Daily Assignment 04-14-10

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Today’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Mark) When it is raining, you will go to the mall and find a place to change into a new outfit. You will wear your high heels, a thin white skirt (any length), and a thin white shirt. No bra or panties. Bring a shopping bag for your regular clothes. Once you have changed, take your regular clothes back out to your car, put them inside, and walk slowly back to the mall. Make sure you are drenched. Walk at least two sections of the mall, then return to your car.

Yesterday’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Brandon) Stinging Nettles. You will proceed out into one of your fields and find a plant called stinging nettle or milkweed. You will cut three leaves from the plant. You will then loosen your clothing so that you can have access to your breasts and pussy. You will place one leaf of the nettle over each nipple. Then you will put the last leaf over your pussy. You must keep them on for at least ten minutes.

I’m going to admit from the very first that I had mixed feelings about this particular assignment. I realize that it was punishment, for what I’m not sure, but since so many people agree I need regular punishment on a daily basis anyway, I really don’t have a leg to stand on for complaints, do I? The real problem with this assignment was botany, specifically “sado-botany” or the act of using a plant for a sexual masochistic or sadistic purpose. I’m going to admit right now that in my past I have never ever been “nettled”. Evidently this is a branch of BDSM that none of my previous masters or mistresses have ever dared to venture, and with good reason. I did a little research on these plants before doing this assignment and some of the stuff I discovered was amazing, alarming, and downright dangerous. Making a mistake with this can be a date with death. If I’m going to die in a sexual escapade, I’d rather be impaled on spit and slow roasted. Or maybe fucked to death…anyway.

Stinging Nettle

We own about five hundred or so acres, so we have a large selection of native Texan plants on our property. Milkweed, which Master Brandon accidentally misidentified as a stinging nettle, is the primary food for Monarch butterfly caterpillars, which makes them poisonous. Milkweed however has been a food staple and general use plant of the Native Americans for centuries. You can make cord out of it. The Cherokee, Iroquois, and Rappahannock used the sap to remove warts, for ringworm, and for bee stings. The Cherokee used the plant as a laxative, an antidote for gravel and dropsy, and an infusion was given for mastitis. The Cherokee took an infusion of the root for venereal diseases. The Chippewa made a cold decoction of common milkweed root and added it to food to produce postpartum milk flow. The Iroquois took an infusion of milkweed leaves for stomach medicine. A compound decoction of plants was taken to prevent hemorrhage after childbirth by the Iroquois. The Menominee ate the buds or a decoction of the root for chest discomfort. The Ojibwa used the root as a female remedy. The Potawatomi used the root for unspecified ailments.

You get the idea, right? Anyway, it was very important for me not make any mistakes. I didn’t want Milkweed. I didn’t want annual pricklepoppy. I didn’t want Musk Thistle (of which we have WAY too much on our farm.) I wanted stinging nettle. So I went out and began searching on horseback, which seemed very sensible.

Musk Thistle. You don't want this between your legs, trust me.

It took me about forty minutes to find what I was looking for. Surprisingly, all sorts of spiny, toxic plants were located within a fifty yard radius. Milkweed was there. Pricklepoppy was in abundance, and there was even a rather large stand of Musk Thistle on a little hillside. I had my thick leather gloves and a pair of cutters and to be honest I examined all of those choices.

Musk Thistle looked evil. The little spiny hairs that contain the toxin (which immediately causes a rash, a burning sensation, and a little numbness) are very long and look diabolical. Annual pricklepoppy can get pretty big and the leaves have these long spines all over them as well. Milkweed is actually the least of the aggressive looking plants. And of course, the stinging nettle is pretty close to milkweed.

I grabbed my gloves and cutters, tethered May (my horse) and went down to do some gardening. Carefully I selected three leaves from the stinging nettles, cut them and then stood up. I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down to my knees, then opened my shirt. I was wearing a bra and panties, just normal white ones. Then, with mixed feelings, I steeled myself, picked up the first leaf, pulled the left cup of my bra out, and pressed the underside (where the most prickles are) to breast, centering it over the areola. Then I let the bra snap back.

I admit the sensation was almost immediate. I felt a tingle that I can only describe as feeling like light pinpricks combined with the reaction you get from suddenly sucking on a sour lemon. I felt my skin tighten as it was injected with the toxins and my nipple hardened instantly. Which pushed even more against the leaf, which released more toxins. By the time I picked up the second leaf I felt as if my left nipple had been through a forty minutes session of acupuncture followed by a lemon juice wash. I was trembling as I put the second leaf in my right bra cup. I moved quickly, afraid that I wasn’t going to be able to handle the third leaf if I didn’t get to it. I grabbed the last bit of foliage and just haphazardly pushed it into my panties.

Now I know why most sado-botanists bind their victims before applying the nettles. I was on all fours in moments, shaking and rocking as the heat and sting ate into me. However, just as the sting between my legs reached its maximum heat, I realized that my left breast was throbbing and quieting down. Soon my right breast subsided into quiet pulses and then even the heat between my legs died down.

Evidently, the small amount of toxin the plant contains are held in little glass like sheaths that are broken when touched. This releases the poison which is then absorbed through the skin. There are only so many hairs to break, and thus only so much poison, so one leaf only last so long. Also, I discovered that many girls have differing levels of sensitivity. I seem to be relatively immune to the long term effects of the stinging nettle. I stood up and pulled my bra away from my chest, tugging the nettle leaves out. Then I examined my nipples. Both were red and tender and I could tell that there were quite a few little bumps, as if I had a rash, or hives. Oddly, my nipples itched, which was definitely a weird sensation. Then I pulled my panties down. The leaf was actually jammed between my labia and had curled over my clit, so I was much more tender down there than usual. Again, little red bumps were barely noticeable, but extended much farther and my clit was swollen to almost twice its usual size.

I tossed the leaves away. To be honest, it wasn’t much worse than screwing with IcyHot as a lubricant. There was the immediate rush, but then it died down and I was pretty sure the hives would disappear in an hour or so. It was actually kind of disappointing. Also, I conceded that the whole thing would have been better if I had been stuffed with vibroballs too.

I’ll be honest. I almost cut a few leaves of pricklypoppy, clearly intending to stuff those down my panties and into my bra, but I chickened out. I’m not sure what the poison will do to me and I didn’t have the guts to find out. So, still tingling a bit, still itching, I put my clothing back in place and rode back to the barn.

Pricklypoppy

I was uncomfortable for hours. The hives faded pretty quick, but it didn’t stop the irritation caused by the nettles. It was minor and I could kind of ignore it, but it was present, a little reminder that not all my assignments are about orgasm. As I once was reminded, a pain slut really only as one purpose: to hurt.

Ouch.

Breanne's Toybox

I'm pleased to announce a new section of Michael Alexander Stories: Breanne's Toybox. Take some time to explore a little deeper into the perverted, slightly masochistic, and deviant lifestyle of our favorite, self-styled nympho humiliation pain slut. Read her short story: The Party, dig through her toybox and discover what penetrative delights are tucked into the corners, read the Daily Assignment Archive!

