Deserving Why

 

I am not generally predisposed to panic, but I had to admit... the wait was killing me. 

I was sitting at my desk, the glass wall of the atrium separating Kari's office suite from the building's main lobby, and all things considered, I was pretty damn sure that my fight or flight reflex was close to being triggered. My eyes flitted nervously between the screen of my laptop computer and the broad expanse visible from my little corner, and when movement caught my eye, I stiffened in alarm, expecting to see golden locks and Kari's fiery glare.

It was just Mr. Johnson, the CPA from upstairs. He hadn't exactly lost any weight by choosing to use the stairs, which ended right next to my fishbowl like wall, rather than the elevator, but I told myself it was still good for him. Of course, the real reason he was using the stairs was because it gave him the opportunity to walk past my office, glancing in to see Kari's personal assistant, slash secretary, slash nympho humiliation pain slut.

And at that particular moment, I was definitely doing the latter. 

It all started at my toes, which were quite visible, thanks to the black six inch heel stilettos I was wearing. These were a new set, with a disturbingly wide band around my ankle. Kari had taken the shoes to someone, (I had no idea who) and had them add a pair of thick silver metal rings to each shoe, creating for all intents and purposes, a pair of bondage cuff high heels. They were awful too, and I'm not just talking about having to walk in them. Everyone who saw them thought one thing: here is a girl who likes having her legs tied open. 

But as usual, the shoes were just the start.

Around my right ankle, plainly visible to Mr. Charles Johnson, CPA, were a pair of scarlet colored, lace panties. Thong style, not that anyone could really tell, considering they were hanging from my leg, draped over my shoe just under the "bondage cuff" part. The panties were as red as my hair and for the same reason. To attract as much attention as possible. The location of my underwear was another flag stating that I was an insatiable fuck slut with control problems.

But Charles' eyes didn't stop there. I could feel his gaze slide up my smooth legs, delving into the shadow beneath my desktop. Kari had arranged for the center partition to be removed, giving passersby an opportunity to look right up my skirt. Any normal secretary would have been sitting with her knees tightly pressed together, her calf length pencil skirt stymying any prurient glances. But per Kari's orders, I wasn't permitted such an option. I wasn't wearing a pencil skirt, and the short, black, elastic mini I was wearing had rolled up my thighs to a disturbingly inappropriate height thanks to the fact that my legs were spread to the sides of my chair. Which meant that Charles undoubtedly was catching a glimpse of my bare pussy. 

Granted, it wasn't like Kari had installed a light under the desk. Nor did the vibrator have LED lights. (God forbid. I've seen those Japanese bondage videos with those strange, tentacle like dildo vibes with spinning lights and wriggling appendages. Could you imagine? Brrrr!) But considering the way my hips were grinding, gently fucking myself as I bounced on the thick, rumbling rod, trying very hard not to cum, there was little doubt that Charles could see my state. Wet, pink petals that matched my flushed cheeks.

Wait. There's more.

Yes, I was trembling from the strain, from the pressure, from the utter humiliation, but those oscillations weren't all about my impending orgasm, nor were they simply ricocheting waves caused by the vibrator. In fact, the damn thing was set to its lowest level, shaking only enough to keep me insanely aroused, instead of dragging me to the cliffs of orgasm and shoving me, screaming, off the edge. Admittedly, it was my nervous system short circuiting, the adrenaline screaming through me as I waited for Kari to appear, that caused the tiny bells to ring. I could see Charles smile as he took in the dangling chimes hanging from the clover clamps. Sure, the clamps themselves were hidden beneath the simple, valance-like curtain that covered my breasts, but it was thin enough, gauzy enough, that the silver metal tightly gripping each barbell pierced nipple was obvious beneath the peasant blouse. A simple elastic band at the top kept the material in place and the silver bells rang like a clarion with each sexual spasm. 

Charles slowed, his eyes really appreciating my predicament, and possibly some underboob.

I was also wearing a choker, something that Kari had gifted me a few weeks before. It was black, to match my shoes and skirt, and consisted of a leather band the width of my finger. A silver ring, matching the ones on the ankle bands of my new shoes, hung from the front, resting perfectly in the hollow of my throat. Kari called it a choker, but make no mistake, it was a collar, plain and simple. Part of me thinks I should be grateful it didn't have a nametag on it, or worse. 

