Can I Cum Part 6

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Can I Cum? Part 5

Well, awake as promised. I feel I owe everyone an apology but Tuesday night’s late bedtime did some strange things to my schedule yesterday. Add the fact that I forgot to actually POST made things even weirder. Anyway, sorry for all that. But don’t worry, Master Barrett is making sure that I’m suffering for it.

To be honest, yesterday was actually not that hard. I was so tired from Tuesday that I didn’t get back up until lunch time. And when I did, I wasn’t terribly horny either, despite the fact that I had my husky dildo buried nicely up inside me. I had lunch, wrote out yesterday’s post, went and did a few chores, even rode my horse out to north fields to check on the soy beans. That was the turning point sexually for me. Star’s gait really did strange things to me as the husky dildo worked around inside me. I was soaked by the time I got back to the barn, and about as horny as I possibly could be without having someone pussy whip me.

So I clamped my legs together, went inside, got a change of clothes, and went back to my truck. My pussy was tingling, begging for me to reach down and grab the base of the dildo and just ram it in and out, but I held off. I even stayed in my soaked jeans for the drive, knowing that if I changed into my skirt I’d never be able to keep my hands off the dildo. So instead I drove, concentrating on the road and not on my convulsing pussy or the fact that my hips were doing their own little dance without my say so.

I wasn’t heading anywhere in particular. At least not consciously, but one thing I knew was that I wasn’t going to find a stranger at my farm. I kept my eyes peeled for an appropriate target, but didn’t see anyone right for at least twenty minutes. When I did it was on a back road and I passed his truck and continued down the road for about a mile. Then I stopped. I got out, grabbed my skirt and a pair of fresh panties from the seat beside me, and moved to the front of the truck.



For those of you that have been religious followers, you’ll know that this little ritual has been around since almost the beginning. Mistress Ellen imposed it upon me and I can’t seem to stop. I stood at the front of my truck, facing the hood. Then I kicked off my boots. I ignored my socks and unbuttoned my jeans, which were then pushed down my legs. The entire crotch was soaked. That is so… cool actually. Can you imagine being that turned on? My panties were just as wet and I reeked of sexual need. I folded my jeans, laid them on the hood of the truck and then stripped out of the panties, clenching my spasming pussy around the husky dildo. I grabbed the fresh pair of panties, nice pink ones in fact, and pulled them up, once more applying enough pressure on the base of the husky dildo to keep it up inside me with out continuous kegal exercises.

No one passed me on the road, even as I was getting into my skirt and I shoved my feet back into my boots and grabbed my clothing. I used a pant leg of the jeans to wipe my seat down. It was wet too, which says a lot for my libido. I started the truck up, made a u-turn, and headed back down the road.

He was tall and muscular and he was kneeling in front of one of those huge green boxes. A whole set of tools was scattered around and he was even wearing a nice orange vest. I stopped the truck a bit down the road from him, got out, and started walking toward him. He was one of those guys who are “aware” and noticed me right off the bat, even standing up and giving me a smile. He waited until I was close before greeting me and when he did I felt this little thump in my heart, not to mention between my legs.

“Afternoon, miss. Can I help you?”

Oh can you ever. He was even more handsome in person. A little rugged perhaps, not the same sort of chiseled perfection Kari’s boy toy Robert possesses, but not bad. Not bad at all. His biceps were big and he was wearing a pair of jeans that were tight but not skin tight. I gave him one of my million watt please fuck me while electrifying my nipples smiles and then explained exactly what I needed.

“Hi, my name is Breanne and I’m not allowed to cum unless I get permission from a stranger and I have to do it in under a minute. Would you mind terribly giving me permission? I’ll do it right here.”

We went through the usual clarification questions and then he grinned, shrugged, nodded and said “you go right ahead.” He even checked his watch. How sweet!

I lifted my skirt, leaned against his truck, and pulled down my panties. I admit, his eyes got a little big when I pulled the husky dildo out almost all the way before ramming it back in, but he didn’t say anything. I groaned. This was the first time I had actually personally moved the dildo in and out of my pussy all day and it felt incredible. I pulled it out again slowly, then in, enjoying the sensation of my body being split, stuffed, rammed, speared, impaled, and spitted. Come on! It’s a nine inch long four inch thick rubber cock!

I began pumping a bit more aggressively when my audience suddenly said “thirty seconds”. My pussy clenched around the cock. To be honest, it wasn’t as easy to work myself into an orgasm as it had been with my fingers. My clit just wasn’t getting the same type of stimulation. I started to flick my thumb against my clit but then he was saying “times up.”

I couldn’t believe it. I failed to cum! Oh my god! And I was so close! So very close! My thighs trembled and I almost wailed. I even pushed the dildo in and out a few more times before he stepped up to me and caught my hand. I looked up into those huge brown eyes.

“Breanne. No more. You said you had to do it in under a minute. So what happens now?”

I shook. My voice trembled and I’m not sure I even made sense, but I tried to tell him.

“I’m not allowed to cum unless I find a new stranger to ask permission,” I replied, still shaking. My pussy was squeezing the husky dildo to death.

“What happens if you cum anyway?”

“I get p-p-punished,” I stuttered. He looked intrigued.

“How?”

I explained the process to him. He asked a few other pointed questions, mostly involving the ways I get punished. I just blubbered as I answered him, spilling my guts while my pussy screamed at me to fuck. Fuck anything. Just fuck! My ears were ringing.

“So basically, no matter what I do to you right now, you aren’t allowed to cum? Isn’t that right?” he asked. I nodded. Then he was close, too close, his mouth on mine, one hand mauling my breast underneath my tee shirt while the other moved down between my legs. I melted in his embrace, trapped between his truck and his body. He smelled like hot outdoor summers, of scorched metal, and something else. Probably aftershave. Who knows? His hand found the husky dildo even as his other began pinching my nipple and he drew it out halfway then rammed it back in.

“Don’t cum” he whispered as his mouth came off mine for just a moment. I whimpered. I struggled against him but he held me firm. The dildo came part way out again and then got pushed right back in. I quivered, I quaked. Then he yanked up my shirt, exposing my bare breasts and his hot mouth was on me, sucking, biting, nibbling and it was too much. I was too close. I cried out, my arms wrapping around him as my hips jerked wildly.

And I came. Loudly. Wetly.

I sagged in his arms even as he continued to munch on my breasts and then he was holding me tightly.

“You naughty girl” he said with a chuckle. I shook my head, eyes wet, body emotionally and physically exhausted.