Okay, now that I've got that advertisement in place, just a few comments. First of all, Breanne's Toybox is still FREE, and right now I'm intending for it to remain that way. So don't worry about losing your daily dose of Breanne. Second, Breanne will still be posting her daily assignments on the blog. We will be removing them over time to the Daily Assignment Archive over at her website. As more material becomes available, I will post them in Breanne's Toybox.

Of course, eventually the idea is to make some money off this. I'm almost finished with a new Breanne novel, entitled the trip. This will be a serial novel available through the main website's store. The first chapter will be free of course...just to whet your appetite and see what trouble Breanne gets into next!

Please remember that I am a novice website designer and I'm learning. This is only the second site I've built, and while it is dramatically better than the original Michael Alexander Stories website, it's still a work in progress. But hey, anything you get for free is worth what you pay for it, right?

So take a moment to dig around in Bre's ToyBox. Find something fun and see what she does with it. I'm constantly amazed. I'm sure you will be too!

Daily Assignment 04-14-10

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Today’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Brandon) Stinging Nettles. You will proceed out into one of your fields and find a plant called stinging nettle or milkweed. You will cut three leaves from the plant. You will then loosen your clothing so that you can have access to your breasts and pussy. You will place one leaf of the nettle over each nipple. Then you will put the last leaf over your pussy. You must keep them on for at least ten minutes.

Yesterday’s Assignment: (Assigned by Mistress Ellen) Proceed to your stripping spot and then return to your vehicle wearing nothing but your duster and high heels. Place a vibrator in the pocket of your duster. Drive across town to the Lube Service station and explain to the attendant that you felt the desire to strip naked in the park and that you now require a lube job. Hold up the vibrator as you explain this. If they offer to lube you up, accept whatever "help" or "lube" they provide. Masturbate, but do not cum, for anyone who cares to watch. If you are asked to provide blowjobs, do your best, but you do not have to fuck anyone unless you want too.

breannefun: then we'll go ahead and do a through lube job...
robertcalk: pulls it out for your inspection
breannefun: test tensile strengths
robertcalk: yeah baby that’s great
robertcalk: ah hah
breannefun: check the hydraulic pressure...
robertcalk: good
breannefun: check for cracking and maneuverability.
robertcalk: smiles
breannefun: Then we will drain the system of all the toxins and unneeded fluids.
robertcalk: ah hah, sounds exciting indeed

I couldn’t resist posting that. A long time ago, (okay like two years, but when you’re only 24 that’s a long time ago!) when I was a working girl at Lady Anne’s Brothel, I remember enticing a customer with a little bit of automotive sex talk. The puns just wouldn’t stop. Well, okay they eventually did when I exhausted my entire knowledge of automobile workings. Of course, I know more than the usual girl. When you grow up working on tractor engines and doing the maintenance yourself, you learn a bit. Lady Anne’s was a fun role play sex chat room, which is still kind of in existence, though it’s turned into more of a social club than a place for girls and guys to indulge in cyber-sex. Besides, TYPING is a little old school isn’t it? I used to sit at the computer with a vibrator rammed up in me, occasionally fingering my clit between typing sentences. And I confess, sometimes what the “client” wanted was so routine that I just wrote up some stock sentences and cut and paste. Sigh…Oh well.

So yesterday I set out around 1 o’clock to get “a lube job”. Technically this is when a competent mechanic lubricates the chassis and suspension of your car or truck, changes the oil, and checks the other important fluids that make your car work properly. I’ve been changing oil and “greasing” chassis frames on our tractor for years. It’s messy, but no big deal. Same thing with changing oil. I haven’t “paid” someone to change the oil on my Saturn since I bought the thing, much less in Dad’s truck. That said, it WAS time to do an oil change on the truck, so I headed across town.

The first thing I need to say here is that Michael changed this assignment slightly. I got an email two days ago saying that I had violated security again. Damn. So I got sent to a random mechanic’s shop. Since Michael actually used to live in Houston, and not to far away from me at that, he recommended a decent shop for me to visit.

I hopped in my truck wearing my usual. I had been working out in the fields that day taking care of a few things, so I was in my work outfit. Mountain boots, white tube socks, blue jeans, white cotton panties, a blue button up short sleeve shirt, and a pretty tame white bra underneath. I managed to sneak my vibrator, duster, and high heels into the truck and headed out. I drove to my new stripping spot, which is a little busier than the country road behind our farm, but not as um…awkward… as the gazebo at Thomas Park. I pulled over to the side of the road, grabbed my duster and high heels, and got out and moved to the front of the truck.

It occurred to me as I was taking off my shirt that Mistress Ellen wanted me at the front of the truck because it would appear I was having mechanical problems, and ENCOURAGE people to slow down and check me out. Seriously, if you saw a truck with a girl standing in front of it, or even a guy, wouldn’t you slow down to see if they needed help? And what if that girl happened to be naked, or in a state of semi-undress?

I hadn’t even got my shirt unbuttoned all the way before there was a car slowing down.

“You okay, Miss?” A nice voice called out to me. I turned and smiled.

“Just changing! I’m fine! Thank you!” I said sweetly. My shirt was open all down the front and I’m sure my bra was more than visible.

“Okay!” And he drove off.

Uh…okay. I turned back to my truck and got my shirt off. I folded it neatly and put it on the hood of the truck and then unlaced my boots. I managed to get those off, and then shucked out of my jeans. I folded those standing there in just my bra, panties, and socks when I heard another car. This one was coming from behind me so I just swallowed hard and ignored it. I didn’t hear the brakes, but I heard the engine slow and I reached behind my back and released the clip on my bra. The car rolled past me just as I pulled my bra off, freeing my breasts and I had a glimpse of a shocked but delighted expression before the car sped back up and disappeared around a curve.

My panties came next and I pushed them to the ground, stepped out of them, and then folded them neatly. Then I grabbed my high heels, strapped my feet in, and slipped into my duster. Thus prepared, I gathered my clothing, moved back to the cab, and went for a drive.

It took maybe twenty or thirty minutes to get to the address that Michael provided. It was a private place, rather than one of those national over-priced business that charge you a bunch of extra fees and tries to tell you about a host of other problems when you bring your car in. I can deal with thirty dollars for an oil change, but when they tack on an extra thirty bucks for “synthetic oil” I blow a gasket. It’s about a dollar more expensive than regular oil. I mean sure, you can find eight dollar quarts here or there, but that’s for like super stuff. Beware…change your oil yourself if you can. If you can’t…either learn or bring me your car. I’ll do it for you provided you are cute, like spanking naughty nympho humiliation pain sluts, and have a nine inch cock.

What was I saying? Oh yeah. I pulled up to the workshop and was delighted to find it was kind of empty. Oh they had two cars in the garage, but two bays were open and I stopped in front of one of the empty doors that had a sign above it that said “oil change.” In seconds a nice grizzled gray haired guy with glasses came out, stepped up to the window and asked me the line I always love to hear.

“What can I do for you, Miss?”

Then his eyes popped out of his head, fell to the ground, and he spent a few minutes retrieving them from under my truck. Okay, not really, but since my duster was wide open, with both breasts fully exposed, not to mention my pussy, since my legs were spread a bit, he certainly got an eyeful.

