Riding The Wooden Horse - By Breanne Erickson
To her credit, Kari didn’t just turn both vibrators on to full the moment I sat down. No, that would have been really cruel. No, she waited a full minute or two. As soon as it was apparent that I had adjusted to the fact that I was now completely impaled up both my ass and pussy, and Robert had locked my ankle cuffs to the little metal rings on the sides of the stool, AND put the strap around my waist. That’s when Kari cranked things up. I was already feeling some strange sensations. First of all, despite my earlier fuckings with both the Core Driller dildo and Robert’s cock, the vaginal phallus on the stool wasn’t quite the same. First of all, it was an odd shape, almost screw like. This was due to the metal rod inside that kept it firm and upright. The rubber was nothing more than padding. Of course the whole thing was attached to an off balance motor that was now shaking the whole thing back and forth.
The thin narrow vibe in my ass was not as difficult to handle, mostly because the bruising I had gotten on the wooden horse centered farther forward. My labia had taken most of it, along with my perineum and frankly, my pussy being spread and opened by the massive corkscrew cock was causing a lot more discomfort than the spear up my ass. I shifted back and forth trying to relieve the pressure, even as the vibrators roared to life and I had to put my hands on the table. I folded myself down in order to tolerate the sensations coming from my loins.
“You okay?” Robert asked gently as I struggled to get a grip, the tips of my breasts touching the table. He placed a warm hand on my shoulder and I took a few deep breaths before I nodded. I reached up and gripped his fingers and squeezed.
I was okay, though only barely. My crotch hurt, a lot. It felt like I had been strapped into a spreader bar, set up in front of gang of teenage boys, and then kicked repeatedly in the crotch, as hard as possible. Okay, granted I have absolutely no idea what that would actually feel like, but I’m guessing it would be on par with riding the wooden horse four times in what amounted to about three hours and forty something minutes. I could FEEL the bruises. They were long and deep and would take days to heal, if not longer. To be honest, they did take that long (which if you remember really really sucked because the Monday FOLLOWING all of what you’re reading was absolutely BRUTAL, but that’s ANOTHER story!)
Once I had adjusted to being stuffed to the brim and the acute ouch of the vibrations, I began eating. The food was wonderful, as I expected, and my stomach finally took control of everything else. For a blissful twenty minutes I ate, managing to ignore the steadily building sexual rush between my legs, the deep set ache of the bruises around my pussy, and even the still tender soreness of both nipples, which occasionally throbbed if my arm brushed against my breast. I didn’t stuff myself though. The last thing I needed was an uncomfortably full stomach on top of everything else, and throughout my lunch I was very aware that I would shortly be riding the wooden horse again.
To my surprise, I was also handling the vibrations pretty well. And by pretty well I mean that while they were certainly arousing me and keeping me very very wet, I wasn’t losing myself to them. It would have been embarrassing for me to be stuck in that chair, cumming like a nympho humiliation pain slut, from just a pair of high powered vibrators. I mean, seriously, I have SOME self control.
Which is why Kari started up the screw rotation when we were half-way through. I missed seeing her fingers on the controls so it was a bit of a surprise when the odd shaped phallus in my pussy began spinning. If you’ve read some of my other daily assignments, you might remember that one of my toys, the Rotating Venus Penis does something similar, except instead of a nine inch corkscrew cock that plugs into the wall, the RVP is battery operated and has a straight four inch cock that both vibrates and rotates. And I can’t handle the rotation part at ALL. I cum in minutes the moment you turn it on. I think my longest time to hold out was fifteen minutes for a first cum. The only way I could hold out for longer is if you overloaded me and kept me cumming over and over again.
