Sunday, October 15, 2017

No Right To Shoes - Part Two

A knock on the glass door of our office surprised me and I glanced up to see a young man with sandy blond hair, dressed in jeans and a green polo shirt, standing on the other side of the glass. He had a two wheeled dolly with a huge cardboard box on it and he waved at me with a grin. I admit, seeing Alex brightened my day and I got to my feet to open the door for him.
And instantly regretted it.
He pushed open the door himself and looked at me as I leaned against the desk corner, wincing and panting as the fresh pain hit me.
“Oh hey, Bre. You okay?”
I grimaced. “Kari caned my feet twenty minutes ago.”
He looked down at my bare feet. “Ooh. Oww. Ohh.” He said, like it was a breakfast cereal motto. I rolled my eyes because it was obvious that there was a lack of sympathy.
“Guess it hurts,” he said, pulling his package into the office. “You look… um… nice.”
That made my eyebrow go up. “Nice?”
Alex looked uncomfortable. “Decent?”
Now I glared at him.
“Hey look, I’m just not used to seeing you dressed!” He protested.
“I wear clothes all the time!” I said crossly.
This time he rolled his eyes instead of me. “Yeah, if you can call what you wear clothes,” he snorted.
“Well how would you prefer me,” I said acidly. He smiled back at me, ignoring the irritation in my eyes.
“Naked, with your nipples clamped, with your mouth around my cock,” he chirped brightly.
I sighed in exasperation and was about to give him my two cents, when Kari appeared.
“Alex! What a delight to see you!” She said politely, stepping into the small, now crowded lobby. The package took up a lot of the room.
Alex practically  bowed. “Ms. Anders. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Mike had some work to do today and he asked me to bring this by, and I never turn down an opportunity to use... “ he paused uncomfortably and glanced at me. “Ahem… see… Breanne.”
I did my Kermit the Frog frown and glared at him again.
Kari just smiled. “Of course. We all feel that way about her.” She glanced down at the package. “I presume this is the item I requested?”
Alex grinned and put a hand on the box. “It is. It’s got a pretty big footprint, but it will fit in the space, and might be more appropriate than the punishment frame.
That made me blink. And stare at the box.
At the very back of Kari’s office suite was a closet, ostensibly meant for supplies. It was ten feet deep, but only five feet wide, which made it unsuitable for uses that didn’t involve storing… uh… things… that you wanted stored, out of sight, for awhile. On my very first day Kari had stripped me naked and made me empty it of all items. Then Mike the Hardware Guy had shown up and installed a metal… thing. A frame. It could lift me up, via both my hands and my legs, opening my lower half up and leaving a good deal of my anatomy available for whatever humiliating, painful and obnoxiously abusing thing Kari had wanted to do to me. I’ve hung for hours on that thing, vibroballs jammed up inside me, clamps on my nipples and clit, suffering as she’d come in every few minutes to lash at my breasts with a flogger, or spank my pussy with that leather sap.
Were they… were they switching things out? I blinked as Alex tilted the package and the dolly back and proceeded down the hall as Kari backed out of the way. As he turned the corner carefully, Kari turned to me.
“You will strip, put on a pair of clover clamps, and assist him.”
“The hell I will,” I snorted. “I get to wear whatever I want, remember?” I replied.
Kari took a single step toward me, her eyes hard. “Breanne, I understand the assignment. And under general circumstances, you do have the right to decide on your own clothing. However, this is not one of those moments. So you will strip, immediately, find the clamps, attach them to your nipples, and then give Alex a blowjob.”
I didn’t flinch, but I looked away. “Yes, Mistress.” I turned and took one step, but she snagged my elbow.
“I didn’t say, ‘walk down the hall and strip.’ I said ‘strip. Immediately,’.”
The blood drained from my face as I went white, glancing toward the glass. I looked back at her, but there was nothing to say. No room for argument. So with a chance of a random visitor walking into the atrium, just in time to see a cute redhead stripping naked in her office, in front of a blonde, bi-sexual goddess, I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off.
Exposing a white, plain, utilitarian bra. Kari rolled her eyes in exasperation.
I undid the button at my waist, then pushed and let the folds of red cotton fall. It made an unusually large puddle at my feet, because of all the material. I was used to mini-skirts. That left just the pink, bikini cut panties and with another, almost panicked glance out into an empty atrium, I did as I was told, and finished stripping.
