Covers

As surprising as it may be, Breanne's prolific nature has again given us a plethora of tales to enjoy.  Recently we began collating her current tales into another collection (Volume 6 no less) and are pleased to announce that not only are we expecting to be able to release a new Volume of Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut this September, but for the first time it will have previously unreleased/unpublished tales from Breanne included. 

Right now I'm still waiting on a few more tidbits from Breanne as well as working on art.  The progression of art for the Tales series has been one of increasing realism.  For example, the first Tales volume looked like this:

Tales Volume #1

Erotic, but not very eye catching.  Then we went to this:

Tales Volume #2

Again, Sheo from DeviantArt did a wonderful job, but we were ready to move on to something a little more adult and looking less like a Manga novel

Tales Volume #3

I did the artwork for Volume 3 and thought it turned out nicely.  Pain in the ass to draw out though.

Volume #4 we went back to Sheo and her latest style.  Breanne ended up looking a little... well... pencil necked.  But great bolero jacket!

More photorealism came for Volume #5 and I had to do some serious playing around with this cover to get it looking the way I wanted it.  All in all, a successful endeavor.  

And here is our latest offering and the conceptualized version of the latest concept art for the cover.  I've put a poll over on the right side bar at the top for you to vote, but if you'd like to make a comment, feel free to let us know how you feel!

Pillar

07/18/2012

             

   The dungeon had changed.  Oh… not by  a lot.  The wooden horse still stood near the door.  The classic metal and leather “I” bench was along the left wall.  The large side table was covered, as it routinely is, with an assortment of lit candles, paddles, saps, clamps, and other assorted knickknacks to be used on the victims present.  A heavy wooden “stock”, historically accurate of course, sat opposite the “I” bench.  Oh wait.  Should I call it an iBench?  LOL!  Wouldn’t that be funny?  Anyway, there was also the St. Andrew’s Cross in the corner.  All of that was the same.  But what was different was the item in the very center of the room.

                Last time I had been here, a device made by Mike the Hardware Guy had been sitting in the prime position.  It had been nothing more than a stool frame with the seat removed and a double dildo fucking machine set underneath.  Sitting on that “stool” had been incredibly uncomfortable, yet somehow rewarding.  But that’s another story and you can read about it elsewhere.  Needless to say, the stool and fucking machine were gone.  Instead there was a wooden pillar, in the same style as the stocks, yet a little rougher.  The base was just plywood and there was still a raw scent about the piece, as if it had just been put together and sanded the day before.  It sported a dark stain, but I could tell it still needed a waxing and a good polish.  At the top of the pillar was a crossbeam or support, padded in leather, and thick enough and long enough for me to sit on comfortably had someone helped me to keep my balance.

                For a moment I thought it was going to be another device to straddle, putting pressure on certain parts of my anatomy.  But as I was still contemplating the new addition to my mistress Kari’s dungeon, I got distracted.

                Just a little bit.

                Robert was groaning.  Kari’s live in boy toy, submissive male, and outright hunk is the kind of guy that most dominant women dream about.  He’s a day trader when Kari’s working and when she’s not, he’s the perfect submissive male.  He cooks.  He cleans. He works out.  He suffers for her sexually, allowing her to basically use him anyway she wants.  If Kari wants sex nine times in one day, then Robert will provide.  If she wants to milk him into fourteen orgasms, he takes it.  If she wants him to bring her to orgasm with just his tongue, then he tries.  If she wants to tie him to the St. Andrew’s Cross and whip his cock between oily hand jobs, then I get jealous.

                And that is just what was happening.  Robert was just as buck naked as I was, with both of us sporting the normal black leather bondage cuffs on our ankles and wrists.  His neck collar was thicker than mine, but it still sported the same silver colored metal rings.  The light ring of D link clips and chain flittered through the room and I watched with a lump in my throat as Kari’s hand slid along Robert’s cock.  The oil glistened and what I really wanted to do, right at that moment, was go over there, kneel down, and follow suit. I could just imagine my hands sliding down that thick pillar, stimulating Robert with ever increasing desperation, until finally he would erupt sending ribbons of thick white cum spooling out toward me.

                But I had been instructed to stand there, watching.  Robert was having trouble dealing with Kari’s ministrations, his cock bobbing and throbbing, clearly approaching the apex of need.  Kari teased the edge of his tip, literally twisting her hand around his shaft with a turn of her wrist, and making his eyes roll up into the back of his head.  As he gasped, she pulled her hand away, grabbed the multi-headed thong whip and brought it down across Robert’s penis and balls with a heavy swish that ended in a solid sounding  “thwack”.

                I would have immediately ripened myself if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was already soaked.  I’d been stuffed with my ben wa balls all day and ordered not to cum.  It hadn’t been that hard of course.  It takes more than just the constant rolling around of the two latex covered metal spheres to push me over the edge, but darned if it didn’t arouse me and keep me that way for practically the entire day.  And that’s the point, isn’t it?  To keep me ready?

                Kari continued to whip Robert until he lost his hard on which I though terribly cruel.  Then she laughed, turned to face me, and grinned.  I’ve seen that grin before, usually before I end up saying “owww!”  Kari took a few steps forward, her feet crossing at the ankles, her hips swinging.  I felt my heartbeat increase and I licked my lips in frightened anticipation.  Kari was wearing one of her normal “torture” outfits, a tight fitting leather combo of vest and pants that had the crotch cut out.  It left her female anatomy obviously exposed, while placing a sort of mystique around the rest of her.  There was no doubt about who was running things in that particular dungeon. 

                She grabbed my arm and pushed me up against the new wooden pillar.  I found myself staring across a few feet of space at Robert, who in turn was watching me.  Kari cuffed my hands behind my back, locking the heavy leather wrist cuffs together with a carbineer.  She moved me again and I felt the strain in my arms as she moved me so that the leather top of the wooden pillar was between my arms and my back.  I had to bend myself backward, looking up at the sky.  The high heels I was wearing, with four inch spikes, didn’t help and I felt a hard pressure in my shoulders and back.  I had to spread my legs wide just to keep things balanced.  Then Kari ran her hands down my arms and I was pulled even farther.  She locked my wrists half way down the pillar and nothing I could do made things easier.

                Looking at Robert made my neck ache so I ended up staring up at the ceiling.  Then Kari pulled out two short lengths of steel chain.  These were connected from the base of the wooden pillar to my ankles, ostensibly spreading me even farther.  My thighs trembled and I tried to put out of my mind, the knowledge of what was about to happen.

                Yes, I know.  It probably would have been better if I had been clueless, but this was an Assignment from Master H, and frankly no one sends assignments to KARI.  I’m the one that gets them.  So I knew what was coming.  Sort of.  It’s why I wasn’t to surprised when Kari slipped my butterfly clitoral vibrator around my waist and settled the plastic pink bug over my sex.  She turned it on too, to the highest setting, and in seconds my hips were rolling as my body tried to deal with both a day’s worth of arousal without climax and the immediate and intense stimulation of my clit.

