Daily Assignment: Bucket

Breanne - Today you are to take a pair of elastic bands and your clover clamps out to the barn. Once there you are to fill a bucket with water and place it in one corner of the barn. Give yourself 30 snaps on each foot. Taking of your top you are then to attach the clover clamps to one nipple, thread the chain under the buckets handle and then onto your other nipple. You are then to move the bucket to the opposite corner of the barn by lifting it with your nipple chain. You are not allowed to touch it, slide it across the floor or spill any. If you do spill any you are to refill the bucket and start again. you are to complete this task once for each time you came yesterday. You might need to adjust the amount of water in the bucket my aim after all is to hurt you without harming you so bear that in mind. Also I'm not sure if your new piercing will help or hinder things with the clover clamps you may need to switch to the alligators or binders. – Master Barrett

It was comfortably cool on Friday afternoon. I had spent most of the morning sitting in front of the computer, either writing or folding laundry, more of one than the other. Are you surprised? What’s a nympho humiliation pain slut doing folding laundry? Well, sorry to disappoint you, but even sluts like me need something to wear.

Occasionally at least.

But don’t worry. I was still following NHPS Rule #1 and the vibroballs were purring their gentle stimulation through me, slowly but surely working me toward a climax far ahead. Of course I had been told not to cum, just as I had been told the previous day, and while I had managed to keep my raging libido in check yesterday, I had my doubts about whether or not I’d be able to manage it today.

Especially since I had a small assignment to complete.

After lunch I gathered up a few things I would need, and even MIGHT need. The first item was simply two thick tan rubber bands. The second item I needed was my Japanese clover clamps, a set of silver colored metal nipple clamps that are specially designed to be removable only when unclamped, rather than pulled or tugged off. With these in my jean pockets, I headed downstairs and out to the barn.

Our barn is pretty decent sized, complete with a number of stalls, storage, a rather impressive work bench, and even parking for our tractor and a number of attachments. I try to keep enough space open inside to make sure it never gets cluttered, and if I do say so myself, I do a much better job keeping things organized than my father ever did. I remember growing up weaving my way through all sorts of crap when I was a kid. Now… it’s neat and clean.

Hope Dad doesn’t read this.

Anyway once I got to the barn I made my way to a pile of haybales near the stalls. I’ve used this platform for a wide variety of sexual experiences, but what I was about to do wasn’t exactly about sex. Even the buzzing of the vibroballs wasn’t sufficient to make what I was about to do easier. I tugged off my boots, then peeled off my socks, leaving bare feet. Then I pulled out the rubber bands from my pocket and slipped them over my toes.

The elastic rubber fit closely to my arch and across the top, but not tightly. I took a deep breath as I propped my right foot up on my left leg, just above my knee. I reached down, snagged the rubber band with my fingers, and drew it out as far as it would stretch. Then with my teeth grit tightly, I let go.

In some ways, that first snap always feels like being slapped across my breasts. It’s a sudden shock, alarming. It stings, but doesn’t really hurt, at least not yet. Even if you’re braced and ready for it, there is still this shock which runs through your body. Don’t believe me? Go get a rubber band.

Or if you’re female and really daring, find someone to slap your breasts once.

I switched feet, crossing my legs the other way and picking at the rubber band drawn across my left arch. I pulled, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, and then let go. Once again, the impact stung and I felt every muscle in my left leg tighten even as my toes curled inward and I hissed. I took another deep breath and brought my right foot up.

Bastinado, or foot whipping is a kind of corporal punishment used to torment prisoners by hurting the cluster of nerve endings in the bottoms of their feet. Basically you take a cane, rod, club, or even a whip, and proceed to beat the sole of each foot. It hurts likes the dickens, rarely leaves marks or serious damage, and under the correct circumstances, can even be erotic.

Like if the girl in question is nude, mounted on a sybian motorized masturbator, with her feet perfectly positioned for a whipping.

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

Every Three Hours

I’m sitting here contemplating. It’s only about fifteen minutes until I have to start and I’m about as prepared as I can be. I’ve already taken off my jeans and left them on the bed. My panties are still on of course, but that’s not really an issue. My real problem is the fact that I’m relatively desperate, terribly bothered, and so frantic for an orgasm that I’m not sure I can do this again.

This will be the third time. I’ve always had mixed feelings about edging. It’s actually a simple process. You bring yourself as close to the point of orgasm as you can, but don’t actually cum. It takes skill, willpower, and a hell of a lot of personal strength. It probably also helps not to be turned on to the point you’d be perfectly willing to screw a fucking cactus if it meant you could cum.