I pulled my vibrator out of my pocket and held it up right in front of his face. “Well, to be totally honest, I’ve got two issues. First of all, my truck needs a lube job. Oil change, chassis lubrication, and fluid check. And second, I’m terribly in need of a lube job myself. My piston” and I wiggled the vibrator, “seems to be sticking a bit. Can you help?”

My god, you think I’d asked him to dance naked in a fire ring or something. Then he looked at me suspiciously.

“Is this some sort of joke?” He looked around for the cameras. Sigh…you’d be surprised how often I get asked this.

I shook my head. “No joke. No cameras. Just a naked girl wanting a lube job. Now can I get serviced or not?”

In a Dilbert cartoon I once read, the Pointy Haired Boss coughed up his skull with a little “ploink”. That was the sound this guy made. Then his expression changed and he shrugged.

“All right, Miss. Just leave your keys in the truck and come with me.”

I did as ordered, which is what I really do best, stepped out of my truck, all the while closing my duster. I didn’t button it. I just tied the sash closed. Then I followed the grizzly gray haired guy into the shop. He didn’t lead me to the waiting room, which was at the far end enclosed in glass, probably outfitted with an old television showing daytime soaps or infomercials, or worse: CNN. Nope I got lead the OTHER way, and found myself following him to a dark cool concrete staircase that lead down.

Wow. It’s a whole other world under there. I had no idea! I found myself in a very cluttered but organized cave, illuminated by a few lights. Three steel grates covered long rectangular openings in the ceiling and in the farthest bay I could see a man standing on a raised platform draining something from the underside of a car. I was lead to an old metal folding chair which was sandwiched between two racks of motor oil bottles and told to take a seat. I did, letting my duster fall open again. I sat very in a very un-ladylike position, with my knees spread and my legs to either side of the chair.

My guide moved away for a moment and went and spoke quietly to the other guy, whose head jerked and looked down toward me. I saw a huge grin. He was Hispanic, with a little pencil mustache and he was a little small. That didn’t bother me though. His blue coveralls were actually pretty clean, though I could see a few oil smears on him. There was a hurried discussion and then a shrug. My guide came back with a smile.

“We’ll be with you shortly. I’ll get your truck service started as well.” Then he disappeared back up the stairwell. I nodded and then sat there for about four or five minutes. I was wet, I admit that, so I entertained myself by doing a little light masturbation. Nothing serious, just some finger rubbing. I also took off my duster and draped it over the back of the chair. I heard my truck being started and some of the light filtering in from above disappeared. After a little while my guide showed back up, a bottle of brake fluid in his hand. I noticed it was something called silicone brake fluid, DOT 5, whatever that means, but he looked pretty serious. He came right up to me and settled down on his knees between my legs.

“All right miss, lets go ahead and get started.” He said softly. My pussy was totally exposed right in front of his eyes and he reached over to the shelf beside me and grabbed a drain pan. This was put between my legs, right under me and then he uncapped the bottle, lifted it up, and pour a generous amount of the fluid right on my clit.

I jumped a little. It was cold. It dripped down in what I can only describe as an oily slick. I could feel it seeping through my petals and even into me. Then his right hand was at my pussy, his thumb and fingers forming a penetrative probe. I moved in my chair, opening up a bit more, presenting as I felt him push all five digits into my pussy, working them in, spreading the fluid around. I couldn’t help thrusting back, my hips were churning and I gasped, my legs coming up in response to the fingering I was getting.

I knew what he wanted to do. It was fairly obvious from how he was holding his hand. Kari used to do it to me a lot, but I admit it’s been a while since I was fisted. But I suppose all the weird things I’ve been doing over the last several months prepared me better than I though. It only took him maybe five minutes to work his entire hand in, making me gasp as the widest part of his palm forced me open. Even better, he was good at fisting, working his fingers like a pianist inside me, clenching and wiggling and swirling. And he pumped me too. He would pull until I thought his hand was about to pop out and then he would let my muscles contract around him until I sucked him back in.

But it wasn’t until his other hand began working my clit that I came. And it was pretty loud too. The brake fluid made a totally acceptable lubricant and I shuddered and cried out in bliss as I popped. Would you believe I actually endured a series of tremors, actual spasms for almost a minute or two after I came? It was totally cool. Then my mechanic slowly pulled his hand free of my pussy, letting a massive pool of goo and silicone fluid puddle in the drain pan. A somewhat clean rag wiped me off, but didn’t clean me out, and then he was standing.

He pulled me to my feet and then turned me around and pushed me back down to the chair. My knees straddled the pan and I found myself bent over. I heard the zip of pants being loosened and then I felt cock being pressed into my pussy. His body pushed against mine as my breasts hung down, the nipples grazing the body warmed metal of the chair. I gasped as he went in easily, perfectly, quickly, and tried tightening as he fucked me enthusiastically. Unfortunately, DOT 5 silicone brake fluid is too good of a lubricator, because screwing me was like trying to fuck a bucket of water. There needs to a be a little bit of friction. I was too loose.

Duh. Maybe you should have dick fucked me first, before fist fucking me.

Evidently he came to the same realization, but had a perfect solution, one that hadn’t actually occurred to me. He pulled out, and before I could voice an objection, rammed his oiled cock into my ass.

Now there was plenty of friction, despite the brake fluid coating his cock and my button. I groaned as he ass fucked me, wincing when he went especially deep. A pair of still greasy hands came up and cupped my breasts, squeezing them, pinching the nipples, and I admit I felt a renewed surge of sexual tension rushing through me. That’s when I discovered another cock, and it was right in my face! Evidently the other mechanic, the Hispanic guy had come over, and stuck his verga between my eyes. I did what any self-respecting nympho humiliation pain slut would do. I opened my mouth. With one hand on his balls and the other wrapped around the base of his cock, I checked the tensile strength of his hose, worked on his hydraulic pressure, examined it for cracking and maneuverability, and then went to work draining the system of all toxins and unneeded fluids.

Well gosh, all I needed was another guy under me for me to ride and this would have been perfect. But perfection isn’t everything. While I sucked off the Hispanic mechanic, the grizzly haired guy finished behind me, adding what I’m sure was a decent amount of sperm into the lubricate tunnel of my ass. He moved off, wiping himself clean and then the cock in my mouth was gone and he moved around to my rear end. I felt him push into my pussy and we had a repeat of too much lubrication and not enough friction. When he pulled out, I tried to relax, readying myself for the up and coming anal intrusion, but instead the Hispanic began pulling a few items off the shelf and the next thing I knew I felt something hard and wrapped in rags being rammed into my sopping pussy.

I groaned as he swirled the rag covered rod inside me, then pulled it out, dropping it with a disgusting wet smack into the drain pan. Then his cock was back inside me and I felt the necessary friction. Oh sure, I was still thoroughly lubed, but the rapid pumping was quickly bringing me to a second climax.

He came before I did and I moaned in frustration, but I was not disappointed. Evidently the first guy had gone back upstairs and gotten the last mechanic on duty who had been relieved long enough to be sent downstairs to assist with my lube job. He was a young white guy who was a little rough and tumble, but still a hunk, and I got a pretty good luck when he stepped up to the plate.