“Slut” I replied. “I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut.” It was an automatic response, one I’m used to giving.

He grinned. “I can tell. So now you have to go home and put in ass plug and wear a crotch rope, right?”

I nodded, still a little dazed. Endorphin highs can do that to you. Much much better than drugs.

“Well before you can do that, get down on your knees missy, and suck me.”

I dropped down as he was unbuckling his jeans and then his hard and swollen cock was in my face. I grabbed hold of it, ignoring the prickling grass on my knees and shins. I kept my thighs together though, trying to keep the dildo in since my panties seemed to have fallen off during the whole masturbation thing and were now around one of my boots.

His cock was clean, hard, and actually quite nice to suck. I did a good job too. Sucking cock isn’t exactly a difficult thing to do, nor does it require a whole lot of mental aptitude, which meant my sex dazed state really didn’t detract from the quality of my oral sex. In about four minutes he was grunting and then he pulled his cock out of my mouth, lifted me up off my knees, and pushed me back over to the truck. He opened the passenger door of the cab, bent me over with my still exposed breasts on the hot vinyl seat, and grabbed the dildo.



I groaned when it came out, especially since he fumbled around behind me. It was almost a minute before his cock was positioned and then I felt him enter me. I stiffened in alarm, saying the word condom a few times, but he patted me on the shoulder and told me he was wearing one. He even showed me the little packet. I relaxed marginally and then he fucked me. Thoroughly. It felt good, even though I wasn’t anywhere near the levels of need I was at before. I felt him stiffen inside me, turning to granite and then there were those little jerks, tremors, indicating that he was spurting his load.

I just laid there as he finished behind me, patting me softly on the rear a few times as he got himself presentable.

“Geeze, you are one good fuck, girl,” he said. He picked up the husky dildo and waved it in the air. “I suppose you have to wear this back to your house?” I nodded, looking over my shoulder, still trying to regain my strength. He grinned and stepped back up to my prostate form and shoved it in. Rather forcefully too. I groaned, my back arching slightly at the aggressive penetration. I clamped down on the dildo and straightened, looking for my panties, but he found them first and very gentlemanly helped me into them. Once he pulled them up, the crotch oddly distended thanks to the base of the dildo, he pressed his thumb against my clit and rubbed it back and forth for almost a minute.

I clung to him as the fires were stoked. Just as I was approaching another round of orgasm, he stopped, smacked me lightly on the clit, gave my nipples another set of deep pinches, and then let me go.

You have to understand, had that man said “come with me and be my personal sex slave forever and I will let you orgasm right now” I’d be at his house typing this, no doubt permanently naked, stuffed with God knows what, cooking and cleaning for him as well as being used sexually. That’s where I was mentally and physically.

I stumbled away. I’m lucky there weren’t any cars because I didn’t even look both ways when I crossed the road. I managed to get back in my truck and drive off, sort of toward my farm, even as my body tried to make sense of the torment, release, and then second torture.

I went home. What else could I do? The crotch rope, the plug, and the vibroballs were back at the house. I parked the car, grabbed my stuff, and snuck upstairs without my mom seeing me.

Once I was firmly ensconced in my room I removed the husky dildo, cleaned myself up as best as I could and then got out the stuff I needed. First I put in my vibroballs. I didn’t turn them on. I didn’t trust myself. Then I lubed the plug. I hate that thing. But in it went. Lastly, I tied the crotch rope harness around my waist and then worked the offending piece of hemp up between my labia. As usual, I tied it off with a clove hitch and tightened it down until the knot was resting right over my clit. I pulled my skirt back up, gingerly I might add. I tucked the remote to the vibroballs into the waist band, but then on second though, turned the dial to the lowest setting. Immediately my pussy contracted around the vibroballs, tightening spasmodically. I took one step and felt the entire harness shift a full inch, rubbing my clit painfully. The plug protected my ass, but the tender spot between my pussy and bottom was getting rubbed raw.

The pain combined with the vibrations and I had to steady myself on the bed frame. Desperation sucks.

Still dressed in skirt, tee shirt, and boots, I headed out leaving my husky dildo and panties behind. I streaked through the house, got back in the truck, and drove off. Desperation sent me to the mall, one of the few places I knew I could find people. I parked, waddled into the mall, and went straight toward one of the department stores. My clit burned and I quickly found what I was looking for: a nice chunky geeky teenager who probably had never seen a girl naked before. I found my target, asked him in a low sultry voice if he wanted to see something neat, and then took him into the back of a store nearby and lifted my skirt. His eyes about popped out when I explained why I was wearing it and that I needed his permission to take it off.

I got permission almost immediately and I quickly untied my hemp thong and pulled it out of my pussy. He watched with this hungry look. My sex was pretty red, not only from the rope but from my earlier fucking. He did ask what the wire was so I pulled out the remote and showed it too him. I made the mistake of letting him hold it and he promptly turned the vibration dial from off to maximum. I almost swooned, my body shaking as my hands went to my groin. My ass tightened convulsively around the plug and I groaned.

It took me a moment to snatch the remote back and get the balls turned off, but it was already too late. I had already been on the edge ever since getting fucked and thumbed by the electrical guy. It wasn’t a terribly powerful orgasm, more like a wave of pleasure that rushed through me, but it still was an orgasm. My chunky guy watched with the look of rapture on his face. When I recovered I realized that we were attracting attention. My skirt was down thank goodness, but the wire and remote sticking out from my waist band certainly looked odd. I flushed in embarrassment and quickly left.

Chunky followed me, tried to strike up a conversation, but I politely told him that I was no longer in need of his services. In the end I threatened to find a security guard. That finally got me loose of my adoring fan and I went looking for my next target: someone willing to grant me permission to remove the offending butt plug.

I finally found what I was looking for: a single person working a store completely empty of customers. It was an electronics store, filled with junk that only a guy could really love. It was all dials and buttons, though I admit I saw a couple of phones I wouldn’t mind having in my purse! I walked in, heard the chime, and the guy at the counter smiled at me. He was sort of old, with graying hair and a slightly stooped posture. I went right up to him as he gave me his store’s tagline; something about having the answers to my questions.

Well I had a question all right. I explained that I had an unwanted plug in one of my sockets and I was wondering if I could have permission to remove it. For the first time, I got an immediate “certainly” without any rigmarole about repeating my request. I thanked him, moved around to the side of the counter where I wouldn’t be seen through the front door, and calmly reached under my skirt.

