Punishment

Punishment comes in a variety of ways and I’m starting to get used to it. Oh, not the individual punishments, and not physically. Mentally though, I’m getting used to being punished. I guess there is something about my nature that makes punishment not just normal, but likely as well.

Last week I broke the rules of one of my assignments. Worse, I broke it repeatedly. During the Clothespin assignment I wasn’t supposed to cum. Not once. I wasn’t able to stop myself, and then, after cumming once, I figured in for a penny in for a pound, and came and came and came.

I’m paying for that right now.

It’s eleven am and I’m sitting here naked in my room at the computer, trying to write. It’s actually pretty difficult right now because I’ve already started my punishment. No doubt you’re wondering what naughty sexually explicit torment I’m enduring. Well don’t worry. I was instructed to tell you.

About a week ago I cut a five foot piece of rope from the same spool I’ve used for other assignments. Remember my two barn rope walks? Yep. Same rope. It’s about an inch thick, rough, scratchy, distinctly uncomfortable, and it tightens when it dries. After wrapping it once around my waist, just above my hips, I tied it off and then let the long tail of left over rope dangle down from the small of back, lightly scratching the crack of my ass. Then, bending over, I reached between my legs, grabbed the loose end, and pulled.

Yes. I pulled it upward. I could feel it abrading my rear end as I tugged it painfully up between my butt cheeks. Then it tightened along my perineum. After sucking in my tummy, I threaded the rope up through the waist loop, and then tied a half hitch knot along the rope between my legs. It wasn’t hard. I was in Girl Scouts, though I seriously doubt they ever imagined I’d put the knowledge to use like this.

There were only two things left to do. I grabbed my ben wa balls, pushing them past the still semi-loose rope, running them through my petals, wetting them, letting myself get turned on, swollen, my clit throbbing with need. When both balls were firmly embedded inside me, I did the final thing. I tightened the rope.

It’s spreading me right now. My pussy is parted right down the middle, my clit directly under pressure from the rope. Pink petals, now scratched from the scraggly twine sticking out of the rope, are pushed to the sides of the hemp line; tender, swollen, hurting. Of course, the worst part is being turned on. Every step is like a fire inside me, the ben wa balls stimulating me as my movements cause the rope thong to slide through my slit. It’s not much movement, but there doesn’t need to be much. A single centimeter snags my clit, tugging it painfully. It’s like walking the barn rope again, not as bad, yet so much harder.

Every once in a while I involuntarily thrust my hips, unconsciously fucking an imaginary cock. That movement incites flames between my legs and I feel myself ripening, the rope soaking as my pussy humps the hemp line. It is everything I can do not masturbate.

But I’m supposed to. In fact, my instructions are to masturbate right now. Clitorally. I’m dreading it and wanting it all at the same time. I can usually cum through penetration and I would much rather experience that then to deal with the direct stimulation of my already abused and chaffed clit. But I have no choice. The vibrator is right here beside me. I’m to hold it to my clit, right next to the rope, or over it until I cum. I’m a bit scared too. But I’m going to do it.



I’m okay. I’m back. That was… intense. The rules of my punishment are explicit. I’m too masturbate without removing the crotch rope twice a day. I’m not allowed to wear panties, and I can only remove the rope while using the bathroom, not showering. All for seven days. I’m not sure I can make it. Yes, I just exploded, but my clit is so sore that I’m in even more distress that I was before I started! I can’t seem to stop humping the rope. It’s practically punctuating my sentences, each one separated by the manic thrusting my loins, desperate for relief. Yes I came, but it wasn’t the deep refreshing body wringing orgasm that I love. It was just more torture. But I guess that’s the point, isn’t it?

I’m also dreading this weekend. I have a new assignment coming up, one from Mistress Ellen. I’m supposed to go to a truck stop, find a driver heading to the other side of Houston, and ask for a lift in exchange for me riding naked and masturbating the whole way. Then I have to do the same to get back. I was worried how my punishment would affect the assignment, so Master Brandon offered to let me purchase time, free of my crotch rope, in order to complete Mistress Ellen’s orders.

The purchase price is another assignment, to be completed the following day after Mistress Ellen’s task. The night before the assignment I have to put my padlock key on a 4 foot string and freeze it in a 20oz bottle's worth of water. The next day I have to take the bottle (in a cooler), my Japanese Clover Clamps, my butterfly clitoral vibrator, my wrist cuffs, and my padlock and drive someplace that’s got a chain link fence. When I arrive I’m supposed to strip naked but leave the crotch rope and ben wa balls in and tight. Then the butterfly vibrator goes on, followed by the nipple clamps Then I’m to tie the end of the string that is attached to the bottle and key to the middle of the chain connecting the nipple clamps. The instructions say to toss the bottle over the top of the fence so that it dangles on the other side, pulling on my nipples. Then I’m to activate the butterfly vibrator and turn it to its maximum setting. Then the cuffs go on and I’m supposed to padlock them to the fence so that I can get to the key when the ice finally melts. The nice thing is that I’m allowed to cum. Lastly, if anyone comes up to me, I’m supposed to ask them to spank me.

I’m dreading it. Not sure where I’m going to find a chain link fence out in the middle of nowhere. I’m scared I’ll have to do it around town.

Geeze, my clit aches. I shouldn’t be reacting like this. I don’t know why I am! I need to cum again! But I don’t dare. I practically have rubbed my clit off as it is.

I’ll do Mistress Ellen’s assignment on Saturday, or maybe Sunday. Or if I need a break, maybe tomorrow. I don’t know. All I know is that it’s going to be a very long painful cum filled week.

Being Tortured from "The Keep"

Being Tortured - An excerpt from the unpublished novel "The Keep"

“Kari?” Fenel said as she looked up from her list.

“Yes, Mistress Fenel?” ask Kari obediently.

“You are to report to the dungeons. Go to the red room.” Fenel said.

There was an akward silence around the room as all the other girls looked at Kari. It wasn’t with jealousy. The dungeons were not a pleasant assignment. But it was Kari’s first time.

“Yes Mistress.” Replied Kari.

“Head there now.” Fenel waved her onward toward the door.

Kari nodded her head, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders. She quickly exited the dorm room and headed left down the long stairs toward the heavy wooden doors that separated the dungeons from the rest of the castle. It only took a few minutes before her diminuitive frame stood before a leather clad guard. He looked down at her and the pushed open the dungeon doors.

Kari knew that the other slave girls told stories of being called to the dungeon to help torture the Sorceress’ prisoners, or worse, to be tortured them selves. As the doors opened Kari drew in a startled gasp as she heard several cries and then a piercing scream resounding through the torch lit hall. More wooden doors stretched down the sides of the hall.