And then there were the earrings. Two big silver hoops dangled from my ears. I'm not normally a giant earring girl, but Kari had requested these specifically, and since she'd bought them for me, I felt honorbound to acquiesce to her demands. Besides, they went well with the black eyeliner I'd put on, complimenting the heavy mascara and the dark red lipstick. 

Charles came to a stop, glanced back over his shoulder, and then, apparently sure of himself, pushed the glass door of Kari's Interior Design Office open, and stuck his head in.

"Hi Breanne!" He said cheerfully. "You look absolutely fantastic!"

Since my pussy had tightened rather dramatically around the vibrator, I gave him a chagrined smile, undoubtedly communicating my tension.

"Thank you?" I replied breathlessly. 

Charles continued to admire me. "What's it set at?" He asked, obviously wanting to humiliate me further. But now I was sure he'd spotted the base of the vibrator sticking out from between my exposed folds. I swallowed, trying not to twitch my hips, which would have been even more embarrassing.

"Low," I replied with a low pitched, throaty moan. 

He whistled and shook his head. "Wow. What did you do?"

My eyes widened and the color on my cheeks deepened, even as the pitch of my voice rose into stratospheric levels. "What do you mean?" I squeaked, absolutely sure he'd figured things out.

Charles let out a laugh. "Breanne, clearly you're being punished. It's been awhile since I've seen you in an outfit this revealing, and you're practically vibrating."

I swallowed. "I am vibrating," I muttered ruefully, my voice returning to normal. I glanced down at my desk, the bells hanging from my breasts still ringing softly. And not because I was breathing. 

"I sort of disobeyed her," I admitted softly. I closed my eyes. "It was an accident. Well, not really. Sort of. I mean I didn't think about it. I just did it and..."

A new voice interrupted my confession. 

"Good morning, Charles. Here to request an estimate?" 

My eyes snapped open. Standing behind Mr. Johnson was a golden haired goddess. She was wearing a green colored suit that was tailored to her tall but thin frame, with an ivory colored blouse beneath the jacket. Gold glittered at her ears and throat and hand, her matched jewelry glimmering in the light. Her shoes were sexy, svelte and looked expensive because they were. While the cost of my outfit boarded on maybe fifty bucks total, her entire ensemble probably bordered two grand. 

Charles let out a laugh as he eased himself out of the doorway, but he was gentlemanly enough to hold the door open for my boss, best friend, lover, and sadistic, humiliating mistress. She smiled warmly at him as he shook his head.

"I'm afraid I can't afford you Ms. Anders," he said cheerfully. "I was actually complimenting Breanne on her outfit." He gave Kari a knowing wink. "It's clear she's disappointed you lately."

Kari laughed. "It's not a disappointment. Merely a consequence. Breanne's behavior is something of a fixed constant in most situations. She was given a choice. An opportunity to exercise self-control and resist her nature or give into her depravity."

Charles nodded. "And she chose the latter. What a surprise." 

I frowned. "Hey, I'm right here." It came out a little snarky. And trembling.

Kari looked down at me. "Of course you, dear heart. Good morning. Are you ready for your punishment?"

I blinked. I thought I was being punished. My mouth dropped open and I stared at her in shock. Charles coughed, which I think was meant to cover up a laugh, and he started to back up. 

"Well, I have to go crunch numbers, but if there is anything I can do to help you discipline Breanne, by all means please send her up. I don't have any appointments today so I'm totally available," he assured my mistress.

Kari nodded with a smug smile. "I appreciate that. If the need arises, I'll be sure to send her up." 

Charles laughed. "Oh, it's 'arised'," he assured her, the innuendo obvious. He gave me a little wave. "Hope to see more of you later," he said. I blinked.

"I'm practically naked now," I blurted out. Charles winked.

"I know." Then he turned and walked toward the stairs, letting the glass door close, leaving me with the monster. Kari stepped over to my desk, her eyes going over me just like Charles' had. I shuddered, once again suppressing the urge to run. Or cum. I'm not sure which.

"You look stunning," Kari said, leaning over. Her long hair brushed against my shoulders and I turned my head. The kiss was soft and sweet and my pussy tightened again as the lavender scent of her perfume filled my nose. She inhaled too and the strawberry and vanilla perfume I wore undoubtedly made her mouth water. Kari is of the opinion that submissive girls should always smell like something sweet.

