Thursday, October 10, 2013

One Orgasm Too Many - Part Two

If you haven't read part one, you need to do that, or you'll be lost.  

Part Two

An hour later I walked into Julie’s store.  The place was thankfully empty and she lifted one eyebrow and glanced at me.  Forty minutes earlier I had been required to take off the vibrating clamps and replace them with the alligators, but David had taken the vibrating clamps away from me before I could put them away, and then hooked them to the base of each alligator clamp, making sure the vibrators were still on.
My nipples were so sore and tender from that.  It actually felt as if I had baby alligators chewing on the tips of my breasts.  Ouch.  Julie’s smile was huge.

“Wish I’d thought of that,” she said.
“Julie, can you unlock me?” I begged.  “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”
She nodded and pointed to the back of the store.  I hurried to the back room and once there, began shucking out of the stupid Daisy Duke shorts.
Julie stepped in and then looked at me in surprise.  My shorts were on the floor and I had one flip flop covered foot up on the desk.  “Excuse me?” she said shortly. “Clamps?”
I blinked. “What?” I asked. “What about them?”
“Take them off.”
My eyebrow went up.  “Why?”
Not the right thing to ask.  She came at me and flipped my halter top up and without much tenderness pinched the alligator clamps open and tossed the whole mess onto the desk.  Then without further commentary, she swung her hand at my bosom.
I braced myself and grit my teeth as she slapped my breasts back and forth, turning the skin an even darker pink.  Soon my face was scrunched up and then I heard her curse. 
“Be right back.  Customer.  Stay in that position,” she ordered.
So I did.  For like eleven minutes, my bladder close to bursting.  Then she came back in, and just started swinging again.  When I finally cried out, my breasts hot and heavy, she stopped, handed me the alligator clamps and the key to my chastity belt.  I couldn’t put the clamps back on.  Not at that moment.  My tits hurt too much.  So instead I pulled the halter top down and with the keys and the clamps in hand, stumbled out of the backroom.  She didn’t say a word as I walked out of her store and headed toward the nearest restroom.
Twenty minutes later I went back to Julie’s jewelry store.  The alligator clamps were dangling from my breasts, the halter top was pulled down, my chastity belt was in place, and the anal phallus was still buzzing away like mad.  I hadn’t cum in the bathroom because that wasn’t allowed, but I have to tell you that I felt tense, struggling against something strange going on in my body.
Julie pointed toward the back room, but she was helping customers at the time so I went to the back myself.  A quick glance at the time told me I needed to swap the clamps again so I took off the alligator clamps and put on the vibrating clamps.  It didn’t help. I still felt that tension.  Even more so. 
It’s tough to describe. It was sexual in a way, but it was like getting caressed everywhere BUT your sexual parts.  It was a teasing sensation, as if I had an itch and scratched around it.  It was like having a craving and having something else that you liked, but didn’t crave.  And as I tried to calm down, to relax, it didn’t help that Julie came back into the backroom, held out her hand for the keys, and then told me to take the vibrator clamps off.
Holy shit.  Would you believe she spanked my breasts AGAIN?  My fucking GOD!  Back and forth and hot and heavy and ouch and hissing and nipples tingling.  At least it wasn’t as many slaps as before and then she put the vibrating clamps back on.  Then she pulled a twenty from her purse and handed it to me.
“Since you’re here, go get us some lunch.  And bring it on a tray.”
Oh yeah, because the best thing for me is to be walking half the mall holding a TRAY under my breasts so that everything is in full view.  And of course me being in the busiest section of the mall at lunch time was brilliant.  But I took the twenty, did the best I could to cover up, and went and got lunch.
