Quarantine Punishment #2

I set the bar stool in front of the bedroom window and looked out. It was a dreary day, with rain clouds threatening on the horizon, casting a bleak and grayish light across the half-empty parking lot. Inside the room, the lights were out and the shadows were deep giving off a sort of sad vibe. It was just after lunch and I leaned on the wooden back of the bar stool, wondering if it were going to rain. I breathed deeply, steadily, trying to come to terms with myself, my enforced quarantine, the nature of reality, and my place in it, when rather suddenly, twelve full inches of silicone covered plastic, stuffed with a pair of battery operated motors, roared to life between my legs, shaking violently. 

My physical response was immediate. My knees slammed together so loudly that I heard an audible klunk and my thighs pressed tightly against each other. My pussy, already wet and bothered and on edge, tightened, only to ripple in a series of urgent spasms that left me whimpering with need. The absolute surge of immediate sexual deprivation shot up through my loins, straight to my brain, where the acute pleasure did all sorts of bad things to my inhibitions. 

I gripped the chair, holding on for dear life, as I saw the mountain of orgasm before me. I rushed toward it, blindingly fast, my sex quivering and reacting to the intense, purposeful stimulation. I raced up the hill, toward the cliffs, totally intent on leaping from the stark edge, out into the abyss, embracing the utter abandon of climax.

Except the fucking Monster Vibrator went silent, before I could fucking do it. My room once more returned to silence, with only my panting breaths seemingly loud and ragged in my ears. Groaning in frustration, I let go of the stool and leaned back to collapse onto the bed. It had been an ongoing thing all morning. Julie, my domme and mistress, had ordered me to keep the wi-fi connected, remotely operated, multi-motor vibrator buried in my slit since that morning. The damn thing only had one switch: on and off, and the second I flipped that button, I knew that someone else was in control of my pussy. Julie had been especially cruel, sending little swirls of pleasure my direction every fifteen or so minutes; just enough to make me tighten around the foot-long phallus, but never enough to drive me over the edge. Worse, at the top and bottom of each hour, I’d been subjected to much longer durations of intense stimulation, a full minute or two of powerful, almost violent vibrations that had left me panting each time. 

Because I hadn’t been allowed to cum.

I stared up at the ceiling, struggling with the surge of absolute, utter desire, and the need to reach into my pajama bottoms and just pump the damn thing in and out of my slit, when my phone rang. I rolled my eyes, even more frustrated, and sat up. I had to climb up out of the bed to reach the small desk I kept opposite the footboard, and I grabbed my phone, answering it with a swipe of my phone.

“I hate you,” I said bitterly, as a means of greeting the caller. Hopefully it was someone I knew.

Julie laughed on the other end of the line. “You don’t mean that, princess,” She assured me. 

I bit my lip. I was so fucking tense. “I do. I mean it with all my heart,” I spat. 

“Ah,” she said cheerfully. “But do you mean it with all your pussy?”

I blinked. All my… what?”

“Are you ready for your punishment?” She asked, not even giving me the chance to come up with some witty repartee. 

I frowned. Punishment. As if the non-stop torment she’d inflicted upon me from that morning hadn’t counted! I shook my head. Every day, no matter what I did, she found something to punish me for. I didn’t wear a clamp right. I masturbated a bit too long. I didn’t check my email at the right time. Oh… and was I supposed to know this shit before I did it? Nope. Just random stuff. You aren’t doing this right! And wham. Punishment. 

“I suppose,” I muttered. I wondered if I could claim that my phone was sick with Coronavirus and had to shut down.

Julie snickered. “Excellent! So let’s start off with what you’re wearing. I’m hoping you’re about to say that you are buck naked.”

I glanced at the mirror hanging on the open closet door. It did not show me a naked, redheaded, fuck slut.  Instead, a nice looking woman in her early thirties glared back at me, dressed in some rather comfortable looking, but relaxed pajamas; shorts and a crop. Certainly not the sort of erotic outfit you might expect from a certified nympho humiliation pain slut. 

