I woke up sore, so sore that when I pulled the
Core Driller out of my pussy and tossed it aside, the very thought of trying to
masturbate with the thing made me wince. And let me tell you - that’s pretty
damn unusual for me. I let my panties snap back into place and even that didn’t
feel good. For a moment, I thought about rolling over and going back to sleep.
Maybe a sick day was in order. God knew that after all the torments I’d been
through the night before, even the multiple orgasms and wild, manic fucking, it
would be a good idea to give my poor pussy a break.
But I’m a glutton for punishment. I knew that
Kari, my boss, best friend, and sadistic sex mistress, had plans for the day
and there was no way she was going to be able to do without me. So after I got
my daughter dressed, fed, and sent off to school, I stood in front of the open
closet and considered my options.
First, the very thought of sticking anything
back into my sex was just too much to handle. My petals were bruised and
swollen from the cropping Tamara had given me and my clit still looked large
and misshapen thanks to the clamp that had hung from it while I’d been tied
down. The insides of my sex weren’t any better. A variety of implements had
been repeatedly pushed into me, with odd shapes and textures and while I hadn’t
come out of it torn or mangled, I’d been thoroughly scoured. Normally, dildoes
I use are at least cock shaped. Last night? Not even close.
I thrust that thought aside. There are
consequences for breaking NHPS Rules and Rule #1 is the most important. It
states that girls like me are to keep something inside them at all times:
either an actual cock or sex toy or something… in order to stay wet and ready
for sex. That’s the whole point. Of course, in reality it just drives me
absolutely nuts. It’s constant sexual torture. Nothing more. And when you’re
pussy is sore from an evening of callous and rough fucking, the idea of
sticking something else in there isn’t always appealing.
Since it was Friday, my clothing options were
limited to what I had clean. So I decided on a black leather skirt that barely
covered my ass. This I pared with a pair of knee high black leather boots with
four inch heels and a black blouse that was meant to be worn with an
undershirt. Except I went without. The result was that tantalizing glimpses of
my breasts and belly peeked out repeatedly, flashing an unexpected amount of
skin. Kari has a habit of rewarding daring outfits so I figured I might just
get clemency.
God, I’m an idiot.
Kari walked through the front door of the office
precisely at nine. She’s something of a perfectionist and believes that people
should be right on time. I once told her that punctuality is for people with
nothing better to do and her eyes narrowed, right before ordering me to strip
and go to the punishment closet for a whipping. Now… now I don’t mind her
coming in exactly on time.
She was wearing blue jeans which surprised me,
since she’s usually more elegant than that unless we are doing a demolition.
Her blouse had the shoulders cut and her bare skin seemed to glow from beneath
the material. Her dainty feet were in a pair of cork wedges that looked
expensive, but simple all at the same time. She stopped after coming in and her
warm smile seemed to melt my heart. She looked at my outfit and grinned.
“You know you’re padlock is showing?” She asked
me, a wicked gleam in her eye. I could tell I was already turning her on.
I glanced down, suddenly blushing and sure
enough, my entire right nipple was sticking out through one of the slits in the
shirt. The gold of the padlock actually looked pretty against the black
material I quickly brought my hand up and tucked myself back in. I mean… I
could hardly sit at the desk with a glass wall in front of me with my tit
hanging out. Right?
“How does the Double Dildo feel?” She suddenly
asked me. I couldn’t help feeling that it was a loaded question. She’d been the
one to send me to Tamara and Oscar, even if it had been my other mistress -
Julie - who’d ordered it be a review of my carnal capacities. I looked up at
her with a hopeful expression and saw her smile melt away. If I hadn’t been red
before, I turned that way at that moment. The toy I’d been instructed to wear
that day was my double dildo, a thick rubber monstrosity that had not one, but
two phallic probes, one which was to fill my pussy, while the other was
destined to go up my ass. I’d left it at home.
“Uh… actually… that’s something I wanted to talk
to you about,” I stammered. Kari’s eyebrow went up. “You see, Oscar and Tamara…”
She waved a hand. “Yes, yes. Your pussy review.
I’m guessing that Tamara and Oscar gave you a thorough fucking?”
A “thorough fucking?” Is that what she wanted to
call what that couple did to me? That’s sort of like falling off a forty foot
cliff and someone saying you took a little tumble. I stopped and stared at her.
“Multiple times, actually.” I gave her a slightly colder stare. “Along with
shoving every uncomfortable goddamned thing in the house into me.”
She smiled. “Excellent. So what does this have
to do with your double dildo?”
I bit my lip, already regretting my morning’s
decision. I toned down my voice into something pleading. “Um… well… you see… I
was… a bit… actually more than a bit… uncomfortable this morning.”
“Uncomfortable,” she repeated. I could already
tell she was unimpressed.
I nodded eagerly. “Yes. Uncomfortable. So I
thought that… well… maybe… we… I mean I… could go… you know… without… and…”
“You’re breaking Rule #1, right now?” Kari
asked, her tone frosty.
