Saturday, April 15, 2017

Try Again

“Try not to cum,” Kari whispered to me out of the side of her mouth. I blinked at her in confusion, my mouth opening to protest, but Karen Oswald was already approaching, her high heels clicking on the marble floor, and the last thing I needed to do was stand there, gaping like a fish. The lobby of the building was two stories and fortunately empty except for a grizzled security officer who seemed to be napping at his desk, one hand propping up his head. I glared at Kari, who stood there looking impeccably perfect in her crimson colored suit, gold jewelry glittering at her ears and wrists. She pushed her elbow into my side, forcing my attention back to the front and I snapped my jaw closed just as a gorgeous woman, in her late thirties, approached us. Tall and with a wealth of brown hair with copper highlights, she was dressed in an expensive, dark blue business suit that emphasized her curves and her shoes were sharp tipped and high enough to look good, but low enough to be sensible. Blue sapphires glittered at her ears and her throat held a matching stone that helped the conservative, yet still feminine neckline of her blouse.

Me? Well, I was the stray daisy planted in a bed of roses.

“Kari, it’s so good to see you again,” Oswald said, holding out both arms and giving Kari one of those non-hug hugs. I’ve never understood that practice, not that it makes me uncomfortable, but then, I’d never met Karen Oswald before. The two women practically touched cheeks and then broke apart smiling. I stood there, feeling quite out of place. Karen Oswald then turned slightly toward me.

“And who is this delightful young lady?” Oswald asked, her eyes glittering with interest. Kari chuckled and gestured toward me.

“Karen, this is my assistant, Breanne. I brought her along with me today in order to take notes and measurements.”

Karen Oswald gave me a long look and I couldn’t help feeling just a little unsettled. Her eyes were just a little too blue and there was a depth in them that touched me just a bit to intimately. There was something predatory in her examination and it caused me a momentary imbalance. But then her smile deepened. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Breanne.” She held out her hand.

Nervously I took her hand with a light grip, hoping my palm wasn’t sweaty. The business executive held my fingers and then, much to my surprise, I got a caress, her fingers swirling across my palm in a very unprofessional manner. The palm of the hand is often overlooked by folks as an erogenous zone, but there are tons of nerve endings in there. Don’t believe me? Try a light caress in the center of your palm. It can drive you crazy. My eyes widened and I couldn’t help gulping. I’m not always the most astute of people, but I honestly felt like Karen Oswald was paying a hell of a lot more attention to me than to Kari.

“You’re dress is adorable. You wear it well,” Karen said, eyes sparkling, her smile huge. She still hadn’t let go of my hand.

I swallowed. “Uh … thank you,” I replied in a voice better suited for an audition at Disney World - as a cartoon character. I still felt seriously out of my depth. With my one free hand I smoothed down the dress Karen liked, an apricot-colored, party dress Kari had bought me. It had a plunging neckline that dipped well below the bottoms of both breasts, sequined designs swirling up from the hem, which in and of itself was positioned somewhere between intriguingly daring and dangerously obscene. The top of the dress barely contained my breasts and leaning over more than twenty degrees in any direction would either leave me exposed, or actually cause my bosom to fall out. Worse, there was no way to wear a bra, so my nipples were both acutely on display, pierced with enough hardware to set off a TSA metal detector.

A shiver shot through me as Karen stroked the center of my palm. Goosebumps rose on my forearm as the excited tingle flash up the underside of my arm, only to rotate to my shoulder. Then it shot across my breasts and my nipples tightened, making the front of my dress even more of a display. That rush then shot down through me, straight to one certain area, under the black lace panties I wore, and entire lower half tightened around the thick, twelve inch rod buried deep in my sex. I resisted the urge to thrust my hips forward. I felt a burst of wetness and thanked God that the Monster Vibe wasn’t on.

The rest of this story is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but is available for purchase, contained in Breanne Erickson's book "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 16."  Get it now at!


Thursday, April 6, 2017

Thumbs Down - Attempt One

Attempt One

They say that much planning goes into seduction, and since I’d been given a day and a half to contemplate just how this one was going to go, I’d given it some serious thought. Obviously attire was going to be a major issue, and with that in mind I’d eschewed my normal procedure that morning and donned blue jeans and a tee shirt for my morning foray to work.

