I sat at my desk, trying to focus on my writing, and doing a relatively poor job of it. Outside, rain was pouring down, turning the parking lot of my apartment complex into something resembling a nearby bayou rather than a broad expanse of concrete. I had the lights off, a weak and feeble attempt on my part in trying to reduce the number of additional distractions, allowing the weak and gray illumination of the day to create looming shadows. I wasn’t terribly sure it was working, but I knew one thing for certain.
It was all Julie’s fault.
As usual I was barefoot. In my mind it represented a certain level of vulnerability, of a delicate dependency on others. Not wearing shoes, not even having the right to wear shoes, bespoke a certain submissiveness. Being barefoot was also more comfortable than the rotating nightmare of high heels that I wore to work. You try prancing around in six inch heels or teetering about on platforms meant for a stripper stage and see what I mean. You’ll be going around barefoot too.
But my lack of shoes had absolutely nothing to do with the distraction I was dealing with. In fact, my shorts were much more involved. They were made of denim and were so tight that I was surprised that the circulation to my legs hadn’t been cut off. The crotch was tighter than painted on latex and created a constant and annoying wedgie, crawling up not only my ass, but literally digging into my pussy. The heavy stitched seam had spread my sex uncomfortably open under the material and was seemingly tried to fuck me. But if I was being honest, the tight shorts were only an additive. The real problem was beneath them.
And it was buzzing. But we’ll get to that in a moment.
That morning, Julie’s “toy of the day” email had been a little different. Normally it consists of specific instructions to remove whatever sex toy I’d had stuffed in my pussy overnight, and to replace it with some other filling, vibrating, tormenting object designed to keep me mentally disposed toward smuttiness, which might as well be defined as being physically wet and ready to be thrown over a bench, followed by a brutal fucking.
But not that morning. Sure, I’d removed the silent, egg-shaped vibrator and instead of filling my wanton and grasping little cunt, Julie had instructed me to clamp my clitoris with my vibrating pendant and to turn it on.
For a girl who is used to keeping things jammed up inside her, this is not exactly comfortable. My pussy sometimes seems to have a mind of its own, and when I’m aroused and just a little desperate, not having something deep inside my sex makes me cranky. And just a touch bitter. To make matters worse, the clamp on my clitoris was rather tight, squeezing my nub strongly. The vibrations from the pendant not only translated right up the small chain, but also where the pendant itself was resting against my labia. It was the worst sort of torment. Intense, arousing, and totally unsatisfactory. And then later, when Julie called and told me to wear the shorts, the crotch of the material pressed the cylindrical vibrator in between my petals like a hot dog sitting in a bun. I’m sure you can imagine how distracting that was.
Non-stop clitoral stimulation, labia vibrations, a tight wedgie, and a grasping convulsing pussy with nothing in it? That wouldn’t drive a girl over the edge. Would it? And I’m sure you already can guess what Julie had said about me cumming without permission.
I had been forced to stop writing a number of times, shifting my weight back and forth, twitching as the stimulation spiraled through me. But the worst part about it was that it just wasn’t actually enough. I was sitting on a plateau of arousal, hovering without getting anywhere. I was going banana fucking nuts crazy and gotten to the point where I was actively considering disobedience when the phone rang.
“Hello, princess! Are you ready for your punishment?”
I blinked, my hips still working back and forth, trying to find a way to get the damn vibrator pendant inside me. “Uh… I thought I was being punished,” I replied.
Julie laughed. And I mean she was truly amused. It took her almost a minute to regain control of herself. I sat there, still suffering, still wanting to cum. Finally she gasped. “Okay,” she said, still chuckling. “Okay. I’m good! Thank you!”
I frowned. “For what?”
“For being so amusing!” She said simply. Then her voice darkened into something almost wickedly sensual. “And trust me, you’re about to be even more amusing.”
I gulped. It sounded as if she were contemplating a criminal act. It made me squirm, and not in a good way. Still, there was at least a chance that I might be cumming soon, even if meant earning another punishment. And I really needed an orgasm.
