The Morning

So Master Fred has been getting onto me about not providing as much information about the torments inflicted upon my person. Can you imagine? Here I am, pouring out my soul to everyone, basically letting you read my personal diary, telling my explicit and quite demeaning innermost secrets and he wants more. Well I just have ONE thing to say about that!

okay

I woke up before my alarm went off as I frequently do. The first thing I was consciously aware of was an uncomfortable, thick, somewhat flexible, rod of rubber jammed up inside me sex, held in with a pair of panties that were considerably stretched out from trying to keep the foot long dildo in my pussy through the night. I was also wet. Very wet. Even before I swept my hair out of my face my hips were already rolling in desperation, the expected reaction to a day of mind numbing arousal that resulted in absolutely zero orgasms. Yesterday was a day of edges, the butterfly clitoral vibrator resting on the delicate parts of my sex, buzzing until I was scrambling and whirling along the edge, so ready to pop that a gentle breeze might have done it. Except it didn’t.

I know what you’re thinking. I was thinking it too. I slid my hand down my body, over the already hardening nipples straight down between my legs. I wanted to pull the panties aside, grab the base of the Core Driller dildo, draw a full eleven inches of hard rubber out of my depths, only to drive it back in as fast and as forcefully as possible. Multiple times. I wanted to moan and groan and whimper and whine, pumping until my toes curled and all that was left of me was the sodden and mind-blowing release of orgasm.

But I didn’t do that. Instead I groaned, pressing my thighs together. I rolled out of bed, my tiny night shirt only coming down to my belly button while the panties covered my lower half.

Sorta.

I grabbed my phone and shuffled my sleepy, sexy way across to the door, traversing the hall, and into the bathroom. The dildo came out with a low moan and I chucked the gooey, slimy thing in the sink as I started the water in the shower running. I sat down, checked my phone, and froze.

Yeah. Froze. In total dismay. I could feel the water temperature change from cold to hot and I still sat there, trying to wrap my head around Julie’s required “toy of the day.”

Finally I got up. I showered. I cleaned off the Core Driller dildo. Thirty minutes later, feeling sort of human and still horny as hell, I padded back into my room, my hair and torso both individually wrapped in towels. Another twenty minutes later and I was relatively ready. The Rotating Venus Penis was already waiting for me on the bed, the small but intense four inch phallus glistening with a bit of oil I’d used to lubricate it.

Not that I needed it. Sheesh. I was so desperate.

I strapped it on under my jeans and I had to hold my breath as the RVP’s probe probed my slit. For a second I considered getting dressed, my attire for the day laid out on the bed. But then I realized I was just putting it off. So I sat down, grabbed the controller, and pushed both switches up to full power. The LED lights lit up and the toy inside began to twist, churning around within my pussy Kitchenaid mixer doing cookie batter. The vibrations started, no gentle acceleration, but a full throttle takeoff that left me horizontal on the bed, hands at my breasts, the fingers already pinching my nipples hard. If you’d been there you would have been impressed with my pelvic calisthenics since I did the herky jerk in all its glorious ways. I didn’t last five minutes before I had to let go of one nipple and jam my knuckles into my mouth to keep from making too much noise.

The explosion itself was satisfactory, powered by over twenty-four hours pure denial. Still, I’ve had stronger orgasms; out in public, tied down to a bed while being whipped, that sort of thing. Slowly I sat up as the euphoria subsided and with trembling fingers turned down the RVP. “Five minutes every half hour,” Julie had specified in her text. That meant I had another twenty-one minutes before I had to endure the same sort of intensity again.

But there were consequences.

With a sigh I slid over to the side of my bed and grabbed hold of the other item I’d known I’d need. Evidently orgasm comes at a steeper price than not having one. I lifted up the Titanmen Inflatable vibrating anal plug and began coating it with a decent layer of grapeseed oil. Once it glistened I reached around as I put one bare foot up on my chair, and began sliding it into the one place I was desperate for attention.

My ass.

It went in easily enough. Without any air in it the Titanmen Inflatable Vibrating Anal Plug is nothing more than a pinkie sized tube. Still, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable fit. I’ve never enjoyed having things shoved up my ass, small or large.

I turned it on so that the low level vibrations rocked my rump and I felt a strange sort of tightening in my pussy as my lower half tried to reconcile the new source of sensation. It was erotic, but indirectly, like melting chocolate with a double boiler. There was a heat source, but it wasn’t really close to the pot, if you catch my drift.

I pulled my jeans up over the various apparati that I had plugging my nether regions and it took me a moment to tuck all the various wires, tubes, controllers and pumps away. But eventually I was able to emerge from my room and head downstairs looking reasonably human, somewhat horny, and only a little uncomfortable.

Of course, by that time, it was 6:30am.  As I marched across the gravel lot toward the barn I switched the RVP back on to full power. It spun up inside me, rumbling and swirling, combining with the vibrations coming from my bottom. I had to resist the orgasm. I had to. No choice. The last thing I needed was to let loose and explode again.

I checked the time, swallowed hard, and tried to think about anything and everything but exploding like an overheated volcano. To no avail of course. One explosion just wasn’t going to sate me. Obviously. And dealing with the RVP on full power for a full five minutes was just too much intensity. I leaned up against the wall of the barn, thrust my hips lewdly, and let out a pitiful whine as my second orgasm of the day hit me like a bull.

