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The Silver Locke

Michael Alexander Stories

The Shirt by Breanne Erickson

 

I pulled open the door quietly and glanced down the upstairs hallway.  Dark ripples varied with beams of sunlight through glass windows.  The hall was deserted, just as I expected.  My darting eyes moved left and right, quickly analyzing the best way to proceed.  Theft is never an easy thing and the last thing I wanted was to get caught.  I was dressed inconspicuously of course; flip flops, blue denim skirt, a pair of dark pink panties, white cotton bra, and a tee shirt.  But if you got close, and I mean really close, you might have also heard the slight buzzing coming suspiciously from my under my skirt and beneath the panties.

 That was the vibroballs trembling inside me. 

 Yes.  It is tough to commit theft when you’re being sexually stimulated, but I’m used to it.  Oh… not theft! I mean being sexually stimulated.  I’m a NHPS: nympho humiliation pain slut.  Of course on that day, that afternoon, I was ALSO a thief.

 I hurried down the hall, my flip flops clack clacking along despite the plush carpet.  I found the appropriate door and turned the knob, knowing the room behind was empty.  I had carefully cased the joint first, making sure that those who also had access were busy elsewhere in the facility.  The door creaked a little and I winced, freezing.  I wasn’t sure it would be heard. 

 When no one appeared to investigate, I entered the room.  It was dark and I didn’t dare turn on the light.  I navigated the darkness with the aid of a few stray beams of sunlight filtering through the closed blinds.  There were only a few obstacles to avoid and I did so easily.  Familiarity is a handy thing to a thief, and I had been in this room hundreds, if not thousands of times before.  Hell, in all probability, I was CONCEIVED in this room.

 I found the inner sanctum.  I was going to need a bit of light at this point, and a quick flick illuminated the tiny chamber where my sought after booty was hung.  Moving as fast as possible, I snatched my prize off the bar with only a slight clang as metal scratched metal and then I had it pressed to my chest.  This would be the hard part. Escape.  I couldn’t fold it, couldn’t hide it away.  Speed was my only option.  I almost forgot to turn off the light…

 Once more I checked the hall.  Deserted.  Thank God.  I stepped out into the bleak light, totally exposed, my prize clearly visible.  Just a few more steps!  I almost tripped I moved so fast and I snatched at the door knob leading to safety.  It opened and I pushed my stolen goods through first.

 “Breanne?” my mom’s voice came from the stairwell.  I turned and looked.  Her head had just appeared and my hand quivered as I held the item inside my room, against the wall, hoping she hadn’t seen.

 “Yes, Mom?” I asked innocently. I’ve had lots of practice at this.  I’m REAL good at feigning innocence.  Trust me on this.

 “Would you mind grabbing a new towel for the downstairs bathroom? The one down here got dirty.” 

 I smiled, nodding.  “Sure, I’ll bring it down in a moment.”

 Mom returned the grin and then disappeared downstairs.  Disaster averted. I slipped into my room and closed the door.  Holding up my prize I looked at it with a mixture of fear and excitement.  I would need it in just a few hours.  Hopefully Dad wouldn’t miss it either.  He had enough of them, though he only wore them on Sunday morning for church and we had already done that… come and gone.  I lifted the metal hanger and stuck it on the hook in my closet.  It had to stay unwrinkled of course. Who on earth would want to wear a dress shirt, a man’s six button dress shirt, wrinkled?

 Not me.

 Getting the shirt to my truck was actually easier than you would think.  I merely hid it inside another article of clothing.  I told my parents I was heading off to Kari’s place, which was absolutely true, if not exactly a correct timeline of my afternoon’s itinerary.  They told me to have a good time, but I doubted if they could even comprehend what I was about to do.  And that the words “good time” might be considered slightly inappropriate.

 Once in the truck I turned my vibroballs off.  It felt good to just sit in quiet bliss for a moment.  Don’t get me wrong, I like having the vibroballs in me.  NHPS Rule #1 says that I have to be stuffed at all times.  Granted, I wish it were with cock.  Real cock, but unfortunately I can’t strap a Viagra dosed guy to my backside (too bad huh?) with his cock buried inside me.  But I can and do put a variety of sex toys up there to keep me… uh… how was that description? Oh yes… wet and ready.  I started up the truck and in four minutes pulled out onto the rather infrequently traveled Farm to Market road that runs along the southern border of our farm. 

 It’s not much of a road, granted.  The asphalt is so old that in some places it’s more gravel than solid roadway.  The yellow double line you aren’t supposed to cross is more like a guideline, which in some spots is pretty dangerous because you think you’re allowed to “pass” when technically it’s not a good idea.  Of course, it’s more common to have to pass someone’s tractor than another car.  Me though, I pulled over to the side of the road.

Ever since last year I’ve been using this deserted stretch of road to do something just a bit daring and in some cases, just a tad bit illegal.  I stopped the truck, got out, and moved to the grill with a few items from the cab.  Of course I was still dressed in my “thieving” attire, but I quickly managed to remove my tee shirt and bra, folding both neatly and placing them on the hood of the car. 

 Yes, I was naked from the waist up, but I’m used to it, and I think I can count the number of times I’ve been observed stripping and changing here on one hand.  As usual, there was no one moving around in the Texas heat and I didn’t linger.  It’s fucking hot here and the last thing I wanted to do was start sweating buckets.  In short order my denim skirt joined the shirt and bra and I pulled the white dress shirt off the hanger and quickly slipped into it. 

 It was huge on me.  I’m petite and my dad is not.  I had to roll up the sleeves almost to the elbows just to make them fit my arms.  I buttoned it up too.  Well, mostly.  There were seven buttons if you count the one at the collar and not the stupid fake one at the bottom.  I was allowed four.  So I started as low as possible and worked my way up.  That didn’t work.  It left the collar wide open, so I unbuttoned the one at the bottom, revealing a bit… ok… a lot of bare thigh, and got things tightened up at the top. 