“Are your blinds up?” She suddenly asked.
I glanced back over my shoulder to the rainy window. “Yes,” I said, with a sinking feeling. The slats were raised to the top and nothing but falling water blocked the view of my room. She was going to make me strip again. I wondered if she knew about the rain. The chances of anyone driving by and seeing into the darkened interior would be nil. And no one would be walking around in the downpour.
“Are the lights on?”
The leaden weight that frequently appeared in my tummy when dealing with Julie came back. “No,” I said, stifling a groan. It’s like she was fucking psychic or something.
“Well, turn them on. The overhead and the lamp on the nightstand. We want you nicely illuminated for this.”
Slowly I stood up, turning my phone to speaker. I flipped on the overhead light and then shuffled over to the bed, the shorts crawling up my butt crack. The nightstand lamp came on next and I felt my slit quiver as the pendant sort of slid up and down through it, responding to the motion of my thighs. The shorts were tugging the clamp, which was tweaking my clit. I bit my lip, gulping down the little surge of excited discomfort I was feeling. I stepped carefully back to the window with small, short steps. Skipping would not have been a good idea in my condition.
“Lights are on,” I told Julie.
She hummed in satisfaction. “Good. I’m sure you’re in view then, for anyone passing by. Now you’ll need your vibroballs, a pair of clothespins, and that plastic ruler you have. The whippy one.”
That made me hesitate. Vibroballs would be a net positive. The idea of having something… anything… in my pussy was a good one. The clothespins? Yeah, they would hurt a little, but I’m a pain slut. I could handle it. And Julie’s last item? The whippy plastic ruler I owned could make a vicious paddle, but only when wielded by someone who knew what they were doing. I might get instructed to give my bottom a quick spanking or maybe a nice little nipple slapping, but I’ve never been able to hit myself with sufficient strength. Julie knew that. It would be pointless. I went to the desk drawer and got out the vibroballs, the clothespins, and the ruler. I couldn’t help testing the plastic edge on my thumb. It was pink, light, and disturbingly flexible.
“Alright, I have it all,” I told my tormentor.
“Good. Now go to the window and strip out of your clothes.”
I’d known this was coming. Me standing naked at the window was becoming an almost daily occurrence. I winced and stepped up to the glass, touching it lightly with my fingertips. The surface was cold. I took a deep breath and then pulled my tee shirt off. Underneath I was wearing a bra, a simple athletic number that was more elastic than cotton. This came off next, revealing both pierced nipples and fine curves. I tossed the shirt and bra off into the corner and looked out through the falling rain. No one was out there. Thank God.
“Shirt and bra are off. Doing my shorts now,” I said, unsnapping the button. I wriggled back and forth, peeling the denim down over my ass and out from between my buttocks. I sure as heck felt it when the vibrator pendant slipped out of my soaked slit to dangle heavily from my clit. I gasped, trembling slightly as I kicked off the shorts. “I’m naked now,” I moaned.
“How does your pussy feel?” Julie asked sympathetically.
I closed my eyes. “I’m overly wet, a tad bit desperate, and ready to cum. I’m on edge, but the vibrator pendant just doesn’t seem to be enough to push me over the edge.”
“Well, I’m glad,” Julie said firmly. “Why don’t you stuff those vibroballs in, but don’t turn them on yet.”
“Here at the window?”
She chuckled at my reticence. “Would you prefer to do it outside in the rain?”
“Here is fine,” I replied quickly. I grabbed the vibroballs. They were two simple spheres, connected to a remote via a set of wires. Inside each ball was a motor and I knew that with the simple push of my thumb I could send just enough electricity, in tandem, down to each motor, causing the internal shafts to spin. This would cause the offset weight attached to the shaft to wobble as it turned, creating a series of very noticeable oscillations, which would then translate out of the ball itself, into whatever encasement happened to be wrapped around it. Like my soft, wet, quivering with desperation pussy.
I groaned as I pushed both sex toys gently into my cunt, brushing aside the still shaking vibrator pendant. For a moment, that almost was too much to handle and I think Julie heard me.
