Serendipity

09/17/2012

It was a hot morning. The south Texas sun was already beating down and I’d been at it for hours. Working a farm, especially all by yourself, is not an easy job and I was sweaty, uncomfortable, and maybe just a little grumpy. And that’s when I felt the buzz.

I mean, a different buzz. 

The new vibration was still coming from the tight blue denim shorts I was wearing, but unlike the old buzz, which had been going pretty much since I’d headed out to the barn that morning, this new sensation was coming from my back pocket. With a sigh of frustration I put down both buckets, shucked the work gloves off my hands, and pulled my cellphone out.

“Hello?” I said into my phone. I may have sounded a bit tense, because I was. In fact, not moving around made it worse. The buzzing I mean.  

“Hey, Bre,” a male voice said and I stifled a groan. I recognized the voice. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the guy on the other end of the line. In fact, I adored him. But a phone call right at this particular moment was not going to end up well for me.

“Hello, Zack,” I replied. “How is my favorite fraternity president this year?”

There was laughter on the line. “I didn’t get the president slot, Bre. But I’m treasurer, which suits me better anyway.”

Zack was a member (and I guess treasurer) of a fraternity associated with one of Houston’s colleges. Specifically, my old alma mater. He and I had been friends for several years, despite the fact I’d graduated years before he’d gotten his bachelorette. Now he was working on his graduate degree in engineering and was even a teaching assistant. But more importantly, he was someone who knew my dirty little secrets. 

“So how is my favorite nympho humiliation pain slut today?”

I felt a spasm ripple through my loins as he said it, which was very much related to the old buzz I was still feeling. “Zack, I’m the only nympho humiliation pain slut you know,” I retorted. 

“Still my favorite. Are you following nympho humiliation pain slut rule number one?”

Rule number one. Both the best and worst rule in the fucking world. I almost groaned. I snorted. “Of course I am.”

He grunted in disappointment. “Damn. I keep hoping you’ll screw up or something and I’ll get to punish you,” he admitted. 

“Is that what you want to do?” I asked. “Punish me?”

He laughed. “In a very sexual, orgasmic manner,” he replied assuredly.

It was my turn to laugh. “Then you don’t need me to screw up to punish me,” I declared. “Just do it.”

“So what’s the toy of the day?” 

I sighed. “You could just check my twitter feed, Zack.” I said grumpily. Posting whatever diabolical torment toy happened to be stuffed in my soft, wet little box was a daily requirement. Kari called it “marketing”. I called it sadistic. 

There was a pause and I was positive he was checking his iPad. Zack doesn’t go anywhere without it.  

“Ahh… no wonder you sound tense. Double vibroballs on low.”

Which was a fair description of the old buzz. I’d slipped the two, golf-ball sized spheres into my pussy that morning, right after I’d woken up. And then turned them on. Had I asked the engineer on the other end of the line, he would have described their function rather simply. A pink colored controller, which was tucked into my right front pocket, contained two double A batteries, the energy of which, when activated, flowed down an equally bright and pink wire, which disappeared up the leg hole of my jean shorts, ending in a very private, soaked, and sexually explicit spot. At the end of the wires were the two previously mentioned spheres. Each ball contained a powerful motor capped with an offset weight, which caused the plastic housing to experience slippage, creating an oscillation wave. 

In other words, it vibrated. A lot. Even set to low. 

“Right on,” I said, shifting my hips.  

“So have you cum?” 

I shook my head. That was almost entirely part of the problem. On low, the vibroballs weren’t quite enough to push me over the edge, leaving me in a sort of sexual purgatory. Horny as hell, but not quite able to get to heaven. “No,” I replied sourly. “Not supposed to.” Which was why I hadn’t turned them up. On high I think I would have popped in about two minutes. 

“Consequences?”

I kicked at the bucket near my right foot. “Oh,” I grumped. “The usual. Clothespin on my clit and a set of nympho humiliation pain slut pushups.”

Which Zack would be able to picture in his mind rather easily. It involved me stripping naked, attaching a wooden peg to my swollen, wet, sensitive clitoris, tossing a black rubber mat studded with tacks on the floor, prickly side up, and positioning my dangling breasts right above the sharp little tips. They stuck out of the mat just enough to leave little red dots all over my breasts, but not enough to puncture skin. Of course, a NHPS Pushup also meant lifting my hands off the ground, putting my entire weight on my tits. 

“Plus the vibroballs have to go up a level,” I said. Which of course meant that I’d be that much more likely to lose control again, resulting in another set of NHPS pushups, and the vibroballs getting set to high. For the rest of the freaking day. More unauthorized orgasms. More pushups. More sexual torment. And more orgasms. It was a vicious cycle. 

