Friday, April 7, 2017

Thumbs Down - Attempt Two

Attempt Two

It was eleven fifteen when I made my second attempt. I’d spent the last two hours writing and working on emails, and when I rose from my desk and opened my duffle bag, it was with an entirely new set of props that I took with me on my march back to Kari’s domain.

She wasn’t in her office and that was a bit of a relief to me. I’d spent the last two hours bouncing on the Core Driller dildo, desperately trying both not to cum and to cum, all at the same time. I knew if I’d gone back to that edge and jumped, all on my own like that, I’d end up on the punishment frame for sure.

I suppose I should explain the punishment frame. In general I’m not opposed to being stripped naked, shoved into a closet, hoisted up into the air by my arms, having my legs forced open with most of my weight being supported by two posts under my knees, while a TENS Unit is attached to my clit and nipples and set to “roast Breanne”. Or all of the above plus having clamps and weights attached to various points of my body. Or having Kari come in to relieve her stress with a good cardio workout - whipping my entire body with a flogger. One thing was for sure though - I wouldn’t be cumming at all. The Punishment Closet wasn’t meant for that.

I found Kari in her art room though and when I walked in she was working on her new computer. Kari is not a technology person, but when she saw some of the new 3-D modeling software for designers, she felt she had to break the ice. So one of her bookshelves had been removed and a side table had been added. I didn’t mind in the least, since the old bookcase was now in my bedroom.

Win. Win.

She was working on one of two dozen projects she currently had open and her drafting table was covered in hand sketches. The hand held scanner lay draped along the top of the slanted surface and it looked like she’d just moved something to the computer. She was busily typing away. I set down my stuff on the canvas, director’s stool that sat against the side wall, between the door and another set of bookcases. Then, with just one other item held in my hand, I turned toward Kari and began.

She was focused on the computer, so while she knew I was in the room, she didn’t even look at me as I held the glass up. It was filled with water, very cold water, and the remnants of the ice chips could be easily seen floating at the top. The glass itself was four inches wide, leaving more than enough room. So I stood there facing Kari, bent over slightly, and then, still wearing the Ibiza summer dress, stuck my entire left boob into the glass. I felt the rim tight against my flesh and my cloth covered nipple touched the cold water. Instantly my flesh hardened, but that wasn’t enough. I pressed the glass hard against my chest and straightened up, tipping the glass sideways.

Instantly the water soaked a circle of the dress right over my boob and I gasped as the cold seared me. I bent back over as Kari swiveled around to see what the commotion was about and even as water dripped back into the cup, I began moving the glass to the other side. Kari’s eyebrows went up as the dress turned totally see through, dripping from my tit, and I repeated the procedure on the right side, soaking that teat as well. I cried out, cringing as the cold seemed to pierce my nipple again, and when I straightened and pulled the glass away, I was left with a freezing, very visible front, with two, hard, raised nipples. Rivulets of water streamed down the front of my dress, soaking even more, but I reached back to the chair and pulled out one of the items I’d brought. Shaking it loose, I lifted the steel clover clamps along with their impressive and hefty chain. Then, clearly to Kari’s delight, I set the first clamp against my soaked, hardened, left nipple and let it close. Its match went on my other breast and I have to admit that the look was fetching. The clamps pinched both my nipples and the material of the dress perfectly, and the translucent quality of the white cotton was perfect.

Then I pulled up the hem.

The massive base of the foot long Core Driller dildo protruded from either side of the thong and instead of grabbing hold of the cock, I slipped my thumbs into the waistband of the panties. I began pushing them down and I closed my legs, catching hold of the dildo at the same time. I tugged the panties out from between my wet thighs and sent them down to my ankles. Then I reached between my legs, caught the Core Driller dildo, pumped it eagerly for a few moments, then pulled it completely out.

That probably surprised Kari, but the fact that I gave it a lovingly long lick didn’t. I set it down on the edge of her desk, a sort of sick, sexual offering. Her eyebrow went up, but then her lips curled up in a smile as I pulled a cheap, motorized toothbrush from the pile of stuff I’d left on the canvas, director’s stool. Then I picked up the tube. Kari’s eyes widened as I placed a small dab of the stuff right on the head of the toothbrush.

Did you know that dab is called a nurdel? I know because the internet told me. Admittedly, I do wonder if that name is specific to toothpaste because I’d put something very different on the head of my cheap, disposable toothbrush. I gave Kari a big smile, and with one hand holding the bottom of my dress upward, I pressed the nurdle of On4Her against my clit and turned on the brush.

As far as self-torment goes, I felt that this act of torture should have been more than sufficient to earn me my orgasm. Even as the brush started vibrating against my clitoris, the cool, icy tingle of the chemical stimulant chilled that same little spot, sensitizing it perfectly so that any additional irritation or stimulation would feel like someone was rasping my pussy with a buzzsaw. Thirty seconds later I was right back at the point where I needed to cum, the icy tingle had changed to concerted heat, and I was thinking that this particular attempt was going way faster than I had planned. My nipples throbbed from the cold and pinching tightness of the clover clamps and I looked up at Kari, hope in my eyes, as I masturbated right to the freaking edge, with a fucking, motorized toothbrush in front of her desk.

She lifted her hand and my heart thudded painfully with true longing and needful hope.

Thumbs down.

I swallowed and pulled the toothbrush away, but the chemical continued to burn at my pussy. Some of the gel had even melted, flowing down the folds of my pussy. I stood there, still too wired to move, afraid that if I did anything I might accidentally cum.

“You haven’t sufficiently suffered for my taste,” Kari explained simply. “If I grant you permission to cum, it will be because you actually earned it. All you did here was take the lightest torment that could be inflicted upon your cunt and used it as a stepladder to an orgasm.

My words came out clipped and labored. “But I didn’t orgasm,” I protested lightly.

She shook her head. “But you wanted to.” She put her stylus down and stood up. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re desperate to cum.” She rounded the table and took the toothbrush out of my hand. Then she bent down and picked up my thong. I gave her a pleading look, but she handed me back the panties and the toothbrush.

“We’re about to go out for lunch. Stick that sweet little toothbrush up your cunt and put your panties back on.”

My eyes widened. “But, but …” I stammered.

She grinned and ran her finger along the chain still clamped between my breasts.

“If you’re lucky, I just might not turn it on while we’re eating.”

Then she turned, and left the art room.

And that left me with just one more thing to do.

Don't worry. More cumming!

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