Naked. And barefoot. I stood there with one arm across my breasts, the other positioned in front of my sex.
Kari smiled. She’d won and she knew it. I looked at her and she waved her hand. “Go. Before someone sees you who shouldn’t.” She reached over to my desk, opened the top drawer, and drew out a set of steel clover clamps, connected by a foot long chain. “Here.”
I took the clamps and bit my lip, but the fear of being seen was enough. I turned tail and  tried to scamper, but my feet wouldn’t let me. Instead I limped, slowly, my naked ass hanging out, down the hall. I felt every burning second of it. Awful.
When I made it to the end of the hall, past Kari’s personal office, the kitchenette, the art room and the meeting room, both of my nipples were throbbing, pinched tightly between the ridged pincers of the clover clamps. The large box was still sitting in the hall, the punishment closet door was open, and I could hear clinking. With one hand still against the wall, I tiptoed my way down and looked in.
Alex was disassembling the punishment frame.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, not sure I wanted the damn thing gone or not. Sure, it was uncomfortable. Sure it opened me up and left me vulnerable. But that wasn’t exactly a bad thing. Sure, my toes touched the walls on opposite sides. But who cared! I liked it.
“Taking it apart. Kari is gifting it to the Society of the Golden Rose, so don’t worry. You’ll be mounted on it often enough,” he said, unscrewing a screw. He got it loose and then glanced back at me.
“Holy hell!” He blurted. “You’re naked!”
I frowned. “Well, this is how you said you wanted me,” I replied, possibly with a sour tone. “Naked and clamped. Want a blowjob?” I asked, remembering Kari’s instructions.
He laughed with a grin. “Hell yeah, but let me get this thing taken apart first.” He nodded toward the box. “Just wait right there.”
I groaned. “Do you mind if I sit down at least?” I asked.
He shrugged, so I slid to the floor. My feet hurt. Sitting opposite him, I spread my legs, trying to put as little pressure on my soles as possible. My nipples ached and the steel chain was cold, but I had more immediate issues. With my thighs spread wide, my gaping pussy right there, I put a hand between my legs and gently began masturbating.
Alex’s eyes widened. “Man. I wish I worked here,” he said, swallowing hard as he looked right at my sweet spot.
“You’d like to be forced to wear sexually provocative and humiliating clothing, only to be frequently and painfully abused, sexually, all while being tortured by a sadistic dominatrix?” I asked. “You do realize that she thinks that making a man cum until his cock is abraded, raw, and so sensitive he cries when she touches it, is normal?”
Alex blinked. Then he coughed. “Well, when you put it like that.”
I smiled sweetly. “Let me know when you want to experience a milking. I will personally arrange it. Alissa, Kylie and I will come over, tie you to your bed, and ravish you for hours on end.” I licked my lips. “Until it hurts.” I paused. “I mean, until long after it’s started to hurt.”
Alex shifted. “Yes. Well. Uh… I’ll think about it,” he assured me. Then he looked away and tinkered.
Twenty minutes passed as I sat there, watching him. I shifted position a couple of times, ending up sitting cross legged. The punishment frame was easy enough to disassemble, which surprised me. There was the base, with the two hydraulic jacks in it, plus the main frame work, and the supporting lifts. By the time I was dripping, two fingers of my right hand soaked to the knuckle, moaning with soft, quiet, groans of need, he had finished moving everything out of the way. Then it was time to unbox the package.
“Can I suck your cock now?” I asked eagerly. My entire frame was quivering with need.
Alex laughed. “In just a moment. We’ve got to make some adjustments anyway.” He produced a dangerous looking knife, slit some tape and then started cutting the box. Cardboard fell away and something wooden, stained dark, appeared. I eyed it curiously as Alex pulled away the packaging.
“What is it” I asked, curiously.
Alex laughed. “It’s a kneeler.”
And with just that simple sentence, I understood. It was about four feet tall and resembled the outline of an office building next to a squat parking garage. The “office building” was four feet in width, but ran the entire length of two and a half feet. The “parking garage” was padded with black leather and had straps. There were also metal brackets, screwed into the wood.
“What are those for?” I asked, pointing.
Alex smiled. “You’ll see.”
