Sunday, July 30, 2017

Punishment's Folly - Part Three

(This is Part Three of Punishment's Folly, which means that if you haven't read the other two parts, you might be a little lost. So let me provide a map. Click here to read Part One. Click here to read Part Two.  - Breanne)

I made it to my desk only to see Jose, our day porter, lingering in the atrium outside. He grinned at me, his pert little mustache wiggling, and he lifted both of his hands to his chest, as if he were cupping a set of imaginary tits, and hefted the invisible globes up and down.

I took a deep breath, my nipples throbbing, and I sat down. Inside me, the Rotating Venus Penis was going full blast and the only reason I wasn’t already a Rice Crispy Treat was that I’d already snapped, crackled, and popped just a few minutes earlier. The hell with the arousal Kari had whipped up with her fingers. I was sore, tender, wasted, and somewhat sensitive.

The last little bit was my downfall.

When I was a teenager, I remember burying my face between Kari’s outstretched legs, my tongue dancing across her clitoris, sucking every last little bit of cum juice out of the girl I called both best friend and lover. She was a darling seventeen years old and I was spending the night, her mother totally unaware that it wasn’t boys she had to worry about her daughter inviting over, but the hot and scrumptious, little, red-headed cowgirl from two miles down the road.

Kari had spent the evening tormenting me - rubbing my pussy, licking me herself, tickling me, fisting me, and working me through multiple orgasms, my naked body outstretched on her bed, one foot stuck through a tiny opening in the metal frame of her foot board, my hands tied above my head with a silk robe belt. Eventually it had been too much for her. She’d become too aroused and I’d suddenly found myself in a reversed position, my own mouth tormenting my tormentor. I licked and sucked and felt her shudder above me, trembling with the soft, sapphic violence.

She lasted three minutes.

I remember clinging to her, trying to continue my ministrations, just like she did to me, all the time. Except she fought me, far beyond that of a girl just wanting peace. She went nuts. She pushed me. She hit me. She ended up curled into a ball, hands between her legs, too tender to even function.

Kari is a one orgasm at a time woman. She’ll go a week, sometimes two, without cumming. Me? Hell, give me the occasional bathroom break, some time to sleep, and twenty seconds between cocks and I’m good to go. Except - I still get sore. And sensitive. Just like every other woman. Where I go a little psycho is how I react to it. I’m at the opposite end of the spectrum from Kari, who curls up and turns away. Instead I accept the raw, abrasive sensation. I embrace it. It hurts, just a little. And as long as it is sexualized, that sensitivity feeds my obsession. I become aroused, even more. I want it to hurt. I want it to feel good. I want to cum. I want… I want… I want…

I sat at my desk and suffered mind-numbing torment for forty-seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds. Then I could no longer stand it and my body screamed for release. The RVP spun inside me and shook against my pussy and I grit my teeth, shaking hard, nipples pulsing with pain, as I stumbled down the hall toward Kari’s office. I exploded standing up, fluids splattering my legs as I braced myself against her door, my knuckles jammed between my teeth, like bubble wrap under a toddler’s little shoes.

I sagged as exhaustion overwhelmed me and as the RVP controller slipped from my fingers, Kari caught it in her hand, turning off the vibrations. The four-inch-long probe slowed and stopped and I found myself in her arms, head on her shoulder, trembling violently.

Her voice was soothing. “There, there,” she whispered in my ear. “I know you couldn’t. It was impossible. Especially for a girl like you.”

My voice seemed broken. “I tried,” I whimpered.

She ran her hand over my head and down my back. “Ssshhhh. Yes. I know.” Then she held me, rocking me back and forth until I calmed down. When I finally seemed a bit more stable, she pulled back a bit and gave ma sweet look. “Are you okay now?” She asked seriously.

I nodded.

She smiled. “Then go to the conference room. Take off everything but the clothespins, and lie down on the table.” Her hand slid across my bare side in a delicate caress. “I’m going to go lock the door.”

I swallowed, but nodded. I pulled away from her and went down the hall. In the conference room I pulled off my peasant blouse for the first time that day, tossing it in one of the chairs. Then I slid out of the skirt. I figured Kari meant shoes too, so I slipped out of the high heels as well. Naked, except for the two dangling clothespins wiggling on my nipples, I pushed myself up on the table, laid back, and waited.

Kari came back, arms loaded. Four sets of bondage cuffs were laid on the table next to my bare hip. Then two pieces of rope, each about five feet in length, were dropped across my loins. Kari placed a ruler, a new one, this one long and sporting holes, across my stomach. She picked up the first cuff.

“You know,” she said roughly. “There are times when I wonder if we push you to hard.”

“What?” I replied. “Kari, you know I…”

She reached up, grabbed a clothespin and twisted. My sentence faltered and I let out a little squeal. Kari leaned over and smiled. “This isn’t a conversation. Just listen,” she said softly. I nodded violently and she let the clothespin go.


“What I’m trying to say is that all of us, me, Julie, the other mistresses of the Society, Zack, Nick, Mike the Hardware Guy, Alex, even your fans, have expectations.” She said as she buckled the ankle cuffs around each leg. Her fingers felt light and delicate on my skin.

