Forgotten Tweets

Friday, May 6th, 2016

“Get up,” she said as she walked into the small lobby. I glanced up in surprise, just a little shocked at the abruptness of her greeting. Usually Kari is one for small talk. “Hello, how are you kitten? Are you nice and wet today?” I blinked at the imperious look on her face. It matched the ivory cream colored suit she wore, right down to the gold and silver thread in the blouse. I stopped typing immediately and stood up. Kari let the door close behind her though she left it unlocked. Then she came over and studied me. I felt like a bug under a microscope.

“What made you select this outfit for the day?” She asked, reaching out to touch the smooth silk of the white shirt I was wearing. I felt her finger slide beneath the translucent material against my collarbone and the buttons, already strained to the breaking point across my bosom, seemed ready to let go. I gave her a slightly incredulous look.

“Because you bought it for me?” I asked, unsure of the answer she was looking for.

“And the skirt?” Her hand slid down to my ass and literally just grabbed me, squeezing my buttock.

I wracked my brains. Why had I selected this skirt? Honestly it was because when I sat down it didn’t flare out leaving my panti-clad bottom sticking to the seat. But I didn’t think “coverage” was an appropriate answer for Kari. Besides, maybe she was starting to suspect that I actually selected each day’s outfit on a “least inappropriate scale.” Mondays are relatively benign, with me just looking like an over-sexed secretary. But as the week progresses I run out of the few “barely” acceptable shirts and skirts I own. By Wednesday I’m pretty much looking like a street hooker.

You should see what I wear on Fridays.

Her hand went up the back of my skirt, touching my bottom and she found the thong that was wedged up deep into the crack of my ass. Her probing fingers slid forward as she bent over slightly, finding the circle imprint of the vibrator that was currently filling my depths. She pushed on it slightly, eliciting a small gasp from me.

“I was just checking,” Kari said primly, drawing her hand out from underneath my skirt.

I blinked. “Checking?” I asked in bewilderment.

She smiled. “You forgot to post your toy of day.”

My mouth fell open. She was right. I had forgotten. I glanced back at her. “Oh.”

The smile that suddenly crossed Kari’s face was one part cruelty, one part wicked, and one part hunger. “You have something to ask me. Don’t you?”

I bit my lip. I knew exactly what she was talking about. I’d practically doomed myself. I took a deep breath. My voice came out soft, high-pitched, and just a tad bit worried. “Kari? Would you please put me in the punishment frame?”

Kari’s eyes glimmered in delight. “What? So early?” She asked sarcastically.

I looked away, my face flushing with heat. “Yes Mistress,” I replied.

“You must like getting punished,” Kari said, evidently remembering her line perfectly. “Go on. And you better be naked before you get to the closet.”

I immediately turned and headed down the hall. Before I even made the corner the buttons on the front of my shirt were undone, exposing the dark blue lace bra underneath. Kari liked me wearing dark lingerie with transparent, light colored blouses. But then I shrugged out of the shirt and it fell to the carpeted hall. My bra followed a half second later, my bare breasts, still sporting a few half-healed bruises and a number of dark marks that had been welts, jiggled in the florescent light. I pushed at my skirt even before my bra hit the floor and it slid down over my hips, sliding downward over my bare legs. I stepped out of it, my black strap heels kicking it away. Finally came the panties, which I pulled out of the crack of my ass with a little moan, only to be forced to reach between my legs and catch the vibrator as it slid out of my body. It was on, but only set to the lowest setting and the oscillations didn’t seem intense now that the thing was in my hand. I looked up, realizing I was at the supply closet door. Glancing back, I saw the trail of my clothing along the hall. It looked disturbingly erotic, a clue laden track to the sweet honeypot of my sex. Kari was walking behind me, ten feet back, admiring the view of my well-shaped bottom and the delicious curves my killer heels forced my butt and back to adhere too.

“Well? Go in,” she demanded. With the vibrator in one hand I opened the supply closet door and stepped in.

The room itself was small, only ten or so feet deep and a measly eight or so feet wide. A single can light illuminated the space, revealing a metal… thing... which sat at the back. The punishment frame was made of welded steel, most of it with hard lines and squarish forms, while two short pipes, circular and covered with padding, stuck out at a forty degree angle like some sort of queer, double barreled cock. I turned my back to the frame and took a step away from Kari. I felt the padded tubes against the back of my thighs and I spread my legs just enough to let them emerge from between my legs. It looked, sort of, like I’d sprouted my own granite pillar, aroused at what I knew was coming.

“Lick it clean,” Kari said, nodding at the vibrator. I give her an exasperated look, but stuck the still gooey probe in my mouth. Kari watched me slurp on the thing for over a minute before nodding her approval. “Give it here.”

I handed her the toy and she set it down on the tiny circle table wedged into the corner. Above it hung the leather bondage cuffs and she pulled them down. I didn’t even need her to order me to lift my hands and I held my arms out, letting her quickly and professionally wrap the padded leather around each wrist.

“Arms up,” she said after cuffing me. I gave her a little smile and raised my hands above my head. It lifted my breasts high and Kari, who is much taller than me, had no problem latching the cuffs to the top of the punishment frame. It wasn’t uncomfortable despite the fact that I was relatively taut, with even my ribs well-defined. Then Kari pushed a foot between my heels, found the silver pedal on the right, and began pumping it.

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 Amazon.com!