 The next item was a bit trickier to get on.  First I tugged my panties down.  Not off mind you.  Just down.  Then I strapped on my butterfly. 

 Now I’m not talking a bug here.  I’m talking a butterfly shaped sex toy.  Yes, I know… a little weird and girly, right.  Well I didn’t make it. I just wear it.  It has four straps which enables the wearer (me) to fit it snuggly, directly and purposefully, right over my clitoris.  The straps tighten nicely and even if I was running, that little butterfly shaped plastic piece would sit over my clit.  It has a small bump on the underside, a sort of probe for that man-made insect sitting on my “flower”.  On the front side there is a three position switch.  One setting is off, which is where the switch was at that moment.  The other two options were “low” and “high”.  I left the butterfly clitoral stimulator alone. I didn’t need the distraction.

 But I pulled my panties back up and tucked the wired remote leading to the vibroballs right into the waist band.  Got to keep everything neat, right?  I wasn’t planning on wearing the flip flops, but since I had more driving to do, I kept them on, gathered up my clothes, and headed back to the cool air conditioned cab. 

 The drive wasn’t bad.  Traffic toward Houston’s downtown was light thanks to the weekend, and despite the fact I had never ever been to my destination, the directions Kari had provided me were up to her usual standards; perfect.  Of course as each mile passed under my truck’s wheels, I felt my insides tighten, and I don’t mean my pussy tightening around the silent vibroballs. I mean my stomach clenching in panic and fear.  It’s one thing to strip on the side of a rarely traveled road.  It’s something else when you do it… well… I guess I shouldn’t get a head of myself, right?

 The parking lot was surrounded by a forest of trees, immaculately sculpted landscaping, and even a really pretty fountain right in the middle of a grassy courtyard garden.  I pulled my truck in to one of the available parking spaces and then realized that once again I was a dandelion amidst a garden of roses.  My beat up Ford F-150 was the only vehicle there that was older than three years.  It was also a bit dirty.  It was also the only pick up.  There were a few SUVs of course.  Two Hummers, an Infinity, a few BMWs, but most of the cars in the lot were sedans; expensive ones.

 I slipped out of my flip flops and put on my fuck me shoes.  These were a purchase I made almost a year before and I had been forced to wear them often enough that I was used to the eight inches of height they added to my stature.  Technically, the heels were only four inchers, but when you added a four inch sole to both heel and toe you can get some serious height.

 And serious wobble.  I’ve practiced enough with them not to look ridiculous, but still, it pays to have a hand out to catch yourself on these platform fuck me shoes.  You know what I’m talking about, right?  Strippers wear them all the time while dancing.  They LOOK awesome, but let me tell you, each step is a disaster waiting to happen.  But thankfully I didn’t fall. 

 I looked around for Kari’s car, but her BMW convertible was not to be seen.  She had told me to go in and not to wait, which I felt was incredibly cruel.  I took a deep breath.  Dressed in just a man’s semi-buttoned dress shirt, panties, and high heel stripper shoes, I carefully moved across the parking lot and went into the restaurant.

 Cool air surrounded me immediately and the change in temperature was a welcome relief, until I noticed that my nipples had suddenly stiffened and were now making two incredibly sharp points at the front of the shirt.  Thank God I hadn’t been directed to wear nipple clamps too!  That thought went through my mind and I felt the sudden clenching of my pussy.  Damn! I forgot! I was supposed to turn everything on when I went inside!  Before going through the inner doors, I moved to the side, pulled up the shirt slightly, and stuck my fingers into the front of my panties.  A quick flick of the switch on the butterfly almost sent me into paroxysms of ecstasy.  I didn’t set it to low. I set the butterfly stimulator to high, just as ordered.  I bit my lip as the shaking against my most tender, most sensitive sexual trigger sent ripples of bliss upward through me. 

 I grabbed the vibroballs remote and managed to slide the rheostat to maximum too, just as ordered.  My entire pussy was now enduring the sexual equivalent of an earthquake rated at approximately 9.6 on the Richter scale.  On the NHPS scale, with 10 being “Oh God! I’m Cumming!” and 1 being “if you touch me with that you better make sure I’m tied down first” I was already at 8.5 and quickly climbing.  I struggled to take a deep breath and with my hips already doing this weird churning swing, I opened the inner doors and shocked the hell out of the greeter.

 She was younger than me and looked at me in absolute surprise. It would have been comical if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was quickly closing in on the Big O and I really didn’t want to be gushing through my first orgasm standing there in the entry way of the classiest and most expensive restaurant I’ve ever eaten at.  I took another step, stumbling slightly as my pussy went through another series of convulsions and my clit tried to hijack my brain for some serious “let’s get it on” communion.  I bit my lip as I walked up to the little desk the greeter girl was sitting at and then said softly, “Kari’s table please.”

 Kari is my best friend.  She has been since we were in elementary school together.  When I was fifteen she became more than a friend.  She became my lover and mistress.  My sophomore, junior, and senior years of high school were a blur of sexual escapades and exploration that I should probably write down some day.  From my first experience walking the halls of the school, stuffed with golf balls, to being offered as a prize to Kari’s boyfriend, both of them fucking me and ending up in a ménage a trios that would have made an incredible porn flick, to being turned upside down at the park, sans panties, with a melting ice cream cone stuck into my pussy.  Kari was, and still is, inventive.