So let me be honest, the corkscrew vibrator, which was now slowly CHURNING inside me, did what the vibrator couldn’t; make me cum. In minutes I was having trouble eating. I finally put my chopsticks down, afraid I was going to choke to death or poke out my eye or something. The corkscrew dildo picked up a bit more speed and my hips decided that I needed to do some judicial bouncing. Of course with the strap across my waist, and my ankles locked to the stool (ostensibly to keep from getting up), all I could really do is roll my hips back and forth, literally repeating the movement that I had used on the horse to bruise my pussy. This time however the corkscrewing vibrating dildo kept me in place and there wasn’t a sharp wooden edge to hurt me.
Guys, have you ever gotten a lap fuck from a girl who wiggled around? You know, not just the normal up and down but with a lot of hip action? Did she grind? Did she basically do that hip dance you see strippers do while on stage? If she did all those things, then you can imagine what I was doing to that stupid phallus. Of course having my ass pinned as well didn’t make it easy. In short, the chair did everything it could to keep me from being able to work myself into a frenzy, while do everything it could to encourage me to TRY to work myself into a frenzy.
Not that the limits placed on my hips did ANYTHING to stop the oncoming orgasm. I came with a powerful flood and put both palms down flat on the table, gasping like a landed fish and wincing as the muscles in my pussy, ass, stomach, legs, and even arms all tensed. That hurt. Then I was cumming and it felt like liquid nirvana, anesthetic from the gods. Of course the pain from my injuries just melded into the explosion, making it deeper, more intense, and increasing the power. It left me gasping, blinking spots from my eyes.
You would expect this is where Kari would turn everything off, I’d be unbuckled and unstrapped and released, right? Maybe put back on the wooden horse at the worst. Right?
Nope. She kept me on the stool another twenty minutes until I was almost, but not quite back to the same level I was moments before when I was cumming my brains out. But then before I could explode again, leaving the wooden stool oiled and wet with my juices, she stopped it all and I was unstrapped, released, pulled up right, and marched back into the living room. Straight to the wooden horse.
Had I not been so charged, so horny, so ready to cum, I’m not sure I could have mounted the stools. I swung my leg over, heavy now, a little tired. I was already hurting between the legs and I wasn’t even sitting yet. Once again, Kari decided not to insert my vibroballs into my pussy, which was probably a good idea at that point because I would have cum pretty quick. So I stood on tip toes as my wrists were bound behind my back and then was told to either settle or have the stools yanked out from underneath me.
Fire laced agony rushed up through my groin as I settled down. The stools were removed and Robert and Kari quickly yanked my feet outward, making things even more painful for me as my thighs no longer could help with my weight. The spreader bar went back on my ankles and I whimpered as my legs were obscenely widened. I could feel my arousal slowly ebbing downward as the pain levels increased and then suddenly Kari was standing there with my seven inch plastic g-spot vibrator and some duct tape.
I blinked as she yanked a strip off the roll of silver tape. Then she placed the vibrator on the spine of the wooden horse, moved it toward me until the little upward curved tip pressed against my clit, and then taped the vibrator into place. I shuddered in awareness, despite the vibrator being off. I rolled a bit, riding the horse and felt the pressure of the vibrator on my clitoris. Then Kari turned it on, twisting the knob at the base around until it roared against my pussy, sending the vibrations directly into my body.
I ride horses a lot. Real ones, not wooden ones, though after this Anniversary Assignment I suspect I’ll be riding wooden ones more frequently too. But I ride real horses a lot. Riding horses can be a lot of fun, and it’s a lot of work too. We have four horses at our place, including my own mare, Star. She’s a quarter horse, pretty gentle, and I love riding around our farm on her. I have my own saddle as well. And let me tell you, every woman’s saddle ever made should have a vibrator built in so that when she sits on it, a little leather covered knob should press against her clit. It so totally changes the ride. Trust me on this. In retrospect, I wouldn’t mind a removable dildo either, twelve inches long and four inches thick.
