I kept driving, knowing that each exquisitely maintained property probably had a Bentley or Porsche parked in the garage and I did my best to ignore the scenery. At least I tried to. It wasn’t easy. The architecture was interesting, and a couple of the houses had turrets. And guard towers. Or at least, faux guard towers. I shook my head in amusement, part of me snickering at the ridiculousness of adding a stone lined guard house to a mansion, another part of me admitting that it was kind of cool. The map on my phone directed me down another side street. Each house was marked with the address number on gorgeous brick mailboxes, and I located my destination, slowing down as I took the turn into the long, straight drive. The house was still a distance away and I proceeded down to the detached garage, not wanting my vehicle to be in the way later. I didn’t want to create problems.
“You have arrived at your destination,” the sweet, feminine voice of the artificial intelligence program said as if I hadn’t already figured it out. I sighed, rolled my hips again as the uncomfortable pressures pushed on my insides, and then put the jeep in park. Rain pattered softly down on the windshield, and I contemplated my next task. Getting to the front door without getting wet, falling, or being seen.
“You’re already wet,” I chided myself as I picked up my phone and checked the temperature. It was seventy-four degrees out, but with the rain it would feel cooler. I pulled the umbrella I’d brought over to my side of the vehicle and tucked my phone away in the bag beside me. I wasn’t going to need it. Not today. Instead, I grabbed two small controllers, both the size of a key fob. Those I would need. Or at least, I’d be required to hand them over. I hesitated just a little. Inside the satchel was a soft gray dress, which I longed to put on, but I knew that doing such a thing would just invite further trouble.
“Go on,” I urged myself quietly, “you said yes. You capitulated. You wanted this.”
But I wasn’t so sure now that I was here. I was taking a big risk and putting myself in a situation that maybe, possibly, I couldn’t handle.
I took a deep breath and palmed the remotes, then steeled myself. I grabbed the door handle and stuck the umbrella out as rain splattered down on my bare leg. I managed to open the umbrella enough to avoid a complete soaking as I climbed out of the vehicle, putting the soles of my new high heels down on the concrete. The heels weren’t that tall, only four inches, but the pumps sported open toes with leather buckles that made it look like I was some sort of female Roman gladiator. I just needed a shield and sword.
Oh, and armor. Definitely armor. Or hell, I’d have settled for a simple tunic. Or a loincloth. Anything.
I shut the door and began walking back toward the street, or more accurately along the west side of the house. I tried to ignore the fact that anyone driving by on the road would see me, but there wasn’t any traffic, and with the houses so far apart, I doubted any of Mistress Lucille’s neighbors would be standing at their living room windows, peeking across acres of manicured lawn, gawking at a nude redhead walking in the rain, holding an umbrella.
I turned on the walk that led up to the front door, trying to suppress the urge to run. It wasn’t easy. Being naked in public tends to do that to me, but the pumps limited my range of options down to “walk carefully,” which meant an even slower gait than had I been barefoot. Maybe I should have carried the shoes with me to the front door, then put them on before ringing the bell?
I shook my head under the umbrella. Oh well, too late now. I turned right again, finally stepping up onto the porch. I had to admire the architecture. Kari had taught me the different styles and Lucille’s place was American Craftsman with some English Tudor highlights, all supersized. The front door was an extra foot wide and made of metal, with leaded glasses obscuring the insides. I felt myself shiver, and it wasn’t because I was wet, though I was. And it wasn’t because of the temperature.
It was because I was clearly insane for coming here, so I rang the bell
I closed my eyes as I waited, counting the seconds in my head. I listened too, ready to dart to the side if I heard the hissing of rubber tires on the wet roadway a hundred feet behind me. I even turned and looked, but there was no traffic. I stood, getting more and more nervous, until I heard the turning of the lock. The door swung open and I saw exactly who I expected.
Except, she was dressed.
“Well, well, well,” Bethany sneered. “If it isn’t little miss fuck slut herself.” She stepped back, clearing the way for my entry.
I closed the umbrella, shaking it out at the same time, and then stepped across the threshold. “Good morning, Bethany. That’s a nice outfit.”
Bethany glared at me. She was a big woman, easily eight inches taller than me, though thanks to her lack of shoes and my high heels, we were closer in height at that moment. Bethany was also older than me by a decade and she was losing her battle of the bulge. I could tell, even with the soft and comfortable blouse she was wearing. It went well with her stretch pants.
It was so weird seeing her clothed.
She held out her hand and pointed. “The umbrella goes there,” she told me, pointing to a three-foot-tall decorative vase sitting next to the door. “And you can give me the remotes.”
I gave her a questioning look, but then decided that it was smarter to capitulate than create further problems. Besides, what was the worst she could do? Turn the vibrators on? I handed her the remotes and then stuck my now folded up umbrella into the big jar next to the door.
Follow me,” she said haughtily. She turned her back and led me deeper into the house.
The place was huge, easily six thousand square feet and sported a kitchen that was about the size of my apartment. There was a den, a living room, an entertainment room with a freaking bar, and multiple bedrooms. And there was a sexual playroom. I know because that’s where Bethany took me.
“She’s here,” Bethany announced as I followed her into the dark, barely lit cave. I’m familiar with the modern, sexual equivalent of a dungeon, but Lucille had gone a little more sinister than I was used to. The walls had been painted matt black and sconce lights had been fitted every few feet, providing only indirect lighting. Custom track lights had been mounted on the fifteen-foot ceiling, with individual spots illuminating some of the more interesting pieces of furniture.
Off in one corner was a full-sized vacu-bed in black, supported on what looked like a foam mattress. There were two different kinds of punishment benches, one with a padded waist support bar raised in the middle, with kneeling and arm rests on either side, while the other bench was a huge thing that looked like an anime version of a wooden horse, except with spots to kneel on either side. It was padded and looked comfortable, except for all the straps that hung off the thing in multiple spots. Of course, Mistress Lucille had a real wooden horse too. It was a vicious-looking with an impressive point and more than enough space to tie the heavy weights sitting nearby to a victim’s ankles. Multiple stands were set in a corner, some capped with dildos, others with calf stirrups. There was even one with a spiked cradle. A stool with a fucking machine underneath it sat off by its own, and a collection of stockades, violin restraints, manacles, bondage cuffs, and other straps were hanging on the wall.