I brought it back, got sent to the backroom until the store was clear and you know what she did to me again?  The clamps came off, tossed on the desk and with one eye on the window into the store, her hand flashed back and forth across my chest, with me standing there whimpering, my chest aching abominably. She gave me around fifteen spanks though I’m not positive about the number.  I know she hit me more than ten times and she probably would have kept going awhile longer if a customer hadn’t come into the store.  Boy did I pick the wrong person to hold the fucking key.
I left after lunch. I couldn’t take it anymore and I headed back to the house.  I puttered around in the barn, got some stuff done, but around five thirty or so I needed to use the bathroom again.  I called Julie. She was at home.  So I drove to her apartment.  She lives in a run down, somewhat dilapidated craphole of a place, where the pavement is so crumbled it’s almost gravel and the landscaping basically can be described as bare earth with muddy slicks over the concrete.  Hell, I get nervous just walking the thirty or forty feet from the parking lot to her apartment.  There are some unsavory people that live around there.
And in case you hadn’t realized, I seem to be a savory tidbit.
Of course the moment I got to Julie’s place she opened the door and gave me an expectant look.  With a sigh of resignation, with the door still wide open and me standing in her foyer, I slipped my halter top up, exposing both breasts again, and gingerly removed the alligator clamps which were swinging from my nipples.  Her hand came up and she landed a particularly hard blow along my left breast, half turning me with the force.
Oh, and it hurt.  I grimaced.  It stung.  The heat flowed through me.  Then she whacked the other side and I dealt with it all as a flurry of blows, much stronger and furious than anything she gave me at the mall.  She kept at it until I was crying out and when a tear finally slid down my cheek she stopped.
My bosom was scarlet and hot and it felt like someone had injected molten lead into each breast.  Julie shut the door and then turned away.  She grabbed the key which was sitting on the coffee table and tossed it to me.  Then she sat down on the sofa and turned on the television.
I went to the bathroom.  The buzzing of the anal vibrator was driving me nuts and only the discomfort of my breasts and the fact that I’d been told NOT to masturbate kept my fingers from doing certain things down there.  I finished up, washed the chastity belt, put it all back in, set the anal probe to medium, and once again locked it all back up.  Then I took the key back to Julie.
“Take off your clothes. You look stupid,” she said.  I did, removing everything but the chastity belt and the alligator clamps.  Julie stared at me for a moment and then stood.  Her shorts came off, followed by the dark red thong she was wearing, and she sat back down on the couch, spreading her legs. 
“There’s a vibrator in the drawer of my bedroom.  Go get it and pleasure me.”
And that set the tone for the rest of the evening.  Julie used me a sort of robotic sex toy.  I licked her. I vibrated her.  I rubbed her. I gave her a foot massage.  I rubbed her shoulders.  I made dinner.  I made drinks.  And every hour or so, when I switched out the alligator clamps for the vibrating ones, she’d make me stand in front of her, hands behind my head, while she slapped my bosom back and forth a few times, just to keep the discomfort of my earlier breast spanking alive.  I was exhausted by the time I finally crawled into Julie’s bed, our naked bodies twining, holding each other for comfort.  My last thought was the idea that before she went to work the next day, I should cut out a couple of triangles and a silly mouth out of black construction paper and glue it to the back of her orange hair.

