Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Limited Masturbation
I stood there glancing at my
watch. It had beeped just a moment
before, reminding me quite firmly that it was time. I glanced around. The barn was quiet and while I still hadn’t
finished my morning rounds, there wasn’t anything likely to disturb me. At least, not yet.
I was wearing a long broomstick
skirt, the kind that is supposed to be wrinkled and fashionable but doesn’t
really rank really high on the “sexy” scale.
But that’s okay. I wasn’t wearing it to be sexy. I was wearing it
because jeans would have been a pain in the ass and I wasn’t about to do my
morning rounds wearing a skimpy mini-skirt.
Fifty degree weather and bare legs do not mix well.
I sighed. Every hour, on the hour Kari had said. Well, if that’s what she wanted, that’s what
I would do. I’m a good girl. Well – okay, so I’m NOT a good girl. I’m a bad girl who does some good things, and
a lot of bad things. And so I sat down
on a nearby bale of hay, lifted my skirt, spread my legs, and let absolutely no
one see my black lace panties.
Actually, it was nice to be wearing
them. Panties I mean. So often I’m denied that one simple pleasure,
and trust me; wearing panties is actually a nice thing. It provides a sense of security, of comfort,
or in my case, they held in a nine inch, flesh colored, rubber dildo.
Had anyone been there to look, they
at first would have been curious. After all, it’s not often you see a woman
with a pair of balls. But my Husky dildo
comes with a set. Granted, they’ve been
cut in half, which I’m sure will make most men flinch, but it’s for a good
cause. It gives the base of the dildo a
decent width and lets it stand up on its own.
While that makes little difference to me when I’ve got the Husky stuffed
up inside, putting it on a chair or sitting on it is a lot easier.
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!
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Tolerance
Tolerance is a tough thing to
define. And I don’t mean the word itself
because that’s easy. We just have to
open a dictionary. No, I mean personal
tolerance, the limits one can endure, the very power of resistance. And yesterday I found out where mine
was.
As a Nympho
Humiliation Pain Slut (NHPS), I’m quite familiar with the concept of keeping a
sex toy purring deep inside me. It’s a
favorite daily requirement. Rule #1 is
that all NHPS’s stay wet and ready by keeping either cock, or some other object
stuffed in her sex. I’ve had dildos, ben
wa balls, vibrators, monster cocks, inflatables, and all sorts of things up
there, on a daily, rotating basis. Just so I don’t get accustomed to them!
One of my
personal favorites, the one I have a love/hate relationship with, is my triple
vibroballs. Three quail egg sized plastic
vibrators, each on a wire leash leading to a control box, can generate all
sorts of sensations. You could tape one “bullet”
to each nipple and leave one to nestle in her folds. You could have one up her ass and two in her
pussy. Or heck, you could just have her put all of them in that deep, warm love
nest you like so much and watch her squirm.
Which is
exactly where I was at that point. Kari
had mandated that I wear the triple vibroballs, all three of which needed to be
inside me, up front, buzzing away. To be
honest, I’m so used to the vibroballs that on their lowest setting I don’t get
more than a light buzz. I get turned on,
sort of tweak my sexual nature. It’s
easy to see. My hips sway. My feet cross at the ankles. I move with
fluid grace. I look hungry for practically anyone I see. That sort of thing. I spent the first hour of the day like that,
getting dressed, going outside, working on my chores, feeding critters.
Remember, I
work on a farm?
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!
Monday, November 12, 2012
In My Mouth
“Are you
sure you want to do this?” he asked me.
I
grinned. “Well, I’ve never done anything
like it before. Have you?”
He gave me
that look. “Hardly.”
“Well then,
what are you complaining for? I’d think you’d love the opportunity!”
He stood
there in his naked glory, his cock bobbing slightly up and down. I patted the bed I was kneeling on, smiling
hungrily. Finally he sighed, shrugged,
and climbed up with me on the mattress.
Our skin
touched and it was electrifying. I wasn’t
wearing anything either and his fingers slid across my breasts, finding the
gold padlock dangling from my right nipple.
He twisted it lightly, sending sparks of intense sensation up through
me. I was already aroused of
course. The triple vibroballs purring
inside me, on their medium setting, was more than enough to make me wet, ready,
and desperate. But I knew that release
was NOT in the works.
He lay
down, his blond hair settling into the pillow.
