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

The Hanging

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The Hanging

Is it rape when you enjoy it?  I’m not sure.  I’m one of those girls who enjoy a good fucking no matter where I am, or with who, which is one of my problems.  But bent over the desk of Deputy Ricks, my wrists locked firmly in a set of steel handcuffs, stark naked after being strip searched, just seemed rather improper to me.  I didn’t say yes to the man, in fact, I had absolutely no control over it.  The leather collar around my neck holding the larynx paralyzer device kept me from objecting.  Of course it kept me from consenting too. The only thing escaping from my throat were muted whimpers and moans.

He was pounding me pretty hard too.  I could feel his long and thick cock sliding in and out of my pussy with regular deep strokes, as if he were checking to make sure I didn’t have any contraband stuck up in there.  I didn’t of course, but I guess he wanted to make sure.  Sheriff Arlen had given orders that I was to be treated with the usual courtesy given to female prisoners.

I’m guessing you are wondering what I got arrested for.  No, it wasn’t something stupid like shoplifting.  I don’t have to steal. I get pretty much everything I need just by bartering.  Granted, I barter sex, but it works, okay.  How was I supposed to know that the bastard in the stables didn’t actually OWN the horses?  So when the sheriff and his posse caught me just outside of town, I wasn’t even running.  I didn’t even get a chance to explain myself.  I heard the buzz of his hover scooter, marked with the blue and red flashing lights and then there was this tingle and I found myself on the ground, unable to move.  I remember being able to see the sky and wondering if my horse, which turned out to not actually be my horse, was okay.  Sheriff Arlen had looked down at me, shaking his head. 

“Strip her and get her locked up,” he had ordered and his men had done it immediately, right there. I couldn’t stop them.  None of my muscles were able to move.  Now normally, me being naked with a large group of men isn’t that big of a deal.  I’ve done gangbangs before.  No problem.  But when you don’t get the choice, it’s a little different.  They didn’t bother undressing me.  No.  They used their knives.  In seconds one of my two shirts was tatters with strips of cloth lying on the ground.  My jeans were next, cut from my body like a second skin.  You should have heard them chuckling when they discovered I had a set of high powered industrial strength vibroballs stuck up my twat and that my ass had a set of vibrating beads in it.  It’s like they didn’t know what to expect from a nympho humiliation pain slut.

I was charged with theft.  Can you believe it?  And fraud!  As if I KNEW what that bastard had tricked me with.  Sex for a horse!  It’s not like I asked for a hovercar or even a wagon.  They put me in cuffs and instead of loading me up on one of their scooters, they tied a rope to my hands and literally pulled me back to town.  Thank God it wasn’t far. I fell down twice on the dusty road which certainly wasn’t good for my breasts, much less the rest of me.  They shoved me under the water spigot, drenched me good, while the townsfolk got a decent look at my naked body, and then dragged me to the sheriff’s office.

Which was where I was getting my first rape of the day.  Fortunately for me, it was a small town, so there weren’t any other prisoners.  I don’t mind sex, but screwing a bunch of dirty, nasty, crude assholes, isn’t my idea of good fun.  Of course, instead I was being forced to have sex with dirty, nasty, crude DEPUTIZED assholes.  I’m not sure it made a difference actually.

Deputy Ricks came first and I felt him shoot his load into me without much concern for the possible consequences.  In this day and age, when resources are so scarce, a woman’s pregnancy is a major issue.  I didn’t have a license for having a child, which meant a hefty fine and probably imprisonment.  Of course, since I was already technically in jail, I guess it wouldn’t have mattered. 

With a bit of gooey cum dripping from my pussy, I felt another cock enter me, a hard one; one of the other deputies.  My breasts hurt, pressing against the edge of the desk, some of the scratches and minor cuts I had received in my fall, burning.  Minor injuries evidently didn’t matter to the law in this backwater town.  In one of the major cities, I’d have been taken to the fucking hospital for less.  And while I still would have ended up stripped and searched, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been fucked stupid either.

I came during the second screwing.  They hooted and hollered, laughing at the little nympho humiliation pain slut and how she liked it. I felt hands slam into my ass, a burning sting forcing me to hiss as the larynx paralyzer kept me from screaming.  It hurt.  But it also turned me on more and I wiggled my ass almost involuntarily as hands were replaced by belts.