I was at that state and had been for hours. Not that I was going to fuck a cactus. No, I’m afraid that my toy had already been selected for me that morning. I could feel it inside me, filling me up, sitting quietly, still as a statue. I’ve endured so many different objects, from cock to corn dogs and I have to admit that my twelve inch long Core Driller dildo is one of those toys that never cease to amaze me.

It’s hard but slightly pliable rubber and it looks a lot like a rocket ship. I’ve joked around that if you painted it white and slapped a “NASA” sticker on it, you could sell it in a toy store. The base goes all the way out to a full three and a half inches, more than wide enough to make sure that if you have it all the way in, you are uncomfortably spread. Of course, I don’t think many girls could handle it being all the way in. I can though, not that I had a choice. The first time it went in I had to sit on it and you quickly learn how to adjust to having a foot’s worth of hard rubber embedded in your guts.

Why did I have a 12 inch dildo inside me? NHPS Rule #1 of course. A nympho humiliation pain slut is required to keep her pussy ready, wet, and wanting at all times in order to be prepared for whatever uses her masters or mistress (or the random guy on the street) asks of her. To keep her wet and ready, she has to keep either cock or a toy up inside her. Oh… and it can’t be the same toy every day either. Otherwise you get used to it.

This morning I was tasked to put in the Core Driller. That in and of itself wouldn’t have been a problem, but there were additional requirements placed upon me. Master Barrett felt that just having the dildo embedded inside me was insufficient for keeping me in the state he prefers: desperate. So he ordered up a little seasoning for this delectable dish between my legs. Every hour, on the hour, I am to take the dildo out, lick it clean, and then lubricate it fully, the entire length, with a fresh coating of Stinging O.

Stinging O is an all natural oil that Kari makes for me. It’s a combination of grapeseed oil, cinnamon oil, and pepper oil, mixed in appropriate amounts for my personal levels of tolerance. The cinnamon oil keeps things tingling while the pepper oil heats things up. It’s quite invigorating and the only thing I’ve encountered that even comes close to the same sensation is that IcyHot muscle cream, except if you use that internally it will poison you. I’m a sex slut. Not stupid.

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

Walking the Mall Will Never Be the Same

10/25/11

It was like she KNEW. Beats me how she knew. I didn’t tell her what day, just that “this is what I have to do.” How does Kari know? Beats me. But it’s like she WANTED me overly aroused, too wet, and set up for failure. It seems to be a common condition for all my masters or mistresses. Why bother to give Breanne a fucking chance when it’s so much more fun to watch her fail miserably?

The vibroballs had been stuffed up inside me since before five am that day, buzzing away on low, with the stipulation that I not cum. That in and of itself isn’t that bad of a torment since I’m relatively used to the low intensity vibrations from that particular toy. Sure… the whole day? Probably not, but I could easily last four or five hours, maybe even longer depending on the circumstances, before it getting dangerous for me. Of course Kari planned for that too. If I got close, and I mean like almost an edge close, I was to turn off the vibroballs for twenty minutes. The idea being that I stay desperate, rather than sexually satisfied.

It was nine thirty in the morning and I was parked on a gravel strip next to the farm to market road which runs behind our ranch. It’s not exactly a busy road, which is good because at that particular moment I was completely naked, standing in the buff, removing the ben wa balls. My regular clothes, the blue jeans, tee shirt, bra and panties, even my socks, were carefully folded and laid out on the hood of my truck. My new outfit was there too, ready and waiting, as soon as I stuffed the Husky dildo up inside myself.



I like my Husky dildo. It’s nine inches of firm but pliable rubber, flesh toned, and cast in the shape of a rather well endowed man’s cock. It’s the kind of sex toy you can really sink your… uh… you can really sink INSIDE your self. I like it because it feels good, isn’t TOO big, unlike my Core Driller dildo, and it even comes with a chopped off pair of half balls which makes a nice big base to allow it to stand upright when needed. Of course the Husky dildo has its draw backs as well. For example, it won’t stay in by itself. Either I need to have my vaginal muscles clamped tight around it (non-stop), or I need to be wearing some panties or shorts, preferably both depending on how deep you want it inside me. Hell, on laundry days I’m normal attired in a skirt and panties. Every time I stand up, the Husky dildo slides about four to five inches out of my pussy. Then when I sit back down, well you can imagine what THAT feels like.