“We make an effort, go out of our way even, to make sure that everything we ask of you, initially, is just barely too much for you to handle. And then from there, we make it impossible for you to do anything but cope with the suffering.” Her fingers tied one of the pieces of rope to my right ankle cuff and she crossed to the other side of the table. She dipped down, grabbed the hemp line, and then threaded it through my other ankle cuff. I had no choice but to spread my legs to the edges of my makeshift bed, groaning as my thighs rippled. Kari tied it off, leaving my lower half wide open and vulnerable.

“Take today for example. Your task was simple. Endure the RVP on low for a thirty minutes. You’ve done that before. I know you have. So does Julie,” Kari said as she came around to the top end of the table. She took my wrist and began buckling the next cuff on. “So what did we do? We timed it, so that you’d be confronted with the punishment immediately after a week of no orgasms. Your TOTM, as you like to call it,” she said, finishing my right wrist and going to the next. “And worse, Julie tormented you yesterday evening. I heard about it. Again, no orgasms.” She finished with the buckled and began tying on the rope. “So what happened? You come in here so hot and bothered that not even having the RVP on low will keep you from popping. We set you up. Deliberately. Just so we could do the next round.”

“Kari,” I began again. “I don’t mi…”

Her hand lashed out and slapped me. Not across the face, but across the breast. The clothespin hanging on my left nipple was catapulted across the room and I let out a rather shrill squeak.

“Please be quiet,” Kari admonished me. She tossed the rope under the table and crossed back to the first wrist, only to bend down, grab the rope, and pull. My arms went wide, finishing the spread-eagled position Kari intended. My breast and nipple still stung.

Kari tied off the rope beneath me. “The next round of punishment was double though. You had to have the RVP on medium, which I knew you couldn’t handle. Not for an entire hour. Even after just cumming, that much stimulation would just bring you right back to me for another punishment.” She closed her eyes and I watched as she began unzipping her dress. “Do you have any idea what slapping that ruler against your clit did to me?” She asked roughly. I swallowed, not sure if it was a rhetorical question or not. I didn’t want her to slap the other clothespin off.

“I wanted to tear your apart,” she admitted, slipping out of the dress. She was wearing matching bra and panties, all colored a deep, royal blue. Her full breasts looked magnificent and I licked my lips, not sure of what was about to happen.

“I wanted to pleasure you, and hurt you. I wanted to hear you scream in both utter, mindless, orgasm, and in acute pain. I wanted to see looks of anguish on your face, your cute, little feet kicking wildly.” She undid her bra and I felt a rush of hunger - the sexual kind. I really, really, really wanted to bury my face between her breasts.

She pushed down her panties next. She was clean shaven except for a thin, dark line - a landing strip some call it. Her petals were glistening and her clit was visible. Her eyes smoldered with need. “I wanted to do awful things to your clit. I wanted to beat it into paste. I wanted it bruised and swollen and hurting.””

Then Kari climbed up on the table. Her fingers picked up the ruler, the one with holes. Her knees came down on either side of my breasts, her shins pressing against my arms. It didn’t hurt, but wasn’t comfortable. My vision was filled with her sex, wet and dripping. She lowered herself down slowly, carefully and I couldn’t help myself. I stuck my tongue out and lifted my head, desperate to reach her. She bent over, her pussy still above my face, just out of reach.

“Breanne, I want to hurt you,” Kari whispered.

I didn’t care about being quiet. I wanted the taste of her in my mouth. “Then hurt me,” I said.

The ruler with the holes snapped down in what I swear was the hardest stroke I’d received that day. It didn’t sting. It burned. It didn’t warm up, it lit me on fire. It felt like lightning had struck me between the legs, electrifying me. Every muscle went rigid. My back arched. My mouth opened and as I let out a cry of agony, Kari dropped down, mashing her pussy against my face.

It muffled my cry and juices exploded into my mouth. Salty and tangy and sweet and perfect, Kari ground herself into me, one hand supporting her weight, the other whacking at my unprotected sex, the plastic ruler smashing my folds and clit in a flushed mess of pain and pleasure. My hips pumped wildly, but Kari’s aim was true. The sensation of the plastic blistering hot against my clit filled my brain, but it was mixed with other things, things I didn’t comprehend. Why? Why the fuck did it feel good?

I jammed my tongue up in Kari’s pussy, sucking and licking, but with my arms tied, I couldn’t get a good grip on her. I wanted to wrap my arms around her legs and pull her down on me. I wanted to chew my way through her clit. I found it and licked at it hungrily, angrily, desperate and the beating just continued, like a heartbeat, or running over those goddamned “turtle” reflectors in the middle of the road. Fire and ice and salt and my heart pounding in my ears, it all swirled through me and in me and out of me and I screamed, my voice lost in the timeless depths of my mistress’ sex.

And then, then Kari came.

It was a quiet thing. A shudder. No more. I couldn’t even tell except that she tore herself from me, twisting to the side, away from my mouth. I strained to reach her, tongue out, an animal in heat, but she stayed just out of reach, panting. Her pussy was a perfect pink, her clit swollen and extended. I knew she was sensitive. But I didn’t care. I laid my head down as she carefully got down off the table, making sure not to gouge me with her high heels.
I watched as she carefully picked up the RVP, lying on one of the chairs, and she went to my side with it.