                But that was just the beginning, because almost immediately after starting the coital earthquake between my legs, Kari hauled out a pair of clover clamps and latched them tightly on both nipples.  Pain rippled through me, sparking at the tips of my breasts to shoot down my spine.  The discomfort coalesced with the churning between my legs, and then enhanced, fortified, and doubled, it went straight to my brain.  A hook in the ceiling, another chain with D link attachment, and a step stool stolen from the wooden horse, enabled Kari to finish off my bondage.  I gasped as my breasts were drawn upward, the clamps tightening on my nipples.  I wasn’t exactly hanging by my breasts, but Kari tightened things until it was almost likely the clamps would snap off.  And if you are familiar with clover clamps, you know how tough it is to make that happen.

                My muscles burned, especially in my back, my calves, and my shoulders, but that was nothing compared to the pain at the tips of my breasts.  And that was entirely as Kari wanted.  I tried not to move but quickly found that impossible as the clitoral stimulator worked at me.  Kari stepped away, went to the small cupboard at the side of the room, and pulled out a purple wand.

                If you’re familiar with these devices, then you know that she not only plugged it in, but that it glowed.  Then with excruciating slowness, she brought it close to my clamped nipple.  I tried to brace myself, but she waited for me to relax again, moving the last five inches rapidly.  The electric shock hammered me, sending a very different feeling of pain through my breast.  She did it again before I had even recovered, except this time on the other nipple.  Then she spent the next few minutes touching me in various places with the purple wand; the underarms, my ribs, my ears, my labia.  Nothing was safe.  And through it all I was shaking like mad with desire.

                “Oh!  He’s ready!” Kari suddenly declared.  She put down the wand and returned to Robert.  Another coating of oil lubricated his cock nicely and Kari once more began long, full length, strokes, working Robert’s shaft with single minded intensity.  I was left to hurt and cum, watching when I could lift my head and listening to Robert’s groans of pleasure.  She forced him right to the edge again and as his face colored and I watched to see him pop, she suddenly let go, grabbed the purple wand, and touched it to the tip of his cock.

                Robert didn’t cum.   She zapped him repeatedly in the crotch, on his penis, and on his testicles.  No place was safe.  She tortured him until his dick was once again a small, frail, little worm.  He sagged in his bonds and she turned her attention back to me just in time to catch me clenching my teeth, exploding with a breath stopping explosion that had me reeling.  She moved behind me quickly and fiddled with something under my hands.  I felt a new pressure, a pull, and then my hands were cuffed even lower.  Finding an acceptable position was impossible.  I was bent awkwardly over that padded leather seat.  Not that I cared, at least not at that moment.  All I knew was that I had popped like a water balloon against a girl dressed only in white.  Perfect climax.  

                Bent even farther back over the pillar, my breasts now achieved a new height in pain.  I was a larger distance away from the hook in the ceiling and my bosom was now quite distended.  Something akin to lightning was flashing along my nerves and since Kari had deliberately NOT turned down the clitoral stimulator, I was rapidly approaching not only a second orgasm, but the dividing line between overstimulation and pleasure.  I shook like mad and Kari responded by taking one of the lit candles off the side table. I braced myself as Kari held the candle only six inches above my chest, and poured.  Liquid flame fell, bright red, Kari’s favorite color, to land in my cleavage. I felt the lava flow downward between my breasts, cooling as it went, but heating me just the same.  Then Kari moved the candle and drop fell onto my stretched breasts.  It burned and I couldn’t help trying to pull away.  The chain between me and the ceiling grew taut and the clover clamps seemed to tighten even more.  I cried out, my brain almost exploding as my body shook.   The sensation between my legs seemed to intensify and then I screamed in release, cumming with a shout that seemed to stun even Kari.  It lasted for what seemed like forever as I was carried along on a blissfully numbing cloud of endorphins and adrenaline.   The pain in my shoulders, my neck, my calves, even my breasts, disappeared for  that suspended moment.  It wasn’t until Kari lowered the padded leather support along my back and then pulled the handcuffs even lower that I came out of it. 

                I was bent even further and now my upper torso was not getting the support it needed.  I tried to keep myself raised up, but the cuffs kept me bent. 

                “My breasts!” I cried out, just as the clover clamp snapped, pulled off my nipple by my own weight.  Pain blossomed in me, a fiery agony that swamped every last sense of satisfaction my last orgasm had provided.  Kari came back around as I choked down the sobs and tried to ignore my increasingly difficult position, not to mention the now quite discomforting buzz against my clitoris.  Kari let out more chain and then, in what I can only call the cruelest moment, clamped my nipples a second time.

                I could now only see Robert with great difficulty, but I heard him.  It was tough NOT to hear him! Kari, after clamping me and leaving me to stew with my ben wa balls and butterfly vibrator, had returned to my fellow sex slave and proceeded to once again work him to hardness.  A quick glance told me that he’d received another coating of oil and was hard again almost immediately.  As I tried to deal with the now burning itch between my legs as my clit was over-stimulated, Robert tried work himself into orgasm, thrusting like mad against Kari’s fingers.  But like before, she stopped right before he came.  This time she used the candle, coating his cock with a thick layer of hot wax.  Oddly, it didn’t make Robert soft this time and he continued to thrust his hips wildly forward, his paraffin covered shaft bobbing like a strawberry frosted donut. 

                I was nearing the end of rope figuratively speaking.  The stresses my position placed upon my body were beginning to weaken me and I wondered whether my arms would rip out of my sockets if my legs gave out.  Then I realized that in all likelihood, my weight would be supported by the nipple clamps, at least for a while.  That idea was just as frightening.  I was still thinking about that when the willow switch cut a line across the underside of both breasts.  I let out a cry that would have sent most people running.  It invigorated Kari and another cut impacted on the super tender undersides of my bosom.  Kari let loose with a flurry of strokes that turned my vision red and left me raw and breathless.  My jerking around had not helped matters with the nipple clamps and the itch between my legs had turned into a fire.

                No doubt you’re wondering if I broke.  The answer is complicated because frankly, I’m complicated.  Did I break?  No.  Not really.  Not in the way you mean.  I didn’t beg for release, not that Kari would have granted it anyway, but what happened was in a way, a resolution.  Because of what I am, I didn’t collapse, or break, or sob.  Nope.  I came.  Hard.  And that’s the real difference between someone who identifies themselves a pain slut and someone who just likes a little bit of spanking.  Pain turns me on.  As my clit overloaded and the vibrations changed from pleasure to extreme agony, it didn’t turn me off.  It turned me on.  And my churning hips and tortured breasts were just the icing on the cake.  I exploded wetly, my entire body tense and shaking, literally juices squirting from me, out from under the butterfly vibrator.  Kari gasped in surprise and laughed with delight.

                And left me like that.