I began thrusting on the pony, wiggling my hips. Between the repeated oil applications, cleanings, and the copious amount of juice leaking from between my legs, the wooden horse was a little slippery, so I wasn’t able to move either closer or away from the vibrator taped in front of me. That was just as well because I wasn’t trying. I was actually fucking both the horse and the vibrator. It just looked silly because my hands were behind my back and desperation was making my hips churn and jerk because I couldn’t get what my pussy needed. My ride on the wooden horse changed from sexual desperation laced agony to agony laced sexual desperation. Talk about a total switch. Granted, I’d been there a few times before, but not like this. The build up for a clitoral orgasm was steady, but the combination of stimulation to my clit along with the friction and pressure on my pussy, my labia pressed painfully between my thighs and the wood, and I spiraled up toward climax pretty quickly.
Which was why Kari was standing right there and turned the vibrator completely off when I started panting. So I begged. I moaned. I pleased. I offered her things. Anything actually.
“So you want it back on?” she asked, knowing that every second the vibrator was off was costing me energy and letting me slide back down to just agony.
I nodded, “Please! God yes! Please Kari!”
“It will cost you.”
“Anything! PLEASE!” I replied.
“Clamps.” Kari’s tone was hard.
I swallowed. It took only a second to decide. I nodded.
A bucket of clothespins appeared, held by Robert. I started hyperventilating a bit as Kari drew one out. Each clothespin was wooden and sported a thin white piece of string tied to the metal spring. The strings were about three feet long and I shuddered and winced when Kari lifted the first clothespin up to my breast. She grabbed my tit and squeezed. I had expected her to put it on my nipple, but instead she placed at on the side, pinching the flesh between the wooden jaws. The string was pulled outward to the metal stand still attached to the front of the wooden horse and left dangling. A second clothespin came out and was put on the outside of my breast an inch away from the first.
And so on. Before she turned on the vibrator my chest sported about a dozen clothespins that pinched the skin all around both breasts. It wasn’t very sexual, or very comfortable. The strings were bundled into two thick strands which lay on opposite sides of the center beam of the metal stand. Finally she capped the entire process with two more clothespins, these pinned directly onto my nipples, tugging them outward. The strings attached went with the others and then Kari bundled up both groups, twisting them together into one knot.
With a touch of her finger the vibrator pressed to my clit went back into overdrive and I started humping the horse again. You have to understand what goes on when you ride a wooden horse. First of all, it’s much crueler than riding a wooden pony, which is basically the same thing except that the rider can touch the ground, barely. As their calves tire, their legs give out and they put all their weight on the spine of the horse until they can lift themselves back up. Thus they are really BOUNCING on the wooden pony. Get it? Riding a wooden horse is very different. First of all, there is no up and down movement. There is a rocking movement as you tip your body back and forth, trying to spread your weight from your anus to your clitoris. All of your weight is on your pubis and there is no relief. It’s worse if there are twenty or so pounds of wet sand hanging off your ankles. So as I rolled back and forth, my hips literally grinding away, my clitoris was frequently mashed against the upturned tip of the vibrator. This encouraged me to “ride” faster, which while causing me more hurt, also managed to get me more sexually frustrated. The clothespins on my breasts were throbbing painfully as well, but in a very different way from the agony between my legs. My eyes were starting to roll up into the back of my head as I shuddered. I could feel my release approaching, a wave of pain laced need that both hurt and pleasured at the same time.
Kari turned off the vibrator.
I screamed at that point in frustration and anger, my hips shaking. I think I even said some very impolite things too, though I don’t remember what came out of my mouth. All I remember now is Kari glaring at me and then hooking a five pound weight to the knot of strings dangling off the cross beam of the metal support strut in front of me. I know because it was a fucking barbell you use for weight lifting and it had a big old FIVE written on both ends.
Like magic, the pain in my crotch went away. It was amazing! Of course, suddenly my breasts felt as if someone was ripping them off my chest. I squealed like a stuck pig. My antics caused the weight to bounce up and down and first one, then another of the clothespins suddenly snapped off my breasts. I shook some more and clothespins started flying. In two seconds I went from a dozen to two and then the last two, the ones on my nipples were yanked off as well. The five pound weight hit the ground even as Kari suddenly covered my mouth with her hand, muffling my scream.