“Kari?” I said. “What…”

“Ssshhhhh,” she said softly, pushing the four-inch-long cock into me. I whimpered as she forced me to lift up, strapping the toy on. Then she found the controller and turned it to low.

“Kari,’ I said, panting. “Please…”

She laughed softly. “I know, princess. I know.” She bent down and kissed me on the lips, tasting her own flavor. “I know.” she put a hand on my breast, kneading and caressing me. The buzzing between my legs, the soft churning. Oh my God.

“I’ll be back in a bit. I’m going to get cleaned up,” she said softly. Then she winked. “In the meantime, I have just one command for you to follow,” she said.

My chest was already heaving and my hips rolling. “What?” I whimpered.

Kari straightened up, commanding, regal, powerful, dominant. “Don’t cum. Or it will be ten strokes…”

My mouth went dry and my pussy tightened around the RVP.

“To each tit,” she finished. “See you in a thirty minutes.” She gave me a little wave and walked out of the conference room, leaving me bound naked and alone, the RVP churning and rippling between my legs. I let out a shuddering, trembling sigh.

Torment or punishment? I wasn’t sure any more. Or was it that I didn’t care?

I closed my eyes, struggling against the growing pressure inside me, the unbelievable need, the sweet, pleasure of hedonistic delight. Thirty minutes? Of this?

It may have been punishment. It may have been torment.

But I knew for certain that it was definitely one thing: my folly. 

Breanne Erickson is the author of the BDSM Confessional Erotica series "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut. With over twenty novel-length works, Breanne is best known as the “goddess of dark erotica” a moniker bestowed upon her by Afterdark Online. Her witty repartee, honest narrative, and self-deprecating humor makes each “tale” seem like an entry into her personal diary, the ins and outs of a girl who can’t ever seem to get enough when it comes to sex. A prolific blogger on Michael Alexander’s BDSM Blog, Breanne continues to charm both men and women and serves as the prime example of what a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut can be when she puts her heart and soul into achieving her goals. Breanne's novels are available from, where we hope you will express your appreciation of her writing by buying and reviewing and even spreading the word about this amazing young lady!

Saturday, July 29, 2017

Punishment's Folly - Part Two

(Guess what? This is Part TWO of Punishment's Folly, so if you haven't read Part One, you need to do that first or you might be a bit confused. - Breanne)

I sat at my desk trembling, the RVP twisting and shuddering inside me. The tips of both breasts throbbed, the weight of the shirt pushing on the clothespins sticking straight out from my nipples. My knuckles were white and from the amount of fluid pooling in the seat of my chair, I knew I was dangerously close to cumming. I glanced at the clock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” I whispered to myself.

I had twenty-one minutes to go and there was no way I was going to be able to handle the incessant churning and buzzing of the Rotating Venus Penis. An hour was just too long, even after cumming and getting punished. The twenty swats I’d received from Kari had sensitized me as well, leaving me even more open to the non-stop stimulation of the sex toy and to be honest, I was shocked I’d managed to get through thirty-nine minutes of it.

I felt my heart skip a beat as the realization hit me. Perhaps if I’d made it to forty-five minutes, with just fifteen left to go, I’d have struggled through. But twenty plus? Not a chance in hell. It wasn’t even worth trying for, and my willpower broke, shattering like a glass window struck with a baseball. I leaned over, gasping, not even bothering to check if anyone was out in the lobby, watching with glee as the girl’s whose tits were barely covered let her blouse drop forward, exposing two, exquisite, dangling boobs, both clamped with wooden clothespins. I let out a sharp whine as the weight of the cotton no longer pushed down on my nipples.

And the pressure burst.

As far as orgasms go, the second one of the morning was pretty damn impressive. The puddle between my legs became a pool, my thighs were streaked with cum all the way to my knees, I felt weak, and limp, and amazing, and my clitoris was quite sensitive; tender and raw. I sat there, dripping, letting the sweet euphoria of my fix align my psyche into something resembling normal. I sighed in happiness, endorphins flooding my brain. The shot of adrenaline faded, leaving me feeling languorous and relaxed. I settled back in my chair with a smile on my face, even able to ignore the throbbing ache of my breasts, both of which were still caught in the grip of the wooden pegs. At least for a moment. The peasant blouse settled down over the clothespins and I grimaced, the pain eating through the last little bits of my sexual nirvana.


No one was in the atrium, so I slowly stood up. As I thought, I’d made another mess of my chair, soaking almost the entire leather seat. The back of my skirt was sopping wet and I groaned as some of the cum I’d left there dripped onto the floor. I pulled a hand towel out of one of the desk drawers and tried to wipe it all up.

“Breanne,” called Kari from her office. “I heard your orgasm. Do you need additional strokes for not coming back here quick enough?”

“I’m cleaning up!” I said loudly. I snatched the RVP controller of the desk and took it with me, waddling on my stripper shoes, feeling my thighs slide back and forth. It was a disconcerting sensation. Wet and slippery. I looked into Kari’s office.

“I exploded,” I said simply. She looked up, a knowing look on her face.

“I’m aware of it. You were quite vocal.”

I blushed crimson.

“You are aware that since this was attempt number two for you, we’re doubling the strokes to your pussy. You’ll receive twenty as Master William dictated for failing your punishment.”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. “It doesn’t make any sense. My punishment was to endure the vibrator and try not to cum. And now that I have cum, I have to get punished for failing the punishment?”