“Pajamas,” I said darkly. “Silk bottoms and a crop top. Blue.”

Julie made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Tsk, tsk, Bre. You know the proper way to do it,” she chided. 

I sighed in exasperation and looked down. “I’m barefoot, okay? No socks, shoes, flipflops, or high heels. The pajama bottoms are shorts and I’m wearing white undies. On top, I’ve got the matching silk shirt. It’s sleeveless and comfortable. I’m not wearing a bra,” I said, in my least erotic voice ever. Still, Julie seemed to take it in and a she hummed appreciatively. 

“Do you have the equipment I asked you to assemble?”

Arranged on the desktop was a small collection of items that were rather sexual in nature. The first was a large, thick, ten inch long dildo, sporting a suction cup base. Next to it sat three very unique vibrator clamps, each formed with a small, offset motor making up one side. Beside that stood a tube of muscle cream, along with three alligator clamps; two small ones and one very large jumbo version. 

I was understandably concerned. 

“Yes,” I said weakly, trying not to imagine what sort of punishment Julie intended me to inflict upon myself. 

“Good. Move all of it to the windowsill, expect the dildo. Put that on the stool. And put the phone on speaker.”

I was liking this less and less. I set the phone down on the windowsill and turned on the speaker. The stool was much taller than my desk chair and if I sat in it, especially impaled with such a massive cock, I’d be in full view of anyone driving or walking by. I transferred all of the items and then stuck the dildo onto the stool with a rubber sounding smack. The stupid thing wiggled like a bowl of gelatin for a moment, sticking straight up.

“Are the blinds all the way up?” She asked.

I looked out the window. Julie had learned early on during my home self-confinement that I would naturally take advantage of any lapse on her part. Once she’d told me to “open” my blinds, which I took to mean tilt the slats so that I could see out. That earned me a punishment, even after I’d protested that there was a difference between the words “open” and “raise.” She hadn’t been amused. Still, I knew what she wanted and I’d already pulled the drawstring, lifting the white plastic slats up and out of the way. Now nothing stood between me and random passersby beside a pane of transparent glass and good luck. If I were lucky, then no one would walk by. If they were lucky…

“Now strip,” Julie ordered.

I sighed. I had known this was coming. I pushed my shorts down, revealing a pair of pink, bikini cut panties. I kept an eye on the window, ready to dart away from the glass, just in case someone wandered into view. My nerves were already shot and here I was, about to suffer through another humiliating, pain-filled punishment. I pushed the panties down and kicked them into the far corner. The Monster Vibrator, buried within my soaked love tunnel, immediately threatened to slip out. I locked it into place with my hand, then with my thighs. I removed my top and I stood there, one arm wrapped around my bosom, one hand between my legs holding in the vibrator, my heart thudding fast as I anticipated someone driving past and looking in, or maybe the Monster Vibrator switching back on. 

But neither happened. 

“Alright,” I said softly. “I’m naked.” 

“Then it’s time for your punishment,” Julie said. “First, I want you start off by removing the Monster Vibrator. Clean it properly.”

I took a deep breath. Still standing in the very center of the window, I pulled the thick phallus out from between my legs. It was covered in Bre goo, and let me tell you – an hour’s worth of near orgasmic ecstasy can leave a vibrator in a seriously slimy state. I lifted it up, the scent of my arousal nearly overpowering. Now I had to clean it. So I opened my mouth, stuck as much of the thing as I could down my throat, and sucked on it.

The salty, tangy flavor of my own near-orgasms filled my senses and I did my best to noisily slurp and suck the full length clean. This wasn’t so bad, except for the part about me doing it while standing naked at the window, my blatant nudity on display. I noisily slurped, more for Julie’s benefit than mine. When the majority of the Monster Vibrator was clean, I set it aside.

“I’m done,” I told the phone. 

She laughed. “Yes. I could tell. Now it’s time to punish you.”

I sucked in a breath and didn’t even realize I was holding it in until she laughed again. 