“You can turn off the vibrator pendant and take it off your clit now,” she said.
I did it quickly and the sigh of relief I let out made it damn clear how I felt. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to cum. And cum hard. And the pendant was part of that. But the freaking toy was about torture, not satisfaction and it just wasn’t enough to push me over the edge. Right to it, but not over. I set the whole thing on the windowsill and took a deep, satisfied breath.
“Now, take the clothespins and the ruler to the bed,” continued Julie. “Lay back, face up, with your pussy facing the window.”
I backed up just a bit and felt the side of the mattress against my legs. I sat down, then leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. The only positive was that I wasn’t able to see the parking lot any more. I realized my heart was starting to pound, not from excitement, but from trepidation, and I realized my hand was trembling.
“I’m ready,” I whispered.
“What?” Julie replied.
“I’m ready!” I blurted out.
“Oh. Good. You can put your feet up on the window sill.”
I lifted my head and then scooted down so that my butt was practically hanging off the side of the bed. I brought my feet up, the bare toes pointed, and braced myself against the bottom of the glass. This was not a good position. Anyone driving by would see me easily, legs spread obscenely wide, with my wet pink slit in perfect view.
“I don’t like this,” I whined softly. Julie ignored me.
“You know where the clothespins go, right?”
I licked my lips and looked up at the ceiling. Even with the rain pounding against the glass, I kept thinking about someone driving by and seeing me. My pussy was gushing, almost convulsing. Was she going to let me cum? She was going to be in some trouble if the answer was no, because as close as I was, I didn’t think there was going to be much I could do to stop it.
I lifted the clothespins and in seconds had them sticking straight up from my breasts, the wooden maws pinched tight on my bosom. It hurt, but it was a good hurt, the kind of hurt you wanted when you were as close as I was. I let out a strained whimper and there was little doubt from the sound of my voice that the pain was welcome. Julie certainly took it as a good sign.
“Now spread your legs as wide as possible, while still keeping your feet on the windowsill. Make sure that anyone outside can see your pussy.”
I closed my eyes as I followed her instructions. I bent my knees so that they were pointed outward, almost in a butterfly position. Then I spread my legs wide. It was an obscene and submissive position, offering up my exposed, stuffed slit. The wire from the vibroballs trailed off over my thigh, and just to get it out of the way, I threaded it under my lifted leg, past my buttock.
“Okay Julie. Can I cum now?” I begged, panting softly.
“What?” She exclaimed in astonishment. “Hell no. You still have to endure your punishment.”
“Punishment?” I said stupidly.
“Hello? How many times did you cum yesterday?”
I thought back. Julie had ordered me to insert the large, egg-shaped vibrator in my sex, and to turn it on for a full minute, at the highest setting, each time she texted me. The fact that she did that every fifteen minutes over the course of eighteen hours was just the icing on the cake. I couldn’t handle it.
“Five,” I said shamefully. “But Julie! It was just too much! I told you that! If you had just…”
“Whatever,” she said, cutting me off. “You came when you weren’t supposed to, so you earned a punishment. Which is what I’m doing to you right now. So can it, Princess.”
My teeth clacked together I shut my jaw so hard.
“Now, here is how this is going to work. You’re going to turn those vibroballs up to full power, and once they’re buzzing nice and loud in your sweet, pretty little cunt, you’re going to take that ruler, and keeping your legs spread and your pussy pointed at the window, give yourself fifty swats, right on the clit.”
“Fifty!” I exclaimed, eyes widening. My fingers tightened around the plastic ruler, my knuckles white.
“Fifty,” Julie repeated. “For each orgasm you had yesterday.”
My mind did the math, which under the circumstances took a little longer than it probably should have. But hey, I was lying naked on my bed, in front of an open window, with the lights on in my room, while a pair of wooden clothespins jiggled painfully on my tits, and my pussy went into overdrive, just because it was appreciative of the two rounded objects I’d pushed into it. And I wasn’t even vibrating yet.
“Two hundred and fifty strokes?” I gasped. “I can’t take that!”