She paused upon the threshold and the guard behind her raised his hand and brought it smashing into her bottom. She squealed at the unexpected blow and turn toward him, clutching her buttocks.

“Get on there, girl.” The guard ordered.

Kari nodded and again faced the corridor. She began walking, looking at each door. These first were all colored blue with odd symbols painted upon each door. Every once in a while she could hear crying. Over twenty of these doors lined both sides of the hall and she suddenly found an intersection. The blue doors continued on, while to the left a red door was set in an alcove. To the right a yellow door faced it.

Suddenly Kari heard a girl’s cry of distress and she faced the yellow door. She noticed a keyhole and she quickly put her eye to the hole to see into the room. Inside, one of the other slave girls she hadn’t met before was impaled upon a phallus attached to a slanted bench while a leather clad man took a greased plug and was trying to push it into the girl’s bottom. The girl resisted and the man took a mallet and began striking the plug, ignoring the girl’s cries, until it penetrated her completely. Kari gasped as she imagined the huge intrusion. The man then took a leather strap and began whipping the impaled girl as she bounced upon the bench. Kari watched intently until she felt a rough hand on her shoulder.

“I believe you were ordered to the Red Room, little one.” Said the voice of a man as Kari felt herself turned. She looked up into the brown eyes of a kindly looking man who smiled pleasantly down at her. Kari’s eyes teared and she nodded.

“Well, come with me please.” He said, pulling her forward across the hall.

Kari let the man guide her toward the red door and flinched slightly as it opened. The room was well lit and very warm and she saw two tables on small wheels against the wall. Each table was covered with a blanket that concealed the contents, making small bumps and ridges under the cotton.

As Kari was pulled into the room, she turned to her left and saw a bench. At one end a cross bar had been mounted, making it look like an inverted letter “T”. It was well padded, and she noticed that some sort of winch had been mounted in the center of the cross bar.
The kindly man led her to the bench and then turned her to face him.

“Now Kari, you won’t need your smock. Please take it off. Or would you like me to do it for you?” He asked politely.

Kari shook her head and reached to her neck to untie the top strings of her smock. As they came loose the cloth covering her breasts fell, baring her smooth white globes. A few red lines still stretched across them, a reminder of the whipping she had endured earlier. Her fingers snagged the ties of her waist and in moments her smock fell to the ground.

The man smiled at her and reached out, running his fingers gently down her neck and chest to cup her breast. His thumb grazed her nipple and Kari felt herself quickening in her loins. He suddenly bent and suckled it, his tongue stroking the small nub as it hardened in his mouth and Kari moaned in pleasure, wrapping her arms around the man’s shoulders to hold him.
Suddenly he released her, pulling her arms from around him and he led her to the bench.

“Lay down, please.” He said.

Kari lay down on the small bench with her feet down by the cross bar. She folded her arms over her stomach as the kind looking man went to her ankles. His smooth fingers rubbed the arches of her feet and Kari mewed with pleasure. She closed her eyes as he continued to rub her. She heard a clanking and opened her eyes again to see him holding a padded iron cuff attached to a chain. As one hand held and stroked her foot, the other placed the cuff around her ankle. She felt her foot gently dropped and he repeated the process with her other ankle.

He reached down to the center of the cross bar and she heard him begin to crank the winch. As he did, the chains holding her ankles began to tighten and she felt her legs begin to spread to the far corners of the cross bar. As the winch pulled her legs farther and farther apart, she began sliding downward toward the cross bar until her legs were splayed almost split. Her wet pink slit was only an inch from the edge of the bench and she gasped as the man ran his finger through the soft flesh.

He then came around the bench and pulled her hands over her head. More shackles surrounded her wrists and she felt herself pulled taut. She could barely move with all of her body exposed. As soon as she was bound tight the man again ran his hands over her body, rubbing her sensitive nipples and then sliding his fingers deep into her sex.

She shivered at his touch and felt herself ripening wetly to his tender penetration. She moaned loudly and then gasped as he found her nub and pushed against it with his knuckle.

“There, there little one. It’s all right.” The man said as she tried to push up against him.

Kari closed her eyes and concentrated on the feelings coming from her sex. Waves of pleasure washed over and over her as his finger delved deep down. The taut stretching of her legs, spread wide apart only added to the intense ecxtasy of his touch. It became more than she could control and she felt her body shudder under the light orgasm.

The sound of the heavy wooden door echoed through the room and she opened her eyes to see a second man enter the room. His dark heavy eyebrows narrowed when he saw the first man.

“Barac, you know that you shouldn’t play with the girls before the torture begins.” Said the man who just entered.

“I know, Jorge. But this one was so cute and pliant and willing, I just couldn’t help myself.” Said Barak, who continued to pump his finger into Kari, eliciting moans.

“Well, let’s get started.” Said Jorge. He walked over to the first cloth covered table and wheeled it over to Barak.

“Since you’ve already started between her legs you might as well handle that part.” Jorge said. He moved back to the second cart and rolled it up next to Kari’s head.

Kari turned her head to watch as Jorge pulled the cloth from the cart. It was too tall however to give her more than a glance at several silver colored instruments and she glanced down her supine body to see Barak pull the cloth off with his free hand. She moaned as her pulled his finger from her body.

Barak began to speak to her softly. “Now little one, we are going to bring you to new heights of awarness in a moment. But first, I have to insert one of the Sorceress’ little toys into your body. It will be cold for just a second, at least at first. It will change temperature, size, texture, and will even move in your depths. There will be nothing you can do to control it except to control your own body’s responses to what we are doing to you. It will sense, with magic, what it will take to make your body reach those new levels of awareness I spoke off.”

Jorge grunted. “Awareness? Hogwash. We’re going to torture her, Barak. Sexually torture her. You know that’s where the Lady gets her power. Don’t mince words. Besides, these little girls would rather us tell the truth. He reached out and cruelly twisted one of Kari’s nipples.

“Wouldn’t you, girl?”

Kari cried out as pain radiated out from her tender nub. As her cry echoed through the room she felt the folds of her sex part and a hard round shaped object was pushed deep into her sex. Instantly she felt it begin to vibrate and shake and solid intense jolts of pleasure raced up through her, combining with the twisting pain of her breast and smashing against her like a tsunami. She screamed as she peaked, gasping and thrashing. The two men paused in surprise.

“Incredible. She’s multiorgasmic.” Said Barak with approval.

“Yes. It means we can take our time.” Jorge nodded. He picked up a sharply spiked wheel and brought it down to her breasts with a look of glee.

Assignment 07-19-10

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Does Humiliation Turn You On?

