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At the urging of her fans, Breanne is going back through her old computer files, taking a long second (or even third) look at some of the incomplete tales from her early years of writing. She complained bitterly about the quality, but after getting told she could completely rewrite them if necessary, as long as she kept true to the original, her fans would appreciate getting to see those "lost tales".
Michael Alexander Stories is pleased to present a new short story library "Breanne's Lost Tales" where we will be posting each of these old "assignments" that never saw the light of day. To start, enjoy "Serendipity," from the fall of 2012.
09/17/2012
It was a hot morning. The south Texas sun was already beating down and I’d been at it for hours. Working a farm, especially all by yourself, is not an easy job and I was sweaty, uncomfortable, and maybe just a little grumpy. And that’s when I felt the buzz.
I mean, a different buzz.
The new vibration was still coming from the tight blue denim shorts I was wearing, but unlike the old buzz, which had been going pretty much since I’d headed out to the barn that morning, this new sensation was coming from my back pocket. With a sigh of frustration I put down both buckets, shucked the work gloves off my hands, and pulled my cellphone out.
“Hello?” I said into my phone. I may have sounded a bit tense, because I was. In fact, not moving around made it worse. The buzzing I mean.
“Hey, Bre,” a male voice said and I stifled a groan. I recognized the voice. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the guy on the other end of the line. In fact, I adored him. But a phone call right at this particular moment was not going to end up well for me.
“Hello, Zack,” I replied. “How is my favorite fraternity president this year?”
There was laughter on the line. “I didn’t get the president slot, Bre. But I’m treasurer, which suits me better anyway.”
Zack was a member (and I guess treasurer) of a fraternity associated with one of Houston’s colleges. Specifically, my old alma mater. He and I had been friends for several years, despite the fact I’d graduated years before he’d gotten his bachelorette. Now he was working on his graduate degree in engineering and was even a teaching assistant. But more importantly, he was someone who knew my dirty little secrets.
“So how is my favorite nympho humiliation pain slut today?”
I felt a spasm ripple through my loins as he said it, which was very much related to the old buzz I was still feeling. “Zack, I’m the only nympho humiliation pain slut you know,” I retorted.
“Still my favorite. Are you following nympho humiliation pain slut rule number one?”
Rule number one. Both the best and worst rule in the fucking world. I almost groaned. I snorted. “Of course I am.”
He grunted in disappointment. “Damn. I keep hoping you’ll screw up or something and I’ll get to punish you,” he admitted.
“Is that what you want to do?” I asked. “Punish me?”
He laughed. “In a very sexual, orgasmic manner,” he replied assuredly.
It was my turn to laugh. “Then you don’t need me to screw up to punish me,” I declared. “Just do it.”
“So what’s the toy of the day?”
I sighed. “You could just check my twitter feed, Zack.” I said grumpily. Posting whatever diabolical torment toy happened to be stuffed in my soft, wet little box was a daily requirement. Kari called it “marketing”. I called it sadistic.
There was a pause and I was positive he was checking his iPad. Zack doesn’t go anywhere without it.
“Ahh… no wonder you sound tense. Double vibroballs on low.”
Which was a fair description of the old buzz. I’d slipped the two, golf-ball sized spheres into my pussy that morning, right after I’d woken up. And then turned them on. Had I asked the engineer on the other end of the line, he would have described their function rather simply. A pink colored controller, which was tucked into my right front pocket, contained two double A batteries, the energy of which, when activated, flowed down an equally bright and pink wire, which disappeared up the leg hole of my jean shorts, ending in a very private, soaked, and sexually explicit spot. At the end of the wires were the two previously mentioned spheres. Each ball contained a powerful motor capped with an offset weight, which caused the plastic housing to experience slippage, creating an oscillation wave.
In other words, it vibrated. A lot. Even set to low.
“Right on,” I said, shifting my hips.
“So have you cum?”
I shook my head. That was almost entirely part of the problem. On low, the vibroballs weren’t quite enough to push me over the edge, leaving me in a sort of sexual purgatory. Horny as hell, but not quite able to get to heaven. “No,” I replied sourly. “Not supposed to.” Which was why I hadn’t turned them up. On high I think I would have popped in about two minutes.
“Consequences?”
I kicked at the bucket near my right foot. “Oh,” I grumped. “The usual. Clothespin on my clit and a set of nympho humiliation pain slut pushups.”
Which Zack would be able to picture in his mind rather easily. It involved me stripping naked, attaching a wooden peg to my swollen, wet, sensitive clitoris, tossing a black rubber mat studded with tacks on the floor, prickly side up, and positioning my dangling breasts right above the sharp little tips. They stuck out of the mat just enough to leave little red dots all over my breasts, but not enough to puncture skin. Of course, a NHPS Pushup also meant lifting my hands off the ground, putting my entire weight on my tits.