“Well that sounds absolutely delightful. For the duration of our conversation, I’d like you to turn the vibroballs to full power.”

I gulped, but frankly, I’d been expecting exactly that order. And I had to follow it. That was also one of the Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rules. Specifically Number Two, which specified that a girl like me had to be ready and able to endure a painful punishment/torture at any time, for anyone, for any reason. Or maybe Zack’s command was more about Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule Number Three. A NHPS is not allowed to refuse to perform a sexual act that is within her prescribed limits. Turning up the vibroballs was definitely not a violation of my limits. 

I quivered a little, but then tugged the blocky pink box remote out of my pocket.  A quick slide of my thumb along the control wheel changed the vibrations between my legs from a dull gentle purr into a powerful, throttling race engine. I gasped a little, then tightened my thighs together. And now I was on a timer. 

“Okay, it’s up,” I said in a squeaky, high pitched voice as the waves of sexual pleasure began slicing through me. Already I was having trouble controlling my hips. I felt the twitches starting. I kicked the bucket again, then began to walk in a circle. Maybe movement would take away some of the edge.

“Great,” replied Zack. “Well the reason I called is because it's pledge week.”

I froze. I mean, the vibroballs didn’t. They kept rumbling and shaking in my pussy like a bowl of gelatin on a table getting kicked by a two year old. But the rest of me? Yeah. I froze. But actually, it was that time of year again. And I’d been available for pledge week the previous fall.

“Oh,” I gulped. “Um… okay.”

“Are you available on Friday evening?”

I had to think about that. I was a pretty popular little fuck slut. Between Kari, Julie, Zack, Nick, and a host of other occasional individuals who all liked tormenting, torturing, tickling, and teasing their favorite little nympho humiliation pain slut, I had a pretty busy schedule. Except… I was free on Friday evening.

“Um… yes,” I replied. And now my pussy really did tighten. Going to the fraternity house was always an adventure. I’d be the only girl in an entire building full of young, sexually healthy men, all of whom had absolutely no qualms about doing perverted things to a completely willing, totally fucked up girl who liked her sex rough, intense, and more than a little uncomfortable. 

“Demerits?” I asked.

Zack laughed. “Of course.” 

I realized my hips were pumping now. The vibroballs were dancing and swirling in my sex and I could feel the fresh surge of wetness. If this phone call didn’t end in the next twenty seconds, I was fucked. 

“Okay,” I said, groaning again. I twisted my hips as I struggled to control myself.  It was only partially working. 

“Cool,” he replied. “Do you want to spend the night?”

I bit my lip as the sexual pressure inside me reached the boiling point. “In your room?” I panted. Snuggling up to Zack was never a bad thing. The guy was handsome as fuck, with sandy blonde to brown hair, usually a little messy, and a thin, ropy frame. He was also very strong. I closed my eyes. Imagining him naked, poised above me, his cock about to go right into my pussy, was not what I needed right then, standing in the barn, my pussy shaking violently, on the cusp of orgasm.

“Well, that depends on you,” he replied. “Doesn’t it?”

I gasped the words, instantly discerning his meaning. “No cumming?” And as I did, my right hand went down to my crotch. I spread my thighs and began pressing hard above my clit, rubbing myself through the denim. There was nothing I could do. The orgasm finally crested and I cried out in pleasure, right into the phone as I exploded wetly. My limbs jerked wildly for a moment and then I collapsed onto a nearby bale of hay, vision blurry, the buzzing between my legs still going strong. I groaned in rapture as the mixture of endorphins and adrenaline kept me sky high. The perfect buzz. 

“Breanne?” Zack said softly.

“Yeah?” I replied dreamily.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Mmmmmmm,” was all I could respond with.

“Good. Keep the vibroballs on full power while you’re doing your Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut pushups. Then you can turn them to medium. At least until you cum again. And I hope you enjoy pressing those huge, amazing tits of yours against the tack mat.”

“Mmmmmmm, okay,” I said as he hung up, still stunned, still shaking, and unsurprisingly, still wet, wanton, and aroused. Finally I sat up, blinked, and with a sigh, went to find my tack mat. 

It was going to be a very long, painful, orgasm-filled day.

Awesome.

. 

***



It was late Friday afternoon when I pulled my Ford F-150 pickup truck up in front of the fraternity house. It’s a large building, old and stately, painted a faded white. It sits on a road adjacent to the school, close enough for the brothers to walk to class, but far enough away that they weren’t technically part of the campus. There was a gravel lot to the side so I didn’t have to park in the street, or anywhere requiring a permit, which I appreciated. I got out with my overnight bag and marched up to the door. 