It was like a theme park for BDSM enthusiasts.
And don’t get me started on Mistress Lucille’s collection of canes, switches, whips, floggers, paddles, and strops. Think blacksmith shop meets pervert and you might get a glimmer of an idea. But that’s where it really turned dark. There was a bar clamp big enough for a girl’s entire bosom and the inner sides were lined with sharp studs. There were tack mats, like what Kari frequently used on my breasts, except with much longer spikes. There was a steel bucket full of clothespins and a rolling cart in one corner, on which a transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulator, or TENS unit, sat. It had eight channels and I could see that Lucille had opted for two electrical inserts and three clamps as permanent additions. I could just imagine the clamps on my clit and nipples, with the two electrified dildos jammed up both holes. I’d be screaming. I knew it. And don’t get me started about the selection of massagers, vibrators, dildos, and other battery operated sex toys she had.
Mistress Lucille was standing near a full-sized St. Andrew’s Cross which was leaning back slightly, holding a flogger, and I must admit that I felt a very real shiver of fear ripple through me. She was wearing all black, and fashionably. Her pants were leather, and she was wearing boots. A stylish black blouse lay against her bosom, and she wore a black leather jacket that looked more Prada than Dungeon Mistress. Her brown hair had been cut short and her black eyeliner and heavy red lipstick made her look especially evil.
Bethany held out the two remotes she’d taken from me and handed them to Lucille. The dominatrix slid them into her left jacket pocket. I noted that, but really, I was more focused on the leather cat-o-nine tails in her hand.
Wouldn’t you?
“Hello fuck slut,” Mistress Lucille purred, turning to look at me. “Are you ready for your punishment?” Lucille was also a large woman, though she wasn’t putting on pounds like Bethany. I wondered if Beth’s problem was medical. Regardless, Mistress Lucille’s defining trait was her eyes, both of which were large, brown, and sparkled with cruel mischief. Every time she looked at me, I felt as if she were not just mentally undressing me (which admittedly was unnecessary since I was naked) but also binding me spread-eagled for a brutal pussy whipping.
“Um…” I said in confusion. “I thought we were just going…”
The flogger moved faster than I expected, and to be honest, I was expecting it. The heavy leather strands struck my breasts with a harsh sting, snapping painfully across my entire chest. I gasped, both arms coming up to my bosom, as I stumbled backward into Bethany, nipples tingling from the blow. Then Beth’s hands were on my back, pushing me forward, right back toward Lucille.
“Disappointing,” Lucille said darkly, eyeing the way my arms were now covering my breasts. “Lift your hands above your head.”
I gulped. Slowly, I raised my hands, bracing for the next blow, which came almost immediately. It hurt more too because I think I leaned into it, and maybe Mistress Lucille was hitting harder. This time though, other than yelp and blink a few forming tears from my eyes, I stayed in position and suffered. Fire seemed to lace across my chest, and I panted, closing my eyes in expectation of another stroke.
“Spread your legs as wide as you can,” Lucille said softly. I opened my eyes and spread my feet apart. Lucille had let the flogger hang from her hand down by her waist and I won’t lie. I was expecting it to come up between my knees, lashing at my sex. Part of me wanted that, but another part of me feared it. I braced myself, almost going up on tiptoe as I prepared to hold still. Which is why, when Bethany kneeled behind me and touched my thigh, I let out a tiny cry and jumped.
“Hold still, bitch,” Bethany muttered, her hands strapping some sort of belt or garter around my leg. It was high up, only a few inches below my pussy and I looked down to see her tightening the buckle. I winced. Then I noticed the bulky, boxy thing attached to the belt. Except it wasn’t a belt. It was a collar. A dog collar. Oh my God…
“Is that a shock collar?” I bleated out. I’ve dealt with shock collars before. They’re painful. Very painful. And they’re designed to be like that. Negative reinforcement, right? Be bad. Zap. Ouch. Pain is a very good motivator. I blinked, then I noticed something even more frightening. There was a wire coming out from the box. Two wires in fact. One black, one red. And they led to a plastic duck bill clamp. With metal pincer pads.
“Only the best for a painslut like yourself,” Mistress Lucille said haughtily. “I had this made specially for you, Bre.” Bethany moved around my leg, still on her knees, and caught the dangling clamp. She looked up with a vicious smile.
“This might be a little uncomfortable,” she teased evilly. Then she brought the clamp up to my clit and let it pinch down on my little nub tightly. I let out a gasp. It didn’t technically hurt, but she was right. It was uncomfortable. Then Beth ran her finger down through my slit and I realized I was practically dripping with sexual excitement.
“She’s soaked,” Beth said in disgust, standing up as she wiped her finger dry on my other bare thigh.
Lucille snorted. “Of course, she is. It’s Breanne’s default state.” She put her hand in her jacket pocket and fished out the two remotes Bethany had given her. I licked my lips in expectation as she picked one and turned it on.
Instantly, the vibrating beads I’d inserted into my ass that morning began vibrating and my bottom clenched tightly as I let out a little groan. I’m not a big fan of having anything in my bottom and had Mistress Lucille not made it a requirement for our little soiree, I’d have skipped the back door penetration with enthusiasm. The five spheres of varying size shook and trembled individually; each embedded motor just different enough from the others to create a different oscillation. I clenched tightly and if I had to admit it, it felt… amazing.
Guess I’m starting to get used to anal play. Go figure.
Lucille studied me for a moment, then grinned. “So, this one must be for the vibroballs,” she said wickedly. As her thumb moved, I felt the two motorized spheres in my pussy begin shaking. I gasped, waves of pleasure shooting through my lower half as my pussy tightened dramatically and I thrust my hips involuntarily, my body desperate for sexual satisfaction. Seven different motors, all buzzing around in my insides? Can you blame me? I stood there, legs spread wide, hands still above my head, clit clamped, ass and pussy vibrating wildly, my brain already swirling with need.
“Today you follow my orders without hesitation. Without question. And without commentary. When you are good, this is what you will feel,” Mistress Lucille explained.
My eyes were already going unfocused and my hips were rolling. She must have turned the vibroballs up to full power to get me going this quickly. Or maybe I was just totally aroused by her fun house of BDSM toys. Who knows? But I felt myself shaking. I was going to cum. Soon.
“Failure to comply, or if you question me, or make one of your usual smartass remarks, will result in punishment.”
