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

Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 6

Breanne Erickson

Foreword by La Crimson Femme
Chains of Bondage
Fuck Toy Friday
Zip Lined Fun
Sucking Cock
Subconscious Whispers
Friday’s Punishment
Blowjob Friday Gone Wrong
If the Shoe Fits Fuck It
Full Bore
Low, Medium, and High
A Perfect Recipe
Suction Cup
It Never Ends (Part One)
It Never Ends (Part Two)
Two Hours
Conditioned Response
Temperature Change
The Pillar
Cum Slut
Location Vibrator Location
On A Bike Ride
Shave and a Blowjob, Two Bits
Bondage Earthquakes
Squatting Tough
On The Knotted Rope


 Foreword by La Crimson Femme
BDSM Reviews and Commentary


There is a fine line between love and hate.  In this book, it is demonstrated quite well by Breanne Erickson how much she hates to be humiliated yet loves the feeling it generates within her.  Or perhaps it’s more apt to say, she craves and yearns for these mind blowing orgasms earned through her pain and humiliations.  Each time an assignment comes through, it ups the stakes and it’s interesting to watch Breanne try her best to comply with her instructions.  It’s more amusing to see her fail and suffer the painful punishments. 

Several years ago, I found Breanne through a lovely story on a BDSM story website.  I followed her bread crumbs left on the internet.  Fascinated, I ended up finding Michael Alexander and his website showcasing this devious minx.  Enthralled, I dutifully read her given assignments.  My role as a happenstance peeping Tom grew to an addicted voyeur.  With each diabolical tale unfolding, my arousal increases.  As a sadist, her suffering gives me immense pleasure.  As a masochist her trials generates chills and guilty longings.  Sadist or masochist, this latest nineteen course meal of a nympho humiliation pain slut will satiate your hunger.  Bon appétit.  
La Crimson Femme


When the whip landed my eyes were closed.  Pain shot through me, sparking out from the impact points across both breasts and shooting up my spine as I clenched my teeth, letting out a hiss.  I would have pulled away, covered myself, or maybe even stopped the next blow I knew was coming, but my arms were stretched outward to the wooden frame around me, my wrists bound with leather.  Of course I pulled hard anyway.  Pain has a way of motivating you beyond thought.  Reflex takes over and it takes a lot of mental stability to overcome the urges brought on by instinct.  I was lacking that mental stability at precisely that moment, but it wasn’t my fault either.

It was Kylie’s fault.

I opened my eyes and looked down past my scarlet welted breasts.  Kylie’s short brunette hair was just beneath my bosom and her head was moving gently as her tongue dabbed lightly at my clit, sending paroxysms of delight through me.  It didn’t help that she had a finger inside me either, swirling and thrusting upward.  I tried to move my leg outward, spreading myself wider, but the frame that kept my arms stretched outward and prevented me from covering myself was also holding my ankles at a full forty five degrees from my body.  Just as I couldn’t close my legs, there was no spreading them either.

The whip landed again, searing my nipples and there was an even sharper pain from my right breast.  I knew what caused that.  My right nipple is pierced with a gold hoop.  Dangling from that hoop is a bright gold padlock sporting a black enameled “golden” rose.  The pain melded with Kylie’s teasing movements and I shuddered as the sensation of both torture and pleasure became something more than the sum of its parts.  It’s hard to describe.  It may be even harder for you to understand.

I’m a bit out there when it comes to sex.  Deviant even.  To be honest, it’s something I’m ashamed of, and not something I list on my official resume.  Left to my own devices, I’m a quiet girl, who prefers to wear blue jeans, tee shirts, boots, and a cowboy hat.  I’d happily stay in my quiet corner except for one little thing.  I’m sexually voracious.  I like that word.  Voracious.  It sounds exotic.  And yes, I know it’s odd considering that I dress conservatively, act like a normal, everyday kind of girl, and work my parent’s farm.

But I have a secret life.  Oh wait.  Maybe I don’t.  After all, I write about it, don’t I?  Maybe the truth is that my real life, my life of feeding horses and goats and harvesting kale and soybeans and doing laundry and taking care of my family are the secret life.  Isn’t that kind of weird?

I’ve been like this a long time.  The dominating aspect of being like me is need.  It’s not just a mind set.  Sometimes I’ve wondered if there is something wrong with me, both physically and mentally.  Why am I always aroused?  Why am I constantly wet?  Why do I constantly crave cock?  Why does the act of being humiliated or hurt turn me on?  And why, when it does happen, are my orgasms so much stronger than when I’m furiously masturbating in my own solitary bed?