Julie laughed evilly. “Sure, if it were me hitting you. Then maybe I’d give you ten or so strokes per orgasm. And when I was done your pussy would look raw and your clit would be nice and swollen, mashed into a paste.”
I let out a whimper. Not good. Not good at all. My mind raced. Maybe, just maybe I could hit lightly or something. I mean, two hundred and fifty strokes? I reached over and picked up the ruler. Then something else occurred to me. I was close. My legs were spread. And I was about to hit my clit a bunch of times.
That was going to make me cum.
Evidently Julie had the same idea. “Oh, and by the way. You can’t cum until after you’ve delivered the full two hundred and fifty whacks to your pussy. Okay?”
“Julie!”
“No buts. This is your punishment. Now, put the phone down by your ass. I want to hear the sound of the ruler smacking on your slit. I bet it will sound like wet mud.”
I closed my eyes and pushed the phone down the bed toward the edge. I groped for the remote handling the vibroballs and when I found it, I used my thumb to push up the sliding dial. Inside me, both spheres suddenly began doing the shaka dance, rattling against each other and basically doing gymnastics deep in my sex. I tightened violently and energy surged through my body. I didn’t even realize my hand was trembling until I lifted the ruler and slid it between my open thighs. I felt the edge glide across my clit and then down my labia. It took me a moment to really brace myself, both mentally and physically. But then I lifted the ruler about six inches away and started to bring it down.
“Make sure it stings good,” Julie said, interrupting me. I almost screamed. Instead I gritted my teeth, lifted the ruler back up to almost a full ten inches, and then slapped it down between my legs.
*SMACK*
The sound of the flat plastic end of the ruler striking my soaked, stuffed petals rang out clear. “Oh FUCK!” I squealed, my pussy clenching with pain, only to feel the intensity of the vibroballs increase from the pressure. My knees wobbled and a burning sting seemed to explode across my sex and I almost closed my legs. It was like a thousand prickly pins sticking me for a second, but then the burn began to fade into a penetrating heat and the resulting combination of vibrational pleasure and pain was like an aphrodisiac.
Which was bad. Very, very bad.
Julie whistled, obviously impressed. “Wow. I heard that. Nice one!”
I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth. There was no way I could replicate that two hundred and forty-nine more times. I had to scale back. Maybe speed was the way to go. Light and fast. My hand shook as I repositioned the ruler. Not so far away from my pussy this time. And then, as if I were playing a drum, I snapped the flexible plastic down, catching the rebound, and flicking it down again. And again. And again. And…
My buttocks, pussy, legs, and shoulders tightened as my breath caught in my throat. Stinging heat burst in a flush across my sex, but I kept snapping the ruler down, counting in my head as I delivered ten, then fifteen, then twenty strokes, almost non-stop, straight to my own sex. My toes curled as my back arched. I let out a keening moan as the pain began to build, cresting around the thirtieth blow, and I shifted angles. That was a mistake. Now instead of catching my petals, beating the pink folds into a sodden mess, the ruler almost totally caught my clitoris, smashing the delicate nub down flat.
Oops.
My back arched as I cried out, and not in pain. Energy seared through me, exploding up from between my legs to circle around the tip of each breast before it hit my brain. If orgasm was a locamotive, I was in a short dark tunnel, travelling at breakneck speed, and there was a fucking light hurtling straight toward me with a friendly “ChooChoo!” sound behind it. I clenched my teeth, struggling to hold back and I curled into a ball, closing my legs, the ruler digging into both my sex and my thigh. That hurt a little and I embraced it, trying to fight back the approaching orgasm. I had to wait. I had to get the pussy paddling out of the way.
Suddenly I realized that time was as much my enemy as pleasure. I gulped, trying to get a grip, and opened my legs again. I set the ruler above my sex once more, six inches away from my already tingling, burning little nub, and remembered that one time when Julie had borrowed Mistress Savannah’s crop, tied my legs open, and beat my sex into a flaming, soaked mess of girl goo. I’d taken at least a two hundred strokes, none of them very strong by themselves, but they added it up. How had Julie put it? Quantity over quality? I closed my eyes and remembered bracing myself. Enduring. And I began slapping my pussy with the ruler, imagining that it was Julie wielding the crop.
