Saturday, July 27, 2013

See Through - Part Four

This is Part Four.  You can tell by the fact that I'm calling it See Through - Part Four.  This means that if you are new to this blog, or haven't stopped by in a while (you naughty thing you!) you might be a little behind.  For punishment, you will need to do two things.  The first is to click on the appropriate Part of my Tale, so you get the whole story.  Part One is HERE. Part Two is Here, and Part Three is here.  The second thing you should do is get a bottle of oil, take off anything you're wearing from the waist down, apply an appropriate amount of oil, and rub.  Well, that might be more than two things, but I'm sure you don't mind.  I don't. - Bre
When Kari and I left the restaurant I was once again hurting.  My shirt had been buttoned back up and as I followed my mistress across the parking lot I took tiny steps and tried not to make the trio of alligator clamps wiggle too much.  Every little movement sent shards of discomfort through me, though I expect it isn’t much of a surprise to you.  It certainly wasn’t to me, though I was shocked that Michelle, the blond waitress, had been as enthusiastic about putting the clamps back on me as she had been about taking them off.  She had stayed there, watching me finish the NHPS pushups, ten of them this time instead of the previous five, and had drawn things out by running her fingers over the tiny red indentations that covered my bosom.  There had also been some unnecessary twisting when she put the clamps back on and the throbbing discomfort I was now feeling was as much Michelle’s fault as mine.  
Kari had spent quite a bit of time talking to our little waitress, just out of ear shot, and from the eager smile on Michelle’s face, I had little doubt we’d be seeing her again sometime.  But none of that made much of a difference to me as I pressed my arms against my see through blouse and stumbled along to Kari’s convertible.  Everything in my brain was telling me to find someone, anyone, to flick the alligator clamps and get them removed.  Sex was the furthest thing from my mind and despite the continuous buzzing of the vibroballs in my depths, there wasn’t a trace of sexual arousal permeating my body.  At least, not at that point.
My best friend, lover, and sexual torturer climbed behind the wheel and we drove off, but to my surprise, Kari didn’t take the normal route back to her office.  As I sat there fully exposed, my skirt far enough up so that I could see the alligator clamp on my clit, with my arms pressed to my breasts, I bit my lip, fidgeting as she took unexpected turns.  The convertible streaked southward, my hair whipping back from my scalp in the blast of both wind and somewhat meaningless air conditioning, and then Kari pulled into the parking lot of what looked like an industrial warehouse.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, my voice a mixture of concern, pain, and the beginning tension of sexual need.  You try sitting there with vibroballs buried inside you, exposed to the elements and half a million eyes, with your nipples and clit pinched tightly, and try not to get aroused.  A thirty minute ride was more than enough to prime the pump.  Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t anywhere close to cumming, but had the back of my skirt displayed the classic “juicy” motif, I wouldn’t have been sued for false advertising. 
Kari glanced over at me, a big smile on her face.  “Private supplier. We’re shopping.”
I glanced up at the warehouse. “Here?” I said.  This was a private supplier? Of what?  This clearly wasn’t a showroom.  It looked like a place someone would store junk.
My best friend climbed out of the car, but rummaged around behind the seat and produced a clipboard and a pen.  As I got out of the convertible, smoothing my skirt down to hide the alligator clamp attached to my clit, she came around and handed me her find.
“You can act as my assistant. Just make note of the lot numbers.”
“Lot numbers?”
Kari ignored my question and then proceeded up the concrete steps to the single entry glass door.  She opened it and an electronic chime sounded.  I took the golden opportunity of having the clipboard and pressed it lightly to my chest.  Hey, if she wanted to give me something to block the view, fine by me.
The lobby was small and Kari stood there waiting for about three seconds before a man dressed in a suit at least as fine as hers walked in. His eyes brightened as he saw her, but then he caught sight of me and his eyebrows went up.  I guess even with the clipboard and arms drawn across my chest, my shirt and obvious lack of a bra or underclothing was interesting enough all on its own.  He recovered smoothly, though his eyes now bounced from Kari to me in a sort of flickering back and forth movement.