But unlike the other two, he pulled me too my feet, kicked the drain pan out of the way, and deposited me on my back right on the concrete floor. It was decidedly uncomfortable, but when he literally kicked my legs apart I felt a surge of submissive fear and spread myself open. I watched him remove his coveralls and boxers, exposing a massive cock.

He finger fucked me first with dirty hands, and he spanked my pussy, smacking my clit over and over until I was letting out little cries as my hips bounced up and down. Then he hit my breasts, forcing them back and forth. He talked the entire time too, calling me names like whore, bitch, slut, cunt, pussy and a bunch more that I can’t even remember. He said things like “you like it rough, don’t you cunt?” and “how ‘bout I slap the shit out of your tits?”

I may be a nympho humiliation pain slut, and I may be an occasional whore. I know I can be bitchy, and I’m certainly a slut and have a cunt or pussy, depending on the crudity you prefer. But beneath all of that I am still a lady. And despite the massive sexual stimulation I was enduring, I looked up at him with an angry glare, reached over and grabbed his cock.

“Is calling me dirty names the best you can do, or can you actually use this thing?” I said, my eyes narrowing. I gave him a hard squeeze and then casually smacked his dong. I admit, I thought about saying no. Rolling over and moving away. Both of the other guys were still there and I’m sure they would have stopped Mongo from doing anything to me that I didn’t want.

But I confess I wanted that cock. I was still horny and it was really big. Hey, size does matter.

Pain exploded in my left breast and seemed to travel across to my right side. Mongo had gone ahead and smacked my tits hard enough to literally turn me and then he was on top of me, pushing me down, hands grabbing my breasts. Then I felt his cock push into me and I gasped. It was huge. It felt incredible. I pumped, I thrust upward, I moaned, I closed my eyes, and then I said the magic words.

“Oh GOD YES FUCK ME!”

It’s amazing what those words can do to a man. It renews his spirit, gives him motivation and energy. It encourages him to do his best. Mongo rammed all nine inches into me and it was like having my own Husky Dildo animated with all the bells and whistles attached. He smelled like oil and grease but it didn’t matter, all I knew was that I was getting screwed silly.

And then the lummox came. Shit. He came and pulled out, grunting while I was still going nuts with need. Damn it! I laid there gasping, saying “no no no no no” over and over while Mongo stood up, pulled his trousers and boxers back into position and walked away. I was left lying in my own pile of goo, my body smeared with black grease, oil, and the amber remnants of the brake fluid.



The grizzly haired guy came over and rustled around for a moment back by the chair. Then he tapped my on the shoulder and handed me my vibrator. Thank you. I turned it to maximum and began masturbating, rubbing frantically at my clit as I pumped my vibe in and out. The piston moved easily through the thoroughly lubed cylinder, I can tell you that.

When I came it was like I had never orgasmed before. It was hard, it was powerful, it was very wet and greasy. I got up, ignoring the massive wet spot on the concrete and found some semi-clean rags. I cleaned myself as best I could, retrieved my duster, out it on, buttoned it up, and headed back up the stairs.

My truck was no longer in the shop, instead it was parked out front. I passed the first bay and the Hispanic guy gave me a grin and waved at me. “Muchas gracias la concha!” Mongo gave me a leering grin and pumped his hips once in a Michael Jackson sort of way, except without the pedophilic need for young boys. I crossed over to the glass enclosed waiting room where I found my grizzly gray haired shop manager working at the desk. I stepped up to the counter.

“Your truck is finished.” He said, passing my keys over.

“My purse is in the cab.” I said, realizing that I didn’t even have a credit card on my person.
He laughed. “You paid, don’t you remember.”

I guess the shocked look on my face was funny, because he laughed again.

“Now, you’ll need to bring the truck back next month for another oil change, and we need to do a complete pressure test on your fittings.”

“On my what?”

“Hose fittings.” He replied with an even smile.

Hose fittings? A pressure test? What a load of shit! “And what will that cost me?”

He smiled again. “Same rate as today. We’ll see you in two or three weeks.”

I picked up my keys, gave him a flash of my million watt please fuck me silly with a lug wrench smile and went out to my truck. Would you believe they even washed the windows?

Driving home I took a peek at my body in the full sunlight. I was a messy. Grease, dirt, dust, oil, not to mention a still liberal amount of brake fluid coated my body. It almost made me want to head over to the car cleaning place! Instead I headed for home. I snuck out to the barn where some warm water and a squeeze can filled with orange pumice soap waited.

I’m never changing my car or truck oil again.

Daily Assignment 04-13-10

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Daily Assignment 04-12-10

Monday, April 12, 2010

Today’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Benedictine) Drive your truck to the mall parking lot. You will climb into the bed of the truck and lay down. Remove all of your clothing. Masturbate in the bed of the truck, face up, until you orgasm. Do not, for any reason, sit up or look around. When you are finished, get dressed and leave.

Special Weekend Assignment:

(Assigned by Master Mark) On Saturday or Sunday drive around town until you find a partially constructed house. It needs to at least have the main kitchen cabinets installed. Once inside, you will strip naked and proceed to masturbate in every single room of the house. To qualify as a room, the area must be called by a different name. (For example, if the dining room and the living room are combined into one large room, you must masturbate in both, since the dining room is called something separate.) You may bring any assortment of toys or lubricants in order to help facilitate this. You must also bring an envelope, paper, and pen. When you are finished, you will write a letter addressed to “New Owner”, informing them of what you have done, a contact email, and an offer to “repeat” the entire escapade for them in person if they so desire.

I wasn’t sure if I would get a chance to do this assignment this weekend, but the truth is that my medical excuse for taking a week off dried up late Saturday afternoon. With that fact firmly in mind I logged on to my computer, put a vibrator up between my legs, and spent a few moments chatting with one of my online doms, Master Mark. The result of our banter was a special weekend assignment, a weekend assignment like no other I’ve ever had.

And you know, it figures I would get an assignment like this during a recession and a housing crisis. House prices have either fallen or stayed static and house builders have been laying off people left and right since no one is buying NEW HOUSES. Now I'm not exactly in the market for a house, but this assignment had me looking for a very specific house: a house in a semi-finished state. Do you have any idea how hard this was too find? Worse, I ended up in the three hundred thousand dollar range before I found a half-completed house that was unlocked! Do you have ANY idea how much fucking house that is? The place was huge! Ridiculously huge, as in “let's hire a cleaning company to keep the place sparkling because I don't want to waste that much time doing it” huge.

On Sunday afternoon I drove away from my farm under the excuse of going to visit friends. I was wearing some pretty typical stuff: flip flops (okay not so typical but they felt nice and were a decent change from my regular boots ), a pair of khaki short shorts, a white bikini cut pair of panties, a blue tee shirt, and a white lace bra. Like I said, pretty normal for a girl my age, though definitely not my usual work attire. In any event I was wearing my hair down...figuratively since my hair is cut short now. I headed out to a location southeast of my town, where I knew there was some development under way. I hadn't been out there recently, but figured I had a pretty good chance of finding the required house pretty quick.



