Skirting The Edge III

I have the willpower of mashed potatoes. That’s a metaphor actually, since mashed potatoes don’t exactly have willpower. Think of it more like a description. Mashed potatoes are soft, pliable, warm, easily molded, and can’t really hold back anything more than gravy. And when it comes to edging, that’s a fairly decent description of me.

What’s an edge? What’s edging? You should know by now, especially if you’ve read my first two assignments about it. But for those of you who need to catch up, it’s the practice of masturbating right to the point where you are going to cum, and then stopping. It’s not that easy to do, especially under specific circumstances. Try it. Seriously. Try it right now. While you’re reading this, stroke yourself, masturbate for me and then… no matter where you are in my little tale, right before you’re ready to pop, STOP.

We can be miserable together then!

Yesterday I eschewed my Rotating Venus Penis in favor of my vibroballs mostly because my clit was a bit tender. There had been too much vibration, not to mention the three fifteen minute sessions of alligator clamping that I had earned by NOT stopping when I was supposed. Three orgasms in one day is actually pretty light for me, but when Master Brandon proposed his “incentive” for me not to cum, I thought I’d do better.

Yeah. Right. Try asking an eagle not to fly, or a horse not to run, or a nympho humiliation pain slut not to cum while masturbating.

On day 1 all I had been asked to do was masturbate sixteen times in one day and not cum. Simple right? Cumming was rewarded with a nice alligator clamping for fifteen minutes on my clit and nipples. Ouch… but a serious incentive to NOT cum. I blew it of course. I came four times. That meant on day two I had to do the sixteen edges again, plus an additional four. Plus the incentive to not cum increased: add a butt plug fucking. I still came three times, which you have to admit was a dramatic improvement. Think about that. Day One? 16:4. Day Two? 20:3 and those are pretty good ratios, right?

Well Day Three was even better, despite the fact that I still screwed up and despite the fact that I had added an additional three more edges to the twenty three I was already required to do. I still came. What was my ratio? Well… I’ll just let you discover it.

My morning started normally… well… as normally as it does for any nympho humiliation pain slut. I woke up. I masturbated right to the edge, the RVP still stuck inside me where it had been all night. I turned it on, let myself get right to the brink, and then with a groan turned it off, clenched my fists, bit my lip, and tried to get myself under control. Did a pretty good job too.

Getting up was easy. Removing the RVP wasn’t that hard either. I only felt the occasional twinge. I selected my vibroballs as the “toy of the day” though. That’s Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule #1. Got to stay stuffed. Why rotate? Well that’s simple. If I keep the same toy in me day after day I’ll get used to it. So you got to rotate them. What’s the point of being stuffed 24/7 if you’re just going to allow yourself to adjust?

I headed out to the barn dressed in my work boots, some white tube socks, blue denim shorts, white cotton bikini panties, a tee shirt, and a white lace bra. All it all, a pretty normal morning. Of course, the vibroballs were inside me, but I didn’t have them on. Not at that moment at least. I started my chores, finished up around six or so and climbed up into the seat of our tractor. I turned on the vibroballs to maximum, letting them churn inside me, while my fingers unbuttoned the shorts and I slipped my fingers down into my panties.

I was wet, but then again, I usually am. It’s a normal condition for nympho humiliation pain sluts. Slowly, but with increasing fervor, I worked at my clit, my chest slowly rising and falling as I rubbed myself right to the brink. I skidded toward the edge, my body thrumming with need and want. Desire flooded through me.



And then I remembered. If I came. If lost it. If I exploded. If I fell off over the edge of the cliff, then the punishment was not just getting alligator clamped for fifteen minutes. It wasn’t just having to ram my butt plug up my ass. It was getting out a candle full of hot wax as well, and roasting certain private parts. Namely my nipples and clit.

That’s a lot of hurt just to cum.

I slid to a stop, dragging my hand away from between my legs. As you can expect, I was in quite a state. My eyes were a little unfocused, my legs were trembling, and with something akin to both a desire to continue and desire to stop, I got a grip, buttoned up my shorts, and climbed down from the tractor.

Ha ha! I’m guessing you thought I’d be messing up right then, right!

But no, I held out.

Doing an edge an hour is pretty tough; doing twenty six of them in sixteen hours… that’s a lot harder. That morning out in the barn I managed to get to five before breakfast. Afterward, back out in the heat, the vibroballs purring me into sexual oblivion, it wasn’t until I got to number eight that things sort of fell apart.

The rest of "Skirting the Edge" by Breanne Erickson is now available in her novel "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 5"  Check it out today!