My pussy was soaked thanks to Kari’s manipulation of my daily sex toy. I have to follow NHPS Rule #1 which basically says that I have to have something in my pussy 24/7. It’s not an easy rule to follow, but it can be a fun one. Where it gets interesting is when you get a sadistic master or mistress who likes screwing with the stipulations of whatever toy you’re wearing. It makes a difference. So when I slid that Husky in there, it was really easy. I tightened every muscle between my legs as I struggled to pull on the tee shirt I was planning on wearing. It was a simple light pink shirt with “Help Wanted!” written in bold across the front, along with several stick men figures (I suppose with stick WOMEN figures, though you couldn’t tell) in a variety of compromising positions. Underneath the pictures of stick figures having sex, the words “Many positions available. Start right away!” made things about as embarrassing as possible. I have a whole collection of tee shirts like this. Kari bought them to humiliate me. They work really well.

It took a moment to adjust my breasts properly. I’d have been doing that even had my right nipple NOT be sporting a twenty four karat gold plated ring, complete with a gold plated, rose engraved padlock. Granted, the stupid hardware was small, but with my tee shirt being as tight as it is, the outline of my piercing and padlock are immediately and easily recognizable. On the flip side, it definitely serves as a conversation starter.

Still keeping the dildo up inside myself, I slipped the blue denim skirt up over my ass. It wasn’t exactly too short, but it wasn’t exactly respectable either. It was clearly a “please look at my ass” skirt, the kind that covers everything but encourages you to keep your eyes locked on a person’s below the waist movements. It wasn’t tight either. I wouldn’t exactly be doing the splits in that skirt, but I could have certainly taken a full length stride in it, and not shown my goods.

Of course the Husky dildo would in all likelihood fall out if I DID take such a big step.

Which is what this was all about. If you read my LAST little tale then you might already know what I did last week. It was a simple assignment really. Wear a skirt and sexy tee shirt, no bra, no panties, and walk around the mall with my Husky dildo stuffed up inside me. The idea was to strength my pussy, since I’d have to keep it tight the entire time. Of course there were some rules about what happens if it falls out. Needless to say, Master Barrett, who had assigned the task to me, was not too happy about how things turned out. His assigned punishment was to do the task again. Except this time things were going to be a lot harder.

So… like… if I FAIL at an assignment, why should the punishment for failing the assignment be to do the assignment AGAIN, except this time making it harder so it’s even MORE LIKELY I will fail?

First of all, wearing exactly the same outfit, I was to head back to the mall on a slow day. And I needed it to be a day that I knew Julie would be working. But this time I was to bring two additional toys: my butterfly clitoral vibrator and my alligator nipple clamps.

According to Master Barrett, the point of the initial assignment was to wear the Husky dildo for the entire hour I was there, and I screwed that up. So the “punishment” assignment was to rectify my mistakes from the first time. Remember the store greeter? The one in the sports store? Yeah, well I have to try and find him. And when I do …

But hey… why ruin the surprise?

Finally dressed I winced my way back to the cab of the truck, the hard pointed gravel digging into the soft soles of my feet. Once inside I was finally able to relax as I allowed my vaginal muscles to loosen, trusting to the vinyl seat of my truck to keep the Husky dildo buried firmly between my legs. Sometimes I wish the shocks on my truck weren’t quite as good as they are. I put the truck in gear and headed toward the mall.

As usual, I parked outside the Sports and Camping store. I like this place. Oh… not because I’m a big sports and camping girl, though I do enjoy that sort of stuff. Mostly I like it because I’ve had more sexual encounters in this one store than any other at the mall. I’ve had sex in the dressing rooms, some of the large boats on display, in the stock room, even behind a sales counter. It’s been a good place to get laid.

Of course, I also fell once, right at the door, after twisting violently in an attempt to prevent a nine inch, well lubricated dildo from falling out of my pussy. I failed miserably, ending up on my ass, with my legs spread wide, my skirt practically around my waist, while completely showing my sex to a very surprised middle aged, gray haired guy who was assigned to greet guests at the entrance.

It was imperative that I find him. Master Barrett had made it very clear that if I dropped the dildo at any time I had to hand it to someone, a stranger, and ask them to put it back in as well as give my ass twenty firm and painful spanks. As it was, Master Barrett felt that if anyone deserved to help me out, it was this man, the greeter. So after putting on my stupid fuck me high heels, and with a trembling heart and an already aching pussy, I walked my way into the sports store, praying that I would be lucky, that he’d be there.

My heart fell almost all the way down to my stomach when instead of being greeted by my older gentleman, I was given a look of repugnance and surprise from the cute little teenage girl who was greeting guests. She didn’t even bother to say hello, which I thought was quite rude. Of course I was mortified at my attire. You have to understand, I DON’T like dressing like this. I hate it. I’m the center of attention, and it’s not GOOD attention.