And edible. 

"Give me five minutes," she said, straightening. "You will sit here and continue to suffer. I'll let you know when I'm ready."

I gulped. "Kari? Can I cum?" I asked.

Her eyebrow went up. "Of course not," she said immediately. "The vibrator is on low, correct?" 

I nodded roughly. "Yes, but..."

She waved her hand. "Then you should have no trouble resisting. Even an hour of vibration at that level should be manageable by a submissive with your experience. I expect you to be sufficiently aroused for your punishment."

I bit my lip. She left out the fact that my nipples were throbbing gently in the bite of the clamps, or the fact that I could feel the tension in my thighs from keeping my legs open, or the humiliating outfit I had been ordered to wear, or the red lace panties hanging from my right ankle like a flag, humiliating me. I almost died right there. "What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.

Kari smiled, and it wasn't a warm, loving smile. It was the wicked, evil, sadistic monster smile, the kind of smile you get from someone contemplating awful, horrible things. She leaned back over to me, lifting and extending her hand. Her finger curled and I felt her nail against my throat. She pushed through the ring and pulled, which caused me to shift, which made the vibrator move inside me. I gasped, my fingers tightening on the armrests of the chair.

"You remember what got you into trouble?" She said softly, teasingly.

I gulped, nodding. "My clit..." I floundered just a bit. "But Kari... that wasn't my..."

She let go and I dropped back into the seat, which meant the vibrator jammed deeper into my cunt. The sensation caused me to groan, interrupting my protest. 

"Five minutes," she warned me, then turned and walked down the hall. I didn't look back. I focused inward, on my fluttering pussy, on my pulsing nipples, and on not running. 

Punishment

"Breanne," Kari called out from her office. "Please come with me to the conference room."

I was still pretty much in the same state as I'd been when she'd arrived, and I reached down to my right foot and grabbed my panties. It took me a moment to thread my left shoe through the thong and I tried to ignore the possibility that someone else would be walking past the front of the office as I drew the lace up my legs. During the last five minutes three more people from upstairs had taken the stairs, each of them looking in, wondering what revealing, slutty outfit I'd be wearing. All of them gawked at my clearly clamped breasts, the short mini skirt that exposed my pussy, the choker, and matching bondage shoes. It had almost been enough to push me over the edge.

But I'd managed to hold off. Now my nervous system was a mess and I was afraid it wouldn't take much to push me over the abyss. Would that upset Kari? 

I stood up, the panties catching the vibrator as it tried to slide out of me and pulled the thong into place. Fortunately the atrium was empty and I tugged down my skirt a moment later, concealing my loins and the bright red lace cupping my pussy. The distended base of the vibrator was just a tad bit obvious. I made sure the peasant blouse was covering my tits, which was always a problem since there was no bottom elastic to make sure the material stayed in place, and I turned slowly. Kari had evidently preceded me because she wasn't in her office. I walked carefully down the hall, partly because I was wearing stupid shoes, and partly because walking was making the vibrator shift and move inside me.

Which was not good. At least from a "don't cum" standpoint.

I passed the small kitchenette on the right. I could smell Kari's coffee, which is why I presumed she needed five minutes. On the left was her art room, or design room, as she had taken to calling it, and I saw that it too, was empty. I got to the conference room door and looked in. Kari was standing at the edge of the large mahogany table, a leather mat laid out, on which were a number of items. I came to a halt, eyes widening, and I admit that I almost turned tail right then and there. Kari looked up.

"Come in. Close the door, and remove your panties."

For a second, I almost broke. It was like I intuitively knew what was about to happen. I'd been bad. Thoughtless. Selfish. Disobedient. Now I was going to pay for it. Would I cum? Yes. Probably. But would it hurt? 

Absolutely. 

I stepped into the conference room and shut the door. And that was that. There was no escape. No options. I was in the lioness' den and was hers. I pulled my skirt up, exposing my stuffed, panticlad pussy and began pushing the lace right back down. 

"What about the vibrator?" I asked softly, meekly. I suppose a part of me hoped that acting the obedient and sweet submissive might earn me a little mercy. 