There’s a mantra I’ve been taught to say, mostly while bound and tormented.  A repetitive commentary on my own nature.  It’s a statement of intent, of purpose.  On a more philosophical note it might be called the “meaning of life,” at least for me.  Amnesty International would probably call it brainwashing and Freud would no doubt call it a psychosis.  But nevertheless, it’s engraved in my mind, written with indelible ink, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else calls it.

he whip landed again and I cried out, tears forming on my cheeks.  It hurt, but it felt good too, and I could feel the orgasm building inside me.  Kylie kept at my clit, sucking on it as well as flicking her tongue against my little nub.  It was driving me crazy.

And Kari, my mistress, my lover, my very best friend from the time we met in sixth grade, stepped close and grabbed the padlock hanging from my nipple, twisting it.

“What do you want, Breanne?” she asked softly.  Her fingers twisted. 

I groaned as the pain shot through me. I blinked against the harsh light of the spot light nearby.  I knew I was on display.  Others were watching.  And everyone wanted to hear it.

“I want to please you, Mistress!” I gasped. Kylie nipped my clit just for fun.

Kari nodded.  “And what is your purpose?” she asked, slamming her other hand into my ass.  I jerked forward with a gasp as the sharp sting was quickly replaced by a burning heat.  Neither overwhelmed the pain in my right nipple.

“To be hurt and abused and fucked, Mistress!” I said loudly, trying to get it all out in one breath.

“And why would you want that, Breanne?” she asked, her hands coming up to grab both breasts from behind me, her mouth at my ear.  “What are you?”

Kylie’s tongue drove into my slit even as Kari began pinching both nipples hard.  I had been standing on the edge of the “orgasmic cliff” for too long and the final degradation, the declaration of my person, my entity, my life’s purpose, combined with the exquisite pleasure and pain from these two women, one dominant, the other submissive, was too much for me to handle.  I exploded like a nuclear missile hitting its target, with heat and force and power.  Endorphins and adrenaline rushed through me as I lost coherency and the rumble of excitement made it impossible to think.  And when it’s impossible to think, whatever is forefront in your mind is what escapes your mouth.  So while I was cumming, shaking with total release, I spoke the words everyone wants to hear from me, a simple south Texas, country bred, cow girl.

“I’m a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut!”

nd these are my tales.



The expression on my face must have been pretty horrendous.  It’s not often that I go out and buy new clothes, knowing I’m going to take a knife to them.  Kari had laughed at the assignment from Master Mark.  She knew how much I’d hate it.  We had gone shopping for the Spandex shorts and sports top a few days before, which in itself had been a trial.  I had ended up owning a pair of shorts just a tad bit too small for me, not to mention a sports top that didn’t actually hold my C cup breasts.  I looked ridiculous. 

The morning of my assignment I had started the sex stuff early.  Kari had instructed me to wear my ben wa balls for the day, a toy that I knew would keep me wet and ready, but not set me off early.  I got my chores done in record time and left a note for my mom saying that I was out “jogging”.  I had dressed in the new spandex before heading out, choosing to bring a spare outfit for coming back in, rather than freezing my ass off on the side of the road.  It wasn’t super cold, but it was cool, and the thought of exposing huge expanses of naked flesh to temperatures just above fifty degrees was not my idea of a great way to start the day.

Kari and Mark had allowed me to also bring a light jacket to wear, provided that I didn’t zip it up or let it cover my breasts.  I was just grateful that there was at least some warmth provided.  I strapped on the fanny pack, already properly loaded, and went to the park.

I love Thomas Park.  It’s really nice.  It’s small, the trail is long enough to be interesting and it loops back on itself.  There is a pleasant gazebo, and enough bushes and undergrowth that it makes it easy to drag someone off to screw their brains out.  I’ve had plenty of adventures there.  When I arrived, dawn was just barely breaking through the storm clouds above and only a soft gray light filtered across the trees.  I could barely see.  There was also a fog, which made me smile. 