I was wrong. Over an hour of driving and four actual foot investigations left me no options. Finally I moved toward the more expensive side of the development and found what I was looking for about thirty minutes later. Well, okay, not exactly what I was looking for. I WAS looking for a nice 1200 square foot two bedroom two bath house with garage. I ended up with a four bedroom, three bath, with garage, and one extra living space. Master Mark made it very clear that if I would call an area by a different name than I would a connected area, then it was to be considered a room.



So after a cursory walk through of the house I did some quick calculations.

4 bedrooms
3 bathrooms
2 walk in closets
1 Pantry
1 Living Room
1 Kitchen
1 Dining Area
1 Front Sitting room
1 Garage
1 Utility Room
2 Hallways
1 Stairwell

That made a grand total of 19 orgasms. I almost fainted right there. That happens to be a lot of masturbation. Now, to be honest, I brought a bag with me just in case something like this happened, but I wasn't expecting to have to fuck in nineteen different rooms with a complete orgasm in each one. I thought about going back to the car and looking for a different house, but it was already 2:30 and I was worried I still wouldn’t find something. So with a shake of my head I went back out to my car, grabbed my bag, and returned to the scene of my up and coming crime.

I entered through the garage. It was open and on the side of the house. Fortunately there weren’t any houses in the adjacent lots and I had actually parked my car pretty far down the road by four houses that were finished and looked occupied. I didn't want some nosy police officer wondering if I was in the half finished residence. I stepped into the garage and moved to the very center of the room. The place was still big and littered with wood remnants, some buckets of something, a stack of drywall, some nails, and the other debris that comes from building a house. I cleared a space with my foot and stepped out of my flip flops. Then I shucked my shorts, shirt, bra, and panties and left them lying on one of the spare planks lying on the floor nearby. So stark naked, I got out a large towel (I like to come prepared), spread it on the concrete floor, and pulled a vibrator out of my bag.

To be honest, this first orgasm didn't exactly take long. Maybe five or ten minutes. I didn't time myself actually. All I know is that I managed to get to the edge of towel as I squirted a bit of pussy juice onto the concrete slab. Heart thumping from the exposure (there wasn't a garage door you know) and threat of discovery, I stood up, slipped back into my flip flops, and with my bag moved to the next room: the utility room. It took a lot of mental willpower to leave my clothes there in the garage, but I did it.

There was a door between the garage and the utility room and I would have locked it, except it didn't have a door knob much less a lock. So I just closed it tightly, spread out my towel and sat down with my legs open and my back to the door. Then I started my next masturbation session. For this one, I choose my clit stimulator vibrator, which is a pretty long one with this extra arm that goes along the front of your pussy and stimulates your clit at the same time it’s buzzing inside you. I admit, masturbating here was kind of fun. It was semi-dark, a little sneaky, and cool, making my skin prickle. I guess there is also something about being naked in places you really aren't supposed to. I've always gotten a little turned on by being naked outdoors, or in public, and even in the relative privacy of a half built home, I shouldn't have been doing what I was doing. It made me nervous, which in turn caused the pussy juice to flow. The nice thing about the clit stimulation vibrator is that it makes me cum pretty quick, and despite the fact I had just experienced the release of sexual tension, it took me only about the same amount of time to do it again.

The small bathroom was next and I sat on the toilet for this session. I was starting to get a little desensitized and it took me almost a full fifteen minutes to build up the necessary sexual energy to bring myself to climax. I was also only using a dildo, my Husky dildo actually, slowly pumping it in and out while I slumped against the tank. It wasn't very comfortable and I resolved to do all the rest of my masturbation horizontal if possible. Another five minutes later I rammed the Husky dildo in hard as my left hand frantically rubbed at my clit. That's when I popped, yanking the dildo out and sending a spraying squirt across the drywall partition in front of me. Right on target!

It took a few moments to recover, maybe another five whole minutes to clean up, put my Husky away, and move on. I stepped into a sort of crossroads. To my left was the second smaller master bedroom, complete with a second master bath and walk in closet. To my front was an entry into the kitchen, and to my right was a long hallway that lead to the front door, stairwell, and great room. Also to the right, at an angle was the door to the front sitting room. I went left. Clockwise.

Having two Master Bedrooms would no doubt be awesome, but I suspect that a future family will use this second room as a game room, or family room, or den or something. I doubt it will end up as a bedroom, but hey, I could be wrong. I spread out my towel in the middle of the floor and dug carefully through my bag looking for something a little more exciting that would turn me on. You see, by now, I was a getting a little worn, tender, and not so ready to just immediately begin rubbing at myself. I needed some buildup and I had brought buildup with me, though I admit not as much as I ended up needing.

So out came my vibroballs and a bag of clothespins. First I put in the vibroballs and got them going on high. Since my clit wasn't being directly stimulated, this wasn't bad at all. In fact, it felt kinda nice, especially after the Husky Dildo. Then I laid back and opened my bag of clothespins. Then I started counting. Now, no doubt you are wondering why I was counting. Well, sexual tension buildup is an art form. Usually other people are doing it to me, but I've done it enough times to know how it works. When I got to fifty, I took a clothespin and quickly put it directly on my left nipple, straight on. This hurt of course, but it also sent a spark down between my legs. I started counting again as my fingers found another clothespin. When I said fifty for the second time my hand went to my right breast and attached a clothespin there. Now both nipples were firmly clamped. I grabbed another wooden toothed monster and began counting again. The next one got attached to my left labia, pretty far down. I did this five more times until my pussy looked like a clothesline. My fingers clutched the next clothespin as I counted up. By now I was shaking. Sexual tension was rippling through me and when I hit forty nine and raised my hand, I almost climaxed. But it wasn't until maybe a minute after I pinched my clit between the wooden edges of the clamp that I exploded, sending another squirt out over the concrete floor. I shook as I came, my thighs trembling, starting to close and then opening again. It was very intense.

And then it was over. I slowly removed the clothespins, starting on my nipples and saving my clit for last. Blood rushed back into the nubs of my breasts as I took them off and to be honest, I felt that urge again. I knew it wouldn't be as hard to orgasm next time, which was something of a relief. Finally I had all the clothespins off and was already wanting another screwing. I guess it was the throbbing in my clit. In fact I'm sure it was. Nothing encourages a pain slut more than her clit throbbing. So I gathered my belongings and moved into the 2nd master bathroom.

What an interesting bathroom! A shower and tub were right in front of me with a long two sink vanity that bordered the wall between the bathroom and the bedroom. The toilet was stuck around the corner and the door to the walk in closet was to my immediate left. The whole thing was casually stuck between the 2nd master bedroom, the garage, and the utility room. The tub was the cleanest thing in the place and I couldn't help twisting the faucet to see if there was water. There wasn't. Oh well. It would have been pretty awesome to climb into that tub, slide down it and put my legs up the wall so that my pussy was directly under the spigot and then turn it on to maximum. Of course it would have been really cold water since the place didn't have electricity, so I guess that was actually a good thing.

But I still climbed into the tub. My towel made a nice barrier between the cold acrylic and my skin and I kind of laid back, put my legs up on the sides and very calmly and rationally fingered myself. Yep, the slow, “easy girl without toys” method. I was already soaked, slightly wanton, certainly naughty, very bad, and probably in need of punishment, but I spent a beautiful twenty or so minutes slowly bringing myself up, pinching my clit, my nipples, all while working my slit over and over. It was sweet. It was beautiful. And it was kinda boring.