And just like that, lightning struck my clit.
Pain seared through, or maybe across, my nub and I let out an impressive shriek. I buckled, unable to hold the position I’d been told to adopt and my hands shot down to my groin. If the pain hadn’t been momentary, I’d have ripped the clamp off my clit and fallen to the ground. I’ve been shocked before. If it had been a TENS Unit, I think it would have been a level eight, or maybe a nine. Neither of which I can handle. At least not for long. It hurts too much. I looked up to her, blinking more tears out of my eyes.
“Do you understand?” She asked simply. I nodded emphatically, not trusting myself to speak. She smiled, showing way more teeth than needed and I felt a terrified shiver run through me. “Good. Bethany has today’s outfit for you.”
I blinked. “Today’s outfit?” I asked, somewhat confused. I had expected to get bent over one of those benches and brutally fucked and tortured. Maybe I would be forced to ride Mistress Lucille’s wooden horse, straining and suffering as the hard edge bit into my pussy. Or maybe restrained on the vacu-bed, locked in stasis between the rubber sheets while Lucille inflicted various textural torments to my body through the thin layers of rubber.
Another searing shot of electricity burned its way through my clit and I cried out again. I hadn’t even removed my hands from my cunt and my knees buckled as I squealed. Then the pain was gone, leaving only the buzzing of the vibroballs and the anal beads. Holy shit! I felt a gush of wetness in my hands.
“Turn around and get dressed,” Lucille ordered.
I didn’t hesitate. I whirled. Desperately. Anything to prevent getting shocked again! I drew my hands away from my groin and found Beth holding out a bluish gray sweater. It was a jacket and I had to turn back toward Lucille to put my arms in the sleeves. As soon as it settled, I gasped. It was more a bolero style, with a single fastener just below the hollow of my throat. The front managed to cover my breasts, but barely, leaving a massive amount of bare skin showing. It was incredibly slutty, but stylishly slutty.
“Now the skirt,” Lucille ordered.
I turned back to Bethany who held out a black mini skirt with a rippling paisley pattern. She bent down and I stepped into, letting her pull it up my legs. As it rose, I realized that the paisley parts were made of black gauze. From a distance, it would look pretty, and even designer. But a closer look revealed way more than I’d been expecting. I could see the curves of my inner thighs, and the stupid shock collar, and my clamped clit, the plastic and metal glinting dully. Oh boy…
I turned back around and faced Mistress Lucille. She gave me a quick inspection, then turned and picked something up off the nearby table. She held it out to me and I flinched.
“A collar?” I asked.
Lucille didn’t smile. Instead, her eyes narrowed slightly. “You should always have a collar on. And when you are under my direct control, you will advertise your subservience properly.”
I gulped and nodded. “Yes Mistress.” I reached out and took the smooth, narrow strap of leather and placed it around my throat. Admittedly, it looked like an especially thick choker, rather than a more typical bondage or dog collar, and when I caught sight of my reflection in one of the wall mounted mirrors, I took a moment to admire the image. I looked… sexy as hell. In an overtly slutty manner.
Lucille gave me a satisfied look and smiled. “Now follow.” As she began walking away, I felt the vibrations between my legs slow down, then cease. The anal beads followed suit, leaving my body aching with desperation. I felt my pussy tighten with wet, rhythmic pulses, but ignored it as Lucille walked out the dungeon door.
“Have fun,” Bethany said brightly to Lucille. Then her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “I hope she hurts the fuck out of you,” she hissed. I blew her a kiss.
Whatever.
I then was forced to take a five-mile hike to Mistress Lucille’s garage. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Lucille had a fitness room with two treadmills, a rowing machine, a stair stepper, and a cycle. I guess Bethany didn’t spend a lot of time in there. There were two bedrooms richly decorated, though I could tell it wasn’t a custom job. There was a reading nook. And the kitchen… wow. She had an amazing kitchen with two ovens, a four-burner stove and a grill! Right there in the counter! Granite countertops too. And the refrigerator was a double.
Honestly, I didn’t feel out of place. My exposure to these kinds of residences had increased as I’d gotten more involved in Kari Ander’s Interior Designs, and I wasn’t shocked. Still, the idea of living in a place like this was a little more than my southern Texas cowgirl persona could handle. Finally, we walked through the laundry room, then the mud room, until we got to the garage.
The four-car garage. And it wasn’t even the detached garage I’d parked by.
I spotted Lucille’s Lexus SUV immediately, but I also noticed the Porche. A golf cart was parked in one of the third spots and the last section was empty. I followed Lucille to the Lexus and when she gestured to the passenger side door, I climbed in obediently.
Mistress Lucille was not a talker, but she was kind enough to turn on the heat as she navigated the luxury SUV out of the garage and out into the rain. I needed it because the sweater, with its mostly open front, did very little to keep me warm. But soon enough I felt the warm air caressing the exposed skin between my breasts, flowing down to my abdomen. Lucille turned onto the street and then accelerated, leaving her immediate neighborhood behind. She didn’t speak so I didn’t either.
We had just pulled onto one of the main roads with a much higher traffic volume when she finally said something.
“Unbutton your sweater and expose your tits.”
I blinked, just a little surprised. “Here?” I asked. “Right…”
She must have been ready because the shock that lit my clit on fire came before I’d even finished the question. I let out a screech, rising up in my seat with a gasp as the electricity fried my clitoris, then disappeared.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” She asked eagerly.
“No! No!” I blurted out, my hands darting up to the single fastener. It was a hook and loop closure and I struggled with it for a moment, scared she might zap my pussy again, just for being slow. Finally, I got it open, and I flipped the front of the sweater off my breasts, exposing my hard, pierced nipples. The passenger window was covered in rainwater, but I bit my lip as other cars whizzed past. Then the anal beads began vibrating and I let out a soft moan as I wrapped my arms underneath my breasts.
“Do you really prefer those barbells to the gold rings you used to wear?” Lucille asked in a friendly tone.
I nodded. “The rings look… stupid,” I said to her. “Like a bull with a nose ring. Barbells are way more stylish.”
Lucille glanced at me, eyes smoldering, a look of disgust on her face. Then I realized what she was really asking, so I backpedaled.
“But I miss the ring I had to wear as a submissive of the Society,” I said quietly. “It symbolized something precious to me. I didn’t realize I would miss it so much.”