I nodded, knowing I was doomed. She took a step
closer.
“You do not have the right to decide when or if
you are to follow the NHPS Rules. Did you bring it with you?”
I shook my head, my bottom lip caught between my
teeth. “No, Kari.”
She cocked her head to the side for a moment.
“Then you will spend the next ten minutes finding something appropriate here in
the office to shove up your pussy. It must completely fill you, so don’t select
a marker.” Her tone was almost frightening. “You will then come to me, with the
item inside you, and beg for my approval. If either you take more time than
allowed, or select an inappropriate item, I will take you to the punishment
closet, fuck you with something that I deem appropriate as a punishment, and
then whip you repeatedly between the legs and across the breasts.”
My mouth fell open and I gaped at her.
“Furthermore, you are not allowed to use any
item whose primary purpose is sexual gratification. So don’t think you can grab
one of your anal plugs or that collection of dildoes in your bottom drawer and
use one of them.” Then she turned and walked down the hall leaving me sitting
there in shock.
“Time’s a wasting, Bre!” She called out.
I jumped up. The first thing I did was yank open
the top drawer of my desk, but I realized that was stupid the moment my eyes
slid across the assortment of pens, markers, and other assorted bric-a-brac in
there. None of it fit Kari’s definition of “suitably sized” For a moment I
hesitated over the scissors. Not that I dream about pushing sharp items up
inside myself, but if the blades are closed…
I moved on before I tried running with scissors
too.
My top side drawer yielded a better selection of
items, but nothing particularly acceptable. The only thing in the drawer that
was even close to the right shape and width was a stapler, and while I’ve had
those sorts of things inside me before, the hard, angular edges made for
unpleasant memories. I pushed aside a lint roller, correction tape, pens,
staples, and rubber bands. Next drawer. A 200 count box of Tic Tacs? A bottle
of Tylenol? A bottle of dry erase board cleaner?
The bottom drawer on the left was pointless. It
had files in it. The bottom drawer on the right had a box full of anal plugs
and a number of unremarkable dildoes and vibrators in it. Except… I wasn’t
allowed to choose any of those items. I heard a little knock and glanced up.
Jose, our day porter, was once again washing the windows. I looked down at my
chest. Yep. The tips of both breasts were hanging out again. Fuck!
I straightened up and ran a hand down my front
as Jose grinned and waved. I gave him a little wave back, but then turned tail
and ran. I’d already wasted two minutes searching my desk. Dumb, Bre. Very
Dumb. Kari was in her office on the phone and I was tempted to disturb her, but
I realized that her art room was a better choice anyway, or the kitchenette.
Either or. I turned right first, not wanting to disturb Kari’s stuff. I rounded
the small table and went right for the drawers, yanking them outward. I almost
pulled one right out of the cabinet!
Mostly plastic serving spoons. Nope. Not good
enough. A whisk? Maybe. But this one is small. Why do we even have a small
whisk? Why not a big one? Salt grinder. No. It’s open. Same thing with the
pepper. Garlic? Cabinet up at the top. Nope. It’s a square, and the size of a
roll of duct tape. Well that won’t work! Well… fuck!
I opened the refrigerator, getting slightly more
panicked. Salad dressing packets, but no bottles. Cans and cans and cans of
Diet Coke and Black Cherry Fresca. Leftovers from Hungry’s lunch last week.
Eewwww. I took that out and threw it away. Why the hell don’t we have zuchinnis? I've fucked zucchinis before.
I closed the refrigerator and glanced around the
kitchen. No help for it. I had to go to Kari’s art room. I crossed the hall and
went into her little bit of organized chaos. The center of her art room is
dominated by a tilted desk with a default piece of white paper hanging from the
clips. To the left are two bookcases filled with brushes, colored pencils,
paint, even Crayons. But nothing thick and long and cock like. For a moment my
hand hovered over a glue stick, but it was technically too short.
Behind her chair were more shelves, each one
filled with binders of material samples, rug samples, paint cards… colors and
shapes and textures. My eyes glazed over it all and I wheeled to the last wall.
There was a stool there, sort of like a director’s chair actually, with a
stained canvas seat, a rung to step up on, and a soft back. This was next to
another bookcase which had the more esoteric items Kari used in her art work.
On the top shelf was a box of modeling clay. Useless. There was a small rack
that held six inch tall spools of colored twine. I pulled one out, wondering
what it would feel like going into my pussy. But then I realized that Kari
would blow a gasket if I jammed some of her art stuff into my sex, so I put it
back and hurried down the hall, back toward her office.
She glanced up. “A minute early. I like that,”
she said with a smile, her eyes going down to my skirt. But then she caught
sight of my face. “Oh dear. Really Bre?”
I looked around her office. Kari isn’t exactly a
clutterbug. She’s almost spartan. I bit my lip. Her phone? Never. She’d kill me
and I wasn’t sure it would fit. Arggghhh! What the hell should I choose?