“Ah… Ms. Anders.  It’s good to see you again.”  He reached out a hand and Kari took it. They shook lightly.
“Of course,” Kari replied.  She took a step to the side and motioned at me. “I’d like to introduce my assistant.  This is Breanne.  She’ll be accompanying me and taking notes.”
The man gave me a beaming smile, evidently pleased to know me.  He reached out a hand and gave me his name.
“I’m Gary,” he said.  “I’ve heard of you.  You modeled at one of Kari’s shows.”
I blinked at the revelation as I looked down at his hand.  I shelved the fact that he seemed to know me and focused on his outstretched palm.  There was just no way around it, and I could tell that the offer to shake was more than just a pleasant greeting. He wanted to see what I was covering up.  I swallowed, but Kari’s little glare was more than enough to motivate me.  Finally I moved the pen from my right hand to my left and then lowered my arm, hoping the clipboard would do its job.  But even as my hand came out to grasp his I knew I had failed.  The sharp intake of breath, the widening eyes, even the flare of his nostrils made it clear that not only had he seen at least one breast, but knew what was dangling from it.
“I guess employee discipline isn’t what it used to be,” he said, suddenly grinning.
I flushed crimson.  I could FEEL the heat on my face as Kari laughed.
“She does have her issues.  She’ll wear those three clamps until she finds someone willing to remove them.”
Yeah, like THAT comment wasn’t a setup.  Even I, as monumentally stupid as I can sometimes be, heard THAT line.  Hell, I could have predicted the next question from Gary’s mouth.  But I didn’t need to.  He said it out loud.
Kari smiled. “She has another one on her clit, to remind her not to cum.”
Where the fuck does Kari find these people?  I mean seriously!  Why is it that she seems to know an entire list of perverted individuals who seemingly have no problem with the fact that her “personal assistant” is being sexually abused right in front of them?  Why am I not having to explain that it’s consensual, or begging them not to call the police?  Seriously, does no one ask these questions?  I realize that Kari is connected, and in strange ways, but come on!  The owner of the restaurant has a private dining area in the back just for Kari and the other mistresses to abuse their slave girls during lunch?  I know money is a big factor, but come on.  I’d never even met this Gary guy before and he seemed honestly surprised by my appearance and he STILL seemed fine with the fact that I was standing in front of him, half dressed, wearing flip flops for God’s sake, with my breasts clearly clamped, only to be told that my clit was in the same condition.
Gary had a quick mind.  “I’ll bet that’s a sight to see!” he said brightly, glancing at Kari, then back at me.
If it was possible for my face to turn redder, I’m pretty sure I’d be mistaken for a lobster, laid out on a table, and had my tail eaten.  Which might actually be fun.  Sorta.  Kari looked at me and nodded and I knew what she wanted.  I sighed, but kept that quiet since I didn’t want to merit punishment just for being contrary.  So instead I put the clipboard on a chair behind me, giving Gary the full view, and then used my hand to pull up the hem of my skirt. I didn’t mince things either.  I didn’t just give him a glimpse. I rolled the skirt up to my waist.  In for a penny, in for a pound, right?
Gary loved it and he almost reached out to touch the clamp.  His fingers were twitching.  But then he stopped himself and looked up at my face.  “Delightful.  But don’t they hurt?”
I nodded, keeping my mouth shut.  Kari came to my rescue.  “She has to keep them on until she finds someone willing to flick them a bit.  Five flicks to each clamp to be precise.”
With a look of surprise, he grinned.  “Well I’d be happy to volunteer!” he said.  Oh… of course you would like to volunteer…
Kari put a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “That’s very generous of you, but we do have my tour. Perhaps when we are finished you can give Breanne some relief, and she can thank you for it.”
Gary blinked and then grinned even wider.  “Of course.  That makes perfect sense.”
I started to roll down my skirt, but Kari’s eyes hardened. “Did I tell you to cover up?” she demanded.
I swallowed, a thrilling tinge of sexualized fear running through me. “No, Kari.” I moved the hem of the skirt back up to my waist.
“That’s earned you another punishment.  Now, get the clipboard and follow.”
