Footsteps

I heard the footsteps, even over the sound of the motor and for the umpteenth time I weighed my options. My entire body ached from being locked in the same position and my nipples throbbed agonizingly every time I made the mistake of tipping away from the tree. The bark was rough upon my skin and both sides of my face had reddened as I rested my head against the trunk, summoning the willpower to once again call out for help.

I'd tried to pull away twice, but the clover clamps were tightly pressed over both nipples, the piercings literally getting in the way. I had eschewed my regular set, the ones with plier-like ridges making it practically impossible to pull loose, and instead wore an unadulterated bare, presuming that the smooth grips would make it possible, if not easier to pull free. Now the tips of my breasts were paying the price, crushed and twisted into two points of sheer agony.

I moved my feet, the only freedom I technically had, since my slight and delicate wrists had been trapped in a pair of steel Smith & Wesson standard police issue cuffs. They even came with a key, a key wired to the very center of the chain holding me to the tree by my tits. I couldn’t even see the damn thing.

I sucked in a painful breath, tilted my head back, and said the words loudly. I was beyond the point where I was embarrassed about calling out. In fact, this was the third time I’d done it.

“Help! Please! Help me!” I yelled.

If the runner was wearing earbuds, or worse - headphones, like the first two that had passed me, they wouldn’t hear me. I’d discovered that almost an hour before, when I’d finally come to grips with the fact that I wasn’t getting free on my own. Worse, the jogging trail was technically off the beaten path. It took a dedicated runner to get this far. Over the last three hours I’d only heard eight people. If I’d know how bad it would get, I’d have screamed for help the very first time. Now it was starting to get dark. I had to do something.

“Help! PLEASE HELP ME!” I practically shouted.

I listened. The footsteps had stopped.

Now the motor seemed very loud and I deliberately pressed my thighs together, muting the embarrassing rumble between my legs.

“Hello?” I begged again. “Is anyone there? Please, I need some help.”

My breath caught in my throat as the bushes on the other side of the tree parted and a face appeared. Mid-thirties, handsome, muscular, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Wonderful. His eyes widened in shock when he saw me.

And why not? I’d have been shocked if I’d seen the tableau all laid out myself. I was leaning against a tree with my bare tits in full and glorious view, but they were clamped, with the chain connecting them wrapped around the tree. My bare legs shook and long streaks of wetness ran down the insides of each thigh. The skirt itself wasn't exactly decent either, and no doubt he heard the motor…

I mean the motors.

“Good lord,” he said in astonishment, and to his credit he hurried forward without a thought for his own safety. I was his only concern.

“The clamps,” I panted. “Please take them off!”

He hurried forward, hands raised, obviously. “Holy shit! Hold on. I’ll get you free,” he said quickly. I felt his fingers touching the side of my breasts and I felt another wave of simple desperation. It had been around twenty minutes since my last orgasm and despite the agony in my breasts, I was certainly feeling the pressure. His fingers pinched open the first clamp and I cried out as blood rushed back into the crushed nipple.

I pulled away from the tree for the first time in hours and in one of my more glorious moments of dexterity, fell over. I have to admit, it felt wonderful.

I lay there, staring up through the branches. The sky was gorgeous, a deepening blue with tinges of pale, dusky gold and the relief I felt, even with only one clamp off, was almost overwhelming. I realized that half the pain I’d been feeling was positional. My back… well, let’s just say I don’t recommend being bound with your hands behind your back and your tits clamped to a tree as an alternative to a good chiropractor. I groaned and twisted, trying to snag the chain with my handcuffed hands.

“Here, let me help you,” my savior said, going down on one knee. I grit my teeth but nodded. He reached up, tacitly ignoring the sight of the purple plastic bug positioned over my pussy, buzzing away. Instead he pinched open the clamp on my right breast and I again groaned as my heart was once more able to push blood into the mashed nipple. He ran his fingers along the chain and found the key.

“Roll over to the side,” he said.

I did as he asked and felt his fingers at the cuffs. It was a blessing as he released them, first the right wrist, then the left and I pulled my arms forward, hugging myself, the ache and burn in my biceps almost as bad as the residual pain at the tips of my breasts. I began rubbing my arms, but then I realized that my next problem had to be dealt with immediately, before I did something stupid. I reached down between my legs, grabbed hold of the wire, and pulled.

No, not on the plastic bug. I pulled the wire until the controller, which had been lying on the ground behind me, came to my hand.

“What’s that?” He asked. I slid both controls downward and the corkscrewing motion of the four inch phallus buried in my pussy not only stopped, the vibration that had been shaking the whole plastic bug base went silent. Since the tip had been pressed against my clit, you can imagine the relief.

“Vibrator,” I replied, groaning as the hum of the motors stopped. I fell back, stretching, just reveling in the new pains of freedom. I realized that I still probably looked absolutely ridiculous, so self-consciously, I reached up and pulled the halter top of my shirt down over my tits.