                The willow switch flicked against Robert’s cock, snapping the wax from his shaft with deft strokes.  He cried out, the pain clearly overwhelming.  But while I sagged into sexual euphoria, Robert grimaced, his hard cock bobbing until it diminished once more into softness.  Kari kissed him just as I was starting to fade, my vision darkening.  Then she quickly came back to the pillar, uncuffed my hands, and lifted me to an almost standing position.  The pressure on my back disappeared though I had tons of aches.  My clit was throbbing and felt as if some evil leprechaun was rapidly rubbing sandpaper back and forth across the tiny nub. 

                Kari released my ankles next and I fell to my knees as my hands went to my crotch.  It was everything I could do to keep from turning off the butterfly vibe, but then Kari was pushing me forward.  My nose bumped into Robert’s cock and I knew what Kari wanted me to do.  I opened up and took his soft member into my mouth.  My tongue swirled around him and he hardened in seconds.  Stimulation and torture will do that to you.  I tried to ignore my own torment as I suckled him, bobbing my head in slow strokes as I worked his shaft into rock hard readiness.  I could feel him getting ready to blow and as I picked up the pace, I felt Kari’s fingers wrap around my hair and yank me back.  Robert’s oiled and saliva coated cock bobbed in perfection and Kari shoved me out of the way.  I fell to the floor and watched in jealous amazement as Kari turned around, grabbed Robert, and backed onto him.  His cock penetrated deeply in Kari’s sex and I watched from my unique position on the floor as she pumped herself against him.  I rolled and crawled closer, lifting up, still ignoring the buzzing between my legs.

                My tongue found her clit and I literally felt Robert’s cock rubbing against my chin as I tongued her.  Evidently it was too much for the ice queen because I felt her hands grab my head and hold me against her groin and then Kari let out a tiny gasp, a cry that wouldn’t have even roused a room.  She shuddered once, then pushed me away, pulling herself free of Robert.  The poor man still hadn’t cum and while Kari collapsed to the floor twitching, I drew the ben wa balls out of my pussy, tore off the butterfly vibrator, and mounted him.

                It took only four good thrusts, face to face, before Robert unloaded.  I felt him jerk inside me and then he slumped.  I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly against me.  He sighed softly and then his head dipped down.  He kissed me lightly and I smiled. 

                “Feel better?” I asked.

                Robert chuckled.  “Much.  She’s going to kill you though.”

                I grinned.  “We’ll see.”  I glanced over to where Kari was still lying on the floor.  Her eyes were closed and she was still very much lost in the euphoria that comes with strong orgasm.  I let go of Robert and went over to Kari.  A light nudge with my toe made her eyes open.

                “You okay?” I asked softly.  Kari has never been able to deal with the powerful sensations of exploding and there will lingering tremors rumbling through her muscles.  She looked up at me though, eyes glazed with satisfaction.  She blinked and the daze cleared.

                “You took off the butterfly,” she said.

                I nodded.  “Had to take care of my lover,” I replied.

                She smiled and reached out to me.  I took her hand and helped her to her feet. 

                “Thanks,” she said.  I had to keep a hold of her as she took a step, she wobbled so much.  But after a few steps her equilibrium returned and she looked down at Robert’s flaccid cock.  She glanced at me with a quirked eyebrow and I shrugged with a vapid smile.  Robert refused to meet her gaze.  Finally she shook her head.  Then she reached out and grabbed hold of my right nipple, lifting up the breast. I groaned but didn’t complain or pull away.  Her fingers slid across the dark welts left from her switch.  Then she let go.

                “Oh well.  All’s well that ends well,” she said.

                I agree.  Completely.

                Don’t you?

 

Breanne Erickson is the author of the "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" series, the ongoing recounting of her sexual escapades.  You can find her tales and other novels at her website: www.nymphohumiliationpainsluts.com! 

Desperation

Desperation is a difficult thing to deal with you know.  It makes you a little crazy, a little silly, perhaps even a little giggly.  Wait… is giggly actually a word?  Eh… who cares right?  But you have to understand that desperation makes you do desperate things.  It can make you careless, or carefree, or even just plain stupid.  My desperation right now is driving me absolutely crazy.  There are a hundred things I should be working on.  I could be writing out one of the assignments I’ve finished and I know you are waiting for.  I could be folding laundry right now.  I could be playing with Rachel.  I could be out riding my horse Star.   Or I could be tied down to a torture table with someone holding a vibrator to my clit and making me scream in orgasmic ecstasy for hours on end.

This tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but can be read in Breanne Erickson's e-book anthology "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" Volume 6. 

 

Also, check out the BreanneApedia for all things Breanne!

Breanne Erickson is the author of "Coming of Age - A BDSM Romance" as well as the highly rated and controversial novel "The Society of the Golden Rose."  Check out her work at www.nymphohumiliationpainsluts.com!

The Original Nippleband

http://nipplebands.com/

Excerpt from Breanne Erickson's "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" Volume #1

When I was 13 or so my parents got me braces; nothing spectacular, just some minor dental work to fix a crowded jaw and a little overbite.  Eventually I had a spectacular smile with straight teeth.  Thanks Mom & Dad!  I know it cost you!  Anyway, for a grueling three or four months I was required to have a certain amount of tension on my braces.  To do that, the orthodontist provided me with a pack of really small rubber bands, so tiny that they would barely fit around the tip of my pinky finger.  Fortunately I didn’t have to wear them that long, and that left me with a small container filled with the little rubber bands.  About four years later my former Mistress and best friend found them sitting in my medicine cabinet and they quickly found their way onto both of my nipples.  This created all sorts of mischief and mayhem, from making me wear them without a bra, to putting several on at a time and creating a sort of tight clamp that fit right around my nubs. 

Since then I’ve always kept a supply on hand and I made my way to my awesome toy box and moved aside dildos and vibrators, ben wa balls and the French tickler, clamps and chains and cuffs and even a bag of tiny tacks, until I found what I was looking for: a small clear plastic box of little rubber bands.  I fished two out and snagged some duct tape (don’t ask why this is in my toy box…at least not right now.  That’s a story for another day) and went to my window.  I took off my tee shirt and then opened the pane.  In seconds the cool air had my skin raised in goose bumps and both nipples were hard as rocks.  I quickly applied my rubber bands and then closed the window.  Three inches of duct tape torn in two provided two silver strips which went horizontally across both breasts, making sure the bands wouldn’t slip off.  For me, I doubted that would have happened since the tightness of the rubber bands would keep both nipples hard.  But hey, I try. - Breanne

 While orthodontia bands might have been what was on hand, imagine what would have been possible if Breanne had a couple of The Original Nipplebands at hand.  Perhaps Kari will buy her some.  I'd like to see an assignment with Breanne sporting these!

