Thursday, August 6, 2015


I know. I know. The tale below is... rough. I switch tenses. I parse phrases. I'm... incomplete. I'm sorry. But there was a reason. I didn't think when I wrote this. I felt. I let the memories of what happened move me, motivate me, guide me. I sort of relived it even, in my head, rocking back and forth, stuffed with a double dildo and eating chocolate. It was an experience in and of itself. So I'm sorry that this isn't polished and perfect. Take it as it is. Just like you take me... - Bre

 Sunlight streamed down from above as I fidgeted nervously, my eyes darting left and right as I climbed down the stairs. Behind me the bus rumbled, the heavy diesel engine stinking of petrol and sending a mismatched flurry of vibrations through me until I pulled my hand off the metal rail. For a second I stood still, trying to adjust to the drastic change in temperature, moving from the cold, air conditioned interior of the bus to the humid, hot south Texas summer day. But as much as I wish I could have blamed it, the disparity between where I was and where I’d been had nothing to do with general state of tension.
I spotted my destination almost immediately; a fourteen story office building that I’d been in a few times before, once with my former mistress Kari and once by myself. Gray, professional, and just a little bland, the tenants ranged from a local bank to a few law firms. To be honest, what companies occupied the building had little meaning to me since what I was really interested in was their in-house deli and lobby. The place had been remodeled a year or two earlier and I knew there was comfortable seating in both spots.
Not that I’d be comfortable.
The bus rumbled off behind me and I lifted my right foot to take a step. At the same time I sucked in a breath and held it, trying very, very hard to focus on the simple things; one step, then another. Tension spread throughout my body with such intensity that I thought I was going to start trembling. I knew where it was coming from. I knew it intimately, deep inside. Had I wanted to, I could have relieved myself of the stress. But I also wasn’t permitted that option. And besides, I’d have needed to do it privately, and that was to be denied me.
My hips rolled involuntarily as I swung my other leg forward. I could feel the massive, twelve inch long vibrator moving within me, the off-set motor inside the plastic casement running at a sedate but constant speed. My shaved petals were wrapped around the thing, gripping tightly, trembling and pulsing, squeezing the thick sex toy as if it dropping out might be an option. It wasn’t. The blue jeans I was wearing were tight around my loins and ample ass, belted on with a leather strap two inches thick, sporting a buckle that weight at least three pounds.
I had no control over the vibrator. It was a gift from one of the mistresses of the Society of the Golden Rose, an upscale BDSM club of lesbian women. I was one of the accepted submissives while Julie, my personal mistress, was a member. The vibrator, which I called my “Monster,” could be controlled remotely, via my smartphone and a bluetooth technology. Wireless is a dangerous thing.
So short of me finding a bathroom and removing the twelve inch long vibrating plastic core I had no option but to endure. And endure it I had, all morning. It had gone live at around six am, coming to life with a gentle purr. At the time I hadn’t paid it much mind. It was a minor inconvenience, an annoyance if you will. At least until I’d gone five and a half hours with it on, buzzing away inside me, with no respite.
I took a deep breath, fighting the arousal. It was of little use. I was desperate. I longed to push a hand into my waistband, slip a finger along my clit, or give the tender little nub a decent pinch before grabbing hold of the vibrator and giving myself a friendly little climax to make things go easier. My bottom half was already jerking, moving along at a slightly different tempo than my steps, clearly the impetus of a different beat, going at a faster pace.
The good news was that no one had really noticed. I was hiding the stuffed and tormented nature of my slit by being almost totally unremarkable in other ways. My red hair was partially concealed by a white canvas cowboy hat. My top was a simple yellow oxford, fancy enough for an outing on the town, but also sufficiently thick that no one could see the hard points of my breasts, both turgid nipples caught tightly in small elastic bands. It also meant that thin white cord I’d used to wrap up my breasts into a tight harness was invisible. My blue jeans were standard issue Wranglers, tight across the ass and narrow around the ankle. And footwear? I’d been allowed to eschew the normal stripper shoes I’ve been so frequently attired in, so that I’d feel more “at home” wearing standard cowboy boots.