Slowly I swung my legs up until my ankles were at his shoulders. I lifted up, crawling over him until our
bodies merged and then his cock poked me in the cheek. I felt his tongue on my thigh and knew he was
going to torment me, perhaps even allow me to orgasm. I could only hope. But that wasn’t my concern. My concern was the thick member in front of
me. I opened my mouth and took him in.
He smelled
like soap and I swirled my tongue around the tip with ever increasing
speed. I bobbed my head. I stroked his balls. I blew air down the sides of his shaft. I sucked him.
Ever so gently, ever so perfectly, I worked him until I felt him
stiffen. I too was nearing orgasm, which
was just as wonderful, his tongue stabbing at my clit. But he beat me to it. I felt the spasms against my throat and then
his shaft jerked once, twice, and a hot stream of white cum shot into my
mouth. It was all I could do to get it
down, swallowing.
And then,
with his cock still in my mouth, we rolled to the side. I felt his mouth move away from my clit and I
suppressed the sob of demanding desire that rolled through me. Instead I continued to suck, his softening
shaft seeming to melt, to shrink in my mouth.
I had to
grab his hip and move the pillow we had stuck down under the sheets. It took me a moment to get comfortable. And I still had his cock in my mouth. It had softened to almost nothing, but I
could tell that he was almost asleep.
That was why we had chosen to do this so late. He usually fell asleep after sex.
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!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
A Perfect Sacrifice
It was early Saturday afternoon
when I pulled my truck up into the gravel parking lot of the fraternity
house. The air was warm, yet mornings
and evenings had a brisk coolness to them.
The humidity was high and I was already uncomfortable. Not to mention a little nervous. Admittedly, it wasn’t my first time to the
fraternity house, or even my second or third. In fact, now that I think about
it, I’m starting to really get familiar with the place, which is just
disturbing.
It was decorated for Halloween,
which is hilarious since they weren’t planning on having a Halloween Party
until October 17th and then everything kind of fell into place. Then it exploded into ridiculousness. Now the place sported a macabre tableau of
zombies, skeletons, spider webs and other assorted monsters and mayhem, mostly
scattered in the yard. Someone had dug
up the front lawn and half buried a coffin.
And was that a mostly naked blow up doll with red hair being raped in
the bushes by two vampires?
I didn’t want to look. I just rolled my eyes. I headed toward the front door and rapped on
it loudly. I could hear the bustle
inside, including the noise of loud music, and the door opened with one of the
freshman newbies standing in the walkway.
“Look! The party isn’t until…” his voice died off as
he saw me.
“Hi!” I
said with a slight smile.
“Um…
sorry. I didn’t realize it was
you.” He paused and looked me over.
“I’ve never seen you so…um… um…”
“Dressed?”
I supplied. I was wearing a tee shirt,
and not one of my naughty ones, a button-up over shirt, blue jeans, and cowboy
boots.
He nodded.
“Um… yeah.”
I smiled
again. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure I’ll be naked soon,” I assured him. “But right now I need some guys to help me
get some stuff out of the truck.”
He
blinked. “Oh! Sure.
Let me grab a few guys.”
“And tell
Zach I’m here.”
“Right,” he
said. The he muttered “wish I had won
the lotto,” which made no sense. He
disappeared into the common room to my left.
I took a moment to look around.
Fake spider webs had been woven through the stairwell on my right and
the hall looked like a fourth grade teacher decorating for Halloween had been
through it. Definitely a different look
than what was outside. I took another
few steps into the house and looked into the common room. It was massive of course, since it was
designed to hold at least sixty or seventy people, but now it looked like a
combination cave and rave, all in one.
The entire place resembled the set to Michael Jackson’s Thriller and
there was already a heavy thumping bass playing on the sound system as the guys
worked. A massive buffet table was set
up along one wall, though only a few items were already out. There was a beer table as well along the
opposite wall. Smart men never put the
drinks near the food.
And then
there was the pool table, or at least what used to be the pool table. It had been covered in a heavy sheet of
plywood and God only knows what else, and now resembled something like a stone
altar. A BIG stone altar. It kind of disturbed me. There were blood grooves in the thing and
massive steel eyebolts in the corners.
There were even thick leather bondage cuffs. Someone had even shortened the chains that
held the light so that there was more room under the damn thing. Then I felt a touch on my shoulder.