“Now Breanne, the first thing you need to do is impale yourself on the dildo. Make sure your legs are spread nice and wide, to either side of the stool, so that anyone walking by gets a really good look at your cunt. In that chair, the dildo should open your labia nice and wide.”

I gulped. I’d expected it the moment she’d told me about the stool, but this was a little more intense than anything she’d forced upon me before. I’d sat in front of the window in my desk chair. I’d knelt on the bed, masturbating. I’d even turned in circles. But to sit this high up, with my pussy on perfect display? This was both explicit and disturbing. I quivered as my body tried to cope with two very different sensations. One part of me was near panic. The other was just desperate to get fucked. 

But what was I to do? Refuse? Argue? I knew how that would turn out. So I climbed up on the stool, standing on the rungs, straddling the seat. I reached down and grabbed the thick, suction cup phallus, positioned it properly, and lowered myself down.

It was shocking how easily that damn thing slid into my pussy. 

The stool saddle itself was quite wide and spreading my legs to the sides of it was only barely possible. I figured Julie knew that, which was why she asked, but it placed some rather intense pressure on my inner thighs, stretching me open. My libido really liked the sensation, arguing with my racing heart as my eyes kept darting back and forth across the visible portion of the parking lot. Still, no one drove by. No one was walking their dog. But I wondered how long that would last. Jumping down from the stool, while sitting impaled with a ten inch rubber cock, legs spread wide with my toes barely touching the rungs, was not exactly conducive to ducking for cover. 

Which was probably the point. 

I let out a groan as I settled down, the thick rubber sliding deep into me. Julie took that as a good sign. She waited as I got myself into position, and when I was relatively comfortable, fully stuffed with rubber, and presenting with my legs open wide, I told her I was ready.

“Excellent. Now you’ll sit there,” she stated deviously. “Until the first car or person walks by.”

I stiffened, my pussy clenching tightly around the rubber dildo. “What?” I gasped.

“You heard me, princess. You will remain sitting there, in that position, stuffed to the brim, until someone walks by, or drives by. I don’t care if they see you or not, but that’s what you’re waiting for.”

I gulped. “What happens when someone sees me?”

“It’s not about them seeing you. It’s about you seeing them. When you do, you get to put on the first of the vibrator clamps. Your left nipple I think. Unless you’d prefer the right side. And yes, you’ll turn it on.”

I sat there, fluids leaking out onto the stool seat around the dildo. I couldn’t help it. I bounced a little. “That’s it?” I blurted out. “You didn’t answer my question. What if they see me?”

Julie chuckled. “What if they do? Call the police? We both know how that will go.”

She was right. I was in my home, and unless they had pictures, my breaking the public lewdness laws, at least in spirit, were going to be ignored. Besides, only men generally get charged with public lewdness. “What about the other clamps?” I asked, switching gears.

Julie chuckled. “Well, the second car or person to drive by, or walk past your window, gets rewarded with you wearing the second clamp. On your other breasts. Then you’ll be sitting there with both tits clamped and buzzing, bouncing up and down on that rubber beast.”

I began to understand the torture. She wasn’t trying to inflict physical suffering on me this time. It was all mental. She was fucking with my head, not just my sex. I felt my pulse quicken, realizing that this time I had no choice. The risk of being seen was twice as great. Greater even. I wasn’t even allowed to duck and hide. I was positioned where I had no choice. I’d be seen if they were looking. The great nympho humiliation pain slut Breanne on display! Whoopdidoo!

“And then when the third car or person goes by, you can put the last vibrator clamp on your clitoris. And once all three clamps are on, then you can cum. After you explode, there on your stool, you can get up, clean the dildo the same way you did the Monster Vibrator, and then get dressed again. Oh. And put the Monster Vibrator back in too. I might want to torment you more today.”