I might have been noticed because of my red hair, or perhaps being uniquely dressed for where I was, but I doubted that. I was more worried about the book I was holding, a soft paperback, well-used, tucked up under an arm. I focused on the doors fifty feet away. Step, breathe. Step, breathe. My eyelids fluttered as each swing of my hips drove the vibrator deeper, in and out. I could see the desire, the want, even the dark need of it. But I knew what I was doing. A moment later the cool metal of the door was under my fingers. Then I was in the lobby.
Plants. A fountain. Bank on the left. Bland modern art. A number of black leather seats with glass side tables. I strolled over to one of the chairs and sat down, feeling the vibrator jam a little deeper. I sucked in another breath, a wave of pleasure threatening to swamp me, but then I managed to get control. No one noticed. I put the book facedown on the seat next to me, fished my phone out of my pocket, and began typing.
I remember the days when phones were for calling people. Now they are technological marvels. They are cameras. They are telegraphs. They can track your location. They can connect you to information. They can calculate numbers, schedule appointments, check your bank account, and even shop for you.  I think I’ve even gotten a phone call once.
But at that moment I was “texting”, my fingers dancing across the screen. The lobby was busy but other than casual glances, no one was really paying me any mind. Redhead cowgirl? Check. Nothing else to see here. I hit the send button a moment later and waited carefully, wondering just how bad it was going to be. I put my phone down next to the book but to be honest I wasn’t expecting Julie, my mistress, to text me back. Not when there was a much easier, and more direct method of getting my attention.
I’d just picked up the book when the vibrator between my petals went into overdrive. It was so loud I could actually hear it through my denim jeans, buzzing away as if I’d stored a honeycomb in my pussy. I stiffened immediately, my knees coming together as everything from the waist down tightened in immediate desperation. I wasn’t just aroused. I was on edge. I was so close to cumming that my control of the situation was going to last seconds. Not minutes. Which left me with a singular question.
Who would notice?
The flow of traffic was steady, people moving from the elevator banks behind me toward the doors. Occassionaly someone would be going the other way. Casual glance toward me, but little focus. Pretty redhead, all dressed up in cowgirl attire. Ants in her pants? Maybe.
I bit my lip as the orgasm slammed into me, every muscle going rigid. I fought with my vocal chords, since half of me wanted to scream out in undiluted pleasure. The vibrator inside me began pulsing, waves of strange oscillations that didn’t just feel good, but intensified things. I was locked, trembling, the book shaking violently in my hands.
Who would notice?
Finally my body began to respond to something besides sexual imput. I gasped softly, eyes fluttering as my pussy again began a rhythmic tightening and loosening around the Monster vibrator. I put the book down. I didn’t need it quite yet. Instead I grabbed my phone again.
“That didn’t take long,” I typed, with enough misspellings to frustrate a 3rd grade teacher. Thank God for autocorrect. (That’s a change, isn’t it?)  
The buzzing between my legs didn’t lessen an iota. But the pattern changed. It was like waves in a sea, rolling through me, the swirling pulse of the earthquake just became a different shape. I knew instantly that I wasn’t going to be able to handle it for long.
“Enjoy your book,” appeared on the screen of my phone and I struggled to keep my composure. I looked around. Who would notice?
I lifted the book. It had just words on the cover instead of a picture. For good reason. Julie and I had debated about which book to bring. I’d wanted Michael Alexander’s “Challenge of Love”, but Julie had overruled me. That’s why I was carrying around the second novel of Ann Rice’s “Beauty” series.  
I opened to a random page and immediately wished I’d just started at the beginning. Poor Beauty was being used by the Captain in his room, her sweet little delectable pussy slick and hot and open. I wished instantly that I was her, forced to obey, to spread my legs, letting the hard, cold handle of the Captain’s dagger penetrate me just as deeply.