“Hey Bre,”
a familiar voice said to me. I turned
and saw Zach. With a smile I reached out
and hugged him.
“Hi,
Zach. Everything looks good,” I said
motioning around to the room.
He
laughed. “Well you’re responsible. We weren’t going to do a party, but after
your offer, well… we couldn’t resist.”
I nodded,
my voice catching in my throat. I didn’t want to be reminded about my offer,
though I knew I’d be facing it sooner, rather than later.
The newbie
showed back up, along with three other guys.
“Breanne? We can get that stuff
out of your car now.”
Zach nodded
at the fish. “Great. Val, you go help
Breanne. Send her up to my room once
ya’ll are finished with her stuff.”
Val
nodded. “Gotcha.”
We started
to walk toward the door when Zach called out after us. “And Val, don’t let her back into the
fraternity house unless she’s naked.”
You should
have seen the kid’s face. His eyes
widened and then he grinned as if he was a mouse and I was a huge block of gouda. I glared at Zach, but then gave the poor kid
a smile. How old was he? 18? I
wasn’t quite ten years older but I still felt like a cradle robber. I let out an exasperated breath and strolled
right past Val and his cadre of helpers.
Back outside
at my truck I gave three of them heavy metal stands. Val got to carry the bag of metal
wheels. Yes. I said that right;
wheels. Don’t worry, you’ll understand
in just a moment. So with everything
unloaded I followed the guys back to the front door.
“Just take
them to the altar you guys built,” I ordered.
As I stepped into the doorway, Val paused, turned and faced me.
“Sorry,
Bre… but…” he said, his face flushing.
I gave him
an “oh really?” sort of look.
“I’m the
one who knows how to put these things together,” I said sternly.
Val
grinned. “We won’t mind you doing it naked,” he replied.
I rolled my
eyes. There was no way out of it. So I started unbuttoning my shirt. I did let
the door close behind me though. Why
give a show to the street too? Of
course, the moment the word got out I had a crowd standing in the hallway and
on the stairs watching. The heavy beat
of the base drum still pounded from God only knows what music. But it was enough for me to do a little
dance, a strip tease as it were. The
guys hooted and hollered and when I peeled off my shirt there were cat
calls. My jeans went next and then I was
standing there in a bra and panties. I
wiggled. I squirmed. I swayed. Then I took off my bra, facing the door. When I whirled back around my hands covered
my breasts, my bra dangling from my fingers. I flung it out into the
crowd. I never got it back either, which
sucks!
But then I
turned back to the door and made a show of taking off my panties. The whistles and cheers got louder and then I
slid them down my ass, presenting my rear.
I wiggled it a bit for fun, feeling… well… feeling incredible. Do you know how amazing it is to have twenty
guys standing there, every one of them wanting you? It’s a heady feeling. You have power. I turned around and flung my arms wide,
giving them what they wanted.
Me.
And then I
stepped forward. Hands touched me,
caressed me and I felt fingers grabbing at my breasts, my ass, and then
slipping between the wet folds of my sex.
I was stuffed with the ben wa balls and as I flung my head back and let
everything happen, it seemed as if I would be torn apart. It felt… astonishing. Then there was shouting and the crowd broke
up. The fingers slowly let go, leaving
me wanting. The last to pull out were
the two in my sex and I groaned as I slumped to the side.
“Go
on! Get back to work! All of you!
Geese, it’s not like she hasn’t been here before and she’ll be here all
night! Christ!” Zach called out, banging
shoulders. He stepped up to me and
looked down at my naked body and the glistening wetness dripping down my
thighs.
“Mobbed
huh?”
I blinked
at him. “What did you expect?” I said
grumpily. “It’s hardly my fault.”
He crossed
his arms. “I saw the dance.”
I turned up
my nose, assumed a haughty expression and looked away. “It’s expected.”
Zach
nodded. “Right. Now let’s get those
things set up.” He took my arm and led
me into the common room, right up to the stone altar.
Val was
already well into the process of setting up the stands. Each one was a heavy metal plate, easily ten
pounds or so. Welded to the plate was an
adjustable metal pole. At the top was a
pressure clamp that sported an arm.
These were actually new, since Mike the Hardware Guy had realized that
he needed more versatility with how the motors were attached. Now the mounted to the end of the extendable
arm and the power cord merely wound down the arm.
