Saturday, March 26, 2016

Finger Puppet

I stared out the window as I bent over the desk. The view was admittedly impressive, with half of Houston’s skyline showing from horizon to horizon. We were high up and the late afternoon sun flashed on mirror-like glass, giving the darkened office a sort of golden hue. The desk itself was cherry, or at least the veneer was that color. I had a strong suspicion that underneath the facade of hardwood was the typical pressboard that so much furniture is made of these days.

“My God, you look amazing,” Jason said, running his hands over my bottom. My skirt had been tossed over one of the arm chairs just a few feet in front of me, right next to my blouse, which had been pretty much all I was wearing unless you counted the blue open toed, stiletto style sandals I was standing in, or the vibrating clamp that was dangling from my clit. I could feel it rumbling against my thigh and there was even a tiny clatter as it shifted against the edge of the desk.

My breasts were pressed against his desk calendar, somewhere between Easter and Good Friday, the pair of steel clover clamps that were attached to each nipple bent upward painfully, the chain slack and stretching all the way up to St. Patrick’s day. I shifted momentarily, spreading my feet just a bit more as his hands roamed over my rear end, fingertips gliding through my opened thighs and fluttering delightfully across my petals. I didn’t moan with the pleasure of it, but only just. I didn’t want to confuse Jason and I needed his attention fixed on the right hole. The small bottle of baby oil I’d purchased from the drug store sat on the desk next to me and he picked it up.

“You’re so wet, you don’t really need this,” Jason said, his fingers playing with my petals. This time I couldn’t hold off and I groaned, my hips doing this little dance. I was so wet and desperate that my pussy was practically dripping.  I glanced back at him and swallowed hard.

“Yes, but I think the oil will feel better,” I said, pitching my voice high for the cuteness factor. “And imagine what it will feel like when you fuck me if you’re all oiled too?”

Jason grinned, clearly liking that idea. He popped open the cap and a moment later I felt a trickle of oil at the top of my bottom. It seeped down through my buttocks and even though it meant putting more pressure on my boobs, I reached back with both hands, grabbed hold of my own ass, and pulled on my cheeks. I felt Jason’s finger almost immediately, spreading the oil around the small, brown button of my back door. I took a few deep breaths, trying to brace myself, to relax, and Jason’s finger dipped in, spreading my bottom. It felt good actually. There are a ton of nerves there and when you’ve got a fricking vibrator attached to your clit, and your horny as fuck, and your nipples are tightly pinched between the steel pincers of a pair of clover clamps, bent ninety degrees upward, having someone lightly swirl the pad of their forefinger around your bottom in a non-oral simulacrum of a rim job, well… I’m sure you can understand the rise in blood pressure, or my panting groan. Jason certainly interpreted the movement of my hips properly and he sank his finger in up to the first knuckle, curling it slightly.

I tightened once, accidentally, but Jason didn’t seem to mind. As soon as I relaxed he began pumping, pulling his finger completely out, rubbing the outer rim again, only to push it in just a little deeper. Soon I had him up to the second joint, a full three inches of his forefinger buried in my ass, feeling him curl it, stroking the insides of my bottom. I whimpered, my hips twisting and thrusting and I grit my teeth. Fuck. I was going to cum and I wasn’t supposed to. Not again. When was I going to learn?

Jason pushed his finger in deep and began the piston like movement in and out. It was intense and insane and totally overwhelming. I’m usually not a fan of anything anal, but this… this was so damn perfect. My body trembled with the pressure as I tried to hold off, Jason’s finger sinking in and the coming out. The vibrations combined with the pleasure and I clenched my jaw, trying not to cum. I shut my eyes, thinking back to that morning…


“Feel good? Yes?” Jose asked me, his hand slapping wetly against the splayed and open petals of my slit. His middle finger was extended in a rather rude gesture, but since the offending digit was buried inside my pussy, wriggling around with rather frantic movements, I was disinclined to be offended. Besides, if memory serves, the official interpretation of that particular gesture is “fuck you.” And I was certainly getting fucked. My skirt was bunched up around my waist and the white and blue blouse I was wearing, the one with the plunging V neck collar, had been tugged to the right, freeing my pierced and padlocked nipple. I groaned, panting hard as I kept one hand on the folds of my skirt, the other jammed into my shirt, pinching my left nipple hard. My back was to the wall, the cold tiles only barely keeping me upright.