The surge didn’t come from the vibrator. I knew that. It was the damn book. I’m a girl who handles abstract very well. Describe a scene for me and my vivid and lucid imagination will do some amazing things. It was like I was there, bared to the soul, naked and exposed and offering myself up, knowing that I’d be punished later. My sex fluttered around the Monster Vibe as I turned another page. I didn’t even realize I was rocking back and forth, my hips pumping frantically until I noticed the guy standing in front of me, staring curiously.
My eyes widened in total panic and I blushed scarlet. I could feel the heat. I looked away as another surge of adrenaline, the fight or flight option, kicked in. Except I could do neither. There was no way I could run, not with what was going on inside me. There was just no way. So I bit my lip and struggled to hold as still as I could.
He moved on. Evidently time was precious and I let out a tiny whimper. Others were walking past, glancing at me, then looking past me. But I couldn’t hold it in. My sex tightened violently around the Monster vibrator and then my bottom rolled again, totally of its own accord, thrusting forward so that the thick phallus inside me would drive deeper.
I started to pick up the book, my mind going back to poor Beauty and the ravishment and….
I exploded again. I must have looked like I was in agony; eyes closed, strained to the breaking point, trembling against the rush of exquisite pleasure rushing through me. The Monster Vibrator had changed its dance again; a short series of heavy bursts followed by a rolling wave of intensity. It was like being kicked a few times in the crotch, followed by a series of delicate thrusts from a thick, welcome cock.
Who would notice?
A new man was staring at me, his expression between doubt and concern. Clearly there was something wrong with the redhead cowgirl. Was she hurting? Were those tears? And why was she trembling? He took a step toward me, only then noticing the book. The title, in black ink against a cream background. He recognized it. I brought my eyes up, mouth open in a soundless gasp of relief and he paused. Was I really in need? Or just needy? Or just satisfied?
I licked my lips and looked down, opening the book, trying to make it seem like I was fine. I crossed my legs, increasing the pressure on my slick sex with my thighs. I could detect the faint scent of my arousal, already soaking my jeans. The vibrator kept going, shaking inside me. He moved on, shaking his head, telling himself he was wrong about what I was doing. He had to be wrong. Right?
I grabbed my phone again. “Two,” I typed hurriedly. I waited. No response. The Monster Vibe stayed on high. The phone was silent. So I picked up the book again. I’d lost my place. Where was I? Couldn’t think. Couldn’t process. Random page again. Beauty, tied open on the kitchen bread board, white flour under her bottom, Mistress Lockley demanding that she spread her legs or have them spread for her. I’m Beauty, wondering what it would be like to let Mistress Lockley spread my legs. Would she force me into the splits? Punish me even more? Could I handle that? Fear rocked Beauty but for me it was desire, insane and intense and so real that I could practically smell it.
In the book Mistress Lockley bunches up Beauty’s breast and snaps the girl’s delicate nipple with a white leather belt. I so wanted that. Right then. Anyone could have done it. I’d have stood up and unbuttoned the yellow shirt. They would have seen my bare breasts, the small elastic bands on each nipple, holding them taut. My chest seemed to heave and I felt the waves again, smaller this time, less intense, but only because I was tiring. My pussy fluttered around the Monster Vibrator. I braced myself. A third explosion in twenty minutes? I was insane. I didn’t want this. I needed it. I tried to hold off, to pace myself and then silence.
My groan was audible, loud enough for others to hear and a number of people looked in my direction. The Monster Vibrator had gone dead, cut off, a rigid, unmoving pole stuffed up between my aching legs. I shifted, my lower half wanting the tremors to come back, to ramp up, to send me frantic over the edge of the cliff. How could she have known?  Was it just random fate? I whimpered again, clutching at my stomach, leaning over as if I were ill.
“Are you okay?”
I looked up. A man in a cheap suit, red tie, comfortable shoes. I nod frantically. Building security.
