Nick's Night - Part One

I paced around my apartment, my bare feet thudding softly on the carpet, waiting for the person I was calling to pick up. It took four rings before the line went to voicemail and I sighed in exasperation, throwing the phone down onto the bed in frustration.

“Neither of them?” I asked no one in particular, raising my eyes toward the ceiling. “Neither of them are answering? What if I was in trouble? What if I were hurt? What if I needed…” my voice trailed off because that was the problem. Need, of the most intense sort.

My day, up to that point, had been mildly frustrating. Kari had been in one of her creative moods, practically locking herself into the art room, leaving me to my own devices. And by devices, I mean the vibroballs that I’d slipped inside myself that morning. I’d turned them on for fifteen minutes stretches, each hour, on low, per her standing instructions, which only kept me insanely wet and desperate for more attention. I’d gotten a ton of writing done; a full fifteen pages. And there had been a quick desk fuck in the upstairs office of one of the CPAs that work in our building. But that had been so vanilla that it practically wasn’t worth anything.

I had fire running through my veins that needed quenching and that was a bad thing.

Neither Kari nor Julie were answering their phones and to be fair, I knew why. Kari was probably doing something with her husband Robert, which was understandable. They had active social lives that frequently did not include me, especially in the evening. They were constantly going to galas, parties, grand openings, and other elitist events that would not have reacted well to a scantily clad redheaded fuck slut following in Kari’s wake. It was one of the reasons that having two mistresses worked out well for me. Kari had me during the daylight hours, while Julie had me for the evenings.

Except… she didn’t. Not really.

As a parent, I had responsibilities, so most weekday nights I spent at home. I cooked for my daughter. I helped her with her homework. We read together. We got ready for bed. Then we would go to sleep. Julie had compensated for my lack of availability by finding someone else to fuck stupid. I didn’t mind that of course. She and Mike the Hardware Guy were now quite the cute couple and even I could see that the romance between them was real and special. I just hadn’t been expecting it. Julie had moved out of her apartment and in with him, which put a thirty-five minute drive between the two of us during non-rush hour traffic. She was busy.

The nice thing about being me though, is that I have alternative options. So I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts list, considered two or three names, only to have my thumb hover over one in particular. I knew he’d pick up, and I knew he’d be available. The only issue was that I also knew that I’d barely be able to walk afterward. Then my pussy contracted wetly around the still silent, still unsatisfactory vibroballs and I made my decision. I pressed the button.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Well hello,” Nick drawled. “I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you.”

I’d met Nick four or five years before after a seriously bad bout of pneumonia had left me hospitalized. Oddly enough, he had been visiting a friend who had been sharing a room with me and a relationship developed. It had been Nick who had pushed me back into the semi-public life I lead as a nympho humiliation pain slut. And I appreciated that. Nick had flitted in and out of my life since then, but one thing I knew about him was that he had a tendency to push my limits. Sex with him was about straining capacities. And since that’s sort of what I was looking for, I smiled at the inflection in his voice. He wanted me too.

“I was wondering if you were interested in spending some time with me this evening?” I asked carefully.

He paused. “That depends. Are you giving yourself over to me?”

I laughed. “For the duration of the evening, yes.”

“Well, you have my attention, but I have to warn you that I’m feeling unusually energetic and sadistic. You’ll lose your voice.”

I blinked. “I’ll lose my voice?” I asked skeptically, wondering how the hell he was going to fuck me to a point where I’d not be able to talk anymore. “What, you’re going to gag me or something?”

He chuckled. “No. But you’ll be screaming so much you’ll go hoarse.”

I started to laugh, but there was something in his voice that made me pause. “The ‘oh my God yes’ sort of screaming? Or the ‘holy fuck that fucking hurts do it some more’ sort of screaming?”

“Yes,” he replied smugly.

I sighed. Admittedly I reconsidered it, but the pressure that had built between my legs was just too much.

“Okay, I’m in. Sign me up for horrible sexual torture,” I agreed.