Now before you go ballistic, screaming aloud and emailing Julie about how Breanne was in violation of NHPS Rules, you have to understand that I was still stuffed to the brim with my Core Driller dildo - 12 inches of solid but flexible rubber, shaped like a rocket, that was firmly and completely embedded in my slit, held in with a black lace thong and firmly buttoned denim. And despite the seemingly wholesome appearance of my attire, the tee shirt I was wearing was soft pink, with the shadow image of a naked woman in high heels, bending over at the waist, with the words “Stay Slutty” written next to her, as if the words themselves were banging her in the ass. I’d also taken a knife to the shirt. The collar now dipped down to a point where my boobs were practically hanging out, and since I’d trimmed the bottom hem, a good portion of my belly was now exposed as well.

The jeans weren’t exactly in pristine condition either. I’d say they were holey, but extremely well ventilated might be a better term. The fact that I was wearing a thong left some distinctly flesh-colored bits showing. Add in my stripper shoes and I still looked distinctly slutty.

Not bad, right?

I walked into the office at about 8:30am and as expected, Jose - our building’s day porter, was mopping the atrium. His face brightened as I came in and he told me I looked very pretty. I rolled my eyes. Jose and I have a strange relationship. Despite having had his cock in my mouth multiple times, I still felt like I needed to keep him at arms distance. Still, he never pushed, never asked. But it was obvious he was making himself available if I needed something to suck on. Instead I unlocked the office door and went in. I chucked my black duffle bag down on the floor by the desk and started the normal process of opening up for the day.

Kari came in at nine. Precisely.

She was wearing a St. John jacket over a sheath dress, in matching colors and her gold hair spilled down over the shoulders in straight lines. Gold marked her ears, throat, waist, wrist, and finger, and if the diamond on her wedding ring was any bigger she’d need a truck and few slaves to carry it around for her. She carried a stylish, leather attaché case and she stopped in her tracks when she saw me. A distinct look of disapproval was on her face.

“Dressing down I see?” She said sternly and I had to take a deep breath to still the trepidation I was feeling. I knew this was a risk, even with my tits half hanging out, or bits of my ass showing right through the jeans. She had every right to just order me to the back closet, strip, and hang me on the punishment frame. I braced myself for just that, when Kari stopped and read my shirt. Finally she pointed a finger at me.

“That just saved you, but I would appreciate in the future you wearing one of the outfits I’ve selected for you.”  Then she paused. “Though if you wish to wear that outfit again on one of our demolition days I wouldn’t object.” She turned and walked down that hall and I let out a sigh of relief.

Fifteen minutes later I stood up, wobbling for just a second on the nine inch platform heels. I’d opened my duffle bag and pulled out a small bundle of cloth. With an eye on the atrium, I turned down the hall and slowly sauntered into Kari’s office. She was on the phone and she gave me a warm look as I walked in. I set the bundle of material on the chair.

“No. I need it by the seventeenth. That was what we agreed upon,” she said darkly, but not at me. Into the phone. Her eyes met mine and she grimaced, then pointed at the phone. I nodded and smiled.

“Can you use some other material then?” Kari asked. As she spoke I reached up, grabbed the front of my Still Slutty shirt, and tugged the material downward. The slit in the collar opened and a half second later both of my breasts were hanging out, bare and perfect. Kari’s eyes widened and then her mouth curled up into a huge smile. She nodded at me.

So I took off the shirt, tossing it onto one of the chairs opposite her desk. Make no mistake - I was still standing in the doorway. While not as exposed as I might have been at my desk in the little lobby, if anyone had come in at that moment they would have seen me stripping.

Naked from the waist up, my nipples hardened instantly and the little, gold padlock that dangled from my right breast danced. I gave Kari one of my most wicked smiles and popped the button of my jeans, rolling my hips back and forth, side to side. It looked good, but mostly it made the foot long dildo inside me move. I could feel the fluids swirl and as I pushed down my jeans, exposing the thong, I couldn’t help moaning. Softly.

“Okay. Yes. That would be acceptable. Yes. That will be fine. Thank you,” Kari said into the phone, her eyes locked on my gyrating form. “Now what about the stone?”