 We stayed together through our freshman and sophomore years of college, but after two years we both discovered that our relationship wasn’t working out.  Both of us, despite being professed bi-sexuals, discovered we both really really liked boys.  Of course there were other issues. Kari is a hyper-neat freak. I’m not a slob, not really, but if the fucking dishwasher is RUNNING, I’ll put a dirty dish in the sink and come back and put it in the dishwasher later.  Living with Kari, you do that, and I swear to God you will be strapped down to the punishment chair with a twelve inch dildo shoved up inside you while she belts your ass and breasts.  And the whipping only stops when you cum. 

 We both agreed to end our living arrangement and while I found a room mate who had absolutely no sexual interest what-so-ever and happened to be devoutly religious (and disapproving of my sexual activities,) Kari found her first boy toy within a week.  While my roommate Jamie and I had our differences (and some AWESOME arguments), Kari’s first boy toy last two months.  A month later, her second toy began living with her.  A whole procession of sex slaves were enthralled to her during her junior and senior years.

 Her current boy toy Robert has been with her for almost two years now, which makes him the longest lasting slave she’s ever “owned”.  He is a dedicated masochist, totally subservient, but incredibly sweet too.  He works from home, which is actually her apartment, and does stock trading.  Almost every time I’ve met Robert we’ve treated each other as something special.  We both love Kari.  I hate it when she makes me watch him suffer.

 While I am no longer “collared” by Kari, we still have a physical relationship.  I’d tell you all about it, but if you really want to know, you can read about it in some of my other tales.  Trust me, they’re worth it. 

 Today, Kari is an upscale interior designer and makes so much money that she can afford the tab for the restaurant I was currently in.  She’s an incredible friend too.  For example, I am somehow an employee of her interior design business (which I think I’ve actually helped out at two or three times!) and I get free health insurance. I haven’t figured that one out, yet I’m really grateful for it.  Farm girls really don’t have great benefit packages, though admittedly, mine has some unusual perks.

 The point is, using Kari’s name anywhere, is usually a ticket to something rather grand.  I had been directed, specifically, to ask for Kari’s table.  The poor greeter’s eyes widened and she struggled to put my attire and lewdly thrusting hips aside before she nodded and said “right this way please.”  Kari’s name is magic in some places. 

 I followed the girl who was wearing more clothes on her bottom half than I had on my entire body as we threaded our way through the restaurant.  Almost instantly I was the center of attention and the noise level of the place actually dropped as conversations were stilled.  The dining room was half empty, which also meant it was half full and the full half were all, and I mean ALL, staring at me. 

 The place was wood paneled with brass fittings and soft low illumination.  The walls were booths, while the center of the floor had a number of small white cloth covered tables.  The greeter girl led me through the maze to a single table, smack dab in the middle of the restaurant.  There were public sidewalks with more privacy.  A soft hum began again and I was positive the topic of conversation had changed at every single table.  I flushed scarlet from the head all the way down and a quick glance past my now tingling, desperate, and about to orgasm pubis, confirmed it.  Even my toes were red. 

 “Uhh… can I p-p-please have a booth?” I begged the greeter girl quietly through clenched teeth.  I could FEEL the eyes boring into me, especially my back.  She gave me a quizzical look and then bent down to the table.  A card, folded in half, lay on the table. It had been facing away from me but she held it up.  It read “Reserved. Kari’s Table.”  Ah… of course it did.

 “This is the table reserved for Kari, miss,” the greeter girl said, still trying to ignore my attire and behavior.  “She called earlier and said that you shouldn’t wait and to order right away.”

 I heard her, but by this time, I realized two things.  One, I had been set up, as usual when dealing with Kari.  Second, I had to sit down immediately or I was going to do a standing rendition of the scene from “When Harry Met Sally” except without the faking part, and if I was going to be able to keep it quiet and toned down, I needed to be seated.  I yanked a chair outward and fell into it with a “thank you” directed at the greeter girl.  She said something about the waiter, but I was already in the beginning throes of cumming and heard something along the lines of “your waiter siin fnnmasdma sdfmm mmmmmmm” 

 I pressed my thighs together as the spasms shook me to the core.  My eyes closed and my fingers clenched tightly into fists as I locked my jaw and tried very very hard not to gasp, cry out, scream, moan, or even hiss.  I trembled, my hips shifting, my bottom jerking around in the wooden seat.  I’m absolutely positive that I looked like I was passing a kidney stone.

 Or having a super powerful clitoral orgasm right there in the middle of the semi-crowded restaurant.

 My chest was heaving when it was over and I opened my eyes to find a rather astonished waiter standing in front of me.  He was blond, about twenty two or twenty three, and very handsome.

 “Um… I’m Gavin. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, clearly enraptured by what he had just witnessed.  A menu now sat on the table. I glanced around.  Wow… look at all the people staring!  I glanced back at my waiter, Gavin and nodded.  “A Celtic Creamsicle please.”

 He gave me a confused look and I took a deep breath.  The buzzing hadn’t stopped and already I was feeling the rebuilding sensation between my legs.  It made it tough to concentrate.

 “Uh… vanilla ice cream, butter schnapps, Irish cream, and caramel,” I told him.  I don’t drink much and usually on assignments I didn’t drink at all.  But there wasn’t enough alcohol in a Celtic Creamsicle to do me any harm and I needed the sugar.  Ok… the alcohol would be good too.

 “Right away, miss,” he replied.  I watched him back away, not wanting to tear his eyes off me.

 When I was left alone I took another deep breath.  My fingers trembled and I put them in my lap.  I found the bottom button of the shirt, at least the bottom button that was still buttoned.  Quickly I slipped the little plastic disc from the hole and I felt the shirt part around my thighs.  That was the assignment; one orgasm, one button.  One hour or three more orgasms to go.

 I sat stiffly at the table trying to simultaneously ignore the various looks and glances from my fellow diners as well as the steadily building sexual earthquake slipping around inside and against my sex.  I picked up the menu, trying to distract myself.  It didn’t help, but I at least made a selection, deciding on the grilled chicken salad. 

