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Michael Alexander Stories

Breaking My Record - By Breanne Erickson

Part 1

I guess I should probably introduce myself.  Some of you know me.  Some of you don’t.  If you’ve ever read Michael Alexander’s “Silver Locke”, “Heart of Ice”, or “The Museum of Inquisition”, you’ve probably met the character that’s based on me.  If you’ve ever read Michael’s BDSM Blog or his website then you’ve probably read most of my previous daily assignments.  Hope you enjoyed them. I know I did!

But if you’re new, then give me just a moment to explain.  I’ve been friends with Michael for years.  In January, he asked me to jump back in to things and help him with his website and blog, keeping things spicy while he worked on new stories.  I couldn’t resist.  Okay, to be honest, he was paying me.  But hey, that’s the way the world works, right?  So I started these daily assignments.  Things started off sort of easy and then just spiraled out of control.  Feel free to read all the assignments if you enjoy this one.  There are tons of them.  I swear!  The whole archive is available in the VIP LOUNGE at Michael Alexander Stories.

But let me set the scene.  All of my assignments are sort of sexual in nature.  Okay, not just sort of, but totally.  It doesn’t help that I am a self labeled nympho humiliation pain slut.  What can I say? I’m voracious!  (If you hear that rumble, it’s me growling playfully!)  So after a rather busy month of May I got the assignment below, and after that, is what happened. 

This Week’s Assignment: (Assigned by Master Stone) You mention that your current record for the most number of orgasms in one day is 18. You will arrange a day to spend with your former Mistress Kari and ask her to force you to break your record. She can use any means she desires to get you to that point.

On Saturday night I spent over an hour primping.  I rubbed in like a gallon of lotion into every pore.  I shaved myself clean and even used a bit of depilatory, just in case.  I washed my hair.  I did everything I could think of to make sure that I was ready for Sunday Morning.

Geeze, you'd think I was getting ready for church.

At about 6:15am I piled into my truck dressed in pretty much my usual.  Flip flops on my feet, a pair of blue jean shorts, with a rather conservative pair of slightly pink bikini style panties, followed by an Abercrombie & Fitch tee shirt.  I wasn't wearing a bra though.  When you know you're going to spend the day naked, why go to the trouble, right?  Besides, I knew how things worked with Kari.

Kari and I go way back, all the way to middle school actually.  We were fifteen when our friendship turned sexual, and that happened because Kari found her Dad's VHS porn collection, all of which catered too a slightly darker perversion than your standard Playboy Channel programming.  I remember spending the night over at Kari's house, her separated parents leaving us alone as her Mom went line dancing and her Dad was off entertaining his secretary.  Kari had whispered conspiratorially that she had to show me something.

We spent an hour watching this pretty young blonde girl get tied to a table, whipped, covered in hot wax, and then rather brutally fucked with a number of vegetables.  I spent the entire time riveted, shocked, appalled, all the while trying to deal with the surging of my own pussy, the wet moisture coating my thighs, trying not to reach down between my legs.  By the time the video was done I had my hand under the blanket across my lap and I was pressing rather hard on my clit.  It became clear, just from our conversation and making fun of each of the tapes that Kari identified with the dominatrixes, while I envisioned myself as the victims.

For maybe three months afterward we watched every tape in Kari's possession.  Even after her parent's divorce finalized, Kari liberated the tapes. I guess her dad figured his now ex-wife threw them out.  Finally, after watching several of them multiple times, both of us trying hard to hide our masturbatory yearning from each other, Kari invited me over while her mom was out trying to catch a new man.  She brought three of our favorite tapes to the room, laid them out, and told me to pick one.  Not to watch, but to act out.  I picked the tape we watched that very first night and I ended up tied naked to the coffee table while Kari did every single thing on the tape to me.  That was the beginning of my sexual slavery to her.

Our D/s relationship lasted four and a half years; four and a half years of wild sex, insane requirements, and more orgasms than I ever thought possible.  Kari kept me in a sexually aroused state for almost the entire time, taking me to parties, giving me to various boyfriends, or even just acquaintances, and generally running every little detail.  It was even more intense once we shared an apartment together in college, and if you've ever read Michael's "Angie" stories, just know that he based those on Kari's and my relationship.