She turned and took Gary by the arm and the two of them stepped from the lobby through the door on the far side.  I made a face because neither of them were looking, grabbed the pen and clipboard, and followed.  The lobby opened directly onto a massive air conditioned warehouse chock full of furniture.  A small office stood to the right, well lit with florescent lights, while the main floor relied on huge sun roofs in the ceiling.  I got the feeling we were walking through an antique mall – a poorly maintained one.
Dust covered everything and Gary led Kari down an aisle and turned right.  I followed along, my flip flops clacking as the foam hit the soles of my feet.  Gary kept glancing back at me, just a little disappointed that I had once again covered my breasts with my arms and the clipboard.  He’d just have to look at the little bright metal clip swinging from the darkness between my legs.  Aww…
Evidently Kari saw something she liked because she stopped suddenly and began examining what looked like a dining room set that had been made in the late eighteen hundreds.  It looked like fancy junk to me, and would need to be refinished, but Kari liked it.  She looked pointedly at me, called out a number, and then spouted off some fancy antique jargon that I can’t remember.  I know she said “dining set,” and “sideboard,” but she also seemed to know what style it was and then she hauled out her iPhone, and too my shock, took pictures of it. 
I was scrabbling down her words and Gary was taking the opportunity to ogle me.  He quite obviously positioned himself to keep me in view.  Kari circled around the set a few times, then even bent over and looked underneath. I have no idea what she was doing, but she seemed happy.  Then she went back to Gary and they continued their tour. 
We must have duplicated that first little inspection a dozen times, four or five with other dining room sets.  But Kari also examined bureaus, sitting chairs, and some sort of wooden desk that looked like it sat in Andrew Jackson’s study.  Everything was ancient, some of it falling apart, but Kari seemed to know what was good and what was bad.  Evidently she’s been watching that Antique show on television or something, because she seemed knowledgeable on what she was looking at, even without Gary’s commentary. I spent the time getting ogled and shifting from side to side as both my body and my brain dealt with the unending earthshake emanating from the vibroballs and Gary’s hungry looks.  At one point, while Kari was opening every drawer of some sort of engorged jewelry box the size of a refrigerator, Gary circled behind me and then leaned down to my ear.
“Why is there a wire going down to you ass?” he asked softly, so Kari wouldn’t hear.
I blushed again.  “It goes to the vibroballs,” I explained.
“Two plastic, egg shaped vibrators I’ve got inside me,” I explained, glancing over at Kari.  She hadn’t heard either of us.  Gary continued to whisper.
“Are they on?”
I nodded. “Yes sir.  On high.”
He leaned back in surprise. “Isn’t it difficult?  I’d imagine that you’d be having orgasms all over the place.”
The words popped out of my mouth before I even thought. “I’m not allowed to cum sir, but yes.  It’s very hard.”
His eyes narrowed quizzically. “You aren’t allowed to cum?”
I shook my head.
“But your vibroballs are on high?”
I nodded, my throat tight.  It felt like my nipples were throbbing even more than they had been before.  Was my pulse rate going up?  I could see the gears whirling in Gary’s head and he finally got there.
“So what happens when you do eventually have an orgasm?”
I couldn’t help it. I put the hand holding the clipboard under one breast and the one holding the pen under the other.  Then I jiggled them up and down.  It hurt for just a second too.  Gary figured it out.
“What if you haven’t had the clamps removed?”
I blinked.  I didn’t know the answer to that question.
Gary could see that in my eyes and chuckled. “Guess that would be up to your Ms. Kari?”
I nodded in relief.
He took a deep breath and shook his head.  Then he stepped away from me.  “Ms. Anders, if you’re finished here, I’ve got something I’d like to show you that may interest you. It’s not something I emailed you about, but has occurred to me now that you’re here.”
Kari looked up.  “Oh?  Something new?”
Gary grinned. “I think it might appeal to you, and to your assistant in particular.”
I turned an eye on Gary and immediately felt highly suspicious.  Since Gary didn’t know me from a hill of beans, except for the sex stuff which Kari had so graciously provided him, the only thing that might “interest” or “appeal” to me that Gary would know would be something sexual. 