He bit his lip, still totally uncertain. “Who did this to you?” He finally asked. Ah… the million dollar question. “Should I call the police?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, I don’t need the police,” I replied. Slowly I sat up and tried to smooth my skirt down, but to no use. It was just too short. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “This whole thing was my own stupid fault.” I held out a hand, obviously meaning for him to help me up. Like a good boy he took it, pulling me to my feet. I clung to him, pressing the entire front of my body to his. He was damp with sweat and I admit that the scent of him turned me on. I mean, it turned me on more. I looked into his eyes.

“I put me there,” I said sheepishly. “I thought I’d be able to pull free.”

He looked at me blankly.

“You know, self-bondage?” I asked.

He gave me a look, one I’ve seen before. Crazy girl.

I sighed. Right. “Well, uh… look. Can I give you a reward for rescuing me?” I asked. “I’d love to give you a blow job.”

Now he blinked. “You’re serious.”

I nodded. “Oh absolutely. Or if you’d like you can fuck me. I’ve got condoms in my purse.”

He looked around the darkening clearing. “Uh… is this some sort of prank? A joke?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Just you and me. And really, thanks for rescuing me.” I licked my lips. I really, really wanted his cock now. “We can do it here. I’ll be on the bottom,” I assured him. Then, just to reassure him, I pulled my halter top back up. My breasts, complete with little red indentations on both nipples, came back into view. My white skin seemed to glow in the gathering twilight and I wiggled them back and forth. “See? No tricks. I promise.”

He stood there, gaping. I almost sighed, but I thought that might be rude. So I looked down, saw the cuffs, grabbed them, and held them up. “See? I can put these back on,” I said, clicking the first one open and putting it on my wrist. His eyes widened and I brought my other hand up. A second later I was back in the cuffs. I wasn’t worried of course. With my hands bound in front of me I could easily go pick up the clover clamps chain and unlock them again.

I licked my lips hungrily and stepped closer to him. “Put your hands on my breasts,” I whispered. “Squeeze them. Please? It will feel good. I swear.” Slowly, hesitantly, he did as I asked, barely cupping me. I let out a dark, sultry moan. “Oh yes, that feels so good. I like it.” But then he didn’t do anything more than squeeze. “Touch the tips,” I urged. “Rub them. Get the blood flowing through them again, please? I need it.”

With my hands cuffed in front of me, down low, it was easy for me to lift them just a bit and find the growing bulge in his running shorts. He let out a gasp as I fondled him and his fingers became a little more exploratory. My nipples were tingling and I closed my eyes. “Don’t you want to taste me?” I asked. “Suck on my tits?” My fingers squeezed and pulled on his prick even as he began to bend down. “Yes. Yes. Please… “

His mouth latched on my pierced nipple, teasing it and a rush of sensation washed over me. I pushed my cuffed hands between my own legs, tearing at the straps holding in the Rotating Venus Penis toy, trying to get it out of my pussy. I heard myself saying something along the lines of “yes, please fuck me. Use me. Hurt me.” Or something to that effect. His hand moved between my legs and finished what I started, pulling the plastic bug out. I gasped as I was emptied and the harness, only half opened, slid down my legs. I stepped out of it, his mouth still on my breast.

“Now, please. There’s condoms in that little purse by the tree,” I said. We broke apart and I bent over and grabbed the little bag. Even with my hands bound together I had no trouble opening it, extracting a small package, and tearing it open. When I turned back to him he’d pushed his running shorts down and there he was in all his glory. Long and strong. I went to him, sliding the condom onto his prick, sheathing him quickly. Then I sat down in the grass and laid back, legs open, cuffed hands above my head.

“This is totally fucked up,” he said, looking down at me, as if the whole situation was surreal. I shook my head.

“No. I need to be fucked up,” I said, gesturing for him to come down on me. “Fuck me. I’m all yours,” I wheedled, showing him my cuffed wrists again.

He took a deep breath, then knelt down. He positioned his cock at my dripping slit and in one, solid, full powered thrust, impaled me to the hilt.

I loved it.

Our motions were almost frantic and I groaned and moaned as he pummeled my loins, screwing me solidly with powerhouse locomotion. My world spun and twirled and I wrapped my legs around him, arching my spine, head thrown back as the pure relief of getting screwed stupid wiped away the aches and pains of the last three hours. Never mind the small stone at my right hip, or the stick poking me under the left shoulder. It was awesome and as both of us built up toward climax I could feel the sweet bliss overwhelming me.

He came first.

I felt his orgasm shudder through him, but experienced it most acutely between my legs. His cock turned to granite, shook, then throbbed, emptying itself of vital life fluids, which my body would have willingly accepted if not for the prophylactic reservoir that held them back. I groaned, pumping my hips, needing relief, only to feel him start to soften. I let out a sob of frustration as he pulled out of me, staring down at my body.

“Sorry,” he said simply.

I panted and nodded. “I know. I know. It’s okay,” I said to myself. “I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut and it’s your needs not mine, that are important.”

“What?” He said in total confusion.

