Full Bore

            Usually, my various doms and dommes rarely meet.  For example, Julie and Kari have never met, despite the fact they are very aware of each other.  Their personalities, their demeanor, all of it is too different and their shared commonality – the desire and wish to abuse, hurt, and fuck me – isn’t really enough to bring a twenty seven year old interior designer with champagne tastes and a twenty year old punk goth chick who is all beer and vodka, to come together.

            Of course, just as odd was the day that Kari asked me for Mike’s number.  Mike is my hardware guy and is usually the guy I go to when one of my assignments requires something to be built or constructed, or if I’m just looking for a decent screw.

            Like a metal screw.  Geesh.  Perverts.  Oh wait… maybe you know what I like to do with big metal screws. 

*Blush*

            Anyway I gave her Mike’s number, no questions asked.  You never tell the person who holds the leash, the whip, and an insane number of rather painful clamps, no.  At least I try not to.  I suppose every once in a while it sort of slips out.  Then the word that follows is “owwwww”.  Followed by “sorry!” 

           

            Life proceeded normally after that for two or three weeks, only to be interrupted by Kari requesting that I join her and Robert at her condo for a Saturday afternoon.  I readily agreed, mostly because I hadn’t had a really good sex session in a while and I REALLY wanted one.  The idea of getting to fuck Robert, even if it meant torturing him in another milking session, made me even wetter than normal.  So I packed everything up and headed over to Kari’s place.

            I parked in front of her condo, behind a large flatbed pickup and I admit I was just a tad bit curious.  Robert drives an SUV, while Kari has a convertible.  I ended up deciding that the truck belonged to someone else further down the street.  It was a little after one o’clock and once again I admired the landscaping.  I knew that Kari had “helped”, choosing which plants and how things were to be trimmed, but I also knew that Kari hadn’t picked up a single pair of shears or a rake or even a trowel.  A landscaping company had done all the work, but even then I still had to pause momentarily to appreciate the kaleidoscope of greens and flowering plants.  It was impressive, especially the giant white oleander that sat just to the side of the front porch entry and actually blocked the street’s view of the door. I liked the oleander too because one of Kari’s basic requirements for every single one of my visits was that arrive at the doorstep naked.

            I was dressed in khaki shorts along with an old tee shirt.  No bra or panties of course.  I stopped in the shadows in front of the door and began stripping.  The weather had turned warmer weeks ago, proving once again that southern Texas’ winter was exactly four days long.  The heady scent of the oleander blossoms filled the air and I shuffled out of my flip flops and quickly peeled myself out of the shorts and tee shirt.  I wasn’t worried about NHPS Rule #1 because I was wearing my ben wa balls, a set of spheres the size of pigeon eggs that even at that point were keeping me rather wet between the legs.  Satisfied, I stuffed everything in my bag and knocked sharply on the door.

            Historically, Robert answers the door at Kari’s place, unless of course it’s a meeting of the Society of the Golden Rose, and then usually it’s me.  The one consistency is that whoever answers the door, almost without fail, is naked as a mole rat.  So you can imagine my surprise when I saw Robert barefoot, in blue jeans and a tee shirt, grinning at me with obvious appreciation.

            I blinked. “You’re dressed!” I said stupidly.

           

            Robert laughed.  “You’re not.”

            I looked down at myself, as if this was new information.  I gave him a grumpy frown.  “How come you’re dressed?”

            He shrugged.  “We’ve got company over.”

            That alarmed me.  “Should I come back later?” I asked with concern.  Robert just grinned and shook his head.  His large hand reached out and grabbed hold of the tiny padlock which dangled from the golden hoop piercing my right nipple.  I let out a little squeal as he pulled me in to the cool interior and then he let me go as soon as I was clear of the door.

            When you enter Kari’s condo, the dining room is to your immediate right and the living room, complete with fireplace, television set, sofa, love seat, and recliner, is to your left.  I wasn’t surprised to see the shining blond locks of my favorite dominatrix, her back to me, sitting on the sofa.  What surprised me was seeing Mike the Hardware Guy sitting across from her on the recliner.  Guests indeed.  There is nothing more frightening for a submissive girl with a bent for masochism than to see two of her regular tormentors together.

            “Hey Bre!” Mike said with a delighted grin.  Kari didn’t bother to turn and greet me.  I licked my lips and waved, in humiliated chagrin.  Oh joy.  TWO dominants in one room.  I glanced over at Robert who was still smiling.  I put down my bag and circled around the end table and with a polite nod at Mike, knelt in front of Kari.