One of the most impressive forums for the BDSM Community is Hellfire Caves, a distinct group which I am privileged to belong to. Normally, I don't post non-fiction on my blog. To be honest, Michael Alexander Stories is supposed to be about exactly that: stories. Whether fact or fiction, the threads posted here are intended to titillate and excite. However, recently I came across an incredible little essay by one of the regular contributors at Hellfire Caves: mandy. Considering the wide range of perversions that are found in my stories, not to mention the depraved assignments of our very own nympho humiliation pain slut Breanne, I thought that this exploration of one of those aspects of submission was not only applicable, but perfect for my readers. (I think Breanne will enjoy reading this!) It also helps that mandy has a gift for bringing to mind the various aspects of the issue logically and with a sub's distinct perspective.

"Does Humiliation Turn You On?" Posted with permission from mandy.

Embarrassment ~ the act of causing confusion and shame; of making uncomfortably self-conscious Humiliation ~ the act of causing a painful loss of pride, self-respect, or dignity; to mortify Dehumanize ~ to deprive of human qualities or attributes; to divest of individuality Objectification ~ to present or regard as an object

How do you perceive the differences between embarrassment, humiliation, dehumanation, and objectification from the standpoint of a kinky/bdsm relationship? Do you bring any of these into your relationship and in what way? Has your idea of what is embarrassing or humiliating changed? How does it affect your relationship ~ do you feel differently toward your partner after a scene/playtime involving any one of these activities?

For me I have said I'm not into humiliation, yet 2 years ago the idea of being a doggie in a cage would have been completely humiliating. Now it is a thrill to be called his pet, to be told to bark, and the idea of being caged makes me wet in a minute. I'm not sure when humiliation turned into embarrassment, or even when the idea of what is embarrassing started to turn me on. There are many degrees of humiliation from being pushed to do something outside our comfort zone to face slapping, spitting and being peed on.

While being a "doggiegirl" has me doing some doggie tricks, wearing a collar and leash and even a lovely butt-tail, never have I thought of it as dehumanizing, which to me is a psychological mind fuck, leaving the person feeling worthless. Dehumanization can be dangerous to those who are not confident enough in their own skin.

Objectification can be taken in two different directions ~ 1. I have heard of the sub being a table or piece of furniture for the dominant (something I have never tried as it doesn't interest me atm) or 2. Being a sexual object such as a fuck-toy. Objectification is more of a fantasy idea and can go anywhere the imagination and willingness of both partners enjoy.

Does it make a relationship stronger? ~ I'd have to say each one takes a large degree of trust ~ and knowing your partner well. Communication as always is a key point. For myself, after a scene that is embarrassing/humiliating, I need to be assured that Mac enjoyed it too, that he was happy and proud of his subbie, and in doing so I think it does bring us closer. I will admit that there are times I think back to what we have done and it still causes a full body blush.

How can our partners determine how far to push ~ when the line has been crossed? I think it of course depends on the two people involved and knowing what each other expects and wants out of the play/scene. For me the embarrassment is a sign of submission, wanting him to take me a little further than before. And while I say humiliation/dehumanization/objectification is not for me I can't judge what works for someone else, what fulfills each one of us is about as different as the way we look.

Daily Assignment 07-13-10

This assignment is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog. To find out exactly what Breanne did (and trust me... it's a loony) check out Michael Alexander's VIP Lounge.

Weekend Special Assignment

Special Assignment: Assigned by Mistress Ellen

I'm trying to decide if I'm stupid and lucky, or just lucky. I think it’s the first, which is about the best thing I can say for myself at this point. What brought me to this? Well, it’s a long story. Okay, not really. It's a short story. A crazy short story. And it's one that begins with me logging on to chat messenger early on Saturday morning. Now normally this isn't a bad thing. I get to converse with a couple of my online doms, maybe get some writing done, maybe do a sex wager or two, answer fan mail. Yes. I get fan mail. Bite me. If you were a NHPS you'd be getting fan mail too.

So there I was in chat when Mistress Ellen asked what I had planned for the day. Well to be honest, I had nothing planned. Sure, on Sunday I was planning on boiling up an ear of corn and doing some rather impressive yet sexually explicit things with it, but Saturday was a little light on sexcapades. Mistress Ellen very politely asked me if I was interested in doing a "minor" task.

"Sure" I responded. Oh boy. What was I getting into? See? Me = Stupid.

Mistress Ellen is probably the most diabolical of all my online doms. While it is rare for her assignments to have much of a pain component, which I admit kind of sucks, her expertise at finding the most daring ways to humiliate me and have me run some serious risks is unparalleled. So what devilish scheme did she cook up for me?

Breanne, you will get dressed in any outfit you would like, however it must have five pieces, no more no less. You will then visit five different public men's restrooms. In each one of the restrooms you must make at least one man cum. For each man who cums, you must remove one article of clothing permanently for the duration of the assignment. You must visit all five restrooms regardless of how many men you have made cum, or the current state of your clothing.

Oh My God. Best case scenario: one man in each restroom and I would be leaving the fourth restroom half naked. The fifth restroom would be left totally naked. That’s a lot of naked. Worst case scenario? The first restroom would have five or more men in it, thus necessitating me visiting the other four restrooms totally naked. That's a whole lot of naked.

And the logistics...first of all: try not to get arrested. Sigh. Yeah, right. Second, where the hell do I find men's public restrooms where my activities will go unnoticed? And this is a "MINOR" task? My god....

Now, ready for the really stupid part? I AGREED TO THIS! Why? I have no idea. Okay, I have a little bit of an idea. It may have had something to do with the fact that the whole concept made me terribly horny and wet. Mistress Ellen said she didn't care how I made the men in the restrooms cum, but that she would prefer me to fuck as many as possible. Oh my. And I agreed to this...

Stupid. That's me. And screwed. Definitely screwed.

So at around 8:30 am on Saturday morning, I rushed out of the house, dressed in a pair of flip flops, short shorts, swim suit bikini bottoms, a tee shirt, and a bikini top underneath. I knew that if I was going to accomplish this it needed to be done ASAP. The only snag I ran into was that I was just a bit short on condoms.

Yes. Condoms. You don't think I just randomly fuck guys without protection do you? Sure, I don't make a big issue about it in my little narratives, but I'm a smart girl, so deal with it, okay? Anyway, I decided my first stop would be at our local chain pharmacy. I pulled up in my truck and started toward the sexual aids aisle when I encountered Mr. Perfect.

Mr. Perfect wasn't actually perfect. He was just perfect for me at that moment. He was maybe sixteen or seventeen, blond, muscular, cute, and as it turned out, a little inexperienced. With a sudden desire to be naughty, I stopped him, laying one hand on his arm and giving him my million watt please fuck me in the bathroom smile. Then I hit him between the eyes with the million dollar question.

"Excuse me," I asked. "Where are the condoms located?"