That seemed to appease her, and I knew it because the vibroballs started up too. On low, but they began shaking in my pussy.
“Play with your nipples. Make sure they are nice and hard,” she said.
I brought my hands up and began touching myself. It wasn’t difficult, but with the anal beads and vibroballs both going inside me, granted at low levels, but going, it wasn’t long before I’d caressed my boobs into forming two hard, pebble-like bumps at the tips. My hips were starting to grind, and I realized I’d stopped caring about who might accidentally see me as we drove along. I let out a soft moan, quivering with sexual stimulation.
“Now, put these on.”
I opened my eyes to see Mistress Lucille holding out a pair of clothespins. I took them immediately, pinching the first one open and setting it on my left breast, right over the hard nipple. It pinched down deliciously. Then I set the other one in place, the wooden pegs sticking out, bouncing with the movement of the car. If Mistress Lucille was trying to get me to cum, she was doing a damn good job of getting me there. My entire body was thrumming with need, the vibrations of the road, the vibroballs, the anal beads, the pinching of my clit and nipples. It was like a tsunami of sensual delight.
“Put your fingers on the ends of each clothespin and push until they’re pointed downward,” Lucille ordered.
I knew that was going to hurt, but it was going to hurt less than getting my clit shocked again. I lifted my hands, lightly placed my fingers on the ends of each peg, then pushed downward. Pain shot through my nipples as I forced the tips of my breasts to bend and fold. I whimpered as shards of agony seemed to explode across my bosom and Lucille smiled.
“Hold and count to ten, then release.”
“One,” I whimpered. “Two… three…” I counted out loud through the rest of the numbers and then gasped as I let go of the clothespins on ten. They snapped back up, pointing straight out and my nipples throbbed angrily. Then then the vibroballs went full power, shaking inside my pussy in a frenzy. I let out a hungry moan and gripped my thighs as I struggled with the sensation. Ten seconds later the vibroballs switched off, leaving only the anal beads buzzing inside me. My bottom clenched tightly and I took a shuddering breath as my racing pulse began to slow down.
Mistress Lucille didn’t say anything else. She concentrated on driving, and I watched as she turned toward the Woodlands. Maybe five minutes passed before she glanced at me again.
“Put your fingers on the clothespins again. This time, push them both toward me.”
“Toward you?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. Then the electricity shot through my clit.
“OWWW!” I squealed. Then the pain stopped. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t arguing! I just wanted clarification!” That earned me another jolt and my hands shot down to my groin, pressing hard as the pain floored me.
“If you don’t bend your nipples and get those clothespins pointed in my direction, you’re going to get a third shock,” Lucille said cruelly.
My hands snapped up to my breasts and this time I didn’t bend the clothespins slowly. I pushed them to the left, twisting my nipples hard. Tears filled my eyes again and I blinked, counting slowly to ten.
“Ten,” I gasped, my breasts hurting. Then I let the clothespins go.
And once again, electricity friend my clitoris. I jerked in the seat, trying to understand what I did wrong.
“I didn’t tell you to hold them there and count. I just told you to hold them there. Now do it again. Properly this time.”
My hands shot up to my breasts and I twisted my nipples again. This time I could feel the tears break free, running down my cheeks. Pain throbbed at the tips of my breasts and I suffered. But only for about ten seconds. She must have been counting.
“Now you can let go of the clothespins.”
I gasped, mewling with pain as the wooden pegs snapped back straight, poking out straight from my chest. Then the vibroballs turned back on. I groaned as pain was replaced with pleasure and the pulses of acute discomfort coming from my tits swirled with the pure bliss coming from my pussy and ass. I groaned and shuddered as my poor brain struggled to make sense of the varying stimulations. It all sort of blended together. I wondered how much more I could take.
“Now push them up, toward your chin,” Mistress Lucille said.
This time, I did exactly what she told me to do.
***
“You may release,” Mistress Lucille said. I gasped in pain and let go of the clothespins. My nipples felt like they’d been ripped off and then reattached and I grimaced as the two wooden pegs twisted back, rotating from the 180 degrees I’d been holding them. The twenty-five minute drive from Lucille’s home to the mall had been agonizing, with moments of torture, followed by sensual pleasure. After I’d bent the clothespins upward to my chin, I’d been stimulated with the vibrations. Then I’d been ordered to push the ends of the clothespins toward my window. Then came another full power vibration session. Finally, just as we entered the parking garage of the mall, she told me to twist both pegs a full 180 degrees.
But at least I hadn’t gotten another shock.
I let out a sob, slumping in the seat of the car as she put the vehicle in park. One hand came up to wipe at my cheek and I shook, crying as I was forced to deal with the throbbing agony at the tips of my breasts. Pain shot up through me and I would have slumped over if not for the fact that Mistress Lucille once again turned on the vibrators inside me, leaving me shaking from more than just the sensorial overload. She got out of the car with her bag, walked around it, and then opened my door.
“Take the clothespins off your tits and button up your sweater.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice, and even with the now pleasurable vibes coming up from my pussy and ass, I moved quickly and with purpose. The clothespins came off and I grimaced as fresh, but welcome pain shot up through my chest. I handed them to her and then brought the front of my sweater back together. I hooked the top, once more utterly conscious of the fact that the knitted material basically only hung to cover my breasts. Then she shut off the vibes again. I let out a groan, shuddering. This on and off thing was getting annoying.
“Get out of the car,” ordered Mistress Lucille.
I complied and avoided another shock, then fell into step beside my tormentor. We’d barely made it twenty steps through the parking garage when a young man appeared, hurrying in our direction. His eyes caught sight of me, or more accurately, my daring outfit, and he almost stumbled. Mistress Lucille glanced at me.
“As he passes, flash him your tits,” she whispered.
Instantly, the conflict within me raged. Part of me was like “hell yeah!” Totally willing and eager. Another part of me however rejected the idea, appalled at the idea of showing some random stranger my bust. As the distance between me and the young man decreased, my brain slowed. I struggled with the decision. I almost panicked. And then he was past me, turning to look at my ass, and it was too late to sweep up the sweater.
*ZAP*
I cried out as the pain shot through my clit and I stumbled. Lucille caught me, keeping me from falling to the ground as I jammed both hands down against my groin.
“When are you going to learn that you must obey me?” Lucille asked.