Thirty turned to forty, then fifty, and I know I wasn’t hitting quite as hard this time. Still, the heat blossomed, as if I’d just poured gasoline on a bed full of embers. Pleasure and pain roared back to life, consuming me and I shuddered, gasping and whimpering, moaning and maybe even blubbering a bit. I kept hitting myself though, which when I consider that statement logically, and in hindsight, proves just how totally fucked up I really am.
“That’s it!” Julie encouraged. “Harder! Hit yourself harder!”
Which proves just how totally fucked up she is.
I made it past seventy this time, stopping at seventy-seven with barely enough mental capacity left to repeat the number in my head as my body shook, burned, and twisted through the mix of sensations. I realized that my nipples were throbbing hotly as the clothespins wiggled at the tips of my breasts and the vibrations deep in my sex seemed even stronger than before. I was breathing so heavily that my chest was heaving and my pussy burned. I panted, dragging in hot breaths.
“Don’t stop,” Julie taunted. “Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you if you cum?”
And just like that, the orgasm was there. I let out a scream, slapped the ruler back down against my pussy, and tried to pound the damning wave into submission with my makeshift paddle. Instead, all the strokes did was turbocharge the coming explosion. My pussy convulsed around the vibroballs, squeezing them so tight I’m shocked I didn’t shatter the damn things within my sex. A splatter of juice exploded out of me, straight toward the window, but it all ended up on the bed and carpet. Amazingly, I didn’t curl up into a fetal ball for the orgasm, but spread myself open even more, gasping and thrusting my breasts upward as my back arched. Pure, unadulterated bliss shot through me as the pain and stinging heat morphed, not at my sex, but in my head, changing into… something else. Not pleasure. Not satisfaction. But something deeper. More tangible. It turned my simple climax into a compound structure, reinforced and bracketed, the strength not just doubled or tripled, but increased tenfold, until every muscle of my body was involved, stretched out and rippling with adrenaline.
“Well,” Julie said wryly. “So much for not cumming.”
It took me about a minute to calm down and when I did, I closed up, moaning. I turned onto my side. My pussy stung and my nipples felt like someone had bitten on to them and wouldn’t let go. I groaned.
“Well, you got about half-way,” Julie muttered. “You can turn the vibroballs to low now. Leave the clothespins on for the next half hour, and get dressed again. Yes, in the shorts. I’ll call you this afternoon and you can give yourself the other one hundred and fifty strokes.”
I lay there, listening. It took me a moment to understand her. “Again?” I croaked, half sitting up. “More?”
“No,” Julie snorted. “The rest. And you are such a fucking pain slut! You literally came from spanking your own pussy! Do you have any idea what that means?”
I let out a soft, pain-laced chuckle. “That you’re a sadist?” I regretted the laugh instantly, because it made the clothespins jiggle. Ouch.
“That you are the most amazing, nympho humiliation pain slut ever,” Julie said confidently. “So no cumming for the next four hours, alright? If you get close, turn the vibroballs off for a fifteen minute rest period, then turn them back on. Low setting.”
I sat up and looked down between my legs. My pussy was dripping wet, the petals a brilliant, dark and vivid pink. My clit was swollen, sticking out, and looked like it had just been beaten to a pulp. It was actually purpling a little. The vibrations were also an issue and I grabbed the remote, turning the tremors down to “really nice” rather than “fucking crazy.”
“Julie?” I whispered. “Julie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cum.”
She laughed. “I know, Princess.”
I licked my lips. “But… but aren’t I going to get punished for cumming without permission?” I asked curiously.
And Julie laughed. “Oh sweetie pie. Didn’t you realize it?”
“Realize what?” I asked as I moved to the edge of the bed. The rain was pouring down now and I looked out on the parking lot through the water streaked window. Wetness. Wetness everywhere.