“Yes. I’m… I’m fine. Thank you,” I said, trying to assure him. His eyebrow goes up, curious but not skeptical. Not suspicious. I smile again, fear of discovery enough to give me the strength to get past the need. It helps… the vibrator being off.
“All right miss. If you need anything please let me know,” he said quietly. I watched him walk off, but he turns and glances back at me.
“I need something,” I whisper under my breath as he leaves me be. “I need you to take me to a private room, strip me naked, and fuck my brains out.”  No one hears me of course. I can’t have that. I take a deep breath. The vibrator is still silent and slowly I picked up the book. My eyes traced over the words, my mind forming images. Beauty straining as the pain takes her skyward, of the white leather belt snapping into her breasts, one after another, then licking her clitoris into heat. Mistress Lockley adorning Beauty’s body with butter, letting the cat clean it from her sex.

I’m just about to turn the page when the Monster Vibrator comes back on. It starts low but in seconds is roaring inside me. My cry is audible. It turns heads. People are looking at me, wondering. I feel strained to breaking as the vibrator purrs and rumbles and moves inside me. I can’t stop my hips from rolling with each precious second and the top button of my shirt comes loose between my thumb and forefinger before I even realize I’ve done it.
I blinked, totally shocked. Was I about to undress? I shook my head, adjusting, contemplating, analyzing. I needed to get a grip. Forty stupid seconds of peace and here I was, ready to pop again almost instantly? Just as powerfully as before? It was wrong. Just wrong! I braced myself, holding my breath as the waves shot through me, rocking me into instability. Suddenly I knew it was too late. I was going to explode. Again. No way to stop it. My hand came up to my breast, imagining Beauty’s poor nipples being struck by that white leather belt. I pinched myself, hard, with a twist and let out another little cry.
Another bystander saw me. He was watching, eyes bright and astonished. He knew what I was doing. It was obvious. My flushed, frantic face, my heaving chest, my fingers pinching my nipple right through my shirt, even the deep roll of my hips, pumping and thrusting as the vibrator moved within me. Our eyes met and I turned scarlet, humiliated as he grinned. I lifted the book, burying my face in the pages, my pussy still fluttering tightly around the vibrator. I didn’t even realize that the words “Beauty’s Punishment” was even more damning than my physical reactions.
“Having fun?” He asked, coming up to me. I looked up. I’d just exploded but there had been no stopping the Monster Vibrator. I could feel it. I could hear it. He could hear it. My mouth went dry as he cocked his head to the side.
“I can tell you are,” he said softly. His head dipped toward the book. “That’s a good story. I’ve read all three. Do they turn you on?” He asked.
I nodded, still unwilling to speak. He watched me intensely. “So, are you Mistress Lockley, or Beauty?”
My response was breathless, as if I were scared to speak. He nodded with a smile. “That’s what I thought,” he said, then glanced at his watch. “I was heading out for a late lunch. Would you care to join me?” He asked.
I bit my lip. Hesitated. I glanced around. The security guard in the cheap suit was still watching me. People were still walking by. I picked up the book and stood, all of a sudden. I got close to him.
“I uh… I uh… have to stay somewhere public,” I said, the hum of the vibrator loud. I knew he could hear. He had to hear it.
He smiled. “That turns you on, huh?”
“It’s complicated,” I said softly as I looked down. My eyes found my boots. My jeans. The dark wet spot marring the crotch of my pants. It didn’t look like I’d had an accident. It just looked like I was very, very damp between the legs.
Oh my God. I pressed my thighs together, looking back up at him with a horror stricken expression.
His eyebrow went up and he gave me this wry smile. “You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he commented wryly. He held out his hand. “Shall we?”  I took hold of his fingers, holding my book with the other. He led me through the doors and back out into the parking lot. I didn’t say anything, but movement was an immediate issue. He was over six feet tall and I’m short. I also had a violently shuddering foot long piece of plastic jammed up inside me. It forced me into short, stuttering steps. He was patient, clearly understanding that my pace was set not by hesitation but by mechanics.
