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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

Choose Your Own Destiny - The Club

 

16b – On the Vault

Breanne stumbles slightly as the two of you walk together, approaching the padded leather vaulting horse.  You catch her, steadying her, even as your eyes take in the finely wrought details of the padded construction before you.  It is just under waist high, thickly padded with polished leather.  It is dark, with what appears to be the sexual juices of thousands of girls worked into the dark center and down the sides.  The vaguely triangular shape resembles that of the wooden horse, but it is not as tall, and the top is curved and heavily padded.  Could you mount her astride it?  Certainly, as the darkening along the top demonstrates many have.  Heavy metal rings on each of the four legs however spur your creativity.  Instead you push Breanne against the side, bending her over at the waist so that her long auburn hair touches the floor like a curtain, waiting for the show to begin. 

You start off with her ankles, kicking them apart.  The Vault is long enough, easily six feet, so much that you could probably mount two girls across it.  You pause for a second wondering if you should get another girl, but then you glance back at Breanne’s exquisite rear and realize that you have no need for a second receptacle.  You reach out, fingers tracing previous damage done to Breanne’s buttocks, eliciting a soft whimper from your captive.  Hands slide down her legs until you find the small metal hook that connects her ankle cuff to the metal ring.  In moments her legs are spread rather wide, perfect for a host of abuses.  Walking around to the other side of the vault, you notice that her large breasts swing free.  She doesn’t resist as you attach her wrists to the legs of the vault either, though you are forced to use extender chains.  She is a bit petite.

Like the other stations, a small table sits to the side and it is crammed with the most unimaginable toys and tools.  Every type of vibrating monstrosity sits there waiting, each wrapped in cellophane.  There are condoms, lubricants, gels, even lotions that cause tingling and heating.  There are nipple clamps of all kinds, but what really attracts you is the large wooden paddle.  You heft it, enjoying its weight and swing it a few times through the air.  It is perfect.  But you know that preparation is the key.  You grab a set of clamps.  These are not connected with a chain, but come with a set of weights instead. 

Breanne whimpers as you squat down near her face, your fingers coming up to cruel grasp her nipple, tugging it downward.  When the clamp bites hold of her tit she lets out a lust filled cry, her body involuntarily trying to squirm away.  It doesn’t matter, your grip is tight and in seconds the other breasts sports a matching piece of hardware.  As soon as she seems to adjust to the metal mouths chewing on her nipples, you add a cast iron weight to each clamp, making the painful torment that much more intolerable.   Her breasts now stretch and you know that as her body absorbs the blows of the paddle, the weights will rock with the impact and provide the exact sort of distress you intend.

Perhaps Breanne knows this, or more likely, experienced it before, because she whimpers as you return to the table and pick up your paddle.  It is easily seven inches wide before tapering down to an easy handle.  Several small holes have been drilled in its polished surface, changing it so that it stings that much more.  It is polished, a dark mahogany, which reflects the flickering yellow light that permeates this constructed play dungeon.

Your first stroke would have sent a baseball into the outfield and instantly a tremendous swath of her bottom turns scarlet.  Her scream is music to your ears and her whole body rocks forward against the vault and then recoils back, only to meet your next swing.  The second blow comes a bit lower, catching the backs of her thighs and the curve of her seat.  She cries out through gritted teeth and even the attendant comes over to watch as you begin the paddling.

After the fifth stroke you see dark patchy bruises forming on her rear and realize that you need to lighten up just a bit.  Her entire bum is crimson, the skin heated to near combustibility and you can feel the flames under her skin as you lightly touch her.  Your hands go back to the table and you pull out a rather large vibrating egg.  It is made of purple plastic and a quick adjustment sets it vibrating violently as you press the tapered end in between Breanne’s labia.  She adjusts quickly to this new penetration and in moments it disappears into her depths.  You watch as her bottom clenches, tightening just as her pussy encloses around the vibrating egg.

The next item you take from the table can only be described as a chopstick.  There is a whole container full of them, but one suits your needs completely.  You lean over her cooked buttocks, holding the smooth rod in your fingers.  Carefully, and somewhat gently, you begin to poke and prod her clitoris, working the rounded and smooth end of the thin stick over and around the sensitive nub.  The intensity of your actions are reflected in both Breanne’s squeals of pleasure, but also the non-stop movement of her trembling legs as she pulls and pushes against her bonds.  Her thighs pull tight, opening her even more to your ministrations and you use both hands, putting torque on the chopstick and holding it a good four to five inches away from her clit.

You release, letting the end of the rod smack into her clit sharply.  It’s as if you had just branded her.  She lets out an agonizing cry as her body shakes from the impact.  That had to hurt.  But to your surprise, a small squirt of juice comes shooting out of her pussy, barely missing you. 

“Oh GOD YES!” she screams.  “Please! AGAIN!”

A little startled, but certainly agreeable, you flick the stick against her clit a second time, and then a third and fourth.  Each sharp hard little blow seems to send her over the edge and she erupts a second time.  It’s almost shocking.  Even as she is reeling toward a third orgasm, you push the end of the thin cane into her pussy, stirring her sex until the stick bumps into the vibrating egg.  You pull out the chopstick and once again put pressure on it, holding it back with the other hand.  This time you target her bottom, not the cheeks, but the exact center, the small exposed brown button.  One, two, three, four, five strokes, smacking against her turns her immediately back into a blubbering pain ridden mess, begging for release. 

Instead, you move around to her front, sit against the vault, and begin poking and prodding her breasts, causing the weights to swing wildly even as the vibrating egg continues to work its magic deep within her well.  After a while, you begin targeting directed strokes against her breasts, leaving thin red welts along the undersides, tops, and sides, each blow sending the clamp attached weights swaying. 

You notice small droplets of moisture on the floor beneath her face and her cheek is wet.  Her screams of pain have gone to cries of need, and then to whimpers of hurt and desperation.  She begs for release between enduring your strokes and finally you decide she is right.  Release is on the menu.

Yours of course. Not hers.  You stand up, moving around to the rear of the vault and to Breanne’s well lubricated and abused holes.  Your trousers are quickly shed and you push your boxers down to expose your cock.  Now you only have one more decision to make.  Which hole?

Breanne’s pussy is exquisite and that’s where I want to put my junk. I’ll just pull the vibrating egg out and we’ll be set. (18a)

Breanne’s ass looks delectable, and I can just imagine how awesome it will feel around my shaft, tightening.  Not to mention the fact that each thrust will hurt that much more.  Plus I can keep the vibrating egg in! (18b)