The nice old man had sort of followed me over and the expression on his face (not to mention the relief on mine) as I pulled the plug out of my ass was awesome. I gave him a satisfactory smile, opened my purse, and dropped the offending plug in a plastic shopping bag I had waiting. And I did all that without exposing myself one bit. Quite nice, if I do say so myself.

I thanked him. He was too shocked to respond for a moment, but then he laughed.

“I guess you DID have an unwanted plug in your socket!” he said with a chuckle. For a moment I regretted not giving this guy a show. He seemed to have a good sense of humor not to mention a healthy sexual attitude. But I just gave him one of my million watt please imagine what it would be like plugging my sockets with all sorts of goodies smiles and waved as I left the store.

I will admit that by this time I was feeling pretty good. I had escaped my crotch rope and plug, both of which were in my purse. The vibroballs were off and I was sexually sated. So I did what any smart girl would do. I went home.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the urge again that evening, but I was still too tender and too satisfied with my earlier trysts to motivated enough to go out. The vibroballs remained off and so without a direct stimulation to get me in gear, I relaxed, showered, cleaned myself off, and then checked my email. Master Barrett was not please.

Breanne, you are to combine the two previous days "spice" so vibroballs on low and a peg either on each nipple or your clit. Also there needs to be a punishment for cumming twice whilst performing the crotch rope punishment. As I write this I still can't believe you came (twice!) whilst doing a punishment for cumming during an assignment all about making you work for you orgasms. So as a punishment for your lack of control apply Icy hot to your nipples and clit every 2 hours.

So that’s how it is. I’m sitting here in skirt and tee shirt, stuffed with a pair of vibroballs that are gently trembling. My nipples ache, but only because I’ve had a pair of clothespins on them for about two hours. At around seven I took the pegs off long enough to dab a decent amount of my Icy Hot substitute on them, sending paroxysms of heat and cold rushing through me, then doing the same thing to my clit. I’m due for another dose in about an hour.

I’m horny. Terribly horny right now. I’m not sure how much longer I can take it either. I might just have to leave and find a stranger long before I would if my body wasn’t in charge. Yep. I’m heading out right now. I’ll let you know how it goes… See ya later.

Can I Cum? Part 4

I’m a moron. Would you believe that I wrote out this whole thing early this afternoon and forgot to post it? Yeah. Me. Stupid. I guess last night’s little adventure tuckered me out, because I feel back asleep this morning. Anyway, I’ve got more to tell you than what’s below, but I’m too tuckered to write it out tonight. So tomorrow morning I’ll try to get it done. For now, be happy. Here’s Part Four:

I’m seriously beginning to hate clothespins.

Okay, for those of you who are just joining in, you need to read Part One, Part Two, and Part Three before you go on. Lots of stuff has been happening this week and you’ll probably get lost if you just go a head and read. Of course, if you do the basic concept is this: Ever since last Saturday, I have to spend a week ASKING for permission to cum. Of course, I have to ask a stranger each time, and I have to masturbate to orgasm within one minute of asking permission. There are a few other caveats, but right now that pretty much takes care of the basics.

Yesterday I finished my last post around nine thirty in the morning and even managed to get it up on the blog before I went crazy. Crazy as in please I need to be fucked crazy. Granted, I wasn’t being tormented with the vibroballs again yesterday, instead I was stuffed with my ben wa balls, but Master Barrett, the wonderful man who is doing this to me, added just a little bit of spice to this already hot and tangy mix.

Clothespins. Of course, he called them pegs, being from the United Kingdom, but whether you call them wooden clamps, clothespins, clothesclippers, or pegs, they’re all the same. Two pieces of soft wood held together by a spring under pressure. Oh yeah, and they come in plastic too.

Mine are classic though. Wooden, cheap, and the bite is just strong enough to hurt and be uncomfortable without cutting off circulation. Actually, to be honest, in the pantheon of clamps I own, they’re actually some of the lightest. They’re versatile though, and you can get them in packages of two dozen at a time for just a few bucks. Do you KNOW what it feels like to have two dozen clothespins dangling from just your sensitive parts?

Speaking of dangling, that is exactly what Master Barrett asked me to do: dangle clothespins. For the entire day. He was a little nice and gave me the option of either having one on my clit, or having one on each nipple, but no matter what I was to stay clamped. After four days of sexual frustration interspersed with some amazing powerful orgasm, having clothespins dangling from the two most sexualized and sensual spots changed the dynamics rather intensely.



Right after I finished writing yesterday’s post I moved one of the clothespins to my purse while the other went on my clit. The short skirt I was wearing didn’t have pockets, which made it relatively impossible to keep both pegs on my person, but since I was planning on taking my purse with me everywhere, it wasn’t that bad. My nipples burned and ached, but it was the kind that just turns me on, rather than hurts, and let me tell you, that stoked the fires more than anything.

Now I’ve done an assignment before where I was required to wear clothespins like this. In private, the pegs had to be on my nipples. In public, the pegs (both of them that time) had to be on my pussy and clit. It was tough, but I managed, and I figured that a similar pattern this time would keep either my nipples or clit from being over sensitized. Now it’s hard to walk straight when you’ve got a two inch long wooden clamp dangling down from your clit. Mostly its because your thigh has a tendency to snag it on the next step, the base of the clamp digging into your skin. This of course does all sorts of things to your clit. Pushing, tugging, pulling. You end up doing this sort of waddle as your nub becomes tenderized, and you begin thinking that having the clothespins on your breasts isn’t such a bad thing after all.

I left the house that morning around 10 am and headed out with no particular destination in mind except the O-zone. (Sorry, Michael. I couldn’t resist after reading that story review you wrote!) Also, I realized that while the ben wa balls were certainly stimulating enough to keep me wet and ready, I lacked the control I had over my nearness to orgasm that I had with the vibroballs. Sorry. That was a convoluted sentence, wasn’t it? But it’s true. I ended up at my local mall, walking slowly through the “neighborhoods”, trying not to excite my clit too much as the ben wa balls slowly churned inside me, never quite taking me to the levels of immediate need.

As usual, I was looking for solitary men. Eventually I followed one into one of the bathroom hallways. I let him go into the restroom, then after waiting a few moments, opened the door and stuck my head in. Ah… solitude! There he was, standing at the urinals.

I’ve always had a fascination with men’s public restrooms. I’ve sort of become an expert on them. This one was cleaner than most, but it’s at a mall, which I would expect to be cleaner. The one thing that really has struck me is seeing the number of stalls compared to the number of urinals. I wonder if there is a formula somewhere that dictates “if you have this many men using the restroom, you need x number of urinals and y number of stalls.