Mike the
Hardware Guy had taught me how to assemble them and I demonstrated with the
first one and let Val handle the other two.
At the end of fifteen minutes we had three metal stands, each one with a
small electric motor at the end of the swinging arms, and each motor sported a
six inch aluminum wheel. Attached to
each wheel were two leather straps, each one about seven inches long and two
inches wide. Mike had been forced to add
the second strap because of balance issues.
I placed
the first one at the end of the altar.
It was an unspoken thing and Val understood immediately where the other
two needed to go. I left him then,
getting the power cords in place and testing the motors. I turned to Zach and shrugged.
“Guess
we’re ready.”
Zach
nodded. “Good. The party doesn’t start for two hours, so
let’s get you prepped. We held a
lotto.” He took my elbow, ignored my
confused expression, and led me upstairs.
Evidently
prep for the party meant I got to spend the first hour on my back. They had set aside someone’s room and five
guys were already in line. It was
vanilla, but it at least scratched my itch and I spent the next hour in various
states of orgasmic bliss. I don’t mind
gangbangs. Hell, I’ve done them often
enough, especially there. So when the
fifth guy (I have no idea what his name was) came, we only had about forty five
minutes before the official start of the party. I could hear the music thumping
down below and my guess was that, at least for the fraternity guys, the party
had ALREADY started.
Zach let me
shower, which was nice, and when I got out, helped me get my hair brushed and
straightened. Then with a grace he led
me to his room. There, hanging up on a
hook, was a white cloak and a feathered mask that would have looked at home in Venice during
Carnival.
“For me?” I
asked. I was impressed. Originally I was just to be blindfolded, but
I guess he wanted me to be able to see.
That was nice of him.
“Of course.
You are the sacrificial lamb tonight,” he said as he took the cloak off the
hook and shook it out. It was satin, and caught the light. He wrapped it around my neck and secured it
with a large metal clasp, a wrought butterfly.
The thing was huge and actually closed enough at the front to completely
hide the fact that I was naked as a jaybird underneath. There were white high heels too, open toed
and incredibly tall. I slipped my feet
into them and Zach knelt to buckle them.
Finally he helped me don the incredible mask and I glanced at myself in
the mirror. I looked amazing.
I felt
amazing too. I’d had three orgasms the
previous hour and I felt like glowing.
It’s hard to really understand unless you are there, the power of
seduction in your hand, knowing you are wanted and desired. And I was treated like gold. I knew that was an illusion, one that would
shortly be shattered, but before the party I was the one in nominal
control. I knew that after my
“sacrifice” as Zach called, I wouldn’t be.
Dressed and
ready, we waited for a decent interval, which basically meant that I kneeled on
the floor and sucked Zach’s cock. He
held off for another ten minutes, despite my best efforts, until finally he let
loose and sent a teaspoon’s worth of white cum down my throat. When we were done and I had wiped the
remnants from my lips and then licked my finger, he stood, zipped up his black
pants, and then donned a heavy dark robe. A gold chain went around his neck and I saw a
cheesy, gold plastic pentagram hanging against his chest.
Zach, ever
the gentleman, held out his hand and let me go first. As I found the top of the stairs, a cool
breeze hit me and I looked downward. The front door was wide open, light
spilling out into the gathering darkness.
As we started to descend, even more guests arrived and I hesitated. I watched in astonishment as two girls, both
dressed at borderline indecency, arrived with a giggle and entered the common
room. By comparison, I was wearing more,
at least if you counted the cloak. I
suddenly felt embarrassed, shamed, and my skin tingled. What would happen when the cloak came
off? How many people were going to be
here?
About a
dozen more guests arrived before we made it to the bottom of the stairs and my
anxiety levels were shooting up along with my pulse rate and adrenaline. Ever hear about fight or flight
response? I was having trouble. Fortunately Zach was there, an ever present
reminder that not only was I safe, but that if I tried to flee, I’d be on the
sacrificial altar all the earlier.
We turned
and entered the common room, ostensibly a couple, and I was assaulted by a
thousand different noises and smells.
Food, and lots of it, was piled up on the buffet table and my stomach
rumbled. All I’d had was two loads of cum in the last few hours and dinner,
even it if was munchies, sounded great.
The music was playing loudly, and there were people actually dancing in
the middle of the room.
