Slap

Slowly I trudged up the stairs, the patter of rain striking the umbrella I held above me.  It was three flights, three very long flights and I wasn’t exactly feeling sprightly and limber.  A whole host of minor but serious aches spread through my body, most of them radiating out from one certain point.  Each step felt as if I’d been beaten repeatedly, and though those pains weren’t in my arms or legs they might as well have been.  I felt that worn out.

Finally I reached Julie’s door.  I hadn’t told her I was coming over but I had a feeling she wouldn’t be surprised to see me.  It was just before nine in the evening and the clouds had made everything darker.  I knocked, finally under some cover, and I shook the water from my umbrella as I waited for her to answer.

She was dressed in a short black shift of loose material held up by a pair of spaghetti straps that crossed her shoulders.  Julie is inordinately skinny.  Not like healthy skinny, but like anorexic skinny.  It’s not that she has an eating disorder.  She doesn’t.  She actually eats way more than I do.  She’s just got one of those metabolisms that leave her looking like a skeleton.  I’m always worried that when I get on top of her I’m going to break a hip.  One of hers.

Julie was barefoot too and I’ve got to say that while Julie is too thin, she blows the cuteness meter out of the fucking water.  She’s adorable.  Thick, dark chocolate hair, this perfect face that’s half heart and half circle, with wide eyes and this pert nose make for some compelling attraction. Julie looks at guys and even though she looks like a bundle of sticks they want her.  It’s kind of cool actually. I totally understand. I want her too.

She stepped back to let me in but didn’t say anything. As the door closed behind me I grabbed hold of the bottom of the tee shirt I was wearing. It wasn’t anything special but I’d picked it specifically because it was too big.  I tugged it up over my head and both of my breasts came free of the material. My right nipple, as usual, sported the gold hoop piercing and the small, charm-sized padlock that symbolized my submission to a mistress of the Society of the Golden Rose, a group of lesbian BDSM dominatrixes that lived in the Houston Area.  I’d worn the padlock and piercing for years, a constant weight that sometimes drove me nuts, but that evening it wasn’t even registering on my radar of complaints. No, it was the steel alligator clamp I’d clipped behind the piercing, biting into the tender and sensitive flesh of my nipple that hurt.  And it wasn’t like that clamp was alone either. The tip of my right breast was in the same situation, granted without the piercing and weight. A second alligator clamp, the teeth digging into the pink circle and raised bump as if I were a wildebeest at an African watering hole encountering a Nile crocodile.

I tossed the shirt to the side, which left me standing in front of Julie with nothing on but my blue denim skirt.  Now that we were inside there was a tiny humming sound that I could hear well and Julie glanced down to my hips with a slight smile. She nodded and I sighed, but my fingers found the fasteners for the skirt and a moment later it too dropped to the floor. Wrapped around my waist and thighs were a number of black Velcro straps. A small pink control pad the size of an egg was tucked into one of the straps and this in turn led to another pink colored box, this one held nestled against my very wet and tender sex, spreading the petals delicately.

The rest of Breanne's amazing tale is no longer available here on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog. You CAN find out what happens though, by reading Breanne's "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 11," now available from Amazon.com!