Tuesday, August 1, 2017

A Quick Punishment

“Alright, Bre. Head down to the punishment closet and strip,” Kari said as she opened the door to the office and let me in. We’d spent the morning working. Or more accurately, I’d spent the morning writing, while Kari had done her thing back in her art room. Except, I knew what was coming the moment we got back.

I gave her a hesitant look, but bit my lip, not to mention the retort. Kari hadn’t mandated the punishment after all, and it had been my own stupid fault for messing up Julie’s email. One stupid little dot. I took a deep breath and nodded. There wasn’t much to say. When your mistress says “go to the punishment closet and strip,” you head to the punishment closet and strip. Except, maybe not quite in that order.

It was a long walk, especially for a girl wearing six inch heels, but I plodded along. All during lunch I’d been dreading the return and now it was time. My fingers plucked at the bottom of my blouse, a white, mostly see through thing that left most of the lacey details of my bra quite visible despite being beneath the material. I unbuttoned the shirt, shrugging it off and letting it fall in the hall. That might have been a bit naughty, what with Kari’s OCD, knowing she was going to clean it up and that I’d eventually find my entire outfit, folded neatly, waiting for me on the conference room table. Still, it felt right and I let my skirt drop next, stepping out of it with unusual grace.

That left me treading down the hall in lingerie and my fingers swept backward, finding the small clasp and undoing it, freeing both breasts from the crimson bondage of the bra. It dropped, a trickle of ruby on the beige floor. I made it to the last door on the hall. Originally a barely used supply closet, on my first day, Kari had made me empty it. All to make room for the installation of something I considered an atrocity:

The punishment frame.

It had been designed and built by Mike the Hardware Guy and utilized two hydraulic foot pumps, cannibalized from a pair of old salon chairs and plenty of metal. Black painted steel, chains, leather, and bondage cuffs made for an intriguing piece of art, but as the one and only person to have ever been secured to “the punishment frame,” I could argue a slightly different perspective. It wasn’t a punishment frame at all. It was just a convenient place to hang me while other things, including people, punished me.

I pushed my panties down and caught the massive, twelve inch long “Core Driller” dildo. I’d had it in all day and the crotch of my underwear was stretched from having to bear the brunt of my convulsing pussy trying to incessantly push the dildo out. I set the Core Driller aside on one of the little shelves inside the punishment closet and without further ado, began buckling on the pair of wrist cuffs Kari kept there.

It wasn’t hard. Neither was turning my back to the post and hooking the simple steel loops to the hooks. Now I had no recourse. The only way I was getting off the punishment frame was if Kari came in and freed the snaps. I was hanging from my wrists, toes just barely touching the floor, metal touching the backs of each thigh. I felt the two, padded, posts that stuck out at an angle and I spread my legs so that the double barreled cock-like protrusion thrust out from between my thighs. That gave me a better stance, since I could now put my feet straight down, but it looked obscene.

Kari appeared in the doorway.

“Ah, all trussed up I see!” She said brightly. She stepped into the closet and thrust a foot toward the base of the punishment frame. The metal bar she touched creaked and I heard the hiss. The overhead crossbar holding my wrists went up and a moment later I wasn’t touching the ground anymore. Then she switched to the second pedal and began pumping that one too. The two poles sticking out from between my thighs began moving, outward as the case may be, forcing my legs open. With every pump of her foot, I was widened and at one point I slipped, the poles going into the crease behind each knee. Now with my pussy on full display, totally vulnerable and exposed, Kari stepped back and got to work.

“So how did Julie know that I’d be willing to do this to you?” Kari asked, picking up the first of the TENS Unit clamps and holding it up to my left nipple.

I snorted, at least until the clamp closed tightly, sending a shock of discomfort through my breast. “It’s you,” I hissed, wincing at the pain. It was a smartass answer, and Kari hummed a little, picking up the next clamp and she held it up, right over my right nipple.

“What if I’d been busy?” She asked, closing the clamp. Matching pain shot up through my right breast now and I groaned, trembling as she feathered the wires, running them down to the small device sitting on the nearby shelf. She plugged in a third clamp.

“She had an alternative punishment,” I gasped as Kari’s fingers found my clit. She pinched it, then set the clamp in place. I let out a tiny cry as she let go and I trembled, my body stretched open, toes pointing through my black stilettoes, pussy red, dripping, and clamped. Red and black wires ran everywhere and Kari stepped back to appreciate the view.

I hung there, panting.

“Oh yes! The vibrating egg,” she said. “It’s in my office. Be back in a moment.” She turned and left, but then hesitated. Her hand shot out to the TENS Unit, which, if you are unfamiliar with the device, stands for Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulator, or as I like to think of it - the FBNC Machine. Which stands for “fry Breanne’s nipples and clit.” Kari’s deft fingers twisted the first knob, moving it around in a clockwise circle. I watched with increasing panic as she moved it past one, then past two, and left it on level three.