A dozen burning, stinging, welt leaving, strokes later I was penetrated by a third deputy.  I guess he liked sloppy follow ups, especially since I was filled with cum now.  I had sort of just relaxed into the fucking, except when they hit me.  I was half way through the third fuck when the deputy pulled out and flipped me over.

Talk about uncomfortable. I was half on the desk, with both my head and my ass hanging off the edge.  Another deputy grabbed hold of my hands and held my cuffed wrists high while deputy number three went between my legs and started to fuck me again.  The new position made things better.  First of all, my breasts weren’t hurting from the desk.  Second, the fucking I was getting was now rubbing me in some much more tantalizing ways and I could feel my second orgasm cumming like a train.

Until they tasered me.  I had my eyes closed and never saw it coming.  It was one of those ancient hand held shockers, not the gun kind, which no one uses any more because stunners are so much more effective.  Nope, this was one of those archaic hand held devices where you press it to your victim’s skin and press the button and an electric shock travels across their skin from one point of the taser to the other.  Hurts like hell too.  And the bastard did it to my right nipple.

I would have screamed of course.  In fact, I was screaming, just no one could hear it.  I bucked though and it took four more of them to hold me down.  My antics earned me about a dozen more shocks, mostly concentrated on my breasts, but a few got my arms, and when Deputy Dork finally came out from between my legs, the one holding the taser got my clit.  I practically passed out.

Tasers and sex don’t really mix.  They hurt too much.

I was dumped into a cell, still cuffed, and locked into the collar.  I crawled to the cot, ignoring the stream of cum dripping out of my sore and abused pussy, and just collapsed.  Then I fell asleep.

The next day I woke up hungry, but my only breakfast was another load of cum. This time it was delivered orally as the one deputy present forced a blowjob out of me through the bars.  I delivered, hoping I was going to get some of that coffee I could smell, or maybe some bacon and eggs.  But after getting a long stream of acrid tasting man cum, all I got was a little shove and a laugh.  Bastard.

An hour later, stomach still rumbling, Sheriff Arlen showed up.  He never said a word about my condition, which wasn’t too spiffy. I was dirty from the knees down, thanks to the previous day’s walk barefoot through mud and dust.  My ass was marked from the belt whipping I had gotten the day before, and I was splattered with dry cum.  My long red hair was scraggly, in serious need of a washing, and looked like I had used it to mop the floor.  I was covered in little scratches from my fall on the way back to town and frankly, I looked worse for wear.

I was dragged out of the jail cell and once more marched through town naked.  Why on earth did these morons put the courthouse at the OTHER end of Main Street?  Again I was the center of attention.  These are conservative people out here in the hinterlands.  A nympho humiliation pain slut, an official one, is something of a rarity.  We don’t come out here that often; it’s easier to function in the cities, but gosh if they didn’t stare.  I made it halfway before one lady threw a fucking tomato at me.  It smacked me right in the chest, exploding into a runny mess of red juice that dripped down into my bare slit.  I felt juices mingle as my pussy quivered.

Sheriff Arlen didn’t say anything, just kept me moving along.   At one point we passed a gallows.  It was old, but it looked functional, and I had to wonder about a town that kept their hanging station up permanently.  I passed it with a shudder.  Thank God my crime didn’t merit a death penalty.   No more fruit was thrown at me and we made it to the courthouse with no more interruptions.  The Sheriff marched me through the door and into the single courtroom.  A large wooden bench was at the front and sitting behind it was a man in black robes.  He was gray haired, held a gavel, and I could see from his expression that he had absolutely no pity for me.  I was fuck meat and not even worthy of his attention.  The charges were read against me and then the asshole that started this whole thing was brought in.  He told them all of how I tricked him with sex, keeping him busy why I stole a horse.  I rolled my eyes.  How the hell do I fuck someone AND steal a horse at the same time? It didn’t even make sense!  Some unflattering words were used to describe me: harlot, whore, fuck doll, cunt, and a host of others.  No one wanted to use my title, as if Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut wasn’t an accepted profession by the Federation.  It just sucked.

For some reason, I didn’t get an opportunity to enter a plea.  It was just sort of skipped over.  I didn’t even realize it until the sentence was being pronounced.  I still had the larynx paralyzer on so all I could really do was hop up and down while emitting this high pitched whine.  Sheriff Arlen, grabbed my arm, pressed his stunner to my left breast, right at the nipple, and pulled the trigger.