He laughed. “When?”

“I’ve got to drop Rachel off at my parents,” I told him. “Should I pick us up a bite to eat?”

“Nah, I’ll take you out for dinner. Wear the gray summer dress.”

I squirmed slightly at that. The gray summer dress was actually decent, with a collar that hugged the throat, bare shoulders and arms, and had a wide open back. It wasn’t super sexy, or revealing. But it was soft and malleable. That did not bode well. “Okay,” I replied. “Shoes?”

I could practically hear him shrug. “Whatever. You won’t be wearing them long. And considering what I’m going to do to the bottoms of your feet, you might want something simple and soft for the ride home.”

I paused. “Ride? Why wouldn’t I drive myself home?”

Nick laughed. Evilly. “Because you won’t be in a condition to drive yourself. See you soon.”  He hung up.

I set down the phone and started to strip as I padded into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror.

“Okay, girl. You’re getting what you asked for,” I told myself, my lips pressed firm and in a thin line. I looked at myself, naked in the mirror, a blank canvas ready for paint.

Why the hell did I feel so nervous then?

***

When I arrived at Nick’s apartment, I was wearing a pair of high heeled sandals that I thought went well with my dress. I’d elected to go sans panties, and a bra was already out considering the dress I was wearing had no back, so in essence I had a single article of clothing to my name, along with a small purse that held my wallet, about half a dozen condoms, two different sets of nipple clamps, and my phone. Oh, and a battery pack. He opened the door a second after I knocked and he looked down on me with hungry eyes.

I felt a shiver of trepidation run through me. I imagined that was exactly how a wounded zebra felt on the Serengeti, being stalked by a lion.

Nick was tall, but not basketball tall. Even with my heels he stood over me by a good six inches. His hair was dark brown and he had an impressive, clean shaven chin. Neither fat nor thin, he was relatively average in the physique department, which didn’t bother me in the least. I don’t need washboard abs to be attracted to a guy. It’s all about attitude. And Nick had plenty.

“Well, Breanne Erickson, my favorite nympho humiliation pain slut,” he said casually, leaning against the door frame. I smiled.

“You know more than one?” I queried with just a bit of snark. I knew I could get away with it. Nick appreciated a little bit of witty banter. It would give him a justifiable excuse to punish me.  Besides, there aren’t a lot of us out there. Two that I know of, and one lives in California and one in the United Kingdom. I doubted Nick had been banging either of them.

“What’s the toy of the day?” he asked me, though I’m pretty sure he noticed the bright pink wire coming out from under my hem and going up to my handbag.

“Vibroballs,” I told him simply. “They’re off.”

He nodded. “Okay. Take off the dress,” he told me, though he didn’t move. He was still blocking the doorway. My eyebrow went up.

“Here?”

He grinned. “Right here.”

“I thought we were going to go get some dinner?” I sidetracked. The doorway of Nick’s apartment wasn’t terribly exposed, but his neighbor’s door was literally next to his. This wasn’t exactly a great place to undress.

He shook his head. “First we’re going to do an assessment of your horniness. Then I’m going to hurt you while you make me cum. Then we’re going to dinner.”

I blinked. “Um, will I get to cum?”

He laughed. “I doubt it. Not unless you get off on the abuse I’m about to inflict on your pussy.”

I swallowed. “Well, you never know,” I said glibly, not feeling confident at all. “So the idea is to take me out aroused?”

Nick reached out, put his finger on my chin, and lifted it up so our eyes met. “Breanne, you will be so fucking desperate when we go out to eat that you’ll be begging me to fuck you up at the restaurant.”

“Uh… you mean fuck me. Not fuck me up,” I amended.

“No, I meant exactly what I said. Now take off your dress.”

I took a deep breath. I’d already made up my mind, but it perhaps didn’t quite show as firmly as Nick would have desired. I looked hesitant, worried. Still, I peeled my dress up, despite standing in the doorway of his apartment. In seconds I was standing there in the buff, my pierced breasts hanging out, begging for a whipping. My well rounded posterior hung out, facing the walkway, and my stuffed pussy glistened with anticipatory wetness. Nick held out his hand and I handed him my dress, though I obviously kept my purse. The pink wire running to my pussy was quite visible against my white skin.