You should have seen his eyes pop out of his head. He stammered something about an aisle number, but I quickly headed that off by asking him to show me personally. And I kept my hand on his arm while we went. It was awesome. He was so stiff about the whole thing. I even made a show about asking with condom did he think would be the best. In the end, I picked up the largest box of ribbed condoms, which are my personal favorite. Hey, I buy in bulk! Then I leaned closer, making sure my breasts rubbed against his arm, and asked him if he could help me to the restroom. Ah....serendipity, right? He nodded stupidly, not even realizing what was coming. We made a short side trip to the front desk in order for him to grab the key, and then we went right back to the rear of the store. He headed for the women's restroom, but I stopped him.

"I want to go in there. Can you come with me?" I asked sweetly as I pointed to the men's restroom.

He said something unintelligent that only faintly resembled actual language. Then he was unlocking the men's restroom door and I tugged him in with one hand while the other still grasped the box of condoms.

Once we were in the restroom, I locked the door behind us. His eyes were large, as if he couldn't believe this was happening. I opened the box, pulled out one small packet, and then knelt down on the floor in front of him. My hands were at his belt, unbuckling, tugging, opening, unzipping, and then his cock was in my face. I opened my mouth wide and began sucking him. His eyes closed in rapture as I worked him. I opened the packet while my mouth was still wrapped around his shaft. Then with quick motions, I jacked his cock with my hands, pushing the little rubber sleeve down over his moist shaft.

That's when I tugged my bikini bottoms and shorts off. I pulled him down to the ground, pushing him onto his back. One leg went across his midsection and then I was straddling him, impaling myself perfectly on his teenage dick. It was totally awesome!

Unfortunately however, he came before I did, leaving me wet, horny, desperate, and still wanting more. We separated and I tossed the condom in the trash. Carefully, I pulled my bikini bottoms and shorts back up my long bare legs, and contemplated my next step: removing permanently an article of clothing.

I was wearing five items, counting my flip flops. A shirt, a two piece bikini, and a pair of shorts. I decided on going without the shirt. Yes, a daring choice, but I wanted my flip flops on a little longer. I gave my lover a quick peck on the cheek, patted his back while ignoring his dazed expression, and then unlocked the door. I had my opened box of condoms in one hand and I went to the register where a very sweet girl warned me that the box was open. I laughed, told her I opened it, and paid for my purchase. I was just leaving when my paramour came up to the front, still looking dazed. The sweet girl looked back and forth at us as I gave him a little wave, but I'm not sure if she completely realized what had happened. Nor did I care.

I tossed my shirt into the cab of my truck, knowing that it was going to be the bottom of a very interesting pile before long. I got in my truck and headed down to Pederson Road for my next stop: an Arby's. Now I admit, I like roast beef and I like Arby's. Granted, it’s not my ideal location for a romantic dinner, or even a spot to strip naked and fuck some strange guy, but it works on occasion. The food is good at least. I especially like the French dip sandwich with au jus...yummy. The reason I choose Arby's however, was because I knew that there wouldn't be many people in there. So after a few minutes driving, I parked outside the restaurant, went inside, and headed to the restroom.

I guess I need to mention that seeing a cute girl wearing denim shorts, flip flops, and a bikini top, while not really common, isn't exactly rare here in this part of Texas. While it draws more than the average look, it isn't something to get all excited over. Which is why I really didn't attract any attention walking out of the pharmacy, or into the restaurant. No one saw me go into the men's restroom. It was a small one, with one urinal, and one toilet. Even better, it was occupied. One guy, washing his hands. Sweet.

He looked surprised and when I smiled at him, he grinned back.

"I know I'm in the right place, so that must mean you are not." He said politely.

I gave him a little smirk. "No. I think I'm in the right place." I replied. I moved up to him and introduced myself. "I'm Breanne and I would really really like to suck your cock." My hand was already on the door lock and quickly snicked it closed.

I love that look of surprise on guy's faces when I say stuff like that. Of course, this is invariably followed up with "is this a joke?" To answer that question, I pulled up my bikini top, exposing my breasts while I sank to my knees in front of him. He let me open his shorts, yank out his cock, and take it into my mouth before even saying anything in response. And when he did speak, all he said was "oh yeah."

Over and over.

I kind of ignored it. I worked his shaft, bobbing my head up and down on him. I'm lucky that I've made a study of cock sucking. It makes it easier when I have assignments like this where orgasm is the cool. Usually blowjobs are for getting a guy hard and keeping him that way, not to make him cum, but I've gotten pretty good at it. That said, it was still about ten or so minutes before he was ready to cum and he shot a long stream of sticky white goo into my mouth which leaked a bit at the corners, dripping down onto my chin and chest. When he was finished, I gave him a last long lick and used a finger to get the last of his cum into my mouth. Two restrooms down, three to go. Of course the next major decision was what to take off. Actually, it wasn't that major. I decided to take off my flip flops of course. That left me in my shorts and bikini. I gave my latest conquest a kiss, my email address, and then left. I thought about getting something to eat, but I had just had a snack.

Time was running out for me, but the next three restrooms were going to be the worst to handle. I'd been very very lucky so far to pick public restrooms that were lockable and relatively unused. I knew my next location wasn't going to be as perfect. I drove down I-10 all the way to the mall. Not my usual mall there in Katy, but the one down by Gessner Road. There is a particular department store there that will remain nameless and I was heading for this singular and familiar location because the entrance is located right next to a restroom. Now granted, Saturday at the mall isn't exactly the smartest time of the day to go, but it was nearing ten o'clock and an early morning arrival was definitely the preference, especially since the next item of clothing that was going to be going the way of the dodo was my shorts. Having the restroom that close to the entrance/exit was just plain smart. At about five minutes to ten I pulled up into a parking space, right near the entrance.

Would you believe I was nervous? I was. I mean, just sitting there, contemplating what I was about to do was just nerve wracking. Knowing that I was about to go into the men's restroom, ask some random guy to either let me blow him or fuck his brains out, and then walk out wearing absolutely nothing but a bikini was just crazy. Crazy yes, but also the sexual equivalent of shooting up straight adrenaline while winning the lottery. Okay, that metaphor may have been a little over the top. At ten o'clock I watched a very nice looking gentlemen begin unlocking the doors. I got out of my truck, locked it, tucked the keys into my little bag, and headed inside.

Yes. I got a strange look. I guess he'd never seen a pretty girl walk into a department store bare foot before. I ignored the odd expression on his face and returned it with one of my million watt please fuck me in the restroom with a clothesrack smiles. He couldn't help it. He smiled back. That's one for Breanne, zero for everyone else. I guess my smile can move mountains. That and my ass. I suppose I could stop wars with just a little bit of effort. In any event I walked through both sets of glass doors and immediately turned to my right and walked down the very small hallway that led to the restrooms. No one was back there, and I expected that. I peeked into the men's room and found it completely empty. How disappointing. Feeling a bit sheepish, I went back out toward the main sales floor and glanced around. The place was still virtually empty and I sighed a bit. Brilliant Breanne. Just brilliant. I returned to the bathroom and went into one of the stalls, sat down, and waited.