From a distance, stunners don’t really hurt.  They emit a sort of electrical phase charge that fucks with your nervous system.  You go down.  Simple.  It takes about ten minutes to regain enough of your control back to even stand.  The nice thing is that it targets motor control, so you get to keep breathing and stuff.

But shot from point blank range, the stunner does some bad things.  First of all, it shorts out the nerves at the impact point since the effect is concentrated.  And it’s painful.  How painful?  Well, imagine me kicking you in balls, and while you’re still suffering from that I take a blowtorch and an electric arc welder and apply them both to your nuts at the same time.

It hurts worse than that.  Trust me. 

My throat was raw by the time I was able to stand again and I felt as if someone had sliced and diced my left tit and poured salt and lemon juice on it.  The pain had floored me and I was crying and whimpering.  My breast was swollen, already red from what scientists called “psychosomatic reaction”.  My nerves told my body I was hurting and in pain, so my body began to swell, reacting to it, despite no actual damage.  In seconds my left breast was almost twice the size of my right, and so tender and sore that a single touch of my nipple against Sheriff Arlen’s shirt sleeve almost sent me to my knees.

The sentence was extreme: death by hanging, which was to immediately follow a public whipping.  That’s what drove me crazy of course.  I thought for a moment that I could appeal.  No serious court in the Federation would allow this atrocity of justice to prevail and I’d be acquitted, just on improper procedure alone.  Hell, if I brought up the rape in the jail house, Arlen and his flunkies would probably be arrested themselves!

But the judge also added “to be carried out at once”.  I burst into tears.  It just wasn’t fair!

I was half carried out of the courthouse and I heard one of the deputies announcing the punishment.  In what seemed like seconds I was surrounded by about twenty people all yelling nasty things at me.  I got hit with more stuff, some of which I think was horse shit.  I almost passed out when one piece struck my left breast.  Pain blossomed up through me and I stumbled. 

The gallows wasn’t that far away and I was dragged to it followed by the growing crowd.  It had an almost festive air and I was lifted up to stand on this box as Deputy Ricks put the rope around my neck. I wasn’t offered a blindfold or a sack. No, I got to look into the hungry eyes of every single one of those town folks.

The box I was standing on was pretty narrow, maybe eight inches by ten inches, and so I had to concentrate a bit not to fall.  My hands were still bound behind me, thrusting my breasts forward, wrists locked in the steel bracelets that frequently decorate all of us convicted felons.  The only thing holding me up was the rope around my neck and my own two feet.  I watched as Sheriff Arlen was handed a big old heavy leather whip.

I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut, and I like to think I’m a bit more used to pain than your common slut.  I’m used to all sorts of things: spankings, clamps, pliers, the occasional needle, chemicals, hot wax, even metal dildos heated up in the oven; all sorts of things.  Except that none of those things actually caused damage.  I get turned on from pain, but it has to be SEXUALIZED pain. I don’t have an orgasm when you come over and break my arm.

And so while I’ve been whipped before, and cum from it, I wasn’t prepared for what Sheriff Arlen did to me.  The first stroke landed across my belly and it was like he had taken a hot brand and drawn it across my midsection. I screamed, or at least I tried to, and the crowd roared their disapproval.  Arlen rolled his eyes and then reached up to change the settings on the larynx paralyzer. I immediately tried to beg, pain lancing up from my waist, but nothing came out.  Arlen pulled back and the next stroke landed across my thighs, almost hitting my mons.  I screamed and was astonished to hear it.  Evidently the paralyzer allowed certain types of sound through.  How astonishing. I never knew it.

The next stroke however drove every thought from my mind.  He hit me across the chest and when the whip struck my swollen left breast I let loose with everything I had.  I’m not sure if I actually passed out, but what roused me was a sudden pressure on my RIGHT breast, right before I heard Sheriff Arlen say, “It’s too bad these don’t match”.  Then he pulled the trigger on the stunner.

I did pass out that time.  I know because when I woke up, two deputies were holding me in the gallows, preventing me from strangling to death.  Ooops.  The morons.  They should have thought of that.  At that point everything was hurting so much that I could barely stand.  My wrists were uncuffed and then a rope was tied around them.  It was tossed up and over the gallows arm above me and I was pulled upright, taking the pressure off the noose and the two deputies.  I hung there, my entire body on fire, hurting like I’ve never hurt before or since.

I couldn’t feel the pain of my arms bearing my weight, mostly because my breasts hurt so badly.  It was as if someone had used both tits for punching bags, repeatedly smashing them, squeezing them, and then used a kitchen molecular tenderizer on the flesh to break the atomic bonds holding my breasts together.  That’s just a guess since no one has ever used a kitchen molecular tenderizer on me before. 