"Take it out. Turn it off. Clean it." The amusement and utter desire in her voice made it clear that mercy was probably not an option. I grabbed hold of the vibe as it slid out of my sex, coated with almost an hour's worth of girl goo. As my panties fell to my ankles, I twisted the base of the toy, shutting off the motor inside, and I brought it up to my mouth. The tangy sweet taste of my own sexual arousal danced on my tongue as I stepped out of the thong and I made a wet show of sucking the vibe clean, even going so far as to demonstrate my deepthroating capability, on the off chance it would impress Kari and she might be inclined to go easier on me. 

As if.

I held out the vibrator and she took it, setting it down on the leather pad. I felt a moment's trepidation as my eyes crossed the other items, but then Kari's body blocked my view and she pointed toward one of the leather executive chairs. "Sit," she ordered, "and put your legs over the armrests."

That was not exactly a surprise. Kari had a preference for me being seated, spread open and exposed, especially when she intended to stimulate, torment, and punish my clitoris. The Velcro straps on the leather pad made it clear I was going to be bound. I sat down, leaning back as I lifted my legs. The miniskirt rolled upward and did nothing to cover my loins as the chair tilted back. 

"Hands on your knees," Kari said as she brought the straps over. I complied and a moment later I was tied to the chair, unable to move my arms, or close my legs. My feet dangled in the air. Admittedly, I probably looked insanely sexy, or at least wantonly slutty, and I could tell Kari was drinking it like I was some sort of elixir. I wiggled my toes and tested the bonds. My wrists were tightly constrained against my legs. I could have probably gotten free with some serious work, but the bondage was more than enough to keep me relatively immobile while being pussy whipped. 

Which I knew was coming next, because Kari had picked up the leather sap. She studied the small leather paddle as she pulled up another chair and sat down, moving between my outstretched legs. I tensed, bracing myself for the coming stroke. Was it going to be one of the light kisses that would sparkle and tingle across my sex, inciting me to orgasm? Would it be one of the burning, searing blows that would make me grind my teeth and close my eyes, hissing with pain, only to have this mind-blowing heat flush through my sex, pushing me toward climax? Or would it be a blistering spank that made me yelp in shocked agony, the pain so overwhelming that tears would form and the bells hanging from my clamped nipples would ring violently as my body trembled? 

Kari set the paddle on my pussy and began stroking me with it, as if the leather was a paintbrush and my sex the canvas. No hitting. No pain. Just the smooth surface and rough edge petting my pussy, brushing at my clit. I gasped, quivering, and that caress was so much more intense than the vibrator had been. My toes curled and I thrust upward toward her. I felt my eyes rolling upward as intense, direct pleasure, all focused clitorally, rushed through me and from a metaphorical standpoint, I rushed toward the cliffs of orgasm, ready to throw myself off the edge.

But Kari Anders is a virtuoso, a skilled mistress of her instrument. And like any artist with extensive experience, knew the limits to which she could play. As I shook with pressure, practically on the edge, poised to hurl myself into orgasmic ecstasy, she raised the sap above my pussy and brought it down with such force that I had no choice but to jerk violently. I let out a sharp cry, agony exploding up from between my legs and in less than a second I was blinking back the tears. The fact that Kari went back to gently stroking my clitoris and petals meant nothing as the blistering pain left me reeling. 

Ow. 

My feet kicked, not because I was trying to stop her, or hurt her, or defend myself, but because I couldn't do anything else. My wrists were bound to my legs, which were strapped to the chair, and the excess energy needed to go somewhere. My ass came up off the leather seat, my pussy leaving a dark, wet smear of juice, and squealed through clenched teeth. The hurt started to fade, leaving me with the sensation of the paddle stroking my pussy, the edge brushing at my clit over and over. 

"You," Kari said, just a tad bit breathlessly, "are a very bad girl." 

I nodded, somewhat frantically, in agreement. "I'm sorry!" I managed blubber. My hips thrust forward and I realized she'd switched me again. From pain to pleasure and I was now hurtling back up the fucking mountain, heading straight for the cliffs of orgasm for another round of "let's not jump, shall we?" I moaned, whimpering as my clit tingled and I could feel my empty pussy quivering, desperate for something to grab onto. Kari sensed that and she slid two fingers of her left hand into my grasping little slit. I cried out again, this time in pure, animalistic lust, throwing my head back, racing for the edge.

Which is why I didn't see the next blow coming. 

