Tales 12

Tales 11

Tales Vol.9

Deep Waters

Tales NHSP 8

Challenge of Love

Tales Vol. 1

Coming of Age

In The Dark II

Breanne's Three - Chicago BDSM

The Society of the Golden Rose

The Silver Locke

Michael Alexander Stories

Breaking My Record - By Breanne Erickson

Part 8


I think I dozed off in that soft embrace and it wasn’t until the smell of baked pizza and Robert’s voice announcing dinner filled my ears, that I was able to rouse myself.  Sara gave me a quick hug and I found myself being led back to the dining room.  This time it was Sara who moved me around the table and I stopped in disbelief as it became readily apparent that Sara had every intention of putting me back on that damn stool.

“What’s the problem, honey?”  Sara asked as I halted.

“Please, Mistress.  I really don’t want to sit there again” I said softly.  Sara gave me a sympathetic look.

“I understand, Bre.  I really do.  But that’s where you have to sit” Sara said.  “Kari wants you on that stool.”

I cringed at her words.  I really really didn’t want to sit back down on the stool.  Sara took my arm and pushed me forward.  I didn’t resist, but I didn’t cooperate either, and she literally had to move my legs individually in order to get me to straddle the damn thing.  She pushed me down, hands on my shoulders, until I let out a soft ache filled cry as the two phallic probes penetrated me for the third time that day.  Sara lifted my ankles and made me kneel on the padded ledges as she clipped my ankle cuffs to the stool.  Then the waist strap went across my thighs and I was once more locked into place, held for punishment and pleasure, torment and ecstasy. 

Robert and Kari brought in the pizza and my mouth watered.  It was after seven o’clock and I was hungry.  One pizza was covered in red and green bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, black olives and artichoke hearts, while the other was a mix of pepperoni and Italian sausage.  Robert helped himself to the Italian sausage while I leaned forward, breasts grazing the table, as I snagged a slice of pepperoni.  It was delicious.  I licked my lips and as I was reaching for my second piece, Kari pressed a button on the control panel, making me stiffen in alarm.

But the only thing that happened was the first joint of the vaginal phallus began twirling inside me. It felt…good.  Not painful, not intense, just a slow stir that sent warm ripples of pleasant sensation through my loins.  With a sigh I pulled my second slice of pizza toward me and began to eat. 

Kari slices her pizza into very thin pieces.  She likes it that way.  She also likes crunchy cracker type crusts and uses those premade crusts when she makes homemade pizza.  We did that a lot in college.  It’s cheaper, quicker, and you don’t have to pay stupid amounts for toppings.  It just makes sense.  But it also meant I was reaching for more slices on a regular basis, and every time I reached for another slice, Kari pressed another button or dial on the control.  My third slice of pizza caused the vaginal phalluses second socket to begin moving and I felt a surge of wetness that had my pussy tightening around the impaling robotic cock.  My fourth slice started the anal vibrator buzzing.  My fifth slice caused the vaginal phallus to start jerking spasmodically, literally fucking me in a completely random pattern.

It became very difficult to eat. 

I kept jerking on my stool, lifting up a few inches and then driving myself back down as the mechanical finger fucker from robotic hell practiced single digit sign language inside my pussy.  It made my hips roll forward, backward, to the sides, and even move in a weird sort of herky jerk squirm as my sex was stretched, poked, prodded, and stroked.  I handled it though, holding back as I snagged my sixth piece of pizza.

That’s when the vibrations started.  I knew the vaginal phallus vibrated too, but it was just more than I could handle.  The whole thing was still twisting around and could barely hold back then.  When it began buzzing, the vibrations moved through and I could feel it in the thin wall between my rear end and my pussy, and even at my clit.  I put the pizza down after one bite, my hand going down between my legs.  I rubbed at my clit and exploded frantically, creating quite a stir amongst the other dinner guests.  Seriously, imagine yourself eating dinner when suddenly one of the other guests starts gasping and moaning and then bouncing up and down, finally crying out in one long orgasmic wail that makes the soundtrack to When Harry Met Sally come out mild.

When I came back down to earth, Kari looked me in the eye, ignoring my heaving breasts and asked me if I was finished.

