“Are you ready?” Paul asked me, giving me an uncomfortable, somewhat skeptical look. His sandy brown hair was cut short and he’d put on some muscle since the last time I’d seen him. Now, in his early twenties, he was much more man and less teenager, and I liked the change in him. I reached out and patted his arm, though I admit I wasn’t exactly feeling calm about things either.
Ready, in my case, is highly subjective.
I gave Paul a shrug. “I suppose so, though I admit that I’m a little nervous about this.”
He looked up at me. “Well, you don’t have to do this,” he said, gesturing at the box and the double wrapped set of wires running from it.
I took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah. I sort of do.” I gave him an appreciative glance. “Thanks for being willing to help.”
Paul smiled. “Well, it’s always worth it to spend time with you. This morning was great, by the way.”
I grinned, remembering. Paul had tied me down spread-eagled to his bed right after I’d arrived and I’ve rarely has such a memorable torture session when my tormentor used nothing but a paint brush. He’d made me beg, multiple times, before finally allowing me to cum. Now it was payback time though and the assignment presented by Master Lukas bordered on evil.
We stood on the campus of Paul’s college, which was already a week into the fall semester. Hurricane Harvey hadn’t quite managed to flood this part of Houston and as a result, the campus was bustling. A ton of underclassmen were wandering around, and the only thing that kept me from being a spectacle was the fact that for once, I was completely dressed.
Yeah. Gasp.
I was wearing a solid blue blouse that did a very nice job of accentuating my curves without making a display of it. The collar made it clear I had a bit of cleavage to be proud of, and even the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra wasn’t a big deal. The white skirt was almost knee-length and playful, without being indecent. Any college coed would be wearing them. My feet? Flats. Sandals. Comfortable and pretty without screaming “slut.” In fact, the only weird thing about my entire ensemble was the heavy canvas bag I had over one shoulder, the wires leading from the bag under my clothes, not to mention, the cable that ran to the handmade, metal button box held by Paul.
“Do you want to test it?” Paul said, holding up the box. My face went white.
“God no,” I replied, eyes widening as we began walking slowly along the path.
“Are you sure?” He asked, somewhat confused.
I sighed. “Look. I can see that it’s all on. I don’t want to have to deal with more than I absolutely have to. If it doesn’t work, we go back to Mike and declare a technological failure. I don’t get punished and I don’t have to put my ass on the line for science.”
Paul snorted. “I’m not sure you can call this science,” he assured me. He pointed to a building in front of us. “There. That’s the dorm.”
I bit my lip. “Alright. Let’s get going.”
It didn’t take us long to get in, thanks to Paul’s school ID and a little wheedling, and we made our way up to one of the hallways. After that it became a waiting game, and we didn’t have to wait very long. In just two or three minutes a young man, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen years of age, came strolling down the hallway.
“Hi,” I said brightly. “Excuse me. I was wondering if you had a moment.”
He slowed, curious. And perhaps interested. I mean, why would a pretty girl have wires running up under her clothes, going to and from a box with two big buttons?
“Hey, thanks for helping,” Paul said with a grin. “We’re conducting a simple experiment on social interactions. What’s your name?”
“Jim,” the young man replied.
“Hi Jim,” I said warmly, smiling. I wanted, very much, to make this young man like me.
He grinned back at me.
“Okay, Jim. This is pretty simple. See this box?” Paul held up the control box with the two buttons. “There are a pair of buttons here and what we’d like you to do is push one.”
Jim looked a bit skeptical. “That’s it? What do they do?”
Paul grinned. “Well, this green one turns on a vibrator in Breanne’s pussy,” Paul replied. “Here. Watch.” Paul pressed the green button and I gasped as the RVP in my slit went into overdrive. My hands went down to the dip at the front of my skirt and the sound, which was very audible, changed. Vibrations and the corkscrewing sensation of the four inch long probe churning in my depths made me sway and I blushed prettily. For the next thirty seconds I quivered in front of both guys, clearly reacting to the sexual stimulation.
“Freaking awesome!” Jim exclaimed, laughing. “What does the red one do?
Paul gave Jim an uncomfortable look. “Well, that’s a different story,” he said “The red button isn’t very nice. It will hurt.”
“Me?” Jim asked.
“What?” Paul asked. “Of course not. Her!” He said pointing at me.
I blinked as Jim gave me a curious look. Paul sighed. Then he reached out, and grabbed my shirt, yanking it up.
I did let out a little squeal as Jim’s eyeballs seemed to pop out of his skull. Of course that meant he got a good look at my tits, the gold piercings through both nipples, the silly, charm-sized padlock dangling from the right hoop, and most of all, the white, wired, electrostim tabs stuck to either side of each nipple.
“Holy shit,” Jim observed, eyes wide.
Paul tugged my shirt back down. “Exactly. There’s one over her clit too, so remember she gets shocked down there as well. We also have to sweeten the deal. If you press the red button, she gets zapped for a full thirty seconds. But when she’s done frying, she will get down on her knees and suck your cock until you cum.
Jim blinked. “You’re kidding me.” He glanced at me and I nodded, my face scarlet.
Paul nodded. “Of course, in order to get her mouth wrapped around your cock, you’ve got to shock her. She’s got a TENS Unit in the bag and she’s already wired up. Press that red button and to her, it will feel like having hot needles shoved through her tits.”
Jim looked at me with uncertainty. “I don’t understand. If I hurt you, why would you be willing to suck my cock?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s an experiment I agreed to. Honestly, I’d rather not be hurt at all. You could press the green button. You don’t get the blowjob, but for thirty seconds the vibrator is going to make me feel amazing. I might even cum,” I said softly, almost sadly. Hopeful even.
Paul held out the box. “Press a button. Decide. Does she fry so you can get your cock sucked? Or are you going to spare her and maybe even make her cum?”
Jim took the box, indecision writ large upon his face. He looked back and forth, considering his options, and I stared at him, my eyes expressive, silently pleading with him. Then his mouth formed a straight line and he lifted his hand to the control box. I watched, holding my breath, as he made his choice, and pressed a button.
***
I know. Extensive, fancy title for a girl who basically walks around in public, essentially offering her ass to any and all comers, for pokies and spankings, all for free. But I worked damn hard to get that title and I’m sticking to it. But that’s not what this is about. Nope. It’s supposed to be a one page essay. A punishment essay. Now I know what you’re thinking. What could a nympho humiliation pain slut possibly have as a topic for her essay? 