Kari and I decided to part ways in the middle of our sophomore year in college.  I moved out, and though we maintained our friendship, including the occasional sexual romp, I needed space and Kari decided she preferred domming guys.  Weird, huh?  Together we did a few, mostly milkings and stuff, and it was fun, but I'm a bottom.  I need to be the one getting tortured and sexually abused, not the other way around.  Kari is intense.  I'm more laid back.  Kari is a neat freak. I'm a bit of a slob until I can't stand the chaos any more.  In some ways we were like oil and water.  In others...well...we were like a really awesome sex tape!

We are still friends, even after graduating from college.  I'm a farm girl, despite my degree.  Kari is a successful interior designer in Houston, has her own office, and has her very own sex slave named Robert.  Of course Robert is actually number six over the last four or five years.  She is pretty hard on her boy toys.  Some only last six months.  The longest lasted just over a year.  Robert is actually doing pretty good at eight months or so and he might even win the record.  We'll see.  Kari can be...difficult to deal with sometimes.  Gosh.  I'm glad I said that AFTER what she did to me yesterday.  If she had read that before hand....

Just a tad bit before seven a.m. I pulled up into the posh and up-scale luxury apartment complex Kari lived in.  Her Dad had fronted the start-up cash for Kari's business, but that doesn't mean Kari isn't really good at what she does.  She earns her money and it shows in her taste of clothing, decorations, furniture, her Jaguar, practically in everything.  It also doesn't help that she is blond, beautiful, thin in a willowy way, and makes me look particularly plain and unattractive.  I've got brown hair cut short, freckles, blue eyes, and white pasty skin except where I have a farmer's tan.  Even when I was in college I wasn't model quality.  I dyed my hair red back then, and wore it long, and granted I had a bit more weight on me then, topping out at 125lbs for my five foot four inch height.  I'm thinner now.  I guess all the farm work I do, but gosh, I'm like a dandelion planted next to a rose.  Everyone says I’m beautiful, but if Kari and I were both at a bar, she would get bought a drink first.  It’s just the way it is.

I grabbed my bag, got out of my car and found myself trembling.  When I called two weeks earlier, explaining the assignment Master Stone had given me, you should have heard the silence.  I could tell Kari was doing some pretty hefty thinking.  She agreed to my request, but had some fairly serious stipulations.  One: that I arrive at seven a.m. naked on her doorstep.  Two:  that I bring all of my toys with me.  Three: that I submit completely, no arguments.  And Four: that there are no safe words for the day's activities.

I had agreed.  What else could I do?  Besides, Kari was well aware of my limits, of how far I would go, and what I liked.  I knew that she wouldn't do anything to permanently hurt me, or disfigure me, or make me do something I didn't want.  Granted, the idea of no safe words concerned me a bit, but that merely meant she would be doing some things to me that I wasn't going to be able to stop.  Not things I wouldn't want done to me.  Does that make sense?

I padded up the stairs to her apartment door, glancing around.  Seven a.m. is late enough in the morning that a little bit of activity wouldn't have surprised me.  But thankfully I saw no one.  I stopped in front of her door, set my bag down and began the process of stripping.  First I unzipped my duffle and then took off my shirt.  The air temperature was perfect and my nipples contracted due to the possible exposure to strangers, not to the gentle warmth of a Texas spring morning.  My thumbs hooked into both my shorts and my panties, pushing them down to my ankles and I stepped out of my flip flops at the same time as I kicked off my clothing.  I stuffed everything in my bag hurriedly, not wanting to spend extra time on the doorstep naked, at the mercy of luck.

Totally ready, I knocked on the door.  No one answered.  Glancing around nervously, I knocked again, a bit louder this time.  I kept waiting.  Kari left me on the doorstep for a full four minutes, standing naked, before answering the door.  I knew she was doing it on purpose.  When she finally opened up, I gasped in astonishment at her attire.  Kari had never before dressed like a dominatrix, at least not for me.  She preferred something more comfortable I guess; but not today.  Today she was dressed in a black latex cat suit that left not a single soft curve undefined.  I couldn't help it.  She looked incredible and my mouth watered almost as much as my pussy.  I wanted to bow down and worship her.  She beckoned me into her abode and I stepped across the threshold with my bag, feeling rather plain and homely.

