Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Seventy - Five

I was understandably nervous when I hopped out of my pickup truck with my denim duster under my arm.  It was hot already, well into the upper eighties, with a promised ninety one coming later that afternoon.  I was dressed for the heat of course; with a pair of blue shorts and a simple tee shirt.  I was even wearing the necessary under things.  After all, I had spent the morning working around the house and out in the barn.  As my flip flops hit the gravel of the road side, I reached across the seat and as an afterthought, grabbed my high heels.  Then I shut the door and moved around to the very front of the truck.
            I’m absolutely positive, in a general sort of way, that you know what was coming.  Or is it cumming?   Me?  A stripping?  Another car?  I laid my duster down upon the warm hood of the truck and licked my lips.  Glances down the road and over my shoulder reaffirmed that I was alone, but over the years the amount of traffic on my little Farm to Market road had increased, just enough, to make my usual stripping spot something a little more daring.
            I’m sure Mistress Ellen, the domme who first introduced this endearing little ritual to me and the whole hordes of other people destined to abuse and torment me would find it amusing to know I’m squirming now.  She’d like it if I were seen, or better yet, if they stopped to offer me assistance.
            So now I strip pretty quick.  I peeled off my tee shirt, followed by my shorts, until I was standing there in just my panties and bra.  Then the bra came off, leaving my bare breasts exposed to the world, the heavy gold padlock dangling from the right nipple piercing.  I shivered once from the humiliation of the exposure, despite the unobserved state I was in, and then I pushed my panties down.  They snagged for just a moment on the Velcro harness of the Rotating Venus Penis, a pink plastic sex toy that kept a four inch rubber and plastic cock stuffed in my sex.  It was off, but that hardly mattered.  I hurriedly snapped out my duster and not a moment to soon, swung it around myself, just as a car came roaring up over the hill behind me.
            My hands clenched the front of the duster closed across my breasts as the engine noise grew louder.  I could sense the car slowing down, just a bit.  I mean who wouldn’t slow down if you saw a redhead, wearing a long coat, at the end of summer, whose lower legs were bare?  I turned my head as the car drove past and I realized that I was a more effective speeding deterrent than a cop sitting on the side of the road.  The car shot past and accelerated and I grinned, the knot in my tummy releasing.  With a deep release, I let my breath out.  As the car disappeared down the road, I slipped off my flip flops, grabbed the four inch slip on heels, and put them on my feet. 
            And since I was now along again, safely inside my duster, if not totally concealed, I tried a little experiment.  With one hand gripping the front edges of my coat, holding them closed, I lifted one foot up, bending my leg at the knee.  The shoe I was wearing had no ankle strap and so a little bend of my toes exposed the bottom sole.  I tried, very hard, to reach the arch of my foot without letting the coat open.  A few moments of experimentation told me everything I needed and I put my foot down in exasperation.  Then I headed back to the cab of the truck.
            As I got back behind the wheel the edges of my coat gaped open.  Master Dan had prohibited me securing or fastening my buttons in any way, which left me in quite a state.  I rode high enough that just about anyone glancing over at me would get a pretty awesome view of my breasts, with just enough covered to make them want more.  My sex was also on view, but it would take a trucker to see it.  Adjusting my coat did little good.  My duster isn’t exactly small, but it isn’t overly large either. As I drove off I tried to keep my thighs pressed together, but driving a stick shift is a two foot job and in the end my shaved slit saw plenty of daylight.
            There were a few honks and plenty of wide eyes, but I ignored most of it.  Focus is one of the most important aspects of being a nympho humiliation pain slut and you can’t let the little things get to you.  Of course they did anyway.  Each honk, each wide eyed stare set me a little closer to the edge.  I was already soaked and my pussy was squeezing that little four inch plastic dildo inside me.  And to think, the RVP wasn’t even on yet!  I took another shuddering deep breath and tried to still the butterflies in my stomach.
            Why was I nervous?  Oh, just wait till you read on.  You won’t believe what the assignment was, or what I was about to do.  I drove west on I-10 and kept going till I was pretty far outside of town.  My goal was a particular truck stop, not the usual one I’ve used since that one would be too busy and the parking lot isn’t right..  About fifteen minutes later I pulled in and wove my little pickup through the massive big rigs to the very back of the lot.
            A number of trucks were parked there, but no many.  Since we were west of Houston and even Katy, and due to the time of day, most truckers were still on the road.  Only a few were parked and I suspected that most of their drivers were in the restaurant eating.  That suited me just fine.  I parked behind one semi, just at the edge of the lot. Then I got out the rubber bands.
            They were rather large, tan colored, elastic loops and it didn’t take very much for me to slip off my high heels and place them around each foot, right at the soft and delicate arch.  Then my high heels went back on.  With a deep breath and my hands clenching my duster, I hopped out of the truck and closed the door.  Another quick glance around assured me that things were quite, despite the roar of the freeway just a hundred yards away.  In fact, I’d be visible from the road as well.   I turned my back to it, facing a few trees the bordered the back of the lot.
            I had stuck the remote to the RVP deep into the inside pocket of the duster and I pulled it out, flashing myself to a bunch of trees.  It was the work of a simple thumb flick to move the sliders up the controller, causing the four inch plastic cock inside me to suddenly begin spinning wildly, as well as vibrating.  The base the cock was attached to was also large enough to touch my clit and trust me, those vibrations had an immediate effect on both my sexual readiness and my mental health.
            Then I turned back around, facing the parking lot, the parked trucks, and the freeway.