I waited near the door until he was finished, and then when he got himself zipped up and turned around to go to the sink, he saw me. He was about thirty five or so, with a slight paunch. I don’t really mind that. As long as a guy isn’t grossly overweight I can take it. Granted, I like sculpted athletic bodies, but clean and sweet is sometimes just as good. I can’t abide dirty guys. The absolute worst are guys who masturbate a lot and don’t clean their cocks afterward. Yuck.

Ewww… sorry about that. Probably killed any sexual tension you were feeling, right? Ok, well picture this instead: Bathroom. Two people. One could be you. The other? Twenty four year old white female, dark brown shoulder length hair with red highlights. Pale complexion, but with a smattering of light brown freckles on her cheeks and arms. Attire? Simple. A incredibly tight tee shirt, pink, with the words “Princess” in white, slightly faded. Both nipples clearly visible, and they aren’t even hard. The skirt is blue denim, also faded, flared with pleats. Long smooth legs go all the way down to a pair of blue colored flip flops. Her toenails are painted pink. Her only accessory is a small purse on a thing silver strand that crosses her chest, making her breasts stand out even more.

There? Back in the mood? Good.

Anyway, the guy saw me, stopped, smiled and then said the classic line men always seem to say when they encounter me in a men’s restroom.

“One of us seems to be in the wrong bathroom.”

No. Seriously? Really? One of us? You just fucking peed in a urinal and you think ONE of us is in the wrong room? You aren’t sure? The sign on the door has a figure who ISN’T wearing a dress. I think we could probably come right out and say that “I’m in the wrong restroom.”

I hid my irritation and instead replaced it with one of my million watt please fuck me like this was your bedroom smiles and took a few steps closer.

“Yeah, I know. I’m in the wrong place, but I really needed some help and I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to do it.”

His eyebrow went up. “What can I do for you?” Ah… what a gentleman! Of course, I find most guys to be gentlemen. At least usually.

“I was wondering if you would give me permission to have an orgasm right now.” I said. See? I changed my question. I was tired of the “huh?” and the “what?” and the “seriously?” that kept coming my way.

“What?” he replied. Geeze. There must be something defective in the male build or something.

I repeated myself, speaking slowly and emphasizing my requirements.

“Seriously?” he asked. I stifled my groan and nodded.

“Uh, sure. You can go a head and orgasm,” he told me.

Damn. I wasn’t quite ready! I glanced at my watch, quickly lifted my skirt, and immediately began working my fingers in and out of my hole. I didn’t quite catch his expression because my focus was elsewhere, but I heard a low whistle of astonishment, so I’m guessing he either was impressed at the clothespin dangling from my clit, or the fact that I was doing this in front of him. Or maybe it was both things. Who knows.

My thumb began doing some rather intense things to the clothespin on my clit, mostly flicking it even as I drove three fingers deeper and deeper into my pussy. For the first thirty seconds, I was worried that I wouldn’t manage in time, but the frustrations of the entire morning, the agony of denial, and now finally, the humiliation of doing this in front of a stranger got to me. I felt the wave build up and then crash into me, swamping me wetly. I felt the juices squirt out onto my hand and I leaned backward against the wall gasping, my face flushed, hand still buried in my sex.

“Geeze girl, you are a slut,” my audience said. He clearly had a hard on and he was stroking it slightly through the material of his trousers.

After recovering, I pulled my hand away from my crotch, let my skirt drop, and then moved to the sink, washing my hands. I turned toward him with a smile and thanked him.

I thought about offering him a blowjob, but it just seemed awkward. So instead I waddled on out of the restroom and out into the mall. Feeling sated, but just a tad bit hungry, I went to the food court, got some grub (I’m a cowgirl for God’s sake, give me a break) and ate.

After lunch I stopped by the junk jewelry store. I shouldn’t call it that, since the jewelry is quality stuff, just cheap. Julie wasn’t working, which was good because I didn’t think I was up for having my breasts slapped again. She loves doing that for some reason. I had to stop by just in case though, because the last time I walked the mall and didn’t and posted about it, she got pissed that I hadn’t “dropped by”. And when Julie gets pissed it hurts.

I headed back out to my truck then, only feeling the stir of the ben wa balls slowly trying to build the fire back up. As I got behind the wheel, I pulled my tee shirt up and moved the clothespin from my clit to my right nipple, got out the second peg, and attached that to my left. I left my shirt up. It’s not illegal to drive topless! Ha ha!

And I went home. Yeah, I know boring, right? Except by the time I got home, the added stimulation of having my breasts hanging out, not to mention the incredible sensation of the wooden clamps chewing on my nubs, had me ready for another orgasm. But I bit the bullet so to speak, parked the truck, moved one clip back to my clit, and suffered in silence through the rest of the afternoon.

I even suffered through dinner.

But around nine that evening I couldn’t take it any more. Granted, I’d moved the clothespins back and forth all day, but my clit was now so tender that I was hurting. The ben wa balls made it difficult to move around, and my nipples, while having received the least amount of attention during the day, were still hyper sensitive. I changed into a halter top and high heels, left the skirt on, and escaped.

There were a number of places that I could go, and one of them happened to be a bar I know. I’m not much of a drinker, but I’ve been taken too a few bars in my time. This particular one was unique, since I’d never been fucked in it before. The music was pretty heavy rock, the lighting was strobe, and the volume was so loud that if I had to go every night I’d be deaf as a post within a week.

I was dressed appropriately and immediately got asked to dance. I said yes before considering the consequences and the next thing I knew I was up on the dance floor in this handsome guy’s arms, being twirled and bent in half, his hands on me, the ben wa balls suddenly going into overtime as my clit was stretched, tugged, pushed, pulled, and in general, terribly tormented. I made it through the dance without pulling off this guys clothes and fucking him, but only through a massive burst of will power. I ended the dance with a kiss, sticking my tongue down his throat.

His name was Jonas, but I only found that out afterward. When the dance and kiss were finished, I told him to take me someplace and fuck me or we could do it on the floor.

Trust a guy to know right where to take a girl for a quick fuck. Evidently this bar is a little lax on their regulations regarding public fucking, though granted we did move to a back corner. In moments he was sitting on a chair while I was straddling him. I took out the ben wa balls, dropped them on the floor (yes…bad idea I know) and then watched his eyes bug out as I pulled the clothespin off my clit, move it to my nipple, and then add the other clamp. His cock was out already, sticking straight up and I went to my knees, sucking and licking him for a few moments. I got a condom on him with my mouth.

