Friday, April 7, 2017

Thumbs Down - Attempt Three



Attempt Three  

Lunch wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I waddled out to Kari’s car, looking like the perfect slut, the front of my dress still extremely damp, with the clover clamps still hanging from my tits. I kept both arms wrapped across my chest to hide the offending steel, not to mention the see-thru qualities of my attire, but I still must have been a sight to see, just between the thigh high hem, the streaks of wetness on my legs, the strange waddle caused by both the toothbrush and the burning of the On4Her cream, and the nine inch, platform heels that I call my “fuck me now shoes.”

Things didn’t get easier in the car. Kari didn’t turn on the toothbrush, but she made me drop my arms and I know for a fact a number of Houston’s drivers got to see us go whizzing by, me with my clamped breasts on display.

But by the time we arrived the cotton had dried back to its mostly original color and Kari leaned over and unclipped the clover clamps from my nipples. I sighed in relief, especially since we were at a nice restaurant and the last thing I wanted was the clover clamps and chain hanging from my tits. Honestly, my guess is that even Kari knew that the place would object. She put the chain in her purse and off we went.

Lunch was delicious and mostly tame. Once she made me turn on the toothbrush, but just for a moment, and the rest of the time we talked. I had an amazing sweet corn and lobster ravioli while Kari went with the duck breast. One thing I have to admit about working with Kari - lunch is my new favorite meal of the day. When I was a farmgirl lunch meant franks and beans.

We ate, then when we got back out to her convertible, she put the top down. I cringed, hoping to get spared, but the moment she stuck the key in the ignition, she smiled and handed me the clover clamps again.

“I know you are supposed to be making your attempts every two hours, and that you have forty minutes before you are going to make your last display, hoping I’ll give you what you’re craving. But I’m allowing you another chance. Put on the clover clamps, turn on the toothbrush. Expose yourself. Masturbate right to the edge. Totally give into your surroundings. Let me and anyone who sees you enjoy you. And maybe, maybe, I’ll let you cum.”

I gaped at her. “You want me to masturbate - in the car?” She nodded. I bit my lower lip. “Do I have an option?”

“Do you mean do you have to do it?” Kari shook her head. “No. But as soon as we get back to the office there will be no more attempts to earn an orgasm. You’ll go directly to the punishment closet where you will strip, put on the wrist binders, lock yourself into the frame, and prepare yourself for a whipping.” She leaned toward me. “I will not be nice.”

I swallowed hard. Then, squirming in my seat, I yanked the back of my dress out from under my ass, pulled it up to my waist, exposing the black thong, and then lifted even more. By the time I yanked the dress off over my head, Kari was pulling into traffic.

Oh my fucking god.

I closed my eyes, which was the only way I could deal with what was happening. If you hear news reports of some half naked woman being driven around Houston in a red convertible, it’s probably me. I quickly put the clamps back on my now very bare, very exposed tits, and then reached down between my legs, pulled the thong out of the way, and turned on the toothbrush. Immediately I groaned as it buzzed inside me and all the pressure from the earlier attempt to please Kari, not to mention the humiliation and embarrassment of being paraded around like this, came rushing back at me like a freight train. In less than a minute my hips were churning like the sea during a storm and I wasn’t just holding the toothbrush in. I was fucking it like there was no tomorrow. I could feel the bristles inside me, brushing against my insides. The On4Her had faded, but the larger handle spread me open and I kicked off my shoes and put my right foot up on the dash, knees open, pleasuring myself. The wind flew past me, tangling my hair, caressing my legs, but it also swirled around my toes, against my bare feet.

Up ahead, I could see the cliffs of orgasm. This was no stately advance, no steady march. This was a sprint, a race, chugging and churning as fast as I could toward the abyss. I didn’t even realize I’d made the decision until it was too late. I heard Kari make a sharp exclamation of surprise, then her anger, but I didn’t even respond to it. It was too late. I suppose I could have tried to stop, skidded in the dust and stone, fingers scrabbling to avoid the pitfall ahead, but I didn’t she was going to torture me anyway, right? And then there it was, an open expanse, the orgasm itself. I jumped hard and far and screamed in utter exhilaration, in defiance, in sweet surrender.

When we got back to the office she let me put my dress back on and her demeanor was icy. I cringed and refused to make eye contact, mostly because I was afraid laser beams were going to shoot out of her eyes and burn me to a crisp on the spot. The moment she unlocked the door and we stepped into our little demesne she looked at me, pointed a finger, and said “punishment frame. Now.”

And off I went.

I peeled my dress off for the second time and left it in the hallway by the kitchenette. I didn’t dare remove the clover clamps on my breasts. But I did tug the thong down, catching the toothbrush as it slipped from between my petals. I dropped the motorized toothbrush on the floor. I kicked the black panties aside and then found myself standing in front of the punishment closet door. I opened it and flipped on the single light which illuminated a black steel frame. To my right were a number of hooks above a narrow shelf and I let my hand go past the flogger, the quirt, the leather sap, and even the cane, in order to pluck the two leather bondage cuffs off the last retainer. I buckled them on myself, experience guiding me. Then I put my back to the frame, lifted my arms, and attached the metal clips to the hoops embedded in the cuffs.