            I slipped my left foot out of the high heel and brought it up so that my sole was behind me, pressed against my buttock.  Unfortunately, before I could even snap the rubber band much less grab hold of it, my flamingo like perch wobbled and I lost my balance.  My coat flapped open as my right hand was forced to swing out wide as a counterweight to the direction I started to fall, and immediately a swath of my cream colored skin, from chin to pussy, was perfectly exposed.  I put my foot back down with a cry of chagrin and immediately grasped my coat again.
            I knew that the longer I stood out here, the better the chances of being seen, so I wanted to hurry.  Master Dan’s assignment hadn’t actually specified that someone WATCH me humiliate myself while hurting the soles of my feet.  So with a quick look around, I moved to the grill of the closest semi-truck, and put my right hand out to brace myself.  And that left me in a quandary.  How do I keep my coat clenched closed if one hand is bracing to keep me from falling over, while the other is snapping the rubber bands.  Would you believe I didn’t even realize until that moment just what Master Dan had ordered me to do?
            If only I had three hands.  I wasted precious seconds, maybe even minutes, struggling with the choice.  And with the clock ticking, all I could think of to do was to let my coat go.  Just through body movement I tried to keep the front edges as close as possible, I bent my leg, brought my foot up, and grabbed the elastic band.
            The sting was negligible and I put my foot down.  Then I twisted, put my other hand on the truck grill, lifted the right foot, and snapped the second rubber band.  Again a light sting sent a spark of sensation up my leg that would rival even a political shiver and I twisted again, changing my position in order to repeat the process on my left foot.
            I alternated back and forth as required by the assignment and the fact is that by the time I hit the ten snap mark on both feet I didn’t really care that my back and forth movements were causing the front of my coat to flap loosely, both breasts hanging out, all while the RVP danced and whirled at the cleft of my sex.  I was so horny, so wet, so desperate that I was having trouble standing.  The soles of my feet stung and I still had forty snaps to go on each foot!
            The struggle was impressive and I managed to make it to sixteen before my pussy gave out, responding to the incessant sexual impulse caused by the Rotating Venus Penis.  I cried out in ecstasy, shuddering with exquisite pleasure as the orgasm rocked my world.  Thank God the truck was there because if it hadn’t been I’d have fallen to the ground in a twitchy pile of girl goo.
            I wish I could start this next paragraph with “when things calmed down,” but the truth is that they didn’t.  Sure, I exploded and there was the typical moment of sexual euphoria, my brain flooded with adrenaline and endorphins and a soup of pleasure causing hormones, but the truth is that I left the RVP on high, still buzzing and spinning between my legs.  My coat was still wide open now and only in the smallest corner of my brain had I managed to keep from concealing myself against the grill of the truck. My body was smarting from the rubber band snaps, the exposure, the constant stimulation of my clitoris and sex, and then there was the man standing twenty feet away, eyes wide, mouth open in astonishment, looking at me shudder through the obvious end of my orgasm.
            I immediately felt two things; the heat of my humiliated blush, and a secondary rush of sexual urgency, totally unrelated to the RVP, that flooded my depths with another wetness that almost, but not quite, could have qualified as a second orgasm. I drew in a shaky breath, eyes open and staring as I let go of the truck and quickly clenched my duster closed.
            “Am I interrupting something?” the man asked.  He was in his early forties, thinning on top, and dressed in jeans and a tee shirt.  He wasn’t thin, but wasn’t fat either, and only had a few extra pounds on his middle that told me he liked his beer.  Or maybe not.  He was clutching a cold bottle of diet soda in his right hand. 
            I shook my head violently.  “No, I’m sorry!” I said hoarsely.  My voice was fine but I lacked control.  You try carrying on a conversation when you’re recovering from an immediate orgasm and are well on your way to a second one, while trying to keep your coat closed.
            “Are you sure?  Looks like you were having fun there,” he said.
            I shuddered again.  “No please.  I’m fine!  Really,” which didn’t seem to go so well since my hips started thrusting forward of their own volition, clearly fucking the four inch plastic cock inside me.  The trucker might not have KNOWN about my sex toy, but my movements were obvious.
            “Are you… um… selling?” he asked suspiciously.
            My eyes widened.  “What?  No!” I said forcefully, my hands still clenching the front of my duster closed.
            He crossed his arms.  “Okay.  So what is it you’re doing?”  He shifted his weight and as my body language told him I was in the throes of sexual chaos, his told me that he planned to stay right there and watch until I answered him, and probably a lot longer.
            The heat in my face increased and I realized that I was going to have to tell him.
            “I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut and I’m being punished,” I said quickly, in a rush of breath.
            He blinked. “Excuse me?”
            “I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut and I’m being punished!” I said again, this time louder.  I’m not positive, but I think maybe the RVP was overloading a few of my higher brain functions.
            “You’re being punished?” he asked, looking around.
            I nodded.  “Yes sir. I’m supposed to stand here and snap these rubber bands on my feet.”  I pointed down to my toes and he took a step forward, eyes narrowing as he peered down at my high heels.
            I swallowed, looked up, and met his gaze.  Evidently that was enough for him because he went right back to his previous position of polite waiting.  He was there for the show.
            I almost cried.
            But then my pussy clenched again and I realized this was exactly what Master Dan had wanted to happen. It was why I was in a parking lot.  So I took a deep breath, let my coat go, braced myself once again, and lifted my foot.  I focused on the snap, rather than on the trucker’s face, which was an amazed, wide-eyed, lip licking stare.  Had I not already been dealing with the penetration and movements of the RVP, I know I would have felt that eye-fuck like a physical penetration.  I wasn’t positive, but I thought I could see a bulge forming in the front of his pants.  I have that effect on some people.

        d directly to your clit. Enjoy! – Master 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!


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