I admit I didn’t do my normal job on his cock. I was too horny. Instead I got up, straddled him, and then impaled myself. We pumped as the few party goers around us cheered Jonas and me on and then he was grabbing hold of the clothespins, twisting them around as my breasts jiggled with my bouncing. Oh god…. It was awesome. I clutched at him, begging “can I cum? Please can I cum?”

YES! Permission! I felt my tee shirt being pulled off my body by someone other than Jonas and I shook and shuddered through my sexual release. No need to consult a watch. I came fast. I kept up with the bouncing though until I felt Jonas come as well and then I bent over and was kissing him.

Disentanglement is always so anticlimactic. I picked up my vibroballs from the floor and to Jonas’ surprise, I reinserted them into my pussy. I looked around for my shirt, but it was gone. No one seemed to have it. I looked at Jonas expectantly. A gentleman would offer me HIS shirt, but evidently that didn’t occur to him. Instead, I got pulled back out on to the dance floor, bare breasted, still stuffed with ben wa balls, while clothespins dangled from my nipples.

You should have heard the cheers and jeers. I saw about a zillion cell phones and even a couple of flashes as the cameras took shots. So if you see happen to see video or pictures of a girl at a bar wearing nothing but a blue denim skirt and clothespins…well. How embarrassing.

I was pretty much forced to dance. Jonas had a hold on me, but then one of his buddies had me. Despite my orgasm, the forced movement caused the ben wa balls to once again kick into overdrive and after thirty minutes I found myself once again wanting a fuck. I couldn’t find Jonas, so I was led back to the chair by a stranger. Another guy’s hands grabbed my skirt and it was tugged off my body. I barely had a chance to get my ben wa balls out before I was rather unceremoniously manhandled into position and then forced down on hard extended cock. It felt good, but then another cock was suddenly pushed into my face and I saw Jonas standing there, holding out his stick. I turned my face and sucked him, even while a number of hands touched me. The guy beneath me came, filling the condom he was wearing and then I was lifted again, my world a flash of lights and heavy music and then someone else was on the chair, a hastily applied condom on his cock and I was impaled again.

The clothespin became a focal point and they were twisted, pulled, tugged and even removed and reapplied. I made it clear they had to stay on, but the guys surrounding me WANTED that. Every time I neared orgasm, I would ask the guy I was fucking if I could cum. They all said yes.

It was one o’clock when we got kicked out of the bar. My shirt and skirt were gone and I was finally wearing Jonas’ shirt. It barely covered my ass. The only thing I still had were my vibroballs, which were tucked back up inside me, and my clothespins and purse. I was sore, tender, and very much sated and Jonas helped me too my car. We exchanged numbers and I headed home.

I snuck into the house, showered, removed the clothespins and the ben wa balls, and then got into my pajamas. My pussy was sore from the night’s fucking, but Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule #1 came to mind, and I reached over to the bedside table, extracted my husky dildo, and slid it easily into my stretched pussy. I groaned once, realizing that I would no doubt be masturbating right now if it wasn’t for the damned permission situation. With a deep breath, I rolled over, clamped my thighs together, and slept.

I woke at five like usual, fed the critters, had breakfast, and then went back to bed. Now it’s one o’clock and I’m feeling it. That need. The urge. The desperation.

Excuse me. I need to go ask someone for permission.

Can I Cum? Part 3

I have to admit, things might be getting just a tad bit out of hand…

Well, if you aren’t up to speed, you need to get there. That means you need to read part one and part two before you read this. To put it bluntly, you’ll sort of be lost. Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m not allowed to cum unless I ask someone, a stranger, face to face, if I can have permission to orgasm. Worse, I have to cum within one minute of getting permission. Which means I have to stay right on the edge. Failure is not an option.

Of course with me, failure is ALWAYS an option.

Yesterday morning, right after I posted part two of this little insane assignment, I clicked into my private messenger account and immediately sent a small nugget of my love and affection to Master Barrett, the dom who is making me do this (I almost wrote bastard there, but then decided at the last minute not too!) In my typical open mouth insert foot style, I politely told him that I hate him, at least until this assignment is open. Master Barrett responded typically by first discovering what sex toy was currently buried inside my pussy, and upon discovering I was wearing my vibroballs, calmly ordered me to turn them on low.

“How long?” I asked.

“All day” he replied.

I wish there was a way for guys to understand what that’s like, but there really isn’t. First of all, there is no way to really torture a cock for that long, especially mildly. Guys are all about speed. You can make them cum, or you can tease them, but it’s all intense and you have to start and stop. Girls are different. You can set things up so it’s all tease, at a steady pace, non-stop, for hours. Personally, I’m sort of used to the vibroballs. I used to wear them a lot in college and there were times I’d get on the internet for three or four hour stretches with those things rumbling inside me, doing some um… internet research. Yeah. Internet Research.

What?

Anyway, I’d worn vibroballs for extended periods before yesterday, and let’s be honest, I’m like the world champion for enduring direct vibration stimulation to sexual organs. Ok, sure, I wasn’t coherent about half way through, but I still DID IT! So I turned on the vibroballs, suppressed the initial urge to fuck anything remotely cock shaped, and continued my conversation with Master Barrett.

He also had issues with me sitting in my truck and asking permission. He felt that was cheating. Do you feel that was cheating? Sigh. Well, to be honest, I sort of can see his point. So I agreed, no more asking while sitting in my truck. That made things a lot harder. Trust me. Then Master Barrett said for me to expect him to “up the ante” each day for the rest of the week. I trembled, and not from the vibroballs. In fact, today’s ante is already wobbling from my breasts, but I’ll get into that later. He felt the vibroballs would make a nice “spice” to our little mixture of humiliation, embarrassment, and sexual perversion. You know what? He was right.

I didn’t make it much past breakfast before I pleaded an excuse to head out on some errands. We’ve slowed things down now, so until the soy beans are ready for harvesting, I only have the animals to really care for. That makes it a little easier to escape the farm, which is good, because I was so horny and desperate by eight or so o’clock that had ANYONE shown up on the farm, I’d have asked them right there and then if I could cum.

I hopped in my truck and immediately sped off with no particular destination in mind. To be honest, I think my pussy was driving, pointing me in some innate direction that only my libido could sense. The truck trundled along and I found myself heading westbound toward Houston.

Oh. For you people in New York. It’s Houston. Pronounced HEWS-TON. It’s not HOUSE-TON. Idiots.