Kari laughed. “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who agreed to it. Now go to the conference room, remove your skirt and the RVP, and have a seat in one of the chairs. Legs over the armrests as usual please.”

I gave her a curt nod, then moved my cute, little ass.

In the conference room it was child’s play. I turned off the churning, buzzing sex toy still buried in my slit and I put it on the table. I moved fast, not wanting to risk extra swats. I tossed my skirt to the side, sat down, and had my legs draped open and outward, my stripper heels bobbing in the air to either side of the chair before Kari waltzed in.

She had a different ruler.

The one she’d selected was twelve inches long, but it was extra wide, a full four inches in width, leaving a much wider paddling surface. It was one of the ones I’d considered and then decided not to risk. I bit my lip as she came into the room, hooked a foot around one of the other chairs, and sat down right in front of me, the end of the ruler just an inch or two from my exposed, still rosy, already spanked once, pussy.

My clit was swollen, though whether from the beating I’d received an hour before, or from the non-stop stimulation I’d just endured for forty some minutes, I wasn’t sure. The folds of my sex seemed just as pink, if not more so, and I could see a few questionable lines carved in a darker shade of crimson that could have only have come from the edge of the narrower ruler.

And I was about to get more.

Kari gave me a warm smile. She brought up her other hand and to my surprise, she was holding a vibrator. It was six inches long, straight except for the curved tip and she twisted the base. It rumbled to life.

“What’s that for?” I asked suspiciously.

Kari tilted her head to the side slightly. “Think of it as a timer.” Then, without another word, she slid it straight into my sex and pushed it deep.

If you are male, I apologize. Not because I think of you as a testosterone laden, ambulatory cock always looking for the next fuck, (which you are, thank goodness) but because there is no way for you to possibly understand what it is like to be filled the way a woman does. And no - anal sex is nothing like it. Trust me. I know. So even if you’re a guy with a penchant for having things stuck up your ass, the feeling is entirely different. You will never know it. Never understand it. I am a woman. There is a cavity within me, literally designed to be filled, and for it to be pleasurable when it is filled correctly. Furthermore, that cavity is warm, wet, and to some extent tight. It is designed to stimulate the male sexual organ, resulting in the squirting of sperm-laden cum as a procreative method.

In other words, my pussy is not a vice. Or a clamp. Tightening down around any cock-like objects does not keep them inside me. If I want to keep a cock buried in my pussy, I literally have to wrap my legs around him, locking my heels together in the small of his back, and hold him there.

So what I want you men to take from this little tangent of explanation, is that there is absolutely no way, short of trying to hold still and not tense my muscles in any way, to keep a wet, slick, vibrating, six inch rod, buried in my pussy. Especially when there is a crazy, demented, sexual sadist smacking your clit with fast, hard blows.

I made it through five before my pussy squeezed the rod tight in reaction to the stinging heat applied to my clit and the vibrator shot out like a bullet, only to land in Kari’s waiting hand. She grabbed it, ignoring the goo covering the full length, and shoved it right back into my grasping slit, leaving me to bleat the mix of arousal and pain she was inflicting upon me. My eyes widened at the sudden, but perfect penetration, only to have it ruined by Kari slapping my pubis with the wide ruler once more. This time she only managed to finish three strokes, before the vibrator shot out of me. My feet kicked as my hips rolled madly and I gripped the chair with a claw like grip.

“Every time you push the vibrator out, I’m adding three extra strokes to your total,” Kari informed me.

“What?” I gasped, eyes wide in alarm, only to groan as she jammed the thick vibrator back into me.

The ruler struck fast and hard, slapping my clitoris, mashing it, flattening it. A burning sting seemed to expand outward from my groin and I just barely managed to keep from squeezing my pussy again, instead thrusting upward and trying to open up even more. It was an obscenely lewd thing to do, but it added two more strokes to Kari’s tempo, giving me a full six. I was mewling as the heat between my legs became almost intolerable and the vibrator shot out of me once more, a third time.

Kari, still perfect, caught it, pressed the tip to my broiling clitoris, and rubbed the wet, tapered tip back and forth. It both hurt and felt good and I made a shrill, yipping sort of noise as the clothespins on my tits danced and dipped and wiggled in response to my shudders. I brought my hands up, cupping my breasts, fingers holding the clothespins, but not still. I was wiggling them, my brain no longer functioning properly.

The vibrator went back in. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. I grit my teeth, unable to hold back, my pussy convulsing in spasms around the toy. Kari pushed it back in. The ruler snapped and snapped and my back arched in a mixture of agony and ecstasy. I was on the cusp of cumming again, every nerve between my pussy and my brain afire. My toes curled, one shoe having fallen free. Kari, with one hand holding the vibrator in, slapped the ruler down hard and I grit my teeth, straining, eyes closed, a shrill cry between my lips. Then she let go. The vibrator shot out of my agitated cunt, shot across the two seats, and then fell to the floor.

But I didn’t really see this, or know it. All I knew was the fiery agony of the wide ruler slapping my pussy. Kari, her other hand no free, pushed her arm up against my right leg, while her elbow jammed into the other side. I had nowhere to go as she beat my pussy, delivering the last of a full thirty-five strokes to my abused cunt.