And waited.

Would you believe I was in there a full twenty minutes before I heard the door open. My breath caught in my throat and I held still as I heard someone come in and move toward the urinals. That's when it occurred to me that I have to stop doing shit like this in bathrooms. Guys come in here to pee, not fuck. Even if I only give a blowjob, it’s going to be like sucking a straw that just filled a toilet. Yuck. Note to Mistress Ellen: No more bathroom assignments. Ever. I waited until I heard his flow stop, and then, just as the toilet was flushing, I stood up, opened the stall door, and stepped out into the bathroom.

Let's see. Middle age man, slightly balding, button up oxford shirt, khaki shorts, trimmed mustache, a little overweight, sensible tennis shoes. Actually, in hindsight, he sort of reminded me of a big teddy bear. I liked him, almost immediately. Granted, he was a little surprised to find me in the rest room, but he had a decent sense of humor and gave me a smile with his embarrassment covering one liner.

"Lost your way, Miss?" He asked. Why do guys always ask stuff like this when they find a girl in the men's room? It must not happen that often.

I grinned at him and stepped closer, much too close to be honest. I find that the easiest way to disarm a man is to violate his personal space. Mentally, they aren't equipped to handle the violation when their body is screaming "fuck her!" and their brain is trying to understand why she is getting so close. It works relatively well.

I shook my head. "Actually no. I haven't lost my way. I was waiting for you." I replied, my voice a little husky, sensuous. This guy was going to need a little encouragement.

One eyebrow went up. "Waiting for me?" He looked suspicious. Middle aged overweight balding men aren't approached by cute girls in bathrooms wearing bikini tops very often. I guess I should be a bit more understanding.

My hands went up to my breasts and with a single movement exposed both tits to his now exploding eyeballs. "Yes. I was waiting for you. I want you to take me into that stall and fuck my brains out" I said softly. I didn't give him a chance to object. I grabbed his arm and pulled.

I've known men to resist me, pull against me, even fight me when I wanted them. Okay...no I haven't. Every time I've invited a guy anywhere, they've gone. I could probably ask a guy to go into a burning house with me, and if I were naked or promised to have sex with them they'd follow. I mean, seriously, how bad could death be if you go out orgasming, right? I used to watch this Japanese anime where this human boy was constantly being invited to have sex with a succubus. The lore said that he'd get five years of awesome constant mind blowing sex. Then he'd die. Every guy I've ever known would have at least THOUGHT "mind blowing sex? Five years? That's a long time!"

He allowed me to pull him into the back stall and I immediately shucked out of my shorts and bikini bottoms. He watched, eyes wide, mouth open as I stripped. I managed to get it all off too, not just my bottoms but even the top bikini part. Once I was completely naked I moved to him and he wrapped his arms around me. Suddenly I was being bear hugged, literally lifted up off the ground and I felt a mouth on my nipple sucking gently. Oh my...

Then to my astonishment, he set me down just as gently, moved me against the wall, and then got down on HIS KNEES! WTF? Next thing I know one of my legs was up on the toilet and his tongue was doing the most amazing things to my clit. He stabbed at me, he sucked on me, he licked me, he did...something. And then I was cumming, hard. It was amazing. I haven't had a clitoral orgasm like that in...well...ages. It was awesome. After I settled down I pushed him to the floor. I took me only a moment to get his shorts down and his cock in my hands and I tried very hard to repay him for what he had just done to me. It didn't take long. He popped in mouth after about three minutes. I sucked him down greedily. Then, even though his cock had gone soft, I kept at it, sucking and licking until he started to get hard again. What can I say? I was hooked. I opened the condom package, stuck the thing in my mouth, and then went down on him.

Now I know that some of you are saying that putting on a condom with your mouth is a skill only a whore would know. Well fuck you. Nympho humiliation pain sluts know it too. So bite me. Once he was properly protected, I lifted up, straddled him, positioned myself, and froze.

Yep. Froze. Because the bathroom door opened. I looked down at my gentlemen who had a look of embarrassment on his face and before he could move out from under me I quickly dropped down while laying a soft finger against his lips. I felt his cock jerk inside me as he looked at me with wild eyes. I gave him a silent smile even as we heard the hissing sound of someone pissing into one of the urinals. Geeze. I hate the sound of that word. NO MORE BATHROOMS! LOL. I began grinding, softly moving up and down as the other bathroom guest finished up then moved to the sinks. If he saw us, which I doubt, he didn't care what we were doing. AS soon as he left, my partner let out a sharp groan and his hands were on my bottom, kneading away. We moved together, there on the floor of a bathroom, grinding softly. I came again. I think it was his thumbs. They were doing something to my nipples. Then he let out a little shudder of climax and I rested my weight on him as he sighed deeply.



After a few moments I stood up, used some paper towels to clean myself off, and then introduced myself and asked his name. Henry was a nice gentleman and he was at the mall to pick up some new shirts for work. Aww.... and look what he got! I found out that Henry was unmarried, worked in the insurance industry, and hadn't been laid in seven years. I got asked out on a date. Imagine that! He's only thirty or so years older than I am. I'm sure my parents won't object. LOL. I told him that he need to know who I was first, so I gave him the website address and the blog address, and my email address. LOL I need a business card. Can you imagine that?



Yeah...enough of that. So Henry, if you're reading this, email me! I'd love to go out with you sometime! You can do that thing with your tongue again.

Okay, where was I? Oh yeah. We got dressed, or in my case, partially dressed. I replaced my bikini top and bottom, but this time I kept my shorts in my hand. After saying goodbye to Henry, I stepped out into the hallway, and then walked out to my car as if I owned the place. On my way out I spotted the guy who had unlocked the entrance earlier. I smiled at him again as his eyes focused on my mostly exposed rear. I guess I shouldn't have worn a bun floss bikini. Ooops. As I passed him I paused.

"Too bad you didn't come to the restroom after I got here. I fucked the last guy who went in." I said conspiratorially. I gave him a smile. As luck would have it, Henry came out of the hallway at just that moment and I waved at him with a grin and he waved back...quite enthusiastically. You should have seen the sales guy. His expression was awesome. Half oh shit and half oh man. LOL I love my job.

Leaving was easy. Back at my truck I unlocked the door, reflecting on how lucky I had been so far. Three bathrooms, three men. I had no way of knowing that my luck was about to change. I put the truck in drive and headed toward my next stop.