Erotic Monster Manual

When I was sixteen, my then girlfriend dragged me to my first ever Dungeons and Dragons game.  It was a family affair.  Her father was the DM (Dungeon Master or Game Master) and her two younger brothers rounded out the party.  My girlfriend (who would eventually become my wife) played a gallant lady knight, a Paladin with a magic sword.  Her brothers respectively were a temperamental dwarf and a young wizard overly fond of casting the spell "fireball."  I learned quite quickly that when encountering one of the many beasties of the Dungeon and Dragon's world that the first thing I should do was duck.  Not because I was being attacked by said creature, but because undoubtedly my wife's wizarding younger brother would cast fireball regardless of the fact that everyone else in his party was standing in front of him. I played an elven Ranger Lord whose aristocratic style grated on the dwarf to no end.  Game play was often hilarious.

Earlier today, while doing some research for a new novel, I encountered something that I couldn't help laughing at and thoroughly enjoying.  If you are a fan, in any way, of Tolkien, Baulder's Gate, or Dungeons and Dragons, then take a few moments to appreciate the art from the Erotic Monster Manual Contest hosted at Something Awful.  It is well worth your time and if you really are a fan, you'll get the jokes!

Temperature Change

July 4th 2012        

   Not to be irreligious, but I’ve always wondered what was going through Jesus’ mind when he was forced to carry his cross up to Golgotha. I mean, seriously, talk about psychological torment on top of physical.  He KNEW he would shortly be NAILED to the damn thing.  I’m surprised he didn’t just throw it down, glare at the Roman soldiers and say “Fuck you. You carry it!”  I mean, that’s what I would have done.  Of course I’m not Christ, not by a long shot.  And my cross wasn’t exactly a twelve foot piece of heavy lumber.  It was just a cooler.  Granted, it had a twenty five pound block of ice in it, but still, that’s not like a cross.

            I didn’t carry it far either.  My cooler has wheels, which I think was a brilliant addition on the part of the manufacturer.  I’ve heard of bad things happening while carrying coolers with twenty five pound blocks of ice in them.  I didn’t want to slip a disc or something, right?

            But still, there was something… diabolical in being dispatched to bring the instrument of one’s own torment back to the condo.  Wasn’t it enough that I would shortly be mounted on that block of ice?  Mounted might be too strong a word.  After all, it wasn’t like it had a cock or anything.  No, perhaps the better word might be “riding.” 

            I stopped in front of the door.  A large white oleander bush concealed the front porch from the street, a nicety I appreciated. I grabbed hold of my halter top and yanked it upward, baring both breasts.  My left nipple was normal, but my right breast sported a golden hoop that pierced the tip, as well as a small charm-sized padlock baring the black enameled logo of a rose.  I shoved my halter into the small bag I had brought with me and then peeled my shorts down off my ass.  There weren’t any panties and the shorts were skin tight.  Those went down to my flip flops, which I stepped out of at the same time.

            Naked, I once again grabbed the handle of the cooler and knocked sharply on the door.  It took only a moment before it opened and I grinned as I saw Robert in the entranceway.  He was a large man, with ripped pectorals, thick arms and legs, and not an ounce of fat anywhere on him.  He’s handsome, clean shaven, rugged, and his cock is seven and a quarter inches long.  I know.  Kari and I measured him once.  As usual, he was buck naked, except this time his cock wasn’t exposed.  It was wrapped snug and secure in one of Kari’s leather and steel bondage devices and the exposed tip of his cock stuck out at me, practically begging me to get down and lick the large red colored head.

            “Hi Robert!” I said with a grin.  “You look a little desperate.”

            He laughed, nodding and reached out to take the cooler handle from me.  “It’s been awhile for me Breanne.  Kari and Mistress Savanah have been letting Kylie torment me.

            I blinked. “Kylie’s here?” I asked, quite surprised.  Kylie was one of the other girls from the Society, a sweet little petite brunette who could have passed for a high school cheerleader despite her twenty three years of age.  She still shopped for clothing in the juniors sections.  She and I had a special relationship.  Granted it was mostly due to the fact that we spent a decent amount of time with our faces between the other’s legs, but I really liked her personality.  After the Society had evolved into something less brutal and more relaxed, Kylie had blossomed into someone almost as sexually deviant as me.  She wasn’t as much into the whole masochism thing, but you should see that girl get off at being humiliated in public! 

“Yeah.  She and Mistress Savannah have been here for over an hour,” Robert replied with a look of chagrin.  I took a closer look at Robert’s cock and saw the glistening signs of moisture and figured that Kylie had been doing exactly what I WANTED to do for the last fifty or so minutes.  Awesome for Kylie.  Not so awesome for Robert.  Poor guy.

I followed him into the condominium and was blasted by the cool air.  Kari is one of those crazy people that have to keep the air conditioning right at seventy three.  I suppose it serves a purpose.  My nipples are always nice and hard and I rarely am forced to rely on pinches or ice to do it.  The room was dark, but lighted enough to see, and my eyes immediately locked on Kylie, who was kneeling naked in the center of the living room floor.  Like me, her right nipple was also pierced, sporting the exact same gold padlock.

She was also stuffed with a something motorized because I could see the wires coming out from between her legs.  Mistress Savannah was sitting on the easy chair next to her, leaning forward, holding the remote and I grinned as Kylie smiled at me, trying to repress her twitching.

“Hi Kari!  Hi Mistress Savannah!” I said brightly as I came around the sofa.  Kari was sitting there in a patriotic colored tee shirt and white shorts.  Red, white, and blue stripes crossed her breasts in cotton colors and I fell to my knees in front of her, leaning forward.  Kari’s eyes found mine and for a moment I was breathless.  The intensity of her gaze, the depth of emotion in it overwhelmed me.  Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Kari loves me.  Sometimes it comes back and smacks me in the face like a paddle on the rump.  I started to smile, to bask in that warmth, when suddenly her eyes changed.  She still loved me, but there was something else there.  She reached out and grabbed hold of the padlock on my right breast and gave it a half twist.  A distinct discomfort shot through my breast and I held still, hoping she wouldn’t twist it any farther.

“I saw your twitter feed yesterday,” she whispered, so softly that I doubted anyone but me could hear her.  I winced, and not because of the twisting of my nipple.  Yesterday Kari had ordered me to wear my Rotating Venus Penis, a specific sex toy designed to spin as well as vibrate.  I had sort of tricked Master Barrett into allowing me to cum that morning, instead of enduring the slow stewing and public orgasm that Kari had originally intended.  Master Barrett hadn’t been to pleased either once he dug a little deeper and discovered that I had deceived him.  So instead of an easy, if socially embarrassing Harry Met Sally Moment somewhere, I had to keep the RVP on its highest setting whenever I wasn’t driving or with family.  In essence, I had spent most of the previous day orgasming.

Which was actually not so bad.  It meant that I was braced for today.  The likelihood of my cumming quickly was cut in half.  Of course, I might have overdone it too.  Fourteen orgasms in one day is, after all, a lot.  I smiled at Kari, trying to formulate an apology.

