Unexcused

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!”

 Breanne Erickson is the author of the Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Series. Check out her amazing books at Amazon.com