Nick reached into his pocket and brought out three clothespins. He held them out to me. “Put them on. Nipples and clit.”

I took them, but I also glanced around. This was called “public nudity” in police parlance and the sexual connotation put it dangerously close to “lewdness.” Still, no one was around, so I did as told. The tight bite of the wooden pegs on my nipples went straight to my sex, making my wet slit tighten around the vibroballs. I spent some time positioning the last clothespin, letting it close on my clitoris with a gasp. It felt incredible and my slippery hot sex tingled with anticipation. I looked up at Nick, slightly breathless, loving the thrill of being naked outside, fearing the risk of being caught, and enduring the delicious bite and pain of the clamps.

“Now, you’re going to get on your hands and knees and crawl into the living room,” Nick explained easily. “You’re going to sit down on the coffee table, lay back, and spread your legs open as far and as wide as you can.”

“Okay,” I gulped.

His eyebrow went up. “Just okay? No smart alec quips? No snarky repartee? No questions why?”

“I know why,” I replied. “Can I get on my knees now, sir?”

He pursed his lips, then nodded. I dropped down. The concrete wasn’t comfortable, but he moved out of my way as I crawled into his apartment. How could he not realize that I was going to cooperate completely, just in order to get out of the public space?

Nick’s apartment wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t picked up either. Beer bottles stood on a few tables, some dishes clearly needed to be put away, but I wasn’t there to be his maid. Just his little nympho humiliation pain slut. I turned to my left, saw the couch and coffee table, and made me crawl over. Large, sturdy, and square, this wasn’t going to be my first time on Nick’s coffee table. I lifted my head and torso, rising up, when I caught sight of the flogger and leather sap. A tightness spread across me and I wondered just how bad things were going to get. I lay back. The coffee table was wide enough to support my entire body, but my head dangled uncomfortably off the other side. I didn’t like it, and knew I’d get tired quickly, but couldn’t think of a good way to complain about it. I spread my legs and then Nick was there. I felt him grab my left foot and watched as he buckled on a rather nice, black leather bondage cuff. Evidently he’d threaded rope under the coffee table and when he did my other foot, he was able to tie me down and open with an impressive strain on my thighs. I groaned with pleasure at the sensation. I’ve always loved being spread open and tied that way is even better. I love the feeling of helplessness, of exposure, and of being stretched and strained. His fingers found my dripping cunt and he rubbed the smooth, slick petals before tying off my hands. I moaned prodigiously.

“There,” he announced, when I was securely bound to the table. “Now I’m going to whip you, right between the legs, while you give me a blowjob.” He stripped off his jeans and then his boxers, retrieving the flogger and sap and setting them down next to me.

“You really want to smack me with a whip when your cock is between my teeth?” I dared him. He laughed.

“I don’t think you’ll bite me. And if you do, the punishment you’ll get for that will make a simple flogging of your girlie bits seem like a love tap.” Then he moved between the table and the television, his nutsack just a foot above my face, and he knelt, literally resting his scrotum on my face. I didn’t have a lot of maneuverability, but I was able to tilt my head and start licking his balls. He didn’t make any noise, and I couldn’t see his face, but he did pick up the flogger. This particular weapon was rubber and had about a zillion strands, but I didn’t mind. What Nick didn’t realize was that the whip didn’t have a whole lot of bite. Not compared with the leather sap. I felt him drag the ends of the rubber strands across my breasts, making the clothespins still clinging there jiggle. That hurt, but I loved it too.

He lifted the whip off my body and began swinging it in a circle. He didn’t hit my pussy though, or my thighs. His first few strokes slashed across my boobs. I yelped loudly as the pain shot down through me, but I realized a moment later that he wasn’t aiming at my chest specifically. He was aiming at the two clothespins sticking straight up from my nipples. Each stroke forced the wooden pegs to bend and twist, sending shards of hurting glass cutting through my nerves.