“And then there is the issue of your latest assignment posting,” Kari hissed, giving my nipple another half twist.  I winced and clenched my teeth, trying not to squeal.  Pain shot up through my breast and I tilted slightly to the left to try to relieve some of the pressure.  It didn’t help.  I knew exactly what she was talking about too.  I had put the jumbo alligator clamp somewhere, doing something dangerous, and she didn’t like it. 

“Today is not going to be easy on you,” Kari said, a bit louder this time.  Then she released my breast and I sagged down.  A residual ache seeped up from the tip of my breast into my shoulder and I resisted the urge to massage myself.  Kari looked back over her shoulder at Robert.

“Would you pleased get the ice set up like we discussed?” she told him.  I kept my eyes down but knew he had nodded obediently.  I heard the plastic wheels of my cooler running over the carpet.  A moment later the sliding glass door leading to the porch opened and then he was out in the morning heat.

“I think Breanne should greet Kylie, don’t you, Kari?” Savannah asked politely, with her southern drawl.  Kari nodded and I turned around and crawled over to where Kylie knelt, still shaking from whatever torment was going on inside her. 

Greetings amongst the slave girls of the Society of the Golden Rose is a simple affair.  It basically involves a very wet, very deep French kiss, while at the same time inserting at least two fingers into the sex of the person you are greeting.  It’s a nice, very erotic, intense greeting and I’ve experienced quite a few of them.  Some of the mistresses even like watching the greetings develop into outright sex.  I’ve made love to Kylie a few times like that.

I knelt in front of her, my legs spread and she immediately leaned forward.  I felt her hand on me only a second before her tongue slipped into my mouth and there was the heady scent of her vanilla perfume.  I kissed her back as my fingers moved along her thigh.  She penetrated first though, slipping into my depths and finding the pair of ben wa balls I had inside me.  My own fingertips found a pair of vibrating bullets, two egg shaped objects that shook like mad inside her.  For fun, I pushed them around, wriggling my fingers like mad while my thumb repeatedly grazed her clit.  I knew if she had an orgasm Savannah would punish her.

Evidently Kylie knew it too and pulled back right when she was on the edge of exploding.  Her face was flushed and her chest heaved.  A guilty look crossed her face and then she glared at me, well aware that I had just tried to get her in trouble.  I shrugged, a wicked smile still on my face.  Then I turned toward Mistress Savannah. I crawled to her and planted a single chaste kiss on her bare foot.

I heard the sliding glass door open.  “Everything’s ready, Kari.” Robert announced.  Kari stood up and put her hand on my head.

“Let’s go, Breanne.  Time to chill.”

I swallowed.  I had known exactly what the ice was for.  It had been an assignment sent to me by one of my online fans and it was one that would chill me.  I’m no stranger to ice. I’ve had it in me, on me, over me, and even through me.  But one thing I’ve never done is ride it.  Michael Alexander once wrote a story about the fictional “Breanne” going to a party and being abused with ice.  I live in south Texas and ice… well… it’s something you put in your tea.  Not in your slave girls.

I crawled, following along as both Savannah and Kylie rose.  In a sort of July Fourth parade we went outside.  Kari’s backyard has this overgrown jungle sort of feel.  There is only a small glade of grass, surrounded by bamboo and juniper and Japanese maple.  As usual, the setting was perfectly arranged.  Two lounge recliners complete with matching cushions were placed at opposite ends of a low table, filled to the brim with cut watermelon and other more interesting objects.  Robert had run an electrical extension cord out and there was a fan blowing a light breeze.  My cooler sat in the grass, and there, right in front of everything, was a block of ice, sitting in a box, wrapped with towels.  Worse, one edge of the block was facing up.  And just so you have this correctly in your mind, there is a difference between a SIDE and an EDGE.

This tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but can be read in Breanne Erickson's e-book anthology "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" Volume 6. 

 

Also, check out the BreanneApedia for all things Breanne!

Breanne Erickson is the author of "Coming of Age - A BDSM Romance", "The Society of the Golden Rose" and the popular "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" Series!  Check out her website at www.nymphohumiliationpainsluts.com!

More of the Best!

Coming of Age - A BDSM Romance now has it's own "book" page on facebook!  We'll be posting little tidbits there every now and then - insights into the book so take a moment and click "Like" when you have a chance!   http://www.facebook.com/comingofagebdsm

There is also more interior illustration artwork over at the Deviant Art Gallery!  Just a warning though: if you aren't a free member, you can't view most of the work due to the age restrictions!  We'll be posting some of it on Michael Alexander Stories soon!

You can also peruse Breanne's new website: "www.nymphohumiliationpainsluts.com"!

Conditioned Response

During the 1890’s, there was a Russian physiologist named Ivan Petrovich Pavlov who noticed odd behavior coming from his test subjects.  He was investigating the gastric function in dogs and noticed that every time his lab assistant came in to feed the dogs, they began salivating before the food arrived.  In time, Pavlov realized that the dogs had been conditioned to expect food every time they saw that lab assistant.  And thus the psychological concept of “conditioned response” was born.  Most animals can be “conditioned” to have a reflex response to an outside stimuli: a gesture, a bell… a buzzer.

I was sitting at my desk working on another write up when the buzzer went off.  I could hear it through the shut and locked door of my bedroom, coming from down the hall.  It was laundry day and the sound indicated that my third load of clothing was done.  I closed my eyes, dreading the next few minutes.  My chest started heaving as my body prepared for the coming pain.  As I lifted my hands, I noticed my fingers trembling.  It wasn’t the first time I had done this, but the sixth or seventh. I had lost track.  My fingers grasped the black metal binder clips that were delicately but firmly attached to my nipples and pinched them open.

It was tough to keep from screaming as the blood rushed back into the crushed tips of both breasts.  I did fall over though, smacking my head into the wood of my desk, just barely missing the opportunity to leave an imprint of the computer keyboard on my forehead.  I dropped the binder clips on my the desk, listening to their clatter as the buzzing from the dryer continued, calling me.  I didn’t want to get up.  I SO didn’t want to get up.

“Bre!  Breanne!” my mother called from downstairs.  “The dryer is done!”

I rolled my eyes.  “I know!  Thanks!  I’ll be there in a minute!” I called down, trying to keep the stress out of my voice.  I took a shuddering breath, ignoring the throbbing of my nipples.  I tugged down my shirt, covering my bare breasts.  I smoothed down my skirt.  Then I stood up.

The slipping sensation hit me immediately, only to stop in what can only be described as blinding pain.  My fingers tightened on the desk as I grimaced, my hips churning in a lewd and quite sexual motion.  My clit felt as if it were being torn off my body as my pussy tightened convulsively around the foot long Core Driller dildo that was now only partially embedded inside me.  I gasped, then bit my lip in an effort to keep from wailing.  My hips continued to rock violently, which did not help things one bit.

I had been suffering for the entire morning, responding to the buzzing alarm of the dryer with regular agony.  It had all started with a simple chat message from Master Barrett, one that I have come to both appreciate and fear.  “I’m feeling sadistic today,” he informed me politely.  I braced myself.  It was early and it was laundry day, meaning that I had already done my morning chores, stuffed to the brim with my Husky dildo held in with a pair of panties.   Light, easy, with no pain.