The rest of "Waking The Mall Will Never Be The Same" by Breanne Erickson is now available in her novel "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 5"  Check it out today!

A Tight Pussy is a Good Pussy

10/18/11

I put the truck in park and contemplated what I was about to do. Thanks to a rather nice cold front, October in Texas had actually become somewhat pleasant. Actually, at ten in the morning, it was still a bit nippy out. You have to understand, I live in south Texas and for us, an October day, even in late October, where the high isn’t expected to get up to seventy five degrees, is sort of odd. Not that I mind! Oh no… after this last summer of unending heat and hundred degree days and feeling like I was permanently working while under a hot hair dryer, I welcomed the cool morning. In all honesty, I prefer winter anyway. Most farm girls do.

That said, I was not quite looking forward to what I was about to do. The problem wasn’t the Husky dildo. That was already inside me, splitting my insides nicely and with minimal fuss, held in place by my panties and blue jeans, both of which did an admirable job in keep the nine inch long cock shaped rubber phallus buried in my pussy. No, the problem was the fact that I was about to change out of those jeans and panties and wear something that would allow that still chilly air to swirl around my ankles, my legs, my loins, my abdomen, even my breasts and arms. That’s what I wasn’t looking forward to.

I climbed out of the truck. I guess I should quantify that adjective. Yes, I climbed. It’s not that I have a monster truck or anything. Technically it’s my dad’s truck and it’s a classic Ford F-150. But I’m five foot two and a quarter and let’s just say that calling me “vertically challenged” is the polite way of saying “damn, she’s short!” Not super short of course, but just enough to make it awkward getting down dishes from the top shelf of the kitchen cabinets. But I don’t complain.

That would be beneath me.

(Get it?)

Anyway I climbed down from the cab of the truck and moved to the front grill along with my new outfit. The road I was parked on was deserted, which was rather normal, especially considering that there were barely enough people living on it to qualify for asphalt. We’re damn lucky it’s even paved. My dad actually remembers when it wasn’t. So I wasn’t expecting a convoy or even a single vehicle to come over the hill behind me, or to drive up the long straight section from the other direction.

I started by taking off my boots. Let’s face it, if you’re wearing jeans, that’s ALWAYS where you start. Sure, I suppose I could have peeled off the button up blouse I was wearing, but the wind was pretty stiff, even at ten in the morning and frankly I knew it was going to chill me the moment I stripped naked. So why hurry things, right?

Once my boots were off, I peeled off my socks. Stepping gingerly in the gravel, I unbuckled my belt and pushed down the heavy blue denim. The little stones hurt my feet a little, but it didn’t really bother me. What I did feel was the immediate coolness of the breeze against my bare thighs and little goose bumps appeared on my skin. I stepped out of my blue jeans and then started unbuttoning my shirt.

I know. You’re wondering why I didn’t remove my panties before my shirt, especially since I was cold. Well, for one reason, I rarely do. I mean… usually I leave my panties and bra for last. It’s just… well… I try to minimize the amount of time I’m buck naked out here. Technically if a sheriff’s deputy drives by at the right moment, I could possibly get arrested for public nudity and once they found whatever toy was stuck up inside me, an added charge of public lewdness would be found. Never mind the fact that only a few cows and possibly an errant emu would see anything. That said, I’ve never even seen a patrol car on our little farm to market road, so I’m not terribly worried and to be honest, the few times I’ve been interrupted the drivers who saw me were very appreciative. The other reason I didn’t remove my panties at that point was because of the Husky dildo. It generally won’t stay in by itself without some serious help.

So I unbuttoned my shirt. It didn’t take long and I sucked in a breath as the cool wind splashed across my chest. Granted, later on in the season, I’d be handling fifty degree weather, naked, like a pro. But I’ve become acclimated to heat over the last eight months and this change of season was quite a shock. My I shivered once and pulled off the shirt. The bra went next and both nipples turned rock hard. There was a dull ache in my right breast where my little golden hoop and the tiny padlock dangled, but it didn’t slow me and I quickly pushed my panties to my ankles and clamped my thighs together to make sure that the Husky wouldn’t fall to the ground. I gingerly stepped out of my undies and finally, buck naked, I was ready to get dressed.

I started off with the tee shirt I had chosen for the day. In this particular case it was a light pink shirt with “Help Wanted!” written in bold across the front, along with several stick men figures (I suppose with stick WOMEN figures, though you couldn’t tell) in a variety of compromising positions. Underneath the pictures of stick figures having sex, the words “Many positions available. Start right away!” made things about as embarrassing as possible.