“What does it feel like?” He asked as we entered the shade of the parking garage. I looked up at him, my face flushed.
“Intense,” I said softly. Actually, it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been sitting there in the lobby. Moving around helped a little bit. Or maybe it was the fact that I wasn’t quite as obvious. I’d also cum multiple times. I wasn’t quite getting used to the purring sensation between my legs, but my body was adjusting.
He led me to a nice sedan, only a year or two old and he paused curiously when I snapped a photo of his license plate.
“What’s that about?” He asked cautiously as I tucked my phone away.
I smiled. “Security. I’m about to get in a car with a strange man. If you take me somewhere and kill me my best friend will be able to give your license plate to the police,” I explained.
He wasn’t happy, but a moment later he shrugged. “I guess it makes sense.”  Then he opened the car door for me and I climbed in. The Monster Vibe dug in deeper, changing angle as I sat down. I let out a groan and couldn’t help it. My hips began pumping again. I realized that sitting was worse on me than standing.
He moved around to the other side of the car and climbed in. “Oh, by the way, my name is Larry. Larry MaGee.”
“Breanne,” I said softly, but with a few other sound effects added in.
“Breanne,” he repeated. “That’s a pretty name. You want to tell me what kind of toy you’ve got in there?”
I nodded, my throat tightening with renewed sexual stress. “My monster vibrator. Twelve inches long, two wide.”
He grinned with appreciation. “I like a girl who can take that sort of length,” he said wickedly, wiggling his eyebrows as if he were implying that his own equipment was of similar length.
At that moment the pattern of the Monster Vibe changed dramatically, from the rolling wave to a series of low and high oscillations that felt more like hard beats on a drum. I let out a shrill gasp, clutching the dash. Larry’s eyes widened.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded, trying to hold myself together. “Different p-p-pattern.”
“Pattern?” He asked, putting his key in the ignition and getting the car started. A puff of air struck me that cooled almost immediately.
I was panting. “The v-v-vibrator is controlled via my phone and bluetooth. Julie is fiddling with it,” I explained.
And so I had to explain that as well. The next ten minutes was excruciating. I explained the sex assignment process, and about my mistress, and about everything. By the time we pulled up into the parking lot of a nice restaurant I was so close to cumming that I couldn’t hold still.
“Having trouble, aren’t you?” Larry asked, watching my body twitch.
I nodded frantically.
“Cum now. Here.”
I swallowed. “I’m supposed to be in public,” I protested.
He waved around the lot. “You are. But I understand what you need.”  He reached over, his fingers against my shirt. Two of the five buttons down the front were already open and a good portion of my cleavage was in view. Larry snagged the third button and I just leaned my head back, closing my eyes, letting him open me up. When I didn’t protest he undid the fourth button. He let out a grunt of appreciation for the rope harness. It did a good job keeping my breasts tight and together. He slipped his entire hand into the opening, cupping my right breast.
“Nice piercing,” he said with a grin as his fingers found the padlock and hoop hanging from my right nipple. He fiddled with it for a moment, then pinched me lightly, giving my nipple a delicate little sideways twist. I cried out, losing it. Then his left hand came down to my pants. He pushed my legs open and I let him, thinking he was going to unzip me. Instead all he did was press his fingers against the wetness of my jeans and rubbed in a circle.
I exploded immediately, intensely, with a cry, one hand up, pressing on the ceiling of his car, the other gripping the armrest with white knuckles. My hat fell off into the back seat.
Larry smiled through the whole thing and when it was clear I was coming back down from my climax he pulled his hands off my body and patted my leg.  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get some lunch.”
I felt strained and stretched. The Monster Vibe hadn’t silenced and I realized that part of the problem was that I’d forgotten to text Julie and let her know that I’d cum. So she was no doubt thinking I was holding out, still seated there on the lobby bench. I bit my lips but nodded to him as he came around and opened my door, then helped me to my feet. The vibrator inside me changed angles again and I let out a pained groan. It felt amazing. I was just thankful it wasn’t clitoral too. Then I’d be getting sensitive as well.