Slowly Kari stood up as I shifted frantically
left and right. She didn’t say anything and our eyes met. Then she put her
hands on my shoulders.
“Breathe,” she said. I nodded and sucked in
another breath.
“Good,” she continued. “You’ve got a minute
left. Think.”
My mind raced, but all I could think of that had
even been remotely acceptable had been the whisk. I nodded, turned on my heels,
and went back to the kitchen. I grabbed the steel utensil, hurried back to
Kari’s office, and held it up like a sword fighter giving a salute.
Kari’s eyebrow went up, but she didn’t say
anything. I gave her a smile that was more smirk, then unzipped the skirt. It
fell to the floor and I glanced over my shoulder and moved out of her doorway.
It wouldn’t be good to have someone come in and see my bare ass. Then I spread
my legs and began running the wires of the utensil through my petals.
Did it hurt? Yes. Not like straight up pain. But
I was bruised and uncomfortable and the whisk didn’t feel good. Worse, I wasn’t
exactly wet either. Damp? Yes. Wet? Not quite. And suddenly I realized just why
Rule #1 was important. It would have been better for me to slip in the ben wa
balls that morning and risk getting a punishment for switching out the toy of
the day, then go without.
Kari watched as I gingerly rubbed my clit. It
took almost two minutes and I had to lick my fingers to help. She said nothing
as the bendy metal hoops disappeared into my pussy, my hand thrusting them
deeper and deeper. Finally only the steel handle was visible and it stuck out
of my sex like a thin metal penis. Inside me the whisk felt cold,
uncomfortable, and not very sexy.
My mistress looked me in the eye. “A small
whisk. Really. That’s what you felt was acceptable?”
I cringed.
She shook her head. “Very well. You will now go
down to the end of the hall. Take off all your clothes and put on the bondage
cuffs. Then hook yourself up to the punishment frame. I’ll be there in a
moment.”
I swallowed. “What are you going to use on me?”
I asked, though it came out as a whimper.
“Something appropriate,” she assured me.
I looked up. “They hurt me last night. Doing the
review.”
Kari shrugged. “They were supposed to. You’re a
nympho humiliation pain slut. Stress on the pain part.”
I bit my lip. “They cropped me. And flogged me.”
Kari didn’t say anything. Instead she reached up
and her fingers tweaked my exposed nipples. I hadn’t realized that they’d once
more emerged out from behind the strips of shirt I was wearing. I gasped,
shuddered, and when the wetness surged between my legs I nodded. I understood.
I turned away from her, pulling my nipples out from her light grasp, and headed
down the hall toward the punishment closet and its frame. The steel whisk
stayed put as I peeled off the shirt and tossed it aside.
I opened the very last door on the left side of
the hall. Inside was a small room that had once been a supply closet, but now
held a steel frame. A hook dangled from the top arm. Against the side of the
wall was a rack and I grabbed the bondage cuffs and began putting them on. It
felt weird to be standing there wearing nothing but a pair of knee high leather
boots, with a whisk sticking out of my pussy. I finished securing my wrists,
clipped them together, and then backed myself up to the punishment frame. A
pair of padded steel supports jutted out and I straddled them so that they
rested between my thighs. Then I lifted my hands, swung them up to the hook,
latched on, and waited.
Kari came in a few moments later and she didn’t
hesitate. Her foot went to the small hydraulic pedal between my feet and
pushed. I felt my hands drawn up, further and further until I was on tip toe,
even in the boots. Then she went to the other pedal. The two posts sticking out
between my thighs? They spread, pulling my legs apart until I was forced off my
feet. For a moment my weight was on my hands, but eventually I was sitting on
the posts. Then even they moved out too far, almost to the inside of my knee
and I was hung, legs obscenely spread, my whisk stuffed sex dripping onto the
linoleum floor.
Kari grabbed hold of the whisk. “You really
thought this would be acceptable?” She asked, drawing it half out of me and
then pushing it back in. I gasped.
“Uh… I guess…” I whimpered.
She pulled it out all the way and tapped my clitoris
with it. Lightly, thank God, but she still tapped me. “This is worthless.” She
dropped it on the ground where it clattered. “For your pussy, we need something
uncomfortable.” She reached for her back pocket and to my horror, brought out a
full sized stapler. “Something like this,” she whispered.
“Kari…” I whined. “Please. No… not a stapler.
Please?”
She stepped closer and I felt the angular end
press against my petals.
“Kari?” I begged.
Her lips found mine and the pressure built
between my legs, the hard, rectangular object digging in. I groaned, shaking as
my bruised petals were mashed aside. Then I realized her thumb was rubbing my
sore and tender clit.
“Now, I’m going to fuck you with this. And right
before you cum, I’m going to take it out and whip your tits and pussy with the
flogger.” She pushed another inch of stapler into me.
“Am I… am I… going… to… to… get… to… cum?” I
panted.
Kari let out a laugh. “We’ll see, won’t we?” She
drew half the stapler out, then slid it back in. “We’ll see!”