Kari came out into the aisle looking intrigued. “By all means,” she said, giving Gary her hand.  Gary took it with a half bow and proceeded to lead her down past various other “lots” of junk furniture.  I followed along, still buzzing, still throbbing, and even more leery than I had been before.  We passed older and older items, some of them covered in sheets and other in a film of dust so thick I could have written my name in the stuff.  We took a turn and got to even darker areas of the warehouse, where not even all the lights were working.  Finally Gary came to a stop and pushed some sort of rolling drying rack out of the way.
It was filthy and covered in dust, but I at least recognized it as a chair of some kind, probably from a doctor’s office.  It was an antique, of that I was certain, but the leather pads were torn and stuffing was coming out.  The whole thing was mounted on a pedestal and all I could tell for certain that at least it wasn’t an obstetrician’s examination table.  That would have been just too fucking weird.  And this isn’t supposed to be fiction.
“It’s a Ritter?” Kari asked in surprise.
Gary nodded. “The name plate is on the back.  Some of the mechanics need to be replaced, but it still tilts backward,” he said glancing over at me.
Kari laughed, seemingly to know what Gary meant, though I was still completely in the dark.  . “I suppose now is as good a time as any.  We’re almost done anyway.”  She turned toward me and motioned toward the chair.  “Hop on up, Bre.”
I gave her a crazy look. “Seriously?  What is it?”
Gary chuckled.  “It’s a 1928 Ritter dentist’s chair,” he explained.
“A dentist’s chair?” I asked, still just a little ludicrous.
“Yes. With all the genuine parts.  We even have the tool stand that goes with it,” he said pointing into one dark corner where a pedestal stood.  There were a number of strange, half corroded steel arms attached to the thing and it gave me the creeps.
“No arguments Bre, if you want those clamps off,” Kari told me pointedly.
Well that settled it.  I put the clipboard and pen down and went straight for the dusty chair.
“Um… one minor suggestion, Ms. Anders?” Gary interrupted.  “The chair is awfully dirty and I’d hate to see Breanne’s outfit ruined…” he started to say.
Kari grinned. “Excellent point.  Strip first, Breanne.”
I stood there gaping at her.
“Well?  If you want those clamps off get out of those clothes and lie down on the damn chair,” Kari said impatiently.
Swallowing the last shreds of my dignity… oh who am I kidding? Like I have any dignity… I used trembling fingers to unbutton my shirt.  My sex was convulsing around the vibroballs almost constantly and Gary walked over to the Ritter chair and began trying to brush off the seat.  Dust bunnies the size of hamsters seemed to fall free and land on the ground.  When I finally got my shirt open, I peeled it off my shoulders and Kari took it from me. 
“I’ll hold that.”
Next came my skirt and I realized that stripping shouldn’t have been a problem for me since I was already displaying certain parts, albeit in a secretive manner.  But it was one thing to pull my skirt up and flash a bit of steel and a dark line.  Now I removed the material, catching the vibroballs remote in one hand.  Kari took the skirt and then smiled.
“Remove the vibroballs too,” she said softly.
Now that surprised me. I was certainly getting horny and the idea of losing the vibroballs, especially with them set to high, seemed something of a disappointment.  Gary watched closely as I finally spread my legs for him and tugged the two plastic ovoid objects out, licking each one lightly for a moment before handing them to Kari.  She had already turned them off and took them as if she were an exterminator holding a dead rat, except with a more intrigued expression on her face.
“Now go sit,” she said.
Wearing nothing but my flip flops and three steel pincers wiggling from the tips of my breast and the top of my slit, I moved over to the chair.  Sitting gingerly, I felt the tears in the padded, cracked leather cushion and leaned back.  Even more discomfort came from the backrest, also split and torn.  I put my arms on the rests and suddenly felt my entire body tip backward as Gary operated the mechanics of the chair and I was left staring up at a half lit florescent light above me.  I pressed my lips together. I’m not fond of dentists.
“Now how exactly is the flick supposed to go?” Gary asked.