I struggled to catch my breath. “I’m trying!” I whimpered.
Behind us, the young man stopped. “Is she okay?” He asked. I glanced over my shoulder. There was a look of concern on his face.
“Now,” whispered Lucille. “Do it.”
I gulped. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you,” I said softly as I swept my arm up.
The sweater didn’t need much, and I watched as the young man’s eyeballs practically popped out of his head. His jaw dropped and for a moment he just stared. Then the vibroballs buzzed to life, rewarding me. My pussy clenched down on the two plastic, motor filled spheres and I almost exploded, right then and there.
“That’s enough,” Lucille said, tugging on my arm. I let the sweater fall back down, covering my breasts, and turned away from the young man. Mistress Lucille didn’t give me any time to recover either. She pulled me forward toward the mall entrance, leaving me to cope mentally and physically with the remnants of pain, the sweet vibrating pleasure, and the utter humiliation of flashing my tits to a stranger. A moment later the automatic doors of the mall opened and we walked on through.
Christmas was in full swing and within about ten seconds I knew I was fucked. Well, more fucked than five anal beads and two vibroballs could make me. The place, even at ten in the morning, was crammed full of people trying to get their Christmas shopping done. I wrapped my arms across my chest, one on top of the other, trying to mitigate the exposed, slut look I had going. It didn’t help that Mistress Lucille hadn’t turned off the vibroballs as we continued onward. She let go of my arm and I stumbled along beside her, my pussy quivering as the vibroballs rattled and rolled against each other.
Like most rich women, Lucille is a shopper and she turned into some of the more expensive clothing stores with a comfort that only comes when you don’t really care what the price tag says. I’m more of a blue jeans and flannel shirt sort of girl, at least when I’m not dressed like the star of “Painwhores IV: Spreading them Wide Open.” I followed along like an obedient little dog, trying not let myself get worked up into an orgasm.
It wasn’t easy.
“Stop fidgeting,” Lucille said a few minutes later as we navigated around a clothing rack of blouses that cost about half of my weekly paycheck.
“I’m trying, Mistress. But it’s not easy with the vibroballs going.” I struggled to hold still, but then the anal vibrating beads started up too. I gave her a glare. “That’s not fair!” I protested as my ass clenched tight.
I wasn’t expecting it, but I should have been, and when the dog collar activated, sending voltage right up those wires to the clamp clinging to my clit, I felt the electricity surge across my tender nub as if someone had taken a needle and pushed it through the very same spot. I let out a shriek, knees knocking together as I jerked and then the pain disappeared. It left me with the vibrations and I straightened up, panting heavily.
“Do not talk back to me,” Lucille said with a sneer. “I won’t put up with it like Kari or Julie did.”
I swallowed hard, once more wrapping my arms around myself. “Yes Mistress,” I whispered. My hips rolled, completely out of my control, and I moved behind Lucille. We made it almost to the back of the store before I couldn’t handle it any longer.
“Mistress?” I whispered softly, about thirty seconds out. “Mistress? Can I please cum?” I was begging. And I knew what her answer would be before I’d even asked.
“Of course not,” she snorted. “You haven’t earned that privilege yet.”
Twenty seconds. “Please? What can I do to earn it?” I pleaded. My ass clenched tightly around the beads and my pussy quivered violently. The pressure was so strong, so heavy, that I could barely stand it. Lucille looked thoughtful for a moment.
Fifteen seconds.
“You know what you can do to earn an orgasm?” She asked in a friendly tone.
I shook my head. Ten seconds. “No Mistress. What?” I crooned. So close! So close!
Five seconds. Then her eyes narrowed. Mistress Lucille leaned over to me, her lips near my face. “You can suffer,” she said.
Then the vibrations shut off. In both my bottom and pussy. I let out a wanton groan, frustration writ large upon my face. Lucille gave me a satisfied look and put her hand in her pocket.
*ZAP*
Oh, my fucking god. I managed not to cry out as my body curled inward, pain shooting through my freaking clitoris. For the next few minutes I followed along behind her, scared to even speak, waiting for another shock.
“Breanne, what is your favorite sexual position?” Mistress Lucille suddenly asked.
I blinked. “Um… for sex with guys? Or girls?”
She gave me a feline grin. “For torture.”
I swallowed. “Oh.” I took a deep breath as we moved to another clothing rack. “Um… tied open I think. My legs spread as wide apart as possible.”
“So that your cunt can be properly paddled?”
I blushed crimson. Lucille knew me very well. “Yes Mistress.”
We moved to the next store, and I followed along, my entire body tense. Part of it was because I was still pressurized for orgasm. Sure, not as close as I was a few minutes before, but I could tell my blood was boiling. The other part was I did not want to get shocked again. At all. The pain of each zap was too sudden. Perhaps if I was able to build up to it, like being tormented with the TENS Unit, one level then another, I’d have been more accepting. Still, I felt the oozing moisture seeping out of my stimulated cunt and walked behind Lucille, basically on eggshells, waiting for her next command.
It didn’t take long.
Lucille was looking through a table full of sweaters as I stood next to her. “Do you see the young lady putting clothing away?”
I glanced off to my right. There was a cute, blonde girl, in her lower twenties, who was restocking one of the displays. “Yes mistress,” I replied quietly.
“You will go up to her, introduce yourself, and then offer to lick her pussy in the dressing room.”
I blinked. About a hundred questions rushed through my mind, like “what if she gets upset?” or “what if she says yes?” Instead of asking them, I headed straight toward the clerk. My arms dropped down as I approached, and I was a little surprised to see that she saw me coming and turned toward me instantly.
“Hi,” she said brightly. “Can I help you?” Her name tag said Emily. Blonde and cute, she was about the same height I was, or would have been if I wasn’t wearing four-inch heels compared to her sensible flats. I smiled at her, trying to ignore the fact that there was at least an eight-year difference in ages between us. I put on a wooden smile.
“Umm… my name is Breanne and I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut,” I said softly. “I was wondering if I could lick your pussy.” Her eyes widened and for a moment she just stared at me. Inside I died of mortification. Of course, this girl would reject such a proposal! I was a red-headed fuck slut almost a decade older than her! She’d probably call security.
“In the dressing room,” I added lamely, already wondering if I were about to get myself kicked out of the store. It would serve Mistress Lucille right, but would probably mean I’d get another zap right between the…
Emily gave me a quick nod. “Follow me in thirty seconds. I’ll leave the door open.”
