“Well, this should certainly be interesting,” Kari said as I looked down at the machine. We were standing in her dungeon, both of us dressed in our usual attire. For Kari, that meant black, skin tight leather pants accompanied by a black leather vest that conformed to her bosom and waist. I’ve always loved that outfit on her. It’s sexy, sleek, and just screams “dominatrix.” I on the other hand, was wearing an expensive set of bondage cuffs on my wrists and ankles, as well as the thick leather collar that matched. My outfit screamed only one thing and it screamed it loud and clear.
I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut.
I suppose I don’t mind really, because I happen to be a nympho humiliation pain slut, but the accompanying outfit can sometimes be a bit drafty. Fortunately, Kari keeps the temperature in her apartment at a balmy seventy eight degrees, which most people would think a little warm. You have to take into consideration the fact that most of the other people who hang around Kari’s place, do so naked.
Like Robert. He was naked. And bound and gagged on the other side of the dungeon. As Kari’s permanent live in boy toy and sexual submissive, he spent practically the whole day, every day, wearing his birthday suit. This was often accompanied by a cock harness of some sort, but I liked the fact that he wandered around the condo in as much sexual desperation as I did. Of course while he wore a harness that invariably kept him aroused and unable to either touch himself or relieve the pressure, I had to follow nympho humiliation pain slut rule number one, a tender little regulation that required me to keep either cock, or a sex toy of some sort, stuffed inside myself at all times. You can just imagine the fun Kari has with that rule.
But at that particular time, standing in Kari’s dungeon, I was empty and had been for about two minutes. I had been wearing the triple vibroballs all morning, at various levels of vibration, in preparation for this particular evening. Or perhaps it was just to torment me. I hadn’t cum in over a week thanks to the normal processes that happen to a woman, so I was on edge. Literally. I bit my lip, looking down at the machine.
You’re probably familiar with it if you’ve been reading my “Tales.” It was the center piece of a little story called “Full Bore” and consists of a steel ring that used to be a stool. The legs were shortened, the seat removed and then a sexually evil genius added what he called a “variable speed electric motor” and some gears. These gears were attached to two rods which were mounted so that the crankshaft would literally cause them to move up and down by about seven inches. Even more interesting was the fact that at the end of both of those rods, were mounted two dildos, one narrow and about five inches long, while the other one was a dark black monster that measured a full seven inches.
Hell. I’m surprised they didn’t vibrate too.
I bent down with the bottle Kari handed me. It was Stinging O, an oily concoction of my own devising that was two parts grape seed oil and much smaller parts cinnamon and pepper oil. While providing slippery movement, it also irritated the sensitive flesh, in effect both cooling me and heating me up. Think of a lighter version of Icy Hot, except if used internally won’t kill you. I felt the tingle on my fingertips as I thoroughly coated both phallic probes and then, as per Kari’s orders, wiped the remnants of the oil onto both nipples. Instantly the tips of my breasts started to tingle and harden and I straightened and looked up at her.
“Well don’t just stand there,” she said with a grin. “Sit down.” She pointed at the dildos and I swallowed. I looked over at Robert who was staring at me. He had to be uncomfortable, strapped like that to the St. Andrew’s Cross. His cock was locked in this strange steel and leather device that Kari had bought from some catalog and I’m absolutely positive that it prevented him from getting a hard on. Or it would try to. Maybe he’d be hurting more than me.
Turning the appropriate direction, I straddled the stool and slowly lowered myself down. I felt as if an entire swarm of butterflies were in my tummy and I was positive I was trembling. I closed my eyes as I felt the seven inch dildo graze my labia and a judicious swinging of my hips slid the pre-lubricated phallus through my slit nicely. That first touch felt good, but I was dreading the eminent penetration of my ass, not to mention the chemical intensity of the Stinging O. I slipped down an inch, then a bit more, and felt the gently tapered tip of the anal probe at my rear. Just as I started to work it in, sliding deeper down, the cool tingle of the cinnamon oil hit my pussy. It caused me to clench, which tightened things up in my ass. A distinct discomfort that could almost be called pain rolled up through me, but I took a deep breath, mastered that disquieting ache in my ass.
I sank lower as my legs began tiring from my squatting position and Kari watched in amusement as I attempted to prevent my rapid impalement on the double dildos. Within a minute however my thighs and buttocks were resting on the ring of the stool and I was deeply and thoroughly stuffed, with the full length of both dildos deep inside me. The moment I seemed settled, Kari moved into action. My arms were lifted over my head and attached to the chain dangling from the ceiling. My ankles were tugged upward, putting all my weight on the dildos and the stool rim. The ankle cuffs were locked with binder clips to metal rings on the stool frame. Velcro straps went around my thighs and calves. And then, while she was down there, Kari turned the motor on to its lowest setting.
Kari keeps one of those twist dial kitchen timers in her dungeon. It looks decidedly out of place, as if some cook had a demented streak they never want you seeing. Actually, it’s kind of funny, since Kari can’t cook. Hell, microwaving popcorn is a challenge for her. Want to know how she stays thin? Guess. Of course, she and Robert eat out all the time too. I’m guessing four or five nights a week. And she doesn’t even eat healthy! I’ve always been jealous of her for that. Me? I’m thin, but that comes from working seven days a week on a farm and living with your parents who don’t exactly go and stock up on ding dongs every few days at the grocery store. And I don’t exactly get a paycheck either, so it’s not like I go out all the time. So I stay thin through a combination of hard work and starving. Hey, it works. Anyway, the timer was set for five minutes.
The vaginal dildo almost slid out of my sex and started its upward return before the anal probe descended. I’ve never asked how Mike the Hardware guy managed to make it so you could start full impaled, mostly because I’m sure it’s complicated, but I have to admit, it does make it easier. The thrust and withdrawal was agonizingly slow. I’d say maybe two thrusts every ten seconds. So… that would make it twelve thrusts a minute? Of course, actually it’s twenty four thrusts, because one dildo would drive up into my sex, and then the anal probe would do the same thing. So you can understand my sexual frustration. It was slow agony.
While I was enduring snail sex, Kari was busy. She had rolled her little metal cart over and was fidgeting with the TENS Unit. For those still not in the know, this device is a transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulator. It does one thing. Shock you. Doctors and therapists use it to stimulate muscles and work out kinks and stuff. Kari uses it to stimulate certain parts of my body (and occasionally Robert’s!) It can also be used to punish a slave girl, depending on the settings. It’s actually pretty cool. See, you can set the pace, or number of times someone gets a jolt, and you can set the intensity of the jolt.
Kari is an expert at the TENS Unit and without a word she set about plugging the damn thing in. Black and red wires were jacked into little holes on the front and then Kari took great pleasure in attaching the wired clamps to my nipples. The clamps were an addition. Doctors don’t usually clamp their patients while using a TENS Unit. Nor do they clamp the tips of their patients breasts.
Unless their patient is me. But that’s another story for another time.
Kari tightened the pressure clamps just enough to ensure that they weren’t going to fall off. I jiggled a little bit and sure enough, they were stuck. Then Kari pulled out one of her newer toys, a toy I knew she had bought just for me. It was a little suction vial, with the needed electrodes to attach to the TENS unit inside the vial. Her finger touched my clit, rubbing some of the Stinging O and my secretions over the tender nub that was already swollen and sticking out. She placed the vial over my clit and using one of those ball squeezy things, she sucked the air out of the vial and created a vacuum. My clit was pulled into the glass and came in direct contact with both electrodes. Having my clit sucked into a glass vial wasn’t uncomfortable actually. It felt good. Arousing even. But my brain KNEW what was coming and that just made me even MORE aroused.
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.