I reached over across the seat and picked up the Exacto knife case.  It was one of those extremely sharp hobby knives and I cautiously pulled it out.  Slowly I spread my legs, and with the greatest delicacy, began cutting.   My pussy tightened as the spandex material started to part, the stretched strands that covered my incredibly obvious camel toe, splitting to expose the pink petals beneath. I cut upward, starting low and in the space of half a minute I had sliced enough of my shorts for my flesh to peek out.  I put the Exacto knife down and tugged my labia out through the small incision.  I hadn’t cut quite enough and I had to pull, a sensation I’m quite accustomed too.  I worked my petals and even managed to get my clit to poke out of the hole.  It was probably the most awkward sensation, having my labia outside my shorts.  It felt wrong.  Odd.  It made me off-balance. 

My top went under the knife next and it was much easier to cut two tiny holes and expose my nipples.  The tightness of the sports top helped and in moments two rather hard pink bumps stood at attention, poking out of a sea of black material.  Of course, my right nipple had some hardware to go with it.  The golden hoop piercing the soft pink nub, not to mention the gold and black enameled padlock, hung from my right breast.  My shorts were the same dark color as my top and I’m afraid my swollen and rose colored petals were more than merely obvious.  With my heart thumping, I put up the knife, opened the fanny pack and took out my bottle of Stinging O.  I quickly squeezed several drops of oil onto my nipples.  Stinging O is a concoction of grapeseed oil, pepper oil, and cinnamon oil, mixed together.  Don’t try this at home kiddies! 

Even as I started burning, I coated my clit and then worked the oil down, making sure to spread the tingling heating oil across and over and through each fold.  In moments I was burning between the legs, an indescribable need that really doesn’t translate into written word.  I capped the oil bottle and tucked it away in my fanny pack.  Then I got out of the truck and in the cool, barely lit dawn, proceeded to the trail. 

I’m not a big fan of jogging.  Not that I don’t like it, but to me it’s always seemed something of a ridiculous sport.  I’m trim because I work my ass off all day feeding the cows and horses and plowing, harvesting, and running irrigation sprinklers.  I don’t have time to be anything BUT trim.  Breakfast and lunch are usually hurried affairs and dinner is usually at home. I don’t eat out much.  In fact, I weighed more while living with Kari in college than I do now.  Of course, when I’m not working, I usually am still burning calories, but in a way much more exciting.  Do you have any idea how many calories you use while masturbating?

I started pounding asphalt.  The first thing I noticed was that with every step, my labia were being rubbed between my thighs.  It was an extremely odd sensation, one that the Stinging O did not combine well with.  My clit was also getting more than a fair share of attention and the sliding of the slick spandex material constantly brushing against my clitoris had me turned on in mere seconds.  I was also still wearing my ben wa balls and frankly the running was doing some rather intense sexual things to me.  The cool air on my nipples, but not on any other part of my breast merely heightened my awareness of the exposure, tightening the nubs even harder.  I did one full lap, which is a quarter of a mile, without seeing another soul.  I stopped near the gazebo, my chest heaving and I opened my fanny pack.  Extracting the triple vibroballs wasn’t hard, and I turned away from the parking lot and spread my legs wide apart.

I tugged the ben wa balls free and licked them quickly before tucking them away in my fanny pack, wrapped in a dry cotton wash cloth.  Then I began inserting the triple vibroballs.  It didn’t take very long. I was already soaked and there was still enough Stinging O oil left all over my petals to make pushing the small ovoid vibrators in very easy.  My spandex shorts pressed on my labia and I turned the triple vibroballs up to medium, gasping softly in the pre-dawn air.  With the remote in my left hand, I turned back toward the parking lot.  As I began my required ten jumping jacks, I watched, with a rapidly increasing pulse, another car pull up into the parking lot.  A young man got out, about my age, dressed in tee shirt and shorts.  He did a few stretches even as I finished my jacks, and then with just a cursory glance toward me, he started off down the trail.

I was finished with my first quarter of a mile run, but still had three quarters left.  I too took off down the trail, but counter-clockwise, knowing that we would eventually pass each other in the woodened section on the back side of the park.  The remote to the vibroballs was held tightly in my right hand and I thumped down the concrete trail, chest heaving, my pussy trembling in sexual excitement, all while my most secret parts were clearly on display if someone actually looked.  My nipples tingled while my pussy… well my pussy started dripping.  I could feel the wetness on my legs.  It felt incredible, as if I were being finger fucked, licked, and set up on public display all at the same time! 