Morning rush hour was still going on and I turned down Highway 6 and began cruising, pulling into parking lots, looking for a target. I passed the icehouse I had spent an afternoon getting gangbanged in. I passed the service center where both my car and my pussy were thoroughly lubed. Then I was into the more eclectic shopping strip malls. Oh. How appropriate! Strip malls!

I guess I should talk about what I was wearing; flip flops, khaki shorts, no panties, tee shirt, and I HAD been wearing a bra, but it was now sitting on the seat beside me. I pulled into one massive parking lot, got out of the truck, and cranked the dial of my vibro balls to maximum, grit my teeth, and started walking. I was looking for something in particular: a single guy, getting out of his vehicle, where there was some nearby concealment in the manner of a large sport utility vehicle. Preferably a Hummer if I could swing it.

Unfortunately, no Hummers. I guess gas prices are making those things lawn ornaments these days. Oh well. I walked on, teeth clenched as my pussy contracted almost continuously around the vibroballs. My nipples were hard as rocks and it took almost an insane amount of willpower not to plunge my hand into my shorts and finish the job. It took about ten minutes to find Mr. Right, a slightly over college age guy, wearing a black polo and a lanyard with a name tag on it. It said “Eric” on it, not that it really matters, but I managed to approach Eric before he had made it more than three or four steps away from his vehicle. Even better, it was right between a van and a Ford Explorer.

“Excuse me!” I asked, probably a bit more intensely that I meant to. It startled him. He gave me a surprised look.

“Yeah?”

I stayed between the van and the Explorer. “Can I please cum?” I begged, one hand going down to my shorts.

“What?” Sigh. I need to be more explicit when I ask that first question. It would eliminate these tiresome repetitions.

“I need to orgasm. I can I please masturbate?” Not exactly what I need, but close enough.

He glanced around, his shocked expression still written bold upon his face. “Here?”

I nodded quickly, no doubt conveying the absolute urgency of the situation. Be honest. If a pretty 24 year old girl came up to you and told you she needed to masturbate immediately and needed your permission, wouldn’t you say yes?” Well guess what Eric said?

I pushed my hand down into my shorts with relief, right after glancing at my watch. I had sixty seconds to do this and frankly, it didn’t even take that long. I jammed my finger against my clit, rubbed back and forth frantically with one hand, while my other yanked my shirt up, exposing one nipple, which I pinched pretty hard. I fell against the Explorer, my shorts slipping down my body thanks to the movement of my hand, exposing my hips, loins, and even the top of my slit. Eric got quite an eyeful.

And I got a handful; of juices. The orgasm was rather wet, thanks to increased stimulation and the fact I hadn’t cum in like ten hours. I was pretty noisy too I think, but we didn’t attract anyone’s attention.

“Holy shit,” was Eric’s comment. I sighed as I started to relax, pulling my hand away from both my crotch and my breast at the same time. I tugged my shorts back up and then turned and gave Eric my best million watt I hope you enjoyed the sex show smile. I pulled out the remote and turned it back down to low. Then I pulled my shirt back over my breast and stepped up on tip toe to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. I love doing that.

“Thanks!” I said politely and started to walk off

“What the fuck?” Eric said. “You’re just going to walk off and leave me like this?”

I stopped and looked back. “Like what?”

“Confused? Horny? Wondering what that thing is?”

I smiled again. “Yep. See ya!” And then I walked back to my truck.

Was that cruel?

I puttered around for a while. Went to the mall, bought some new clothes, basically stewed myself for an hour or two so that by eleven o’clock I was almost as horny as I had been earlier that morning. I started looking for another target while I was still at the mall and I turned up my vibroballs in expectation of that very thing.

Unfortunately, the target never presented itself. Instead, my libido went into overdrive and for some strange odd reason, while walking along in front of a build your own stuffed bear shop, I felt this odd surge between my legs. I wobbled, gasped, nearly fell down, and ended up leaning against the wall as I orgasmed. Oops. Just a little too much expectation between my legs, right?

Master Barrett had made it very clear what needed to happen should I fail any portion of my assignment. After recovering from my vibroballs induced orgasm, and reassured half a dozen people that I was okay, I got back in my truck and trundled off to home. I’m actually a little embarrassed about this actually. When I got home, I greeted everyone, went upstairs to my room, and followed Master Barrett’s prepared instructions exactly.

First I got out my anal plug. I hate these so much. I now technically have two of them, though one is usually connected to my chastity belt. I got out the other. It is four inches long and four inches wide at the base. It’s tapered for easy entry, but widens diabolically rather quickly and basically feels like someone is shoving a baseball bat up my ass.

I also got out a certain hemp construct I made some time ago. It basically was a one inch thick rope, approximately twenty nine inches long, with another similar rope about twenty five inches long tied on one end in the middle of the first. After stripping out of my shorts, I wrapped the longer rope around my waist, tying it off in the front, so that the attached rope dangled down between my butt cheeks. Then I grabbed the butt plug, lubricated it with a bit of sex jelly, and inserted it, rather reluctantly, in my ass. Once I was plugged, I reached down between my legs, grabbed the dangling rope, and pulled it upward as I spread my ankles.

The rope pushed the plug a little deeper and I reached down and spread the petals of my sex apart as I tugged the rope into position. Soon my labia were nicely parted with the one inch thick, scratchy, sex soaked hemp, which was looped under the waist string and then tied off with a clove hitch. I tightened it so that the knot was literally right above my clit, the crotch rope just a tad too tight. Then, rather carefully, I pulled my shorts back on, tucked the vibroballs remote into my pocket, and gingerly took a step.

Oh my God.

Let me describe in detail exactly what was happening. First of all, the vibroballs were still buzzing merrily away inside my pussy. They move with every step, rattling against each other as well as generally exciting me sexually. This was now complicated by the rope between my legs, which literally slid about an inch back and forth through my pussy with every step I took. To make matters worse, the large knot directly above my clit was too big to actually come OFF my clit, so not only was my clit being rubbed aggressively, but the knot was putting a lot of pressure on it as well. YOU try walking like that.

But I did. I mastered my sexual urges, my needs, my sexual agony and went downstairs and had lunch with my family. Then I made a pretense at some chores, which actually meant I went out to the barn and didn’t move for about an hour. Through all this the bonfire between my legs was getting worse and finally I just grabbed my keys, jumped in my truck and took off.

Master Barrett had proscribed the exact procedure for dealing with my punishment for “unauthorized orgasm” and I quickly drove into town. All I needed to do was find a stranger, explain my predicament, and ask him or her for permission to remove the crotch rope thong. Of course, I technically had to remove it right there in front of them, so it wasn’t going to be another parking lot ambush as far as I was concerned. I instead started driving toward a series of small shops, which at two o’clock in the afternoon should be only barely busy. I needed privacy for this one.