I quivered. I was so aroused. So wet. So horny. There was already a wet spot on the stool. Did she even realize how sexual exciting her punishment really was? She probably did. She probably knew I hated it. I feared it. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to offer her the right to beat my pussy into paste to avoid this punishment. And here I was, already bouncing, waves of pleasure surging through me as the pressure mounted. And I didn’t even have a clamp on and my eyes went down to the muscle cream and the alligator clamps…

I blinked. Oh shit. “Julie? What if I accidentally cum before I’m wearing all three clamps?” I blurted out.

“Oohhh. Figured it out, did ya?” She cooed. “Well see, you really don’t want to do that. Because if you cum before you have all of the vibrating clamps on, then any you do have on get taken off, and you get to sit there and bounce more, putting on the alligator clamps instead, but starting over.”

The difference between the vibrator clamps and the alligators were monumental. The vibrator clamps pinched tightly, sure. But with rubber padded pincers. The alligator clamps sounded exactly like what they were: rows of sharp metal teeth that would dig painfully into my nipples, hurting and titillating me.

“And if you don’t cum before the fourth person passes, after you start wearing the alligator clamps, you can start hanging the vibrating clamps off the alligators. That should motivate you not to cum!” 

“Oh my God,” I whispered in horror. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Julie chuckled. “Of course you can. You’re a fuck slut. You just have to wait for someone to drive or walk by. How long can it possibly take? Ten minutes? Twenty?”

I looked out the window with mixed emotions. I didn’t want to see anyone, and yet… now… I did. My stomach turned inside and out and I felt like I might throw up. Except, I was still bouncing and that felt good. I whimpered, not sure if I should cry or moan.

“This is bad,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “Bad, bad, bad, bad…”

Julie, who must also have had her phone on speaker, hummed to herself a little while I sat there, my pussy clenching and releasing, even as I worked myself into the frothing panic I was trying to avoid. Which, as luck would have it, was when a man shambled out into the parking lot, just ten feet away from my window. 

He wasn’t looking back at my apartment. He was clearly heading to his car, or truck, or whatever other wheeled conveyance he eventually went to. I have no idea. Hell, for all I know he waved a towel in the air, stuck out his thumb, and got picked up by aliens. I know what you’re thinking. How the hell could she not know where he went? Breanne was sitting on a stool, impaled with ten inches of solid rubber, her legs spread wide. 

Well, even I am surprised with how fast I managed to get down off that stool. 

In hindsight, had I not been so totally fucking out of my mind, I might have just frozen. Ridden it out. Instead I squealed like a stuck pig, ripped the dildo out of my cunt via my dive off the stool, and even managed to unseat the suction cup. With my back pressed to the wall, I jammed my fist into my mouth, horrified at the thought of being seen, but also from what I’d done. And while I stood there quivering, all I could help thinking was “Jesus Christ, there’s a lot of pussy juice on the stool.”

Yeah. Not one of my more brilliant moments. 

“Breanne?” Julie said in concern. “Bre? Are you alright? What happened?” 

“Uhhh…. Nothing!” I blurted out, the panic now switching from being seen to the knowledge that Julie was going to flip out when she discovered what I’d just done. I bit my lip and peeked out the window. The guy was gone. Vanished. I swallowed hard, trying to catch my breath. 

“Nothing?” Julie said suspiciously. “Why does it sound like you’re closer to the phone? What happened? Did someone walk by?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The words just ran through my head over and over as I began to realize that I was well and truly fucked.

“Julie,” I said bleakly. “I’m… I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” The words came out weak and watery and I admit, I might have been near tears. “I saw him and I just moved. It wasn’t even conscious decision.” 

There was a long moment of silence. “Wait. Someone walked by and you hid?” She asked, incredulous. 

“I’m sorry!” I blubbered.

For a moment, I could tell that Julie was speechless. I bit my lip and glanced out the window again. No one was there.

“Well, this certainly changes things,” Julie said softly, almost wonderingly. “Let me think for a moment.”

I stood there as a trickle of pussy juice slid down my thigh. Part of me was wondering what the hell happened to the wonderful dildo. 