“Yes, Mistress. I came again.”  I told her.  Both phalluses were still going at full throttle and I could feel the first vestiges of vaginal over-stimulation.

Kari gave me a sly look.  “I meant dinner” she said.

I blinked.  To be honest I was still hungry.  I shook my head.  “No Mistress. I’m not done.” 

Kari nodded and went back to eating.

“Uh, Mistress?  Can you please turn off the dildos?” I asked politely, clamping down as I felt the shakes start up between my legs.

Kari glanced back at me.  “I thought you weren’t done” she said mildly.

“I’m not done with dinner…” my voice trailed off.  Oh.  I get it.  I hung my head and looked down at my plate.  A half eaten slice of pizza lay on the ceramic stoneware.

“Then finish your dinner.”  Kari’s voice was rather hard.

I picked up my slice and ate it, trying desperately to ignore the earthmoving tremors and shaking going on between my legs.  It was impossible, and I quickly felt myself ripening again, to sore to orgasm, but too stimulated not to start thrusting once again.  I finished my pizza and looked at Kari expectantly.

“Are you finished?”  She asked me.  I almost nodded, but then thought about it.  Should I have another slice?

“What happens if I’m not?” I asked.  It was a daring thing to do.  Kari doesn’t take kindly to slaves mouthing off. 

Kari held up the control and showed me a big red button near the bottom.  “Then I press this button and you deal with the consequences.”

I squirmed in my seat, my pussy aching, wanting, pulsing, pushing, pulling, needing.  I realized I didn’t care what she did to me next, as long as I came again.  With a hard gaze at my tormentor, I reached out and grabbed my seventh piece of pizza, bracing myself for whatever would send me over the edge into orgasmic bliss.  I watched, my breath catching in my throat as Kari pressed the big red button.

Everything stopped.  That’s right.  The vaginal phallus stopped buzzing, twisting, twirling, spinning, and stroking.  The anal plug stopped vibrating.  Everything went quiet.  There were no pulses, no shocks, no thrusts, and no nothing.  My eyes widened in alarm and my body reacted by violently lifting up and down, trying to work itself against the phallus.  I looked at Kari in horror.

“Eat your pizza” she said, her voice like iron.

Oh my god.

I need to state that I am not used to denial.  Kari rarely if ever tortured me with orgasm denial.  I guess she’s grown a bit as a mistress since I left her service.  My thighs trembled, my body screamed for release. My breathing became shallow and rapid and I could feel my heart race.  If I hadn’t kept my mouth closed I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had hyperventilated.  I reached down to my clit, clearly about to masturbate myself to satisfaction, but Sara, who had been seated next to me, reached out, grabbed my hands, and quickly locked the wrist cuffs together behind my back.  Then she tightened the waist strap, preventing me from even bouncing.

It took me a few moments to master myself, calming myself down, telling the raging animal of my libido to take a cold shower, to bury its head in the sand.  I couldn’t touch myself, and the strap across my thighs prevented any and all movement.  It was abominable.  I hated it.  It was torment.  It was painful.  It was…torture.  Pure and true torture.  I would have eagerly returned to Kari’s bed for another pussy whipping.  I would have let Robert’s alien dick covering penetrate me any where, even up my ass!  I would have willingly mounted the wooden horse, if only Kari would turn everything back on.

I sat like that for about fifteen minutes.  Fifteen minutes of hell.  Finally Sara released my hands and I was able to finish my last slice of pizza.

“Are you finished now?”  Kari asked me.  I nodded.

“Yes Mistress.” 

Kari grinned.  She turned toward Robert.  “I’m in the mood for dessert. Please untie Bre and take her to the dining room and mount her on the coffee table.”  I shivered.  Dessert?  Coffee Table?  What next?


Robert came over to me and unclipped my ankles from the stool and released the strap.  I groaned, clinging to him as I rose, having to twist slightly in order to allow the vaginal phallus to come out.  It was locked in a weird shape, like a corkscrew and I had trouble envisioning the thing moving inside me.  Robert held me, supporting me, as we went to the living room.