Julie was not amused when I woke her up at five the next morning asking for the key.  She grumbled something, nodded, and went back to sleep.  I took advantage of her attitude to take care of my personal needs, put the vibrating clamps on, and then escape.  I hadn’t brought a change of clothes, or my duster, so I about froze my little ass off getting out to the truck and I was shivering violently before the truck’s heater kicked in enough to warm my mostly exposed breasts.  I drove to the farm and snuck into the house.
I got rid of the “NHPS Casual” clothes Master Matt had been so gracious enough to provide me and got into something more practical.  Jeans covered my butt and warmed my legs, while a bra and tee shirt held and concealed the vibrator clamps, which I left on and on.  Then I went back downstairs, headed out to the barn, and took care of things.
Most of my morning was spent trying to avoid my mother. If you stood close to me, hearing the vibrating anal plug wasn’t that much of a stretch and the last thing I wanted was THAT conversation.  So I became something of a hermit and sat up in my room writing.  Aren’t you glad?  I even begged off lunch, claiming I was working on something and would eat in my room.  I suspected my dad knew what was up, and probably would have even been able to make an educated guess, but I didn’t give him the opportunity to enjoy my discomfort. 
I left before dinner, around four in the afternoon, much to my mother’s consternation, especially since I’d been out all evening the previous day, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.  I was full to bursting and I hurried to Julie’s place again.  I took along a bag of clothes and one other implement I knew I’d need before the night was done.
As expected, Julie’s greeting involved the violent impact of her palm against the sides of my breasts and then, just to cap it all off, she actually flicked her forefingers against my nipples, leaving me grimacing in pain, cupping my breasts, and leaning against the wall.  Then she let me have the key and I ran to the bathroom.
Dinner was abusive.  Especially to my breasts.  It seemed that every sauce had to be smeared on my nipples and then tasted.  Every utensil had to be dug into the tender tips.  The only thing she didn’t use on me were the knives.  Thank God.  I have to admit that cooking with her was fun. I got to tell her what to do and she stood there naked from the waist down and I finger fucked her and flicked her clit while she tried to follow my directions.  It was much more pleasant than getting nipple tortured myself. 
What were we waiting for?  The end actually.  The whole point of Master Matt’s punishment was to drive me sexually crazy without giving me the wherewithal to cum.  And he’d succeeded masterfully.  I was going nuts, the buzzing in my ass just enough to make me sexually tense without giving me even a shred of satisfaction.  The abuse of my breasts was just varied enough to excite me and hurt me, making me vacillate but still not quite enough to send me over the edge without carnal stimulation.  It was an itch I couldn’t scratch.
I had begged Master Matt to let me cum since I was wound up so much.  He asked “what’s a wound up Bre like?”    
 A wound up Bre would like to turn the vibrator on in the vaginal phallus, and possibly even the clitoral bump.  Or better yet, take off the chastity belt and masturbate and go have some sex.  But I understand the point is to punish me.  It's just I can't quite cum from just the nipple torture and anal vibrator.  It's driving me absolutely bonkers.”           
And that was that.  Master Matt explained how to “remove” the chastity belt and when seven o’clock finally rolled around I looked over at Julie.  She was dressed in a mixture of punk rocker and Goth girl and looked like a cross between a vampire and a hooker.  And there was a definite similarity between her and the headless horseman, at least in color.  It was a good Halloween look.  I had of course once again attired myself in “NHPS casual”, though this time I brought my duster.  We looked like an unlikely pair.
I sat down on the couch, spreading my legs with a desperate look.  “Turn them up for me?” I asked.
Julie picked up the key and bent down, and even went so far as to unlock the cover that provided access to the vibrator controls.  Then she stopped and locked it back up.
“If I turn them all on now, you won’t make it ten steps.  That’s not good.  Suffer some more.”  She straightened.
“But Julie!  I’m supposed to have them on at full power and then find a guy who…” she cut me off with a wave of her hand.
“I don’t care about that right now. So let’s go.”
I stood up and followed her, grumbling slightly.  I had so wanted to cum. I was so desperate.
We took Julie’s beat up Ford Focus and I admit I was a little nervous in it.  There were band stickers and marijuana logos on it and frankly it looked like one of those cars you see burning in apocalyptic movies.  Julie drove us out of Katy and toward downtown and about forty minutes later we pulled up in front a fashionable club with flashing neon lights and a parking lot packed with cars.
I turned scarlet. This hadn’t been what I had in mind. 