There were
girls everywhere and enough skin that for a second I didn’t feel so
awkward. One girl was even going around
topless and there was another who was dressed like some sort of zombie,
complete with makeup, whose top was nothing more than a tee shirt that looked
like it had gotten caught in a paper shredder.
I have no idea how she had even gotten it on without tearing it. Both of her nipples were poking out and both
were pierced with little barbells. They
were also covered in gray makeup, which I thought a very nice touch.
Other
costumes were just as sexy, from nurses to pirates to one girl wearing a highly
sexualized “Link” costume from Legend of Zelda.
I liked that one. She had a cool
sword and shield and I was pretty sure from the lacings on the side of the
skirt that she wasn’t wearing panties.
All in all, I was just one more entrée on the menu.
The guys
though… wow. Sure, Halloween is a time
for girls to act slutty, to give into their baser impulses. For guys though, I saw some of the most
impressive makeup jobs. Edward from the
Twilight movies was there in triplicate.
There was this one guy dressed in blue scrubs, a lab coat, and a
stethoscope, holding a speculum, and wandering around asking every girl if they
would care for a gynecological exam.
Zach led me through the carnival of masks and monsters and sluts and
over to the buffet table.
I was
ignored for the most part. After all,
there wasn’t much showing, was there?
There were other girls who were flaunting their assets, half dressed or
even less, so why pay attention to the girl in the full length cloak and mask? For a mad second I thought about throwing
caution to the wind and just flinging the cloak over my shoulders and baring
everything. But my own nature held me
back and I struggled to stick one hand out of the cloak to hold my plate while
Zach kindly placed treat after treat on my dish. Finally I was satisfied and Zach pulled me to
a semi-quiet corner to munch. He went
off to get us drinks while I, clutching my cloak close, ate quietly.
Zach
brought me a bottle of beer, but I barely sipped at it. I was too tense. Finally I finished my food and Zach took it
all away. Then he led me across the room
to the sound system. One of the frat
guys was handling the tunes and there were some quiet words exchanged between
the two of them and then Zach was once more leading me through the crowd. We headed for the stone altar.
The heavy
rock song ended and instead of the next pop rock tune, this dark foreboding
music started. It was creepy, scary, and
certainly got people’s attention. Then
the lights were turned off and the only illumination came from the raised pool
table light that was centered right above the stone altar.
Call Zach
dramatic I suppose but as the crowd hushed, he stepped up to the altar and
raised his hands. He quoted some mumbo
jumbo about Samhain and blah blah blah blah.
I heard the word sacrifice and then I was pushed forward, lightly of
course. My white cloak gleamed in the
light and Zach turned toward the crowd even as his hands came to rest on my
shoulders.
“Should she
be sacrificed?” he asked.
“YEAH!” the
crowd roared their approval. All sorts
of catcalls and comments were maid, including a few demanding my cloak be
removed.
“Should she
suffer?”
“YEAH!”
“Should she
be used?”
“YEAH!”
Zach
squeezed my shoulder and I knew it was time.
I lifted my hands, and then my arms and the cloak opened. There was another
excited cheer that deafened me as my breasts and then all the rest of me was
exposed. I felt raw and my stomach was
in knots. My heart thudded painfully in
my chest and then Zach pulled the clasp of the cloak apart and the white
material, the only protection I had, fell away.
I stood there naked in my glory, with only the stupid mask protecting my
identity. I spread my arms wide, making
it clear that I was consenting to what was coming and then Zach and several
other guys from the fraternity surrounded me.
I was
lifted to the stone altar and I think practically everyone wanted to help. I was touched again, all over, though no one
stuck their fingers in me. In seconds I
was pulled taut, spread-eagled and bound, my wrists and ankles secured to the
faux stone table. I spotted Val helping,
but then Zach was speaking again, shouting for silence. He ordered the spanking machines turned on. Slowly the belts began to swing and Zach, Val,
and another member of the fraternity moved them into position.
I’ve been
whipped before. In fact, I’ve even
endured these very spanking machines. The first time it happened there was only
one strap and I’d been tied down to a coffee table at Mike’s house. Now I was on display with only my mask
protecting me. With three spanking
machines, the obvious targets were taken care of and the insidious “snap, snap,
snap” of the leather smacking my flesh seemed loud.