I have a whole collection of shirts like this. All of them are a size too small and some are rather worn, almost threadbare. Part of this is because they’re old and I haven’t exactly been replacing them as they’ve torn or otherwise self-destructed. Kari, my long time best friend and mistress bought them for me my freshman year of college, when we were living together and they were my constant uniform. Do you know how difficult it is to FUNCTION on a college campus constantly wearing a short short skirt, high heels, no panties, some sort of sex toy, and a tee shirt that says “Don’t Stare! TOUCH!” on it? The number of guys who just…

Well… let’s not reminisce, right?

With my top covered, sorta, I turned my attention to the skirt. It was blue denim, much like my shorts, and while it was short, it wasn’t inappropriate. It was also flared, giving me a lot of wiggle room and allowing me a larger stride. Why did I choose this over some tight form fitting elastic type skirt? Simple. The assignment made it very clear what was needed and a skirt that allowed me to actually do the splits and still probably cover everything was EXACTLY what the assignment required. So don’t second guess me! Okay?

Shivering, I gathered up my clothes, my socks, my boots and with my pussy clamped around the Husky dildo, my vaginal muscles locked, I sort of scooted toward the truck cabin and relative warmth. A few moments later I was driving away, barefoot, the Husky dildo held in place by the vinyl seat as I slowly rocked my hips, enjoying the slight up and down movement my looser attire afforded me. My panties and jeans had held the Husky dildo in tight. Now, between my much more serious arousal and the fact that I had a good two inches of wiggle room, the dildo was sliding in and out with much more freedom. It felt… good.

I parked at the mall twenty minutes later and leaned over, grabbing my fuck me shoes. These are a pair of high heels that only a stripper or a nympho humiliation pain slut would wear, and then only one of those professions would actually wear them out in public on a routine basis. Strippers hate them actually. Or at least the strippers I’ve talked too. The elevated soles make the shoes dangerous to walk on and you should see the care those girls take to make sure they don’t fall. Hell, I’ve fallen in them and it’s NOT a pretty sight. You can break an ankle that way!

On the flip side, I’ve had a lot of experience walking in them and despite the elevation (and trust me, I could use every bit of height advantage I can get) the heels aren’t THAT high. Technically, if it wasn’t for the four inch platforms, the heels would only be four inches. That said, the spike on each shoe was a good eight inches long. All of this is sort of moot and not really important except for one thing. When someone sees a girl wearing these sort of shoes, it’s an instant neon like sign declaring one thing.

Slut.

Add bare legs, a short skirt, a slightly bared midriff, a super tight sexually explicit tee shirt, no bra, with a strange and obvious piercing and outline of a padlock on her right breast, and that sign might as well read “nympho humiliation pain slut.”

Do I like dressing this way? Hardly. I hate it. I HATE having to go out dressed like a tramp, a whore, a girl who has no morals. I hate the way people look at me. Men look at me like I’m a steak, an object, a person with no brains whose only purpose is to be stripped naked and fucked. Women usually are repelled by me, disgusted at my attire, my behavior. I’ve heard the most incredible insults, things you couldn’t imagine decent people saying. I’ve been spit on, slapped, shoved. I’ve been insulted. And then of course there are a few women who look at me with envy instead of with loathing. And even more rarely, a few women who look at me with that same hunger I associate with men. But through it all, I hate being that object, that focus of animal lust, of powerful negative emotions.

So why do it?

Because it makes me cum.

Yes. I know. I’m sick.

I took a deep breath and got out of the truck. The high heels touched the pavement and I found my balance before I took even a single step. Now that I was vertical and not sitting, I was clenching my pussy around the Husky dildo, holding the long slippery cock shaped rubber rod inside myself with an iron will and determination. It wasn’t easy. Even at the beginning of the assignment I could tell that if I relaxed, even for a moment, I would be picking the damn thing up off the ground, and the repercussions outlined by Master Barrett for such an offense were… well… not terrible actually, but not something I wanted to endure. Spankings can be such a trial sometimes.

But this whole assignment was really about humiliating me. It wasn’t about pain, or fucking a whole bunch of people. It was simply embarrassing the shit out of me in a public forum, while giving me just enough control over the whole situation to make my total and ultimate humiliation my own fault. Let the dildo drop, let everyone see it fall wetly out from between your legs, and watch the little nympho humiliation pain slut turn scarlet from abject mortification.