There were some other interesting things. For example. The “office” section seemed to have an elevator, right in the middle, facing the “garage”. It was just a metal receptacle. A hole. I watched as Alex manhandled the whole thing into the closet. Oddly, it faced the back wall, rather than the front. The “garage” was toward the door. He skirted it and bent down. I heard a popping noise, and a squeak.
“Wow. Mike should have oiled that,” he muttered. He pulled something out, and I watched, eyes widening in alarm, as he placed a rod of some sort, onto the padded leather of the lower portion.
It was black, coated in rubber, and was triangular, with sharp looking edges. One end was metal - an insert of a kind, which looked disturbingly capable of being “plugged” into the “elevator.”
Alex picked up the rubber rod, jammed it into the elevator socket, and then looked at me. “Ready to test it out?” He asked.
I stared at the kneeler in trepidation. “What does it do?” I asked, not even sure I wanted the answer.
Alex patted it. “All sorts of things. Kari asked for this weeks ago. You can be secured to it either on your knees, or bent over, or even bent backward to be honest. It’s a wooden pony, a horse, and it can hold all sorts of dildos and vibrators too.”
I swallowed, a strange feeling coming over me. New torments. New sensations. Kari could hurt me even more. And make me cum too. It scared me. But it also intrigued me. I pulled my fingers out of my pussy, eyes bright and excited.
“Show me?”
Alex reached out a hand, swinging around the kneeler, and grabbed my girl goo covered fingers, pulling me up. He laughed, wiped his hand on my ass, and pushed me forward, into the punishment closet.
I’ve knelt before. Frequently. Thought admittedly the last “kneeler” I’d been on had been at church the previous Sunday. This one was decidedly different. Instead of dropping down, I had to lift my leg and then myself into it. The rubber triangular rod was low, between my thighs and my feet stuck out, two and a half feet off the ground, the soles turned upward. My breasts were almost, but not quite, resting on the top of the “office” section and my new position allowed me to see two more metal brackets.
“What are these brackets for?” I asked, pointing to the metal slots four inches below my clamped breasts.
“I’ll show you,” he said. He moved back around to my front, bent down, and opened a door in the front of the kneeler. Or was it the back? He then extracted four steel rods, each as thick as my finger. All four were bent at angles, each with the steel looped at the far end. The loops were big, almost an inch wide. He slid one of the straight ends into the first bracket and it fit easily, snapping into place. It stretched out in front of me, so that the loop was between my breasts, a foot away from my chest.
I eyed him as he did it again with a second metal rod. He swung it toward the center so that the loops of both rods were aligned, and then he tightened two little screw clamps on the mounting brackets.
“What do you think?” He asked, pleased with himself.
I blinked. “I don’t know what to think,” I retorted.
Alex gave me a hurt look. “Okay. A demonstration,” he muttered. He reached up, grabbed hold of the clover clamp chewing on my left nipple, and freed the tip of my breasts from the crushing sensation. I gasped, wincing as he threaded the clamp, and the chain, through both loops. Then he tugged, bringing the clamp back up to my breast, letting it bite once more on my nipple.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as the pain shot up through my tit.
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t try to get up right now,” he said.
I brought my hands up and put them on top of my breasts. I was breathing heavily and could feel my juices dripping down my thighs. “This is evil,” I replied.
He laughed, then pulled a pair of leather bondage cuffs off the wall from where they were hanging. “No, this is evil,” he said. He began wrapping them around my wrists as I made sure to stay perfectly still. The tension on my breasts was already more than I could readily handle. He finished putting on the bondage cuffs and then brought my hands behind my back. A second later my fingers could only touch my tailbone and I was pretty much left at the mercy of the man. I couldn’t get up. Not unless I was willing to rip off my tits.
“Oh my,” I whimpered.
“Let me put the other brackets on too,” he said, moving behind me. I couldn’t really see what he was doing, but I heard the sound of the other two metal rods fitting into the wooden frame near my knees. A second set of leather manacles went around my ankles, one muting the slave bells (thank God!) and the next thing I knew both of my feet were secured in place, unable to move beyond the twist of each ankle.
My mouth went dry as I realized what Kari intended.