“Oh yes, Si!” I moaned. Jose’s grin was huge and he picked up the pace, making my entire body quiver. His finger curled and swirled inside me, but in all honesty it was the smacking of his palm against my clit that drove me over the edge, leaving me gasping as the orgasm gushed wetly between my legs. I grabbed hold of his arm, his wrist still working me, and held on, my toes curling in the sandals I wore. My skirt fell down and I could feel the wetness leaking down my thighs. I managed to stop his hand from moving, but his finger continued to wriggle inside me like a snake and I whimpered. My heart hammered against my chest and I put my head down on his shoulder until finally he disengaged, pulling his finger out of me, leaving me slumped against him.

“Es good? Yes?” He asked me again.

I nodded with a slightly breathless laugh. I picked my head up with a smile, my left hand going down his arm until I found his wrist. I pulled his fingers up to my mouth and watched his eyes widened as I slurped the goo covering his middle finger right off the digit. Of course that was just a mask as I put my hand on the firm bulge in his pants. Our eyes met and I gave him a smile that would have stiffened a wet noodle. He grinned again and I stepped back long enough to push the elastic waistband of my blue pleated skirt to the ground. Jose was already unbuckling his blue jeans when I plucked the condom out of my purse and when I sank to the ground, getting on my knees, he knew exactly what to do.

I’m a talented cock-sucker and I had Jose in my mouth for less than three minutes. I could tell we were getting close and I pulled back and quickly bent over the sink, wiggling my rear end at him. I watched him in the mirror as he moved behind me and quickly slipped his cock into my wet depths, plunging hard and fast, fucking me with rapid thrusts. It felt amazing to have him in me like that, the thickness of his manhood a stark difference from his curling middle finger. I felt my pussy tighten, reacting to the stimulation with predictable results, and while I wasn’t catapulted back up the mountain toward a second orgasmic climax, I certainly felt the pressure of sexual need build. My sweet little pussy clutched at his throbbing prick until he grabbed my hips and jammed himself in hard, over and over, groaning as his own release overwhelmed him.

Afterglow, when you’ve just had wild monkey love in the women’s restroom, bent over a vanity counter, isn’t exactly easy. The moment only last so long and then we’re faced with the consequences of our actions. Jose stumbled back and stripped the condom from his prick and dumped it in the waste bin while I slowly straightened. Our eyes met and the lack of a common language clearly was felt, but I smiled and winked, then picked up my skirt and took it with me into a stall.

I listened to him putter for a moment and while I tried to clean up the excess fluids that had coated my thighs, I heard him leave. I followed a minute or two later, almost bumping my head on an aluminum bar sporting a “closed for cleaning” sign. Jose’s smile was huge and I returned it as I skipped along by him and headed toward the glass door that barricaded the darkened interior of Kari Ander’s interior design offices. I was just in the process of sticking my key in the lock when the boss emeritus herself waltzed into the building.

Her long blond hair streamed down around her shoulders and made the blue dress she was wearing look that much better. Sort of like pairing white gold with… uh… with anything. The skirt came down just to the top of her knees. A wave of material danced around her middle, making the top look like a blouse or tunic. The collar was cut low, emphasizing the perfection of her breasts and the cream expanse of her cleavage made my mouth water.

“Good morning, Bre.” She gave me a warm smile. “And how has your morning been?”

My own grin was more than enough to make her eyebrow go up, but I’m not the kind of girl to kiss and tell. Or uh… well… at least not verbally.

“You’ve already started your assignment?” She asked as we entered the office. I nodded as I started flipping on lights. Kari gave me a contemplative look and the brushed past me, heading for her office. I followed along behind her.

“Did Julie send you a copy of Master Brandon’s assignment?” I asked as she put her purse down. Kari fished out her phone.

“Of course, Bre. Considering you have to find ten different people to slip a finger into your sex, it would hardly be germane if I wasn’t aware of it. Besides, I’m the one who approved for you to do it today. As it is, I have some errands that need attending to. You will be my courier, which will also give you the opportunity to complete the assignment.

I blinked. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. Sure, part of me was pleased because I’d actually have the opportunity to get out. But it also meant that I didn’t have an excuse.

“Furthermore, I’ve made arrangements to pick up Rachel in the event you haven’t completed your full task by three this afternoon.”

“Oh,” I replied, just a little startled. “Thank you,” I said with sincere appreciation. It was things like this that made me love Kari. Besides, Rachel would have an absolutely wonderful afternoon with “Aunt Kari.”

This tale of Breanne's is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM blog but can be read in full in Breanne's "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 14."  Check out the amazing antics of the "goddess of dark erotica." At!

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