I started walking into the mall, taking my usual entrance through the sports and camping store. It’s one of my favorite spots, mostly because I’ve been screwed so often in it. I even had sex in a BOAT at this place, but that’s a story for another time. As it was, I wasn’t on the hunt for sex this time. The goal was to walk, simply walk, for an entire hour.

And try not to let the dildo fall out of my pussy.

Master Barrett had allowed me to choose my own “toy” for this assignment, with only a few specifications. To be honest, the Husky dildo had been the only choice anyway, since everything else I own that would have met his requirements was much narrower and even smoother. I suppose in hindsight I should have bought a cucumber or zucchini or something and carved it with spirals or rough bumps to give me more of a chance of keeping it in, but to be honest, I had believed that to be against the spirit of the assignment. So I had chosen my nine inch long dildo, totally life like, and went about my business.

I was wearing a watch too, which I was keeping a close eye on. My steps were by necessity small, partly because I didn’t want to fall, but partly because I could feel the juices leaking out from between my legs, wetting my thighs, and I was trying very hard to keep my legs pressed together. I’m just grateful that Master Barrett didn’t specify a number of laps to get done in a set period of time either, with a brutal punishment to reward failure. As it was, caution and a supremely slow pace, managed to keep the Husky Dildo buried between my legs for a good long time.

One of the things I didn’t expect however, was my arousal. I was getting those “looks”, despite the fact that my ass and pussy weren’t on display. I was the center of attention and the mall wasn’t that busy, which meant that it was very very easy to see me and I noticed when people were looking at me. That emotional issue rapidly translated into a physical one that aroused me dangerously and each step, my pussy tight around the rubber cock, slowly created a dangerous longing inside me. After twenty minutes I started wriggling a bit with each step, trying to see if there was a way to move the dildo inside me to create what I was longing for. Not much worked. Of course I’m sure anyone watching me was enjoying the show because I was twisting and moving like a snake on a hot plate.

Desperation isn’t a pretty thing, especially when it involves sexual release and you are out in public. I could feel my thighs getting wetter, slick with my own juices and it became a struggle. My pussy was tired and I wanted to sit down, to ram the rubber cock up into me, to bounce even. In a moment of tired distraction, I felt the Husky dildo slip, sliding out of my body.

I caught it. Oh, not with my hand. That would have been so totally wrong. I squeezed. I looked around wildly, frightened since I was standing in the middle of the mall corridor with staring people all around me. I had about four inches inside me and I was squeezing the daylights out of the top of that dildo as if I were hanging on by my finger tips to a cliff. I turned beat red, scarlet, flushing in abject terror as I was absolutely sure that the thick half set of anatomically correct set of testicles that formed a bit of the base of my Husky dildo were completely visible.

I immediately turned, headed into a store, and ducked between the aisles of shoes. Reasonably alone (the clerks were over by the counter and had not yet approached) I realized I was in a predicament. Master Barrett had made it very clear that I wasn’t to keep the dildo in using my hand. Did that mean I wasn’t allowed to touch it with my hand, except to reinsert the whole thing after it fell? Did it mean a partial escape was not allowed to be touched? What exactly did this mean? I pondered it for a moment, but then solved the whole problem even as one of the clerks entered the aisle.

I sat down on one of the little benches, forcibly ramming the Husky dildo a full five inches back into my pussy. This was a combination of “oh my God that was fucking awesome” and “ooohhh, that’s a lot of thick hard cock going in very deep.” I groaned in both relief and ecstasy, which caused the shoe clerk to raise an eyebrow even as she came up to me and asked if she could help me.

We both looked down at my shoes.

Unfortunately, the rest of the tale is no longer available on our blog. But it is available in Breanne Erickson's "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 5" available in e-book format from fine booksellers. Also be sure to check out the BreanneApedia to get the full low down on everything Breanne!

Breanne- I have started to become worried that keeping you constantly stuffed may be causing your pussy to become loose, and if you aren't a nice tight fuck what use are you? So to make sure you keep nice and tight you are to undertake the following task. You are you wear a nice short skirt, stripper shoes, a slutty t-shirt and no panties to a mall. You are to stuff yourself with something cock shaped (you can use one of your toys if you wish but something a bit less smooth would probably be a good idea) it can't be bigger at the tip than the base and must be at least six inches long and a inch in diameter.

You are to spend an hour walking the mall using you pussy muscles (and not your hands!) to keep the toy in. Should it fall out at any point you are to approach a stranger and say the following exactly "Excuse me sir I've been trying to keep this in my pussy but I'm too loose and it fell out. Could you please put it back in and spank me twenty times for being such a bad slut?"

