Thursday, September 27, 2012

BDSM Bedtime Stories - Society of the Golden Rose


If you happen to be a fan of Breanne Erickson, there is a special treat in store for you.  BookAddict, from the BDSM Review Blog "La Crimson Femme," who also happens to moderate the BDSM Group on Goodreads, has recorded a phenomenal excerpt from "Society of the Golden Rose."  Eat your heart out!





Friday, September 21, 2012

Spanked Stupid



Courtesy of hyperknight07!


       
 
  “Okay, all you need to do is to press this button and then adjust this dial,” Mike the Hardware Guy said to me.  I peered down at the awkward looking contraption without much in the way of appreciation.  It wasn’t like he had invented the latest alternative to the iPhone.  It wasn’t a new energy efficient car engine that got three hundred miles to the gallon.  It was something infinitely worse.
            I reached out and pressed the button and immediately the motor began turning.  It was a tiny motor, electric and it was mounted on top of a steel bar that slid into a hollow pipe, which in turn was welded to a thick steel base.  Quite pretty actually.  Of course my eyes were a little more focused on what the motor was turning.  There was a wooden spoke spinning near my navel and I tracked the lazy circle the thick tongue of flexible leather made as it spun around.
            For laughs, I held out my palm, intercepting that tongue and the soft pliable material impacted into my hand lightly.  It wasn’t much of a spank.  I had barely felt it.  Granted, I got it on the upstroke, but after all, the force imparted by the wheel shouldn’t be different on the opposite side right?  I glanced at Mike and then shrugged.
            “Okay, I’m game,” I replied nonchalantly.  Mike grinned and turned off the motor.  The leather tongue swished around in a few more unpowered circles and then came to a rest pointing downward.
            “Well, it was exactly what Master Dan requested,” he commented.
            I gave him a tiny frown.  “I’m aware of that.”
            Mike pointed at the coffee table.  “So why the grumpy attitude?” he asked while I sat my bare bottom down on the thick wooden platform in front of me.  I laid back and looked up at him as he positioned his new device down between my knees. 
            “Because if this thing works you’re about to make four more of them?  And then I get to spend how long strapped to the iBench?” I asked. 
            Mike shrugged.  “Your problem, not mine.”  He adjusted the height of the pole and stretched out the leather tongue, making sure that it was close enough.  I twitched a little.  “Do you need to be tied down?” he asked.
            I nodded.  “It would probably be a good idea.  Besides, being tied up turns me on.”
            “I don’t think you being turned on is the idea here,” he said but then pushed my knees even farther apart and grabbed a nearby skein of rope.  I felt his fingers loop the hemp around my ankles and then bind my legs wide apart so that my sex was spread wide open. 
            “Hands above your head girl,” Mike said. 
            I complied, staring up at the whirling ceiling fan and felt him quickly use the loose end of the rope and tie my wrists together.  When he stood back up I was immobilized, bound to his coffee table like a delectable centerpiece.  He came back around to my lower half and touched my clit.  With gentle round circles of his thumb, he sent shivers through me.
“Um…I guess I should mention that yesterday I was supposed to edge four times and not cum,” I said as he ran his hands down my body.  I shivered dutifully.
            “And did you?” he asked.
            I nodded. “Accidentally.  Master Dan said I’m to tell you to make it hurt as long and as hard as possible.”
            Mike the Hardware Guy stopped and began tweaking my nipples, his fingers tightening around each little nub, though admittedly his actions at my right breast were more twisting movements thanks to the piercing and padlock that hung there.  As he twisted, his eyes narrowed.  “And after you accidentally came the first time, did you merely edge again, or did you masturbate to orgasm?”
            Still wincing, I licked my lips and managed to look sheepish.  “I came three more times?” I confessed.
            “Hard and long huh?
            I nodded as he moved his hand down to my clit.  He rubbed it lightly and the pain turned into something akin to having a new car, chocolate, and a massage, all at the same time.  What can I say?  I’m easy to please.
            “Feel good?” he asked softly as the waves of pleasure slid up my nervous system.  I moaned.
            “Good.  Here we go.”  His hand left my clit, giving me just a moment of desperate disappointment, but it didn’t last very long.  I barely heard the motor, but the first slow stroke of the leather against my clit, slipping down my labia, was certainly something I noticed.  It didn’t hurt, but it was a firm pat, and it literally caused my hips to lift and present myself for further blows.
            Which dutifully came.  The motor picked up just a little more speed, steadying at one full rotation every second or so.  The next stroke fell a little more firmly and I pulled against my bonds, my mouth opening in delighted discomfort.  The lashing didn’t hurt.  It merely accentuated everything I was feeling.  My God, it was incredible.  Imagine steady, light pats of someone’s hand on your sex, or your bottom.  Except so steady, so regular, that your heartbeat pumps in time with it.  I writhed on Mike’s coffee table and accepted my torment so willingly, so readily, my ass coming up off the wood and then slipping back down as I rolled my hips, that I appeared voracious.
            I’ve rarely felt a torment such as this do so much for me.  But being bound on my back, my legs spread wide, getting the most perfect pussy whipping ever, was so amazing for me that I think I came in about three minutes.  I screeched out my orgasm and Mike watched, sitting on the couch, his hard cock out and in his hand.  I shivered in delighted ecstasy for a few more moments as the hormonal cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins blew through my brain.  But then, as my physical high started to collapse, the steady beat of the damp leather against my clit changed slightly.
            It became heavier, more intrusive.  Mike hadn’t touched the settings, nor had he moved from his position on the couch.  I started squirming, twisting my hips, trying to move out from under the falling belt.  I heard the wet pop of the leather tongue slapping into my flesh, smashing my clit downward, dragging along my labia.  If I lifted up, the blow not only caught my clitoris, but also my petals.  If I was flat, then my mons and clit were center target.  My chest started heaving, my breasts rising and falling as my body began its first reaction to the torture. 
            Yes, it was torture.  Sure the blows weren’t hard enough to hurt.  But like Chinese Water Torment, each drop isn’t a hammer stroke either.  Try getting it on your sex.
            Within a few moments I was having issues.  My entire body was trying to get away from the steady pounding being delivered between my legs.  Never mind that the machine was hitting me at the same pace, the same force, as when we started.  It FELT different, stronger, more intense.  Or was it just me? 
            I turned my head toward Mike.  “Please! Please turn it off!” I begged him.