I pulled up to the first strip mall and only aggravated my situation by walking the entire length, only to find the few stores with acceptable targets either having extra employees or customers. ARRGGGHHH. It was awful. I made it back to the truck and moved on. The next strip mall was a bit longer and I made it past three stores, none of which were acceptable, when another orgasm rocked through me. It was really intense, and made me sway and lean against the wall. I think it was the rope that did it. It hurt, and at the same time I was being sexually stimulated by the vibroballs. My body just couldn’t handle it. To be honest, I’m not surprised. After a few minutes I recovered, tentatively took a step, and realized that I needed to get the crotch rope off and the anal plug out of my ass…quick. Between the plug and the vibroballs, my pussy and ass were constantly contracting, and the rope was sawing its way through my clit. There’s a question: how many orgasms will it take before the crotch rope saws its way through Breanne’s clit? The world may never know…

I went into the next store that looked even remotely possible. It was a gaming store, which will remain nameless, but I’ll just say if you’re a gamer this is a good place to STOP. Okay? We good now? All right. I’m not a gamer but I’ve got a Wii so I’ve been in places like this before. So I went in, still slightly reeling from my last orgasm and was immediately greeted by the clerk, a nice young man who oddly enough, was wearing a very similar outfit that my early morning conquest Eric was wearing. We smiled at each other and he asked me the loaded question.

“Good Afternoon. What can I do for you?”

I walked up to the counter, slowly of course, put my elbows down on the counter, bent over, blinked my pretty eye lashes, and then gave him a million watt please let me out of this crotch rope and I’ll do anything for you smile.

“I have a serious problem,” I said, starting off. I knew it was going to come out weird no matter how I said it so I just went right on ahead. “I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut, and my master made me put on a crotch rope. He said I could only take it off if a stranger gave me permission. You’re a stranger, so would you be willing to give me permission to take it off?”

The words came out in a rush, and I suspect something of a jumble because the guy just stood there. Maybe its NOT the way I ask, but WHAT I’m asking. I guess it just takes a moment to compute.

“Excuse me?”

Oh geeze. Another intellectual. I repeated myself, this time going so far as to take a step back from the counter and literally pulling the elastic waist band of my shorts down far enough to show him the waist rope and the knot above my clit. Okay, so he might have seen something else, but I’m sure the rope was really the focus of his attention.

“You need my permission to take off the rope?” he asked, still clarifying. His name tag said “manager”. How the hell do you become a manager and have trouble with a simple request.

“Yes,” I replied. “This isn’t a joke. No cameras, no audience, no anything. Just please say ‘yes you can take off the rope”. It’s easy,” I told him.

“Uh. Okay. You can take off the rope,” he said, this time with a little more confidence. I grinned my thanks and immediately started pushing my shorts down.

“Wait! What are you doing?” he demanded.

I rolled my eyes. “Taking off this damn crotch rope. It’s not very comfortable,” I replied, continuing.

“You can’t do that here! In the middle of the store!” You should have seen his eyes. They were popping out of his skull.

I stopped. “You want me to do this in your back room or something?”

“That’s for employees only.” His response sounded automatic. I needed to kickstart him again. I pushed my shorts down to my ankles and started to step out of them. I don’t see what he was worried about. There weren’t any customers, nor were there likely to be until school let out. Plus I was technically behind a big cardboard poster like thing holding a gun and displaying a game name. I managed to reach down and pull off my shorts, holding them in my hand when he came out from around the counter, grabbed me, and pulled me into the back room. I had a hold of my vibroballs remote in one hand as he manhandled me into privacy.

What a mess. As a manager, he wasn’t the most organized guy I’ve ever encountered. He stood in the doorway, keeping watch on both his store and me and I stared at him as my fingers fumbled at the knot. I admit, I was feeling just a bit cruel, but also a bit playful and I pretended I couldn’t get the knot loose.

“I can’t get this knot. Would you mind?” I asked him, rotating my hips and lifting one leg. I put my flip flop clad foot on a chair as his eyes fell out on the floor and began rolling around. I guess the pinkness of my protruding pussy won him over, because he came over and immediately untied the rope. I winced a few times as it moved across my clit, but it wasn’t long before he found the anal plug.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, pressing the bottom of the plug. I wish he hadn’t done that. I nodded and then he reached out and took the remote from me.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Vibro balls. In my pussy,” I replied. The bastard then turned the dial to maximum and the muted roar of the balls was suddenly audible and I groaned, my hips involuntarily churning, as my ass tightened around the plug. Now I can stand a lot of sexual stimulation. I’ve accidentally trained myself to tolerate long term exposure and even some pretty intense sex play. But I CAN’T stand the vibroballs on maximum for very long.

“Please!” I gasped, feeling the orgasm rushing toward me. “Please stop! I can’t cum! I’m not allowed too!”

“What do you mean?” he demanded, leaving the vibroballs on their maximum setting. My hands went to my pussy as my clit began to throb.

“The rope and plug are punishments for cumming when I wasn’t supposed too.”

“So what happens if you cum now?” he asked, clearly intrigued with the situation.

I shook my head. “I don’t know..just please!”

I could see the look in his eyes. It’s a common look for guys, the wheels turn, the blackmail rises to the top. And then it came.

“What will you give me to stop?”

The words were out of my mouth before a second had passed. “Anything! I’ll give you a blowjob! I’ll let you fuck me! Just…please turn it off!”

My loins went still. I fell to the floor gasping, my body shaking. He handed me the remote and I took it, still slightly dazed from the intensity of the torment.

“I’ll be right back,” he said politely. I was left on my own for about a minute and then he was back. He took the remote away from me, the little wire leading back down to my pussy, and he pulled me upright so that I was on my knees. He presented his own crotch to me and then I was presented with his dick.

“We’ll start with that blowjob and if you don’t do a good job then this happens.” He thumbed the vibroballs again and they roared to life for a few seconds. It was like throwing gasoline on a bed of hot coals. Whoosh! I nodded as the roar faded and he turned the vibroballs off again. I opened my mouth and tried my best to give him the best blow job of his life.

I’m actually really good at blowjobs. I use my hands and my mouth equally, which is the real trick. Guys who only want face fucking are missing out, of course they’re looking for the submission and humiliation of it. If you’re trying to get a guy to cum, then use your hands. Stroke, rub, squeeze, and fondle. Trust me, it works. It wasn’t long before my manager was groaning, one hand on my head while the other played with the vibroballs remote, occasionally turning it up to low, other times sending a jolt of powerful vibrations through my pussy. I could sense he was getting ready to cum when he pulled away from me, tugged me to my feet, and turned me around.

