Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Bristles



Bristles

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked in a grumpy tone.  Mike, my friend, the hardware store manager, looked up at me with a gleam in his eye. 
                “Of course I am.  It’s not often a girl calls me up and asks me to…”
                I snorted, cutting off his eager explanation.  “Yeah whatever,” I said roughly.  I rocked my hips, trying to get comfortable, but the fact that I was doing the splits on Mike’s couch made things a bit tough.  The rough hemp rope wrapped around each ankle and down over the ends of the sofa, tied off to the legs, was more than enough to keep me from going anywhere.  My thighs were uncomfortably stretched.  Mike finished tying off my wrists as well, putting me in a position that nothing short of a maniac with scissors would be able to free me from.  With a grin, he settled down on the floor in front of me and reached out to touch.
                I groaned.  I wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, something Mike had already taken advantage of several times.  I was practically doing the splits and my exposed sex was glistening already with moisture, the petals opened and the inner flesh exposed.  A thin white wire appeared from the depths of my well.

                “Feel good?” he asked.  His finger slid through my naked slit, stroking the soft folds until he got to my clit.  The triple vibroballs continued to buzz inside me, the large white remote lying along my left thigh. 
                “Very,” I moaned softly.  Mike’s touch was delicate, but also extremely controlled.  His fingers slid up to my clit and worked it round in circles.  I gasped at the caress.  It was light, exquisite, and felt incredible. 
                “I’ve always wanted to try this on a girl,” he said with a grin as he settled down.  He picked up the motorized toothbrush and capped it with a decent dollop of toothpaste. I like the baking soda kind.  With a studiously intense look, he pressed the bristles to my exposed clit and turned on the brush.  I hissed as the little nylon bristles began rubbing at one of the most tender spots on my body and as I tensed, I felt the tingle and sting of the toothpaste as the brush created a tiny froth of bubbles that coated my clit.  I pulled hard against the rope holding me open, unable to close myself or protect my tender bits from the torture.
                “Are you even going to be able to handle thirty minutes of this?” asked Mike, who was now using his wrist to get more back and forth action.  Already my hips were jerking around and my responses were coming in short groaning bursts of sound that really were about as complicated as I was capable of handling at that particular moment.  A mixture of pain and pleasure erupted up from between my legs as Mike swept the brush back and forth across my clit.  I groaned out loud.
                “So you’re anniversary is coming up,” Mike said conversationally.  He lifted the bristles up for a moment and then pushed them back down, driving the little sharp tips into my clitoris and eliciting a groaning cry of desperation from me.  “I feel sort of disappointed that you didn’t ask me for an assignment.  After all, you and I go way back.”  There was a rapid flutter of the toothbrush against my flesh and the nerves in my clit announced loudly that they were being over-stimulated.
                I let out another groan. “I-I-I’m sorry!” I stuttered, my mouth having trouble interpreting my brain, especially when my words were punctuated with ribbons of agonizing sexual torment erupting from between my legs.  It wasn’t just that something was happening to me down there.  It was harsh, like cleanser,  or sand and all I really wanted was for it to stop.  Or more honestly, to get more intense.
                Mike began moving his hand in circles, making sure to brush the sides of my clit and not just the very tip.  I squealed and bucked, my loins thrusting wildly.  The triple vibroballs inside me continued to purr and I began shaking.  The tingling burning of the well frothed toothpaste caused my chest to heave and we weren’t even five minutes into the torment!
                “I was thinking, that if it were me giving you one of the many anniversary assignments you have to do, I would want you to do something  that appealed to a broader audience,” Mike said, still scrubbing.  His movements weren’t terribly forceful, but the heavy nylon bristles scraped against my tingling skin in ways that had me shaking. 
                “A b-b-broader audience?” I gasped.  My hips thrust forward, trying to fuck the stupid motorized toothbrush.
                Mike nodded, his tone still conversational, as if he were totally ignoring my sexual state.   In fact, he wasn’t even looking at my clit anymore.  He had swiveled so that he could lean up against the couch, his clean shaven cheek against my thigh.  He was staring thoughtfully past my froth covered pussy, almost letting my own desperate movements handle the continued stimulation.  I grit my teeth and tried not to scream.