I started to button up my shirt since my breasts were half hanging out, the cordage binding them stark against my skin, but Larry stopped me. “No. I prefer them like that,” he said brusquely. I swallowed and nodded. Conservative Texas cowgirl into slutty bondage cowgirl. Okay. I put my hands down. I left my hat in the car but I brought the book. Larry didn’t object and he took my arm and led me into the restaurant.
The seater took a long look at the excessive cleavage I was showing, but didn’t say anything beyond giving me a little frown of disapproval. Larry either didn’t notice or didn’t care and a few moments later we were seated in a both along the back corner of the place. I sat down carefully, the Vibrator changing angle once more. I pulled out my phone and Larry looked at me.
“Letting Julie know I came again,” I said, typing at the same time.
The response came maybe forty seconds later. The Monster Vibe went silent and then began again, this time at the lowest setting. Julie had set it to pulse again, the speed of the pulses as well as the general intensity increasing little by little. I gave it maybe ten or fifteen minutes before I was right back up to full power, buzzing away like mad.
“It’s a fetching look, you know,” Larry said.
“What is?” I asked softly, still shifting around in my seat. My sex was having these little spasms as it dealt with the delicate reverberation between my petals.
“You fidgeting like that. With the shirt open, your tits all bound up. It’s damned erotic.”
I blushed again and looked down, my bottom lip caught in my teeth. He stared at me then grinned again.
“Flash your breast, the one with the piercing,” he suddenly ordered.
My eyes widened and I glanced around the restaurant. I was sitting with my back toward most of the place, but there was still plenty of traffic and there was a pair of gentlemen in business attire sitting about ten feet away opposite us. They weren’t paying attention though. I took a deep breath, brought my hand up, and pulled me shirt away from my right breast long enough to give Larry a good long look at my nipple, gold piercing, and padlock. The rope was tight around the base, making my boob stand out. Then I covered back up, again with a frantic look around the place. No one had noticed.
“Very nice,” Larry assured me, a smug and satisfied look on his face.  
The waitress showed up a minute or so later and we went through the process of ordering. I didn’t get much; just a salad. It isn’t because I can’t eat with gusto, but I’d already had lunch and so this was sort of an afternoon snack for me. Still, Larry didn’t seem to mind. The moment the waitress had gone he picked up the book.
“Have you read all three?” He asked, referring to the fact that Anne Rice’s novel was actually part of a trilogy. I thought it was a stupid question since I was reading the second book, but I didn’t say that. I just nodded.
“I liked the first one,” I said softly. “The second one is my favorite. The third one I didn’t enjoy that much.”
He nodded. “That’s pretty standard for popularity. I like the second one myself. My favorite scene is menage a troi scene with Lockley, Beauty, and the other slave, all up in Lockley’s bedroom.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about. Mistress Lockely chooses two of the slaves, one of them Beauty, and takes them up to her quarters for some private time. Beauty is positioned against the headboard, kneeling with her legs open while Lockely slides beneath her. Evidently it’s Beauty’s first time being pleasured by another woman.
I swallowed, the memory of Larry’s favorite scene did not help in the least.
“So what’s your’s?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Lots of them,” I said.
He reached across the table and pushed my shirt open a bit more. A flash of gold. I let him, feeling the quivering of the vibrator increase, ever so slightly. My hips rolled again, driving the twelve inch phallus deep. An expression of desperation flashed across my face.
“So… I want to know your favorite scene,” he said wickedly. “Tell me everything.”


An hour later I stepped back into the lobby of the office building. Things had certainly quieted down and the traffic through the cavernous front entry had slowed dramatically. My bench was still there, just out of sight of the courtesy officer’s front desk. I sat down stiffly, trying not to jerk my hips. The Monster Vibe was going crazy, the pattern of vibrations alternating, seeming to roll and twist, oscillating like the analog wave of a roller coaster's height. I found it alarming. I’d had another orgasm during lunch, one that I couldn’t keep quiet, but Larry had found my little whine amusing and it had only drawn a few curious looks. In fact, I’d gotten more attention walking out.