I sat down on the edge of the coffee table and let Robert do his thing.  He lowered me onto the surface gently and then lifted my arms above my head.  Shortly I was once again secured, my legs and body spread across the coffee table like some sort of obscene centerpiece.  This time Robert had spread my legs to the sides of the table, so that the edges bit into the backs of my knees as he ran a bit of cord between the D links on each of my ankle cuffs.  To make a long story short, I was tied quite securely.

Robert spent a few moments running his hands up and down my body, which I didn’t mind, though I wished he would push a finger, or even his whole hand up into me.  I was still terribly horny from the phallic stool and I wouldn’t have said no to just about anyone.  As Michael lightly ran his finger over my nipple, causing me to jump, Kari stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway.

“Robert, chocolate or vanilla?”  Kari asked.  I looked at my captor and he had a surprised expression on his face.  Evidently he doesn’t get dessert all that often. 

“Chocolate, Mistress.  Thank you.”  He bowed his head slightly and Kari disappeared back into the kitchen.

“You okay?” I asked him, a little concerned.

He shrugged. “Better than you I’m guessing.”  I snorted, a very unladylike sound.

“I’ve at least cum a few times today.”

He gave me a grin.  “You’ve had nineteen distinct orgasms so far.”

I cringed.  I had already beaten my record.   And in less time than I had agreed to stay at Kari’s.  I figured Kari was going to try to up the ante.  I returned Robert’s smile.  “I wish that I had been able to make you cum.”

He shrugged.  “Maybe Mistress will invite you back soon for a milking.” 

Poor guy!  That’s what he’s hoping for?  Geeze!  I grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

That’s when Kari came out.  She was holding a large serving spoon and nothing else.  Sitting in the dead center of the spoon was a large oval shaped glob of rich chocolate ice cream.  It wasn’t melting either, which meant it was very cold.  Robert looked up at her in surprise, but then there was a glimmer of understanding.  I lifted my head as Kari moved down to the end of the table.  It took me a bit longer than Robert.

“What are you doing?  Kari?  What?  Wait! Ohh God!  No…..oooohhhh” 

It was cold.  It was colder than cold.  It was icy.  It was colder than icy. It was like somewhat had shoved a snowball’s worth of liquid nitrogen into my pussy.  Melting chocolate coated my petals and began leaking down to the crack of my ass and then Robert was there, licking me, driving his tongue into my body to get at the chocolate.  Kari paused for just a moment, looking down at me, before returning to the kitchen.  There were some clattering china and then both Sara and Kari returned, each with small bowls of ice cream.  Kari also had one of those aerosol cans of whip cream.   They settled down on the couch to watch as Robert ate, or more accurately, licked the melting ice cream out of me.

I went numb after about thirty seconds, which was good, because my pussy was hurting.  The shock of the cold, combined with the heat of the earlier dinner entertainment certainly created enough of a disparity to immediately liquefy anything even remotely frozen.  Robert moved quickly and I put my head back down on the table, closing my eyes, trying to ignore his probing tongue.  It was impossible.  Worse, it was almost as bad as the phallic probes at dinner.  He didn’t concentrate on my clit, only occasionally grazing it, and my thighs kept trembling from the strain.

“Here Robert, how about some whip cream?”  Kari suddenly asked.  Before I could lift my head I felt a freezing cold stream of air strike my clit, almost immediately followed by a thick cold cream that coated my entire nub.  Robert’s tongue was dabbing at it almost immediately and I moaned, finally feeling the rising surge of my need.  I lifted my ass, pressing my sweet pussy up to his mouth, letting his tongue and lips roam at will, but always pushing, always presenting the parts I wanted nibbled first.

Another shot of whip cream had me screaming and Sara muffled me with a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.  It had come from her bowl and I exploded with ice cream in my mouth, ice cream in my pussy, and Robert’s hot mouth sucking my clit, stabbing it with his tongue.

Everyone finished their dessert and I endured the continued licking for another ten minutes.  Finally Kari collected Sara’s bowl and gave Robert a dangerous look on her way back to the kitchen.

“Get her cleaned up and back out here.  Full restraints.”



Read Part Nine

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