“There. Now all I need to do is raise the bar,” Alex said with satisfaction. He came back to the front and looked me in the face as his hand touched the wooden block my tits were now basically attached too. I heard him turn something that made a clicking noise. Three, four, then five rotations and I felt something between my legs. The rubber coated rod. I gasped, eyes widening as comprehension filled my brain. Alex continued to turn the crank, or know, or whatever, and the rubber rod rose and rose and then I whimpered as I literally felt some of my weight transfer from my knees to my pussy.
I was riding a torture horse.
The leather became slick with my juices and I found that with a roll of my hips I could slide a very short distance along it. But not too far back, or my nipples burned. And I couldn’t move forward either, since the wooden “office” partition was there. I panted, throbbing in pain and need, already fucking the stupid kneeler with passionate movements.
“Ah, perfect timing,” Kari said, her voice soft and lilting behind me.
Alex smiled. “Ms Anders. It’s all set up.”
“Yes, I see,” she replied, stepping into the closet. “And you positioned her in a befitting way.” I felt her hand on my bare shoulder and she ran her fingers down my spine, to my bottom. She traced the single welt she’d left there earlier, from one side to the other. “I approve of the prism,” she told Alex.
“I only have a bit of her weight on it,” he replied genially. “You could of course crank it up higher until she’s actually sitting on it though.”
“Not yet,” Kari purred, her hand rubbing my ass. “First she needs to be punished for her choice of footwear.”
Alex gave Kari a curious look. “She’s barefoot,” he said in confusion.
“Exactly,” Kari replied. She took a flogger down from the hook where it was hanging on the wall, and without another word, stepped back and flicked the multi-headed, rubber stranded whip at my feet. It stung, but not as bad as the cane had, and I yelped, all while thrusting my hips back and forth. The kneeler creaked a little as I strained to move my feet, but the brackets held and I could do nothing. The flogger stung my soles and I found myself grinding on the triangular prism digging up into my pussy, spreading my lips and adding even more pressure. Kari landed a hard swing and I cried out, moving the only way I could. Backward.
For four inches. Then the chain binding my breasts to the kneeler went taut and I cried out as the clover clamps tightened and tried to crush the tips of each breast.
The flogger found a new spot and Kari slashed the rubber whip across my ass with crisscross blows and in seconds I knew it was over. I grit my teeth and wailed through my clenched jaw as the orgasm that had been building over the last hour howled upward from my abused loins, curling my toes as Kari went back to whipping the bottoms of my feet. It throbbed through my chest and then rushed up my throat to explode out in a cry of anguished lust, of utter and total oblivion.
Oh my God! I’m cumming!” I practically yelled.
And then I did.
I didn’t calm down until Alex cranked the prism between my legs back down and I sagged as much as the chain holding my bosom to the top of the kneeler would let me. The bottoms of my feet felt like I’d just walked barefoot across scorching sand. I felt his hand between my thighs and he twisted the cum coated prism. I heard a click and he drew it out. He held it up.
“This one is Mike’s favorite,” he said. “The rubber will prevent any serious damage, but it will still bite up into her.”
Kari touched one edge with a smile. “Yes.”
Alex grinned and suddenly I found him holding the rod in front of my nose. “Open up, Bre.” I blinked and opened my mouth, only to have him jam the prism into my mouth, like some sort of bit. My eyes widened as I tasted my own cum and I sputtered something as he let go. Kari laughed.
“There are a few other attachments,” Alex continued, holding up a new object. “This one holds a Hitachi massager,” he waved a clamp looking thing with the same connector as the prism. “And here’s the anal dildo.” He waved another “attachment” in front of my face. A thick, knobbed, rubber dildo, positioned disturbingly back along the rod, stuck up at a slight angle, while a pointed knot in front of it was clearly intended to press against either my pussy or clit. ”Mike’s got a couple of other ideas he’s working on too.”
“Excellent,” Kari said. “I’m quite pleased. Feel free to abuse Breanne as you wish, but unless she agrees to put on either her stripper shoes, the stilettos, or her flip flops, I expect to find her right here, bound and kneeling in an hour, ready for her next punishment.” She sighed. “Barefoot. Really,” she said derisively. Then she stepped out of the punishment closet and I heard her footsteps fade.
Alex blinked. “What’s she talking about?” He asked me, reaching up to my left nipple and freeing it from the clover clamp. I gasped, loudly. Pain shot through my tit as he unthreaded the chain from the brackets, freeing my tits from the kneeler.