Could I have freed myself? Yes. It would have taken some effort, and stretching, but I could have done it. Even after I put my heel on the pump that raised the frame up on the hydraulic jack. Or is it pneumatic? I can never remember. I lifted myself up until my feet were no longer on the floor and I spread my legs to either side of the two poles sticking straight out from the frame. Then there was nothing to do but wait and wonder.

Kari came a few minutes later, bearing my dress, panties, and even the toothbrush. She dumped them in a pile near the door, then looked up at me. She lifted a hand and touched my cheek, running her fingers down my chest.

“You are a terrible, naughty girl,” she said quietly. “You deliberately came, knowing you were not permitted such largess.”

I blinked. “What does that mean?” I asked.

Then I saw it. A smirk. A smile? Was she pretending to be mad? But then I got distracted as she reached up, grabbed the clamp on my left breast, and twisted it to the right.

Ow.

Her foot darted out between my legs. There are two hydraulic pumps. The one lifting me up I’d already extended. The other spread the two posts between my legs. Slowly my feet rose as my legs were forced outward. The posts pressed against my thighs, lifting and pushing uncomfortably until I had no choice but to hold my legs up. Then I settled back down, the posts behind each knee, my spread pussy wide open and tilted toward Kari. She let go of my nipple as I gasped, tears flooding my eyes.

“Did that hurt?” She asked wickedly, suddenly smiling big. I nodded frantically. “Are these the clover clamps with the ridges?”

I shook my head back and forth, sniveling. “No, Mistress.”

Then Kari grabbed the chain and yanked. Hard.

I sharp, hard cry escaped from my lips as the clover clamps tried to tighten, but the friction between my nipples and the smooth pincers of the clamps wasn’t enough to keep them on. Still, it hurt like hell and I shook and pulled hard on my bondage cuffs, lifting myself up and off the posts between my legs. Kari reached up and grabbed both breasts, kneading them even though she stayed away from my nipples, until I came back down, trembling.

“There, there,” she whispered, letting go and stroking my sides. I let out a choked sob. She brought her left hand up between my legs, her fingers spreading my folds apart, rubbing my clit, dipping slightly into my well. I was already wet. And aching. Oh God… aching.

She worked me until I wasn’t crying, and as my chest rose and fell with my panting, she twisted, grabbed three of the forceps clamps and began applying them, one to each nipple, and then the third and last one went on my clitoris. I began to blubber.

“Please, Kari! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” I whimpered as she fixed each of the metal studded pads on me. The wires leading from each clamp seemed to caress my skin with evil intent. Kari ignored me and reached for the TENS Unit.

“Kari! Please! I’m sorry I came! It was an accident!” I begged.

Her eyes came up, fingers poised above the control box. “Was it really?” She asked.

Our eyes met and then it all came to me. I lowered my gaze and with a single word, sealed my fate.

“No.”

Pain exploded between my legs and at the tips of my breasts and another sharp little cry escaped my throat. I went rigid, trembling violently for what seemed like an eternity before she turned down the TENS Unit to something I could tolerate. I hung there, panting, just trying to focus on breathing while the tips of my breasts seemed pulse with pain, giant invisible fingers pinching them hard every few seconds. My clitoris burned.

“I didn’t think so,” Kari said, turning the TENS Unit down even more. I sagged in my bonds. It didn’t feel good, but it didn’t hurt either. Kari put the controller down and picked up a set of vibroballs. These she worked into my pussy, only to turn them up to maximum. I groaned, my body confused.

“Do you know what?” Kari mused as she brushed a strand of my hair out of my face. “I realized, and maybe you did too, that there was just one performance you could possibly undertake that would justify an orgasm, or even two.” She kissed me, gently. Right on the lips. “This one.” She pulled back admiring my twitching form, my thrusting hips, my heaving chest, the wetness of my cheeks and thighs. She glanced at her watch.

“It’s just after one now. I’ll be back at two to whip you. Then, maybe, I’ll give you that thumbs up.” She put her hand between my legs and I gasped when she forced her thumb up into my pussy, pushing aside one of the vibroballs. “Just the way you like it,” she whispered. Then she pulled her hand away, and to my surprise, sucked my juice off her own hand. She backed out of the closet. Just as she was about to leave me to stew, I couldn’t help myself.

“Kari? What if I cum before you get back?” I asked, feeling the dark longings inside me. An hour? Suffering the low level shocks to my nipples and clit? The vibroballs churning inside me? Spread open like this? Bound and tormented with her just down the hall, listening to my whimpers?

Kari grinned. “Then I’ll still whip you. Except it will just be me getting a happy ending.”

Then she disappeared. I counted the pulses. Two second intervals. A sharp squeeze to each nipple. Then one between the legs. On and on. One hundred seventy one. Three hundred and forty seven. Six hundred and … and … Oh. Oh God. Oh… please. No. No. Please… Oh… Fuck! AHHHh. No! SHIT. Please! Kari! Please! I can’t! I’m not supposed to! I don’t want…


2 comments:

  1. always such an awesome read.Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I think Breanne could use more time with the TENS unit. Maybe with an attached butt plug?

    H

    ReplyDelete

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