I saw him before he saw me, but it was only a second later before his eyes took in the sight.  It was much darker under the trees, but I saw him blink, the look of shock on his face, then of disbelief, and then I was past him.  I glanced back to see him stalled in the center of the trail, looking back at me.  I didn’t stop, but kept going.   For a second I thought he was going to follow me, to try to catch up, but he didn’t.  I ran along and as I approached the front of the park, I saw him come around from the other side.  He was moving quickly, but as he spied me, he slowed down to a bare crawl.  I did too and as we passed, he looked at my body, his eyes locked on my crotch.  I didn’t really do anything special.  My flapping labia were easy enough to see, the contrast between pale pink skin and black lyrca is pretty distinct.  I continued on to the gazebo.

When I came to a halt in the middle of the wooden structure, I raised my arms up over my head and worked to catch my breath.  A moment later the sound of footsteps came and I turned to see the young man jogging up to the gazebo.  Since it was a dead end side path, there was only one spot for him to come; two if you count my pussy. He hopped up the steps and joined me.   My face turned scarlet and I pressed my thighs together and put one arm across my breasts.

“Morning!” he said amiably.  I smiled and replied in kind.  “Great day for a jog.  Come out here a lot?” he asked nonchalantly, his eyes mentally undressing me.  I suppose that I’d already given him enough not to leave much to the imagination.

I shrugged.  “Not as often as I’d like.”

He glanced down at my shorts and nodded.  “That’s a novel outfit you’re wearing.”

I gulped.  “Thanks.”

He bit his lip, his head bobbing.  “Not that I’m being forward or anything, but you might want to know that your shorts are ripped, and um… well… there’s a lot of you showing.”  He gestured toward my crotch.

My face went from scarlet to beet red.  I licked my lips nervously.  “They aren’t torn. They’re cut,” I said softly, totally embarrassed.

“Cut?  You mean someone cut them?” he asked, clearly confused.

“I cut them.  Before going out to jog,” I whispered, mortified.

He blinked, taken aback by my statement.  “Well.  I see.  Talk about a fashion statement.”  He shook his head in bewilderment.  “Well don’t let me stop you.”  He said and then leaned up against the railing of the gazebo. 

Which left me in one hell of a bind.  At this point I was supposed to put the clothespins on, do ten jumping jacks which would no doubt send the clothespins flying at least once, snapping off my body.  I thought about leaving, moving on down the trail to do it.  But then I realized that this was exactly what Master Mark had WANTED.  He wanted me humiliated like this, to put myself on display.  More sunlight was starting to fill the park, turning dark shadows into lighter ones, and it meant more people showing up soon.  I didn’t have much time.  I fumbled at my fanny pack and extracted the three clothespins.  Then summoning every ounce of courage, I spread my legs.

My companion went rigid, his body tensing and I was pretty sure I could see his cock harden under his shorts.  I reached down between my legs, spreading my tightly squeezed and exposed labia and opened them.  The wire leading into my depths was fairly obvious as was the remote and I saw the look in my audience’s eye.  It took me only a moment to find my clit and then I hissed tightly as I set the clothespin dangling from the tiny nub of sexual pleasure. 

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, straightening, his eyes locked on me.  I dropped my left arm, exposing my nipples and I added the other two clothespins, wincing as they bit the tips of my breasts.  Then I lifted both arms and started my jumping jacks.  I made it to two before the clothespins on my breasts fell off, clattering to the wooden floor of the gazebo.  I bent down to retrieve them and quickly put them back on, my audience riveted.  On my third jack the clothespin on my clit came off, bouncing away.  In short order I had things back in place and was reseating each clothespin between each jumping jack.  By the time I got to ten my pussy was throbbing.  Remember the triple vibroballs were still on, buzzing inside me and my nipples were reporting all sorts of interesting sensations.

I took off without a word, jogging out of the gazebo, down the steps, and back out to the trail.  The young man caught up with me in about ten seconds.

“Can I jog with you?” he asked.  He wasn’t even breathing hard.  I nodded, my chest heaving from more than just exertion.  My entire body was thrumming with sexual need.  I wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him right then and there.  I held the triple vibroballs remote in my hand and ran.   We went about thirty paces and the clothespin on my clit snapped off.  It was probably due to my thighs brushing against my extended labia, but I groaned and stumbled to a halt.  He stopped too, watching, his eyes bright and astonished as I picked up the clothespin and put it back on my clit.

As we started along again, this time with me being a bit more cautious, he glanced over.  “So um… can I ask why you’re jogging with clothespins on your tits and pussy?”   The words came out forcefully due to our running.  I took another deep breath.