My right nipple suddenly felt like Kari had pinched it, hard, followed by a cruel twist to the right. Then the sensation stopped. I sucked in a breath as Kari’s hand moved to the second dial, twisting it much like the first, but even as my left breast started to feel similar stimulation, my right nipple convulsed again, once more enduring the harsh pinch of non-existent fingers. Great. She’d set the FBNC Machine to “pulse.”

Kari’s hand moved to the third dial and that’s when things got tough. The third clamp went to my clitoris and I whimpered, straining against both the wrist bonds and the poles holding my legs spread. Kari spun the dial to the number four and once more, a sensation of crushing pressure seemed to catch hold of that most sensitive spot, leaving me breathless.

“If you’ll just hang here, I’ll be right back,” Kari assured me.

“Ah!” I gasped, “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” I blowed, wheezing as the electrical current did a nice job of simulating what it would feel like to have my clit caught between someone’s questing fingers, twisting and pulling hard.

Kari waved, a teasing smile on her face, and disappeared, leaving me to whimper, shudder, and suffer, still hanging naked in the punishment closet. She came back just a minute later, a egg-shaped and sized object in her hand.

“Are you wet enough?” She asked me, pressing the narrower, tapered end of the toy against my folds.

I almost laughed, except I was wincing. “That’s a funny question,” I gasped through clenched teeth. The pulses of electricity were not easy to deal with and they hurt. But then Kari pushed and the sensation of being opened, of having my pussy filled, was beyond perfect. I shuddered as the egg slipped in fully, wetly, and with disturbing ease. It was like I was meant to be stuffed. Kari licked her thumb clean of my juices.

“There now,” she said, pulling out a small, wireless controller. “And…”

The toy inside me began to vibrate and it sure as hell wasn’t set to low. Medium, probably. But the moment those oscillations took hold, the pain at the tips of my breasts seemed cut in half. And the pressure on my clitoris? A mild sucking sensation. I bucked, rolling my hips, unable to close my legs, or pull myself off.

Kari’s fingers caressed my petals, smoothing my own wetness down to my perineum and even, to my increasing delight, my bottom.

“So, here we are, and you aren’t even allowed to cum,” she observed. “What was the time limit? Thirty minutes? Yes?”

I nodded frantically. Oh my God did the vibrating egg feel good! Of course, Kari had made a mistake, but I wasn’t going to say anything.

“And if I recall, Julie wanted you on level four, right?” She said, twisting the knobs.

Inwardly I winced, at least for a moment before outwardly I winced. So much for mistakes. She’d remembered. The pain at the tips of each breast went from a hard pinch to something more penetrative - like a steel needle going through my flesh. I grimaced and cried out, jerking a bit as my clit joined the party. A series of spasms racked my body and I felt my pussy tighten around the vibrating egg.

“Out of curiosity, what was the alternative punishment?” Kari asked, cupping my sex, her fingers swirling through my petals, tormenting me.

“I...I… I was supposed to get spanked!” I whimpered, my hips thrusting forward and back as she played with me. “Twenty strokes! Spanks!”

Kari considered that. “Hmmm. Is that all?” She inquired, her fingertips still fluttering. I could feel the pressure rising, the need to cum wrapping itself around me like a blanket. “Nothing else?”

“If… if… oh God! Please stop, Kari! You know I’m not supposed to explode!” I begged her.

“Finish telling me and maybe I will,” she said sweetly, rubbing beneath my throbbing, electrified clit. Pain and pleasure warped and consumed me.

“If he asked!” I moaned loudly. “If he asked! About the Core Driller! I was supposed to fuck him!”

“Who is ‘him’?” She asked, her fingers dancing between my legs, arousing me even more. I couldn’t hold still, my mind losing it to the sensations. Agony and ecstasy. I needed to cum! Oh God I needed to cum!

“Anyone! It didn’t matter! Please! Please Oh My God! Can I cum? Please?

Kari pulled her hand away from my pussy, her fingers dripping. She wiped them on my outstretched thigh. “No,” she said simply. “Suffer. This is supposed to be punishment.” She leaned forward as I let out a choked sigh. “And remember, don’t cum. You’ve got about twenty-five more minutes to hang here. And if you do cum, I’ll know. And then you get to hang here another thirty minutes, with both the vibrating egg and the TENS Unit up a level. Imagine that.”

I didn’t need to imagine that. I could handle level 4. Hell, I was handling it right then. Needles, repeatedly being shoved through each nipple, through my clit. But level five? Criminy. It would be worse. So much worse. Like red hot needles being shoved through my nipples, And twisted. With pliers. And I wouldn’t be able to handle the vibrating egg. Not at all. Especially not for another thirty minutes.

“Wh… what happens if I can’t hold off?” I stammered, suffering, so close to cumming that I could taste it.

Kari shrugged. “Then you’ll have earned another punishment,” she said blithely. “I’m sure Mr. Smith upstairs would be delighted to spank your cute, little ass.” She leaned forward and once more put her hand on my dripping snatch. “He might even notice that massive dildo of yours.” She gave me a warm and piercing smile. “And don’t think that cumming five minutes in will spare you. You’ll still suffer for a full hour. I’ll just up the TENS unit for every additional orgasm you have. This is punishment.”