            She was dressed comfortably in a sweat suit, the kind that you spend seventy or eighty bucks for and was a combination of pink and gray.  She too was barefoot, her delicate boned feet peeking out from where her legs were curled up under her.  Her toe nails were painted a delicate shade of deep pink.  I choked down the urge to kiss her feet and instead assumed the classic subservient position; thighs parted wide to show off my shaved slit, fingers interlaced behind my head, eyes down, and my back arched slightly to present my breasts.

            Kari stared at me for a while and then she looked at Robert.  “Please take her to the room and prepare her.  Let us know when she’s ready.”

            That sort of surprised me too.  I felt Robert’s finger curl through my hair and I rose even as he pulled me upward, a small tinge of pain in my scalp.  I knew which way to go, but Robert pushed me forward anyway and I skirted the sofa and padded down the back hallway to the very first bedroom.  It wasn’t a bedroom any longer though and hadn’t been since Kari bought the place.  Kari had converted it into a full fledged dungeon, complete with St. Andrew’s Cross, a wooden horse, a metal framed “I” bench, stocks and now, in the very center of the room, something new.

            I took a moment to examine it.  First of all, it was readily apparent that it was a stool of some sort.  Except instead of a classic seat in which to put your ass, there was merely a circular frame; certainly serviceable at supporting someone’s weight, albeit uncomfortably, all while leaving certain portions of their anatomy completely exposed.  This feature was no doubt necessary due to the extremely large phallic probes sticking up from a black painted metal box which sat directly underneath the stool.  The metal cover had two holes from which the posts rose directly out of and I could see the electrical cord spooled along the side. 

            Robert stepped over to the small closet and opened it, extracting a bottle.  I frowned again, noticing that he had quite deliberately chosen a bottle of my Stinging O.  I watched in stony silence as he liberally doused both rubber dildos with the spicy lubricant.  On further examination, I noticed that one of the probes was smaller, though not by much, and clearly intended for my ass.  Robert finished the lubricant coat and turned, wiping his finger across my left nipple.  Almost immediately I felt the tingly sensation of the cinnamon, pepper and grapeseed oil mixture begin to work its chemical magic on my nerves and I took a deep breath. 

            “Need you to sit down,” Robert said, motioning toward the stool.  I gave him another glare, but turned around and straddled the odd shaped furniture.  Robert reached between my legs and I gave a slight gasp as his fingers spread my petals and dug into my wetness.  I felt him snag and pull on the ben wa balls, extracting them with dexterity.  He tossed them aside and I lowered myself down with Robert’s hands on my hips.  The first phallus to touch me was the vaginal probe and I slid it through my labia with a hip rocking movement that made sure as much of the Stinging O oil coated my thick folds as possible.  Before I felt more than a twinge though, there was another sensation coming from deeper underneath me and Robert’s hands applied more pressure. I gasped as the anal probe began penetrating, followed a second later by a burning sensation from my pussy.

            Then everything happened at once.  The thick vaginal dildo slipped upward through my insides, while Robert pushed down, making sure that the anal phallus dug in deep as well.  My pussy burned with need even as my rear end started to pucker from the stinging oil.  My thighs jumped wildly as I finally was able to put my entire weight down on the stool, the metal circle digging into my buttocks and thighs uncomfortably. 

            Fully settled, I realized that only two to three inches of both dildos had penetrated into my body.  Robert began strapping me down.  Thick bands of Velcro went around my thighs down to my knees and I knew the only way I was getting off the stool was with help.  This was then followed by Robert bringing a thick metal chain along with a set of leather bondage cuffs out of the closet.  Carabineer hooks on the both ends of the chain meant easy restraint as Robert clipped one end to an eyehook embedded in the ceiling and the other through the metal hoops on my cuff.  I wasn’t pulled tight though.  Robert hadn’t secured my arms upward past my ears, so it was clear that I wasn’t going to be pulling myself upward to get off the stool either. 

            I figured I was done.  But then Robert pulled my feet upward and secured my ankles with two more straps as well, making the soles just as available as the rest of me. I sat there, totally unable to move, my body bound to the metal monstrosity.  I knew damn well what was happening. It was a fucking machine, a double one.  No doubt built by Mike the Hardware Guy to Kari’s demanding specifications.  I knew I was going to get fucked.  Seriously fucked.  And it was all going to happen by a machine that could last practically forever, that didn’t care if I came or not, and would continue fucking me until someone else made it stop.