Yep, boring. Oh sure, I came. But it was mechanical and left me dissatisfied. I'm into extremes, not your standard “girl in the bathroom, white and pink laced, hetrosexual virgin, who hasn't even had the courage to fuck herself with a hair brush” kind of fuck. I want to be TIED UP in the bathtub while evil and creative people point water picks at my clit and nipples, with me spread open and unable to do anything but beg and plead and moan and cum. So that's what I daydreamed about but the masturbation was still boring.

After giving the tub its very first taste of real moisture, I rose, got out, and moved into the walk in closet. Wow. I wish my closet at home looked like that! The builders had installed metal plastic coated shelves along both sides of the closet. Each side had a top shelf I could barely reach, one side had a middle shelf, and all three stretched the entire length of the closet. It was in here that my creative brilliance reached its peak. I grabbed my bag and pulled out the items I would need to make this work.

First of all, I grabbed my vibrator. This part was important. Next I got out my ankle and wrist cuffs. Originally I’m not sure why I brought these, but hey, you never know when you need to be cuffed right? My cuffs are padded foam and plastic affairs that while relatively decent at incapacitating a willing victim, do very little to restrain someone who WANTS to be free. Next I pulled out three thick red votive candles. To measure things out, I actually got down on the dusty concrete, making an imprint of my naked body. It wasn't really obvious what the imprint was, just some butt cheeks, but I knew and I was able to figure out where the candles needed to go. I laid them on the middle shelf, their curved edges sitting between two of the many wire slats that made up the majority of the shelf surface. It was immediately apparent that each candle would melt and drip downward through the shelf and onto the concrete below.

My last item was a little bottle of baby oil and I quickly rubbed in a good amount on both my pussy and my tits. I put in the vibe, cranked it to high, and then bent down and got my ankle cuffs connected. Then I connected the wrist cuffs, which made things much more complicated. Then I spread out my towel under the shelf, sat down underneath my candles and reached up with my lighter, both arms stretching.

The first drops to hit me actually scored on my thigh, and then my stomach. Not an auspicious start. But I was already buzzing and I managed to get positioned properly with only a few burning drops landing off target. I did a little scooting and then managed to be in the right place at just the right time.

My clit suddenly exploded in heat and pain as the drop landed right where it was supposed to. This was followed almost immediately by matching splatters on both nipples. My hips rocked as the vibrator translated the surge of painful heat into wetness and I began clenching and tightening, my thighs holding in the plastic buzzing cock. More drops fell and my entire body just seemed to soak up the heat, channeling it into the bonfire between my legs. Consciously I kept my knees together, but it was starting to get harder to keep my arms above my head and my wrists bound. I could feel the urge, the compulsion, to cover my breasts. This was my first ever attempt at self waxing and it became readily apparent that for Breanne Erikson, being tied down without the ability to roll, cover, or free herself was definitely required.



I covered my breasts, only to burn my arms. More wax spilled onto my pussy, with rivulets running down my petals. I reached down with both hands, pulling at the wrist cuffs. This caused my breasts to plump nicely, cracking the cooling shards of wax on my nipples and knocking them free, enabling the next few drops to singe my freshly exposed nipples. My fingers scrambled for my vibrator and then I was mashing it into my pussy, pulling it out and breaking runs of wax. My clit was on fire but it felt incredible and I orgasmed with power and force. Pleasure washed through me like a breath of fresh air, so completely erasing the pain and discomfort of the hot wax that I just laid there for over a minute, letting even more fall upon my scaled skin. When the heat began to get to me again I rolled out from under the candles, tugged my towel out and the fumbled with the clasps on my wrists. When those were undone I freed unclasped my ankles and then gathered my stuff, including my candles, blowing them out and leaving me in the semi darkness. Red wax was every where and I felt slightly guilty about the clean up that would be necessary.

Back in the second master bedroom I spent some time cleaning myself of wax drippings. The few that fell on un-oiled spots were a bit difficult to get off, but I managed. The cool part was that I also managed to get one of the wax molds off my breasts and the one showing half my pussy off without breaking them. I doubted anyone cleaning up in there would recognize them for what they were, but I left them sitting on a box. Who knows, it might make some poor construction worker's day! I decided to leave the ankle and wrist cuffs on because they looked sexy and they usually turn me on.

Anyway, five minutes later I was in the hall where I could turn right and do the front sitting room, turn left and do the kitchen, or head toward the living room and foyer. Then it hit me. Foyer. Oh shit. That wasn't on my initial list. Master Mark made it very clear that if I called an area by a different name, then I had to masturbate in it. Twenty. Now I was up to twenty! Oh my God! With a sigh I stepped up to the front sitting room door, a glass paneled door covered with a long strip of brown paper for safety, and stepped into the room.

It was almost all glass. It curved around so that it was sort of like a quarter of a circle, with the curved wall facing the street nothing but paned glass windows. Each was clear as day, totally exposing the contents of the room: one naked girl with a canvas bag and a towel, wearing nothing but flip flops. On the flip side, there wasn't anyone outside. But this close to the road, it wasn't inconceivable that a passing motorist could see into the house and say "hey. Wow. There was a naked chick wearing bondage cuffs back there in that house."

So I resolved to masturbate as quickly as possible, lying on the ground. The problem with that idea was that this would be my seventh orgasm. I was a bit tired, a little tender, and definitely not feeling any sexual tension or urges. I had pretty much fucked all of that out of my system. I must have spent ten minutes racking my brains, a finger gently caressing my clit until it occurred to me that the stimulating factor might just be the windows. Suddenly a new surge of wetness exploded through my fingertips and a soft pinch to my clit made my hips pump. Eschewing my towel, I moved up to the windows, grabbed my vibrator and a few clothespins, and went to work.

My toys got put on the low window sill and then I pressed my naked body up to the glass. I didn't see any cars or trucks, or even hear anything, but in my mind I pretended that one would drive by at any moment and my job was to make them notice. I began to dance and sway, rubbing my tits and my ass up against the glass. I left little kiss marks that would eventually need to be washed off. As my nipples bounced between the little panes of glass I felt myself become even more aroused and I grabbed hold of the clothespins and began putting them on, moving to a beat that only I heard. I would have done a stripper proud. I moved my ass, I tucked, I rolled, I did the splits, I did everything but climb a pole, and frankly I would have done that if one had been available. In the end I had clothespins on my nipples and clit while I stood splayed in front of the window, ramming a vibrator up and down into my pussy. Can it get any better than this? Yes it can.

A car drove by. I exploded instantly, even though it never slowed down and I could pretty much tell the driver wasn't looking at the houses. It was the suddenness of it, the instant danger of discovery and the rush of adrenaline that added to the experience. I came hard, dripping juices off my hand and on to the windowsill. That would have to do. So I cleaned up ( I brought baby wipes!), stepped away from the window, gathered up my stuff, and went back into the hall, leaving the glass menagerie empty of its prime exhibit.