Choosing the next two bathrooms was probably the hardest part of the whole assignment. I knew that no matter what, I would be leaving the next one with my breasts fully exposed. This didn't worry me too much. It's not illegal to be walking around without a shirt. It just draws a lot of attention. I can handle that. Of course, public sex is illegal, but hey, it’s only a problem if you get caught, right? It was getting rather late, like around eleven thirty and I headed back toward my neck of the woods, then turned north.

There are two large sports complexes in my town. One is north of the freeway and basically has several very large baseball fields, and then a few soccer fields. I’ve actually completed an assignment at this particular restroom, another one of Mistress Ellen’s little “tasks”. That evening resulted in getting an official warning from a police officer for “unbecoming” behavior. With that fresh in mind, I pulled up to the park with a little trepidation. Of course, we’re right in the middle of baseball season, which forced me to reconsider my choice when I arrived. The place was packed with thousands of screaming kids, cheering parents, the occasional cop, and just all sorts of problems for a nympho humiliation pain slut with orders to strip naked. So with a bit of regret I drove away from the northern park and headed south toward the complex that was nothing but soccer fields. I was also intimately familiar with the restrooms south of town, since I had screwed myself with a toilet brush there, and then followed the whole thing up with a full course of soccer players.

The southern complex was packed, leaving me with few options. Where to go? Sure, I could go IN to the restroom, but I knew I’d be leaving if not naked, than half-naked. And the likelihood of running into only one person as opposed to ten was about as crazy sounding as what I was about to do. In the end, I drove away, mind racing. I headed back down the freeway in frustration. I didn’t want to give up but I was starting to think that there weren’t going to be any other options.

I had only gone four miles when I passed it. It was just a square office building, rather lackluster in its architectural complexity. A “Space for Lease” sign stood in front, but one corner of the building was occupied by a small local bank. Even better, it was open. There were a number of cars parked out front and I knew that an office building like this would have their own public restroom in the hallways. It was also just as likely that the bank WOULDN’T have public restrooms. Chances are I would only run into one person in the restroom, or would have to wait, and it was highly unlikely that person would be a kid. Eureka! Sure, it still left me with one major problem: the last bathroom, but at least I was a bit closer to completing the assignment.

I parked the truck in the lot by the front door. First, I checked my bag and made sure I had three or four condoms. Then I went exploring. Evidently to get into the bank lobby you had to enter the office building and THEN go into the lobby which was accessed from the building’s atrium. Ah…so many lobbies. I padded in, my bare feet slapping softly on the tile floor of the atrium. The glass walls of the bank made it easy to see who was staring, and I admit that there were a few heads turning. I ignored them as I moved down the hall and went looking for the bathroom.

I found it in about a minute. It wasn’t that far away. As usual, I hesitated as my mind and my body argued about which room to go into. My hand reached out and pushed on the men’s restroom door and I forced myself to go in, ready to offer my sexual services to who ever was present.

Which was no one. The place was emptier than a banker’s soul. I took a deep breath, the tension running out of me. There were two stalls, one super large for handicap access. Two urinals and a double sink station finished out the room, and by large, this was the cleanest and nicest bathroom I had been in all day. The place smelled antiseptic. Knowing it would only be a matter of time; I removed my bikini top, draped it on a hook in the handicap stall, and then sat down on the floor facing the restroom door. That way I would be the first thing anyone saw when they came in.

It was a long wait. I realized afterward that it probably wasn’t any longer than thirty minutes, but when your sitting on cold tile, in what amounts to a g string bikini, at least from the back, with nothing to do except run your fingers over your clit over and over, time moves pretty slow. I even practiced my opening line. Hi, my name is Breanne and I’d like to make you cum. To be honest though, a lot of my thinking was over the next day’s assignment with the corn on the cob. Now THERE was an assignment that I was both interested in and feared.

I was deep in a fantasy involving a large hot piece of corn on the cob when the door opened. A tall handsome black man in black trousers and a bank logo emblazoned polo shirt entered the bathroom. His large brown eyes widened in surprise as he saw me sitting there and I struggled to my feet, my heart suddenly starting to thud painfully against my ribs.

“Uh…hi!” I said, completely forgetting the line I had been mentally practicing.

He gave me a little smile. “Hello. Aren’t you in the wrong restroom?” He asked.

I returned his grin and laughed, my confidence returning. “My name is Breanne and I’d like to make you cum.” I said softly as I took a few steps forward.

The expression that I got was a little weird. Half apologetically, he motioned toward one of the urinals and replied. “I um…really need to take a leak.”

Whoa. Can you say embarrassment? I gave him the “oh shit I did it now” look and backed out of his way, motioning him toward the urinal. He gave me another weird glance but stepped up to the porcelain bowl and began working at his trousers. When it was obvious he was getting out his cock, I stepped right up next to him and looked down at his dick.

It was rather large, but not abnormally so. I’ve seen white guys with cocks that big. But there was something about it, maybe the texture, that I liked. He jerked a little when he noticed me looking.

“Can I hold it for you?” I asked.

“Uh…” his response didn’t seem very cogent so I just reached out, grabbed his cock, and pointed it toward the bowl.

“Go ahead” I said. Now I’ve never ever done anything like this in my entire life. But hey, there’s a first time for everything, right? And to give the guy some credit, he did actually start peeing. To be honest, I felt powerful. I moved his cock around slightly, directing the stream, squeezing and stroking at the same time. I also learned why guys are so messy. The stream tends to splatter a lot and even worse, when he first started, the stream was pinched and came out in this two stream spray. Man, if I were a guy, I’d only pee sitting down. Talk about untidy. But finally we came to the end and I shook him softly, getting rid of the last bits of his water. I didn’t let go though. I gave him a tug and started pulling him, softly of course, toward the back stall. He didn’t resist, but he wasn’t cooperative either, and I had to reassure him that this wasn’t a joke.

“I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut and my online Mistress ordered me to find a bathroom and make any guy that either came into the bathroom, or was already in the bathroom cum. So please at least let me give you a blowjob.” I begged.

“You mean you’d fuck me?” He asked.

I nodded and immediately pushed my bikini bottoms to the floor, spreading my legs. I pointed at my small bag. “I’ve got condoms in there.”

Now he was cooperative. I pulled him into the back stall and we closed and locked the door. I got down on my knees and started sucking on his cock while I stroked his balls, reveling in the sexual contact. He seemed to enjoy it too. After about four or five minutes, he told me he wanted me and I let go long enough to grab my bag and extract the largest condom I had. Opening the small packet and putting it in my mouth, I proceeded to apply it over his shaft, keeping him hard.