            Robert went behind the St. Andrew’s cross and brought out the small rolling cart and I suddenly realized that things were much much worse than I had previously thought.  I knew now what we were doing.  It was an assignment!  I had received it two or three weeks previously from one of my online doms, H, who had wanted me double fucked and shocked to oblivion.  Robert wheeled the TENS Unit over and quickly wired three scissor clamps to the machine.

           

            Robert isn’t normally sadistic, but I’ve always felt deep in my heart that he ENJOYS seeing me hurt and abused like this.  He’s not one of those people like Kari and Mike who not only need to see it done, but want to do it themselves.  But Robert took an almost savage pleasure of picking up each clamp and applying it with agonizing pressure to the most delicate parts of my body; namely my nipples and clit.  Pain burgeoned through me and I tried rocking on the stool.  I moved less than a centimeter.  Then he left.

            A few moments later Mike came in.  He stared down at me with a lustful gleam in his eye and he quickly plugged in the device.  A flick of his thumb beneath me caused a sudden hum and there was movement between my legs.  I groaned loudly as the vaginal probe slid out of my pussy almost completely, while the anal dildo drove upward, spearing me painfully.  Then they changed position.  The pussy dildo slid skyward, thrusting up through my split folds, even as the probe in my ass came almost fully out.  Then it went back to being stuffed in my rear, and almost empty up front.  Mike bent down and fiddled with something and suddenly the in and out pistoning went from a slow brutal fucking to a fast one. My entire body seemed to jerk in response to the now savage bashing my nether regions were getting.  I gasped in astonishment.  It wasn’t just that I was getting fucked.  Oh no.  As H had required in his assignment, I was being double fucked at “full bore”. 

            I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that they were working on one motor, no doubt with the posts mounted on a wheel so they could go in and out in perfect synchronization.  To be honest, the combination of Stinging O and repeated fucking, not to mention the amazing bondage, drove me toward orgasm faster than you’d think.  Remember, I was already horny thanks to the ben wa balls, and had been that way all day.  Add in the public stripping on the doorstep, the humiliation of finding Mike here, then being impaled, bound, stung, and clamped, I’m sure it’s not that big of a surprise to find that I was close enough to the edge that my first orgasm came within minutes.

            And Mike turned on the TENS Unit and fried me.

            Admittedly, it was the lowest setting, right around the 3 to 10 hertz setting, but Mike cranked up the pulse width, frying me for an extended period.  As I struggled to cope with the added fun of being shocked the dildos pounded at high speed in my pussy and ass.  The stool literally shook as I was pistoned.  I found out from Mike later that the motor setting was around a hundred twenty rotations per minute, which meant that I endured to thrusts to both my ass and pussy every damn second.  Mike also admitted that he could have gone up higher, but was worried about actually damaging me.

            After my toe curling orgasm, I broke out into a sweat.  The full bore pounding that I was receiving between my legs didn’t quite hurt, but it didn’t feel “good” either.  It was a mixture of “oh my god, yes!” and “fuck no!”  I’m still not sure.  It wasn’t like anything I had ever felt.  I can tell you this – I didn’t spend a lot of down time between orgasm number one and orgasm number two.  It wasn’t quite a multiple orgasm.  They were quite separate.  But I think even Mike was surprised at how quick it went. 

            My eyes glassed over as the orgasm hit and the rush of endorphins and adrenaline and dopamine exploded through my blood stream and sent my brain into pleasure overload.  I was off in dreamland when Mike hit me again with the electricity, sending the equivalent of shards of glass piercing my nipples and clit.  It seemed to hurt way more than the first time and while I screamed and shook, I spied his hand on the TENS Unit controls, jacking with both the intensity and duration settings. 

            When I was done with the excruciating shock, my bottom lip was trembling and I had a hard time breathing thanks to the racking sobs that shook my body.  I hung in the chains, trying to bend over, my entire upper half supported from the eyehook.  My hair hung limply over my eyes and tears fell down to splatter the black metal box.  They mixed with other fluids that had been dripping out of me and in a rush the pounding between my legs came back to the forefront of my mind, beating my pussy and ass black and blue.

            Yes.  I mean that.  I have the bruises.  My labia have dark blue streaks and the surrounding flesh looks like someone took a baseball bat to me.  And not fuck either.  I look like I was beaten with it.  But that’s what was wanted, right?  Me bruised and fucked at full bore?