Then Nick lowered himself and I realized that the main reason he hadn’t wanted my head supported by the coffee table was because it would be tough to kneel upright and fuck my mouth if I’d been looking straight up. Instead I found myself staring at his testicles, his cock pushed into my mouth, the blood rushing up into the top of my head, as he picked up the whip again. He had a perfect angle too – not for cocksucking – but for cunt whipping, and the flogger swung down with enough straight up force to rip the clothespin he’d made me put on my clit right off. I yelped loudly again, despite the cock in my mouth. My thighs tightened as my legs pulled on the ropes and bondage cuffs, but he’d tied me pretty good. My sex squeezed the vibroballs, but because he’d hit with enough force not just to remove the wooden peg and leave a sting, it felt more like the promised punishment than some sort of kinky foreplay.

Still, my body responded predictably. I felt my sex tighten in rhythmic spasms. My pulse quickened and my chest heaved. My brain began to shut down the higher thought functions in order to keep up with the stimulation being inflicted upon my body. The cock in my mouth set the stage and Nick’s flogger danced across my breasts, tummy and pussy, leaving me ready for more.

As I struggled to suck cock upside down, which is not easy by the way, Nick began slapping the flogger against my thighs. At first I thought his aim was just lousy when he smacked my inner right leg, but then as he placed another swat on my labia and clit, only to nail my left thigh in turn, I began to realize that he was working himself into a pattern. The flogger swung in circles, starting at one knee and working across my crotch until he got to the calf of the other leg. Then back again. Each blow seemed firm and while I wasn’t going to leave me screeching, I could feel the blooming heat of the beating.

But what really got to me was the fact that my pussy wanted to be hit more. I was craving it. Each time he got closer I got more excited, sucking harder on his cock, licking more forcefully, trying to communicate my needs. I wanted more than just the flogging. I wanted him to smack my gash into paste. I wanted him to beat my clit. I wanted him to lick and fuck me stupid. I wanted to cum. Hard. And instead I got this light dusting that just left me humming with desperation. Well… more desperation… than before.

His shaft was rock hard too, and I thought that maybe if I got him off he’d be more willing to spend some direct time on my clit. If nothing else, it would get my mouth free so I could beg. So I focused on that, rather than the building heat and residual string of frustrating blows moving across my loins. My ass tightened up as my hips began pumping and if he couldn’t see that I was rising up to meet his strokes, then I’d have been willing to eat my shirt.

Well, okay. Dress. Or some of my dress. Wherever the hell Nick had put it.

As he got closer to cumming though, I detected a distinct shift in his focus and way more strokes began landing directly between my legs. I loved it and began eagerly devouring his cock. My ass was thumping against the coffee table, my pussy quivering with both stinging heat and desperate desire. I moaned loudly, around the thick shaft wetly pumping in my mouth, only to get two quick slashes of the flogger across my quivering breasts. One tore the clothespin off my left nipple, and that hurt like hell, but the one on my right tit took both hits like a champ and stayed there, sticking straight up like one of those knock down clowns on a carnival midway. Nick, who was clearly getting ready to shoot his load, went back to beating me between the legs, the cracking sound of the rubber whip striking wet, swollen flesh loud and clear. I squealed as the intensity of it grew and I would have traded just about anything to have my hands free so that I could grab the man’s cock and rub him into the necessary release. Instead, I could only lay there, barely moving, a living breathing tied down fuck doll.

And a target.

Nick let out a tense groan and I knew he’d finally gotten to the point. His strokes with the whip faltered, though he still managed one or two more across my torso, stinging my tummy and leaving marks across my hip. Then his cock jerked and shuddered. I took a deep breath of air, in expectation, and I wasn’t left wanting. His thick salty cream blasted its way down my throat, making me choke and sputter as I tried to swallow it all. Evidently that wasn’t quite to Nick expectations and he yanked his cock out of my mouth, his fist pumping the hard shaft, and another stream shot out, splattering my belly and pussy, leaving me wet from cunt to chin. Another, smaller spurt left globs of white across my chest and as he relaxed, letting go of his cock, he began swinging the flogger again.