She pulled her fingers out just as the sap slammed down on the soft folds of my sex, smashing my clitoris downward. I jerked, feet once again twisting in the air, toes curled tight as the pain lashed upward through my body. In my imagination, I was yanked away from the edge like a child who had wandered too close to the abyss, about to fall, and I tensed, arching my back, thrusting my hips upward, giving Kari an even better view of my poor pussy. The sap began stroking me again but the pain of the second stroke still hurt too much for me to handle. I choked back the wail and shuddered uncontrollably as Kari once more switched gears and sent me down a very different track. 

"I have to admit," Kari said matter of factly, "that I'm glad they haven't leased the suite upstairs yet. Otherwise, I'd have been forced to gag you." 

I managed to open my eyes, the ringing of the bells quite loud as I panted and trembled. I gave her a look that probably spoke volumes, because her response was to stop stroking my pussy with the paddle. She lifted it up, gave me a wicked grin, and then slammed it down again. The spank was vicious and stung and I went through the same set of convulsions as before. Then her fingers were inside me, swirling and pumping and curling, and to my utter discombobulation, her head dipped down and I felt her mouth on my clit, her tongue licking and stabbing the tender, sore, swollen nub of my clit. 

At that particular moment, I both loved and hated her. 

As you can imagine, it was a quick trip back up to the edge. My whimpering need surged and Kari lapped at my sex with a diabolical hunger. In hindsight, I wasn't sure if she was sating her own urges, or just doing something to me she knew would create sexual imbalance. Either way, I was totally wrapped up in the flurry of sensations, the dichotomy of pain and pleasure, agony and ecstasy. I wanted to cum.

She needed to hit me again. 

"Please," I whimpered. "More," I managed to stammer. I wanted one or the other. Kari let out an amused laugh. Her fingers inside me twisted, the pumping sensation increasing. How she knew where I was, the distance between me and satisfaction, I had no idea, but she denied it to me once more. The spank burned and I jerked as my pussy was flattened, mashed flat by the blade of the paddle. My jaw clenched as my eyes shut with silent agony and I could barely hold myself together. The chair creaked as my legs and arms pulled on the straps. 

Her mouth came back down, even before the stinging had turned to heat, and even that caress felt like knives cutting at me. I let out another wail and felt my loins shudder, the familiar overload of my nerves cutting at me, leaving me raw. My fingers tightened into fists and if she'd asked me a question, I'd have responded with gibberish, unable to articulate beyond the guttural as she controlled my physical responses. The hurt faded again, replaced with the softness of her tongue, the intense sexual pleasure streaming up channels that had just been seared with agony. I reeled from the mix, my brain starting to short-circuit from the back-and-forth clusterfuck of sensations. Kari sucked my clit into her mouth, drawing it almost fully in and a wave of acute pleasure, so intense and powerful shot through me, that I found myself back on the fucking edge of the cliff, about to fall.

Somehow, Kari knew. She let go and the sap slapped down with hard, wet cracks. A flurry of strokes pounded into my sex and my mind snapped. Rational thought, which was already pretty much gone anyway, was replaced with pure instinct, misfiring neurons, and sensorial overload. Too much too quick. Part of my mental sink was still swirling with “gee, that feels freaking amazing, I think I’ll just go ahead and have myself an orgasm,” while the other part was screaming, “oh my fucking god, that fucking hurts, oh my god, get away!”

I was unable to react, and I froze in a sort of trembling stasis. Kari kept whipping my pussy with the sap, the wet muddy sound of the flat, smooth letter beating out a caustic, burning tempo on my slit filling my ears. The manic look on Kari’s face made it clear how much she was enjoying it and I collapsed into a semi-catatonic state, rolling between “mmmmmh” and “oowwwww.” 

But Kari wasn’t the only fucked up person at this party. While she is a dedicate sadist who gets her jollies from sexually hurting her personal assistant, I’m just as much a masochist. I don’t like being hurt, but in moments of clarity, I recognize that having pain applied to certain parts of my anatomy serves as a sort of aphrodisiac, a sort of squirt of nitro in my otherwise standard unleaded engine. Being humiliated, tied open, exposed, teased, and then tormented, was exactly the sort of thing that turned my normal aroused state into hyper-sexuality. It supercharged me, intensifying my response to a point where everything gelled and became clear. Pain and pleasure were just different ends of the same thing and I wanted… no, needed… to experience the whole. So as I slipped into the fugue my body responded in a different way, no longer retreating from the edge as Kari continued to blister my pussy with the paddle, beating and smacking me with short, sharp, fast strokes. Instead I surged up against the heat, the sting, the hurt, mostly because my brain was no longer registering it like that. I took in the sensation, the overwhelming stimulation, and changed course. I hurtled toward the cliff. Fast. Violently. I was running pell mell. I was going to jump. Leap. Hurl myself into the abyss of sexual climax, cumming with a scream and a gush. 

