Slippery When Wet

             

   The looks we were getting were actually kind of nice and I couldn’t help grinning as Kari and I walked into the mall together for one of her usual mind-blowing shopping trips.  For a girl who makes six figures each year, window shopping with Kari is sort pointless, since when she sees something she likes in a window, she immediately wants to go try it on, and if it works, she buys it.  On the flip side this is usually how I replenish certain parts of my own wardrobe, since I can’t afford ninety percent of the stuff she buys me anyway.  I’m the kind of girl who, by economic circumstances, would buy my panties in a pack at Wal-Mart.  Kari on the other hand makes sure I’ve always got Victoria’s Secret.  It makes a girl feel kind of special, ya know?

                When I arrived at Kari’s place that afternoon I was dressed in my usual attire; blue jeans, tee shirt, and boots, not to mention a pair of bra and panties that had been purchased at Wal-Mart.  What?  I’m a working girl!  A farm – not a street!  Have you ever tried BLEACHING a pair of Victoria’s Secret panties?  And let me tell you spending the entire morning dealing with cows, a rogue emu, and several horses, along with a pair of ben wa balls stuffed inside me and making every step a sexual event – well, I’m not sure fancy panties would have survived.

                Kari had stripped me, bustled me into the shower, and when I emerged clean and sweet smelling thanks to the hundred bottles of whatever body lotions, salts, washes, exfoliants, and God knows what else is sitting in her shower stall, I found a summer dress waiting for me on the bed that made me smile.  I like summer dresses.  They match me style.  So after I blow dried my hair and fought a war with it using only a brush, I slipped into the dress and then buckled a pair of white leather strap high heels on.  I looked – stylish for a change, rather than slutty.  The hem came down mid-thigh, the collar was low but not overly revealing, and the white material of the dress wasn’t actually see-through.  Sure, it was tight enough across the bosom that you could see the bumps of my nipples, and that made the right breast very intriguing thanks to the padlock that was dangling from my piercing, but all in all I was more than happy about going out wearing that dress.

                Kari didn’t dress up for our outing, which meant she was wearing a four hundred dollar dress that hugged her curves, didn’t reveal a damn thing, but would excite the imagination of every male, and quite a few females, within a hundred feet.  It was red. It was slinky.  It was very Kari.  She wore black heels with it and looked very confidant, dominant, and powerful.  That’s when I realized that my attire was more a statement of demeanor than even wearing bondage cuffs would be.  When people would see us together, they’d see her first, tall, blond, dominant in every way, wearing power colors.  Me?  I would be cute and beautiful, but wearing something that said “innocence” and “sweet and good,” even though technically I’m not sure I qualify.  Everyone would know I was the submissive within four seconds of looking at us.

                Okay, I didn’t mind. Not really.  And I enjoyed the looks we got as we entered the mall.  Kari hadn’t taken out the ben wa balls, leaving them to roll inside me with every step.  To be honest, I’d already cum several times that day from the stimulation, so I wasn’t terribly desperate, but I suspected that it wouldn’t be long before I had another burst of sensation coming up from between my legs.

                “Ann Taylor first,” Kari said briskly and then we were off.  I hurried after her, both of us chatting amicably though I was positive the quick pace she set was designed to get me wet even faster.  It took about five minutes or so to get to the clothing store and then she ran me through a whirlwind as we tried on a number of outfits, both of us in the same changing stall.  Finally Kari had selected two blouses after getting my opinion in the privacy of our little cubicle, when she suddenly put her hand under my dress and slipped her fingers up between my legs.  She hadn’t included any panties with my outfit, so I was al natural underneath.  I gasped as she worked her finger through my petals and up to my clit.

                “Slippery when wet,” she whispered.  “Are you horny?”

                I nodded stupidly, like I usually do when someone has got their hand down there. 

                “Good.  Our next stop is on the other side of the mall. I expect you to orgasm before we get there or you’ll have to endure the consequences.”

                That made me blink.  Sure, thanks to a five and a half month long vacation from keeping toys inside me, ben wa balls had the ability to force me to orgasm, but it wasn’t easy. I’d had maybe three all day.  A brisk walk, even after her fingers had slipped through my slit, wouldn’t easily push me into orgasm. 