“Alright, get out your stilettoes and your ankle cuffs,” Julie said. 

I glanced at the phone. “What? Wait. Please. I don’t need those!” I babbled. 

“Oh yes you do!” She assured me. “You will take the shoes and the bondage cuffs back to the chair. You will sit on the dildo like a good little fuck slut, and then you will put on both items. And bring a set of clover clamps on a chain, so that you can connect the cuffs through the chair legs.

I crumpled. At least emotionally. I felt like crying. I stepped to my left and entered my closet. The shoes were right there on the rack, but I had to reach up to get my toybox down from the top shelf. I grabbed the clover clamps and the bondage cuffs and took everything back over to the stool. I checked the parking lot with a hopeless, forlorn expression, and then set the dildo back upright. It made an interesting sucking sound as it smeared my own girl goo around on the seat. 

“I’m… I’m sitting down now,” I told Julie. 

She let out an exasperated snort. “If you were behaving, you’d still be impaled, bouncing vigorously, with a vibrating clamp hanging off your tit. But fine. Tell me how it feels.”

I licked my lips as I slid myself back down onto the solid rubber shaft. “Fine. I mean, good. It’s full. I mean… I’m full.” I could almost picture her rolling her eyes.

“Put on the shoes,” she retorted. 

I’d set the shoes on the windowsill while I’d gotten on the stool, so I leaned forward. My pussy had almost instantly adjusted to being stuffed from top to bottom again and was already squeezing the cock hard. I didn’t even realize I was bouncing, ever so slightly, until I tried to buckle the straps on the first high heel. 

It took some concentration, which helped steady my nerves, and by the time I was appropriately shod, I’d managed to push the panicked thoughts of being exposed a little further behind me. The long, six inch heels caught on the rungs and even without the bondage cuffs on my ankles, I figured that just untangling my feet would take an additional two or three seconds. I buckled on the leather cuffs though, just in case, and then drew up both feet high enough to clip the clover clamps to the metal loops. I ran the chain through the legs at the same time. So spread open, secured, and entangled, I was now right where Julie wanted me. 

Exposed and vulnerable. Getting up would mean falling on my ass, probably bringing the stool toppling down on top of me.

“Well, you know what this means, don’t you?” Julie said brightly, as if she had just found the silver lining. 

I groaned, bouncing. Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“You’ve earned yourself another punishment! Which I will be sure to inflict upon you tomorrow!” 

I closed my eyes. “Can I put the vibrator clamp on now?” I asked softly.

Julie snorted. “No. You’ll wait for someone else to walk or drive by like I fucking told you in the first place.” She paused, clearly thinking. “But you know what? I think some additional punishment is in order. Get the muscle cream and rub a nice big dollop into your left nipple.”

That cold knot of lead formed in my stomach again. I reached forward, grabbed the tube of muscle cream off the windowsill and squeezed a half-teaspoon’s worth onto my finger. I let out a whimper. I knew what was coming, and it wasn’t going to be me. Maybe. Probably. I didn’t know. I pressed the cold cream to my breast and began rubbing my nipple.

It felt good. My skin puckered from the coolness of the unguent and in seconds my nipple hardened into a definitive point. The scent of menthol hit me like a brick and I covered my entire areola with the stuff. My finger was still heavily coated, but I didn’t want to smear more across my breast. Or put it anywhere else for that matter. Besides, I suspected my other nipple was about to get a similar dose, so why clean up?

Of course, the general coolness of the cream gave way to the icy tingle that came from the menthol. I tried to steady my breathing, but the heat began to build just a minute later and I let out a thready whine as my boob suddenly felt like I’d dipped it in a hot fryer. 

“Now the other tit,” Julie said sternly. 

I put a little bit more of the cream on my finger and dabbed the white goo all over my other nipple. In seconds I went from bouncing to squirming as my bosom began to burn. I held my hand up in the air. 

“Unnnggghhhh,” I whined, only to wrap an arm across my chest. It felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to each breast! I reached down and wiped my finger on my calf. It started burning too. 