I was ready for this and grabbed my shorts with a quickly shouted “wait!” I had the condom out in seconds and he let me put it on him, even as he changed the roar of the vibroballs from high to low back and forth. When he was appropriately clad, he ordered me to turn around and bend over. How prosaic.

The vibroballs got turned off completely, which was a bit of a relief, but then he tugged them out of my body. He ignored the anal plug. I got bent over the chair and his hand went up under my shirt, pushing it up as he exposed my breasts. One hand cupped them while the other positioned his cock at my pussy. Then I got impaled.

As far as fucks go, this one was actually pretty good. Of course, unlike usual, I was trying very hard not to cum. The guy was intense. His pumping was steady, sort of slow, and he seemed to be rebuilding back up to a powerful orgasm. I could tell when he was close because his grip on my breast got tighter and then he was pinching my nipple. That really did it because I shuddered and then couldn’t hold back any more as another orgasm rippled through me. I tightened around him just as he started to cum, and we sort of just stood there immobile as our muscles locked into place. He filled the condom and I just sort of sighed.

We sort of just separated and he was stripping off the condom as I turned around and planted my anal plugged ass in the chair. My pussy was dripping and I just sort of gave him this loose relaxed grin of pleasure.

He laughed. “You came anyway.”

I nodded. Then with a sigh I inclined my head toward the fallen vibroballs. “I need those back in on low.”

He gave me a look of incredulity. “Seriously?”

I nodded again. “It’s sort of a punishment.”

“Jesus. You ARE a slut.”

He buckled his pants and then picked up the vibroballs, handing them to me. They were still a bit wet. Slowly, I pushed them into my now widened, pink, and still slightly abraded slit. Once they were embedded, I turned them back on, setting the dial to low. I admit, I let out another groan, but I wasn’t so out of it that I couldn’t pull myself together.

I left my breasts exposed as I grabbed my shorts. Pulling them on was a trial and my shirt fell back down all on its own before I got my khakis back in place. I tucked the remote into the front pocket like usual, and then grabbed the rope thong which was lying on the floor.

I followed my recent paramour out of the back room and into the main store. A piece of paper was taped to the front door, and he moved quickly to it, tugged it free, and then unlocked the front door.

Ahhhh….

There were a few awkward moments after that. I was sated to be honest, though there was still the difficulty of the plug in my ass. I still needed to find one more stranger to get the plug out before I could technically have orgasms again. Though if the last hour was anything to judge by, I was still getting plenty of action.

Let’s see. There was the introduction, exchanging of names, a few questions about being a NHPS, exchanging of emails… that sort of stuff. Then I left. No customers the entire time. Silly.

I continued down the strip mall, looking for a similar spot to extract my anal plug. I’m not a fan of things in my ass, even cocks, so getting the plug out was at the top of my list of things to do that afternoon. It was getting hot so I stepped into one of those large wanna be department stores. You know, the ones that are warehouses trying to be department stores, instead of department stores trying to look like warehouses? I went in there. I think I wandered around for about ten minutes before I found what I was looking for; single woman, impeccably dressed, thin, a little waspish, but vain if her jewelry was any indication. I approached her, introduced myself and then explained my predicament.

“You actually agree to this abusive behavior?” she asked, her tone clearly disapproving. I nodded, mentally groaning already. I didn’t need a lecture. A simple yes or no would have sufficed. “You should discontinue this sluttish behavior. It is unbecoming of a woman in today’s world,” she said hautily.

“But I like being a slut,” I replied.

“Then keep the offending object in your ass.” She turned away from me.

Bitch.

I’m only recounting this because it stuck in my memory. I realize it really isn’t important, but I wanted an opportunity to call her names. So thanks for putting up with this. I turned, a sour look on my face as I left the BITCH looking at clothes. She had horrible taste anyway.

My next target was a bit more conventional. This time it was a store employee, male, who was a little younger than me. He listened to my unconventional request, made the normal remarks of disbelief, and then led me to the changing rooms. No one was around, so I invited him to come in and watch, which was sort of the idea of the punishment in the first place. You should have seen his grin. We went in together, I quickly tugged my shorts down to my knees, and of course there was the obligatory question about the soft buzzing sound and what the remote did. However, unlike the game store manager, my latest gentleman was much less aggressive. He just enjoyed the show. I pulled out the plug, much to my relief, set it down on the floor, pulled up my shorts, and then offered him a blow job.

Yes, I know. I didn’t need to. But he was SO nice! I felt he deserved it. I was quick and an expert and he came pretty quickly. The only screw up was that he jerked when he came and some of it caught me across the face, rather than in my mouth. I wiped some of the cum off my cheek, licked my finger and grinned. I gave him a chaste kiss, got my plug, and went off to find the BITCH.

This time I approached her I was holding the still slightly moist plug up high. I cleared my throat, looked at her, saw her astonished expression of horror and said, “Excuse me, do you happen to have some tissue? I think I’ve got sperm in my hair.”

I am soooooo evil. But I enjoyed it. The Bitch just stared at me, in shock, and I turned and left the store. I did sort of wipe the plug off… on something. Uh… don’t ask.

With the vibro balls buzzing I headed for home, ready for more sexual escapades. But I wasn’t terribly horny, and to be honest, was feeling pretty good. In fact, I felt so good that I actually didn’t really get turned on again until after dinner, and it wasn’t until ten pm that I felt the urge to go back out. I suppressed it of course, deciding I could just go out the next morning.

So at five this morning I woke up as usual, got dressed in a short skirt, tee shirt, and my flip flops. No panties or bra today. Before I left my room to head outside to go feed the animals, I picked up two wooden clothespin. One went in my pocket and the other I delicately attached to my clit, feeling it dangle down. Why two clothespins? Well Master Barrett was kind enough to give me an alternative should my clit become to sensitive. That’s why I’m not wearing a bra. Ah… the spice of life as Master Barrett called it. Nothing better than adding a little torment to an already tormented Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut. Of course I switched out the vibro balls for ben wa balls today. The remote was too dangerous.

After chores and breakfast, I retreated to my bedroom, lifted my shirt, moved the clothespin from my clit to my nipple and added the second peg, which is why my chest tingles and I’m already terribly horny. I knew I had to finish this first, but I’ll be honest with you, I’m about to go out and find another stranger.

Who knows? It might be you.