A Normal Day...

Darkness. I wake up, groaning. It’s too bloody early and the previous evening’s torment at the hands of my sadistic mistress Julie is fresh. Small aches and pains, various welts, the occasional bruise, nipples still throbbing with remembered discomfort, I thrash through my sheets to turn, staring at the clock. It’s only five in the morning. I don’t have to be up until almost seven. I shake my head. Years of waking up before the crack of dawn has made me used to it. I roll back over and close my eyes. There’s only a fifty-fifty chance of getting back to sleep, predicated on the previous day’s toy.

This morning it won’t work. I’m stuffed to the brim with my Husky dildo, a nine inch long rubber cock that is being held in with a pair of cute, pink colored bikini cut panties. My shirt, which barely covers my breasts, leaves my belly exposed. Already my pussy is contracting around the phallus, tightening in rhythmic pulses that will definitely keep me awake regardless of how badly I need or want sleep. Other requirements have been awakened. Eyes closed I slip my hand downward, grazing my nipples, shocked to find them taut and hard. A soft flick followed by a delicate pinch just makes those freshly roused needs that much more insistent, driving me onward.

I slip a hand down between my legs, underneath the cotton, finding the thick rubber base of the Husky dildo. I want to pump, thrusting it in and out, desperate for satisfaction. I push my panties down, almost frantic. I don’t like them around my ankle either. I like having my legs spread during sex, of any kind, widely, achingly open. It’s a fetish perhaps. With a shuddering gasp I draw the dildo almost all the way out and drive it back in. A surge of adrenaline hits my system and just as I’m about to thrust the toy in again, I realize I haven’t checked for my toy of the day. The new one. I snarl an oath and roll back over, snatching my phone off the nightstand. It comes halfway, still connected to the charging wire, and jumps out of my hand to drop directly toward me, smacking me sharply on the nose. I yelp, twisting. The dildo slips out of my sodden slit.

The light is piercing as I scroll through the email. There it is. Julie this time. Sometimes it’s Kari, but usually it’s Julie. I suspect late night calls discussing my daily torment but I’m not sure. Today I’m to wear Kari’s vibrating egg, a vibrator the size of my fist that will fit snuggly inside me. I let out an exasperated sigh. It means Kari will be fucking with the controls all day. No panties either. So I might be allowed orgasm. Or not. Still, Julie never said I couldn’t cum. Nor did she present a cost per orgasm. So that means I’ve got carte blanche. At least for now.

My hand goes for the Husky dildo and I immediately slide it back into the grasping wetness between my legs. It feels amazing, lifting, lightening and my mind goes back to the previous night. Julie stands in front of me, hand raised, slapping my breasts back and forth, my hands bound above my head, legs spread wide as the biting ridge of her wooden pony digs into the softness between my legs. My toes can barely touch the ground and the arches of each foot burn as I struggle to keep myself up. The pony itself is slick, both from my wetness and the oil she’d made me rub into with my breasts. I can’t help thrusting, slinging my hips back and forth as the pain of her palm against my boobs swirls through me into my loins, forcing me to fuck the very thing hurting me between my legs. I shudder, gasping, whining, whimpering, until…

The rest of Breanne's amazing tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog. But don't despair! It can be found in her novel "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 13"!  Check it out now at Amazon.com!

 

Both Ends

The phone rang as I walked down the gravel drive. The bright yellow school bus that I’d just loaded my daughter on was nothing but a dwindling spot on the farm to market road that ran past the southern border of the farm and I felt the cold chill that was only marginally related to the pre-Christmas weather. I looked down at the screen of the smartphone. Kari. Of course. For a second I thought about not answering. Sorry Kari, I was in the bathroom. Or… sorry Kari, I was in the barn masturbating. Or maybe even… sorry Kari, I was trying to explain to my mother why you have me dressing like a professional prostitute instead of a secretary.

I sighed. As if.

“Hello?” I said waspishly into the device. As expected, I heard my best friend, lover, boss, and yes… sadistic mistress, greet me back.

“Good morning, Breanne. Have you already dressed for the day?”

I resisted the urge to say something impolite, but my mouth didn’t get the message until well after I’d already started speaking.  “Hardly,” I said contemptuously. “Considering every outfit you bought me makes me look like a tramp, and I don’t want to explain to my mother why I’m heading to your place dressed like a hooker instead of a secretary. I don’t get ‘dressed for the day’ until I’m in the lobby bathroom there at the office.” It may have come out sounding a bit harsh.

“Oh. Excellent,” commented Kari as if I hadn’t just been incredibly rude to her. She sounded relieved, almost pleased. “Then I’d like you to wear your normal ‘farm’ attire to work today. Blue jeans, panties,and one of those nice button-up overshirts you like to wear. You know, something comfortable.”

I blinked. Then my jaw fell off my face, landed in the dust, and I bent over and picked it up. “Really?” I asked, suspicion overwhelming shock as I manage to put my teeth back.

“Really. We’re doing a tear down today and I want you with me.”

Oh. A teardown. A demolition. That I understood. I just hadn’t known we were doing it that Friday. I wondered how this would affect things, how I’d be treated, or even what my role would be. This would be the first tear down I’d gotten to see. Still, it made sense that I’d wear my usual work clothes. I mean, my former work clothes. A tear down meant smashing drywall and cabinetry, tearing out stucco and brick, and just generally being destructive. It sounded like fun actually.

“Um. Okay,” I agreed, still feeling as if there were a truck heading right for me in the darkness, lights off.

“Good. I’ll see you when you get here,” she said brightly. And that was that.

The good thing was that I didn’t even have to change. I was already dressed in tube socks, boots, blue jeans, a pair of simple panties, not to mention a rather utilitarian bra, a tee shirt, and one of my patented button-up, long sleeve shirts. My duster was wrapped around my torso keeping me warm and I’d even bought a cowgirl hat to keep my crimson locks in order. The idea of being able to work around Kari, dressed conservatively for a change, meant a great deal.

Of course, I’d still have to deal with the “toy of the day,” but I could handle that, right?

Beneath the button of my jeans, tucked under my panties, and strapped to my waist, was a small, purple plastic butterfly. Nestled above my clit, it lay in silence, waiting for someone (probably me under orders) to flip the tiny switch which would activate a mini electric motor, setting the entire device fluttering. Those vibrations would translate directly into the soft and sensitive nub of my clitoris, which would in turn send me into spirals of sexual pleasure until I was cumming in wild abandon. My butterfly stimulator was one of those toys that had a tendency to overload me if used to extremes.

And I’m all about extremes. Especially when I haven’t come in four days.

The rest of Breanne's amazing tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog. But don't despair! It can be found in her novel "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 13"!  Check it out now at Amazon.com!