“What about the chastity belt?” I asked.
Julie grinned.  “Suck five cocks and I’ll turn it up to high for you.”
Well.  Shit.
I followed her into the club.  Either the bouncer knew Julie or he wasn’t about to eject two girls, one of which was dressed like a hooker on steroids.  I’m going to admit that if I hadn’t been pumped up on sexual need, even vicarious need, I would NEVER have gone into the place. It reeked of marijuana, sweat, alcohol, and my head swam from the fumes.  The lights in the place ranged from blue to red to black and the thumping base of the music almost instantly threatened to give me a headache.
Julie seemed to know her way around and I realized I’d been to this club before, a little over a year before.  I recognized the booths that surrounded the back of the room.  I turned this way and that and then this guy was standing there in front of me, wearing nothing but a pair of black leather pants, combat boots, and a silver necklace.
Oh my.
He grabbed my waist and in seconds I was standing opposite on the dance floor.  He began to gyrate wildly, moving me in time with his hands on my bare waist.  What could I do?  I danced with him, the vibrator clamps bobbing with our movement.
It also became very clear from his widening grin that NHPS Casual Wear is not appropriate for dancing.  Especially the top.  The halter slid up, exposing the points of my breasts as well as the provocative nipple clamps.  In seconds I was something of a centerpiece and a widening circle appeared around me as everyone started to notice the redhead lunatic girl with a pierced and padlocked nipple, with her halter top up, wearing vibrator clamps, swinging her barely clad hips.
The vibrator in my ass made dancing sweet.  I highly recommend it.
When the song ended I went back to the shirtless guy and put my mouth in to his ear.  “I WANT TO SUCK YOUR COCK!” I shouted, since both of us were partially deaf. His smile got bigger and he took my hand and dragged me off the dance floor. I didn’t see Julie anywhere, but I didn’t care.  I was pulled to a back corner, pushed to the ground, and then Mr. Leatherpants unzipped the front of his trousers, and pulled out his thickening cock. He wasn’t wearing underwear.
I devoured him.  I ravished him.  I swallowed him.  I ate him.  I did practically everything possible to his cock considering the time and tools I had on hand.  And he responded predictably.  In just a little over ten minutes of concerted sucking I had him gasping, one hand wrapped in my hair, skull fucking me in desperation.  I felt him jerk, his cock hardening and then loads of white cream shot into my mouth.  I choked until I got it under control, swallowing hard and fast, trying to take it all.  Finally he softened and I let a little trickle come out of my mouth. I wiped it away with the back of my hand.
His eyes were glazed and I stood.  He blinked as I left him, totally flabbergasted that I’d just stand up and go right back out to the dance floor. In seconds I had picked guy number two.  And it was that easy.  I was heady, lost in the daze of smoke and power and sex and the taste of cum.  Guy number two was replaced by guy number three, who was replaced by guy number four and then guy number five.  I wasn’t picky either.  It was first cum, first serve and I made it clear that I didn’t care about weight, or size, or race.  And when I came up for air after number five, there was clearly a line, waiting for their chance with me.
Except some cut.  Orange hair flashed and Julie moved to the front of the line, holding up a key.  “Up on the table, Bre,” she shouted at me, her words almost lost in the heat of the music.  I clambered up, the guy who’s dick had just been my mouth sitting there somewhat confused, if sated.  I spread my legs toward Julie, who unbuttoned my shorts, tugged them down off my ass, and then unlocked the cover of my chastity belt.
Then… then my world exploded.  She started with the anal vibrator, turning it to maximum.  Then the vaginal probe roared to life, the first movement my desperate sex had felt in over twenty four hours.  Then, just to make sure that I’d be cumming in seconds, she turned the last motor to full, the little rubber coated bump that pressed against my clit.  Then she locked it all back up.
I didn’t even make it off the table before I was screaming in release.  It felt so good. So amazing.  It was such a relief.  I had the taste of cum in my mouth and my nipples burned and ached and my body tensed and pulsed and popped like a shaken can of soda.  And after I screamed out in pleasure and was pulled to my feet, I couldn’t even stand.  I was held up, my halter top yanked from over my head, and passed around like a crack pipe.
I felt hands roaming over me as I came out of the orgasm induced euphoria.  I struggled toward clarity and I realized that I was going to cum again.  The vibrations were still a current of force that swept me away and being multi-orgasmic as I am, I was in some guy’s arms as I shuddered violently, my hands between my thighs, crying out in what was clearly sexual bliss.
When I came back to my sense, Julie was there.  Her eyes were bright and her lips were wet.  She leaned down.