Kari was holding a crop, which seemed to match her leather outfit and before the door closed she swung it hard at my rear end.  I jumped and let out a little cry as it struck me.  To be honest, it was mostly in surprise, but then the door closed and Kari pushed me forward into the living room. 

One

"Put your bag on the coffee table and get out your cuffs and collar" she ordered.  I didn't dare disobey.  The crop was still swishing in her hand.  I looked around as I got out the bondage gear.  Robert wasn't around, though he could have been in the back bedroom.  In a few seconds I had the both the ankle and wrist cuffs out, quickly followed by the black leather dog collar.  I looked at Kari, expecting another order.  Instead, I received another swat from the crop which landed across my buttocks with a deep sting.  I bit my lip for that one, though I couldn't help tightening my rear end and letting a quick spasm of trembling demonstrate my body's response to the blow.

"Get them on" she said, using the crop to point to my gear.  Both the ankle and wrist cuffs were foam padded velcro closing toys Kari had bought for me years before from Spencer's.  The collar was a more recent acquisition, made at one of our local pet stores in another assignment meant to humiliate me.  I quickly did what I was asked and ended up wearing my bondage gear and nothing else.  I turned and face Kari, ready for her next order. 

Kari grinned at me, her hand waving the crop around slightly.  "Lay down on the coffee table, on your back." 

I nodded and immediately did it, memories of our very first time together coming back to me.  The lacquered wood felt cold on my bottom and back and I raised my hands above my head, spreading my legs to the sides of my makeshift torture table.  It was a large coffee table and probably a bit sturdier than really necessary, but I suspect that I'm not the first nor the last person to be bound upon it.  Kari spent less than a minute securing my wrists and ankles and in short order I was now a table centerpiece, albeit a rather large and totally naked one.  Evidently someone had equipped the table with little clips that made quick work of keeping my hands and feet in the appropriate places.  I felt a little bit of rope being threaded around my knees as well, pulling me tight and making sure that I couldn't close my legs even if I wanted.  I kept seeing Kari's evil little smile.

Kari held up a gag. I hate gags, and this was one of those big red rubber ball gags.  I'm not a fan of gags because they're uncomfortable and I just don't like drooling all over myself.  How the hell is THAT sexy?  In hindsight, I realize that Kari was gagging me because she lives in an apartment complex and having me screaming in either agony or ecstasy wasn't decent etiquette for being a good neighbor.  All this was good because almost immediately after getting me strapped to the table she began hitting me with the crop.  She started on my breasts of course, and not lightly either.  In seconds I was straining against my bonds, muted squeals trying to escape from around the tightly buckled gag.  The leather loop on the end of her crop snapped at my nipples, sending little sparks of pain shooting through my breasts and I couldn't help rolling slightly in order to keep her from hitting the tips of my breasts.  This did very little to mitigate my discomfort, since Kari merely switched to hitting me directly on the clit.  Everytime I moved she seemed to move between my tender spots, striking a breast before hitting my clit.  Back and forth, sometimes repeating strikes several times before I moved again.  In the end I was shuddering and pumping my hips up to meet the crop as Kari brought the little whip down over and over between my legs.  I'm not even sure how or why I came, just that I did, arching my back and moaning in obvious pleasure as my pussy contracted and a let out a tiny squirt of juice.

She stopped, putting the little crop aside and she walked over to the end table and picked up a small notepad.  She made a mark in it and then came back to me.  Next a large glass bottle appeared in her hand, pulled from the bottom shelf of one of the end tables.  I could see the words "Grapeseed oil" on the label as she poured a healthy dose of the clear liquid into her cupped palm and then let it spill over and dribble across my neck, chest, belly, and legs.  I moaned in pleasure, relaxing as Kari massaged me.  And it was no half-ass rub down either.  She did the bottoms of my feet, the insides of my thighs, right up to my forehead and cheeks.  When she seemed to have touched every part of me I felt her hands between my legs, oily fingers sliding through my petals, spreading, fondling, touching, stroking me into finding sexual nirvana for a second time.  I closed my eyes, totally entranced with the sensations her delicate and knowledgeable fingers were causing.