I blinked as she turned away and watched with wide eyes as she walked over to the fitting rooms. She stepped into one and I could hear the zipper of her pants go down.
Well… I’ll be damned. I glanced back at Lucille who nodded and waved me forward. I turned back toward the dressing rooms and as I approached, the anal beads in my bottom started vibrating again. I pulled on the door and stepped in quickly, finding Emily with her pants and panties around one ankle, her legs spread as she sat on the bench, her fingers already rubbing her slit eagerly. She was clean shaven and already more than a little wet.
“Quickly,” she cooed. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
I nodded and dropped to my knees, my hands already going to her thighs. I pressed her open a bit and breathed in her scent. There was vanilla and strawberries and then the musky tang of her need. I stuck my tongue out, touched it to her clit, and heard her gasp. Then my own hesitation faded and a second later I was sucking on her little lollipop like there was no tomorrow, and it was the best thing I’d ever tasted in my freaking life. My finger slipped into her well, sliding in easily and I realized she was just as wet as I was. I swirled my tongue around her clit as she put her hand on my head, entangling her fingers in my dyed, red hair. I let go of her clit and began licking up and down her slit, always coming back up to stab and flicked her clit with my tongue. It didn’t take Emily long to start panting and I felt her pulling on my head, pushing my face harder into her cunt. I slipped another finger in and she quivered beneath my face.
“Oh yes!” She gasped, lifting her left leg up and over my shoulder. Then she slapped her right hand down on the wooden bench as her left forced me even deeper. I drank her in, going back to her clit and sucking hard.
“Harder! Oh God yes!” She blurted out. Then a rush of wetness exploded against my face and I drank her down, sucking as she squirmed and twisted beneath me. The pull became a push and this time I grabbed her, refusing to let go, or stop, my tongue still darting against her clit. I had to take my fingers out of her just to wrap my arms around each leg.
“Stop!” She gasped, her desperate hands pushing at my head, then my shoulders. “STOP! I can’t! I can’t! It’s too…” Then she quivered again and another squirt of pussy juice flooded into my mouth. I heard a high-pitched squeal and this time I lifted my wet face, looking up. Emily’s eyes were unfocused and she was panting heavily, clearly lost in the moment. Grinning I pulled back, slowly standing to look down at the twenty-something year old clerk. She was slumped on the bench, legs spread stupidly wide, cum dripping from her cunt, her tan slacks bunched up around her right ankle, right beneath her cute little pink panties.
“That,” I said with utter satisfaction, “was amazing.” I licked my lips and then wiped the back of my hand across my face. She stared up at me, just breathing and when I opened the door and stepped out, she jerked but was unable to stop me. I closed the door behind me and then found myself face to face with Mistress Lucille.
“How was she?” Lucille asked.
I let out a laugh. “Can we buy her?”
For the first time, ever, Lucille laughed at something I said. She looked away. “I’m fairly sure she isn’t for sale.” She glanced around for just a moment, then looked me right in the eye. “Don’t make a sound,” she said sternly.
My eyebrow went up. “Don’t make a sound?”
But even as I said it, Lucille’s hands touched my sides and then slid up my front. Her fingertips disappeared under the front halves of my sweater, and I felt her palms on my breasts. I gasped, a sort of sensual surge shooting through me, and my eyes widened as she began kneading my tits. I licked my lips as her fingers worked down and suddenly, she wasn’t cupping or holding my bosom now. Her fingers tightened on the sensitive tips and I shook my head in alarm.
“Mistress!” I hissed. “There are people here!” And there were. Lots of them. Sure, none of them were standing right where they could see, but if she did what I thought she was going to do, they’d hear me.
Lucille’s fingers tightened anyway and the pleasure changed to discomfort. I winced. Then grimaced. Then I gasped as she began cruelly twisting. I struggled not to respond for a moment, but then it began really hurting and I brought my hands up, grabbing Lucille’s wrists. I pushed on her arms but her fingers were lock tight. For a moment I thought I was going to scream, but then she let go and I yelped, stumbling back away from her as she pulled her hands out from under my sweater. My arms came up and I cupped my breasts, the pain dulling but still very present. Then I looked at Mistress Lucille’s face and I knew I’d fucked up.
Badly.
I shook my head and held out a hand. “Please! Wait! I didn’t mean it! You can do it again and I won’t…”
*ZAP*
I let out a short cry, which I can assure you was heard throughout the entire store and my hands shot down to my crotch. It had been another short jolt, just like all the others, but it had been excruciating too. I trembled in the aftermath, half bent over, both hands pressed to my sex.
“Are you okay?” A familiar voice asked, and I looked up to see Emily, her clothing now back in place. She seemed very concerned, and I nodded, blinking away my tears.
“Of course, she is,” sneered Lucille. “She’s a painslut.” Emily looked at Lucille in confusion, then back at me. I nodded, then straightened up. Then the vibroballs in my pussy began rumbling and I tightened, groaning as I looked over at Lucille. Her hand was in her pocket again. The low-level vibrations combined with the ones still coming from my bottom and then the vibroballs increased speed to medium.
“Say goodbye, Breanne.”
I looked at Emily. “Are you for sale?”
Emily gave me a weird look and cocked her head sideways.
“Breanne,” Lucille said sternly.
“Goodbye,” I said softly, then started to follow my mistress.
Emily looked back between the two of us, then lurched forward and grabbed my hand, nodding emphatically. “Yes.”
I blinked. “Yes, what?”
She grinned. “I’m definitely for sale,” she replied.
But Lucille was walking toward the entrance. I gave Emily a pained look then hurried after my mistress. Out in the commons I caught up with her. She didn’t say anything but continued along with me beside her. I kept my mouth shut, mostly because I didn’t want to be shocked again, but also because she hadn’t turned off either the vibroballs or the anal beads. Both were buzzing along firmly and I could feel the pressure building again.
Fast.
The number of people in the mall had increased since we’d arrived and I found myself covering my breasts with my arms, just to keep people from staring. Lucille seemed oblivious to my discomfort, at least I thought she was, until a minute later she slowed, just enough for me to get ride by her side.
“Put your arms down,” she ordered. “I brought you out here to be humiliated.”