 Gavin returned three or four minutes later with my Celtic Creamsicle, my favorite alcoholic beverage (don’t give me more than one of these by the way!) and a glass of water.  Then he whipped out his pad and took my order. 

 When Gavin disappeared into the kitchen, I sat and thought about my predicament.  Here I was, in an upscale, high class, socially elite restaurant, wearing less than I do when I go to bed.  I had been seated in the middle (THE FUCKING MIDDLE !) of the place, where I could be on display, rather than tucked into a back corner.  My pussy was stuffed with vibroballs, rolling and rattling along at maximum power, sending ripples of sexual bliss through my body.  This was enhanced of course by the powerful vibrations of the Butterfly stimulator, which was directly pressed to my clit.  My now half-buttoned shirt barely kept my breasts concealed, much less contained and the high heels only added additional incentive for every man and woman there to keep their eyes on me, rather than their dining partners or food.

 I came again while waiting for my food.

 I didn’t do such a good job keeping quiet the second time and while I admit it wasn’t a full blown screaming orgasm, I let out some serious moans and groans along with a high pitched whine as I struggled to contain my involuntary enthusiasm.  There were also plenty of visual clues for my fellow diners. I fell forward, fingers clutching the edge of the table.  My eyes were closed and I shook like a tree in a strong gale.  My hips jerked wildly, clearly exposed to the sides thanks to the seating arrangement.  My knees opened, concealed under the table. One high heel encased foot shot out, leg outstretched as the orgasm ripped through me.

 When I was done, I noticed the sound level had once again dropped.  Um… yeah.  I took another deep breath, trying to adjust to the new levels of sensitivity between my legs.  YOU try vibrating yourself into multiple orgasms on one single, high nerve density spot!  Most women couldn’t handle the Butterfly staying on like that.  It begins to hurt a bit.  But I’m not like most women.  I’m a NHPS, a nympho humiliation pain slut, and that little bit of hurt… well that was like the icing on a cake. 

 Of course with orgasm two I had a tough choice to make.  Do I release the button above my belly, or the one just below my breasts?  I thought about this for a moment, and then realized that I wasn’t leaving there with my shirt buttoned anyway.  So I undid the button at my belly.  At least my breasts weren’t on display yet.  Of course the shirt fell away a bit and now my panties, not to mention the black straps of the butterfly clitoral stimulator, were clearly in view from the sides.  A few of the diners were dutifully checking out my underwear arrangement.  Probably trying to figure out what the black straps were for too.

 “My my… don’t you look delectable,” a familiar voice purred in my ear.  I looked up to see Kari standing there in stunning red, tall and blond, her chiseled beauty a marked contrast to my “girl next door” cuteness.  I’m freckled.  Kari’s skin is one unblemished white surface.  I wear little makeup and it looks contrived.  Kari wears little make up and she looks natural.  I am short and awkward.  Kari is tall and graceful.  I was wearing practically nothing.  Kari was in a designer business suit that cost more than every article of clothing I owned put together.

 She sat down across from me as I struggled to keep my composure.

 “You set me up!” I whispered, my anger giving me an edge at dealing with the renewed sense of orgasmic urgency coming from between my legs.  Kari gave me a mischievous grin.

 “You asked me to help you with this assignment, did you not?  Then stop complaining about how I’ve gone about it.  Had you performed this little stunt at McDonalds or even Hungry’s you would have been asked to leave before your first orgasm.”  Kari’s eyes were a bit cold, but then she smiled.  “Besides, this was an opportunity for us to have lunch together, right?”

 I sat back in my chair and folded my arms over my barely covered breasts.  “You didn’t have to put me right in the middle of the damn dining room.”

 Kari leaned forward.  “And do you think your Master Barrett, much less your adoring fans would have been pleased if you had been stuck in some quiet corner, much less a private room?  You are a nympho HUMILIATION pain slut, Breanne,” Kari replied.

I let that pass. She was right.  Besides, Gavin came out at that moment.

 “Hello, Kari,” he said with great deference.  It took me a moment to realize that it wasn’t just because Kari was an important customer.  I know the look and feel.  At one point, obviously a few years before, Gavin had been one of Kari’s boy toys!  I gave him another hard look and wondered how long he had lasted.

 “Your usual, Kari?” he asked deferentially.  She shook her head, reaching out to squeeze his arm.  Then she leaned down and picked up her purse, putting it on the table.

 “Not today, Gavin.  I’d like a Long Island Ice Tea today, and bring me the grilled chicken salad as well, she said as she fished something silver out of her four hundred dollar designer handbag.  She handed it to Gavin, but I didn’t get a good look at it.  “Please put this in the freezer.  It’s dessert for Breanne, here.”

 He nodded obediently, taking the item  “Yes Kari.” 

Kari smiled.  “There’s a good boy.  Go along now.”

 Sometimes I hate her.  Sometimes I envy her.  I always love her.

 How the hell did she know I ordered the grilled chicken salad? It hadn’t even come out yet!

I took a sip of my caramel and liquor milk shake and finally relaxed a bit.  I was with Kari.  All was right in the world.

“Now, while you’re still able to talk, let’s discuss what this little venture is going to cost you.”

 I winced.  Every time I asked Kari to help with an assignment, there was a cost.  Oh… not in money.  In coin far more tangible, far more personal, and so far, if experience was a decent indicator of future debts to be paid, far more sexual.  If you don’t believe me, go to the archive and read up about Kari’s Super Bowl Party. Trust me.  Kari is expensive.

 “I’m having another party, this time for Independence Day, and I would like you to assist at that party.”

 The butterfly suddenly seemed to be just a tad bit more intense and I felt my loins tighten around the vibroballs inside me. 