And she didn’t stop there. Two more strokes fell, the last one on my knuckles as my hands shot down between my legs, covering my sore, sensitive, gushing, burning slit.

“Oww!” I screeched. “Please! Kari! Stop!”

She pulled back. Her eyes were a bit wild, her hair slightly out of place, her face a mask of need. She was panting, almost as hard as I was and tossed the ruler down, scooted the chair back, grabbed the vibrator, (which was still buzzing by the way) and held it up just an inch from my pussy.

“Move your hands,” she demanded.

I whimpered, but spread my fingers. “Please,” I whispered. “Not my clit.”

She nodded and the vibrator slid back into my well, deep. She began pumping it. A riot of sensation swirled from my groin and it hurt and felt good and burned and calmed me. My hips thrust back against her push and a minute later I was almost there again, ready to cum.

And Kari pulled the vibrator out and shut it off.

“Oh my god!” I whined. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Kari gave me a dark look and I could tell that I wasn’t the only one on the edge. She was aroused. I could see it in her eye. Kari wanted to cum, and for the woman before me, that rarely happened. She was too sensitive. But evidently hurting me, using me, tormenting, had brought her to the edge. Our eyes met, a smoldering look and I licked my lips.

“I’ll put it back in,” she offered. “But I’ll beat your clit with ruler for every second it’s buried inside you.”

I gulped. I looked at her burning eyes. “Do you need me?” I asked, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

She took a deep breath. “Yes. But you aren’t done. Are you? You still haven’t managed to accomplish Master William’s punishment task.”

I shook my head. She stood up and smoothed down her dress. Her hands were wet from my goo. They left streaks she didn’t even seem to mind.

“Put the RVP back in. Full power this time. You will suffer a full hour and a half,” she said. “If you fail, it will be forty strokes.”

I shifted in the chair, my legs still wide open, my dripping cunt a red flower, bursting with moisture. My thighs were pink and I pulled up the peasant blouse, showing off the clothespins.

“Why bother?” I asked with sullen heat. “I’m just going to cum again,” I muttered darkly. “An hour and a half with the RVP on full power? That’s insane.”

In seconds she’d crossed the space and put her hand between my still open legs. Fingers dug up hard up into my sweet gash. I gasped, straining, aching thighs as she curled her hand against my groin.

“You are a nympho humiliation pain slut, and if one of your masters has told you that you will suffer sexual stimulation for him and not cum, then by God you will do just that. And if you don’t want me to double the number of strokes again, over what Master William ordered, then you will get up off your cute, little ass and stuff your stupid little cunt with the RVP, turn it to full power, and get out to that desk and at least try not to cum.”

She gave my pussy a hard squeeze and let go. Then she stormed out of the conference room and I heard the sink in the kitchenette running.

I sat there for a moment, aching, dripping, wondering if she meant it. Slowly I brought my legs down off the chair armrests. I found my platform stripper shoes and slipped them on. I adjusted my skirt, and then my top, the cotton resting lightly on the clothespins, just barely exposing the nipples and all of the lower half of each breast. Finally, I picked up the RVP. I closed my eyes and pushed the four-inch-long phallic probe into my pussy. Oh God it hurt. My pussy ached horribly and my clit was so sensitive that the very idea of the RVP buzzing against it hurt. I looped the straps around my waist. I smoothed down my skirt and grabbed the little bluetooth remote.

I stopped at Kari’s office door. She was working.

“Why?” I asked. “Why torment me like this? I’m hurting everywhere. And I need to cum. Why make me go through it all again? Why punish me?”

Kari looked up. “What’s the difference between punishment and torment?” She asked softly.

My scowl was probably answer enough. “At this rate, there isn’t one,” I replied, my voice frosty.

Kari stood up. She walked over to me and gently pulled the RVP controller out of my hand. Then she cupped my face.

“Breanne, you’re exactly right,” she whispered. And with that she pushed the RVP controls to maximum. Inside me the cock spun and churned, frothing my pussy into creamy, sweet bliss. Against my clit, the buzzing sweet and cold oscillations burned. My swollen, beaten petals,  mashed and bruised, fluttered somewhere between agony and ecstasy.

“For you, it’s all the same. Now go. Suffer. And then, please, please, please cum for me. Even though it will earn you another punishment.”

And suddenly, through the pleasure, the need, the wanton, I laughed. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “No. A torment,” I said softly. I smiled at her and then let her go, turning down the hall. The RVP spun inside me, whipping me into a frenzy. Kari watched me go.

Stay tuned for Part 3!

Breanne Erickson is the author of the BDSM Confessional Erotica series "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut. With over twenty novel-length works, Breanne is best known as the “goddess of dark erotica” a moniker bestowed upon her by Afterdark Online. Her witty repartee, honest narrative, and self-deprecating humor makes each “tale” seem like an entry into her personal diary, the ins and outs of a girl who can’t ever seem to get enough when it comes to sex. A prolific blogger on Michael Alexander’s BDSM Blog, Breanne continues to charm both men and women and serves as the prime example of what a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut can be when she puts her heart and soul into achieving her goals. Breanne's novels are available from, where we hope you will express your appreciation of her writing by buying and reviewing and even spreading the word about this amazing young lady!