“It’s an assignment,” I finally managed to croak, only to wince again as he reset the clamp on my nipple. Just not quite as tightly. “Oh God… that fucking hurts!”
Alex laughed. “You like it. You know it.” She let the chain drop, loose, and moved behind me. I felt his fingers on my calf. He was unclipping my ankle cuffs from the lower brackets. “So what is this assignment?”
I sighed. “It’s all about shoes,” I explained. “Evidently I have no right to shoes. I’m allowed to go barefoot, wear my stilettos, the fuck me stupid stripper shoes, or my flip flops.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Alex said. He finished freeing me. “You can stand up now.”
I thought about it. “I’d rather not,” I said quickly.
He considered the situation for a moment. “Okay.” Then, without a word of warning, he picked me up with both hands, threw me over his shoulder, and carried me gasping out of the punishment closet and down the hall. He turned left into the conference room and a moment later he set me down in one of the leather chairs, startled and gasping. I lifted my feet to keep them off the ground as he pulled up a chair and sat.
“Wow. I like you like that,” he said, nodding to my open legs. With my hands behind my back, still cuffed together, I didn’t have many options. I slung my feet outward and draped my legs over the armrests. This is a common position for me, one that Kari likes, and Alex looked more than impressed.
He looked hungry.
His eyes caressed my well sauced and slightly bruised pussy, but then he found my face again. “So what’s the problem with wearing the shoes?” He asked.
I sighed and shifted, just a bit uncomfortable. “Well, if I’m barefoot, I get to choose what clothes I wear.”
Alex gave me a skeptical look. “Yeah?” He asked. “How’s that working out for ya?”
I grunted. “Well, at least I did before you got here,” I replied sullenly.
“Yeah? And what about the fuck me shoes? The stripper ones?”
I squirmed a bit more. “I have to dress in my peasant blouse and a micro-skirt. And then I have to flash every fifth person either my breasts, or my pussy. Alternating.”
Alex looked at me in surprise, then burst out into laughter.
“It’s not funny!” I said angrily.
He shook his head. “Yes it is! You! Flashing your tits and ass and cunt like that! I can just imagine it! And while wearing the stripper shoes!”
It took him a moment to recover. I just glared at him. The vibrating egg in my pussy was still going, though at such a soft level I wasn’t paying much attention to it yet. He finally gasped and smiled again, touching my thigh in a very delicate caress. “And the stilettoes?”
I licked my lips. “We go from humiliating to painful. Remember the black dress with all the slits?”
“The one where everyone can tell if you’re wearing panties?” He asked curiously. I nodded.
“Yeah. That one,” I said darkly. “It doesn’t show anything. It’s slutty, without being too revealing. If I choose that one, I don’t have to flash anyone, but I do have to walk around with the Thrusting Anal Vibe in my ass, jacking away, while my clit and nipples get to suffer the alligator clamps.”
“Whoa,” Alex murmured. “That’s tough.”
I snorted. “On top of that, I have to report, every hour, to the nearest dom or dominatrix, for a bare bottom, bare breasted spanking.”
He smiled. “I volunteer.”
“Thank you,” I sneered.
“Okay. So that doesn’t sound so bad. But what was the last one Kari said? Flip flops?”
I nodded. “Yes. Beach thongs. You know?”
He sat back in his chair. “And the problem with those?”
I swallowed. “I uh… have to wear the white tube top and the white, elastic skirt.” I said. His eyes seemed bright. “And uh… the clover clamps on my breasts, and the vibrating pendant on my clit. And a jeweled plug in my ass. I’m not allowed to cum.”
“Punishments?” He asked.
I shrugged. “Yeah. Probably.”
“Well, still that doesn’t sound that awful. I mean, sure it might be…” he began, but I interrupted him.
“And they have to be soaked in cum,” I blurted.
He paused. “What?” I took a deep breath.
“Not only do I have to wear the outfit, and the clamps, and the plug, and not cum, but I have to get a guy to ejaculate on my flipflops before I can wear them.”
Alex stared, just a little shocked.
“And I can’t let them dry out either,” I continued. “I have to put fresh cum in them.”
He gave me a look. “Eeewwww.”
I laughed, though it came out a little hysterical. “Yeah!”
“So that’s why you’re barefoot,” he said finally.
I nodded. “Yep. It hurts. Alot. But the alternatives are…”
“Naughty,” he finished for me.