                “What…uggnng… did you… oooh… have in… unnngghh….mind?” I asked, my sentence punctuated by the groans and gasps that I couldn’t seem to control.  My clit tingled and my toes curled as I felt the orgasm approach like a freight train.  The clock across from us on Mike’s home theater system told me I hadn’t even hit the ten minute mark.
                “I’m not sure.  I mean obviously it couldn’t be something you’ve already done.  That would just be boring.  Who wants to read about the same thing over and over again, right?” he observed.  A quick glance up at my flushed face caused him to dig the brush into me and rub harder.  I let out a high pitched squeal and then violently shuddered, the orgasm ripping through me like a lawn mower on nitro.  He lightened up as my head lolled to the side and my eyes went glassy, but he didn’t stop.  The toothbrush continued buzzing away at my clit.  I let out a pain wracked whimper.
                “Maybe I should assign you to go somewhere a little different, like a roller rink or something.”  He grinned and slid the motorized toothbrush back and forth across my exposed nub.  “Have you ever tried roller skating while being sexually tormented?” he asked.
                I shook my head.  My pussy felt like someone was sanding it followed by a dipping in lemon juice and mint oil.  I hissed through clenched teeth the word “No.”
                Mike looked thoughtful. “But then again, it probably wouldn’t be cool to see you fall and crack your head open or anything like that.”  He reached up to the triple vibroballs remote and turned them higher.  The roar between my legs increased and I let out a high pitched wail.  “Or perhaps your assignment could be a dinner date with me?” he asked playfully.
My body was about as tense as a fighter pilot going through a nine “G” loop.   I sucked in another breath through the haze of pain and desperate sexual stimulation.  “D-d-d-dinner sounds g-g-good.”  I blinked my eyes, trying to focus.  My vision was blurry and I couldn’t clearly see the clock, but it looked like I still had fifteen minutes left.
                “Hey, have you ever been machine fucked?” Mike asked.  He began tapping the brush against my clit, rather than rubbing the stiff bristles against the swollen red and chaffed skin.  Each blow, despite being nothing more than a finger tap, felt like hammer strikes to me.
                My sobs came in heavy chest heaving wracks and Mike didn’t even bother to stop hitting my clit.  Slowly the strokes came harder and my loins twisted upward to meet them.  I shook, biting my lip as I felt my second orgasm begin to flood through me, working through my veins like liquid fire. 
                “Wouldn’t that be cool, Bre?  You here at my place, mounted for an entire day on a double dildoed fucking machine while I tortured your nipples and clit?”  He hummed a little in thought and changed the tapping of my clit for another round of back and forth scrubbing.  I let out a brittle cry, tears welling up and trickling down each cheek.  It hurt. Oh god it hurt so fucking much!  I just wanted it to never stop!  Hurt me!  Fuck me!  End me!  Abuse ME!
                “I’ve got all sorts of stuff at the hardware store that I could use on you.  Pressure clamps, spikes, weights, that rubber hose we got in last week.  Heck!  Think of the torture I could inflict on you, for an entire day!”  He pressed hard on the bristles brush and worked it rapidly against my clit.  I screamed then, my entire body convulsing in agonized ecstasy as I exploded wetly, squirting out my cum.  Mike avoided it easily, but then merely set the brush head, the vibrating brush head, back against my clit.
                My brain was fried.  Overload.  Too much.  Mike turned up the vibroballs, letting them roar at their maximum level.  I let out a whimper, too tired, too dazed to do anything but gibber uselessly.  I sat there quivering like gelatin on an airplane, and I’m pretty sure I was drooling too.  The only thing I was aware of was the burning sensation between my legs.
                The buzzing didn’t stop and Mike looked up at me.  “So what do you say, Breanne?  Ready to accept my anniversary assignment?  Think you can handle twelve hours of non-stop fucking while I methodically and gradually do incredibly evil things to your nipples and clit?” 
                I blinked, unable to comprehend who this was between my legs, or what he was doing, much less what he was asking.  All I knew was that there was something rubbing my clit, hurting me, turning me on, torturing me.  I said something nonsensical, mere gibberish because coherent thought wasn’t even an option for a girl in my condition.  My entire body trembled from brainstem overload and Mike didn’t lift the motorized toothbrush from my clit for even a second. 
                “Well?  Do you agree?” he asked. “No need to actually say anything.  Just nod.”  He pushed the toothbrush harshly against my flesh, digging it in and sending a ribbon of pain through my spread legs that made me jerk forward, my head flopping downward as I opened my mouth in a silent cry of suffering. 
                “Oh good!  Just two more minutes.  Should we try for another orgasm?” Mike asked, glancing at the clock.  Then he began rubbing the brush violently back and forth, moving it only a single inch in either direction, up and down, right and left, never once letting it up from that tender little bit, my swollen, my chaffed, my damaged little clitty.
                I came all right. Passed out too.  When I awoke I was still bound in the splits and Mike was kneeling before me, his cock buried to the hilt in my pussy.  I groaned and accepted the fucking.  It was only his due. I had promised it to him before we started.  I needed help with my resolution, the one forced upon me by Kari, to torture my clit for thirty minutes, non-stop.  Mike had graciously agreed.
                And so had I.  Double dildos.  All day.  Non-stop.   Hope you’re looking forward to it.
                I am.

3 comments:

  1. Did you ever write the story about the ducking machine assignment he gave you for the anniversary? This is my favorite story of yours so far but I'd love to ready that one!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Did you ever write the story about the ducking machine assignment he gave you for the anniversary? This is my favorite story of yours so far but I'd love to ready that one!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. No. I didn't. Sorry. Because it ended up not happening. And even if it had, I'm still not sure I'd have written about it. The reason is because me tied in one place for hours, getting tortured like that, wouldn't make a very good tale, would it?

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