I love children’s stories. I read them to my daughter and one of the ones that came out a few years ago, or perhaps I just discovered a few years ago, is entitled “If you give a mouse a cookie.” The story is simple. If you give a mouse a cookie, she’s going to want a glass of milk. And so on and so forth, a long line of events chained together by tenuous links that circle back around to the mouse doing something that makes her want… you guessed it. A cookie.
Sometimes I feel like that mouse, except in a storybook for adults, or at least seriously minded, older teenagers. I’m not sure how I’d title it though. It might be an unwieldy and awkward title if it says “If you give a nympho humiliation pain slut an orgasm, she’s going to want another.”
I’m wearing a skirt since it’s not exactly comfortable to have a wooden clothespin dangling from one’s nether regions. And that precludes panties too, so I’ve been going around somewhat commando, the vibroballs rumbling inside me and a wooden clothespin swaying with every step, the pressure and sensation of my clit being clamped more than enough to stimulate me into more arousal.
So how am I doing? Not very well actually. It’s not as easy to masturbate yourself into orgasm when you’ve got a three inch long, wooden vice grip on the spot you’re trying to rub. I ended up twisting the clothespin. And wiggling the clothespin. And flicking the clothespin. The three orgasms I’ve had have been much more intense than the ones this morning, but they’ve exhausted me even more. I’m so tired. The human body just isn’t meant for this kind of abuse. I can tell. I’m slowing down. I’m at the point I don’t even WANT to cum anymore. And for me, that’s psychologically strange.
To be honest, I’m thinking about it. Don’t ask “what? What is she thinking?” You know damn well what I’m thinking. How bad would the binder clamp really be? Could I handle it crushing my clit for the rest of the day? It would hurt a little more than the clothespin. Okay. A lot more. But still, the cold metal against my clit, the pressure, the bite. The whole idea is becoming more and more appealing. It’s like a worm wriggling its way through my psyche. Part of me, the evil side of me, the desperate side of me is whispering “do it! Do it, Bre!” And part of me is saying. “It’s the middle of the afternoon. Do you really want to wear the binder clamp for six more hours?”
Fuck it. God yes I want to wear it. I just need to cum again. Several times actually. I’m so behind! I’m getting the binder clamp now. My skirt is already up. There’s the clothespin. Owww… taking the clothespin off aches. Spreading my legs… need it. Want it. Feel it… oohhh… the metal is so cold… rubbing it against my clit. Oh God yes. Hips thrusting. Wanting. Put it on. Clamp it. Crush it…….. oommf fuck hurts.. yes flick flick fflick. Needdd. Ookay. Ccool. Can ddo tthis.
Now I’m only two behind.
God damn that thing aches.
Total Hours: 160
Total Orgasms Required: 78
Total Orgasms Experienced Thus Far: 33
Hours Elapsed: 71
Expected Goal: 35
Orgasms Over/Under: -2