                But hey, I like to rise to a challenge! I nodded, not bothering to ask what the consequences were.  This was Kari. I trusted her.  I knew her.  So once she pulled her finger clear of my wetness, and sucked the juices off her own finger, I followed her out of the stall, over to the register, and eventually across the mall.  I tried to emphasize my steps, and to take little ones, motions intended to make the ben wa balls roll more.  It worked to an extent. I was certainly horny as heck and I could feel the wetness between my legs, threatening to burst like a squeezed grape, but I was just shy of what she wanted when we stopped at the new store.

                Again we went through the process of shopping and again Kari found something she wanted.  And again we had to both go into the dressing room.  After trying on the skirt, one that would match both of the new blouses she had purchased, she looked at me with intense eyes.

                “You didn’t cum,” she said.  It was a statement, not a question, though how she would have been able to tell if I’d had a little one I have no idea.  She opened her purse and my eyes widened when she brought out the clamp.  It was a duck-billed kind, with soft rubber tips, which I was immensely grateful for, but what concerned me the most was the fact that there was a round, plastic, egg shaped object hanging from the clamp.  A small switch at the bottom made it clear that the vibrator, which was the size of my thumb, was going to be intense.

                Kari sank to her knees and pushed me up against the wall of the changing room as I lifted the hem of my skirt and spread my legs.  I was wet alright.  There was a sheen on both my inner thighs.  Kari didn’t waste time either.  She flicked my clit twice with her finger (which almost made me cum right then and there) and then carefully clamped my clitoral hood, attaching the vibrator clamp to my sex with deft hands.  I groaned, my knees twitching and then she turned on the vibrator, stood up, and put her hands on my shoulders.

                “We’re heading to another store.  You are NOT to cum.”

                I blinked.  “What?” I gasped, my hips already twitching madly.  The ben wa balls had made me wet.  The vibrator was like a heavy rain up river, causing a flood.  Eventually the damn was going to burst.  Soon.

                I swallowed. “Kari, I’m not sure I can handle this,” I whispered, the tension in my voice quite apparent.  I could feel the orgasm building. It was coming.  And it would be a doozy.

                Kari shrugged nonchalantly.  “If you cum before we get to the next store, there will be consequences for disobeying me.”

                I stared at her, then nodded.  Okay.  So if that’s how she wanted to play it.  I know when I’m being set up.  She wanted me to cum.  That’s why I was being given a difficult task that she knew I wouldn’t be able to handle.  I was being played.  So I only made a token effort to not orgasm.  I followed her out of the changing room, back up to the register so she could pay for the skirt, and then out into the mall.  We’d only made it half-way to our next destination when I couldn’t take it anymore.  I stumbled to a halt, gasping, my hips twitching madly, my teeth clenched shut as I endured the orgasmic bliss as quietly and still as possible.  Even then I drew attention. I probably looked like I was having a seizure or something.  Kari waited patiently for me to finish, eyes bright, and then she took my arm and helped me stumble along in a sexual daze, the vibrator still buzzing along at full power.

            

    In the next dressing room Kari turned to me and pulled the summer dress down off my shoulders, exposing my breasts.  A small pair of those elastic nipplebands emerged from her purse and after tweaking the tips of both breasts for thirty or so seconds, she slipped them on me.  Talk about an intensifier.  Thanks to the vibrator still swinging from my clit I was already on edge, even after the first orgasm.  The little elastic clamps did two things.  One, it made more of my body respond to the sexual impulses going on between my legs, and second, after my dress was pulled back up, emphasized the hard bumps.  Sexy and stylish was starting to look just a little sluttier. 

                “Don’t cum,” was all she said to me.

                Again we walked, though now I was admittedly having problems.  Kari was having me hold half her bags, which I used to sort of conceal the involuntary thrusts of my hips as my lower half tried to fuck the combination of ben wa balls and clitoral vibrator.  My nipples didn’t throb. They tingled.  And considering the intensity of that sensation you can probably imagine that my thighs were becoming slippery under my skirt.  Sure enough, I didn’t make it and once more I stumbled to a halt, eyes closed, mouth opened in a quiet moan, my hips jerking.  I was making a scene and Kari just stood there in satisfaction, watching my body twitch in prurient fascination.

         

This tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's Blog, but can be found in its entirety in Breanne Erickson's latest novel, "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 9"!  Stop by Amazon.com today to pick up your copy!

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