Punishment's Folly - Part One

“Well,” said Kari, stepping into the office. “That’s a look I can appreciate.” Her eyes focused on the peasant blouse, or possibly the two wooden clothespins that hung from my barely concealed nipples, the ends peeking out from under the mostly transparent material. The blouse, a pleated monstrosity with a single strand of elastic holding it in place above my breasts, didn’t do much more than keep my bosom from being immediately bare and the slightest gust of wind had a tendency to flip the whole thing up, forcing me to involuntarily flash my breasts to the whole freaking world.

I gave Kari a sour look. I wasn’t happy about the outfit, which was purely Julie’s fault. She’d texted me that morning, directing me to wear it. I’d have gone for something more conservative, despite the assigned punishment I was to endure that morning, but still. The peasant blouse? Why not just strip me naked?

“Are you ready?” Inquired Kari sweetly, coming around to check out my skirt. I’d worn the pleated blue one, the one that was too short to actually cover my ass, and I nodded.

“Yes, Kari. I’m ready,” I assured her. “The RVP is in, with fresh batteries, and as you can see,” I said, gesturing at my breasts. “I already have the clothespins on.”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed. “Yes. I like it when you’re proactive like this. Has it been hard, sitting here with your tender, little nipples crushed like that for so long?”

I swallowed and nodded, not wanting to admit that I’d put them on just a few minutes ago. I’m sexually crazy.

Not stupid.

“Turn on the RVP then,” she told me. “Both functions on low please. Thirty minutes. No cumming.”

I nodded. The remote was already out on my desk and I quickly activated it. Kari stayed to watch the immediate response and it certainly wasn’t disappointing. Inside me the four-inch-long synthetic cock spun up, wriggling around inside my desperate pussy like a chef’s spoon in a small pot. I gasped, eyes widening as the sensation incited a riot of pleasure. Then, just as quickly, the other motor in the Rotating Venus Penis started up, shaking lightly. The base of the RVP was pressed against my petals, and worse - my clitoris.

I’m a girl who is accustomed to sexual stimulation, but I admit that the one toy I consistently have trouble handling is the Rotating Venus Penis. I’ve had four of them, which shouldn’t be a referendum on their durability. I have a tendency to fuck to destruction. The latest incarnation was more solid, and had no wires. I liked that because it left out one additional way for Kari and Julie to humiliate the fuck out of me. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have someone look at you when you’ve got a bright pink or purple colored wire going up under your skirt, with a battery pack and control sticking into your waistband?

But as the RVP churned up to it’s lowest settings, my pussy tightened and I found myself gripping the desk, my entire body keyed to react. Thirty minutes is a long time and I realized that under the circumstances, I’d be lucky to last five. I glanced up at Kari, the panic on my face apparent, and she laughed.

“Too much, too soon?” She asked. “That’s what you get for being a naughty little slut,” she said snidely. “Out of curiosity, what did you do to deserve this particular punishment?”

I swallowed, my entire body shifting as the RVP did it’s magic dance between my legs. “You know that Wizard of Oz porn parody I’m writing?” I asked her. She nodded.

“I know of it. I haven’t read any,” she replied.

“Well, no one has,” I said roughly. “I mean had. Master William inquired about it and I’d sort of put it on a back burner. So I sent him the first part.” A surge of sexual energy shot through me and I let out a whimper. Control. It’s all about control. I looked back up at Kari. “He was disappointed that I only sent him part one.”

Kari crossed her arms over her chest. “Why?”

Another wave of absolute sexual lust rushed through me. And with all due respect, I should be forgiven for the lack of control. I hadn’t cum in six days for goodness’ sake!

“Why what?” I stammered.

Kari snapped her finger in front of my face. “Bre, concentrate. Why didn’t you send him the whole thing?”

I closed my eyes, swaying dangerously in my seat. “I… I… .it wasn’t finished,” I blurted out. Then I moaned. “It was a rough… rough… oh my God.” I realized I was panting. “Draft!”

Kari smiled. “Well then, don’t let me stop you. Get to work. Edit the first part and make sure everyone gets it. Start typing,” she ordered.

I blinked. “I… how can I write like this?” I gasped, my legs starting to tremble.

Kari shrugged. “It’s your normal state isn’t it?” She reached down, slid her right hand under the peasant blouse, and squeezed my breast, shaking the clothespin. That did not help.

“Come see when you cum. Now, write.” She let go of my boob and turned and walked away. Shaking, panting, aching, needing, I grabbed hold of the mouse and opened my documents file. Tons of half-finished assignment write-ups filled the screen, files and files of them. I opened my “fiction folder.” Only five items in there, none of them done, and I started to open “Bondage in Oz”.

The red-haired girl lay on the bed, eyes half closed as her fingers moved in lazy circles. A low moan came from parted lips and her back arched, the pale, white curves of her body writhing in self created ecstasy. Sunlight and a light breeze came in through the open window, pushing on the curtains that weren’t quite closed. She seemed lost in her own little world, legs parted with her toes just barely grazing the corners of the footboard, while her fingers moved from the swollen nub of sweet flesh at the cleft of her slit to the thick, black, cucumber sized phallus that waited patiently for another chance to feel her warm, sweet depths...