My shirt was almost all the way unbuttoned, a wide expanse of bare skin showed from my throat all the way to my navel, crisscrossed with the rope binding my breast. I had to be careful moving or there’d be a rather titillating nipple slip. In fact, I had a feeling that I was slipping already. At least from the side. A number of men passing through seemed to be halting at the same spot directly to my left. I tried to ignore the stares as I picked up my book, holding it up in front of my face, opening it to a random spot. It was a section about Tristan, one of the male slaves in the book, being given a girl, a delicate beauty bound with her hands above her. I couldn’t help it. I put myself in her place, imagining myself naked, leather cords holding my wrists together, right there in the lobby, naked and standing on the very bench I’d been sitting on. A line would form, men each wanting to have their way with me, allowed to spank and slap, pinch and twist, touch and taste, and then relieve their needs with me.
My breathing got a little heavier and I knew I was getting close again. Ten minutes? That’s all the time I’d been sitting there since getting back from lunch.  Again the involuntary shifting of my hips made it even harder to tolerate the sexual resonance inside me. It was terrible. And amazing. All at the same time.
Larry came in. He’d dropped me off at the front of the building, claiming he wanted to be able to see me sitting there, humiliated and exposed, close to cumming again. His dark hair and winsome smile hit me and I looked away, frightened that I might go to him, or plead. Instead I kept my legs together, moving around like I had ants in pants, fully impaled on the foot long vibrator. He walked slowly and then stopped to my left. He eyes tracked across to my chest and I took a deep breath, making sure my shirt was open enough for him to catch the glimpse he wanted.
Then he laughed, turned and moved on. I bit my lip, my entire body trembling with need and embarrassment and deliberately turned to my favorite scene. And exploded.  


Five hours later I lay on the hard counter, a soft dusting of flour beneath my bare bottom. My hands were bound above my head, secured with the rope that I’d had tied around my boobs not a few hours before. I couldn’t move. Larry stood above me, a wicked look in his eyes. In his hand he held a leather strap. It wasn’t white but I didn’t care. Not at that moment. He leaned over me and I knew exactly what was going to happen. I still needed to hear it though. Mostly because I’ve always wondered. And because it was my favorite scene
He smiled and bent over me and spoke the words I’d been longing, desperate to hear. I’d read the words a hundred times. I knew them by heart. And I wanted them said to me. I wanted to be Beauty.
“Spread your legs or I’ll spread them for you.”

Breanne, isn't life so much fucking 'fun' sometimes, like a mouth full of funnel webs. I'm sure you've missed me, I've been having 'fun' *sigh*. So I'm in a bit of a chill mood, saw what you'd been up to recently, and thought I'd give you an assignment to suit. So your assignment is thus. Read a book for a couple of hours. Easy right? A couple of stipulations:

1. Cowgirl attire, jeans, shirt socks and boots, bind your breasts tightly with rope for support, a cowgirl hat is an optional extra. This is your outfit till you finish the assignment, no changing.
2. Find a public place to read. Lots of business people so you stand out in your cowgirl attire. Maybe Julie could join you for lunch :)
3. Read something that gets you going, I believe you like Felicity Brandon. There is a strong preference that you read a dead tree format book if handy.
4. You will be stuffed with something that vibrates on low from when you wake till the time you start reading, then it goes on high till the end of the assignment. Use the WiFi remote monster dildo, with Julie at the helm, if possible.
5. Get 2 hours relaxing reading time in public in.
6. If you cum before you start reading see Julie for punishment at the end of the day. You may cum as much as you like while reading in public.

Bonus points if you get a bus to and from your reading spot or have a long public walk to the truck.

Matt the CM

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