And then she grabbed a new item from the end table; a candle.  A lighter followed suit and she lit the red beeswax candle and set it down upon the table.  The lighter disappeared and I knew what was coming.  How could I not?  I seriously doubted Kari had brought out that candle for atmosphere, much less the pleasant scent.  Kari continued to caress me for a few minutes, obviously letting the small bright flame melt enough of the paraffin so that there would be sufficient wax to cover the salient parts.  Knowing I was going to be waxed changed a lot.  I was tense, and no longer feeling the same pleasure as I was before.  Then, without even a word of warning, Kari grabbed the candle and upended it over my left breast.  Hot droplets fell, burning me, coating my nipple and basically baking it in a sexual oven made of wax.  I remember thrusting my hips forward as two fingers dipped into my pussy, driving in and pulling upward all at the same time.  I let out a squeal that was immediately stopped by the gag and then jerked in time with both the burning droplets that now fell upon my right breast, as well as Kari’s fingers inside me.

I was close to cumming again, but she didn’t let me.  She timed her movements to just barely keep me at the edge.  In hindsight, I know what she was doing, what she was planning, but at the time all I knew was that my breasts were being baked, heat simmering my nipples while two tantalizing fingers moved within me, bringing me closer to my second orgasm.  I thrust my hips, trying to work myself into a frenzy, but it wasn’t until the candle had melted another full splash that she let me achieve what I was looking for.  A thumb pressed up against my clit, rubbing softly and I tensed as the first tremor rushed through me.   I screamed again, silently, and the thumb moved.  It didn’t matter.  I didn’t need it anymore.   Then she upended the candle, letting out maybe a teaspoon of hot melted wax directly above my clit.

I was already in the throes of orgasm and the rushing pain only intensified the orgasm, my entire body tightening in agony and pleasure as my overloaded nerves tried to handle the chorus of sensations.  I think I actually shook violently, my buttocks bouncing up and down on the coffee table.  I could feel my heels rapping the wooden legs as I pulled against my bonds, eyes wide, pussy quivering.  It continued for almost a full minute before the waves of orgasmic bliss slowly ebbed and I was able to control my body.  Heat still pooled over my breasts and now my pussy, but it was a soft heat, like a warming pad, or a hot wet cloth draped over your body.  When I had finally relaxed, Kari was running her hands across my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, bending over to kiss me, her long blond hair tickling my nose.

Two

I’m not sure how long I lay like that, but when Kari sat back on the sofa I saw Robert standing at the end of the sofa.  Robert is amazing.  He is super buff and I know he likes going to the gym.  He was wearing the most amazing leather harness I have ever seen in my life.  It had like a zillion straps that went around his torso tightly and even cupped his balls.  Smaller straps literally encircled his outstretched and rock hard cock, and seemed to be connected to the larger harness. 
Robert is Kari’s current boy toy.  I’ve had both the pleasure of sucking his cock, and getting fucked silly by him.  Twice actually.  Awhile back I borrowed Kari’s paddle and I had spent half a day helping her milk him, which despite my more submissive nature, was a lot of fun.  Of course, I also got a little abuse myself that day, but it was more for his visual stimulation, than for my pleasure.  But Kari was in charge.  Kari is always in charge.

Robert bent down at my feet and gently began to release my bonds.  He didn’t take the cuffs off, rather he just unclipped them from the various attachments holding me to the coffee table.  While his fingers worked at the knots holding my knees apart Kari leaned over.

“Stay in that position, sweetie” she ordered me.

I knew better than to object and I kept still despite the urge to close my legs and clasp my hands across my chest.  After Robert freed my knees the only thing I did was arch my feet a few times.  In short order he released my hands and then stood directly above me, giving me an incredible view of his trussed up cock and balls.

