Advise & Consent

“I think I'm going to cum,” I blurted out, my face reddening as Kari looked up. She had been studying an all-leather sofa that had a nine thousand dollar price tag and the look of both pleasure at my predicament, and irritation at the interruption, made my insides tighten up in trepidation. I stood there like a bug under a microscope, my arms crossed over my chest, my hips shaking as the vibroballs rolled, rattled, and rocked inside me. The tiny motors had been set to high ever since we'd entered the luxury furniture store and over the last thirty minutes I'd spent the time resisting the siren call of orgasm, all while working to mitigate the lustful gaze of the salesman hovering thirty feet away. He'd kept a respectful distance, clearly wanting to be on hand in case Kari had a question or elected to purchase something. But I suspected his other goal was to keep the delicious eye candy in sight. And it sure as hell wasn’t Kari he was staring at hungrily.

“I would advise against it, unless you want to be punished,” Kari said in a light, but firm voice. I had little doubt the salesman heard her. But at that particular moment, considering the tension and pressures being inflicted upon me, I didn't really care. Bad enough I was waltzing around with my breasts barely covered, the peasant blouse hanging from a single elastic strand wrapped around my torso, but the blue denim skirt was too short to cover my bottom properly. Kari had been taking outrageous advantage of the fact, ordering me to sit down on over a dozen couches, in various positions, giving our audience frequent opportunities to glimpse my shaved, slick, slit.

I glared at her. Punished? Seriously? I tried to keep the frustration and tension out of my voice, but it still came across as a short hiss. “Want?” I demanded. I glanced back at the salesclerk and took a few steps closer to lessen the chances of being overheard. “You're the one who turned the vibroballs to high! How is it my fault I'm close to cumming?”

“Not close enough to prevent you from complaining I notice,” she sniffed. She pushed her glasses down and looked at me over the rim. “Breanne, it is my prerogative to inflict any state of sexual arousal upon you I wish, for whatever length of time I desire. In addition, I have de facto right to require whatever stipulations I can think of. Right now I wish you to be insanely aroused, humiliated by your attire, paraded around in public, flashing your sexual bits, on the verge of cumming. Should you feel that you are unable to meet these requirements then you will not only be subjected to the forthcoming punishment, but will do so willingly and cheerfully, as a proper nympho humiliation pain slut should.”

It was quite the speech. I sort of listened to it. But when she was done I stood there, frozen for a moment. She gave me a peculiar look, as if she were expecting me to mouth off, or say something sarcastic. Instead I closed my eyes, shuddered, pressed a hand to sex, and popped.

“Oh my God,” I said softly, my voice trembling. “I'm cumming.”

It was a ridiculous thing to say, but I'd grown accustomed to being forced to announce my sexual climaxes in an embarrassing and public fashion. I felt a surge of wetness that soaked my thighs and my heart seemed to race. I gripped the back of the leather sofa as I swayed, my body reacting to the influx of delicious, all natural chemicals that reward the psyche upon sexual release.

I admit it. I'm an addict.

“And thus the punishment, “ said Kari in satisfaction.

It took me maybe thirty seconds to collect myself and I glanced back at the salesman. He was Indian, his thick, dark hair shiny and black. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat too and I couldn't help wondering just how much he had picked up on from thirty feet away. Kari studied me for a moment, then nodded.

“I think a spanking is appropriate,” she stated.

That snapped me out of my euphoria. “What?” I gasped, my pussy tightening around the vibroballs which were still trembling violently.  

Kari smiled. “Yes. A decent hand spanking. With the appropriate accoutrements.”

Spankings are not my favorite thing to endure. First of all, there were some specific rules involved. My mouth went dry. Tears welled up in my eyes as I contemplated the utter humiliation and discomfort headed my way. Kari opened her large purse and reached in. Her hand came back out clutching a purple plastic pendant, which was attached to a rubber tipped clip.

“Here, put this on,” she said, handing me the tiny vibrator.

I took it gingerly, trying to figure out how the hell I was supposed to attach the damn thing to my clit without the sales clerk seeing. Kari turned away from me.

“Ashok?”

The salesclerk hurried forward. “Yes, Ms.Anders?”

“I know we’ve taken much of your time, but I have an additional favor to ask.”

Ashok grinned. “Anything for you Ms.Anders. You are one of our best customers,” Ash insisted, giving me a sideways glance.

Kari smiled at him patiently. “”I'm afraid my assistant has been a bit naughty, and is in need of punishment. I believe a spanking is appropriate under the circumstances. Do you mind if we do it right here?”

The rest of this tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but can be found in Breanne's book "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 18" which is available in e-book format from Amazon.com!

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