“Plus the vibroballs have to go up a level,” I said. Which of course meant that I’d be that much more likely to lose control again, resulting in another set of NHPS pushups, and the vibroballs getting set to high. For the rest of the freaking day. More unauthorized orgasms. More pushups. More sexual torment. And more orgasms. It was a vicious cycle.
“Well that sounds absolutely delightful. For the duration of our conversation, I’d like you to turn the vibroballs to full power.”
I gulped, but frankly, I’d been expecting exactly that order. And I had to follow it. That was also one of the Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rules. Specifically Number Two, which specified that a girl like me had to be ready and able to endure a painful punishment/torture at any time, for anyone, for any reason. Or maybe Zack’s command was more about Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule Number Three. A NHPS is not allowed to refuse to perform a sexual act that is within her prescribed limits. Turning up the vibroballs was definitely not a violation of my limits.
I quivered a little, but then tugged the blocky pink box remote out of my pocket. A quick slide of my thumb along the control wheel changed the vibrations between my legs from a dull gentle purr into a powerful, throttling race engine. I gasped a little, then tightened my thighs together. And now I was on a timer.
“Okay, it’s up,” I said in a squeaky, high pitched voice as the waves of sexual pleasure began slicing through me. Already I was having trouble controlling my hips. I felt the twitches starting. I kicked the bucket again, then began to walk in a circle. Maybe movement would take away some of the edge.
“Great,” replied Zack. “Well the reason I called is because it's pledge week.”
I froze. I mean, the vibroballs didn’t. They kept rumbling and shaking in my pussy like a bowl of gelatin on a table getting kicked by a two year old. But the rest of me? Yeah. I froze. But actually, it was that time of year again. And I’d been available for pledge week the previous fall.
“Oh,” I gulped. “Um… okay.”
“Are you available on Friday evening?”
I had to think about that. I was a pretty popular little fuck slut. Between Kari, Julie, Zack, Nick, and a host of other occasional individuals who all liked tormenting, torturing, tickling, and teasing their favorite little nympho humiliation pain slut, I had a pretty busy schedule. Except… I was free on Friday evening.
“Um… yes,” I replied. And now my pussy really did tighten. Going to the fraternity house was always an adventure. I’d be the only girl in an entire building full of young, sexually healthy men, all of whom had absolutely no qualms about doing perverted things to a completely willing, totally fucked up girl who liked her sex rough, intense, and more than a little uncomfortable.
“Demerits?” I asked.
Zack laughed. “Of course.”
I realized my hips were pumping now. The vibroballs were dancing and swirling in my sex and I could feel the fresh surge of wetness. If this phone call didn’t end in the next twenty seconds, I was fucked.
“Okay,” I said, groaning again. I twisted my hips as I struggled to control myself. It was only partially working.
“Cool,” he replied. “Do you want to spend the night?”
I bit my lip as the sexual pressure inside me reached the boiling point. “In your room?” I panted. Snuggling up to Zack was never a bad thing. The guy was handsome as fuck, with sandy blonde to brown hair, usually a little messy, and a thin, ropy frame. He was also very strong. I closed my eyes. Imagining him naked, poised above me, his cock about to go right into my pussy, was not what I needed right then, standing in the barn, my pussy shaking violently, on the cusp of orgasm.
“Well, that depends on you,” he replied. “Doesn’t it?”
I gasped the words, instantly discerning his meaning. “No cumming?” And as I did, my right hand went down to my crotch. I spread my thighs and began pressing hard above my clit, rubbing myself through the denim. There was nothing I could do. The orgasm finally crested and I cried out in pleasure, right into the phone as I exploded wetly. My limbs jerked wildly for a moment and then I collapsed onto a nearby bale of hay, vision blurry, the buzzing between my legs still going strong. I groaned in rapture as the mixture of endorphins and adrenaline kept me sky high. The perfect buzz.
“Breanne?” Zack said softly.
“Yeah?” I replied dreamily.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Mmmmmmm,” was all I could respond with.
“Good. Keep the vibroballs on full power while you’re doing your Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut pushups. Then you can turn them to medium. At least until you cum again. And I hope you enjoy pressing those huge, amazing tits of yours against the tack mat.”
“Mmmmmmm, okay,” I said as he hung up, still stunned, still shaking, and unsurprisingly, still wet, wanton, and aroused. Finally I sat up, blinked, and with a sigh, went to find my tack mat.
It was going to be a very long, painful, orgasm-filled day.
Awesome.
.
***
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