    

This tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but can be found in Breanne Erickson's book "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Vol. 7"  Click here to check out our sample page and take a look at the amazing work of Breanne Erickson!

 

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

It's Here! Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 6!


Michael Alexander is pleased to announce the release of Breanne Erickson's latest novel, "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume #6, the latest book in her NHPS Series.  Follow Breanne as she takes you on the adventure of a lifetime, enduring humiliating and frequently painful assignments as she attempts to find the ultimate release - multiple times!

Tales Vol. 6 has several never before seen tales to delight and captivate even Breanne's most hardcore fans.  Available in e-book format, Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Vol. 6 can be purchased at both Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.com!

Get yours today!


Friday, September 14, 2012

In Need of A Rule of Stipulation



           
            Back in the days while I was in college, I used to spend a lot of time on the computer.  I was young, stupid, and if you’ve read “Coming of Age” you know all about my bad habits.  I was a cyber-sex addict, doing incredibly insane stuff with a microphone at my ear and a webcam showing me from the neck down.  I’d sit a few feet back from the monitor and camera so that everyone could see me properly and then I’d do….
            Well, maybe we shouldn’t get into that.  Why spoil the surprise, right?
            One of the very first things I established back then when I was an internet junkie was my personal rule.  It was posted to my profile page and it was very explicit.  “Every girl chatting on the internet should be stuffed with some sort of sex toy, preferably one that is vibrating, to keep her in the right mood while engaging in social intercourse.”  Or something like that.  If you are familiar with NHPS Rule #1, then you can see the archeological bones of my current rule.  Back then, my most common toy to keep inside me was a vibrator, though once I got my double vibroballs, I wore those a lot too. 
            I never just put on a show though.  That wasn’t my gig.  I liked challenge, of teasing the men who sought me ought.  One of my favorite things to do was challenge my various online friends to a game of digital pool.  I was pretty good at it and for the most part, made things very difficult for those who sought me out and wanted to make a bet.
            A bet?  Yes.  Absolutely.  Every game, or every set of games, had to have a bet.  I remember betting my clothes in exchange for a poem praising me as a sex goddess.  I bet putting clothespins on my nipples against getting to verbally order my opposite through a masturbation session.  I would bet doing all sorts of self-torture in exchange for… well… now that I think about it, I might have deliberately lost a few times.
            But eventually, just taking off my clothes or conducting an online webcam self-torture masturbation session wasn’t enough for me.  Or maybe it was a day when a friend wanted to play pool, but I didn’t have enough time to satisfy him.  So instead, I laid out a bet that was a little beyond anything I’d ever done before.
            “Okay, Kyle.  I’ll up the ante.  If you win, not only do you get a masturbation session, but I will give you a Right of Stipulation,” I said.
            Kyle’s typing came across the screen.  “What’s a right of stipulation?”
            “Simple.  If you win, from now on, I will follow a single stipulation for all of our conversations and games from here on in.”
            “A stipulation?”
           I nodded, grinning. “Sure.  For example, you can stipulate that I have to have clothespins on my nipples, or one on my clit, or even all three.  Or you can state that every time we converse the vibrator inside me has to be on full, regardless of the game we’re playing.”
            “What about an anal plug?”
            I winced, but nodded again. “Yes.”
            “Breast bondage?”
            I rolled my eyes.  “Troublesome, but yes.”
            “Hot wax?” he asked.
            “YES.”
            “So you mean that even if we play a new game of pool, you have to start off with this stipulation?”
            “Yes.”
            The silence was golden, but then he was more than willing. 
            “All right, then the stipulation I want is clothespins.  The moment we start our conversation you will put a single clothespin on each nipple and your clit.”
            I can’t believe I lost that game.
            Kyle reveled in the new stipulation rule and tried to get me to bet another stipulation, mostly by offering to let me out of the current stipulation.  In the end, I lost again, mostly because I was already so distracted by the fact that I was trying to play online pool with a vibrator buzzing inside me, already clamped on my breasts and sex.  You try winning games like that!  But it still set a precedent and made it even more apparent that pain turned me on.
            It’s years later and this morning I got this email from Master Dan:


Dear Breanne,

  This isn't actually an assignment but instead a suggestion to Kari about a new routine for you. I enjoyed reading about the time you were ordered to sit on your prism and snap your feet with you cumming from the pain alone. However when reading about you using the computer for sexual use a couple of times (answering emails or chatting with doms), when you get ordered to hurt yourself immediately I've had a thought that has been bugging me.