I moved into the hall. I was tired. I admit it. I was also a bit chilly. The hall was dark, cast in shadows, and it was starting to get late. There wasn't much light. I sat down, the ankle and wrist cuffs clinking and I pulled my towel over me, which I suppose might have been a violation of the assignment orders, but I think could be forgiven under the circumstances. I had already been naked in this house for over two hours. Add in a complete seven orgasms and I began to suspect that this wasn't going to be possible. I thought about calling in reinforcements. Maybe Kari and Robert could come over and work me over in each room. That way all I had to do was take it. But I remembered that they were going out of town.

Ooohhh...poor Robert. That meant riding in the ball box. The ball box was just a simple raised platform that Kari kept on the seat, except it had a hole for a guy's balls in it. Robert would have to squat and he would hold the platform up to his ass as Kari pulled his balls through. Then when they were on the opposite side of the platform from the rest of Robert, she would use a string or a some long piece of rubber to tie them off and keep them there. Then Robert would have to sit down. Now this doesn't really hurt the guy, except when the car hits a bump, but it’s uncomfortable, and Kari likes to keep them that way. Add to the occasional jacking she would give him while they drove, not to mention about a zillion other nasty things she could do to his cock, and going on a road trip with Kari was always difficult for her slaves. I know. I've been on road trips with her. I remember one hellish trip from Houston to New Orleans for Mardi Gras where I spent the entire seven hour drive stuffed with a plug and a vibrator (on high no less), no shirt, clothespins on my nipples, with my hands cuffed behind my back and my knees literally tied to the gear shifter and the door handle. Then, Kari would use a sap and smack my clit hard whenever we saw a semi truck. Oh god…



And would you believe it? Thinking about Robert's balls, not to mention some of the incredible sexual road trips we took when I was her slave girl, was enough to get me started again. Under my towel I gently worked myself into a froth and then let a little wave of orgasm shudder through me a like spurting geyser. It wasn't strong. It wasn't powerful. But it was good. It was just another little loss of control and will power as my body responded to its base carnal instincts. Wet dripping fingers and a decent wetspot did the appropriate markings and I was able to move down to the foyer where the living room, the stairwell, and the hall all met.

Standing there in front of the frosted glass door I took a good look around. The back door was directly opposite the front and I was able to really observe the living area. A large pile of discarded wood was piled in the center of the room, along with a few crates. Suddenly, my subconscious mind saw what was there and realized what it could do. All the parts started coming together as my eyes began selecting parts. Ignoring the foyer, I moved forward into the room and pulled one of the crates away from its partner, testing its strength in the process. Then I began lifting pieces of wood, selecting a few six foot long two by fours that I placed across the top of both crates. I spaced them apart just a bit and then lifted a large four by four piece that had obviously been intended or part of the columns on the front porch. This I turned on its edge and slipped between the two 2x4 pieces. Then I used some of the used binders twine to hold it all together. Know what I had? A makeshift wooden horse.

I imagined myself riding it as I moved back to the foyer. I was wet again, which was a blessing, and I dug in my bag until I found my alligator nipple clamps. In my mind I was playing out the scenario. I imagined myself climbing up on the wood, letting myself down, feeling the heat and bite of the wooden edge digging into my pussy. How long would I be able to handle it? Would I ride it or let myself down? What would happen to me with no master or mistress to force me to continue? Was there a way to force myself to ride it?

I'm not an engineer or anything, but if there had been a way to force myself, I would have found it at that point. The very act of building it, even considering it, brought my poor pussy back to life. And while I sat there in the foyer, legs spread wide again, frantically rubbing at my clit while my vibrator moved in an out, I realized that I had another option as well. The stairway was in front of me and a short banister ended in a finial (which is an ornamental top on a newel, which is the main support for a banister. I looked it up on the internet!) The interesting thing about this finial was that it was a tear drop shape, tapered to a blunt point, radiating out to a full three or four inches before being secured to the newel. Suddenly I could see it all in my mind and the juices spurted out from between my fingers, splattering the floor beneath me.

The stairs were just bare wood and it took me about five minutes to get the right planks from the living room and stack it the way I needed it. When I was done I had raised the level of the bottom step almost twelve inches and had created a foothold in the hall on the other side of the banister that was level with my first one. It took a bit of wood, and would no doubt look very odd to the construction workers coming back to the house, but to me, it was perfect. I climbed the stairs, put my left foot on my raised platform, and then swung my right leg forward and over the filial. Then I basically slid a bit father down the banister until the filial was pressing up against my pussy. It didn't matter that I had just came. The thought of what I was about to do was all the sexual encouragement I needed. I stood on tip toe, lifted my hips, and then straddled the newel and filial and felt the polished and tapered point disappear into my pussy.

I can now say I've fucked a house. Yep. A literal house. How many girls can say that? I could claim just the filial, but it was attached to the house, emphasis on WAS. You see, when I said I wasn't an engineer I was serious, and I did make a bit of a miscalculation during this whole stupid escapade. Evidently my makeshift footstool wasn't intended for the bouncing eccentricities of a crazy nympho pain humiliation slut who was fucking herself stupid on the wooden phallus of a fucking staircase. The my makeshift stepstool wobbled, or slipped or something and I found all my weight crashing down on the filial, which immediately drove itself upward into my cunt with the force of a kicking horse I gasped, my hands going down between my legs as I fell and then the small dowel and bit of glue holding the filial on to the newel broke and I was lying on my side in the dust. To my astonishment, I discovered that my abused pussy could actually fit a three inch wide, four inch high, tapered filial inside it, and I after rubbing a bruised elbow and saying "ow", I grabbed my new makeshift dildo and proceeded to finish what I started.

Ooops. Sorry I broke your house, but honestly, it was shoddy workmanship on the banister anyway. You needed a new one. I’m sure a kid would have broken that in the first ten minutes of living here. (Of course I submit the fact that it wouldn’t have been in the same manner that I broke it.)

After I was done orgasming with the filial I considered keeping it as a memento of my little adventure, but then decided theft wasn't my style. I could always go and buy one just like it at a home improvement store, right? So I threw my extra wood back into the living room, placed the filial on the stairway, gathered up my stuff and flip flopped and cuff clanked my way into the family room.

To be honest, I wasn't so sure about the wooden horse now. I had made similar footstools for my torture session that had me wondering and to be honest, despite checking the makeshift wooden horse, I was a little frightened of getting on it. I bit my lip and turned my back on the living room. I could always come back and use it, or just masturbate like a normal sex slut, right? So I moved on to the dining area. This space was tiled, just like the kitchen and unlike the living room, wasn't being used as a garbage pile. I liked the way the floor felt and I even took off my flip flops to walk on it. Sweet.

Even now, the next day, I'm trying to imagine what I looked like. Naked girl, a little on the thin side, freckles, red/brown hair cut short, wearing nothing but black ankle and wrist cuffs and a pair of flip flops. Now if that isn't a Kodak moment, I don't know what is. You sure don't see that every day! So I stood there for a bit, relaxing, trying to regain my energy for another few romps and I eventually, after maybe another ten minutes, I reluctantly dug the Icy Hot out of my bag.

