Saturday, March 25, 2017

Jackhammered



Kari gave me a look of consternation as she walked up to the office building. I was leaning against the wall, right near the outer door, arms crossed over my chest, a look of smug satisfaction on my face. She herself was dressed in blue jeans, a gray designer tee shirt with some sort of black crest on, and a button up over shirt that she’d artfully left open. Dark, brown, leather boots finished the outfit and looked far too expensive to get dirty.

I, on the other hand, had been requested to wear something a little different from my classier, goddess of a boss. Instead of blue jeans, my creamy white legs were exposed, my loins jammed into a pair of extremely short, denim shorts, so tight that anyone looking at my sticks had to wonder how blood was circulating. Instead of a tee shirt, my boobs were covered with a blue, almost translucent bikini top, the bottoms of which were back at my apartment. My feet were jammed into a pair of decent work boots, cowgirl style, and I wore my hat to ward off the sun.

Oh yeah - and I had on one other thing. A similar shirt as Kari - a button down the front, cotton long sleeve, except while hers was exposing the tee shirt, mine was tied just under my breasts, doing a better job of concealing my curves than the blue swimsuit. She didn’t even bother to say good morning.

“That’s going to cost you,” Kari warned, eyeing my attire. I sighed and gestured around.

“You wanted me to stand in front of the office, with my tits hanging out?” I protested.

Kari gave me a stern look. “Yes. That’s exactly what I wanted. Is the RVP on at least?”

I gave her a blank stare, but inside I was feeling a tremor of fear. Slowly I shook my head. I hadn’t turned on the sex toy because I knew I couldn’t handle it. Even on low it would only be a matter of an hour before I popped, both loudly and wetly.

Kari frowned. “On. Now. On high.”

The blush on my face faded as I went white. “Kari? Please. Not high,” I begged softly, glancing around again.

Kari pretended to look thoughtful. “Perhaps I’ll allow you to suffer one of the functions on low,” she said amiably. She leaned in, an angry look on her face “If you take off that goddamned shirt.” Then she smiled warmly again.

Mental torment is kind of Kari’s specialty. Okay, technically “Breanne Torment” is her specialty. But I shrugged out of the shirt, exposing my bikini bound boobs, and handed her the shirt. She took it smugly, then stared at me until I plucked the wired controller for the RVP out of my back pocket, the pink wire disappearing into my waistband in a very obvious and disturbing manner, meant to make someone look. I held out the little box and she pulled on it, forcing me a step closer via the control wire.
“Brace yourself,” she said softly. Then she cranked up the controls to maximum.

Beneath the extremely tight denim of my shorts, jammed directly against my clitoris, was the proboscis of a bug shaped piece of plastic. About the size of my palm, this plastic formed the base of a particular sex toy called a Rotating Venus Penis, which consisted of two separate motors, one which vibrated the entire toy from end to end, and another which caused a four inch long, silicon covered, slightly off-set phallus, to rotate at various speeds. In short, the damn thing cause two very separate and extreme sensations. I’ve likened it to being butter churned during an earthquake. On the lowest setting I’m good for an hour, maybe an hour and a half. On medium you can expect me to cum in ten to fifteen minutes. On high?

Don’t bother going to get popcorn. I’ll be climaxing before you get back.

I stiffened, eyes wide, mouth half open as the rushing earthquake between my legs started up, easily audible through the single layer of denim separating the motors and everything around me. My clit, sensitive, slightly swollen, and suffering from a full fourteen hours of denial, was pressed directly against the RVP base. That translated into an immediate urgency of sexual need. My knees swung in together and buckled, and I groaned as I pressed my thighs to each other, twisting as the four inch cock inside me began a maelstrom like movement, stirring the pot with single-minded intensity.

Kari plucked her keys out of her purse and gave me a winsome smile. “I need to get something out of the office,” she said simply. “You can wait her for me.”

I croaked out some sort of acknowledgement, my teeth locked together as I struggled not to make any noise. Then Kari pushed past me, opened the door to the atrium, and disappeared inside, leaving me to dance.