After the toy is replaced you are to continue the walk for the remainder of the hour. It should go without saying but I'll say it anyway I know how you love a loop hole the clock stops when you are unstuffed. Oh and one more thing depending on your performance you may need to repeat this test until you can complete it to a satisfactory standard. - Barrett

Breanne's Three - Chicago BDSM

New from Michael Alexander Stories! "Breanne's Three - Chicago BDSM" A college aged Breanne travels to the Windy City to meet with an online dom who only has her best interests at heart! He proceeds to inflict a weekend's worth of sexual torment on her young and nubile body, humiliating her as well as pitting her stamina against another young lady who idolizes Breanne. Breanne passes along her wisdom, teaching young Megan that asking "did you enjoy it?" is never the right question to ask a nympho humiliation pain slut!

Originally entitled "The Trip", only available in the VIP Lounge of Michael Alexander Stories, this revised and edited edition, is now available from Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.com in e-book formats. Get yours today and find out just what antics Breanne was up to during college!

Amazon Barnes And Noble

* We should note that "Breanne's Three - Chicago BDSM" is fiction and like Michael Alexander's "The Silver Locke" and "Museum of Inquisition", stars the character BASED on Breanne Erickson. That said however, if you enjoy Breanne Erickson's antics, "Breanne's Three - Chicago BDSM" should definitely appeal to you!

For a sneak peak click here!

A Little Black Dress For Naughty Girls

Shai2791 by `Pelicanh on deviantART

Like all girls, those interested in the darker side of things need a little black dress just as much as "good girls" do. Amazing picture.

Assignment: Posterior Impalement

10/05/11

Unfortunately, the rest of the tale is no longer available on our blog. But it is available in Breanne Erickson's "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 5" available in e-book format from fine booksellers. Also be sure to check out the BreanneApedia to get the full low down on everything Breanne!

Blogging Her Knockers

Recently at the HellFire Caves BDSM Forum, I was directed to a spectacular new blog entitled "Blogging Her Knockers", a blog dedicated to the TOP half of the female form. The blog is relatively new, but rather well conceptualized and deserves to be checked out. Of course, I've linked "Blogging Her Knockers" into my "interesting blogs" list, so you'll always be able to find a hot link to that sweet blog. But seriously, you should really check those knockers out, and if you can, contribute a picture of your own!

As you can see, I've already contributed a some shots from MY collection!

In The Dark (An Anthology)

Michael Alexander presents "In the Dark (An Anthology)", a compilation of earlier works in e-book format. "In the Dark (An Anthology)" contains many favorites from the Free Archive, including "The Chapel in the Woods", "Three Sets", "The Painter", and also finishes out the entire Arcade Series, including "The Crane" a story previously only available to Michael Alexander's VIP Lounge members. This book brings together the various short stories that have delighted readers for over a decade at the BDSM Library and other online story repositories. Contains some illustrations! Now you can own them yourself and read them over and over again. Available on both the Amazon Kindle and the Barnes and Noble Nook, delve into the secret shadows of the some of the best BDSM erotic fiction ever written and see just what hides In the Dark.

Visit Amazon.com! - Did you know that you don't have to have an actual Kindle to read Kindle formatted works? Amazon.com provides a FREE PC version of the Kindle programming, allowing you to read Kindle books on your laptop or tablet computer!

Visit Barnesandnoble.com!

In the Dark (An Anthology) contains:

The Chapel In The Woods
The Painter
The Classroom Ordeal
The Staircase
The Phonecall
The Phonecall in the Park
The Sorceress' Garden
The Spa
Three Sets
The Arcade Series: DDR
The Arcade Series: Tower of Terror
The Arcade Series: Boonga Boonga
The Arcade Series: The Crane
Angie's Humiliation
Angie's Experiment
The Dinner
In Their Hands

*A Note From Michael: All of these stories with the exception of The Arcade Series: The Crane are available in the free archive at www.michaelalexanderstories.com. So unless you REALLY just want to own it on Kindle or Nook, or want to support your favorite BDSM Erotica author, please don't buy this book. Just go read the stories! ~ Michael

Gabrielle and the Leviathan Now Available!

Two months ago I posted a short teaser from my erotica/science fiction novella Gabrielle and the Leviathan. I have received a number of communiques from my readers expressing dissatisfaction that it was only available in the VIP Lounge. Following in Ms. Erickson's footsteps, Gabrielle and the Leviathan is now available in e-book format from both Barnes and Noble and Amazon for 99 cents. I hope you enjoy.