I gave him an uncomfortable shrug. “That’s one way of describing it.”
He took a deep breath and stood up, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. “Well, I certainly understand your dilemma. It sucks to be you.” He began unbuttoning his jeans as I looked on in surprise. “So the only question I’ve got for you,” he continued as he kicked off his shoes and began pushing his pants down. “Is whether you want to swallow my spunk,” he pulled out his thick, semi-rigid manhood and it wiggled in front of me. “Or if I should shoot it across your flip flops?”
I eyed his cock and felt a surge of arousal shoot through me. My pussy tightened on the still buzzing vibrator.
“Let’s cross that bridge when you cum to it,” I whispered.
Alex smiled. “Good idea,” he said gruffly, moving forward fast. He tilted my chair backward, lifting one leg, and jammed his cock into my mouth. With my hands behind my back there was nothing I could do, no way to stop him, or control him, or handle him. I did my best to handle the skullfucking he gave me and in just minutes, as spittle dripped down my chin, he groaned, his cock shuddering, spurting and cumming.

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Sunday, October 8, 2017

No Right To Shoes Part One

Laura Ingalls Wilder once wrote, “The real things haven't changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong.” It’s a pretty good axiom to live by and I’ve taken some measure of comfort, reminding myself that things could be worse.
I could be living in a little house on the prairie.
That said, I wondered what Laura would make of my predicament, finding me kneeling on a leather chair, dressed in a long, calf length skirt, and conservative, non-see-thru, white blouse, with my bare feet hanging out, the freshly cleaned soles ready and waiting. Behind me sat Kari, who’d only arrived a few minutes before. She was frowning, clearly unhappy with my choice of attire, but by rights I could wear whatever I wanted. That was part of the deal. The assignment. And frankly, I was about to pay for it. As usual, Kari looked stunning, dressed in a slinky white and black dress that played to her strengths. Cool, calculated, vicious and sadistic.
She held a leather sap in her hand and looked down at my toes.
“You do realize that you’re going to get fifteen strokes, yes?” She asked. I nodded and took a deep breath. I was too scared to turn around and look at her. I about jumped out of my clothes just when she touched the arch of my foot with her finger, rubbing my sole gently.
“I’m at a loss to figure out why you’d rather have me beat the bottoms of your feet, instead of just wearing the stripper shoes,” she said softly, rubbing my arches. I closed my eyes at the pleasure. I love having my feet rubbed. I’m ticklish, but it takes fast movements to overload me. Slow, sensuous strokes? Light ones? My God… I’m in heaven.
Hmm… she didn’t mention the flip flops, though I could totally understand why. I didn’t want to think about the cons of selecting that footwear. But still, getting to choose what I wanted to wear, instead of the revolving door of costumes from “Secretary Sluts IV,” was almost priceless.
I said almost, because there definitely was a price.
I suspect that Kari does it deliberately. She buys six hundred dollar dresses and suits, while I get trashy bits of gauze. Clothes make a person, male or female, and when she shows up looking every bit the aristocrat, with a toady, barely pretty and mostly cute, obvious fuck slut, standing next to her, the differences are clear. I’m there to spread my legs, suffer sexually, and satisfy carnally, anyone who wants to put a hand on me. But Kari? Men quiver in her presence, as if they sense they aren’t good enough for her.
So yes. Clothes make a fucking difference.
Her nails flickered and I gasped, kicking my right foot lightly. A ringing noise filled the room as the slave bell anklet I’d strapped around my leg that morning jingled. It was just part of the requirements for going barefoot, but it didn’t really bother me. I looked a bit “Carmen”, since the skirt was red and the blouse white. And while the bells rang and attracted attention, all it really did was make men look at me and appreciate my form. They didn’t want to come over, rip my shirt off, slap my breasts back and forth, and then perform a tonsillectomy on me, using their dicks. Instead, there was a look of appreciation. Admiration. Respect.
As if I actually deserved it.
“Ready?” Kari asked, pulling her fingers away from my waiting feet. I swallowed and nodded.
“I suppose,” I said with a deep breath. I gripped the chair with both hands and held on, not sure just how bad the punishment was going to be. I stared straight ahead, bracing myself, picturing the sting, reminding myself not to kick too much and…
“Fuck!” I blurted as a bristling sting exploded across my right foot, from heel to the toes and I couldn’t help covering one foot with the other. Prickling pain seemed to spread, only to morph into heat. “That hurt!” I exclaimed, in surprise.
