble on the stripper shoes. Ross stared at me with shock as I bent over, flashing him a good bit of cleavage before laying myself across his lap. From the waft of cold air I felt, I was quite aware that my entire ass was uncovered and my dress had slipped up to the small of my back.

Ross was in a state of apoplexy but I could feel his hard cock poking me in the stomach. I didn’t feel his hand on me, so I figured he was keeping his hands either by his sides or up.

“Now, if you’ll please give her a few decent swats so I can make sure the height of the couch is sufficient.”

“Please, Miss Kari!” Ross protested.

I heard her displeasure. “Do I need to speak to Mr. Davidson?” Kari asked politely.

Ross stiffened, and I don’t just mean his cock. Whoever Davidson was, it was a direct threat. I felt a hand on my bottom.

“No ma’am,” Ross said, his voice a whisper.

“Good, now please give Breanne a bit of a spanking. Ten strokes should do it.”

I braced myself but the first spank was about as hard as getting hit with a pillow. A feather pillow. Thrown by a three year old. Who is exhausted.

“No, no, no… not like that, Ross. Like this.”



I didn’t have time to brace myself and let out a sharp yelp when Kari’s hand SLAMMED into my ass. It burned. It stung. And while I was gasping the heat suffused outward. My buttocks clenched and I felt my pussy ripen even more.

“Now try again, Ross. That first one didn’t count.”

I was better prepared when Ross delivered his second spank. It wasn’t quite as hard as Kari’s, but it was solid and it stung. I let out a muted moan through my closed lips and arched my back a bit.

“Much better. A little harder on the next one,” Kari encouraged.

The next one was a LOT harder, but because I was ready for it, my wail of pain was nothing more than another strangled squeal. Ross swung again and then again, starting to get into the swing of things.

Ha ha… get it? Swing of things?

Okay… right. So I got spanked. Hard, right there on the sofa. Kari made a few notes while my ass was being blistered and after Ross had delivered the spanks she reached out, took my hand, and pulled me up. My dress fell back down, covering the clothespin, my pussy, and my now hot to the touch rear end.

“I think this one will do nicely,” Kari announced, looking at her notebook. I stood there, not wanting to look anyone in the eyes. I could FEEL the heat from the cheeks of my ass spreading through the cheeks of my face. Ross didn’t say anything either.

“All right, I know exactly what I want.” She turned to Ross and started spitting out items and he yanked a notebook out of his pocket and started writing things down. I just sort of stood there, knees apart, while my hips reacted to the heat in my bottom as well as the slow vibrations of the vibroballs. I was not in a good place at that moment. I was teetering on the orgasmic cliff. For some reason, getting spanked by a totally strange male, in public, wearing a super short thin white and blue flowered summer dress, with my clit caught in a clothespin, and vibroballs buzzing inside me, turned me on.

Wow. What a surprise.

I followed Kari as we made our way back to the front of the store and she gave directions on where stuff was supposed to be delivered and then she spoke with Mr. Davidson and praised young Ross, who still looked a little shell shocked and stared at me. I gave him a little shy smile and then I was taken by the elbow and escorted out by the woman who had just had me spanked.

Back in the convertible I was again reminded to keep my knees apart and then we were off. We hadn’t gone a mile before Kari asked me where my rubber bands were.

“In my purse,” I replied.

“Get one of them out.”

I fished the thick tan rubber band out and held it up.

“Stretch it between your thumb and forefinger.”

I did so.

Then she reached over and pulled my dress down. My breasts popped out and we were in the middle of traffic! I yelped a little in shock and scooted down in the seat. Thank god the windows were darkly tinted!

“Now, put the rubber band against your right nipple,” Kari ordered. I whimpered a bit, but did as she asked.
“Now, just as Master Barrett asked, ten snaps. For each nipple.”

I bit my lip. “He said on the bottoms of my feet!”

Kari shook her head. “That’s impractical considering the stockings. It wouldn’t hurt as much. Besides, this is twice as humiliating and will hurt as much if not more. I want to see red marks on your breasts, Breanne. Snap to it.”

I almost snapped at that last little pun but I know better than to make sarcastic replies to a woman who enjoys whipping me with a leather sap or humiliating me in public. I brought my left hand up, pulled the rubber back, and let go.

Ow.

Actually, “ow” doesn’t quite cover it. The first one was more like “Owwww…” and the fifth one was more like “EEEEEeeeeeeeeeennnggggggg” as I keened into the pain and strangled it. Kari had turned on the radio and Christina Perri’s “Jar of Hearts” came on and I was just sitting there snapping one breast and then the other, back and forth. By the time the song ended I had this slash of red across both nipples. When I hit twenty, it felt like someone had taken a pair of vice grips and given me a good hard long squeeze and then dipped my nipples in hot oil for a frying.

And I was about ready to cum.

Kari seemed to know that too, because her hand snaked down between my open legs, found the clothespin, and flicked it. I don’t know how many times but she didn’t stop till I came wetly in the seat, my hips grinding, my hands cupping my breasts, head thrown back in orgasmic ecstasy. I still hadn’t recovered when she pulled into the parking lot of another furniture store. She hurried me, still dazed with orgasm, out of the car. I stood there in the lot and Kari rolled her eyes at me.

“Your tits are hanging out, stupid.”

I looked down. Both breasts were still exposed. Oops. I hurriedly pulled up my dress. My tender nipples hurt. My clit ached. I followed Kari in.


Part Two and Part Three of Knees Apart will be available in the VIP Lounge of Michael Alexander Stories! Check in there and become a member. Though I guess you COULD wait for "Tales Of A Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 5" if you REALLY want.

*Update: All three parts of Knees Apart are now posted in the VIP Lounge.