“But…”
I didn’t get any farther than that before the shock collar with its jury-rigged wire clamp sent another agonizing jolt through my clit. My arms certainly went down then, and I tipped over, squealing. It was only for a moment though because I caught sight of my reflection in the store window next to me. The sweater had fallen forward, and both of my breasts were in full view. In a flash, the pain still echoing through my clit didn’t seem that important. I straightened back up, bringing my hands up to my breasts, tugging the sweater back against my nipples. Then, before Lucille could shock me again, I swung my hands down to my hips, bracing myself for the coming jolt.
Instead, the vibroballs went to full power. So did the beads in my ass. I let out a panicked little mewl, trying not to thrust my hips lewdly. Lucille kept walking and I stumbled along beside her. Waves of sexual need rushed through me, and my pussy wouldn’t stop clenching. Or maybe it was my ass. Both. Whatever. People were staring at my top, or maybe they could see the clamp on my clit through the gauze of my skirt. I don’t know. Either. Both. I realized my heart was beating fast and I was once again racing toward the cliffs of orgasm, intent on throwing myself off the edge.
“Breanne, how much does Kari pay you?”
My head snapped and I looked at Lucille with a suspicious glare. “Um… I’m not sure Kari would approve me sharing that.” I braced myself, expecting a shock, but Lucille nodded as if she expected that answer.
“I’ve heard that your duties have changed somewhat. Has she decreased your salary?”
I blinked. “Decreased it?” I asked. “No. In fact, she increased it because I’m doing more.”
Lucille rolled her eyes. “Doing more of her work.” She took my arm and began walking us to another store. “But your value as a nympho humiliation pain slut has been reduced.”
My eyebrow went up. “But, we have so many clients. I’ve had to help out.”
Lucille shook her head. “No Bre, what I’m saying is that your value as a painslut is greater than your value as an interior designer.” Her mouth curled into a smirk. “Especially since all you do is southwest.”
I pursed my lips, about to retort to that accusation when Lucille took a sharp right turn, propelling me into one of the stores. It was a candle place and she marched me straight up to the woman at the desk.
“Good morning,” Lucille said simply. “I need a candle with a low temperature melting point.”
I gritted my teeth as the clerk gave Lucille a weird look.
“A low temperature melting point?” The clerk repeated. “Um… I’m not sure… uh…”
I closed my eyes and silent whispered, “don’t ask why. Don’t ask why…”
“Why a low temperature melting point?”
Fuck.
“I plan on dripping the hot wax all over my sex slave’s breasts,” Lucille said simply, pointing at my bosom. I felt the heat on my cheeks, but then the look on the clerk’s face was rich too. She had blushed just as much.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t think we sell anything appropriate.” The shock in her voice was apparent.
Lucille nodded. “Well, what about inappropriate?”
The clerk shook her head and retreated without another word. Lucille let out a little laugh and led me out of the store. Back out in the commons she pushed me forward.
“I will match your current salary and add a fifty-thousand-dollar yearly bonus.”
I froze and stared at Lucille. “Wait. You’re offering me a job? To do what?”
Lucille gave me a strange look. “What do you think?” She scowled. “Certainly not to redecorate my house in cow horns and wagon wheels.”
I bit my lip. “You want me to quit working for Kari.”
Lucille started walking again and I caught up to her. It wasn’t easy to think with the vibroballs and anal beads still buzzing between my legs.
“I’m confused. You have a submissive,” I said.
Lucille’s expression softened. “Bethany is just over ten years older than you. Her body is going through some changes. While I will not cast her away, she is unable to bear the rigors of my needs,” Lucille replied. “She has also made it clear that she is considering leaving me. Not because of our relationship, but because she has lost the craving.”
“For being dominated?”
“For being tortured.”
I swallowed. “Oh.”
Lucille continued. “You will arrive at eight each morning, Monday through Friday, in the nude, rain or shine. The first hour you will join me in the gym for a physically demanding workout that will include sexual use and torment, followed by getting cleaned up. After that you will accede to any of my demands or needs, whether that be in my playroom, or accompanying me out. I will provide you suitable clothing for your station as needed.”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t know what to say.
“You will also replace Bethany as my official submissive at Society Meetings, which means that I’ll be sharing you frequently with the other mistresses.” She flicked a glance at my chest. “And you’ll remove those stupid barbells and will wear an appropriate gold ring with lock on your right nipple.”
I closed my eyes. This was… momentous. Incredible. And frightening. The very thought of not driving into work each day to see Kari. Well, I couldn’t even imagine that. But… it was true that things had changed for me. The workload Kari was seeing had doubled since she first hired me. In fact, when my parents had literally sold the farm and I was lost in a world where my only major asset was my penchant for physical sexual use, she gave me a place and used me in exactly that way. That first year Kari hadn’t needed a secretary, or an assistant. She used me as an office slut. Someone to humiliate and abuse and torture, all to satisfy her sadistic needs.
But that was years ago. Things had changed. Now I spent four days a week, not wearing humiliating and slutty clothing meant for the set of “Slut Secretaries Punished XIV”, but outfits that were actually decent. Borderline decent, sure. Daringly sexy you might even say. But… decent. I met with clients about interior design. Materials. Timetables. I was managing the freaking demolition crew! Sexual torment had stopped being part of the job. Or at least, it had sure diminished. If I took Lucille up on her offer, sexual torment would be the job.
Mistress Lucille didn’t say anything else, but then turned us into another store. It was a weird one for her – not clothing but watches and jewelry. She took my hand and I felt something metal fall into my palm.
“Ask a man of your choice to put those on your breasts.”
My objection died on my lips because I knew if I said a word, I’d be given another shock, so instead I nodded, clenched my fist tight around the chain and clamps she’d deposited in my hand, and looked around. I didn’t even look at them. There was one guy in a corner, not a clerk but a customer. I headed straight for him and with my back to the rest of the store, and to Lucille, I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” I said politely.
He turned and his eyes widened as his gaze flickered down to my bosom. I smiled. Thank God men are simple to understand and motivate. I held out the clamps in my hand. “I’m Breanne and I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut. Would you mind putting these on my breasts?”
And that’s when I got a glimpse of the clamps. I’d been expecting clovers, or duck bill, but Lucille had given me alligator clamps. I stiffened in alarm because alligator clamps ran the gauntlet from mildly uncomfortable to causing exquisite agony. Depending on the interior spring, they would either bite down lightly, with minimal pressure, or squeeze so tight that I’d cry. Knowing Lucille, they were probably in the latter range.