“I hope you are regretting your little act of instinct,” Julie said in a more conversational tone as I suffered. “Now, from here on we are back on plan. You will sit there, suffering and bouncing, without being allowed to cum, until you have put all the clamps on. And should you cum before being properly clamped, you’ll do it all again, except this time with the vibrating clamps being held onto your nipples and clit with the alligator clamps. Do you understand?”

“Yes Mistress,” I whimpered. 

“Good. Now, Mike wants to take me out onto the back porch and fuck me while I’m bent over the patio table. And frankly, hearing you suffer has turned me on, so I’m about to head out there and do the naughty. And I’m going to cum, hopefully long before you do, and maybe even multiple times.” She smirked. I could hear it in her voice. “So, what I want you to do is call me back when you’ve got all the clamps on and you’re ready to cum. Got it?”

I didn’t know what else to say. “Yes, Mistress,” I said. 

“Hope it hurts! Enjoy!” And then she hung up.

The burn of the muscle cream had almost faded when the next car drove by. I was desperate by that point and when I clipped the vibrator clamp to my right nipple and turned it on, the resulting surge of pure sexual energy flashed through me like a fire in dry grass. I gasped, humping the seat, pounding myself on the dildo before I even thought about the consequences. 

A dozen minutes passed and I spent them in agonized frustration. My lower half couldn’t keep still, twitching and bouncing, all while my pussy tried to throttle the dildo. My aching thighs seemed to demand one of two things, to close and be relieved of the strain, or to be forced open even further, exposing my stuffed slit for additional abuse. I was fidgeting badly when the second car passed my window. The driver didn’t even look in my direction and I grabbed the second vibrator clamp so fast I almost dropped it. The rubber padded vice went on just as easily as the first, except now both nipples were being constantly stimulated, and that sensation seemed to just amplify the pleasure of my stuffed pussy. I sat there, going up and down, my eyes on the parking lot, both dreading and hoping. But with every passing minute I got closer and closer and closer to orgasm and eventually I was clenching my fists, lips pressed tightly together, trying to hold off. My toes curled in the stupid high heels as I tensed my calves. My pussy was locked around the dildo and I was trying desperately not to move. I just needed one more… one more person to walk by, or a car to drive by! 

I closed my eyes, trying not picture Julie, with her cute little ass up in the air, squealing as the massive bulk of her finance moved behind her, shoving his thick cock deep into her tiny cunt. I could see her in my head, squirming like a bug stuck to a card, getting fucked over the patio table. The six foot high fence would provide sufficient privacy and no one would be able to see her naked body, or how her toes curled when she came. Her eyes would cross as her tongue flopped out, pleasure streaming from her every pore. Fuck. I was so fucking jealous of what she was getting that…

My eyes snapped open. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But somehow I knew. There was a man standing there in the window, eyes wide, mouth open, shocked. He was staring in at me, totally awestruck. I froze, my heart racing, panic flashing from the tips of my toes to my aching, vibrating nipples. I sat there, my eyes on his face. I couldn’t take it. My hand shook as I reached for the windowsill, fingers questing for the last vibrating clamp resting there. But it was too late. My body trembled violently as the orgasm blasted through me, wrought from pressure and humiliation, from exposure and being seen. I cried out, eyes closing, shaking as the utter embarrassment of the situation turbo charged my pleasure. I exploded wetly, my cum squirting out from around the ten-inch long suction dildo. Slowly, my heart slowed and when I opened my eyes, the young man was holding up his phone, videoing me. I blushed crimson and turned my face away, hiding. He cocked his head to the side and gave me a concerned look, but then he smiled. He pointed to his chest, nodding. Then he gave me a thumbs up. I sat there, glancing back at him, and he waved. Then I watched him walk away. I didn’t know what to do. Had I cum at the right time? Did it count? I just didn’t know!

I grabbed the phone, dialing my mistress and Julie answered. “Hello… princess… how… are… you… doing?” She panted, breathing hard. I blinked. Was she still getting fucked?