Then he lifted me to my feet, bent me over and lifted one leg up. I felt his cock at my pussy and I moved backward against him, feeling the bulbed head of his shaft push against my petals. A few minor adjustments were made to things like angel and position, and then he slid all eight inches into my pussy in one long slow deep fuck.

Have you ever fucked porn style? It’s not exactly the most awesome thing. I have no idea how porn stars do it. First of all, you’ve got to practically be in either yoga or gymnastics to gyrate, pump and grind when one leg is propped up at waist height and you’re bent over like a ballerina doing stretches. It’s also not exactly a position that encourages sexual release. But I followed along as he pumped into me and we moved in unison for about five minutes before he put my leg down and repositioned me, this time bent over, my forearms on the toilet bowl piping, my breasts almost touching the seat.

He came up behind me, driving deeply into my pussy and I concentrated on not banging my head against the tiled wall. I guess I’m a good fuck though, because this position had him popping in just a few thrusts and I could feel his cock go from granite to throbbing piston to flaccid noodle in the space of two minutes. With a sigh he pulled out, used some toilet paper to clean up and pulled off the condom. He cleaned himself before I had an opportunity to offer. I noticed his trousers and boxers were on the floor. Evidently he had stepped out of them at some point, and I picked them up, smoothing out the wrinkles as I handed them to him.

“That was sweet. So you had to fuck anyone who came into the restroom?”

“Sort of sir. Fuck or suck. It was my choice.”

He nodded. “Well I’m glad I got the fuck part. You’re a sweet piece of ass, sugar.” He zipped up his trousers as I went and grabbed my bikini bottoms. “You leaving?” He asked.

I nodded. “Yes sir. I’ve got one more bathroom to visit today.”

He gave me a look. “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

Uh oh. “Sure. What do you need?”

“Can you like, stay in this bathroom for about five more minutes?” He asked, tucking his shirt into his waist band as he buckled his belt.

I have him a look. “What for?”

He grinned. “Want to get something for you.”

I shrugged. “Sure sir. I can wait for you to get back.”

“Great!”

He turned and left, leaving me standing naked in the men’s restroom.

Men. Hopefully he wasn’t getting a spare wedding ring or something. I’ve received more dates, marriage proposals, and slave collar offers than I can shake a stick at. I grabbed my bikini bottoms and stepped into them, pulling them up over my wet and still rather unsatisfied pussy. I didn’t put on the bikini top. As per instructions, I had lost my right to wear it the moment that Mr. Please Wait Here exploded. I leaned against the wall, my arms folded across my chest, waiting.

The wait wasn’t long, granted. But it wasn’t the black guy who came through the door. This time it was an Indian guy, or maybe Pakistani. I can’t tell. He was holding a carnation, pink, in his right hand and he held it out to me with this beaming smile.

“Devon ahsked mee to geeve you dis.” Oh my god, his accent was horrible. I took it. That rat bastard. He knew that I had to offer any guy who came into the restroom the opportunity to cum. He SENT this guy.

Now granted, the Indian guy was cute, and to be honest, I even sort of liked his accent. I accepted the flower, lowering my arms so that he could see my breasts. “Hi. My name is Breanne. Can I make you cum?”

He bobbed his head. “Oh yes please, I’d like to fuck. I like fucking American girls!” Ah yes. Who doesn’t like fucking American girls? We’re the perfect combination of what the world considers colonial ignorance coupled with a complete lack of moral values, resting on a culture despised yet lusted after by the rest of humanity. Everyone likes fucking with Americans and better yet, getting to fuck an American girl is the epitome of class everywhere but America. Here it’s just a normal day.

And so my bikini bottoms came off. Again. And after I was laid on my back on the floor of the back bathroom stall with no pillow for my head, a stiff, rather inexperienced Indian guy came. It was anti-climactic in the extreme. I didn’t cum because I didn’t even have a chance to rise to the occasion. He didn’t even want a blowjob. He just took my arm and pushed me down. If I hadn’t made an issue of the condom, he wouldn’t even have put one on. Then he just spread my legs, pushed and began pumping. He came before I could have counted to fifty. What a rube.

He thanked me after he was done of course. Very polite. Then, as a clincher, he turned and asked me if I would be willing to wait here in the restroom for about five minutes.

“Why?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. American girls are constantly getting fucked, but that doesn’t mean we’re stupid. It means we generally like it. But we don’t like being taken advantage of.

“I want to bring you something” he replied.

I’d already been down this road. “Sorry. I’ve got places to go. But tell you what. I’ll walk you back to the bank.” I said. I grabbed my swimsuit, balled it up in one hand, and grabbed his arm.

“Uh…aren’t you going to dress?” he asked as I propelled him out the bathroom door.

I shook my head. “I’m not allowed to. When you came my right to wear this clothing went away. Trust me, it’s normal for American girls to walk around naked. Come on.” I wrapped an arm through his and we walked back to the bank.

I didn’t go in with him of course. We stopped at the glass wall by the door. I wrapped my arms around his body and gave him a long sweet kiss, all while grinding my still soaked and wet pussy against the front of his pants. Then I gave a nice wave and a beaming one million watt I just fucked this Indian guy smile to everyone in the bank. Everyone, customer and employee alike, was staring at us. I could see the black guy in the back, his face a mask of horror. Then I patted my most recent lover’s chest and walked out of the building back to my truck.

Ah. Revenge. Never fuck an American girl unless you’re willing to take the consequences or at least keep her tied up. Though I admit, a part of me felt bad. I mean, really, it was the black guy who had been the dishonest one, setting me up like that. Worse, I realized that I would be visiting the last bathroom completely naked, in and out. I climbed into my truck with no one the wiser and I tossed my bikini onto the pile on the opposite seat. I cranked the engine and pulled out of the lot, unsure of which direction to go.

I ended up wandering. My pussy tingled from unfulfilled lust and more than just a little fear. I drove cautiously, always staying in the right side lane to minimize people seeing me naked behind the wheel. Thank god for tinted windows, right?

What I needed was a place where only adults would congregate. It needed to have an entrance close to both parking and the restroom. It needed to have people in it who wouldn’t call the police the moment a cute naked girl strolled up. I hit the brakes as I passed it. It was on Highway 6. I quickly turned into the parking lot and threaded my way back along the side of the road, weaving through two parking lots before I was able to park.

It was a biker bar. An ice house as they call it in Houston. It was once a mechanics garage but had long been turned into a pool table filled open air refreshment establishment. I’d never been in there, but the nine or ten bikes out front said that there were people who wouldn’t call the police if a naked girl showed up. The “Bar” sign said that there would be no minors present. And the fact that there was a parking space about four feet away from the wall would minimize my exposure to passersby on the road.

