Tuesday, March 12, 2013

I'm Feeling Cruel - Elements

No, I'm not a switch.  You know me. I like the bottom.  But sometimes I can be a little wicked - very naughty, and more than a little vicious.  For example, I was going to post my little adventure from Saturday, but then Michael asked me not to.  Why?  Because Tales Volume 7 is going to come out in a month or so and he thought it might be nice to have some "never before published" material in there.  

But I'm feeling naughty today, which is probably a result of the fact that I'm stuffed with both vibroballs AND a 6 inch long vibrator, all held in with my scratchy hemp thong, which is rubbing my poor little clit and I figure if I have to be sexually tormented all day, then so should you.  So here's an excerpt from Saturday's little sexcapade "Elements." - Bre

P.S. Oh yeah, and a photo too.  Didn't Mike the Hardware Guy do a great job?

Kari glanced over at me. “Are you ready, Bre?” she asked, straightening up and taking a step forward. 
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied politely.  One should always be polite to Kari. I was already near the far end of the string, which was tied to a live oak at one end of Kari’s backyard.  Mike came up and held one hand as I swung a leg over the line. I caught it with my heel accidentally and as the damn things vibrated like a plucked guitar string I watched as little showers of sand sprinkled down across the lawn from each bead.  It was impressive.
The first thing I felt was the string pressing against my labia.  Mike reached down and very nicely helped me by making sure the string was set deeply in my slit and I winced as he tugged one of my petals outward.  I was on tip toe already, feeling the pressure, though it was more of a discomfort than actual pain. I’ve done quite a few rope walks, but admittedly nothing like this.  I’m more used to thick, scratchy hemp abrading my sex and leaving me feeling scoured.  The string was narrow yes, and cutting yes, but it was smooth and as I began to inch forward I didn’t feel the scratchy tearing I’m used to.
Everyone moved closer as I neared the first bead, which happened within two small steps for me.  I inched forward and then felt Mike’s hands on my wrists.  With a smooth movement he pulled them up and then behind my head, locking the leather cuffs together, and then to the back of my collar.  Julie then stepped forward, in what was obviously a pre-planned event, and bent down.  She licked both of my nipples, followed by long slow suckling and as soon as I seemed to be moaning, she backed off just enough to sprinkle a little sand on my breasts.  Then she began attaching the steel clover clamps to my nipples. I groaned as the steel pincers bit down and the silver colored chain dangled between my breasts. I could literally feel the tiny grains of sand between the clover clamps and my flesh. Then it was Mistress Sara’s turn and she came forward, both hands extended.  Cupped in each palm was a one pound weight, complete with tiny hook and these she hung directly under each clover clamp, literally tightening the tiny metal jaws on the tips of my breasts.
Did it hurt? Oh gosh yes.  Totally.  But I’m used to having my nipples crushed like that.  And even though my brain was already sputtering with the sensorial over-load of sensation, all the hurt really did was make me hyper-aware of what was going on between my legs. 
“Now begin, Breanne.”  Kari’s voice was firm and final and I took my first step.
It was dramatically different from other “rope walks” that I have done, and let me tell you, I’ve done some doozies.  I’ve walked ropes that were too high. I’ve walked ropes that were too taut.  I’ve walked ropes that were frozen. I’ve walked ropes that were drenched in Stinging O and Tabasco sauce. I’ve walked ropes slowly and I’ve walked them fast, encouraged by the bite of a whip.  But I’ve never walked a thin string that slid through my sex like a knife.
Perhaps it was the tension.  The string was pretty taut and dipped down like a tightrope as it disappeared into my slit, only to become visible again at the small of my back as it worked its way out from between my buttocks.  The line felt smooth, but it was so narrow that as my steps moved it through my loins, it almost felt like it was cutting me.
And then I hit the first bead.  I let out a tiny gasp because the damn thing was big enough to rub against my entire clit.  My hips jerked a bit, rubbing myself back and forth on the sphere, unintentionally doing exactly what the devious devil who envisioned this little torment session wanted: to transfer the cleansed and sterilized sand from the bead to my clit.  I moved forward some more and felt the rounded bulb slip deeper, spreading my fold and leaving a grainy residue coating the insides of my labia.  I moaned as the bead reached my opened, slipping in ever so slightly, forcing me into a deliberate step to pop it outward and move it down and across my perineum.  My ass puckered as the bead dipped into my anus, not penetrating, but striking the sensitive nerves like a gentle finger stroking.  Then the bead worked its way up my butt crack and disappeared behind me.
I couldn’t detect any change other than a dramatic increase in arousal as I worked my way further down the line.  I had expected some sensitivity due to the sand, but evidently the string I was walking wasn’t broad enough to actually rub any of the grains into my flesh, which is probably a good thing.  I moved gingerly forward until I found the next sand covered bead and repeated the process, my moans and groans much more verbal as my body reacted to the sexual stimulation.
And I wasn’t the only one either.  Kari, who had been wearing a slinky skirt, had lifted it up to her waist and Robert was on his knees, lapping at her clit.  One high-heel clad foot was up on a chaise lounge and it was clear she was enjoying the attention.  Kari really only gets turned on when she’s hurting someone, so at least my suffering was getting her aroused.  Off to the side Alissa was laying on her back in the grass, her head tilted so that she could watch me, legs spread wide apart, while Mistress Sara began swinging one of those rubber floggers down at her ripe petals.  I know from experience that those floggers don’t hurt very much, and that considering Alissa pain threshold, this was probably a butterfly kiss, one that aroused Alissa to new heights.
Which left Mike and Julie being the odd ducks out.  Julie was leaning against the outside wall of the condo, her hand stuffed down the front of her jeans, clearly working herself into a froth.  Mike however studied me intently, eyes glued to my body as I went from bead to bead.  I could see the bulge in his pants however and I knew the stress he was feeling.  I was aroused too, but the beads weren’t enough to get my off, even when I rubbed myself back and forth across them.
By the time I was halfway across, I began to feel the sand.  At first it was this little bit of irritation, like a scratching sensation.  To be honest, I was a little surprised.  It wasn’t even as bad as walking the thick hemp line knotted rope I usually use.  But as I hit more of the little sand-crusted beads, more granules were left between my legs, scouring me as each new bead worked its way through my well lubricated and sandy slit.
I glanced over to the side, my bottom lip caught between my teeth, and watched a little wide-eyed as Julie moved over to Mike the Hardware Guy, tapped him on the shoulder, and then when he tore his eyes away from me, pushed down her jeans, exposing her bottom.  She bent over the outside dining table and Mike grinned, pulling a condom from his pocket.  A moment later he was well clad and slipped his cock into Julie from behind.  They moved quickly, passionately, as if there were some sort of finish line in front of them.  But they both watched me and as I got closer to them I smiled between groans.

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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