That changed in a heartbeat.

The first thing that changed was that the insertion of my four inch butt plug had been ordered.  I’m not a fan of things in my ass, but I was hardly in a position to refuse.  Then the Husky dildo came out, only to be replaced by my Core Driller dildo, which was two inches longer and quite a bit thicker.  This replacement was a compromise of sorts, since Master Barrett had wanted me to wear my jumbo alligator clamp, attached to my clitoris, weighted to keep me hurting and swinging.  And yet, when I pointed out to him that I couldn’t wear the clamp AND the panties, which were holding the Husky dildo, we ended up making a compromise.

Well, actually, he compromised and I was tortured even more.  So instead of the Husky, I was stuffed with the Core Driller. Instead of panties holding in the thick rubber cock, I had attached a four inch chain and D clip from the metal ring at the base of the Core Driller to my alligator clamp.  So every time I stood, a decent six pound dildo tried valiantly to slide out of my pussy, only to be stopped short by the chain, which was attached to the jumbo alligator clamp, which was biting down on my clit with sharp metal teeth.

Walking was a nightmare.  Every step caused the chain between my legs to tug painfully and there was this constant sensation of the dildo falling out and being fucked all at the same time.  Combined with the almost unbearable pain of having so much weight hanging, even if only partially, from my clit, and I’m surprised I was even functioning on a conscious level.  You’d think I’d have been on the floor in a fetal position, drooling or something.

The dryer buzzing had stopped but I took a few steps toward the door.  Out of twelve inches of rubber cock, at least five had slipped out of my sex and the arrestor chain that was connected to my clit was pulled taut.  I could feel the metal teeth of the clamp tearing at my sex and it was only with great willpower that I was even able to make it to the door.  Every step was another brush with both pain and sexual desperation.

Yes, sexual desperation.  I know it’s tough to imagine, but I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut.  Being hurt, at least being hurt in certain ways, at certain times, turns me on.  Don’t think I’m going to lust after your cock if you come over and break my arm.  But at that moment, with my clit pinched tightly between those metal jaws, tugged painfully downward, while my hungry and incredibly wet pussy tried to keep that dildo embedded as deeply as possible, I was a contradiction in terms.  And after four or so hours of non-stop stimulation and torture, I was right on the edge.

I assembled some sort of cloak of respectability around me.  After all, my family was home.  I padded down the hall and looked down the stairs.  I almost wished I could take advantage of my father’s stair lift, a motorized seat that allowed him to rise to the second floor with little effort, or come back down.  But how would I explain my need?  “I’m sorry Mom, but I took Dad’s lift because I was afraid my dildo would slide out and thus rip off my clitoris.”  I blinked.  Not an explanation I wanted to give.  So instead I took the first of a dozen or so steps, shards of exquisite agony exploding between my legs and making my arousal even more of a problem.  By the time I got to the bottom of the staircase I could detect the sweet musky scent of my need and I hurried, as much as the dildo and clit clamp would allow, to the utility room.

It didn’t take me long to unload the dryer, put a wet load in, set up the washer with the whites, and then make my long way back upstairs to my bedroom with the dry laundry.  They needed folding.  Climbing the stairs was even more agonizing and I had to stop halfway up to catch my breath.  Finally I made it back to my room, closed and locked the door, and tossed the basket of clean laundry on the bed.

You might think, “wow, at least it’s over.”  Right?  But I knew better.  My torment, my punishment, my problems had only just begun.  I shuffled over to my chair and prepared to sit down.  Most people don’t have to prepare, they just do it.  But in my case, it was an absolute necessity.

I groaned out loud as the five inches of Core Driller dildo immediately and deeply re-penetrated my depths.  The tip of the dildo slammed into my cervix and I had to rock, which of course tugged on the chain that was no longer taut between my clit and the dildo.  But the new position literally pulled the alligator clamp chewing on my sensitive nub to the side, sending new slivers of pain through my loins.  I couldn’t help it.  It didn’t matter if it hurt.  I started to bounce, literally standing up in my seat as my hands went to my breasts to lift my shirt.

I stopped my up and down gyrations only long enough to put the binder clamps back on my nipples.  The very different pain shattered a few more barriers and finally, for the first time that morning, I felt the sexual pressure overwhelm the pain.  They began to combine in dark swirls.  I put my knuckles between my teeth, the climax of orgasm making me shake and cry out.  I rose and then dropped down as hard as possible, my body shuddering in release. 

It took a while, but it was the pain that brought me back through the sex induced euphoria.  Everything hurt.  My clit felt as if it was being chewed on by a shark.  My pussy felt bruised, as if I’d been fucked by a baseball bat wielding lesbian “butch”.  My nipples throbbed in crushed oblivion, and my ass… well my ass was so tightly locked around the anal plug that I suspected that I’d need medical assistance to get it out. 

But I had cum, and that was what the last four hours had been all about.  Cumming.  I hadn’t been allowed to touch myself, to stimulate myself into orgasm.  The pain was terrible, but I stilled myself enough to pick up the phone.  I heard the ring on the other end of the line and then Kari’s voice greeted me.

“Let me guess.  You are in a state,” she said.

“How did you guess?” I asked, my voice tinged with the discomfort of my circumstances.

“Oh, the fact you called at eleven thirty in the morning.  The fact that you sound desperate or in pain.  Do I need to list all the audible clues?”

I shuddered. “No.  But I need permission to do something.  Barrett insisted,” I replied.

           

There was a dark silence.  “Barrett insisted?” Kari asked.

I swallowed.  “Yes Kari.”

“What does he want you to do?” she asked.

I took another deep breath.  Presentation was absolutely essential on this.  “Well, now that I’ve had an orgasm, I have to go down to the barn and do ten NHPS jumping jacks.”

I heard a pencil scratching over the line.  “I see,” Kari replied.  “What else?”

“I have to masturbate to another orgasm afterword,” I told her.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”  Kari seemed almost inattentive.  I sighed in relief.  If she had asked the details… I’d have been in trouble.

“So what’s the catch?” Kari suddenly asked. 

I trembled, my heart sinking.  “Catch?  There’s no catch,” I stammered.

I could practically hear her shaking her head.  “No.  There’s a catch.  You wouldn’t be calling me for permission if that’s all there is.  No, this isn’t a normal case of jumping jacks.  Did he want the weights on you?”

I swallowed.  “Yes.”

“And clamped?”

“Yes.”  I closed my eyes.  Please don’t ask more, Kari!

“And I presume you’ll be stuffed?” she asked.

“Yes, Kari.”

There was another pause.  “Your Husky dildo?”

“No.”  My voice had shrunk down to a tiny squeak.

“This feels like I’m pulling teeth, Bre.  Either tell me or the answer is no.”

