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