A second later Kari’s hand appeared in my field of view and she flicked her forefinger off her thumb against one of the alligator clamps chewing on my breasts.  I cried out, wincing as the metal toothed monstrosity seemed to dance on it’s own, chewing at my nipple. 
“Oh,” Gary said.  “I think I’ve got it.”
Kari smiled. “Good.  Now if you don’t mind, I’m going back to that last batch and look at it again.  I’m sure you’ll help Breanne remove the clothespins.”  She looked down at me. “Make sure you thank Mr. Gary for helping you, you slut.  And I’ll be waiting. Anything past fifteen minutes will ensure additional torments.”
I blinked.  It took a moment to process what she was saying.  “Yes, Kari.”
Then she laid a light hand on my thigh, stroked one finger down my labia, sending shivers through every pore of my body.  I let out a light moan.  Then she left.
“Flicks huh?” Gary said, looking down at me.
I nodded. “Please?  Can we hurry?  I don’t have much time.”
Gary cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah.  What did she mean?  Fifteen minutes?”
I let out a sharp breath. “It’s tough to explain but you’ll understand in a moment.  So please?  Can we just get the flicking done and over with?” I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess. I’ve never done anything like this to a woman.”
Now it was my turn to bark out a laugh. “Woman?” I shook my head. “Slut, nympho, girl… maybe.  But a woman?  No.  Kari is the woman. I’m just a submissive girl.”  I bit my lip, correcting myself.  “A slave girl.  I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut.”
Gary was too enraptured by my body to care.  He pushed my feet off the center support and suddenly my legs dangled down to either side, ostensibly spreading me anyway.  I felt his hand on my thigh, inching up to my petals. 
“You are very beautiful,” he whispered.
I needed him to hurry. “Please?” I begged.  “Hurt me?”
And so Gary started to flick the clamps, starting with the one between my legs.  He wasn’t vicious about it, but rather lightly brushed the metal clamp, causing it to pull painfully on my flesh.  Shards of agony shot through me and I wriggled and moan under him.  He moved up to my breasts, kneading the mounds and running his fingers over the clamps, wiggling them back and forth.  I cried out, bucking, my sex ripening and wanting, at once gaping and the next struggling to capture something.  He seemed to sense it and when he finally removed the alligator clamp from my clit his thumb drove into me and practically sent me into heaven.
“Oh God yes! Fuck me!” I begged him.  The nipple clamps were almost torn off and his mouth came down hungrily, devouring my swollen and tender nipples, chewing on me in a way the alligator clamps could never do on their own.  My hand went down, found his hip, and since he was standing beside me, located his thickening cock and began stroking it.
Evidently that was too much for Gary because he let go of my breast and then unzipped his pants.  Things moved fast from there and I slid down the chair, spreading my legs wide.  Gary kicked off his loafers and the trousers, straddling the foot rest and forcing his cock forward. 
I almost swooned when he entered me and I cannot even begin to tell you how marvelous it was to have real cock inside me.  Yes, it makes a difference.  My hips rolled and thrust and admittedly I didn’t even care if he came or not.  All I cared about was my own relief, my own pleasure, and torments and punishments be damned.  We moved together in a frenzy, both of us taken to our limits by Kari, who teased and tempted us until finally, it didn’t matter  As I felt him stiffen, getting ready to pop, I let loose myself, screaming out in relief and release, another orgasm from a multi-orgasmic girl who can never seem to get enough.  My frayed and raw nerves were again burned open and I felt my head swim.  The moment overwhelmed me and I only have a vague recollection of Gary yanking out and sending a swirling maelstrom of white spurting across my loins and belly, his hand finishing what I had wished he had left to me.
He took a deep, satisfied breath and laid a hand on my breast, his fingertips on my nipple.  The dark reddish ridges where the alligator clamp teeth had dug into my flesh were quite visible and I winced slightly as he rolled the tender nub around, totally oblivious to the sensitivity I was feeling.
“Did you cum?” he asked me.