“I came,” I exclaimed. “I didn’t mean too! I mean, this guy! He was just there! Staring at me! And I reached for the clamp, but I came before I could get it on my clit. And he videotaped me!” The words rushed out in a panic and didn’t seem to want to stop.

“Breanne,” Julie said. “Breanne! Slow down! Bre! Shut the fuck up!” 

I went quiet. 

“Are you… still on… the stool?” She asked, the cadence of her question so totally wrong, and so totally right.

“Yes,” I replied curtly, still on the verge of apoplexy.  

“Are you… wearing all… three clamps?” 

I grit my teeth. That fucking bitch was still getting fucked! I took a deep breath. “No.”

“Then you know… what you… have to… do baby. Three more… cars. Or people. And enjoy… the alligator clamps!” Then the line went dead. 

I stared at the phone. Oh. My. Fucking. God. Slowly I reached up. I took the vibrating clamps from my breasts, turning them off. I set them on the windowsill and looked out. How could I be so stupid? How could I have let this happen? How could…

A car drove by. The driver didn’t look. 

I closed my eyes. I was sitting on a stool naked, legs spread wide to either side of the slippery, soaked seat, impaled on a ten inch dildo. My feet were bound in place and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. At least, not yet. I took a deep breath.

“Fine,” I muttered. “You want me to do this? You want me to hurt? You want me to cum? You want me to expose myself?” I grabbed the alligator clamp and one of the vibrating clamps. The toothed monstrosity went on first, biting into the tender, still tingling tip of my left breast. The vibrating clamp hung from it, shaking hard. I whimpered. I didn’t need to bounce, but I did it anyway, the twisting, chewing vice on my nipple wiggling. It hurt. Oh yes. It hurt. And my slit tightened up, quivering and squeezing the dildo. I waited. Almost ten minutes. Another car. Another clamp. More vibration. And I started to get close. I needed to cum again. It was too much. Pressure and need and desperation and mortification and humiliation and what would I do if that video made it onto the internet?

I called Julie. She was done and no longer in the middle of being fucked. 

“What’s up, princess? Are you still riding that thing? It’s been thirty minutes!” 

“I’m… I’m… I can’t,” I managed to say. “It’s too… I can’t wait. I can’t stop it!” 

“Stop it? Stop what?” 

“I’m… so close!” I panted. “But… no one’s driving by! Or walking! Or around! I’ve waited! And Waited! And… I’m just one short! And I don’t think…”

“Breanne!” Julie half shouted. I went silent. “Breanne,” she said simply. “Put the last alligator clamp on your clit. Attach the vibrating clamp. And cum.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Really?” I gasped. 

“Really,” she said softly.

Tears came to my eyes. “Thank you! Thank you, Julie! Thank you!” I blubbered. My hand trembled as it reached for the jumbo alligator clamp, and even the knowledge that it was going to hurt like the dickens didn’t stop me. I lifted it and was just about to put it on when Julie spoke again.

“Enjoy this orgasm though,” she said wickedly. “Because you know what this means, don’t you?” 

I let the alligator clamp close down on my clit, a frightening surge of sexual pain that shot up through my pussy and rattled around my head. I began bouncing, hard and fast and the clamps on my nipples jiggled and throbbed and buzzed. Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Yes. FUCK! I threw my head back and jammed my fingers into my mouth to muffle the cry as I exploded. 

“You’ve earned yourself a second punishment for tomorrow,” Julie said in soft satisfaction. 

As far as Breanne's sexual appetites go, having the attention of two mistresses can't be bad. But constantly pushed, by both her own needs and those of her dommes, only drive home just how seductive the submissive lifestyle is for this bi-sexual, South Texas girl. Nothing seems extreme for her! Told from Breanne's perspective, her self-deprecating humor and snarky attitude earns her constant punishment, even as her body craves it. Her sexual escapades continue in this 20th installment of "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut!" Available RIGHT NOW in both e-book and print! Buy it NOW!