 “Will I be fucked?” I asked rather matter-of-factly.

 Kari smiled.  “Absolutely.  Frequently even.”

 “Will I be tied up?” 

 “Very much so,” she replied.

 “Whipped?” I asked, pressing my hands down on the table, trying to resist the sudden surge of pressure building over my clitoris.

 Kari leaned forward, eyes flashing in delight.  “As much as possible, and in tender spots.”

 The tsunami inside me built and I could feel the rise.  “Clamped?” I asked in a whisper.

“Tightly, at multiple points.”

 “Waxed?” my voice was now high pitched.  Kari looked thoughtful for a moment.

 “Maybe, but it’s more likely I’ll just tie sparklers to your nipples and watch you squirm.”

 The vision of me bound tightly, spread eagled, upright, and with lit sparklers pressed to my breasts was too much for my body to handle at the same time I was being sexually stimulated.  This time I let loose, letting out a loud cry of ecstasy as the orgasm exploded through me, destroying every shred of decency and humility I had left.  I was a wreckage in the chair, the wooden seat and my panties soaked with my juices.  Kari wasn’t embarrassed in the least, accepting my humiliating orgasm and the attention it drew as not just her due, but as envy of her power.  I would give money to have the sort of self-confidence and supreme hubris that Kari has.

 Of course, on the flip side, people who don’t rub her right call her “bitch”. Either you love Kari or you hate her.

 I started the downward spiral as my brain slowly began exerting control over my muscles again.  Unfortunately I was also experiencing one of the worst types of paradoxes for nympho humiliation pain sluts.  That paradox involved my clit, which was well past the point of over-stimulation and well into the realm of “oh God, please STOP!”  The stop part comes from the fact that at that point, a vibrator pressed to your clit hurts.  Now it doesn’t hurt like a broken arm, or a splinter.  It hurts in a very specific way.  It’s tough to describe… sorta like your nerves being on fire.  If you’ve never felt your nerves over stimulated try it sometime and see how you like it.  But the paradox part comes if you ALSO happen to be a pain slut, and pain, especially in sexual places (like your clit) makes you want to cum.  The pain serves as a shield to help you get through the constant sexual excitement, but conversely it also adds fuel to the fire, making that sexual excitement stronger, eventually allowing it to overwhelm the pain shield in the first place. 

 So there I was, my body in this hyper state of awareness, wanting to cum, loving and hating the hurt of the stimulation, knowing that another orgasm was going to come whether I wanted it or not.  I lifted my hands toward the third button.

 “No.  Not that one.  The top one,” Kari interrupted.  She hadn’t said a word during my entire vocal performance, watching and waiting as the orgasm triggered all of my body’s natural responses.  Even as my hips twitched and jerked in response to the pain/stimulation at my clit, Kari was directing me.

 I bit my lip and moved my fingers a bit higher.  Carefully I undid the button at my breasts, taking care not to open the shirt any more than absolutely necessary.  Now I was pretty much naked from the toes on up, except of course for the pink panties and butterfly stimulator positioned over my clit.  The men’s shirt I was wearing was now held closed by a single button, approximately mid-way down my body.  A simple brush of the hand would expose perfectly both of my breasts.

 Gavin appeared at that moment with our meals and did his absolute best not to make it TOO obvious that he was looking down my shirt.  To be honest, I didn’t mind all that much.  I’ve been seen and fucked by enough of Kari’s boyfriends over the years that one more didn’t bother me.  I remember the first BOY I had sex with.  His name was Jason and he worked with Kari at the fast food place that was her first job.  They dated ONCE together and then Jason was introduced to the joy that is dating a dominatrix and her submissive.  I was a gift, a living sex toy, and I remember Jason fucking me while Kari straddled my face and the two of them kissed.  Then we did the Chinese Fire Drill and it was Kari getting drilled while Jason pinched and twisted my nipples, following Kari’s orders.

 Despite the fact that my stomach was finally getting a word in edgewise in the chorus of nether region song, I was still finding it hard to sit still.  Have you ever heard the term “ants in your pants?”  Well I’m pretty sure had I been WEARING any pants, everyone would have been thinking it.  As it was, my ass was wiggling around on the chair seat in a rather vain and involuntary mixed goal of both stopping the pain in my clit and making me cum again.  It was a combination of reflex withdrawal and urgent thrusting.  Worse, my pussy was doing something similar, tightening and relaxing in a strange unconscious pulsing that only seemed to make the vibroballs buzzing inside me larger and more intrusive.

 I tried to put that all aside but I know now that while my attire, slow exposure, and rather obvious orgasms, had been the reason for all the stares, my twitching ass and bouncing were now MUCH more entertaining as everyone in the restaurant knew I was having problems down below.  Even better was the fact that no one wanted it to stop.  I picked up my fork and began to eat the grilled chicken, mentally putting my situation, nudity, and the fact my loins had a mind of their own, aside. 

 Kari talked about inconsequentials, neither mentioning the July 4th Party again nor discussing the obviously increasing problems I was currently experiencing.  I let her talk.  Not because I had nothing to add, but because it was taking every ounce of my attention just to fucking eat and not put my hands down to my crotch.  Of course, even HAD I put my hands down there, I’m not sure what I would have done.  There were two options.  Do I press hard on the Butterfly Clit Stimulator and cum?  Or do I pull it off and end the pain?

 That’s the sort of question that’s tough to answer when you are slipping down the hill toward the Cliffs of Orgasm. 

 Kari finished first of course, and Gavin was there in seconds to take her plate.  As he picked it up, she looked at him and smiled.  “Gavin, if you would be a dear, please bring that little item I gave you, the one I asked you to put in the freezer.”  She looked at me with a dark lustful gaze.  “I think Breanne might be ready for her dessert.”