Now I actually use a different no name brand that is actually water soluble, which makes a hell of a lot more sense to me. But here, with no water available it wasn't going to make much of a difference. I also pulled out my Husky dildo and set him up right in the middle of the floor. Then I opened my tube of cream, gave him a light coating, and then did my nipples. They began to tingle immediately, the scent of menthol filling my nose. I squatted over the Husky Dildo, which looked oddly like it had just jismed, and let the tip touch my clit and lips. Oh my...just as the tingling began to really become a wild burning I let the strength out of my legs and literally fell downward, impaling myself on the dildo and letting the cream cover my petals and seep into my pussy. I gasped, let out a yell as if my hair was on fire and rolled over, my hands clutching at my crotch.

First of all, icy hot cream isn't the most recommended lubricant for sexual gratification. Next imagine having it pounded into you by a nine inch long four inch wide rubber cock that actually hits your pelvis when fully implanted. Those two things combined set me off. I yanked the Husky out of my pussy and rubbed frantically, first trying to make the burning subside, but slowly it became something more tangible. Within a few minutes the heat had become something desirable and I grabbed the Husky again, slipping it up into my slippery hole with a sigh of relief. It felt GOOD to be stuffed. I began working frantically between my legs and then I came again, nothing like my earlier explosions, but with enough tremors and cries that I would have satisfied a jury that I had cum. And if that didn't work, there was always the cream pouring from between my legs.

It took a bit to clean up and I removed the ankle and wrist cuffs at the same time. To be honest, I was getting tired of them. Another five minutes passed as the burning between my legs and on my nipples subsided into oblivion and I finally had the energy to move on. The light was getting dim inside the house. It was after five already and by six pm I realized that there was no way in hell I was going to finish the entire house. It just wasn’t possible.



I moved into the pantry and used my clitoral stimulation vibrator, you know, the one with the little arm attachment that makes the thing look like a saguaro cactus? Well it took a bit of time, and there wasn’t anything special about this masturbation session, but twenty minutes later I had a weak orgasm that dripped a little bit of cream and anointed the pantry floor with my blessing.

I stepped out into the kitchen. Everything was dim and quiet and I just leaned up against the counter, wondering how I was going to do this. If I had found a smaller house, I would probably have been done by now. But technically, counting the kitchen, I still had eight more rooms to masturbate in. It just wasn’t possible.

I’ve been involved with several torture sessions with Kari, where we tied some hapless guy down to a bed and did a particular activity called cock milking. It’s actually simple. You see, one at a time (until the end) each one of use would come in and do everything in our power to make the guy cum. We usually started with blow jobs and hand jobs, eventually moving on to more interesting things like stripping and actual sex. The first few orgasms were never that hard to get and the first hour we usually averaged three. But by the second hour it was much more difficult to get our victim (yes, victim) aroused. It took time and a lot of effort. Lots of stroking. Lots of oil. Sometimes I would even read Michael’s stories to a guy while rubbing him. Eventually, I or Kari would get two orgasms out of a guy during the second hour. After that it was even more difficult. Our record is pretty awesome though. With Jason Parks we managed 15 orgasms in twelve hours and twenty two minutes. He ended up with a swollen cock so red and tender that he cried in pain when we touched him, even with our hands covered in oil. I tried to have sex with him but we couldn’t get him up and after forty minutes of both of us trying, Kari called it quits. He couldn’t masturbate for a week and a half, nor would he let us touch him.

So trying to do a similar thing to myself was just impossible. I mean sure, if I had more time, an opportunity to rest, maybe a partner to hold me down or tie me up or something, sure. But right at that moment? No way.

I abandoned the kitchen as a lost cause and moved back into the living room. In the fading light I examined my makeshift wooden pony and made my decision. There was no way I could complete the assignment this Sunday. So I decided that I would do one more session, one more masturbation, right there in the living room as punishment, and that next Saturday or Sunday I would be back, and I would finish up the house. So despite a very tender and sore pussy, not to mention clit, I moved up to the wooden pony.

The very first thing I did was get out my wrist cuffs again. I knew that I needed to have them on for this to work properly. I wrapped the Velcro padded cuffs around my wrists and then spent a moment trying to get them fastened behind my back. I was eventually successful and I put a foot on one of my makeshift footstools. It wobbled, but I had intended it to do that. I stepped up and swung one leg over the sharp edge of my four by four column, my hands reaching down by my butt, supporting and balancing my weight, until I was able to straddle the wood comfortably, my pussy a full inch or so above the sharp edge. As soon as I was in position I straightened, leaving my hands in the small of my back.

I lowered myself down, knees bending. I’ll be honest. It hurt. It hurt a lot. The edge was a bit more concentrated than I had expected and the beating my pussy had taken even though it was benign, had tenderized it to the point where I wasn’t so sure I could take it. I trembled, moaning. Then my hesitation became moot as the right footstool collapsed, leaving me without any support. Worse, my change in balance knocked the left footstool over as well, leaving me riding my wooden horse, legs splayed wide apart, with my arms tight and my wrists bound behind me. I almost lost my balance.



My toes were a full eight inches or so above the concrete floor and I sat their, pain exploding out from my pussy. I think somewhere in the recesses of my mind I realized that this was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I shuddered, drawing in thick gasps. My legs stretched, toes pointed, trying in vain to find purchase. As I began rocking, riding the wooden beam, all I could think about was having to repeat this ride when the new owners took me up on the assignment’s offer. Would it be a real wooden horse? Would they torture me? Would I get fucked out the wazoo? To be honest, I felt the renewed surge of wetness as the pain and mental stimulation combined. I think I lasted all of five minutes before I managed to pop the plastic clips holding my wrist cuffs together. With my hands free I leaned forward, getting some of my weight off my pussy, but pinching my clit horribly. Then I had a controlled fall as I tried to get off the horse. I ended up on my ass, groaning, but not from the fall, from the burning pain still radiating from between my legs. My bag was within reach and I scrabbled for it, grabbed the first toy I could find and brought the Husky dildo down to my swollen and bruised pussy.

I wish I could say that it went in smoothly, but I know I winced, more pain shooting up from between my legs. The only good part was that it was combined with something more tangible as well. I lay there, working the dildo in and out until finally my sexual needs bubbled forth, working like magma through shattered rock, escaping out in a pyroclastic explosion that spurted forth like molten lava.

Pretty prose yeah? Take that Michael! I can do it too!

It was practically dark. I picked myself off the floor, only glancing at the huge puddle I had left in the middle of the concrete. My makeshift horse was left. We’ll see what the construction guys make of that! I put my towel and my Husky dildo back in my bag and then slowly stumbled my way to the garage.

My clothes were where I left them and I got dressed. I didn’t leave a note. I just left, got back to my truck, and headed for home.

I realize that it’s possible that many of you will think that I’ve violated the rules of my assignment. I guess that’s reasonable. But before you insist I get punished for that, remember how big that house was! I was a victim of the situation! And I’ve also already punished myself for failing to get every room! It’s not every day you see a girl willing subject herself to a wooden horse ride!

But some of you are pretty strict. I know that. So we’ll see what happens. I know I’ll be getting emails… “you naughty girl. You deserve to be punished.”

You know what? Yeah. Yeah I do.