            Mike moved around me and I felt his fingers lightly stroking the soles of my feet.  It felt good, but I was unable to really appreciate it thanks to the bestial stabbing of the rubber dildos which were still moving through my innards like a troop of football players running for a goal.  I wish I HAD been able to enjoy the delicate touch of his fingers on my feet, because the next time he touched me there, it was with a Wartenberg wheel and the sharp metal spikes dug into the soles of my feet with a cruelty that had me trying to jerk my feet away.

            I cried out of course.  He didn’t draw blood, but it was close.  Mike rolled the wheel around the edges of my sole, across the sensitive arch, over the fleshy pads of my toes, and then up my leg, over my ass, and down the back of my other thigh to do it all over again.  And why?  To torment me while the pounding between my legs built up another orgasm.

            By the time that happened though, he was holding my big toe with one hand, forcing my little toes apart, and was running the pinwheel through the highly sensitive and soft parts between.  It was agonizing.  He did it just hard enough to make me squeal, and to be honest, I think he was caught by surprise when I started squirting juice downward around the dildos, crying out in orgasmic overload.

            Then I stiffened, my voice fading out into a teeth clenched screech that filled the room with a high pitched tone.   My upper body thrashed in agony as the electricity flowed.  With more power and for a longer duration, I felt as if I were on fire for minutes.  Admittedly, it made the compressive strain between my legs fade into something unrecognizable, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt either.  I felt stretched, pulled in ways I was never meant to go.

            Then the electricity stopped.  I sagged in my bonds, limp and exhausted.  I no longer felt the tension of the impetus of the dildos.  They merely moved in and out.  As I let every ounce of tightness fade I became soft putty, my body reacting like gelatin to the giant forceful intruders of hard cast rubber.  All I could think of was what it might be like to cum again.  I didn’t want too.  Every time I had cum Mike had turned up the TENS Unit and had fried me longer.  I closed my eyes.  Time seemed to crawl and the only way I could measure its passing was the gentle and steady increase in my desperation, in my need, in my want and desire. 

            I felt Mike’s finger cup my face, lifting my chin, brushing the hair out of my eyes. 

            “Breanne?  Honey, you only have to stay on it an hour.  We’re done sweetheart,” he said.  He reached for the controls beneath me and I croaked, trying to get the words out.  He paused and the dildos jacked through me, non-stop. I swallowed, trying to find the strength to say what needed to be said.

            “What is it sweetheart?” he asked gently.

            I licked my cracked lips.  “Not yet,” I whispered.

            Mike looked uncomfortable.  “One more orgasm,” I muttered.

            He frowned.  “But, if you cum again, I’ll have to shock you,” he said.

            I nodded.  I know.

            The pounding between my legs continued and so did I, closer and closer to that final orgasm.  One hour and twenty three minutes of non-stop, crotch bruising, fucking, at full bore.  And as I tightened, crying out, Mike turned the TENS Unit back on, timed with my orgasm, rather than after it.  I exploded in ecstasy and agony, my teeth tightly together, my entire body quivering in sensation that goes beyond description and can only be experienced and endured.

            I wasn’t really aware of things after that.  Mike turned off the TENS Unit and the full bore penetrator.  I was released from the stool, from the chain, and Robert came and carried me into the living room, depositing me on the couch.  Kari inspected my loins, announcing that not only was I undamaged, but ready for more.  Mike and Robert both undressed and I laid there practically unconscious while Mike shoved his cock into my super loose and wet hole and Robert tried to skull fuck me.  I didn’t respond.  I had nothing left.

            It didn’t stop them from leaving goo all over my body though.

            Mike won an entire day with me next week for his assistance.  Robert won an excruciating sixteen hour milking that tied his record for most number of orgasms in one day.  I think we would have gotten him to the next level if his cock had held up better.

            Me?  I’m alright.  For the most part.  I’m still sore down there.  It’s not fun to go to the bathroom let me tell you.  And I feel like I’ve been kicked between the legs, repeatedly, which sucks because if I’m going to feel like that, I’d have at least liked to have been actually KICKED between the legs.  Of course Kari has also taken advantage of my soreness to keep me even more off center, and in more pain.  That’s why I’ve got the Core Driller dildo stuffed in my cunt and the four inch vibrating butt plug in my ass.  Nothing helps a bruise heal than stretching and abusing it, right?

            Because that’s how I do things. 

            Full Bore.

If you enjoyed "Full Bore" there's tons more!  Breanne Erickson is the author of  the "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" series available in e-book format from both Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.  Check out some of her free stories at her website!