Michael Alexander Stories is pleased to announce the coming release of Breanne Erickson's latest novel: Sexcapades of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut, Volume 2. The second in her newest series, chronicling her seemingly never-ending adventures of bondage, discipline, sadism, and masochism. Available for pre-order, Sexcapades of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 2 will be out for release on Thanksgiving 2022!
Here is just ONE "juicy" excerpt!
Lucille sighed and stood up. “Jennifer, I’m afraid that Breanne, for a change, is in no condition to endure another punishment. I’m going to have Beth draw her a bath and then let her soak until it is time for her to go home, which is in about an hour and twenty minutes.”
Jennifer looked crestfallen. “But… she disobeyed you.”
Suddenly Beth looked up. “Mistress? There is one torment… I mean punishment… that you could inflict on Bre, right now.”
Lucille looked down at Beth. Then Lucille nodded. “I suppose under these conditions,” she mused. Then she nodded. “Very well.”
Beth rose immediately and Jennifer grinned. “Can I help?” She asked.
“As a matter of fact, you can.” Lucille went over to the coffee table, picked up the remnants of tea, and deposited the entire thing on the nearby sideboard. “If you’ll help me get her on the table?”
I didn’t resist, mostly because I was still out of it, as the two women grabbed me by the wrists and ankles and hauled me up. They only had two or three feet to go and suddenly I was on my back, staring up at a crystal chandelier, the hard surface of the oval table beneath me. I groaned and Lucille produced two lengths of chain, handing one to Jennifer. “Right wrist to left ankle please.”
My arms were pulled outward and bent at the elbow, so my hands were under the table. Then my legs were spread obscenely wide, cum dripping down and pooling on the wood. I groaned as my feet were pulled up, my knees bent, my heels touching the underside of the table.
Bound and helpless.
Lucille tucked a tiny pillow under my head and then Beth showed back up, holding not one, or two wireless massagers in her hands. But three. Lucille took two, handed one to Jennifer, and then nodded at her guest. “You may do the honors.”
“Mmmm…wwai…” I managed to mumble, but before I could articulate my thoughts, Jennifer switched on the massager to full power, sat down on the couch, leaned over, and pressed the buzzing, shaking rubber tip right against my swollen, sore, distended clitoris.
I let out a garbled shriek, my head coming up, but then Beth pressed her wand against my left breast. Lucille joined in and my already overloaded body, sensitized and raw and barely functional, interpreted the new stimulation like I was being cut with glass.
Wait. Did I say “cut”? I meant fucked. Fucked with sharp, broken glass.
I’m not a stranger to forced orgasm. I’ve been fucked non-stop for hours in slow, sensuous bliss. I’ve been run through my paces, cumming over and over in a whirlwind of pleasure. I’ve even been brought to orgasm after a hard orgasm. But the torment of the birdcage, after the clamps of the morning, the pussy whipping I’d endured, not to mention the torments of the previous two days, had left my sex stinging. And with the vibrator on full power, I pulled on my bonds, feeling the wrist and ankle cuffs tighten around my limbs, unable to stop, I began thrashing back and forth. It made it hard for Mistress Lucille and Bethany, but Jennifer had no problem keeping her buzzing toy on my pussy as I went frantically nuts. My toes curled and I arched my back, yelling helplessly as the three women pushed me right back up the fucking mountain, tormenting me wildly, only to force me to the edge and push.
“PLEASE! PLEASE! I CAN’T!” I cried out.
“Nonsense,” Mistress Lucille said, “of course you can.” Then she turned the vibroballs back on.
And I screamed.
Jennifer gasped as my cum bubbled out over the end of the bulb and I realized that she’d actually jammed it into my pussy, forcing my petals wide apart. It wasn't deep. Not like a dildo, but it was more than enough. She laughed delightedly as I turned to jelly, hips jerking, once more lost and almost unconscious. She pulled the massager away as I began whimpering, eyes unfocused, a bit of drool dripping from my mouth.
“No,” Lucille said, pointing.
Jennifer gave her a quizzical look. “No, what?” She asked.
“Don’t stop.”
Jennifer’s mouth fell open. “What? Again?”
Lucille nodded. “Again. It’s the definition of forced orgasm.”
For a second Jennifer considered this. “I still want her whipped,” she said firmly.
Lucille nodded. “I will make arrangements to drop by the Crossfire site tomorrow as part of my regular inspection. I’d like to look over the grounds anyway. While I’m doing that, you may, with Beth’s assistance, give Bre that whipping.”
“Really?” asked Jennifer with excitement. “Where?”
“You have an office at Crossfire, right?” Lucille asked.
“I meant, where on her body?” Jennifer said, pointing down at me. “Where will I be able to hit her?”
Lucille blinked. Then she laughed. “Oh. Anywhere you’d like, but if you need a specific target…” She pointed.
Jennifer jammed the massager back between my legs, the rumbling bulb pressed to my poor, brutalized, over-sensitized clit. I screeched again, jerking, back arching as my toes curled and my fingers tightened into fists. I thrashed back and forth, overwhelmed, my pussy on fire, and freezing, and tightening, and burning. It felt good and bad and hot and cold and wet and dry. My blood began boiling and I heard a thumping under the table as my heels kicked hard against the wood.
