Thursday, November 22, 2012

Thrice Tender Delicacy


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 20, 2012

Care to go for a ride?

I don't normally post just pictures, but I'm in a mood this morning. Frankly I'd like to put someone on the wooden horse this morning and watch her squirm and ride until she's crying and ready to relieve my needs. What can I say? I'm in a mood.








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

Trying again...





Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that I'm trying the facebook thing AGAIN.  I'll keep it G or PG rated this time so I don't get my ass kicked off.  Why can't the folks at facebook just spank me instead of deactivating my account?  


Anyway, if you want to friend me, you know where to find me!

Bre
 

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!