The crowd began calling for more strokes and Sheriff Arlen obliged, though he started concentrating on my ass.  To be honest, while I felt the whip, my breasts still hurt too much for it to grab my attention. I just endured it.  Stroke after stroke.  I felt something start to drip down my leg and was astonished to see blood splatters between my feet.  I was bleeding!

Arlen moved around to my front, sending the whip against my thighs. It hurt.  At one point he ordered his deputies to grab my legs and lift me up, spreading me so that crowd got a good view of my pussy.  Then he took just a foot or so of the whip in his hand and lashed it against my clit, sending me into screaming convulsions.  The crowd loved it.

I got put down again, every part of me now hurting in some way and I heard the crowd begin to chant.  I strained to make it out.  “Whip her tits! Whip her tits!  Whip her tits!” they shouted.  The blood was rushing in my ears and I turned away from Arlen as he lifted the whip. It did me no good as the long eight foot leather cord wrapped itself around me, the impact driving it at least an inch into my soft chest.

And I screamed.  Pain shot up through me and took my breath away. Agony and fire laced my cries and tears poured down my face as the whip struck me.  He pulled back and hit me again, literally opening tiny tears in my skin, right across the tender swollen nipples.  Two strokes later I was hanging from my arms, unable to support my own weight.  Red welts had appeared across both tits and a few of them were actually deep enough to bleed.  I was on the verge of passing out when a bucket of water was thrown on me.

I blinked.  Everything hurt.  But Sheriff Arlen had put down the whip.  It was hanging time.  I tried to think but I couldn’t.  I held my breath, expecting the trap door to fall and for me to dangle. I didn’t even realize that my hands were still tied above me, and that I was dangling from my arms and not my neck.

Deputy Ricks approached again and he was holding a few things in his hands. He pushed my knees apart and I tried to sort out what was happening.  The deputy lifted up a small plastic oval, fitted with straps, and pressed it to my clit.  I jerked away in surprise, but then recognized it as my butterfly toy, a specially designed clitoral stimulator that was a common accessory for all nympho humiliation pain sluts.  Ricks began strapping it on, the Velcro straps holding it tightly to my clitoris. 

Then I recognized my vibroballs.  They’re just two little golf ball shaped spheres connected together by a wire, which in turn leads to a remote.  As a nympho humiliation pain slut, I’m required to keep something stuffed inside my pussy at all times, and I like the gentle slow shaking the vibroballs provide on their lowest setting. On their highest setting I usually cum, though it takes awhile. It’s just one of many toys I use.   I felt Ricks pressing them up into me and I groaned.  I wasn’t in the mood for sex, but my body is trained to react to something touching my pussy and I immediately lubricated.  How odd is that?

When both balls were settled inside me, Ricks turned them on, and on high.  They roared to life and I immediately felt the trembling vibrations inside me.  There was too much pain for the little sexual stimulation to overcome, but when Ricks added the clitoral stimulator to the mix, I felt the first surge of sexual need rush through me.  I wasn’t even close to cumming, but I could tell that eventually, I was going to.

When Ricks turned back to me he was holding another set of toys obviously stolen from my belongings.  I cringed, fear brimming in my eyes as I contemplated what he was about to do.  In each hand rested a nipple clamp, which in and of itself would cause excruciating pain considering the state of my breasts.  But dangling from each clamp was a small plastic encased motor, slightly off balance, which would vibrate maniacally, sending tremors into my damaged tits.  I pulled away, ignoring the sensations between my legs, but it did me no good.  Ricks handed one clamp to Arlen and they approached me together. 

I screamed as the clamps crushed my nipples.  Evidently Ricks had taken time to readjust the preset tension, setting them to something a bit tighter. I shook from the pain, tripled by the swelling and damage my nerves had taken when stunned, and I began sobbing.  Tears rolled down my face and I just dangled there, hurting.  The vibrations from the clamps began translating into my tits, reigniting the pain that had just swelled from the clamping. 

There is something about pain that acts as a sort of anesthesia.  Too much of it and your mind begins to block it out, using the chemicals it produces, like adrenaline and endorphins to numb your senses.  That’s why I can wear a set of really cruel nipple clamps all day.  Sure it hurts, but eventually the hurt becomes this dull ache because your nerves and brain can’t take any more.  I got to that point pretty quickly.  And when I did, my brain started to notice what was happening inside my pussy and to my clit.