The first stroke of this second round ripped the last clothespin off my breast and I did scream a little, along with some choice commentary now that my mouth wasn’t full. I gritted my teeth as he spent over a minute hitting my tits, smacking them back and forth with the whip, turning my bosom a nice shade of light pink, before he turned once more to my stretched open loins. My thighs were flushed and my pussy itself dark, but he mixed the moisture of his cum with my own sopping wet juices, using the wet strands of the flogger to open my labia and dig in deep. Even then, he couldn’t really do anything serious with the flogger and I think he realized that a moment later, as all I did was make loud, high-pitched noises of distress. He moved around to the couch, right by my open sex, sat down, and picked up the leather sap.

“Do you want to cum now, Breanne?” He asked me, holding the leather paddle a few inches above my gaping hole.

I lifted my head and nodded frantically. “Oh God yes! Please! Oh please! I need to cum! Please!”

“How many strokes do you think an orgasm is worth?” He asked but then he grabbed at the wire leading to my pussy, following it not to my wet, dark pink slit, but to my purse. He pulled the vibroballs controller out.

“As many as it takes,” I moaned. He nodded. Then he turned the vibroballs on. To full power.

My quivering depths did a double take and had those vibroballs been any more fragile I might have crushed them. As it was, my entire lower half went to high speed, thumping hard as the vibrations drove me way closer to the edge than I’d expected. Sure, I’d been in the vicinity, but this… wow. I closed my eyes and let my head drop back. I braced myself for what was coming.

Nick hit my pussy with a hard enough smack to splatter girl goo across the paddle and over his lap. He adjusted his aim, targeting my clit directly, and began pounding me with forceful, steady strokes. My heels thumped on the coffee table as I strained, my bound open legs tensing. I keened out a pained, but exquisite wail, and as I felt the oncoming orgasm rear its head, I began blubbering, begging him to hit me harder.

Which is when he dropped the paddle on my tummy, leaned back, and sighed.

For the first few seconds I was dumbstruck. My pussy was on fire, both from the beating and the need and I wanted him to either fuck me stupid, or finish up and turn my slit into tenderized raw meat. One or the other damnit. Preferably both? Instead he put his hands up behind his head, lifted his bare foot, and jammed the arch up against my dripping, stinging cunt. I gasped. It felt good. I needed it. But it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.

“Whip me? Please? Oh God Nick! Beat me! Please! Hit my pussy with the sap!” I bleated.

Instead he just jiggled his foot. I struggled in vain, perched on a precipice. The vibroballs purred and his foot pressed heavily on my cunt, but there wasn’t quite enough to push me over. I wanted, no needed him to hit me again. I lifted my head. Our eyes met.

“Nick,” I croaked. “Please? Whip my pussy? Please? PLEASE? FUCK PLEASE?”

Nick smiled cruelly and said nothing. But he did wiggle his foot. Just a little.

“Nick! Damnit! You can’t do this to me!” I spat. My head fell back. I couldn’t keep it up. Already the urgency of need was starting to fade, and not in a nice way. Then he moved his foot and I tensed, expecting the needed stroke of the sap. Instead there was a pressure, something pulling, and the two vibroballs popped out of my convulsing gash, rattling loudly against each other. I groaned, a horrible disappointment spreading through me. I lay there panting and then something hard and painful grabbed hold of my clit, twisting slightly. I let out a pained mewl and looked. The clothespin. He’d put it back on. Then he leaned over me and set the other two wooden pegs that he’d knocked off my tits back on my nipples.

“Now you’re ready for dinner,” he said simply. “Let me get your dress.”

To be continued...

This tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but is now available in Breanne Erickson's Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 20, in e-book format from Amazon.com! Get your copy today!