 Gavin nodded.  “Certainly, Kari. I put it in the blast chiller in the kitchen so it would get colder quicker.”

 “Oh?  How thoughtful! Go get it dear.”

 I put another forkful of spinach and chicken in my mouth, trying hard not to think about dessert.  I somehow doubted it would be a bowl of ice cream.

 I continued to eat, which was hard enough without me wondering what torment was coming next.  Wasn’t it enough that I was only half dressed, barely covered, and vibrated to the point of going banana fucking nuts crazy?  Wasn’t it enough that I was literally on display, a sex pet of a powerful successful woman, a spectacle of sexual control, a toy?  I could HEAR the comments about me!  Vulgar, disgusting, slut, whore, lewd, were only some of the words I heard, and if it hadn’t been for the looks, the hungry, desperately jealous looks, I would have ran from the restaurant.

 I pushed my plate away. I wasn’t going to be able to eat any more.  Not like this.  I put my fork down and then Gavin put a small whiskey glass down in front of me.  It wasn’t filled with fluid.  It was the metal object Kari had given him earlier when she first ordered.  But now, up close, I recognized it.  My heart gave a sudden lurch and the sexual urgency between my legs ramped up.  This wasn’t going to take long. 

 “Gavin?  Would you mind putting it on Breanne?  Her hands aren’t exactly steady right now,” Kari pointed out.

 Gavin looked at me, and then at Kari.  He reached into the cup and picked up the chain, but then he dropped it with a hiss.  He picked up the cup even as he yanked a clean white towel out of his apron and dumped the contents of the glass into his protected hand. 

 “Sorry Kari. It’s very cold,” he apologized to my former mistress and lover.  Kari smiled.

“Not at all.  Hold on just a moment, Gavin.”  She looked at me pointedly.  “Breanne, let’s make sure that Gavin can do this properly.”  She reached across the table and pushed my glass of ice water closer.  “Take that and make sure your nipples are nice and hard and wet, please.”

 I looked at her.  Seriously?  Hard and wet?  Trembling, I picked up the glass.  Condensation had built up on the outside of the cold glass and immediately pooled under my finger tips to slide dripping down to the table.  With my left hand, I pulled my shirt open, exposing my left breast to Kari, Gavin, and about half the restaurant.  The touch of the cold wet glass was almost unbearable but I did my best to soak my nipple.  It went immediately hard of course, a cold wet bump that seemed to stick out half an inch.  I moved my hands to the other side, exposing my right breasts and repeated the process.  So now TRULY exposed, with both breasts completely visible, nipples hard and wet, stuffed and tortured with vibrators, wearing nothing but a mostly open men’s shirt, pink panties, and stripper shoes, I turned my face to Gavin who had maneuvered the clover clamps and chain around in his towel.  He bent toward me, pinching the clamps open, his fingers protected from the intense cold of the bare metal.  I took a deep breath and held it, already clenching my teeth, preparing myself.  The metal came closer, then closer and I closed my eyes…

 I love Christmas, don’t you?  It’s my favorite time of the year.  There are lights and presents and music and just a general feeling of awesomeness, right?  Every year my Mom gets out a bunch of DVD’s and video cassette tapes and we have this movie marathon.  We get to watch White Christmas and Holiday Inn.  There’s It’s A Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart.  And then of course there is that often watched tale that I felt taught me some of life’s lessons, or should I say mistakes, so that I wouldn’t have to make them myself.

 You know the story.  There is this silly blond kid with glasses who wants a BB gun for Christmas.  “You’ll shoot your eye out kid!” was what he was told, and sure enough, he managed to do something stupid.  But that isn’t the lesson I was talking about.  My dad taught me guns and I’ve NEVER shot my eye out or anything like that.  Of course, the first gun my dad taught me to use was a Ruger 10/22 and I still have it.  No… the lesson I’m referring to, that came from “The Christmas Story,” involved cold, a frozen piece of metal, and a rather wet body part.  In the story, the dumb kid was dared to stick his tongue to a frozen sign post.  Yeah.  Dumb, right?  My dad told me to “learn from the mistakes of others since you’ll never live long enough to make them all yourself.”  Good advice.

 I’m not sure what hurt worse at that moment, the tight pinch or the searing cold.  Okay, never mind. I do know. It was the fucking cold.  It went through me like a spike, piercing both nipples like hot wires and then driving all the way through my body and out my back.  Every internal organ either shuddered or tightened.  My heart skipped a beat or three.  Even as I let out a muted squeal that was the equivalent of “holy shit, oh my fucking god!” I clapped my hands to my breasts in agony.  This was not smart.  Clover clamps are rather large and all this did was sear MORE of my areola not to mention the palms of both hands.  The cold was awful. It was worse than awful.  This wasn’t applying ice to my nipples.  This was like applying DRY ICE to my nipples.  The clamps literally FROZE the water that I had just applied to both nubs and I was pretty sure that a well placed flick of a finger would shatter the tips of my breasts.

 As my brain began computing all of this in the one or two seconds after the application of clamps, I realized something else that was almost lost in the sensation.  I was cumming.  Seriously cumming.  The moment the searing pain in my nipples exploded through me it had started the chain reaction.  My pussy was grinding and clenching, my hips were thrusting rapidly forward, virtual fucking, and my ass was tight and hard.  My legs had spread wide apart even as I tilted backward in my chair.  Unwilling to touch the clamps, I cupped both breasts as I threw my head back and practically went into orgasmic convulsion right at the table.  Now my clamped breasts were pretty much visible to everyone except the poor schmucks directly behind me.