When I finally calmed down my trembling fingers found the pump for the Titanmen Inflatable Vibrating Anal Plug and with my bottom lip caught between my teeth I gave it one solid pump. I could feel the plug in my ass expanding, getting bigger, but then it settled easy and I tucked the pump away. I took a deep breath and looked at my watch.

Shit. Next vibration session? Fifteen minutes. Brilliant. I called Julie four hours later.

“Hey, princess! What’s up?” she asked.

I stood there, shaking, hurting, not sure of what I was supposed to do.  “Um… I have a problem,” I said, voice wavering.

“What sort of a problem?” She asked. I could hear the keyboard typing in the background. She was at work.

“I uh… um…” stammered. This was a delicate issue. “I’m full.”

“Mmm,” Julie hummed. “Big breakfast?” She asked, obviously teasing me. I groaned.

“No, Julie. The Titanmen,” I said.

She laughed. “I can’t believe it. Last time I used that thing on you I managed to get seven good, solid pumps in there. You’re just not trying hard enough.”

I bit my lip. “Um… I’m at nine.”

There was a long pause. “Nine?” Julie asked in surprise. “What did you do? Count waves?” She was quiet for just a minute. “That’s one past what we decided was the maximum for you, right?”.

“Yes mistress,” I affirmed.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “I see. Evidently the Titanmen was insufficient to motivate you to hold off.”

I groaned. “Julie, I was desperate. You denied me all of yesterday.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Yes. I know. Well, I’m hardly going to let you off easy just because you can’t control yourself. So you will continue the RVP every thirty minutes, except now you need to have the RVP on full, both functions for ten minutes each half hour. Not five. And if you have an orgasm you may let one pump’s worth of air out of the Titanmen.

I groaned. “Julie? It’s just an escape valve? How the hell am I supposed to know what one pump’s worth of air is?” I exclaimed.

She laughed. “Let it all out and then pump it back up to where it’s supposed to be. Duh.”

I bit my lip. Of course. Did she have any idea what that would feel like? Multiple times? “What happens if I have enough to make it shrink all the way? Can I take it out?”

“Why don’t you call me again before that happens. If you have enough orgasms to get to that point, then I’m pretty sure your poor little clitty is going to need some extra special attention.” The tone of her voice froze my blood. I’m glad we had this chit chat, Bre. Talk to ya later!” Julie said, then hung up.

The second I put the phone down I turned the RVP to full power. It was a calculated risk. I understood what she was doing now. She wanted me tender. She wanted me sore. Why? I knew why. But I had to do it, if for no other reason than to get rid of the burning ache in my ass. So despite having cum and cum and cum that morning, I laid back on my bed, pinched my own nipples, and worked myself into another froth. I’m ashamed to say, it wasn’t exactly difficult.

I can’t even begin to describe the relief I felt deflating the Titanmen Inflatable Vibrating Anal Plug. I groaned, whimpered, sighed and basically acted like a fool, enjoying every tingling moment of it. And while I still had it inside my bottom, the sensation of having it fully inflated was now gone. I could appreciate that at least.

At least until I pumped it right back up. With a sigh I grabbed hold of the small bulb on the end and gave it eight good squeezes, pumping the damn thing right back up to “extremely uncomfortable” I pulled my jeans backup and went outside, counting the minutes till my next little bout with the RVP.

Which didn’t come soon enough in my book. I may have started a little early too, sitting myself down on a comfortable bale of hay out in the barn. The plug in my ass dug in deep as I turned up the RVP, my sensitive, tingling clit starting to feel just a little raw under the motorized onslaught of sexual stimulation. The probe churned inside me and with a few carefully placed touches I once again spread my booted heels and slipped a hand into my own pants.

The orgasm was a weak one, despite the abrasive feel of the RVP against my clit. What can I say? I was getting tired. It was just barely three in the afternoon and I’d already had eleven orgasms. Technically I was getting in more than one per hour, which is impressive, even if you’re considering the fact that I was being forced to masturbate every thirty minutes. But while Julie’s point may have been to turn my sensitive bits into mash, my point was to reduce the pressure in my bottom to something reasonable. By dinner time I’d managed to get the anal plug down to a reasonable five pumps and while my clit felt I’d pressed it to a belt sander for an hour, I wasn’t suffering too much. The buzzing of the RVP was still arousing and I was keeping it together. I’d just finished another exhausting ten minutes, my hips grinding, almost cumming but not quite before having to turn off the rotating, vibrating toy when my mother called me down to dinner. With a sigh I buttoned myself back up. The plan was simple. Have dinner with my family, then head out to Julie’s. I suspected she’d have something nefarious planned for my lower half.

 

I went down the stairs and into the kitchen. Gingerly I sat down, which is the only way you can really do it when your rump is stuffed to the brim. My father was already seated, his walker nearby. My daughter was already half-way through her glass of milk, since my mother’s policy (and by default mine) was that you had to drink your glass of milk before you could have soda. She put the broccoli chicken cheese casserole down on the table, along with thick cut slices of homemade bread. It smelled heavenly. We brought our hands together, the four of us, as my father’ prayed. I was just in the middle of bringing that first steaming forkful of cheddar cheesy goodness up to my mouth when my dad glanced at my mother, then looked back at me. His expression was serious, almost dark.

“Breanne, we have something important to talk to you about.”

Breanne Erickson is the author of Coming of Age: A BDSM Romance. Check out Breanne's amazing tales at Amazon.com!