At least
until the music roared to a crescendo and the crowd began chanting in time with
the strokes. That lasted only about a
minute though. My world had narrowed. The lights above me blinded my vision and
only the occasional face or hand traveled into my sight. My hips were already jerking in steady
thrusts as the two leather straps beat downward on my clit, soaking up the
juices. My breasts felt the sting, then
the heat. The tips hardened into tiny points as the two spanking machines at my
bosom slapped downward with steady snicks of the leather tongue. There were also hands on me, touching my
feet, my legs, my fingers. I felt a cock in one hand and I rubbed at it.
It didn’t
take me long to rise to the occasion. I
began crying out, but not in agony. It
was sexual desperation and I began begging them to fuck me, to hurt me, to make
me cum. Fingers fiddled with the
settings on the spanking machines and the slower and then faster strokes had a deleterious
effect on me. Soon the pounding of my
pudenda was enough to send me skyrocketing up and I exploded wetly, literally
squirting a bit of Bre juice out toward the crowd that gathered at the foot of
the altar.
And the
whipping continued. It wasn’t until I
was half way up again that Zach announced that I had suffered enough and was
ready to sacrifice my body. I wasn’t
sure what that meant, but I was released from the ankle and wrist cuffs, lifted
up, and then deposited on my knees as a line of cocks formed.
Then to my
surprise, one of the other girls volunteered for sacrifice. I watched as her red rubber catsuit was
stripped off her and she was hauled upward, spread-eagled, and secured to the
table. The spanking machines were
manhandled back in place and then started.
For just a moment I watched as the sex soaked strap between her legs
began striking her. Then my view was
blocked by hairy cock.
I
sucked. There wasn’t anything else to
do. Someone moved behind me and I was
stroked and fondled. I sucked. Fingers slide between my thighs and I spread
my legs to give them better access. I
sucked. Another orgasm, another
cock. I sucked. Then the other girl was deposited next to me,
her breasts red and her loins bright scarlet.
She too was given cock to suck and we slurped in time with each other,
even as another girl was pushed forward, pretending to object, to be stripped
and placed on the altar.
A hand
stopped me between blowjobs and I was lifted to my feet and guided out of the
common room. I was led up the stairs,
still naked, still horny, my face covered with cum. I recognized the room and I was pushed gently
down to the bed, my wrists cuffed to the bed frame even as my legs were pulled
apart.
Evidently
the instructions were simple. If you
wanted to cum, you had to paddle her. Ten
in fact. I know. I counted them. Multiple times. At first, they were allowed to decide where
those strokes went and I was twisted and turned so that my breasts, my bottom,
or my sex was open and exposed. That
leather sap would come down hard and I’d be close to screaming. Then I’d get
stuffed to the brim.
Time
faded. Eventually it got to the point
where I was sleeping through the sex and only waking up when someone would
manhandle my ankles apart and then bring the sap down on my clit. When Zach figured out that I was practically
comatose, he came in with the next guy, but leather cuffs on my ankles, and
hauled them up over my ears so I was bent in half with both my wrists and my
feet bound to the headboard. Pain
exploded through my rump as the sap came down and then I was ploughed
again.
I think it was around four in the
morning when they let me loose. Don’t
ask how many guys I screwed, or technically who screwed me. No clue.
I wasn’t drugged, or drunk. I was
just exhausted. Zach and Val released
me, massaging me lightly as they lowered my legs. I curled up into a ball,
wanting nothing more than to sleep.
“Want to
stay the rest of the night?” Zach asked me.
I think I just groaned, which is why he picked me up and carried me to
his room. He put me in his bed, climbed
in next to me, and held me while I slept.
But I
dreamed. I dreamt that instead of in
that soft warm bed with Zach, I’d been led downstairs; the debris of the party,
sleeping bodies, the scent of marijuana and cigarette smoke heavy in the
air. Trash was everywhere, as were the
sleeping bodies of those too drunk or too stoned to move. And the stone altar was still there. My captors took me too it, lifting me up,
despite my exhaustion, the soreness, or the fact that I could barely
stand. They bound me, stretching me
wide, and then, once I was secure, the whipping machines were put in place,
turned on, and left to strike the tender wetness between my legs and the
hardened aching nipples of my breasts.
In my dream
they left me like that till morning: the perfect sacrifice.
Happy
Halloween.
Breanne Erickson is the author of Coming of Age - A BDSM Romance as well as the wildly popular "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" Series. Check her out!
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