 A minute later I was still cumming.  I think.  I wasn’t exactly timing myself.  Maybe it was half a minute.  All I know was that it didn’t stop.  Yes, most girls are multi-orgasmic, and this was one of those times where I hit the peak, slid down a few feet, and then went right back up.  I think I did this four or five times.  I lost control of my jaw at some point and let loose several wild cries that would have shamed Sally on her date with Harry.  Gavin took a step backward, a little disconcerted at being right next to the center of attention, while Kari watched, her long fingered hands tucked under her chin.

 When I finally started to come down from my climax, all that registered was the pain.  Now, yes I’m a pain slut, but I’m not a pure one I guess. I NEED the sexual component to withstand it.  Otherwise I’m a wimp.  And frankly, I was all sexed out.  Technically speaking of course.  My fingers moved down to my clit, digging into my panties, and I turned off the butterfly for the first time in over an hour.  Having that off was enough, barely, for me to open my eyes and look over at Kari.

 “Feel good?” she asked.

 No I did not fucking feel good!  My tits were still burning with cold!  My pussy was still contracting around the damn vibroballs!  I was still on display as a living sex toy!  I’d complain about my nipples crushed by the clamps, but to be honest they were so cold I couldn’t really feel it.

 “Yes, Kari.  Thank you for helping me cum,” I said softly, but with a bit of tremble in my voice.

 “Don’t forget to unbutton your shirt, dear one.”

 I nodded, fingers fumbling for the last white button.  It popped open and the shirt fell away, leaving my entire front exposed.

 Kari turned to Gavin.  “Gavin, would you please take Breanne into the private room and fuck her brains out.  Except I don’t want you to cum inside her, or even in a condom.  I want you to put all of your cum into her panties.  And when you bring her back to me, those panties need to be in her mouth.  Understood?”  Kari’s tone brook no argument. To be honest, I wasn’t in any condition to object either.  I was barely cognizant of what was going on frankly.

 Gavin stepped over to me and took my hand.  Thank God he didn’t grab the chain.  I stood, wobbling on my high heels, but he wrapped one arm around me and together we walked through the dining area toward a back room.  My eyes were glazed, but I could tell every eye was on me.  I didn’t care.  Not at that point.  The vibroballs were still buzzing and my nipples felt like pin cushions as they began to defrost.  The fact that my shirt was totally open down the front made little difference.

 The private back room was rather large, with separate tables.  However none of them had table covers, much less the usual flower arrangements or stuff on them.  I guess they didn’t set up the back room until they needed it.  Gavin helped me over to one corner where a row of chairs had been placed against the wall.  He sat me down, then gently reached to my breasts, and unclamped me.

 I hissed of course, but obviously the clamps had warmed up enough from contact with my body that Gavin could handle it.  I had red marks though over each nipple and down my breast, and even a few across my chest where the chain had touched me.  He put them aside as I cupped my breasts, trying to both warm them and massage them.  Talk about pins and needles!  While I did that, he began tugging my panties down.  I lifted my ass off the seat for a moment to give him access and then he set them aside.  They were literally saturated. I could tell.  I had four orgasms in them and they were soaked with enough juice to fill a glass.

 Next he took off the quiet butterfly.  I was glad to have it off frankly, even though it wasn’t purring any more.  Then he pulled me up to my feet, his fingers on my shoulders, and he pushed off my dad’s shirt.  It fell to the floor as I melted into his embrace.  He was warm and handsome and perfect and I kissed him and then his fingers were stroking me, cupping my bottom, coming up my spine, sending shivers of pleasure through me.  His hands found my breasts, squeezing them, but staying away from the nipples at first.  I could feel is need, his urgency and I slid down his body, unbuckling his pants.  His apron was in the way and he had to turn around so I could untie him.  Then he spun again and I quickly tore open his fly, unzipping and pulling and tugging and exposing until a thick full cock popped out and smacked me in the face. 

 I didn’t just give him a blowjob. I devoured him. I sucked, slurped, swallowed, licked, gummed, and even lightly bit his cock with an energy and hunger I rarely use on a guy.  He was one of Kari’s boy toys and even if he only lasted a week, I knew he would have been able to withstand what I was doing to him.  He was hard as a rock anyway and I had him moaning in under a minute.

 The remote to the vibroballs had fallen to the floor and while I was sucking, I traced the wires from my pussy back to the controller.  Moments later the rumble inside me stilled and I began tugging out the balls.   I knew that Gavin would want something more tangible, more soft and wet.  The two bullets tumbled to the floor and I groaned as they came out.  Then I pulled away from Gavin’s wet cock and turned around, going to all fours and wiggling my ass for him.  Gavin didn’t wait. He kicked off his pants and boxers, knelt down behind me, and rammed him self deep.

 I’m going to just say it.  There is no substitute for cock.  Not really.  Oh sure, there are TONS of toys that make a girl cum, and some that even stimulate in ways not cock can ever hope to.  But when it comes down to it, I love having cock inside me.  Real, blood pumping, rigid cock.  It felt incredible.  Sure, there was absolutely no way I was going to cum, at least not before Gavin, but it still felt wonderful being filled like that.  Better yet was the way I manipulated the fucking.  By doing it doggie style, I had managed to make sure that NOTHING touched my clit. 

 A moment later Gavin gasped and then yanked himself out of my pussy.  He grabbed my soaked panties from the chair near us and held it over the tip of his cock as white goo spurted into the pink cotton.  I let out a little whimper. That cock had felt so good!  Gavin set my panties aside and then took a deep breath.

 “That was incredible, Breanne” he whispered into my ear.  I nodded and straightened up, still on my knees. 

 “Thanks,” I replied.  “I wish your cock was still in me.”

 He laughed. “Me too.  You aren’t anything like Kari.”

 Now it was my turn to laugh. “How long did you last?”

 Gavin grimaced.  “Two weeks.  She’s just too…” he trailed off.

 “Intense?” I asked.

He nodded.  “Did you know she has a cock vise?  She’d get me hard, then crush my cock for doing things like leaving plates on the counter.”