“It’s an assignment,” I replied, my chest heaving, my breasts bouncing.   Both clothespins wiggled and I could feel the weight of them tugging on my nipples.  Oh god, I needed a fuck.

“This is an assignment?” he asked.  We rounded the back side of the park.  A gentle glow spilled over and the first actual glimmers of direct sunlight sparkled through the trees.  We went a few more steps and the clothespin on my left nipple snapped off.  My right side was secure, thanks to the fact the clothespin was biting BEHIND my piercing.  But I had to screech to a halt and bend over to get the wooden peg. 

“Don’t those hurt?” he asked.  He watched closely as I reattached the clothespin to my breast. 
I nodded. “Of course.  That’s the point,” I said shortly, then took off again.

He caught up a second later.  “You want it to hurt?  Are you a masochist or something?” he demanded.
I nodded my head, my hair swishing.  “Pain slut,” I replied.  My breathing was getting very hard and frankly I felt like I was going to cum soon.  I put on a bit more speed and then turned off the trail.  I pounded up to the gazebo for stop number three and my jogging companion followed.  This time I didn’t try to hide myself and leaned against the rail, my thighs open, legs spread at least three or four feet.  My pussy was flushed and the petals looked as if someone had been pulling on them.   Every fold glistened with moisture or oil and the clothespin between my legs seemed to bob up and down, hanging off my clit. 

As I began to remove the clothespin, he moved forward, coming at me.  I watched in astonishment as he went to his knees in front of me, hands coming up to my hips.  He grabbed me tightly, burying his face between my thighs and then his tongue touched me, licking upward and I cried out in exquisite bliss, dropping the clothespin to the gazebo floor.  He nibbled at my clit, striking it with force before sliding softly over it.  The folds of my flower were tasted, suckled, bitten, and then drawn into his mouth.  It felt so good I didn’t even wonder if the remnants of Stinging O were making my folds spicy!  My hips moved, grinding myself against him and as I felt the first tremors of orgasmic release, I cried out and pushed him away. 

“No! Not yet! Please!  One more lap and then you can fuck me!” I gasped.  He looked up at me and nodded.  I could see the pulse pounding in his throat.  I fumbled at my fanny pack and drew out the alligator clamps.  You should have seen his eyes.  I cupped my hands beneath my breasts and stuck them out, waving my clothespin clamped nipples at him.  He pulled them off, sending more sparks of pain through me that went straight to my cunt and changed into something dark and pulsing.  I put on the alligator clamps, complete with chain connecting them, and then once more spread my soaked thighs, parted the saliva and need soaked petals, to expose my clit.  I pinched open the jumbo alligator clamp and settled it above my clitoris.  It bit down and I cried out, barely able to stand up right.  He held me up and as soon as I was capable of balance, I began my jumping jacks.

It hurt.  Oh God, it hurt so much. The clamps bounced.  They tore at me.  And yet all it did was create a greater sexual urgency in me.  I took off as soon as I hit ten, bolting down the path and running.  I had to.  Otherwise I would have ripped that guy’s shorts off and just leapt on him.  He pounded after me, chasing me, and together we circled the park, the last quarter of a mile, in about two minutes.  As we approached the front of the park again, I saw two more joggers begin their rounds.  They came toward us.  I didn’t care.  I couldn’t.  We pounded past them and I saw the looks, the flash of disbelief.  We kept going past the gazebo and then I swerved off the path, grabbing his arm.  There’s a small clearing back behind the bushes that is tough to see, and even tougher to find.  He followed me willingly and when we burst through the bushes and the rays of dawn touched me, I turned toward him.

“Take them off! Hurry! Please!” I begged, cupping my tits.  His hands were shaking as he released my nipples and I stifled the cry as the blood rushed back into my crushed nubs.  His thumb played with the padlock on my right nipple and then he fell to his knees, his hands coming up to touch my pussy.  I let out a sharp whimper as the jumbo alligator clamp was loosened, the tender nub freed at last.  He handed me the clamps and I threw them down in the grass, away from us.  The vibroballs came next and then I fell on him like a hungry vampire.  I practically ripped off his shorts, not to mention HIS spandex undershorts.  Inside I found his cock and I tugged it out, ignoring his movements or protests.  Actually, I don’t think he protested.  All I know is that he reached out to remove my clothing but I stopped him.  I swung my leg over his, our hips grinding and I felt the tip of his spear slide through my slick slit.  I undulated, rocking my hips and then we were joined, his cock filling me, his hands gripping my sports bra clad breasts, his thumbs teasing my exposed nipples. 