And I started to feel the sexual urge.  My hips began thrusting lewdly as the crowd laughed and jeered.  My juices began dripping down my leg, mixing with the blood and sweat that had poured off me earlier.  Even my breasts began to contribute to my libido as my nipples translated the increased sensitivity to stimulation to my poor brain.  I moaned in want and desire.

Deputy Ricks and Sheriff Arlen untied my hands from above me and I almost bought it right then.  It was hard to put my weight back on my feet, but I managed. My arms hurt, but I didn’t care at that point, and the two men cuffed my hands behind my back again.  I felt the sharp pinprick of the biosensor being placed on my temple, wincing as the little monofilament needle penetrated my temple and connected to my synapses.  They would know when I came.

They stepped away from me, obviously intent on watching the show.  I swayed precariously, only staying upright by the noose tightening around my neck. I tried to think of non-sexual thoughts, of gross things, of Arlen dangling from this very noose while I pressed his stunner against his balls, pulling the trigger.  That last thought actually kept me entertained for quite a while.  My vision started to black out, to tunnel, and I no longer saw the crowd. 

I couldn’t hold it off.  My body was trained to orgasm, to cum, to explode, to release, to please, to hurt, to be humiliated.  I am a nympho humiliation pain slut, a girl trained and dedicated to providing others with sexual gratification, and if I enjoy it myself, that just makes me better at it. I am a fuck toy, meant to be screwed and hurt and whipped and fucked over and over again.  I have had so many men, and almost as many women, my tongue and hands and mouth and pussy and ass giving pleasure and taking pain.  I lived to be humiliated, embarrassed, presented, bound, flogged, and forced to cum.

And I came.  I felt the build up inside me and I couldn’t stop it.  It rushed up through me like a galloping stallion, bent on escaping the cowboy’s lasso.  It was like one of those new intergalactic space cruisers barreling along at thousands of kilometers per second, breaking planetary gravity wells.  It was like the soft kiss of a beautiful girl, unable to be resisted.

The drop was sudden. Evidently the trapdoor was rigged to go when I came.  There was a six inch jerk which brought me up short and my feet dangled.  I swung my legs, trying to find purchase even as my throat was closed off. I couldn’t breath.  My mind flooded with the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced and I blinked as my vision went red.  I trembled, the explosion of sex overwhelming me even as I swung, my body twisting, my lungs wanting air.  Black spots appeared before my eyes and then I saw Sheriff Arlen, a pneumatic hypo-syringe in his hand.  I didn’t feel it as he pressed it against my ass, but I saw him grinning as the world faded into black.

No doubt by now you’re aware that I didn’t die.  I woke up back in the Sheriff’s office.  It was dark outside. I was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, my cuts and scratches bandaged.  My breasts were tender and sore, but no longer twice their usual size.  I slowly sat up, a pounding headache ravaging my temples. 

Sheriff Arlen stepped in through the open cell door, holding a small paper cup and two white pills.

“Aspirin?” I asked, my voice sounding odd after so long in the larynx paralyzer.  He nodded.

“Out here?  Did you expect Codeine?” he replied.

I took the pills and swallowed gratefully, washing them down with the water. It tasted good.  I was thirsty.

I blinked and handed him the cup.  “Did you have to use the stunner?” I demanded.  He just laughed.

A wad of money landed on the bunk bed next to me. I didn’t bother to count it.  No one would cheat a nympho humiliation pain slut of her commission fee.  My bags were lying on the floor next to the cot and I shoved the bundle of cash into it.  Slowly I stood up.

“You should probably think about leaving town.  I’m not sure how the folks will handle your miraculous recovery.  They think we hung you till you were dead.”

I snorted and began pulling a new outfit from my bag.  “They’d probably want to have me whipped and hung again, for real this time.”

Arlen nodded.  Then he stuck his thumbs in his gun belt and left the jail.  “But town morale has never been better.  May hire you again next year.”

I stared at him for a moment, my head still pounding.  Then I nodded.

My personal hover scooter was still behind the jail, fully charged and I slung my bag over the handle and climbed aboard.  I had my Husky dildo in my pussy. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to handle more vibrations just yet.  But NHPS Rule #1 states I have to be stuffed at all times.

This is what I am; a nympho humiliation pain slut.  It’s what I do.

And I love it.


The End

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