I slipped one foot out of my stripper shoes, then the other, and the denim ended up on the floor. I immediately put the shoes back on, doing it all slinky and feminine. The Core Driller dildo, no longer held in by the combined strength of the lace thong and my jeans, was stretching the crotch of my thong outward and my pulsing slit wasn’t helping things stay in place. I reached between my legs, put one foot up on Kari’s desk, and grabbed the base of the dildo. It slid outward, around my thong, and ten inches of slick, black, well lubricated rubber came out of my sex.

Kari’s eyes were locked on my pussy, but she nodded. “I’d prefer the Colorado, if you don’t mind,” she said roughly.

I slid the dildo back in, eyes half closing. Behind me I knew that I was in full view, or at least my ass was, and there would be no doubt that I was thrusting twelve inches of rubber into my pussy. But I ignored the risk that someone would enter and pumped away. I let out another groan. My wrist moved with precision and pure, unadulterated bliss rose up from between my legs. Extreme pleasure accompanied every thrust and droplets of moisture spread from my labia to my thighs. I pumped slowly and thoroughly, trying to make sure that every thrust took as much of the dildo as I could comfortably handle.

Kari’s eyes watched hungrily. “I think that looks better wet. Don’t you?” She asked into the phone. I let out a little chuckle, nodding. Then, just for dramatics, I pulled the Core Driller dildo completely out of my box, brought my leg down, turned around, put a foot back up on one of the guest chairs, and slid the full length back into my slit, but from behind.

My, oh my, it felt good. And now I was only partially exposed to passersby!

With my back to Kari I couldn’t see her face, but I was getting pretty sauced. Waves of delight bubbled up from between my legs and I brought a hand up to pinch a nipple. Pressure began to build, shifting and swirling inside me as I worked myself toward orgasm.

“Alright. Thank you. Have a good day,” Kari said, hanging up the phone.

I moaned, loudly, driving the thick, black, rubber dildo in deep. From behind.

“I presume you’re going to ask for permission to cum, before exploding all over my desk,” Kari asked wryly.

I nodded and twisted my head to look back at her. “Better than that,” I panted. “I just need a thumbs up or a thumbs down.”

Kari’s eyebrow went up. “Crude, yet effective. And the affirmative indicates?”

“That I can cum,” I replied, my voice tight and high. Just a bit more and I’d be popping.

“Why on earth would I grant you that privilege?” She asked curiously.

I groaned, this time with dramatic feeling. “Because you like my performance?” Now I could feel it. I was getting close. If she was going to allow me to cum, she needed to grant me permission. Soon.

Kari was silent and I kept pushing the dildo in and out. My labored breathing was the only sound, punctuated by the growing intensity of my moans. Then the cliff appeared.

I’m speaking, of course, of the metaphorical “cliffs of orgasm,” a giant chasm at the top of the mountain, where a girl stands there on the brink, the very edge. Desperation and longing are on one side, while satisfaction and hedonistic bliss lie upon the other. How you approach that edge makes the difference and this time I came to it with a steady, measured pace. I glanced back at Kari.

“Kari? Please?” I begged, wanting to cum. The dildo slid in and out. She watched me silently.

Another full thrust of ten inches. I whimpered. The dildo began to slide out and Kari raised her hands. Her thumb extended and for a second my breath caught in my throat. Then she rotated her entire hand until her thumb pointed downward.


“I’m sorry, Bre. But that just isn’t enough,” she said sadly. “You can’t cum.”

I closed my eyes and pushed the dildo back in. Then, with unsteady fingers, pushed the base back up into my thong. My entire body felt strained and uncomfortable and I slowly turned back around. Kari and I looked at each other. Part of me felt disappointed, but I’d known that her approving the orgasm wasn’t likely. I’d sort of expected it. After a moment I turned, grabbed the cloth bundle I’d brought with me and left in the chair, and shook it out. A summer dress erupted in my hands and I slid it on over my head.

It was an Ibiza, one that Kari had bought me last summer. White and cut tight, you could see the black outline of my thong with a clarity that was almost disturbing. The pink circles of my areola, not to mention the hardware hanging from my nipples, were also in distinct due to the translucent view. I bent down slowly to get my jeans and tee shirt, and then with a shrug, left Kari to her own devices.

And me? I had mine.

Stay tuned! More cumming! - Love Bre