I gave her frantic look. “Or torment,” I whispered.

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. “Yes.”

I shuddered, my pussy locked tight around the vibrating egg. The piercing sensation at each breast left me breathless and the pain at my clit only combined with the pleasure of the egg stimulating me. My brain couldn’t cope. Everything felt horrible and wonderful, all at the same time.

“Enjoy,” Kari said softly and lifted a hand to my face. Her eyes were soft and loving and just a tad bit cruel. She walked away, leaving the door half open.

She didn’t make it far before I cried out, bringing her right back, laughing.

***

“That was amazing,” he said as I extracted myself from the convoluted position. John Post, CPA, was lying back in an easy chair, in his main office, across from his desk, his small and withered cock lying limp and very wet against his thigh. I stood up and found my Core Driller dildo, picking it up from where it was lying on the floor.

“I’m glad you liked it, Sir.”

He glanced over at me as I put one of my stilettoes on his little coffee table. He watched with silent satisfaction as I pressed the tip against my already, well fucked pussy and pushed. The Core Driller slid in deep and I groaned.

“I’m surprised you can take that,” he said honestly. “I mean, what with you cumming like that.” He suddenly blushed. “I’ve never had a woman orgasm on top of me before.”

I smiled over at him, trying to ignore the already sinking feeling in my stomach. “Yes, well, you were very good,” I said, lying. John had been pretty much a static fixture that I’d used. The fact that he’d cum too was more of an afterthought, despite Julie’s orders to satisfy the guy who’d spanked me. In my defence, I’d been terribly horny, thanks to an extra forty minutes getting sexually tortured on Kari’s punishment frame. She hadn’t been lying about leaving me there for the full hour, arms bound above my head, legs spread wide, toes dangling a foot off the ground, all while the vibrating egg churned inside my pussy and agonizing jolts of electricity fried my nipples and clit. When she’d pulled me off, the TENS Unit had been on Level 6 and I was close to cumming again.

I held the Core Driller in while I found my panties and pressed my thighs together long enough to straighten them out. Mr. Post seemed to enjoy that as well, but he began putting himself back together too. His briefs got pulled back up and I tossed him his trousers. A big man, he took some time getting his attire in place. By then I was already buttoning my shirt.

“Do you have any idea of the effect you have on men, dressing like that?”

I couldn’t resist. “No. Why?” I asked, knowing damn well the effect my choice of attire had on men.

“It’s like an invitation to eat at a steak buffet,” John explained to me. “Delicious.”

I smiled woodenly. A yes, the USDA prime choice analogy. I’d never heard that one before. “I hope you enjoyed your meal then?” I asked.

He laughed. “Yes, but you know, if you want a good screwing, I’m always happy to provide. You don’t have to come begging for a spanking.”

I took a deep breath and licked my lips. I twisted slightly and tried to look at my own ass. “Does it show?” I asked. I could see just a hint of a fading handprint, still a rosy pink against white cream.

John shrugged. “A bit. I mean, you did make me give you the full twenty strokes you asked for.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

He laughed. “I mean, sure I don’t mind the whole naughty girl thing, but honestly, I’m more than willing to satisfy your needs without the,” he coughed gently. “Theatrics.”

I grabbed my skirt and stepped into it, feeling the Core Driller move inside me. It felt good, but only because I’d had another orgasm, just a few minutes before. I pulled the material up and made sure everything looked good. I took a deep breath.

“Well, thank you very much for helping me out…” I said. “I’ve really got to get back down to Kari’s office though.”

He nodded and walked me to the door. “Absolutely. And call any time, okay? I don’t usually have clients at this hour.”

I smiled at him, then went up on tiptoe and kissed him, gently. Right on the lips. He seemed to glow. I knew that regardless of anything else, I had literally made this man’s day. He’d smile for a week. Maybe two. All for a simple over the knee spanking, a lap dance, and a good, solid fuck. If only my life could be so easy. And sweet.

He waved goodbye as I headed down the hall toward the elevator. I knew that Kari was already gone for the day, so I didn’t need to go  back to the office, but I was running just a bit late. My mother would be waiting with Rachel.

With a sigh, I pulled out my phone and opened the email application. There it was - Julie’s little temper tantrum. I’d added one, stupid, small, fucking dot. That’s it. A dot. A period! A point! I began typing.

Julie, I spent an hour on the punishment frame, with both the vibrating egg and the TENS Unit. It was excruciating. Unfortunately, things sort of got out of hand and…

I looked up and couldn’t help it. I laughed. I laughed hard. I’d had an orgasm while riding John Post’s post! I quickly finished typing and hit send. I’d almost made it to my car, when my phone chimed. I’d received an email. But I didn’t pull it out. Or check it. I knew exactly what I said.

I was going to be punished.

Oh my. What a surprise.

 
 
 
 
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 Amazon.com, 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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