For the first three minutes I was alone and I’m not sure why I tried to hold off, to resist the incessant stimulation. Maybe if I’d just gone along and cum, teasing my own nipples, or hell, even exposing myself, baring my breasts and pinching each pierced nipple lightly, I’d have gotten through it enough so that when Mr. Thompson, the attorney on the third floor, pulled into the parking lot, I’d have been able to stand straight, ignore my near nudity, and greet him with a controlled smile. Instead, he climbed out of his Lexus, strolled across the lot straight toward me, his mouth curled up in a grin.

“Good morning, Breanne. Are you okay?” He asked with a knowing look. My reputation around the building isn’t exactly pristine.

I swallowed hard, the orgasm threatening to burst through and I realized that trying to hold back from jumping off that cliff was not going to work. I looked up at him, panic in my eyes as I nodded, my fake, three million watt, please fuck me stupid smile, writ large upon my face. My voice came out high pitched.

“Oh! Good morning, Mr. Thompson! I’m fine!” I gasped, bending slightly at the waist as another storm surge of acute pleasure hit me like a hurricane’s wave. I wished, with all my heart, that he’d just go on in, leaving me alone, so that I could jam a knuckle into my mouth, scream in rapture, and fall to the ground bucking.

“I have to admit that your outfit is quite nice. Going swimming today?” He asked pleasantly, as if we were just chatting. The sparkle in his eye told me outright that he knew exactly what was happening. He was waiting for it. But something inside me resisted. I didn’t want him witnessing my loss of control.

“Demolition day,” I said, stifling another groan. “We’re tearing out two retaining walls and a sidewalk, along with a lot of landscaping.”

He took that information in. “Ah yes. I really should have Ms. Anders come over and design my office interior. It would be nice seeing more of you.”

Then the leecher actually eye-fucked me, right there. The leer in his voice, the clear indication in his eye. It was too much. My poor little clit and pussy couldn’t take it. I groaned and put my head down as I exploded, the orgasm rushing through me. I fell backward slightly, my ass against the wall as I put my hands on my knees. Thompson watched with a hungry stare as I brought one hand up to my chest, fingers digging at the padlock.

Just then the door behind me opened and Kari came out. She took one look at the situation and then a beaming smile crossed her face and she walked right up to the two of us.

“Jerome! It’s so nice to see you! How are you doing?” She asked, coming to stand right by my shaking body.

Mr. Thompson shrugged. “Oh, you know how it is, Kari. How’s business?” He asked. He wasn’t looking at me any more, at least not directly. Wave after wave of sweet euphoria hit me, flooding up from between my legs, endlessly churning as I swayed enough for Kari to put a hand on my shoulder. I felt her fingers at my neck, comforting me. I jammed one hand down between my legs, trying to stifle the trembling, but just making the noise of the vibrator that much more noticeable as it was stifled. I jammed a knuckle into my mouth as the two of them carried on a polite conversation, Kari’s hand still supporting me, keeping me from falling over, rubbing my shoulders …

Untying the goddamned knot holding up my bikini top.

When the material fell even Mr. Thompson let out a surprised “my goodness!” But I was too wrapped up in the explosion to care that my boobs were now on full display, right outside the building. The padlock dangling from the gold hoop piercing my right nipple jumped and jiggled and Kari did absolutely nothing to help me, nor expressed any surprise.

“You’ll have to forgive my assistant. She sometimes has these lapses,” Kari said apologetically as I began laughing hysterically, unable to control the flood of emotion and energy. Or was I sobbing? I’m not sure. A mix?

“Oh, it’s not a problem at all,” Thompson assured her. “We all love Breanne. She’s such a free spirit.”

Kari smiled. “Yes. That is exactly how I would describe her. So when are you going to let me decorate that dingy little cave you call an office?”

Thompson eyed me as I started to calm down, just a little. At least enough that I’d put my hands on my chest, covering my bare breasts.

Kari leaned forward. “Perhaps if I were to send Breanne up with a few pictures? A sort of sample book? You could go through them and she could report back to me what you like?”

Thompson suddenly grinned. “That would be lovely,” he admitted. “Have her call and set up an appointment. Shouldn’t take more than an hour,” he said, his eyes still looking at me.