 "Why isn't she already in pain during these sexual interactions since it would just turn her on more?"

  As such I feel that when you are using the computer for sexual purposes (including checking your emails and chatting with your online doms), and while you are capable of following NHPS rule #1, you should be in some form of sexual pain. Be it from clamps, spanking your clit, sitting on your prism, something else, or a combination of things. This should not be enough pain that it would cause you to rush or cut the time you would use the computer otherwise, however if you were only going to be on for a minute anyways it might as well be intense.

Looking forward to talking to you while you are even more turned on.
Love,
Dan

This tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but can be found in Breanne Erickson's book "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Vol. 7"  Click here to check out our sample page and take a look at the amazing work of Breanne Erickson!

 

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Squatting Tough

Hi everyone! I'm guessing by now that everyone has wondered if I were still alive and kicking!  The truth is that YES, I'm still alive.  And YES, I'm still kicking!  Things have been really hectic for me lately.  First there was the normal stuff to do - and I'm not talking about normal sex stuff.  I'm talking about real life CHORE stuff.  You know, laundry, cooking, cleaning, farming.  That sort of stuff.  But I've also been knee-deep in getting Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 6 ready to go!  Michael and I have been working really hard with our awesome proofreader Wanda to get it cleaned up and I've been having to rewrite a few things to make them "smoother" or something. 

But I've also had a few more incredible assignments, some of which you'll get to read in Tales 6!  Isn't that cool?  Now Tales will have some Tales no one has ever READ before!  That said, I didn't want any of you to go into withdrawal.  So here's some of the latest fun! - Bre


It’s not every day that you walk into a room to find an eleven inch anal dildo on a stick.  But sure enough, there it was.  Solid black, ribbed, and shaped like an inverted ice cream cone, it pointed skyward like the obscene point of a spear.  Swallowing, I stepped up to it.  It wasn’t that high off the ground.  There was some sort of metal stand,  a plate if you will, that spanned several feet in every direction.  This in turn was mounted to a wooden platform.  My eyes went over the workmanship.  As usual, it was fantastic.  The metal was smooth and painted, with even the welding minimal.  Each corner sported metal eye hooks and I couldn’t even imagine what those were for.
            “Do you like it?” Mike, the Hardware Guy, asked politely from behind me.  I felt his hand on my bare rump as I glanced around his garage.  It was warm, but not terrible thanks to the cooler fall weather, but I couldn’t help a shiver. 
            “It’s uh… it’s a dildo,” I said, motioning toward it.  
            Mike laughed.  “Yes.  It is.  But this one is adjustable.”
            I gave him a skeptical look.  “It gets smaller?” I asked hopefully.
            He let out another chuckle and stepped around me, his fingers crossing my hip.  He went to the post the dildo was mounted on and with a quick twist of his fingers on some tiny fastening, the post dropped downward until the dildo was only a foot or so off the ground.
            “Oh look.  You made a sex toy for midgets,” I said sweetly, with an underlying tone of sarcasm. 
            Mike is somewhat used to my acerbic commentary, but it really didn’t matter much.  When you’re standing there naked in front of a man whose hobby it is to create devices designed to hurt and torment you, there really isn’t anything you can say or do to dissuade him.  Besides, if you LIKE being hurt and tormented too, why would you?  Usually my snide remarks earns me punishments.  And who am I to resist that?  Geese, you’d think these people would realize that I LIKE what they do to me for punishment.  If they REALLY wanted me to stop being snarky, they’d keep me from masturbating or cumming or having sex for a week or two.  And wouldn’t THAT suck?
            Mike stood back up and grabbed a skein of rope from his work bench.  My wrists were already encircled with the black leather bondage cuffs that matched the ones on my ankles, but Mike quickly threaded the rope through the metal loops and brought my wrists together, behind my back.  I didn’t fight him, allowing him to wrap the nylon line up my arms, around my elbows, tightening the whole thing until my shoulders were pulled uncomfortably backward. 
            “Ugggghh,” I grunted when he tucked the end of the line through my arms and pulled it even tighter.  The strain was difficult, but not unbearable and as I turned, Mike’s hands slid across my front, caressing my breasts, both of which were now sticking out, presented perfectly, thanks to the bondage.



      

This tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but can be found in Breanne Erickson's book "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Vol. 7"  Click here to check out our sample page and take a look at the amazing work of Breanne Erickson!