And then I exploded.  Three minutes. Well done, Bre.

Leaving the RVP on, I climbed out of my chair, wobbled slightly on the stripper shoes I was wearing and headed back down the hall. I walked into Kari’s office and the golden haired goddess I routinely worship glanced up at me. She didn’t seem surprised.

“That took longer than I expected,” she said with a grin. “Go to my art room and get one of the plastic rulers. Then go to the conference room and remove your RVP. You know how I want you,” she said with a smirk.

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Kari” I replied obediently. I turned tail and moved down the hall to her art room. It was cluttered, or at least appeared to be, but I knew that everything had a place. On the second shelf, in the back corner, was a jar full of rulers. There were wooden ones, plastic ones, short ones, foot and a half long ones, ones with holes, ones with slides, and even wide ones. I spent a moment trying to figure out which would be the least painful. I skipped the one with holes, and the wide one, and the long one, and instead selected a simple, smooth, straight, orange, plastic ruler.

It would do.

I turned tail. I wanted the RVP off because it was already churning me into another state. I wasn’t quite ready to pop, but if I didn’t get it turned off, I was certainly going to. That’s one of the problems to being multi-orgasmic. I’m the sort of girl that can just lurch from one orgasm to the next if left to my own devices, or left to the devices still on. The last thing I needed was to get myself all hot and bothered so that after the punishment I’d be in the same state I started.

I turned left in the hall, then took another right past the kitchen. That put me in the conference room, the largest space in the suite, dominated by a large, mahogany conference table and six, expensive, leather chairs.

The leather is treated frequently. Trust me.

I pushed one of the chairs at the end of the table out of the way and dumped the ruler on the surface. I went to remove the RVP, but realized that I’d left the damn control box at my desk. With a sigh of exasperation, I headed back down the hall, only to bump into Kari.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked me in surprise.

I blushed crimson. “I uh… I left the RVP controller on my desk.”

Her eyebrow went up. “I see. That’s earned you another five strokes.”

My eyes widened and she pushed me back down toward the conference room. “Go. Remove your RVP. I’ll fetch the controller and turn it off.”

She whirled and marched away and I took a deep breath. Alright. Back to the conference room. Extra strokes. Yay.

The RVP went quiet just as I walked back into the conference room and I quickly released the straps holding it to my slit. I pulled it out with a groan, the four-inch-long cock glistening with my cum. I set it aside. Kari came in a moment later.

“I thought you were supposed to be laying on the table, legs spread?” She asked, giving me a dark look.

My eyebrow went up. “Well, I was taking off the RVP,” I said as an excuse, gesturing at the toy now sitting in one of the extra chairs. “I was just about to climb up.”

Kari’s mouth twitched. “Unacceptable. That will earn you another five strokes.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “But you already are giving me an extra five strokes!”

She nodded, her mouth curling up into a wicked smile. “Yes, for being foolish enough to leave the RVP controls on your desk. This extra punishment is for not being on the table.”

For a moment our eyes met. Anger flooded through me, but only for a second. I looked away from the concentrated will and dominance in Kari’s eyes. I bowed my head with a muttered “yes, mistress.” Then I pressed my skirt clad bottom against the table and hopped up.

I slid across the highly oiled tabletop backward, until my calves bumped the edge. I knew it was highly oiled because Kari had removed my piercings the previous Wednesday, along with the padlock on my right nipple, and made me oil the entire table with just my breasts. Then she’d come in to supervise with the flogger. Bent over, rubbing my chest across the smooth surface, while she’d given my pantyclad ass a series of sharp smacks, had been highly stressful. The bondage cuffs on my wrists hadn’t come off until I was done, either.

But not today. Today I was still fully dressed. Well, sort of. As I slid up the table my skirt did some interesting things. Granted, it covered my ass better, but it also pulled the front upward, exposing my very pink, very wet, very wanton, little slit. The other issue was that I was now mostly horizontal. The peasant blouse was designed with gravity in mind, and now that I was flat on my back, or at least propped up on my elbows, the blouse fell upward, exposing the pink, clothespin-clad tips of each breast.

Kari picked up the ruler and moved down to the end of the table, between my feet, like a perverted obstetrician, her eyes glued to my gash.

“Spread your legs my dear. You’re getting ten for your punishment from Master William and ten from me.”

I drew my feet up and as I did, Kari pulled the stripper shoes off. That didn’t worry me too much. She was probably more concerned about marring her table than whacking the soles of my feet. She then pushed, bending my knees and setting my feet wide apart. She tapped my inner thigh, right above my pussy, with the ruler, leaving a light, but noticeable sting.

“Open up,” Kari demanded. “Further. Almost a Butterfly.”

I let my knees move outward. The butterfly position has the actor laying on her back, legs spread wide, except bent at the knees so that the soles of each foot are touching the other. What Kari wanted was sort of similar, except with my knees bent, legs spread wide. It doesn’t have a name, but if I were polled, I’d call it “Ouch” because the moment I adopted the position Kari requested, she raised the ruler and brought it straight down on my clit with a sharp crack of sound.

Then I said, “Ouch!”

Of course it came out more as a squeal and my bottom lifted up off the table and when my ass came back down my skirt was now a rumpled ring around my waist. My knees waved in the air as Kari looked down, and with both hands, snapped the plastic paddle against my pussy again.

“Owww!” I yelped, once more pushing my hips upward, lifting my ass off the table. I hissed as the sting began to morph into heat and Kari poked at my clitoris with the edge of the ruler.

“I have to ask,” Kari said. “If you truly understand the difference between punishment and torment.” The edge of the ruler moved back and forth, rubbing my clitoris. That didn’t hurt. Not one bit. In fact …

“That’s torment,” I gasped.

Kari hummed and the ruler changed orientation. Now she began tapping my clit. I clenched my pussy. She wasn’t technically hitting me. It didn’t even sting. But my God I sure as hell felt it.

“That’s torment too!” I whimpered.

“Very good,” Kari replied. Then she lifted the ruler about ten inches away from my pussy and brought it down hard and fast.

I let out a harsh cry and jerked half upright as the burning sting cause my knees to buckle and close. I twisted away, jamming a hand down between my legs, covering my pussy as the tears came to my eyes.

“And that?” She asked sharply. I clenched my eyes shut.

“Punishment!” I whimpered.

“That’s correct. “Now open up again.”

Slowly, over the next thirty seconds, I managed to regain my position. Kari stood above me, the villainous schoolteacher, intent on inflicting some serious discipline on her wayward, naughty student. I trembled like a leaf in a storm, but managed to get my legs open again. But I was crying.

I expected another blow, but instead she slipped two fingers into my pussy and began thrusting. I don’t think I need to explain how that felt. But just as I tightened around her digits, squeezing in response, she yanked her hand away and slapped the ruler down for the third blow, straight to my clit. It stung, but not as badly. I gasped, thrusting upward, the sting biting for two or three seconds before just becoming hot.

“Oh my God,” I whimpered.

Kari answered that little prayer by smacking my clit again.

And then again.

And once more.

I broke. My knees came together, I let out a choked sob and Kari waited patiently for me to recover. My pussy burned like hell and my clit felt swollen and raw. A minute passed, then another, and Kari became impatient.

“Open back up, Breanne.” She smacked the ruler against my leg, right where it meets the lower buttock.


The ruler flicked again, this time stinging. She was spanking my ass. I rolled so that my bottom wasn’t quite as exposed, but this did exactly what she wanted. My legs opened up and before I could bring my knees together, she pushed two fingers deep and hard into my slit.

You know what? I have no fucking idea about definitions when it comes to torment and punishment, because her fingers curled and swirled inside me just as insidiously as the RVP had done. Her palm pressed against my clit and in seconds the pain of the swats was lost in a wave of pleasure so acute that I practically swooned. I gasped, moaned, whimpered, and thrust my hips up into her. I spread my legs again, offering myself up to her. I could feel another orgasm begin to blossom in the heat and movement, the thrust and pull, the fingers of my sweet well.

And then Kari’s hand stopped moving. She held her fingers still inside me and I squirmed.

“Please! Kari! Please! I’m so close!” I puffed.

“Punishment,” she said sweetly, yanked her hand out of me, and with the other, brought the fucking ruler down hard. Even before I could react to the scorching heat, I heard the crack of flat plastic striking wet flesh, mashing my folds down and biting into my clitoris. I threw my head back, cried out, and once more my knees slammed together.

I rolled onto my side, groaning in agony. It was so cruel!

Kari sat down in the leather chair and licked at her fingers while I lay there trembling.

“Do you know why I’ve been pleasuring you?” She asked me idly.

I sniffed. “So you can hurt me more?” I managed to reply

“Exactly. Hurt you more. Do you even understand what that means? I am literally using your own libido against you. If you weren’t constantly aroused, always wet, always wanting, I wouldn’t be able to do this to you.”  She paused. “Well, not as much. If I didn’t care how bady it hurt, I suppose I could still do this to you. But we’d need a gag.”

I felt her lean forward and the edge of the ruler touched my foot. The sole. Right in the middle. I twitched and pulled my foot away, but Kari grabbed my right ankle, holding it. The ruler came back, like a cutting edge. It tickled, almost. Maybe. Just barely. She dragged the corner along my sole. I couldn’t tell if it hurt, tickled, or felt good. I lay there, twitching.

“I hope you realize the gift you are. I certainly do,” Kari said, still driving me crazy with the edge of the ruler. “You are like the Ferrari of sex sluts.”

She slapped the ruler against my foot. “Now open back up. You’ve got like fifteen more swats to take.

And me, the stupid, nympho humiliation pain slut, did exactly as she asked.

Stay tuned for Part 2!

Breanne Erickson is the author of the BDSM Confessional Erotica series "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut. With over twenty novel-length works, Breanne is best known as the “goddess of dark erotica” a moniker bestowed upon her by Afterdark Online. Her witty repartee, honest narrative, and self-deprecating humor makes each “tale” seem like an entry into her personal diary, the ins and outs of a girl who can’t ever seem to get enough when it comes to sex. A prolific blogger on Michael Alexander’s BDSM Blog, Breanne continues to charm both men and women and serves as the prime example of what a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut can be when she puts her heart and soul into achieving her goals. Breanne's novels are available from, where we hope you will express your appreciation of her writing by buying and reviewing and even spreading the word about this amazing young lady!