Resolutions

The party was finally over and I looked around at the wreckage.  Kari’s condo could have qualified for federal disaster funding.  The dining room table was nothing but crumbs and plates, there were glasses and bottles of wine all over the place, not to mention the fact that an entire wardrobes worth of whips, canes, clamps, chains, cuffs, and other assorted sex toys littered the place like the washed up remnants of a downed plane.  Slowly I began to pick up, my body aching from the multiple bruises and whip strokes that I had received that evening.  It had been a long party, hours in fact, culminating in a New Year’s Eve countdown that symbolically and literally began a new year for the Society of the Golden Rose.

Ever seen fifteen naked slave girls receive the ten spank countdown as a bunch of lesbian dominatrixes paddle down the seconds?  My ass STILL hurts.

But eventually the party ended.  By one o’clock even Margaret and Isabel had gone home, leaving me and Kari to tidy up amidst the wreckage.  I began picking up dishes and carrying them into the kitchen.

“Breanne?” Kari said, calling to me from the living room. I deposited the platter in the sink and quickly padded into the living room. Kari was sitting on the sofa, her legs curled up beneath her.  I knelt down in front of her, my naked body aching.  She reached out and caressed my hair, running her fingers down until she touched my shoulder, then my breast, thumbing my nipple lightly.  I’d received a few rather cutting welts across my breasts and I moaned and grimaced.

“So beautiful… do you have any new year’s resolutions?” Kari asked me softly. 

I laughed lightly.  Kari knew darn well that I wasn’t much of a resolution person.   I shook my head.  “Sorry.  I’m not good with resolutions.”

Kari took another sip of her wine.  She hadn’t had much through the night, but I could see she now sported a look of glassy lethargy that surprised me. 

“No… no… I want you to make a resolution,” Kari said with a grin. 

I frowned, but then shrugged. “I resolve to cum four times a day?” I proposed.  Kari’s eyes narrowed and she frowned.

“That might conflict with an assignment, or even a toy for the day,” she replied with a shake of her head.

“Um… three edges a day?” I said, trying to think of something else I could do.  Seriously, I had already agreed to keep a sex toy inside me constantly.  What else could she demand of me?

Kari thought about it, but then sighed in disappointment.  “No, that’s almost good, but what if you mess up?  No, we need something that is self-correcting.”

I struggled to think of something, but my brain was mostly fried.  I’d just spent an evening in sexual torment, release, bliss, and agony and frankly, thinking of new ways to torture myself wasn’t exactly within the parameters of my servitude.  I knelt there in silence, trying to come up with something appropriate.

“I know!” Kari declared suddenly.  She gave me a warm smile.  “Your New Year’s Resolution is to suffer through an hour’s worth of clit torture every day!”

My throat tightened at the same time my eyes widened.  “An hour?” I gasped, trying to fathom the very thought.  Kari nodded but then saw my alarm.

“Too much?  Okay, I think thirty minutes is perfect.  So not only do you have to wear your toy for the day, but for thirty minutes you will torture your clit as well.”

I shifted uncomfortably.  “Kari, um… how exactly am I supposed to ‘torture’ my clit?” I asked.  I have a rather sensitive clit and the idea of subjecting myself to unspecified torment was quite unsettling.

Kari shrugged.  “We’ll have to rotate it out of course.  I think hot waxings, clamps, ice, vibration, whippings, there are all sorts of things!” she said happily.

I gave her a rather unsupportive look. “Can’t I just get fucked in the ass each day?” I asked plaintively.

Kari laughed.  “Oh no!  No!  So let’s start!  It’s a new year already, day one.  And you need thirty minutes of clit torture.

My clit had already been tortured and was quite sore.  The idea of enduring more, much less making it a daily routine was almost unfathomable.  But Kari suddenly stood, leaving me on my knees.  A moment later she came back and told me to lie on my back with my legs spread. 

I did as I was ordered. It’s what a slave does.  I had no choice. If Kari wanted to hurt me, to abuse me, she could.  It was that simple.  So I laid back, parted my legs, put my hands behind my head, and tried to brace myself for whatever was coming.

Her fingertip touched my clitoris and I couldn’t help tensing.  My legs started to come together but I held them open.  Kari bent down and took a long loving taste of my body, running her tongue through my slit and up to my clit.  It surprised me that I felt myself ripen, moisture flooding through me.  I guess I DIDN’T get enough at the party.  Kari began tonguing my clit over and over and in moments I felt the heady rush of pleasure, of delicate sweetness sliding over raw nerves.  For a girl who had been whipped repeatedly between the legs, Kari’s mouth was the much needed remedy.  

Then she bit me.  Or at least I thought she had.  I felt a horrible pinch right on my clit and as I folded, my hands coming down, Kari moved forward and interposed her body between my hands and my loins. I groaned, twisting my hips as the pain shook me.  It felt like my clit was being crushed between two sledgehammers.  A minute or two later and I was crying, shaking in Kari’s grip.  Slowly, as soon as she was sure I wasn’t going to touch myself and try to remove the clamp on my clit, she let me go, lifting herself up.  I looked down between my legs to see my jumbo alligator clamp, a metal toothed monstrosity, chewing on my clit.  Worse, she had hooked one of my other clamps, a vibrator clamp to the alligator.  A flick of her thumb turned the little bullet vibrator on and the violent shaking translated up to my clit in mind-numbing sexual torment.  

Kari helped me too my feet.  I stood there, legs spread, trembling, my mind barely cognizant of my surroundings.

“There.  I think that will make for a good first torment, don’t you?” she asked with a smile.  “I think you should keep that on until you finish picking up the kitchen.” 

Almost crying, my fingers fluttering at my belly, all while trying to resist the overwhelming urge to free my clit, I nodded dumbly.  “Yes, Kari.”

Kari reached out and hugged me.  “And tomorrow morning I’ll tie you to the I bench and rub your clit with a toothbrush and some toothpaste for your thirty minutes.”

I whimpered.  “Yes, Kari.”

She looked thoughtful.  “Then on Monday you can hot wax your clit.  How does that sound?” she asked.

“Um… I’m expecting my time of the month, mistress.” I whispered, horrified at the thought of what was coming. 

Kari shrugged.  “Well, I don’t see why we still can’t torture your clit.  But if you’d prefer, we can torment your nipples instead on those days, except you’ll have to endure an hour’s worth, not just thirty minutes.”

She turned and started walking into the kitchen. I followed, the vibrator clamp dangling from my clit bumping into my thighs.  I waddled along, my pussy in agony.  She picked up a dish and handed it to me, clearly wanting me to rinse it and put it in the empty dishwasher.

“Ginger root would be good too, don’t you think?  And maybe small rubber bands?  Or I could buy you one of those vacuum pumps with the little plastic tubes to suck your clit into.  I still like the idea of clamps.  And of course your butterfly clitoral vibrator on high would be perfect too.”

 

I rinsed the dish and put it away in the dishwasher.  My clit burned and I felt the slow rekindling of my sexual urges build in the depths of my belly.  Kari slapped a hand across my ass, making me jerk forward, setting the clamps swinging.  I hissed in pain.

“So, how do you like THAT new year’s resolution?” she asked.

I nodded.  It was the only thing I could do.  I summoned the courage to say it aloud.

“Thank you, Kari. I love it…”