I nodded. “Yes sir,” I said numbly, only half realizing that I had again managed to do exactly the same damn thing I’d done at the fucking restaurant.  Except this time instead of Michelle’s delicious mouth nipping at my clit, it was a thick, incessant cock, probing my depths.  Someone had it out for me and I was betting her name was Kari.  I knew for sure a moment later when Gary helped me up and I saw that my clothes were set on a nearby table, along with my tack mat.  My stomach tightened horribly and I knew for sure that she’d set me up, knowing that I was far enough along that actually fucking would set me off like a bomb.
“What’s that?” Gary asked, handing me what looked like a thirty year old piece of paper towel.  I don’t know where he had scrounged it, but I used it to scrape away the slick syrup he’d poured across my torso.  When I was done, I threw it to the side and went over to the tack mat.  He watched as I picked up, fingers grazing the sharp points.  I also noticed my vibroballs were sitting quietly in a pile on top of my shirt and skirt.
“A message,” I said with a sigh.  I put down the tack mat and I picked up the vibroballs.  Lifting one leg I began sliding the first toy in as my toes found purchase on the table.  Gary liked the view and watched in amazement.  I rolled the first bullet through the wetness of my sex and pushed it in.  Then I did the other, Gary staring with delight.  As soon as I was stuffed I turned the vibroballs remote back up to full power and struggled to find my equilibrium as my body, my libido, and my brain all fought for control. I’m still pretty sure my libido one.
Once my sex was again tightening around the violent shaking coming from my own depths, I plucked the tack mat from the table and dumped it on the floor.
“What is that?” Gary asked intently, coming over to watch me as I straightened it with a kick of my flip flopped foot.
“Tack mat,” I said sharply.  “It’s part of the punishment.”
Gary didn’t respond, still too bewildered about what I was going to do.  Carefully I got into position and lowered myself down, a full NHPS Pushup in the works.  Slowly I dropped down, holding the majority of my weight with my arms until I felt the sharp pin pricks of the mat.  Then, once my breasts started to flatten, I put more and more weight on my chest until I was whimpering and pulling my hands up and placing them behind my back for the required second and a half.  Gary watched in open mouthed astonishment as I did this not once, but fifteen times.  Each drop increased the intensity of the coloration until my breasts looked like I had gotten a particularly bad sunburn. When I was done my arms felt strained, my toes ached, and my boobs…. well… my boobs felt like I’d left them at a butcher’s shop for tenderizing. 
Gary couldn’t help himself.  The moment I stood up and turned toward him, his hands came out to touch me.  Part of me minded, the part that was still wincing from the fact that my breasts had come out looking like I had been reeling drunk through a cactus garden.  The other part of me, the sexual part, knew that this reaction as totally normal.  I just hoped he’d be tender with me.
He was, at least at first, his fingers exploring the new textures of my skin.  He traced my nipples, enjoying the crinkled flesh, the heavy piercing on the right side, lifting the padlock up.  Then he began squeezing and pinching, twisting the tips of my breasts with ever increasing pressure until my wincing became a gasp of pain. 
“Sorry, guess I was a little enthusiastic,” he apologized, his hands dropping.  I shook my head.
“It’s all right,” I informed him.  I looked down at the table where my alligator clamps were set next to my clothes.  I leaned over and picked all three up and held them out to him.
“Wow, really?” Gary asked, accepting the steel hardware.
I smiled wryly.  “I’m afraid so.  I had an orgasm.”
He gestured at my bosom. “Even after…” he asked, clearly indicating the tiny red dots still visible across the flushed flesh of my chest.
“Yep.  That’s the way it is.”
“You are a glutton for punishment,” he said in amazement.  He lifted up the nipple clamps and I cupped my hands under my breasts and pushed them up.  My nipples were still hard from his tweaking, so it was an easy matter to attach the clamps, and I only had to correct him once when he started to put them on straight, rather than from below.  Pain blasted through my chest and I had to cling to his arm as I struggled to accept the biting punishment.
“You okay?” Gary asked, seeing that a tear or two had trickled down my cheeks.
I nodded vigorously.  “Just…. Just… takes a second or two to… get accustomed,” I gasped.