Kari handed him the crop.

“Whip the wax off her.” 

Oh God.

Robert didn’t hesitate nor did he pull his strokes, which were easily as hard as the ones I had already endured.  He started on my breasts, moving back and forth between the two mounds as the cooled paraffin cracked and broke, revealing my turgid and slightly cooked nipple.  It was everything I could do not to cover up.  Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it any longer he bent over slightly and struck me right between my legs, shattering wax and unsealing my pussy.  His stroke also reignited the agony I had endured from both the earlier whipping and the scalding burn.  I couldn’t help jerking my legs closed but the glare from Kari’s eyes were enough to encourage me to open my legs again, this time spreading them as far as I could, knowing full well that my obedience would result in even a more delicate and sensitive target being presented for the kiss of the crop.

And kiss me it did, right on the clit, eliciting another sharp scream from my distended and ball gagged stuffed mouth.  I closed my eyes, squealing around the rubber ball and shuddered as another stroke landed in the soft heated morass of sensation between my legs.  Robert flicked the whip with expert skill and now, after my entire session, I’ve realized that he actually was using as few strokes as possible to flick large chunks of wax away from me.  I lost count of how many times the crop landed, but eventually it ended and Kari took the crop away from Robert.  I must have missed the whispered commands and I found myself in his arms, lifted like a child as he carried me to their bedroom.

Kari’s bedroom is combination modern elegance meets modern dungeon.  She has a full king sized bed that sits on an all metal frame with tall posts at each corner and a matching intricate metal headboard.  To be honest, the whole thing was designed with the idea of being able to secure multiple persons in multiple locations in multiple positions.  I have no doubt that Robert has spent a number of rather uncomfortable evenings on that bad.  Hey look!  We have something ELSE in common!

Robert laid me in the center of the bed on my back.  I admit that it felt much better than the coffee table, and I wondered what was coming next.  Kari had followed us into the bedroom and they began pulling out a whole series of long straps.  In a few moments my legs had been drawn up into the air, lifting my ass off the mattress and spreading my thighs as my feet were secured to the tops of the footboard posts.  Kari left the room as Robert then secured my wrists, pulling my arms above my head, but leaving me enough slack that I could scratch my nose and even free myself if I really needed too.

Then he joined me on the bed, moving down between my legs.  I think I mentioned I’ve had sex with Robert and even given him a rather impressive blow job.  What I’ve never done with Robert, is let him give ME oral sex. 

I’m not opposed to oral sex.  In fact, I love giving it.  Receiving it isn’t unpleasant either, but it’s not really something that drives me.  I mean sure, it gets me wet and the engine revving, but it will NEVER get me over the edge.  Well, at least not usually.  I guess I shouldn’t say never, should I?
Robert was an expert at eating pussy, which is no surprise.  I suspect he does it every day, probably several times.  I know I ate a lot of pussy too when I was Kari’s slave. She may prefer cock, but she likes a lot of tongue too.  Robert, as I said, is an expert, and his mouth began to work its magic on my tender slit even as his fingers pulled a last few slivers of wax from my skin.  I can’t even begin to describe the sensation, especially after being whipped and waxed.  It was like ambrosia, soft, sweet, delicate, and totally comfortable.

I’ve been eaten out before.  It’s normally a relatively quick experience.  Especially if you are like me and want to get into something more intense.  But if you’ve ALREADY cum and are now on the rebound, it feels great.  But Robert didn’t just use his tongue on me.  He spent like THIRTY MINUTES using his tongue on me.  Do you have any idea what that’s like?  He worked every facet of my sex; the folds, the valley, my clit, the hood, even driving his tongue into my well.  I can’t even begin to say this enough.  Wow.

And then he mounted me.  He was kneeling and he just took his face away from between my legs and then pushed his cock into me.  He didn’t even take off the harness or straps and it was the strangest feeling.  I groaned through the gag, eyes rolling into the back of my head as my pussy contracted around him.  He moved in and out, the edges of the straps around his cock pulling at my well.  It was too much…again.  I shivered, my body trembling and then I came for the second time.

Read Part Two

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