I sat up. “Can I suck your cock, sir?” I begged. “Please?”

He blinked. “Um. I’m good now. Thanks.” He stood up, stripped the condom off and tossed it into the bushes. I got to my knees and swiveled forward, hands up between my breasts.

“Please sir, let me get you hard again,” I whispered. I scooted forward and he took a step back.

“Really. I’m fine. Thanks.” He coughed. “You should, you know, get up. Let me unlock your wrists.”

I let out a little hysterical laugh. “Unlock me?” I shook my head. “I don’t deserve to be unlocked. I’m a fuck slut. A pain slut.” I put my hands down and thrust my tits out. “If you won’t let me suck you, then punish me. Clamp my tits again.”

His eyes widened and I got that “crazy bitch” look again. “You want me to put the clamps back on?”

I rolled my eyes and climbed to my feet. I spun around and found the clamps. Then I picked up the RVP, the stupid little cock dirty with leaves. “Sure! Why not! Stuff me again too while you’re at it! Leave me cumming against the tree.” I whirled and held it all out to him.

His eyes were a little wild, but he took the butterfly toy and the clamps. I spread my legs wide, practically daring him to do it. Then he wiped the phallus of the RVP with his hands, cleaning off the leaves. Slowly he slid it back up between my legs and worked it into my hole. I groaned, pumping my hips lewdly.

“Yes, Oh yes,” I whispered. He knelt and quickly redid the harness, strapping it all in. “Turn it on,” I begged. He found the controls and this time I knew both sliders went to maximum because the synthetic cock inside me spun up out of control. I felt the waves of pleasure. It wasn’t going to take minutes. It was going to take seconds.

“The clamps,” I begged. “Please! Put the clamps on me.”

He bit his lip, but nodded. Then he grabbed me by the arm and pushed me. The little clearing spun and even as the orgasm built between my legs, I found myself leaning against the tree. A sharp pinch on my right nipple came and then his hand was on my back, pushing me forward. I felt the rough bark between my breasts and then my left nipple burned.

“There,” he said hurriedly. “All clamped.”

I panted and the orgasm hit me like a brick. I cried out in lustful need, exploding wetly, splattering the tree. My vision swam and white spots dotted the inside of my eyelids. The toy between my legs dug and spun and shook, sending a second wave of sweet orgasmic bliss through me. My labored breathing shattered the night even as my lustful moans filled the little clearing. Adrenaline kept me upright and trembling.

Until it didn’t.

I sagged against the tree, the sharp bite of the clover clamps on my nipples finally working through the sexual euphoria. I took a shuddering breath.

“That… that was amazing,” I said softly. “Can you let me go now?”

Crickets chirped.

“Sir?” I said, looking around. The darkness was pretty deep, the last vestiges of the sun gone. My eyes tried to pierce the shadows. “Sir?”

Silence. Cold, hard, silence.

I pulled backward in sudden alarm, only to get stopped short by the chain, tugging on my tits. My nipples got stretched painfully and worse, the clamps tightened abominably. My hands were down by my pussy and I managed to snag the wire and pull the controller to the RVP up. I slid the twin stats downward, slowing and reducing both the spin and rumble between my legs.

“Oh. Oh shit,” I said, to no one in particular. I looked down at the tree and my chest, wincing. My nipples were already starting to throb. Well… fuck.

I waited. Ten, twenty minutes. I’m not sure. The RVP spun inside me. I was wet. I was desperate. My nipples hurt badly. And then… then I heard footsteps, even over the sound of the motors between my legs. For the umpteenth time I weighed my options. My entire body ached and my nipples throbbed agonizingly every time I made the mistake of tipping away from the tree. I sucked in a painful breath, tilted my head back, and said the words loudly. Again.

“Help! Please! Help me!” I yelled. I listened.

And yes. The footsteps had stopped.

Thank God.

Breanne, for this assignment you will need marginally warm weather, a skimpy halter top easily pulled upward or downward to expose your magnificent chest, a pleated short skirt, your Rotating Venus Penis, a set of clover clamps, and a pair of handcuffs. Don't forget the key. Once appropriately attired, you will drive to a public, but hopefully for you, secluded location. I suggest a jogging trail, where you can move a little ways into the woods. Attach the cuff key to the chain connecting the clover clamps, right in the middle. Find an appropriately sized tree, post, or signpost, bare your breasts, and clip the clover clamps so that the chain goes AROUND the tree or post. Turn the RVP to maximum. Now cuff yourself with your hands behind your back.

There are two ways to get free. First, you can pull until you manage to tug the clover clamps off your tits, thus allowing the chain to drop, giving you the ability to get the key and uncuff yourself. But that will hurt. A lot. I don’t think you have the guts to do it. It might even tear your nipples. Think about that. Which means method number 2. Call for help from a passerby. That’s right. Call for help. Plead. Beg. Explain your situation, how you put yourself in bondage because you are a nympho humiliation pain slut. What if your savior ends up being just another torment? Do you really think men will save you? Let’s find out.