“Or two,” Kari grinned. Then she looked back at me. “Here,” she said lovingly. “Let me help.”  She reached down, and with Thompson standing right there, began pulling my bikini top back up. My hands were in the way. “Move your hands, Bre.”

Jerome Thompson got another good look at my tits as Kari pulled my bikini top back into place. I turned, my cheeks crimson, totally mortified, as she tied my top back in place. Then her hands slid down my side and pulled the remote out of my back pocket.

“Ah. Here’s her problem,” Kari said with a knowing laugh. “I’ve told her not to leave this thing on high.” She pushed the controllers downward, but not off, and I felt the vibrations slow, even as the corkscrewing cock inside me decelerated. I let out a soft groan and wrapped both arms around myself.

“Well, she’s very spirited,” Thompson allowed. Sensing the show was over, he tipped his head toward Kari. “Ms. Anders,” he said politely, then he gave me an appreciative grin. “Breanne.” He walked past Kari and entered the building. Kari looked at me and the laughed.

“You’re very spirited,” she said wickedly, taking my elbow and propelling me toward her car.

I glared up at her, feeling a mixture of anger, exhaustion, bliss, pleasure, and acute embarrassment, all at once. “That was mean,” I said sullenly.

Kari moved her hand from my elbow to my arm and twisted me around. Her eyes flashed, this time with another touch of anger. For a second I thought she was going to slap me. Instead, she jammed her hand into her purse.

“No, Bre. This is mean.” She drew out a steel chain.

My eyes widened as she roughly yanked down the front of my bikini, baring my breasts once more, except this time with the material under them, supporting them. I sucked in a hard breath as she pinched open the clover clamps, letting each one bite a nipple. Pain shot up through both breasts, pulsing with my heartbeat. Kari backed away.

“Now get in the car,” she said.

I nodded, tears filling my eyes and I stumbled around to the other side, breasts hurting, hanging out, burning with shame. I yanked open the door and climbed in, fumbling, the RVP still swirling between my legs, still buzzing. Except now my nipples were throbbing too. Arousal. Shame. Humiliation. I shut the car door and wrapped my arms across my chest. I didn’t dare pull the bikini top up.

Kari got in, started the car. She glanced at me and sighed. “I love you, Bre.”

I nodded. Didn’t say anything.

“What are you feeling?”

“Guilt and humiliation,” I muttered. “I can’t believe I exploded like that. I can’t believe you undid my top!” I said, the words bursting from me.

Kari laughed. “And the orgasm you had?”

I thought back. It had been powerful. At least an eight or a nine. I blushed, realizing in totality what she’d done.

“Good,” I admitted. “Very good.”

Kari let out a satisfied sigh. Then she smirked. “Well, we’ve got some major demolition to do today. If you’re a good girl, and keep the men motivated, I just might let you run the jackhammer,” she said as I let out a soft groan. I put a hand between my legs, pressing the RVP back up tight against my sodden petals. The crotch of my jeans shorts was already quite dark and getting worse. I thrust my hips, the thought of holding onto a jackhammer, my breasts bouncing violently up and down, the RVP on full power, spinning and swirling, whipping my cream into a froth, was just the image I needed to excite every nerve for round two. I tugged the RVP controller out of my back pocket and I stretched and pulled the wire until it crossed the center console of the car, falling into Kari’s lap. She looked over at me, seeing my need, my arousal, my desperation. With a laugh she put her foot down on the gas, turned up the Rotating Venus Penis, both functions, to medium, and then said one more word as I imagined myself standing in the midst of a dozen men, holding a jackhammer, on the verge of cumming.

“Naked.”




Breanne Erickson is the author of "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" a series of escapades much like the one above, detailing the amazing adventures of Kari, Julie, and everyone's favorite NHPS - Breanne. Dive into her fascinating world and ride along with her as she slips from one sex-capade to another, detailing it all with humor, dry wit, and the inside scoop. If you aren't laughing along, you'll be cumming. Check out her amazing collection of ridiculously cheap books at Amazon.com!

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