“WANT IT TO STOP?” she asked.
I looked up at her.  “NO!” I shouted.
“IN THE CAR!” I shouted back, “IN MY BAG.”
“I’LL GO GET IT!” she said in reply and then disappeared.  
That’s when I realized that what she was doing was worse than punishment.  I looked around.  There was still lots of interest and despite the fact I had just finished orgasm number two and was clearly on my way back up the hill toward the pinnacle for climax number three, I grabbed hold of the nearest guy, grinned at him, then dragged him back to one of the booths.
Admittedly, I’m not sure I did as good a job.  I was distracted, cumming again before he did.  The same went for number two (or seven, depending on how you’re counting.)  By guy number three my jaw and tongue were aching badly and my clit was starting to get over-sensitized.  That of course just made it hurt, which actually turned me on more.  I got through guy number three though and was midway through the fourth (or ninth) guy before I popped again, this time pulling back to grit my teeth through the irritation being applied to my clit.
Guy five (or ten) let me work my magic and he popped before I had a fourth orgasm, cumming in my mouth and then yanking back to spray my bare breasts.  I lapped up the cream, licking and sucking my fingers hungrily, every inch of me playing the part I had been forced into.  I was a slut.  A nympho humiliation pain slut.  My pussy tightened around the vaginal probe and my hands came up, twisting the alligator clamps. 
And then Julie was there, once again riding to my rescue.  She had my shorts in one hand, my halter top in the other, and then was on her knees, unlocking the chastity belt.  We were at the back of the place and there was a solid crowd around us, a clear space of about five or six feet wide, watching.  I saw cell phones taking pictures and ducked my head so my hair hung in front of my face.
Julie pulled the chastity belt away from me, the sucking sound of its probes lost in the beat of the music.  The lights flashed, I groaned, and the crowd screamed as they saw what I’d had stuffed up inside me.  If only they’d known I’d been tormented with that thing for two days.  Julie patted my hip and pushed me back on the table. I laid down, stark naked, staring up at the lights.  They blinked and flashed and I felt hands on my knees, pushing my legs apart.  Julie pulled my leather sap out of her belt and held it up.  There was screaming and yelling and then that bare chested guy with the leather pants was there, dark eyes flashing, his latino coloring dark in the weird lighting of the club. 
Someone started chanting and then the sap landed on my sex. I felt fluids splatter and I cried out in both ecstasy and agony as the pain blistered through me.  My bottom came up off the table and my right foot kicked out, only to be caught in a vice-like grip.  I was held apart as blow after blow landed between my legs.  Julie stood there, cheering and encouraging, nodding over and over.
I lost it. Can you imagine? It was like all of my dreams coming true all at once. Over-stimulated, mind-blasted, desperate, in public, humiliated, and pussy whipped?  Is it any surprise that I had another orgasm, a mind-blowing one that sprayed my boytoy with my juices?  And when it was over Julie stood guard, pushing my shorts back up my legs, telling the rest of the folks to buzz off.
I might as well have been drunk, or drugged.  All I remember is Julie and Mr. Leatherpants walking me back to Julie’s Car.  I remember being draped over the hood and then Mr. Leatherpants was driving his hard shaft into me, the crotch of my cut off Daisy Duke shorts, shoved out of the way. I didn’t even respond.  I was too far gone.  To exhausted, to blasted to care.
Julie drove me home, leaving my truck at her place, and even helped me into the house and up the stairs to my room.  It was around eleven o’clock and she tucked me naked into bed.
“Stay,” I whispered, holding out my hand.  My bed is big enough.
Julie smiled down at me, ran her fingers through my hair.  “Bre, I would.  But it wouldn’t be good for you.  You’ve got to sleep.  I should too. I’ve got to open the store tomorrow.”  She leaned down.  “And if I stayed, I’d want to spank those soft breasts of yours until you were crying,” she whispered.
Then she kissed me on the forehead and headed for the door.  “I’ll see you tomorrow though.  I’ll pick you up after work.  Got to get your truck, right?” she said.
I nodded, already half-asleep.
She sighed. “And I’ll just spank the shit out of you then,” she whispered, not thinking I’d hear it. 
But I did.
And know what?
I didn’t care.    

Breanne Erickson is the author of the popular BDSM Series "Tales of A Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut", available from Barnes and Noble and  Check out her work at!   



    This image/What/video/from?

  2. I'm afraid I have no idea. I found it on tumblr as well. Generally either Breanne or I try to find suitable pictures to accent her blog posts, since a picture is worth a thousand words. Sometimes it's a trial. Sometimes we're successful.


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!