I took a deep breath.  “I’m wearing my Core Driller, no panties and I’m using a D link and the jumbo alligator clamp to keep the Core Driller from falling out,” I said in a rush.

“You’re WHAT?” Kari asked, clearly astounded.

“I’ve got the Core Driller…” I started to say, only to have her interrupt

“Did I hear you correctly?  You are holding the Core Driller in by attaching it to your CLIT with that damn supersized Alligator Clamp?” she demanded.

I shrank down in my chair. “Yes, Kari.”

“And you want to do jumping jacks like that?  Are you fucking insane?  That will tear your clit and leave you bleeding in the middle of the barn you stupid twit!” Kari said violently.

I grit my teeth.  “I don’t think that will happen. I’m pretty…”

Kari ripped into me again. “I don’t care what you think because it’s pretty obvious you aren’t thinking.  What the hell was Barrett thinking for that matter!  I realize that you love the pain, but the two of you need to stop smoking whatever it that you are smoking and understand reality here.”

“But Kari!” I protested.  “It’s just ten jumps.  I’ll space them out and go easy.”

There was sudden silence.  “You’re serious.  You think you can do this, can’t you?”

“Yes,” I said solidly.

“No.  You can’t.  This is stupid.”  There was a moments silence on the other end of the line as I contemplated my options. I was feeling just a bit sullen.

“All right, you want your clit hurt, so you’ll get your clit hurt.  But it will NOT be with the jumbo alligator clamp,” Kari said.  “Instead you will hold the Core Driller in with a clover clamp on your clit.  That way if it falls off for some reason, it doesn’t leave you bleeding and in need of stitches.”

“But Kari!” I exclaimed.

“No buts.  This is an order.  And tell Barrett I’m glad he made you check with me first.  Men.  Do you understand?  Use the clover clamp.”

“Yes Kari,” I replied sullenly.

“Good.  Don’t forget.  We’ve got another Society meeting coming up next week.”

“I know.” Another society meeting. Great. 

“Be safe, Bre.”  Then Kari hung up.

I put my hands in my head and rubbed my face.  I still hurt, but I felt wrung out too.  Any confrontation with Kari left me feeling raw.  But finally I stood up, got my toy box out of the closet, and extracted my clover clamps.  It didn’t take much to free one of them from the chain and then I tugged my shirt down and once more endured the painful process of going downstairs.  The Core Driller slid out and every step resulted in another painful drawing sensation on my clit.

Outside in the barn I once more lifted my shirt and crushed each nipple with the binder clamps.  Then came the painful process of changing out the alligator clamp with the clover clamp.  Clover clamps are a unique design, since the very act of pulling on them tends to tighten them even more.  So after gasping and having to sit for a few minutes on a hay bale after releasing the alligator clamp from my clit, I stood with the dark but even tighter pressure of the clover clamp crushing my tender nub.  Instead of biting me, the clamp was nomming me to death.  I stood up. The Core Driller slid out of my pussy and then stopped.  The clover did its job.  Surprise surprise.

I picked up the half pound metal weights and hung them on my binder clips.  The pain from my breasts doubled.   Then I put my arms down at my sides, closed my legs tightly and jumped.  My arms flew up as did my entire torso.  My ankles went wide and a number of things happened all at once.

My breasts bounced, each with heavy weights dangling from the tips.  That hurt, sending shards of pain through my torso.  Down between my legs I actually felt the Core Driller go back up into me an inch before trying to come out even farther.  The chain halted it though, which of course put terrible pressure on my clit.  I let out a cry that might even have been heard inside the house a hundred feet away and between the walls of two structures.

But before I could think about it, my limbs swung again and I snapped back to attention.  The pain was brutal.  My breasts felt as if they were being ripped from my body, by the tips no less.  But that was nothing compared to the pain I felt from the clamp on my clit.  The Core Driller dildo wasn’t light and the chain connecting my sex toy and my clitoris had snapped taut and sent the equivalent of having a sharp wooden stake pounded through my body. 

I clenched as hard as I could as the next jump sent another wave of agony through me.  Any thought of sex went right out the window.  It just hurt.  Another jump caused my Core Driller dildo to go shooting out of me, the Clover clamp unable to find sufficient purchase on my swollen and still quite moist clitoris.  I collapsed on the ground, after just three jumps.

I’m not sure how long I just lay there, trying to cope with the sensation.  The Core Driller was a few feet away, dirty and covered with hay and dust.  My clit was throbbing still, despite the fact that the Clover clamp had come off.  Fortunately the way I was laying caused the weights that were attached to the binder clamps on my nipples to rest on the ground, rather than continue pulling on me.  Slowly I rolled over, groaning as the weights came off the ground.  Everything hurt.  I didn’t want to do anymore.

I rolled a bit more and reached for my dildo.  One half of it was covered in a layer of grime and plucked a few strands of straw off the thing.  I thought about shoving it back in, but the idea was just too gross.  I climbed to my feet, the weights dangling, and shuffled my way across the barn.  I pushed open the back door, stepped out into the bright sunlight, and bent over by the water spigot.  A quick sluice of the dildo cleaned it and I turned off the water and went back into the barn.

Both my mind and my heart resisted when my mind told me to get on with the jumping jacks.  I sank down onto one of the hay bales, ignoring the prickling ends poking my bottom.  I spread my legs and gently, oh so gently, slid the Core Driller inward.   It took a moment.  I was still wet, but I had tightened noticeably with my antics.  Twelve inches of black rubber, widening to a good three or four inches at the base, is not something you just ram in.  At least, not when you’re already in a lot of pain.  I needed to stabilize, to build another protective shield against the agony of the jumping jacks.  And so with gentle movements I slid the Core Driller in and out, working myself steadily back toward orgasmic need.

It didn’t take very long.  I wish it had taken longer.  But when I felt sufficiently aroused I forced myself to once again clip the Clover clamp to my clit.  This time the pain combined with the pleasure and I almost lost it, orgasming right then and there.  But I held back, straightening up and then standing.  Once more the Core Driller began to slip out but the clamp and D link held this time and only four inches slid out of my pussy.  I waddled into the middle of the barn floor, prepared myself, and jumped.

I made two successful jumps.  My breasts hurt.  My clit burned.  And then on the third jump I repeated the entire escapade.  The Clover clamp just couldn’t handle the strain and with a snap my Core Driller fell out of me, gravity and my lubed interior all the enablement it needed to once more fall to the ground.  I cried out, falling to my knees, my hands at my crotch.

This wasn’t working.  Once more, after collecting myself, I grabbed the dildo, washed it off, and worked myself back into a lather.  I still hadn’t cum, but I so wanted to.  But as I approached the cliff, the shield of sexual desperation back in place, I tossed aside the clover clamp.  I reached for my pile of clothes, and drew out the one thing I KNEW would hold the damn Core Driller in place.