And it did.  Within a minute the awful pain dulled enough that I was able to think, with only a sharp throbbing of my breasts to indicate that my nipples had been clamped and bitten.  With a deep breath that only intensified the hurt, I spread my legs wide and lifted my arms, placing my hands behind my back.  “Now my clit,” I told him, dreading it.
Gary knelt down before me and reached up with his finger.  He began stroking my clitoris gently and there was a peculiar mixture of pleasurable discomfort as my over sensitized nub responded by swelling.  I rose up on tip toe, the arches of my feet exposed as my flip flop soles stayed on the ground and soon I was panting. 
“Please! Just put it on!” I said through clenched teeth.  I hadn’t expected him to try to arouse me again.  The vibroballs were humming and that combined with his light caress was pushing me right back toward the proverbial cliffs of orgasm.  He stopped though and brought up the clamp.
Pleasure turned to violent pain and I cried out, crumpling slightly, my knees slamming together as the clamp bit down on my clit.  Both hands went to my crotch, my involuntary reaction to the pain overwhelming whatever little amount of control I still possessed. Gary caught me, afraid I’d fall over.  I trembled in his arms as I again was forced to adjust, to accept my lot.  I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut.  I’d had sex.  I’d been embarrassed. And now… now I was in pain.  Punishment for me over-sexualized nature.
I could go on like this for days if someone let me, a never ending psychological and physiological misfit of deviant sexual behavior, whose already messed up brain had been warped and formed into not only accepting even worse abuses than nature had already made her want, but crave them.  I stood on the edge of the cliffs of orgasm and looked down, wondering how soon I would be forced to jump.
“Have you ever had sex with the clamps on?” Gary asked, studying me as I finally straightened and sucked in a breath.  The chain dangling from the alligator nipple clamps swung attractively, emphasizing the movement of my breasts.
I nodded. “A couple of times, doggy style.”  I picked up my clothes and slung them over my left arm, tucking the vibroballs remote into my left hand. 
“You aren’t getting dressed?” he asked.
I smiled then. “Kari didn’t tell me I could.  You don’t mind, do you?”
Gary blinked. “Hell no.  I’m already hard again actually.  Seeing you naked is doing wonderful things to my libido.”
I laughed and reached out with my right hand. Gary wasn’t kidding.  He was hard again, or at least semi-rigid.  But regardless he was clearly aroused. I couldn’t leave him like this.  It was against my personal mantra.  So I dropped the clothes back on the table, and with remote in hand, grabbed him and pushed him over to the dentist chair.  Evidently he didn’t seem to worry about his white shirt and dark trousers as he sat down and then I was the doctor, opening his fly, my gentle and nimble fingers plucking his stiffening shaft out from his boxers.
And then I sucked on him, bending over, wishing the chair raised up or something.  Gary groaned as my talented tongue did its thing and I tasted myself on him.  Delicious.  With only a few minutes of bobbing my head and steady pumping of my hands, I had him creaming a second time, though with a depressingly small amount of cum that barely was enough to wet my tonsils much less swallow.  But he groaned and bucked and his fingers tightened and I knew that Gary was now done, too spent and used.  I tucked his flaccid cock back into boxers, then zipped him up.  His grin was huge.
When we got back to the front office Kari was busy drawing something on several sheets of paper.  She took one look at my naked body.  I must have been a sight too.  My breasts were still a closer shade to fire engine than roses, the dark red dots vivid and interesting.  My nipples were distended and slightly white where the two steel toothed clamps bit into the soft flesh.  The jumbo alligator clamp hung from my clit like some sort of overly aggressive jewelry.  I was naked except for my flip flops, my clothes draped over one arm, while the vibroballs remote was held in my hand.  The wire trailed behind me, through my buttocks, to the sex toy buried in my depths, buzzing.  She shook her head. 
“Really, Bre? Have you no control?”
I shrugged.  What did she expect?  I’m a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut.

Breanne Erickson is the author of the wildly popular series "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut"  Breanne recently celebrated the release of Volume 7, a smorgasmborg of sexual escapades that bring her delightful writing, humor, and self-depreciation to the forefront.  If you're enjoying See Through, I highly recommend getting your copy of Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut, Vol. 7! Click here for a free sample!


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