“It’s supposed too,” Kari retorted. “Here comes the next one.”
I stiffened, but that was all the time I had before the leather sap swung downward, slapping my left foot. It wasn’t a centered stroke, so it caught even more of my instep and it hurt worse than the other foot. The bells rang.
“Shit!” I spat, my knees bending as I struggled to stay in position. My feet twitched and rolled as pain seemed to spread. Then Kari took advantage of an opening, and spanked my right foot again.
I let out a choked sob, my entire body seeming to cringe. “Fuck! That hurts!”
“Please unfold your feet. You’re covering up,” Kari said, grabbing hold of my toe and pulling. I spread my knees a little farther apart and Kari seemed satisfied. Then she slapped my left foot again.I could help rolling my ankle, toes curled, as the pain seared the bottoms of my feet.
“Breanne, you need to stay in position, please.” The tone was admonishing and I frowned at Kari’s words.
“Do you have any idea how hard this is to endure?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to hit a moving target?” She demanded, then slapped the sap down again. Fire seemed to burst on my right foot and I squirmed. Lots. Her hand clamped down on my ankle, muting the bells. “Hold still!” She said, and spanked my foot again.
I let out a sound that was eerily similar to a cow dying. In agony.
“Well,” said a very exasperated Kari. “I knew this would be a problem right from the first. It looks like I’ll have to be inventive until the more permanent solution I ordered arrives. Stay there,” she declared, standing up. I whimpered and sniveled as she tossed the sap onto the table and marched out of the room.
More “permanent” solution?
She was gone only a minute and when she came back it was with a three foot piece of one inch dowel, made of wood, and enough rope to truss up… well… a nympho humiliation pain slut. She tied one end of the rope to the rod, tucked it up under my ankle, and then began lashing my leg to the stick.
“Please, Kari. Is this really necessary?” I begged her as she wrapped the rope around my foot. She made sure the sole was bare and facing up toward her.
“Obviously, since you can’t seem to stay still,” she replied, moving to the other foot and positioning it where she wanted it. There was no way I could twist and cover one sole with the toes of my other foot now. In seconds I was secure. Then, since she had more than enough rope, she tied the damn stick to the chair, then wrapped the hemp around me until I couldn’t move.
At all.
“Now, where were we?” She asked as I pulled on the bonds. “Oh yes.” She picked up the paddle and without further ado, beat the bottoms of my feet until I was a sniveling wreck. Hot and inflamed, my soles burned when she untied me and I slid around and sat, unwilling to put my feet down and stand.
Kari gave me a strict look. “This is what you choose. I’ll do it again in forty-five minutes. The cane next, I think. Or perhaps the TENS Unit. Unless of course, you change out of that ridiculous ensemble and put on some more sensible footwear.”
I tried to snort, but it came out as a hiccup. “Sensible?” I choked. I lifted my left foot up and looked at the sole. The bottom of my foot was bright red from my toes all the way down to the heal. And it smarted. Badly. “None of the other options are sensible,” I whined.
Kari shrugged. “By all means then, allow me to make walking difficult for you. It’s either that or dress appropriately for your station.” She leaned forward and gave me a particularly nasty look. “And I have no intention of turning on the vibrating egg while you’re dressed like that either.”
I felt my pussy quiver. Inside me, silent and waiting, was an egg sized object. There was a motor inside, and a wireless receiver, which went to a little control fob that Kari had in her office. She knew that I’d be more docile aroused, more willing to let her abuse me, and convince me to do as she asked.
I gave her a smoldering look and sucked it up. Then, still staring at her, I put my feet down and stood up. It hurt. Oh God it hurt. But I stood. “Thank you,” I said politely, trying not to let my acute discomfort show. “But I’m fine.” Then, with nothing else to say, I limped out of the conference room, the carpet rough on my freshly beaten feet, and headed back to my desk.
Forty-five minutes later the vibrator between my legs, which had been annoyingly silent, rumbled to life and I let out a low groan. As my pussy tightened around the egg shaped sex toy, Kari appeared next to me.
