Friday, February 15, 2013

Valentine's Torture Party - Part Two

If you missed part one of Breanne's Valentine's Torture Party, please click here.

Part Two

            My mouth fell open.  Shock is not even the right word to use.
            Kari was dressed in a tight lyrca dress that showed off her slender body to its maximum advantage.  Her feet were in high heels, the kind that looked like she had spent about three or four hundred dollars for them.  A tiny black purse hung on her arm and diamond earrings, real diamond earrings, glittered at each side of her head, half hidden by the long, straight, white gold tresses.
            “Kari,” I whispered.
            You have to understand that I rarely mix dominatrix.  Kari is sophisticated, sharp, high class and about as different from Julie and her crew of low-brow, twenty something, punk rocker, drug-using, college age weirdoes.  In fact, up until the moment Kari arrived, I was pretty sure I was the oldest person in the place.  Perhaps Jimmy was closer to my age, but I doubted it.  He didn’t have the grace and poise that more mature men seem to get when they move closer to thirty than twenty.
            She stepped into the apartment. I was still too stunned.  Kari never came to Julie’s place.  Julie NEVER went to Kari’s condo.  They were incompatible.  Julie is a punk rock Goth girl who smokes and plays poker and drinks beer and tokes marijuana.  Kari is an interior designer and might, occasionally, have a glass of wine with her dinner!  It was oil and water.
            Her long fingers dipped into the bowl of clothespins.  “These, I presume, are for my amusement?” she asked lightly, her voice already husky with that sexual overtone I’ve grown so accustomed too.
            I nodded stupidly. 
            “Good,” she replied.  Then she plucked two of the pegs from the bowl and quickly finished the set applied to my labia.  I groaned as her fingers flicked against the clothespin on my clit and then she kissed me.  It was everything I could do not to melt.
            Julie appeared.  “Hi, Ms. Anders.  Thanks for coming,” she said politely.
            Ms. Anders?  Seriously? I’d never heard Julie use an honorific ever!  I tried to wrap my mind around it.
            Kari smiled. “It’s quite an honor. I won’t be staying long however, just an hour or so.  But I do appreciate the invitation.”
            Julie grinned. “Of course.  Come on in.  Can I get you a drink?”
            My mistress nodded. “Rum and Coke please.” 

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!


No comments:

Post a Comment

Thanks for commenting on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog! We love hearing from our fans. Whether it's a critique, a suggestion, or just a plain old "well done!" drop us a line! Or feel free to email us directly! You can find our address at our website! Thanks!