Putting it on hurt way more than the clover clamp did, but it held nicely.  I attached it to the D Link connected to the bottom of the Core Driller and then I stood.  Sure enough, the taut pull on my clit, combined with the weight of the dildo was more than enough to send waves of agonizing pleasure through me.  I gasped, moved my body into a straight line, then jumped.

And jumped.

And jumped again.

When I finished my ten jumping jacks I collapsed on the ground.  Tears streamed down my face and my shaking hand went down between my legs.  It took every ounce of strength left in my soul to keep from removing the alligator clamp from my clit.  I didn’t even look at it. I was scared about what I might see.  Instead I unclipped the D Link and then began to rapidly, violently even, fuck myself stupid with that dildo.  I even pressed on the bottom plug, wiggling it around as well.  There was that perfect moment when everything comes together, like a stew with separate ingredients and then I gasped, exploding in a mixture of sweet pain, drenching need, and exhausting exhilaration. 

It was ten minutes later before I even moved.  Once more I reached down between my legs, but then cursed slightly as I remembered the rubber bands.  Of course Master Barrett had insisted that the soles of my feet be tormented too.  But why AFTER I came?  It just was mean.

I reached down and snapped one and it did hurt, but I was too sore, too tired, too drained to do any more.  I climbed to my feet with a shudder and put on my clothes, taking off the damned binder clamps and heavy weights.  Sure enough the Core Driller slid partially out, held in place with my alligator clamp and I closed my eyes, blocking out the pain.  I opened the barn door and limped my way across the yard. 

To my surprise, my mom’s car was gone.  She had come out of the house while I was torturing myself?  Thank God she hadn’t heard me screaming and come to investigate!  But with ginger steps I climbed the porch and then went in the kitchen door.  I was headed to my bedroom, but as I stepped into the living room, my father glanced over at me from the computer.  He took just one look at me, shook his head, and chuckled.

“Feel good?” he asked me.  I must have looked a wreck, what with blotchy cheeks and tear streaks on my face.  I looked down at myself.  My shirt was disheveled and my nipples were hard bumps on the cotton. My skirt was half askew and I could feel the Core Driller base rubbing against my thighs.  No.  I did not feel good.  My clit was throbbing in building agony and I wanted it off.  Damn the fucking rubber bands!

I kicked off my flip flops and walked straight over to my dad.  “Ten each,” was all I said.  Then I turned around, bent over his desk, and lifted my right foot, setting it against his knee.

I didn’t hear a word from him, but I knew what was going through his mind.  My skirt was short enough that he would be easily able to see the base of the Core Driller, and perhaps even a bit more.  The rubber bands still around each foot were plainly visible.  I rested my upper body weight on my desk and then I felt his hand on my ankle.  His fingers stroked my leg, moving up until he got to the back of my thigh.  I stiffened, wondering how high he would go, but then his fingers left me.  Instead I felt my skirt move and a cool breeze blow across my bottom.  Then his hand found my foot again and I felt the rubber band pulled.

The sting hurt, at least a little, on that first snap.  The second, third, and fourth were consecutively worse.  By the time we hit five I was wriggling, trying to keep from yanking my foot away.  When he finished I wasn’t sure I’d be able to use my right foot to even walk.  He pushed it off his lap and when I lifted my left foot, he slapped his hand against my bottom.  It landed on bare skin and I knew he had moved my skirt up enough to expose me.

“No.  Turn around and sit on the desk.  Then lift your foot.”

I did as ordered.  I knew what was happening.  I couldn’t stop it.  I twisted, pushed up on my toes, and sat down in front of him.  I lifted my left leg and my skirt rose, exposing my pussy, my alligator clamped clit, the dildo, everything.  My father’s eyes widened and he started to reach for my foot, but then his eyes narrowed and he peered into the shadow between my legs.

“Are you bleeding?” he asked, his voice moving from arousal to concern.

“What?” I asked with a ragged gasp.  I looked down and lifted my skirt, exposing myself to the light.  I didn’t see anything, but then I pinched open the alligator clamp.  Flecks of red spotted my labia and I found the cut a second later.  It wasn’t gushing. It was just a tiny laceration where one of the alligator clamp teeth had sunk a little deep.  But since I had taken off the alligator clamp, the pain had hit me twice as hard, the blood seeping back into my crushed nub. 

My father seemed mollified, but slightly disturbed and refused to give me any more snaps.  He ordered me upstairs to take care of myself and I stood, once more covering up my abused loins as I limped upstairs, the Core Driller dildo in my hand.  When I got to my room, I moved to my chair.  With a sigh I propped up one leg.  Then with great patience, I put the tip of the Core Driller back to my sex and slowly worked it in.  I lifted my skirt as I sat down and felt the full twelve inches go deep.  I wiggled my hips.  The anal plug was still embedded in my ass, and there wasn’t a lot of room in there, but it still felt good.  I bounced in my chair.  The binder clamps went back on my breasts, my eyes closed as I hissed through my teeth.   In moments I was cumming, exploding with my fingers gripping the edge of the desk.

And as soon as I was done, I reached down and snapped the rubber bands.

Laundry day was tough. But you know that.  I kept the Core Driller in for the rest of the day too, except I used a pair of panties to hold it in.  The anal plug stayed in as well, keeping me stuffed with enough rubber to make me feel like some sort of plastic model.  My clit… well… that needed time to recuperate.  And of course every time I came, I had to snap those damn rubber bands. 

I didn’t tell Kari about the Alligator clamp though.  And I was healed enough by the time the Society of the Golden Rose met, but still… she may read this little tale.  And if she does… she’ll punish me.  Hard.

But that doesn’t matter.  I know what I had to do.  And I’d do it again.  As for Kari’s punishment?  Well, I’ll deserve, it won’t I?

 

Breanne will remove her Husky dildo, panties, and bra.  She will then insert her four inch bottom plug, with her choice of lubrication.  She will then insert her 12 inch Core Driller dildo. She will attach the metal retaining ring on the bottom of the dildo to her jumbo alligator clamp, which will then be placed on her clit in order to hold the Core Driller in.  If she is alone, she is to expose her breasts and place binder clamps on both nipples and after every seating, she is to place rubber bands around the arch of each foot and snap each rubber band ten times.

In order to be released, she must cum without touching herself.  Cumming is rewarded with ten rubber band snaps to each foot. Also, once she cums, she may go down to the barn and complete ten jumping jacks after attaching ½ pound weights to each nipple clamp.  Upon completion of the jumping jacks, she is to immediately masturbate, without removing any of the toys, to orgasm.  She will then apply another ten snaps of the rubber band to each foot and may THEN remove the alligator clamp from her clit.

However, Breanne must keep the Core Driller in her pussy using whatever means she chooses to retain the dildo.  She must also keep the butt plug inserted.  Lastly, if she in private, her breasts must remain clamped.

Breanne Erickson is the author of "Coming of Age - A BDSM Romance" as well as the highly controversial and five star reviewed novel "The Society of the Golden Rose."  Her series "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" is available in e-book form.  Check out her website at www.nymphohumiliationpainsluts.com!