The reason though, that Kari is, and will probably always be, my mistress, is because she recognized that moment. The second my psyche twisted, that the pain became pleasure and vice versa, she did the unthinkable. She pulled back, removing her fingers and the sap from the equation. She didn’t inflict pain. She didn’t provide me pleasure. Instead, she did nothing, inflicting the worst possible torture on my fucked up mind and body possible. 

For a second, I just thrashed on the chair, hips pumping frantically, toes curling as my ankles twisted around in circles. I could hear the creak of the metal frame and plastic of the seat as I struggled against the inevitable. My pumping heart and labored breathing got me within an inch of the edge, but like always, she did it again, keeping me from achieving climax. I burst out into a desperate sob, fire racing through my veins as pure and utter lush, wanton need, and burning desire rushed through my veins. Tears poured down my cheeks as Kari turned away, putting the sap down on the leather pad. She looked back at me and waited, watching as I calmed down, regaining a sense of composure, and backing away from the edge. When my breathing had slowed down enough so that the bells hanging from my clamped tits were no longer ringing constantly, she turned back to the leather pad, hand extended.

It took me a moment to realize what she picked up and even longer for me to gain enough mental traction to recognize the threat. The tube was plastic and white and she unscrewed the tiny cap easily. Her fist tightened, squeezing a tiny dot of the pearly cream out of the container and she scooped it up easily with a forefinger. I shrank back away from her as her hand got close, shifting in the seat, the panic I’d felt earlier coming back in droves.

“No! Please! No! Please don’t Kari!” I blubbered, still crying. “PLEASE! NO! PLEASE DON’T!” 

But it was too late. She touched just my clit, smearing the coldhot cream over and around my clit with a petting motion. That felt… amazing of course. And it hurt. But then the chemical reaction started and I felt an icy tingle. 

Kari leaned back and wiped her finger off on my instep, almost slipping it underneath to my arch. I sort of ignored that, mostly because my clitoris, which had been licked, sucked on, and beaten mercilessly, was now prickling with what felt like cold. Retrospectively, I know that isn’t the case, but I would have sworn that Kari was pressing the edge of a particularly sharp ice shard against my sex, perhaps even rubbing my clit with it. I whimpered, more from the intensity of the sensation than from arousal. Or maybe it was because I knew what was coming. Or not cumming. Sure enough, the icy feeling began to fade, replaced by a growing heat. The fact that it was centered on just one, well tormented little piece of me, just made it all the worse and in less than a minute, Kari was watching as beads of perspiration appeared on my forehead as I grimaced in pain. 

It fucking burned. 

She reached back to the leather pad. “I hope,” she said softly as she picked up the alligator clamp, “that you will have second thoughts about disobeying my instructions.” She held up the clamp. A small chain had been attached at the bottom, and below that, a plastic tube only a few inches long. She twisted the pendant and it started shaking. Even more than I was. I let out a choked sob as Kari bent closer, pinching open the clamp. The metal teeth, even dulled, looked wickedly sharp and I squealed as they closed down on my clitoral hood, biting my burning, beaten clitoris, chewing viciously as the vibrations travelled up the chain and into my clit. Kari tapped the pendant and it fell perfectly into my slit, like a hot dog sausage in a long bun and I gasped. Suddenly, the burning pain didn’t seem quite so bad. 

I heard the tearing sound of the Velcro straps and felt the pressure on my wrists and legs lighten. I blinked, burning and wanting, buzzing and desperate, and stared at Kari as she pulled away. I realized I was free. It was over. 

But it wasn’t. 

“You will return to your desk,” Kari ordered briskly. She picked up the vibrator from off the table, the one that I’d licked clean just ten minutes before. “You will put this back in, set to low. Your panties need to be around one ankle, and you will sit, with your legs spread.” Her eyes flickered down to my chest. “The clamps stay on as well,” she said with a smile. 