“You’ve earned yourself a punishment for tomorrow,” she said sweetly. “Just one more failure in a long line of them, giving me the right to torture your sweet, fuckable, romantic, desperate little body. Now go suffer for me,” she said. Then the line clicked off with a chirp.
For a moment I sat there, then I felt backward, looking up at the ceiling. The light was on and it hurt my eyes, so I looked away. But I stayed there, just breathing. Being. Simple and soft and…
I felt a twinge. The wrong kind of twinge. The arousal kind. I closed my eyes, mentally cursing myself, my body, and worst of all, my fucking libido. Because for a moment, my knees were already bending, my legs pulling up and then spreading, exposing my stuffed, buzzing slit to anyone dumb enough to be standing out there in the rain. I touched myself, fresh need surging through my loins. I groped and found the object I was looking for. Then I dialed Julie.
“Yes, Princess?” She asked curiously. “Everything okay?”
I held up the item I’d found, that my questing fingers had searched for, and I held it up above my clit. “I’m ready,” I breathed. “Ready for the rest of the strokes.” The ruler hung there, waiting, as my pussy clenched in anticipation.
“What?” Julie exclaimed. “Are you crazy? You just took around a hundred! And I admit, quantity over quality in this case, but you need to give your cunt a break, girl!”
“Julie,” I warned. “I have to confess something.”
“What?”
“If I give myself another spanking with the ruler, right now, I’m pretty sure I’m going to cum again. Hard.”
There was a long pause. “Well then,” she said finally. “I suppose we better find out. Of course, you know you aren’t allowed to cum until you’ve delivered the full two hundred spanks to your cunt, right? That if you do, you’ll earn an extra punishment?”
“Yes,” I breathed, stretching my legs out. My heartrate doubled and I wriggled my hips. My left hand found the remote to the vibroballs and the spheres roared back to full power. Oh. My. Fucking. God.
“Fast and hard then, Bre. Hit as hard as you think I would,” she said. “I want your clit blistered and burning.”
For a moment I held still. My hand trembled and I looked up the metaphorical mountain and knew what was coming.
Me. I was going to be cumming. I knew it. The ruler snapped down, fast and hard, blistering heat and stinging fire shooting through my loins. There was a rushing sound and I heard Julie counting the wet, sharp, smacking cracks, fast. I didn’t care. Not anymore. I thrust my hips upward, moaning loudly, even squealing, only to gasp as my body gave in.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve… come on, Breanne! Harder!”
*SMACK* SMACK* SMACK* SMACK* SMACK* SMACK* SMACK* SMACK* SMACK* SMACK*
“…forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty… come on Bre, you can make it!”
But I couldn’t. I cried out, my body tensing, my nerves afire as I slapped the ruler hard against my clit. My toes curled as my legs shook and I threw my head back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut as waves of utter ecstasy, mixed with pure agony, shot through me. I dropped the ruler, cupping my sex, palm grinding as I pushed and pushed. Then I shuddered and the surge of adrenaline faded, leaving me a shattered and broken shell, hurting and aching and swept up in the sweet euphoria of sexual climax.
“Or, maybe you can’t,” Julie said in satisfaction.
I lay there stupidly, a grin on my face.
“Now, as I was saying before. You will turn the vibroballs to low. Put the vibrating pendant back on your clit, and put on the short shorts again. I’ll call you this afternoon and we can try those last one hundred and twenty-eight again.”
“Huh uh,” I agreed dumbly, my brain still only operating on “fucked stupid” mode. I stared out the window, through the rain, feeling really, really, really good. Except, you know, where I was sore.
“And Breanne, don’t think this was a freebie. You were supposed to hold out. And we both know what that means.”
I laughed, softly and crazily. Maybe it was the quarantine. Maybe it was the virus. Maybe it was just me going soft in the head. Or maybe… just maybe… it was because this was me. Because I knew what it all meant. And I wanted it.
“I’ve earned another punishment,” I declared softly.
Julie sighed happily. “Yes, you have. I’ll call you later.”
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