It Never Ends - Part Two

Part Two

I did the rest of my chores naked.  I know it sounds crazy but the very idea of putting on a bra or panties, of anything touching my breasts or clit, was about as appealing as cutting off my own leg.  You won’t believe how slowly I moved either.  It took me three times as long to get through my chores and when I finally had the gumption to put on my clothes and wander back up to the house, I moved as if I’d been run over by a combine and then quickly baled. 

After breakfast I took a shower.  Some of the marks were fading on my breasts.  Many of them weren’t.  All I knew was that every single part of me hurt.  My clit was so sore that I couldn’t stand to touch it and even the water sliding down my belly and between my legs felt as if someone was scrubbing at me with sandpaper. 

Master Barrett was kind enough not to torment me anymore that day.  He knew that my date with Julie was coming up and the last thing he wanted to do was make it impossible for her to abuse and hurt me too.  So I spent the remainder of the day recovering.  Of course I still had to follow NHPS Rule #1, keeping some sex toy buried inside me, but Kari was kind enough to specify it had to be my triple vibroballs, which while certainly distracting didn’t touch my clit. 

The vibroballs stayed in, on low and I found myself cumming again late that afternoon.  But with no prohibition on explosions, I just quietly shuddered, enjoying the overload of ecstasy.  My fingers stayed far away from my clitoris and I exploded with a soft sigh. 

The next day I was still too sore to really allow for any torment.  At least not until that evening.  So with almost a full day of recuperation, my clit had lost some of that raw meat appearance, and while it was still tender, sensitive, and overly stimulated in general, I was able to face Julie.  It was around four o’clock when I pulled up into the parking lot of her apartment complex.  My attire was simple; a thin cotton tee shirt which helped to hide the still ragged complexion of my cleavage thanks to the one hundred and fifty NHPS pushups, and a respectable short denim skirt that came down mid-thigh and swung loosely around my ass.  My vibroballs were still there inside me, though most of the day they had been off.  I was wearing flip flops as well, though admittedly my fuck me high heels were in my bag along with some of my other toys.   Toys Julie had specifically requested I bring.

I knocked on her door with a moment’s trepidation.  Sure enough, she opened almost immediately and I blinked as I took in the blue and purple frizz on top of her head.

      “You dyed your hair again,” I said stupidly as I stepped into the apartment.  She looked like two sticks of bubblegum swirled together.  It was almost painful on the eyes.  She grinned, her purple lipstick giving her mouth a dark bruised look.  Both eyes sported the same color eye shadow and the effect was somewhere between beaten, homeless waif and sex goddess.

Julie grinned.  “Yep.  Now lift your shirt.  You know how this works,” she demanded.

Like my mistress Kari, Julie has her own procedure.  Kari makes me strip naked on the doorstep.  Julie prefers a more hands on approach.  Every time I see her, I’m forced to expose my breasts, brace myself, and accept however many blows across my bosom she wishes to give me.  To be honest, my breasts were still only marginally tender from my repeated perforation of NHPS Pushups, but you could still see the marks.  As I tugged my shirt upward and my breasts fell free, Julie raised her hand, only to pause.

“Wow.  That looks like it hurt!” she exclaimed. Her fingers came up and she gently squeezed my right breast, shaking it slightly and letting the charm padlock swing.  It tingled and I nodded.

“One hundred and fifty NHPS Pushups,” I commented, hoping to win some sympathy from her.

Julie blinked.  “A hundred and fifty?  Amazing.  Well I guess I shouldn’t slap your breasts, should I?” she asked, still squeezing gently.

Now it was my turn to be surprised.  She was going to go easy on me, just because my breasts looked all prickled?  I smiled softly.  “Thank you.  I really appreciate it.”

Julie grinned and pulled me in to the kitchen.  I came willingly and then she leaned me up against a counter, told me to put my hands behind my head, and opened the refrigerator.  I blinked as she got out a small yellow bottle with a green label and poured a generous amount in a large tumbler.  Then she fished a plastic spatula out of a drawer and dipped it in the fluid.

“So if I can’t slap you with my hand, we’ll just have to punish you some other way,” Julie announced.  Then she pulled the spatula out of the liquid and slapped it hard against my left breast.  It stung and I gasped and my knees came together while I dealt with the harsh tingle.  She had nailed my nipple directly and as the sting moved to heat, I let out a low groan and shuddered.  Julie took that as a signal to smack the spatula against my other breast, leaving another massive wet spot.  That’s when the scent of lemon hit me.

In retrospect, it would have been a totally evil and cruel torture about forty minutes AFTER my NHPS pushups.  Enough of the pins actually punctured deep enough that the lemon juice would have literally set my breasts on fire, and the delivery system was diabolical.  Ingenious even.  But I had gone a full day and a half since my little adventure on the tack mat and frankly, even the few spots where I had bled had healed enough.  I felt the sting of Julie’s strokes, but the lemon juice did zilch.