“Seriously?” He asked, glancing down.
I nodded. “Please? I need it,” I whispered.
He glanced around, obviously uncomfortable with the location, but I fixed that by exposing my left breast. Maybe someone else saw a flash of skin, but my assistant moved quickly enough, pinching open the toothed clamp and bringing it up from underneath my nipple. I felt it bite down, first with a light pressure, then cruelly and I gasped, wincing from the pain. It might not have been as bad, had Lucille not been torturing my nipples all morning, first with those clothespins, then with the pinching and twisting. I let the sweater drop and exposed my other breast. The chain was cold and touched my belly, then rose as the man in front of me clamped my other tit. Pain rushed through my chest and I groaned, then gripped his arm as I shuddered. Then the fucking vibroballs went to full power.
Oh yeah. I was on the edge.
The pain morphed, just as it always does, into something more than the sum of its parts. My fucked up brain couldn’t handle it and I pushed myself away from man who’d just clamped my nipples and rushed back toward Mistress Lucille. I had to ask for permission! The chain, fully exposed and dangling out from under the sweater, jingled and bounced, and the thick material of my top didn’t hide the thick outlines of the clamps. I was even more a spectacle. I hurried up to her.
“Please? Please can I cum?”
Lucille smiled wickedly. “Of course not.”
I gritted my teeth, frustrated and over-pressurized. “Please! I can’t hold it back!” I knew that, just like she did. Instead, she took my hand and pulled me over to a niche between stores. People walked past us, most ignoring the nympho humiliation pain slut trembling in front of her mistress, but some gazing on with interest as my hips thrust forward and I shook.
“Breanne, do you know why you’re special?” Lucille asked softly. I shook my head. I was too close. Too hot and bothered. Too desperate. I was going to cum. It didn’t matter now. Permission or denial. I was about to pop.
“Because unlike most masochists,” she said simply. “It’s not about the differential. It’s about overload. Most of the submissives of the Society tolerate the pain, so that when the pleasure hits, it feels twice as strong.” She suddenly wrapped one arm around me, pulling me tight and I put my face down into her shoulder. “You on the other hand, get off on the pain itself.” Her arms tightened around me. “If you thrust against me, even once, I’ll shock you.”
I froze, but only for a second. I couldn’t help it. I’m not sure if I thought it through and made a conscious decision, or if I was running on autopilot. The Christmas music playing in the background seemed especially loud and people swirled past in my peripheral vision. My hips moved, thrusting and grinding against Mistress Lucille as the orgasm crested and I jumped, hard and fast into abyss. I felt an explosion between my legs. It might have been pain. Or pleasure. I don’t know. My brain wasn’t processing those sensations differently. It was just pressure. Overt sexual pressure. But so strong! I swooned as the adrenaline hit me. I felt wetness on my thighs and then I slumped against Lucille, my clit on fire but with the rest of me in excited ecstasy.
“Sssshhhh,” she whispered, stroking my back. I felt the vibroballs slow and then shut off, but the beads in my ass just went to low power, still buzzing softly.
I straightened, pulling myself out of her embrace, and looked at her weakly. “Did you shock me? I asked in confusion. “While I was cumming?”
Lucille nodded. “Five times,” she said wickedly. “With each thrust you made against me. It took you to climax and over the edge”
“I… but… it didn’t hurt.”
“No, it hurt you. I could feel the way your body responded.” She smiled. “But your brain interpreted the sensations as something else. That’s what makes you special Breanne. What makes you different. I’m going to hurt you some more on the way back to the car. And then, after lunch, I’m going to play with you in my dungeon, where your screams will not bother anyone.”
I nodded and grabbed her hand, holding it tightly. “Am I going to be allowed to cum again?” I asked softly as we started walking.
Lucille laughed. “Of course not. But you will. Because pain turns you on. And you are you.”
I pulled her to a stop. For a moment neither of us said a word. Then I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’m ready,” I said softly. “I accept. You can hurt me. Right now, if you want.”
Lucille nodded. There was no smile. Just acknowledgement “I know.” She pulled her hand out of mine and started walking. “Let’s go.”
And I disobeyed.
She realized I wasn’t there beside her and she stopped and looked back at me. I waited.
“Breanne?”
I stood there, people moving around me, my nipples still throbbing, caught in the alligator clamps, my ass clenched tightly around the vibrating anal beads, and my dripping wet pussy quivering. Our eyes met and suddenly she understood. I felt the vibroballs come on, and not on low. Full power. I bit my lip, straining not to move.
“Oh yes,” Lucille breathed, her eyes sparkling. “There it is. That snarky brat who deserves punishment.”
I lowered my eyelids and smirked. My entire body twitched with sexual need.
Then I felt it. The violation. The pain. The shock.
I bore it. I didn’t yelp, or squeal, or cry out. I didn’t put my hands down on my clit. I took a step forward, embracing the pain and I moved next to her. Not a word was said as we walked through the mall, back to the car, the dog collar delivering shock after shock, every two or three minutes. The vibrations never stopped and the looks I was getting… oh my god.
I was only a few feet away from the car when I finally cried out, lurching forward to brace myself as the second orgasm rushed through me. I could feel the electricity shooting across my clit, fire and ice and pressure. Girl goo squirted out onto the concrete, soaking my thighs and splattering my feet.
“You didn’t ask for permission,” Lucille said darkly, holding the small remote that went to the shock collar encircling my thigh.
I looked up, panting. “I just guess you’ll have to punish me for it,” I whispered. I felt the vibroballs and the anal beads slow and then stop. Lucille moved around to the other side of the car and opened the door.
Lucille grinned. “Oh. I intend to. Right after you give Kari your two-week notice,” she said, handing me her phone. I took it, sexual euphoria still cascading through my body. A thousand questions ran through my mind. Was this the right thing? Was I going to regret it? Was I going to even survive it? I gulped and then nodded. Kari’s number was in the contact list and I dialed.
“Hello?”
“Um… Hi Kari…” I said softly, feeling the vibroballs start back up. My pussy tightened and I slipped one hand down between my legs, feeling the shock clamp on my clit. “Um… I… I’m sorry, but I’m giving my two-weeks’ notice. I’m quitting.”
*ZAP*
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