I shuddered, bringing my arms up as I lifted my legs off the armrests of the chair. My limbs felt wooden, and I could feel the pressure between my thighs building at an alarming rate. My clit still burned, hot and wet. It hurt too. And it felt amazing. I bit my lip, confused and desperate. 

“One last thing,” Kari said, suddenly leaning forward. Her hand came up and she grabbed hold of one of the clamps on my breasts, tugging hard. I squealed and came toward her, agony lancing through my tit. “This time, you better not cum.”

“What?” I bleated, eyes widening with panic as my fingers closed around her wrist. She gave the clamp a slight twist and a fresh shard of pain shot through my nipple.

“Don’t cum. That’s an order.” 

Then she let go and stood up. I collapsed back into the chair, sprawled with my legs spread, clit still on fire, the pendant vibrator back between my petals, tits exposed as the peasant blouse rumpled, face flushed and stupid bell clamps ringing. She made it to the door before I managed to reply.

“But Kari!” I struggled to get upright as she slowed and looked back. “I’m desperate! I’m so close. I won’t be able to hold off!” It came out in a rush and I watched as my boss, best friend, lover, and sadistic mistress smiled. When she spoke, it came out softly, cheerfully. 

“I know,” she agreed. 

I sat there, twitching, flummoxed, my clit still burning and crushed and vibrating and the idea of sliding the vibrator back into my pussy and going to my desk almost sank me right there.

“But… but… why?” I whispered.

Kari smiled. “Why did I beat your clit, freeze and burn it, then clamp you? Why torment you to the point of insanity? Why send you back to the lobby, wanton and desperate and hurting? Why make you sit there with your legs spread wide, stuffed with a vibrator, clamps hanging from your nipples and clit? Why have you dressed like a cheap whore with those bondage shoes? Why put a collar around your neck? Why keep you on display in the most awkward and humiliating way possible?” 

I nodded, speechless.

“You know why,” she said softly. She gave me a wink as she left the room. “Happy cumming.” 

 *** 

Slowly I rose. I grabbed the vibrator and slid it into my sex, groaning softly. It was hard to function because my entire mindset was on one thing. I turned the vibe on and whimpered as I struggled to draw my panties up. I managed, but the vibe kept sliding out, forcing me to catch it and put it back in. The bells rang constantly as I moved, the throbbing pulse at the tips of my breasts harsh and intense. My clit still burned, though it wasn’t as bad as before, and I finally shuffled out of the conference room, down the hall. I didn’t look into Kari’s office. I didn’t want to see her smirk, her desire, her absolute knowledge in my predictability. 

I found my desk and with a worried look, checked the atrium, just in case anyone was out there, waiting to see what the nympho humiliation pain slut would do next. My panties hooked on my thumbs slid down to my knees as I sat, and the vibrator jammed up against the leather seat. It took only a moment for the red lace to once again settle around my ankles and I stepped out of one side, my flag of humiliation flying. I spread my legs to either side of the chair, knowing that my stuffed slit was on display, should anyone walk by. The bells clinging to my nipples moved constantly, both because of my labored breathing, and the tremors shooting through my tormented body. I shuddered, unable to focus, unable to stop the sensations, unable to cope with the pressure. My fingers tightened on the arm rests of my chair and I trembled.

I walked up to the edge of the cliff. Darkness loomed in front of me, the orgasmic bliss of satisfaction. Part of me screamed, “don’t do it! You know she wants you to! She’ll use it as an excuse and you’ll be there again, legs spread, her sap beating your pussy!” But the other part of me hummed in excitement at the thought and I didn’t even hesitate. I jumped off the edge, cumming hard. 

I blinked, a wet, gooey mess on the chair between my thighs. The residual euphoria of the powerful climax left my thoughts a clunky, unmovable blur. I let out a laugh. Oh my God. Slowly I closed my legs and reached down, turning off the vibrator. I wrapped my arms around myself and just sat there, breathing, the bells still ringing softly. Until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up to Kari smiling down at me.

“Feel better?” She asked brightly.

I grinned. “I feel amazing.” 

“Good,” she said, totally sincerely. “Now go to the conference room. Same as before.”

That… that was enough. My sluggish thoughts began to move and a thrill of excitement, or trepidation, or just plain want, slid through me. 

“Yes Mistress,” I said. 

Because I deserved another blistering punishment.