“You’re still wearing that atrocious skirt and blouse,” she said darkly. She glanced down at my bare feet. “And still barefoot as well,” she said with resignation. “Well, let’s see what I can do to motivate you to change outfits.” Her chin bobbed. “Let’s go. Conference room.”
I took a deep breath, but one laced with an intense, sexual arousal. Kari certainly knew how to motivate me, and with every nerve between my legs tingling with excitement, my brain wasn’t able to focus on what was about to happen. The egg shaped vibrator rumbled inside me and I could feel the spasms of my sex as I followed along docilely, a lamb led to slaughter. We entered the conference room and I was directed, once more, to assume my perch on one of the leather chairs. The wooden dowel and the rope was still there, but she didn’t pick them up. Instead she lifted a thin, wooden cane from the mahogany table and gave it a dangerous swish through the air.
“Are you ready?” She asked me in a professional, business-like tone.
“No,” I muttered. My feet weren’t really hurting anymore, at least not from the sapping she’d given me. But they still felt tender. Sensitive. Delicate. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the first stroke coming and…
Scorching, bruising, heavy heat blossomed across both of my feet at once, right in the fucking center of my arches. The bells of the slave anklet rang. I gasped, which then morphed into a high pitched whine and I kicked both feet like mad as the fire burned down to my heels and up to my toes. Holy fucking God. I didn’t even realize I was gritting my teeth until my jaw started to hurt more than my feet, almost a minute later.
“Four more,” Kari said as my flailing stopped and slowed. She slashed downward, cutting into the balls of both feet. I sure as hell felt that. It was like someone took a hammer to my bones. I screeched, kicking and flailing and even twisted as my hips were called into play. The vibrator was still buzzing inside me and my brain was having some difficulty processing the various sensations, getting them confused. At some point my feet stopped kicking and Kari was ready.
“Agggghhhhh!” I yelled, eyes squeezed shut, my hips thrusting back and forth as both feet went wild. The bells on my ankle rang and rang. “Holy fuck!” I hissed, tears managing to escape, pooling along my lashes. Pain seemed to radiate up my legs.
“I truly dislike this skirt,” Kari said suddenly, and I felt the cane lifting the material upward. It rose and rose, revealing my panticlad ass. “Panties? Really Bre?” Her hand took hold of the material and I was truly unprepared as a fresh swish filled my ears. I expected it to land on my feet, but it caught me across the bottom, the thin cotton of my underwear doing absolutely zilch to mitigate the blow.
“Oww!” I squealed, jerking. “What was that for?” I demanded, half twisting in the chair. I glared at her and she gave me a cool smirk.
“For going against your nature,” she replied tartly. “This isn’t you.”
I frowned. “It’s a part of me,” I replied defensively as she let my skirt go. “It’s just the part that few people see.”
The cane flashed again as Kari took advantage of my distraction to land the third, red welt across my soles. She aimed for the heel and as usual, was exactingly accurate. My toes curled, the slave anklet jiggled and jingled and I kicked and folded, trying to absorb the pain.
“Ready to put on some shoes?” She asked me.
I panted. I closed my eyes. I waited for the pain to subside, just a little bit. “I’m not wearing any of them!” I declared.
So Kari hit me again.
At least she left the vibrating egg still going.
Five minutes later I sat with tears drying on my cheeks, looking down at my poor feet. Sure enough, there were four, crimson lines drawn across both feet, two in the arch, less than a centimeter from each other, while one went across my heel and the other just behind my toes. They burned, but putting any weight down on my feet was even worse. Standing up hurt and I had to brace myself against the table, only to fall forward and grab the door,  before hobbling my way out into the hall. My knees buckled with every step.
Back at my desk, I collapsed into my chair with a groan of relief, my pussy still convulsing around the sex toy. I wasn’t actually feeling that aroused, the pain of my bastinado sessions more than enough to mitigate any pleasure I was feeling. Still, it was there, which was better than it not being there. So with a sigh I started typing. I only had another fifty minutes before the next session.
And more pain.
More to cum!

Wild, witty, and totally sexy, Breanne Erickson is the author of “Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut,” series. Known as the “goddess of dark erotica”, her humorous outlook on life, her incredible urges, and sexual escapades are the stuff of legend. Each tale is like an entry into her personal diary - the long, thick, and hard “ins and outs” of a girl who can’t ever seem to get enough deviant sex. Check out her amazing work at