“Fuck me! Yes!” I whispered again as we moved, rhythmically pumping.  My chest heaved with the desperate exertion and it wasn’t long before I was groaning loudly, ignoring the fact that the other joggers in the park might be able to hear me, might investigate.  Our bodies moved in the cool dawn air, light and shadow glimmering around us.  I ripped off my little jacket, tossing it aside. I was hot.  My bra went next, the spandex getting caught on my nipple piercing and tugging on my breast painfully.  It didn’t matter.  I lay across him, flesh to flesh, our lips meeting, our tongues twirling, my body stuffed and impaled upon his shaft.  He rolled me then, pushing me down into the soft grass.  My legs spread wide and he pinned me.  I lifted my arms above my head and with one hand he pinned my wrists, holding me open, spread, available as his cock moved in and out of me.

It was one of the best sexual experiences of my life.  It was sweet and spicy, humiliating and satisfying.  We made love under the sky and the blue clouds of dawn and the trees and the birds and the cold air against our skin.  When we were done the perspiration on our slick skin beaded and he wrapped his arms around me, warming me against the shiver that went down my spine.

My shorts were ruined.  The cut had turned into a tear that exposed everything, but I solved that expediently by wrapping my jacket around my waist.  I found the clamps in the grass and they went back into my bag.  My sports bra went back on, but this time I didn’t tug the padlock or nipple piercing through.  My left nipple poked out of the material, but there was nothing I could do about that.  We walked back to the parking lot slowly, arm in arm, the afterglow making us both smile.

“So um… would you… maybe be interested in some breakfast?” he asked.  “I know a great place just down the road.”

I gave him a smile. I was hungry.  “Just let me grab some clothes from my truck,” I replied softly, still in a languorous mood from the sex.  I reached for the truck but he stopped me, one hand on my arm.
“You don’t need them.  I like what you’re wearing,” he whispered.  His eyes glimmered.  I grinned as he opened his car door for me.  I tugged loose the jacket from my waist.  Instantly, my pussy was in perfect view, wet, ready and wanting.  He reached down, ran a finger through my cum soaked slit, caressing my exposed skin.  I sat down in the seat and leaned back, spreading my legs wide and lifting my arms up above my head.  He bent down and kissed me, deeply and with passion, several fingers wriggling inside me. I moaned, grabbed him and kissed him back.

“Ready?” he asked me gently.

I nodded.  “I’m always wet and ready.”  He grinned in response.

And know what?

I am.

For your anniversary, you will be going for a jog.  The goal is simple: humiliation and suffering.  For this assignment you will dress yourself in cheap, skin tight Spandex jogging shorts, no panties, a sports bra, and a fanny pack.  Prior to jogging, you will take a sharp knife and make several incisions in your attire.   The first cut will be in the crotch of your jogging shorts.  Cut a single slit two and a half inches in length along your labia.  Once you have made the incision, you will tug your labia out through the slit.  Your clit should be exposed, but the material of the shorts should press tightly on your folds.  Once your labia are exposed, take the knife and cut slits in your sports bra, right above your nipples.  You might need to make several cuts, but the end result should be the tips, and just the tips, of both nipples exposed.    In your fanny pack you will bring: your small bottle of Stinging O, your triple vibroballs, three clothespins, and your set of alligator clamps, including the jumbo one you use for clamping your clit.

You will proceed to your local park, one that is known for jogging, preferably at a very early hour when the lighting is still not good.  Upon arrival you will lubricate both of your exposed nipples, as well as your labia and clit with the Stinging O.  You will then begin your jog.  After jogging for one quarter of a mile, you should stop, spread your legs, and put the triple vibroballs in your pussy.  Turn them on to medium.  You will hold the remote in your hand.  Complete ten jumping jacks.  Continue jogging.  After another quarter of a mile, you will again stop.  You will apply the clothespin to your clit and both nipples.  Complete another ten jumping jacks.  Run another quarter of a mile.  Now put on your alligator clamps.  To remove them, find another jogger who is willing to fuck you.  They may remove the clamps prior to sex.  Enjoy!
- Master Mark



Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 6 is available in ebook format from the following booksellers: