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!

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