The quiet hum of the engines filled the darkened compartment and the only source of illumination came from one of the lit computer terminals. A console of green and tawny lights blinked sporadically, casting alternating gold and emerald hues across the control room. There was an air of quiet despite the steady thrum of the converter, slowly but surely changing the meta-stable metallic hydrogen into gas before it was burned. Four chairs were arranged around the control room, one at each station, but only the position at the master engineering board was occupied.

She was blond and her regulation French braid kept her golden locks tight against her head. The artificial gravity field would have brought her hair almost all the way down to a point between her shoulders, but like most space faring vessels, it was almost a religion that everything was either tied down or secured. Zero G was nothing to laugh about and floating through a veritable cloud of debris during an emergency was not fun. Neither was trying to hold on during a pressure hull breach while thousands of small objects pelted you from above.

Straight backed, she kept a close eye on the monitor board. She enjoyed working the third shift. Her job was simple. Inventory the various tools stored in the control room and monitor the main engineering console for problems. Anything major was handled by informing the on-duty bridge officer and then waking the chief engineer. It was an important responsibility and she had been pleased when she was selected for it. Once more she glanced at the board. Everything was in the green and she settled back into her chair, slowly pouring over an engineering manual on one of the side screens. Perhaps during her next cruise she could get promoted to Engineering Mate, rather than one of the lowest grades of engineering crew.

She fidgeted in the ship suit, a solid one piece gray coverall that zipped all the way from her collar, down the front, between the legs and half way up the back. While sounding uncomfortable, in reality it served rather well. Using the restroom was dramatically easier and the suit’s built in protection shielded the wearer from stray radioactive isotopes, gamma rays, and even stabilized temperature. It could even serve for a limited time as a pressure suit. It was the perfect apparel for shipboard duty and if Amber had selected a rather tight fitting size, it wasn’t due to a vain or self-conscious attitude, but a genuine desire to fit her lithe body into an appropriately contoured uniform. A small sensor bundle was woven into the material just above her left breast, a spot which also sported her rank.

Suddenly a sound came from the elevator shaft and Amber stiffened in her seat, trying to look studious and professional. She heard the telltale whine of the lifter field cushioning the elevator and then the normal hiss of the doors told her she was no longer alone.

“Hey Amber,” a soft voice said from the doorway. Amber looked up from the main engineering station and saw another tightly fitting ship suit in the doorway. She grinned as Lori came into the control room, shaking out her long brown hair. It was definitely a violation of regulation, but Amber knew that Lori was off duty and frequently bent the rules when it was unlikely that an officer would find out. As it was, Amber knew that the ship’s executive officer, Rebecca, wouldn’t do her rounds for a few more hours.

“Hi Lori. What are you doing down here this late?” Amber asked curiously as Lori sauntered in. They had both worked together on the second shift before Amber had been promoted, ostensibly with a pay bonus, to the solo third shift. Their friendship had just begun to get interesting when it was nipped in the bud and Amber had felt the loss rather disconcerting.

Lori walked over to the control station and laid one hand on Amber’s shoulder. The touch was light and almost a caress. “I came to see if you needed anything sweetie, maybe keep you company for a little bit?”

Amber laughed. “I’m good. I’ve got one of the updated manuals on the transfer conduit control system and after that I can read the field system control manual,” she said brightly.

Lori shook her head and clicked her tongue. With a little push she turned the chair Amber was sitting in so that rather than facing the indicator console, the blond girl’s knees were touching Lori’s thighs.

“Isn’t that boring?” Lori asked, leaning forward slightly, her face getting closer to Amber. The little blond blinked as the large and dark brown globes of Lori’s incredible eyes glittered inches away and Amber could smell the scented strawberry lipstick that she knew Lori favored. Amber swallowed, but then twisted her head to look at the console again.

“Uh… no. I mean… it’s… I’m… I should be…” Amber said, stuttering, but the words seemed to melt away as Lori let her finger glide down Amber’s cheek. The little blond stiffened slightly and let out a tiny moan.

“Hush now, Amber” Lori’s fingers slid down the blond girl’s neck and across her shoulders, only to come back in at the nape of Amber’s throat. Slowly the zipper tab was pulled downward, opening Amber’s suit.

Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 3!

Michael Alexander Stories is pleased to announce that Volume 3 of Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut by Breanne Erickson is now available from Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com! Did you miss all of those "anniversary" assignments? Well now is your chance to complete your collection! Get "Barter", "Seven Days of Sluttiness", "Doghouse", and fill in the gaps! Some of the tales in this collection were only available via the VIP Lounge! So check it out!