Which was probably a good thing since I let loose at that point. Either the neighbors are used to funny noises coming from Kari’s apartment or she managed to quiet me down enough that no one noticed it. To be honest, Kari and I have been “caught” more than once, though I admit the most memorable was that night at the fountain and the bike cop, but we’ve never been hauled off to jail and I didn’t want to start that Saturday.
Of course none of this went through my mind. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only thought I was thinking was OWWWWW. While OWWWWW isn’t exactly an enlightened response to having your breasts yanked off your chest, it isn’t exactly unexpected now, is it?
And while I was heaving against Kari’s embracing arms and smothering hand, she reached down and turned on the vibrator again.
And brought me back up.
And turned it off again.
Then on again.
Do you understand what she was doing? I didn’t. Not at the time. All I knew was that I was so horny, so desperate, so wanting that I would have suffered ANYTHING to orgasm. Had Kari told me “in order to cum you have to watch me do a hand job on Robert with the Vampire Glove” and I would have been FINE with that. That’s how fucked up I was.
And when Kari finally let me cum I had been on the wooden horse for an hour and fifteen minutes. That left the same exact amount to go.
I didn’t even have to use my safe word. As soon as I came back down to earth Robert was lifting me from the horse, my legs were freed and I was carried to the bedroom and placed gently on the bed. My wrists were freed and I was left lying there on the sheets, still shuddering occasionally, still hurting, still overwhelmed from the warmth of orgasm. Robert left the vibroballs in, but turned them to low, which was also a blessing. They let me rest a full twenty minutes with just Robert slowly caressing my back, my shoulders, my arms, and my bottom. It wasn’t even sexual, just… tender.
But when Kari came back into the room, this time holding two ceramic bowls, I knew that relaxation time was over. I protested with whimpers and groans as I was flipped over onto my back and once again stretched to the far corners of the bed, wrists and ankles fettered to the permanently installed clips that frequently held Robert but now secured me. I moaned as the vibroballs were tugged out of my pussy. It hurt. My petals were bruised. My tailbone was bruised. My pubis was bruised. Even my CLIT had been crushed frequently and then VIBRATED. What was next? Fire and Ice?
Yes. Exactly. Kari lifted the frozen condom and held it up. It was lubricated in mineral oil, which only prevented it from freezing to my skin, especially when inserted. But it still was a condom, filled with water and left to solidify in a freezer. Kari had been using this torture on me for years. And with the ice always came one other thing: my metal dildo. It was shaped from a steel blank and hand crafted by one of the guys who we repeatedly milked during our sophomore year of college. He liked it for some strange odd reason and even spent three months as Kari’s boy toy sex slave. He left one day without a note or anything and wouldn’t return phone calls. If he saw either of us at school, he’d turn around immediately and practically run away. But I got a sweet sex toy out of it.
Why a steel dildo you might ask? Because of what it can do. First of all, it’s smooth and so hard. Second, you can immerse it in hot water and it absorbs the heat. That’s what Kari likes to do, or stick it in an oven on warm, let it heat up until you can barely hold it, and then ram it into something wet, preferably after letting the ice dildo melt in there first.
I lifted my head, looking down in horror. No way! She wouldn’t. Kari’s eyes flashed with delight as she held up the ice dildo for me to see, then lowered it to my clit. A searing flash of cold sliced through me and I pulled violently against my bonds.
“Some say the world will end in fire, Breanne” Kari whispered, quoting Frost. “And some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.” Kari’s eyes glittered and Robert knelt on the bed behind her, looking down at me as the ice dildo rubbed back and forth across my clit. “But if you had to orgasm twice, I think I know enough of love to say that ice is nice, and will suffice.”
Robert clamped his hand over my mouth as I screamed again. The ice dildo went in smoothly, deeply, and hard.
And only one thought crept through the blistering, glacial, freezing torment.
Robert Frost was turning in his grave. To watch.