 I chuckled and stood up.  “You should have seen what she did to me for that! And I lived with her for two years in college.”

 He flinched. “Dear God!  Two YEARS?”

 I laughed and found my shirt.  I pulled it over my shoulders, but made sure not to button it.  “Yeah, but it was fun.”  I turned around and grabbed the vibroballs, butterfly, and clamps.  “Do you think I could have a take home box for this stuff?” I asked.

 Gavin’s eyes widened and then he laughed, loudly.  “Sure!”  He moved over to a small closet and rummaged around for a moment, producing a Styrofoam container. I dumped my toys (and Kari’s clamps) into the container.  I turned and faced the door.  I wasn’t sure I was ready to walk out there, not like this. I was totally nude under the shirt, from head to toe, and with every button loose the shirt tails flared open.  This wasn’t cover, it was enhancement and I felt my stomach tighten in a knot.  They would be staring again, except this time it would be even worse.  My swollen red pussy would be completely on display.

 Gavin stepped up next to me, studying my face.  “Are you okay?” he asked.

 I licked my lips.  “Just a little terrified of stepping out there like this.” I motioned down at my naked self.

 “Maybe you should button up the shirt?”

 I shook my head. “Not allowed to.”

 Gavin looked thoughtful for a moment.  “You need something to distract you.”

 “What?” I said, just a little confused.

 “You need something to take your mind off the people, being exposed.”  He lifted his hand and took my take-home box away from me.  I let him, wondering what he was going to do.  Then he popped it open and pulled out the clover clamps.

 I held still as he gently, ever so gently, reapplied the still slightly chilly pinchers to my nipples.  They didn’t hurt so much as ache and I moaned as they tightened down on the tips of my breasts.  Then he pulled out the vibroballs.  He knelt between my legs and I helped by spreading my feet wide.  Slowly, gently, he worked them in. I moaned except for when he touched my clit by accident.  Then I hissed and flinched.  He took the remote and looked at it, and then I felt the vibroballs hum to life, but on the lowest setting available.  He looked around for a moment, trying to figure out what to do with remote, but then he hung it on the nipple clamp chain..  I cupped my breasts again and groaned.

 When he pulled the butterfly out of the container, I stopped him.  “No.  Not that one. I can’t.  It will hurt too much.”

 Gavin nodded, dropped it back in to the container and closed the lid.  He handed me my take home box and looked at me.

 “Feeling distracted now?” 

 I nodded. “Very.”  The quick fuck I had gotten had turned my libido back to simmer and the low setting of the vibroballs was like slowly heated pot of water.

 He laughed.  “Oh! I almost forgot!”  He turned and hurried back over to the line of chairs against the far wall.  We both had forgotten, but he remembered.  He scooped up my panties, holding them between forefinger and thumb.  Would you believe they actually dripped on the carpet?

 “Sorry about this,” he said, apologizing.  I swallowed, took a deep breath, and opened my mouth.

 Cum and salt and musk and this tanginess assaulted my taste buds and I almost gagged.  Gavin snagged the remote to the vibroballs, which was still hanging down at my belly, the wire looped over the chain between my breasts before running down to my pussy.  He spun the dial, bringing me up to medium. I felt a pull, a tug, which first translated into my nipples, and then into my sex.  I stumbled forward as he drew on the wire and I was led, clamped, stuffed, buzzed, and grossly gagged, back into the dining room.

 The silence that fell was amazing.  They all stared at me.  Kari gave me and Gavin a look of surprise, but it quickly changed to one of amusement and pleasure.  She stood up, dropping a hundred dollar bill onto the table.  I have the feeling that was just Gavin’s tip.  We approached, me a sex object and nothing more, Gavin, her former boy toy, her current minion, her trusted assistant.  Kari bent and kissed him on the cheek.

 “Thank you, Gavin.  I appreciate it.  I’m sure Breanne did too.”

 He nodded and handed her the remote. She thumbed it up to maximum power and my hips began rocking.  I moaned loudly, but the panties kept me quiet enough. 

 Wow.  It just occurred to me that the preceding sentence was really weird.  Could you imagine taking that out of context?  “I moaned loudly, but the panties kept me quiet enough.”

 Try explaining THAT to people!

 “Tell everyone goodbye, Breanne” Kari directed me.  Eyes wide, I turned, summoning the courage to finally look them all back.  Every face was directed at me… some with disdain, most with lust and want. 

 I said it, “goodbye everyone,” but it came out so muffled and so garbled that it was meaningless mutter. I could have said, “come and get it! Free pussy to fuck and abuse!” and no one would have understood it either.  Then Kari tugged on the remote wire and I followed her out, obedient and docile.  The hot Texas sun actually felt good on me as we went outside. I didn’t realize how cold I had been.  I turned my face up and felt the sunshine, the warm air… it was wonderful. 

 Kari led me to her car, opening up the door and helping me in.  “We’re going to go back to my place for a few hours.”  I looked at her, unable to voice my concerns.  What about my truck?

 Kari grinned.  “Then you, me, and Robert will come back here for dinner.”

 My heart thumped painfully and a zillion thoughts rushed through my head.  Kari walked around to the other side of the car and got in.  She turned and looked at me with a mischievous smile.

 “You can be dessert again.  I’ll even let you button up your shirt.  At least until you orgasm.  This time though, you’ll start off wearing the clamps, as well as the vibroballs and butterfly.  Hmmm… maybe we’ll stuff your ass too,” she mused.

 My response was lost in the salty musty tang of my panties, soaked with the cum of two people.  I knew I wouldn’t be wearing them again today.  As for dinner?  Well… let’s just say that lunch was just an appetizer….

 But dinner is another story, for another time.  Bon Appétit!

 

The End

 

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