But I made the noises.  The sting of the spatula was more than enough to have me quivering in agony.  The vibroballs were off too.  This wasn’t combining with sex.  It was just to tenderize me.  Julie knew I wasn’t going to cum like this.  The beating continued for at least ten minutes and probably would have gone on longer had the doorbell not rang.

I was left in the kitchen, my breasts a pretty shade of deep pink, dripping with lemon juice, wearing a tugged up tee shirt, a short blue denim skirt, and flip flops.  I held position, even when I heard Julie greeting someone and letting them into the apartment. I bit my lip and then my eyes widened when Mayra walked in.

I had met Mayra almost a year before when Julie had decided that she was the one who needed to inflict the Chinese Water Torture on me.  It hadn’t worked.  But Mayra, Kelly, and Julie had gone ahead and done some pretty interesting things to me with a water pick instead.  Kelly had been soft.  Julie had been firm.  Mayra?  Well Mayra had to be restrained.  And I don’t mean restrained like I was restrained.  Julie had literally had to tell her to knock it off because she was being to rough with me.  So I wasn’t terribly happy to see Mayra, especially on a day that Julie was specifically asked to kick me between the legs.

Repeatedly.

Mayra approached me with a warm smile and kissed me.  She was portly girl, a little large, but cute in her own way.  As our lips met she stuck her tongue in my mouth while at the same time tweaking my nipple as hard as possible.  While I struggled to bear the pain, especially after the spatula whacking, I felt her lift my skirt, her pudgy fingers digging around the petals of my sex.  She found my clit and suddenly, despite my day of rest, my clit felt as if someone was yanking it off.  I let out a high pitched squeal and she rubbed me, pinched between thumb and forefinger, and I think both she and Julie knew that sound was not sourced from a feeling of deep pleasure.

Mayra let me go and I reeled backward, stumbling before finding the solid counter with my spine.  It hurt, but so did my clit and my nipple.  Julie just laughed, offered Mayra a drink, and then I was told to go wait in the living room.

I did as asked.  I didn’t sit down on the sofa either.  I kept my shirt up around my chin, lifted my skirt so my clean shaven slit was exposed, and laid down face up on the coffee table.  I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do, but I knew for certain it wouldn’t be the wrong thing to do.  Sure enough, both Julie and Mayra were incredibly pleased to find me like that when they came in.  Both were drinking beers, chatting away and talking about events and parties I hadn’t attended and wasn’t invited too.  They sat on the sofa, taking turns pinching me, tickling me, and generally trying to make as horny as possible while inflicting minor pains on me. 

Finally Julie stood up.  “Breanne, get up.  Stand over there,” she pointed to a clear space halfway between the foyer and the sofa.  I stood and moved there.  “Put your hands behind your head with your fingers laced.”  I did, tensing.  I knew what was coming.  I spread my legs without her even ordering me and waited, bracing myself. 

Julie stepped up and lifted my skirt.  With agonizing slowness she tucked the hem into my waist band, leaving my mons and pussy totally exposed.  I spread my legs even wider as my chest began heaving with short hard breaths.  I was not dealing with expectation very well.

Lastly, Julie turned on the vibroballs.  The roared to life inside me and she slid the control to full power.  It felt amazing.  Suddenly the warmth of my breasts combined with the need between my legs and I felt a sort of power, a tension inside me that I knew would help me withstand what Julie was about to do.  Her little bare foot was ready and she took a single step back, swinging he foot like a pendulum, getting her hip and leg loose.

Then she swung, bringing the top of her foot upward in a classic punting kick which culminated in a wet smack against my sex.  I jerked at the impact, but then blinked and stood my ground.  It hadn’t hurt.  Sure it stung a little.  I felt a little bruised maybe, but I had thought I’d be rolling on the ground with my hands between my legs.  My hips churned with the vibroballs and I felt the flames inside me intensify.  My God!  The kick had literally knocked me half way up the orgasmic mountain!  I was MUCH closer to cumming!  I twisted myself back to face her, spread my legs, the look of relief and want and desperation writ plain upon my face.  Julie peered at me, realized what had happened, and her lips tightened to a thin red line.  As my pelvis rocked, presenting my swollen and hurting pussy, only wanting more, Julie pulled back and planted her foot between my legs in a kick that would have made a soccer goalie quiver in fear.

I collapsed.  Literally. I fell to the ground.  I thought something was broken inside me.  She landed a kick that exploded through my pussy with a deep dark hurt that felt as if I’d been fucked with the business end of a baseball bat while being simultaneously stepped on by an elephant.  It was pressure and heat and agony all rolled into one and my hands found their way to my thighs as I rolled on the floor like a teenage boy who had just been kneed.  I remember opening my eyes as the tears poured out of me and seeing Julie’s foot just an inch away.  The entire top of her foot was coated with a thin slick coat of my juice. 

“Stand up!” she demanded.  I tried, but had trouble getting to my feet.  Suddenly Mayra was there, grabbing my arm, hauling me upright.  She stood behind me, holding me up and I was only barely able to take my weight.  