I sat in the truck, my heart thumping wildly. I knew my little bag wouldn’t hold enough condoms. I pulled the two left in the bag out and stuffed them into the large box. Then I tucked my keys and little bag under the seat, grabbed the box of condoms, and got out of the car. The gravel hurt my feet but I made it to the entrance way and entered the shaded coolness of the ice house.

If there had been conversation before I entered, there wasn’t afterward. There were about ten guys at various pool tables and I felt about twenty or so eyes focused on my naked body. Talk about an eye fucking. One set of wide eyes stood behind a bar and I walked up to him, my box of condoms perhaps making more of a statement than I had intended.

“Excuse me. I’m Breanne. Can you direct me to your men’s restroom?” I asked. The bartender’s eyes flickered toward the back of the building. I turned and looked past the entire group of staring men. There, in the back, was a small door that said “restroom.” I thanked the bartender and threaded my way through the pool tables and bikers, the scent of black leather and beer permeating the room. No one touched me and I made it to the door. I opened it and found a small room with a toilet and wash basin. No urinals, and not much space. Great. More porn positions. Then I turned and faced the still watching men. I held up the box of condoms and gave it a quick shake.

“One at a time gentlemen. I’ll be waiting.” Then I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

I don’t think I need to describe the fuckfest. After the first two bikers in the bathroom, I was unceremoniously moved into the main room and deposited on a pool table. I’m not sure how many times I was fucked, or by how many guys, because frankly there were enough that by the time I had gone through the entire list, more had arrived and even a few others who had achieved satisfaction came back for seconds. I can tell you one thing though: I came. Lots. I didn’t bother to count orgasms. I finally stopped the whole thing when we ran out of condoms. There was an immediate outpouring of volunteers to go get another box, but I protested, explaining that I was exhausted and really needed to get going. It was already three o’clock and I was way past due back at home.

To be honest, I expected to be detained, raped as it were. But these guys were really polite and sweet. I even got an escort back out to my truck – by the bartender no less. As I slipped into the seat and grabbed hold of my clothes he patted me on the arm.

“Breanne, I just want to let you know that you can come back anytime. I’ll keep an extra box of condoms under the counter for you.”

I struggled into my tee shirt and shorts, ignoring my swim suit. I turned, thanked him, and promised I’d be back. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I realized that nine or ten motorcycles had turned into thirty. Oh my god….

So there you have it. My Special Weekend Assignment. And now that I’m done typing this up, I have to start on what I did Sunday with the corn on the cob. Geeze, it’s been a busy weekend. So stay tuned, check the blog, become a follower or a fan or whatever. Email me, leave a comment.

Because I’ll be describing exactly what it feels like to push a cooked cob of corn up…. Well…you can just read about it in a day or two…

My love to everyone.

Bre

New Cover Art for "The Spa"

We are pleased to announce the release of our new cover art for Michael Alexander's Short Story: The Spa. Our resident manga artist "Sheo" outdid herself!

Richard Nicholson hears of every man's dream...a special spa that caters to erotic desires. Richard finds his way into the capable hands of Ahn, a special masseuse, who gives him that "special" massage. This is EVERY man's dream...

M/f, Vanilla

Join Richard on his trip to a special massage parlor that takes the idea of relaxation a little farther than usual. Meet Ahn, the pretty little vixen who takes Richard to new levels, several times! Read "The Spa" absolutely free at www.michaelalexanderstories.com!

The Application

"I have to inquire if you are truly aware of the nature of the position." He asked, stubbing out the cigarette in the glass ashtray on the table. He looked up at her, shifting in his wool suit. He wasn't uncomfortable, but this was the moment when the applicants usually bailed.

She nodded her head. "Yes, sir. I am aware of the nature of the position." Her long blond hair bobbed in time with her chin as she smiled. He sighed. Blondes. How many had he sent along only to be contacted later to be told that the current employee wasn't cooperative, or was insufficient? He decided to take a different approach.

"Let me be blunt, Miss Carpenter. Upon arriving at Isle de Novo, you will be escorted into the facility where you will be given a complete and intrusive medical examination. If you are completely cleared medically, you will be taken to the training facility where you will be strapped to a table with your legs spread. Your personal trainer will insert both vaginal and anal dildos, which will be attached to a motorized pumping system. You will then be fucked, repeatedly, constantly, forcefully, non-stop for an entire two months. Your only relief will be when you are using the bathroom. Your trainer will also spend time applying a variety of torments to your nipples and clit, including but not limited to hot wax, vibrators, clamps, needles, chemical irritants, ice, and friction."

He didn't stop, despite the fact that the color had drained from her face.

"Please try to imagine that, Ms. Carpenter. Imagine being physically restrained permanently for two months with powerful dildos, vibrators, and probes penetrating your body. When you eat, you will be moved to a special chair with vibrators mounted to the seat. When you are too tired to stay awake you will fall asleep with dildos repeatedly moving in and out of your body. You will be constantly fucked. Over and over. When you finish training, which is mandatory, you will be rented to clients who wish to physically abuse women during sex, and while you will not be permanently harmed, you will suffer dramatically. You might be forced to endure multiple orgasms, or be denied them for weeks at a time."

He could see the little movement of her throat as she swallowed.



"And if you fail, resist, or decline to meet the expectations of your employment, you will be punished. Punishments can be as simple as enduring a spanking or having your pussy whipped repeatedly, or having electrodes attached to your clit and nipples and receiving painful shocks. Or punishments can be extreme, with permanent results." He took a deep breath. There was fear in her eyes. Maybe she wasn't the right kind of girl for this.

He pushed the paper across the table and then tossed the pen toward her. "If you are having any doubts or second thoughts, leave now. If you still think you are the right person for this position then sign your name and remove your clothing."

To his astonishment, she smiled and picked up the pen. He took a deep breath as she signed her name and then slid the paper and pen back toward him. She stood up and began undressing, leaving her tee shirt and jeans folded over the back of the chair. Her panties, bra, and socks followed and he stood up, pleased with her appearance and acceptance. He reached under the table and popped the lid off of one of the boxes. He pulled a large level four chastity belt from the container and held it up. The double dildos mounted on the crotch strap were extra large and her eyes widened slightly as he handed it over.

"Your submission starts now."

New Contributor Announcement

Michael Alexander Production is announcing a new contributor to our blog. Our own beloved Breanne has lured a talented writer with a submissive streak to her side. Stay tuned for sordid details, sexual escapades, and actual romance. What will the first assignment be? You'll find out shortly

Another Way to Follow Me.

I'm on facebook now! Michael made me. Okay, he didn't FORCE me, but he made it perfectly clear that he would like me on facebook. What? The blog wasn't enough? I guess not. Oh well...

What's next? Twitter?

I'm easy to find. Just search for Breanne Erickson from Houston!

Love ya!

Bre