“Get those legs spread!” demanded Julie.  I trembled, fighting it.  I tried opening them, but the memory and fear of that last kick kept my knees together.  Mayra got one foot at my left ankle and kicked me open.  My body fought that, trying to close back up, but Julie moved quick.  In a flash her little bare foot had once again landed between my legs.  But this time my thighs had gotten quite a bit of the impact.  It hurt, causing me to spread my legs farther apart, giving Julie another opportunity to kick me.  Her foot sped upward, but the same force she had used earlier was gone, as if she knew where my spectrum of tolerance was.  Four blows smashed my petals into my pubic bone and my clit felt as if it was caught in a vice.  Then I folded and my dead weight was more than Mayra could handle.  She let me down as my knees closed.

But then Julie’s hands were on me.  With rough pushes, she moved me to a kneeling position, spreading my thighs wide apart.  She replaced Mayra behind me, locking my arms  behind my back and lifting me up right, tilting me back.  My breasts and pussy were on perfect display and I was in a position that left me little choice.  Through my tears I watched as Mayra removed her shoe, the vibroballs making me shake.  I was so close.  So close to orgasm…

Then Mayra kicked me.  I wasn’t able to fold or really move, but my legs came together and the noise I made evidently got a little concerning for Julie, who quickly put one hand over my mouth to muffle the cries.  And make no mistake, I was yelling.  It hurt.  But more importantly, the last kick had knocked me all the way to climax and I was cumming like you wouldn’t believe.  My entire weight went on Julie as I twitched through the explosion and then, instead of setting me up for another series of kicks, she let go and let me topple to the ground.

I lay there, a heap of wet, cum soaked, aching girl for about five minutes before I picked myself up off the ground and crawled over to the sofa.  Mayra and Julie were sitting there chatting as if kicking me and hurting me hadn’t happened.  I knelt in front of them, closed my eyes, and catalogued my hurts.  There were plenty of them, let me tell you.  The deep ache between my legs was only the worst.

“I’m hungry,” Mayra commented a few minutes later.  A quick flurry of conversation followed, without my input, and then Julie was up.  A moment later she came back into the room with a black magic marker. 

     

“Get up on the coffee table, Bre.  Show us your pussy,” Julie ordered.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I did what she asked.  It was everything I could do just to hold still as I felt the soft fiber tip of the marker sliding against my skin.  I didn’t know what she was doing.  She was drawing something over my crotch, around my labia.  Then she pinched my petals closed and drew little lines horizontally across my sex.  I tried not to jerk my hips.  Then she wrote something just above my pussy. 

“Stand up and pull your shirt down,” Julie said.

Fifteen minutes later we were in Julie’s car heading for Fazoli’s Italian Restaurant.  I’ll admit that my curiosity was intense.  Despite the fact that I was still hurting and since I wasn’t driving, still dealing with the vibroballs buzzing inside me at full power, what I really wanted to do was lift my skirt and find out what Julie had written.  At the restaurant I had another orgasm sitting in the booth eating my pasta.  But no opportunity for self-exploration came.  After we left though, Julie turned off the vibroballs, but reached down and put her hand beneath the denim of my skirt and rubbed me until I was humming in desperation.

“Want it, don’t you?” she asked me softly.

“Oh yes please!” I begged.  My body rippled with spasms of need.

“Gotta earn it,” she said softly.

I really need to be careful with the term “anything”, because frequently my tormentors think that actually means “anything”.  Anything in this case meant Julie grabbing my elbow, dragging me along the strip mall with Mayra in tow, and pushing me into one of the small stores.  The place was empty except for the clerk who looked at us in surprise. It was a phone store, nothing special, but he asked how he could help.

Julie marched me over to the counter and grinned at the clerk.

“I was wondering if you’d like to play a quick came of punt the cunt?” she asked.

No one answered. I think all of us, Mayra, the clerk, and most especially me, were very surprised.

“It’s very simple.  Breanne here wants to be abused.  So she’ll spread her legs and you kick her.  If she drops, you get a blowjob.  If she stays standing, she gets to cum,” Julie explained.

Oh hell.  Oh crap.  I closed my eyes.  This was going to be brutal.  The clerk’s eyes flashed with interest. 

“This is a little unusual,” he stammered.

Julie shrugged with indifference.  “Either you play or not.  If you want your cock sucked, you have to kick her.”

He looked around and then finally made his decision.  He came around the counter and motioned us to the back corner of the store.  There was at least a stand there that provided a bit of privacy.  I was pulled into position, ordered to spread my legs as wide as possible, and lift my skirt.

Oh look!  A fucking football!  She had drawn a goddamned football on my pussy!  And oh look!  “Punt the Cunt” in big bold letters!  How amazing!

This tale is no longer available on the blog and can be found in Breanne Erickson's e-book anthology "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 6"

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Breanne Erickson is the author of "The Society of the Golden Rose" and "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" series.  Described as the "Goddess of Dark Erotica by Afterdark Online, Breanne's work is available at both the Free Story Archive and at fine booksellers!  Check her out!