Pledge week usually gets a bit rowdy at the school and as a former student, I was certainly familiar with the process. Granted, in my freshman and sophomore years, hazing had still been a thing, so some of the “tasks” given to sorority and fraternity pledges were not so much fun as mean. But Zack’s fraternity, dedicated to all disciplines in engineering, had pretty much risen above that sort of crap. Sure, the pledges had to wear these silly sashes for the whole week, made of garish colored cloth, with these ridiculous ribbons and paper engineering symbols on them, but I thought it all kind of fun. 

The hazing came in the form of questions. Any time a fraternity member saw a pledge around campus, they would ask them engineering questions. Zack had given me a few examples the previous year. “What’s Boyle’s law?” and “Define Newton’s Third Law,” and “what’s the difference between endo and exothermic?” 

I’d have failed all three questions. No clue. 

And that was how you earned demerits. If you got a question right, the fraternity brother asking would give your sash a new button. But if you got it wrong, they’d give you a little paper dump truck to pin on your sash. The more dump trucks, the more demerits. And then, at the end of pledge week… you had to pay the price. 

Well… someone had to. 

The reality is that regardless of how you answered, you were already pretty much accepted into the fraternity. You had to apply. You had to get interviewed. Pledge week was more a tradition, than actual testing. It was an excuse to have a little fun, harass the new guys, and then, most importantly, to have a serious party at the end.

And what can I say? I like a good party. 

I rang the bell and smiled as it opened. A young man I only vaguely recognized let me, greeting me by name and giving me a very familiar hug. Did I know him? Sure. Not by name, but I was pretty sure that last time I’d spent the night at the fraternity he’d visited my room, paid the price, and had a good time. That was the price of cumming when you aren’t supposed to.

The inside of the fraternity house was an easy design. From the front door a stairwell led upward. The top floor had been converted into twelve individual small rooms, including Zack’s and the aforementioned guest room, which I had, on previous occasions, utilized. To my left was the great room, which was already packed with about twenty young men, who were talking, playing pool, eating, drinking, laughing. There was a kitchen on the backside of the house, with entrances to the foyer, as well as the great room, as well as a bunch of rooms, a large bathroom with multiple showers, and a study area.

I wasn’t dressed how you might picture, and that was per request. I mean, sure, I was wearing a short denim mini-skirt, but it wasn’t the kind that would be out of place on a college campus, worn by thousands of freshman girls eyeing the male student body with interest. In fact, I was even wearing panties under the skirt, which was definitely not something I was used to. My top a simple tee shirt, the name of the school emblazoned across my bosom. Not too tight. Not loose. Just… kind of normal. And instead of high heels, I had on a pair of rather wholesome, foam-soled flipflops. In other words, I looked like a typical co-ed, visiting to watch the finale of the hazing ritual play out. 

Zack emerged from the great room almost instantly and gave me a playful squeeze.

“Hey, Bre. You look spectacular,” he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. 

I gave him a winsome smile. “You’re not looking too bad yourself. Got a full house there. How many pledges this year?”

Zack chuckled. “Four. One electrical, two mechanical, and one fluid.”

My eyebrow went up. “Fluid?”

Zack grinned. “Hydraulics. You know? Fluid mechanics?”

I gave him a haughty look. “I know all about fluid mechanics,” I assured him, the innuendo flowing thick. Zack rolled his eyes. 

“What about Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Rule Number One?” He asked. 

I smiled. “What about it?”

He gave me an impish grin. “Are you following it?” He asked.

“What, and give you instant cause to haul me in front of everyone and spank me?” I sneered. “Of course I’m following it.”

He waited, and when I didn’t add anything, sighed. “Do I have to ask?”

I shrugged. “Do you like surprises?” 

Zack snickered and looked down at his wristwatch. 

“Well then, I guess we can start then.”

I blinked in surprise. “What? But I’m a few minutes early,” I protested. 

He nodded. “You were the last moving piece. Everyone else is here, so why not get things going early?” He patted my rump right through the skirt. “I’ve got to go stand by Marcus on the stage. Just follow and find a place to hang out.”

My eyebrow went up. “When do I…um… you know?” I asked.

Zack laughed. “Oh,” he said blandly. “You’ll know exactly when to come on up.”

With that he turned and went into the great room. From the doorway I watched as he threaded his way through the two dozen or so young men and stepped up to another graduate student I recognized. His name was Marcus. He was a big man, with broad shoulders, but not fat. Just large. He was a structural engineer and very serious. He made for a good fraternity president and he glanced over at me with a grin, then nodded at Zack. Marcus turned, stepped up onto the stage, which had a black, leather padded stool and a microphone. It wasn’t a big sound system. One speaker, off to the left. But it was sufficient. 

“Hey everyone,” Marcus said firmly. Half the room quieted down. The other half… not so much.

“Hey!” He repeated. The noise didn’t subside all that much. Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “Hey! Shut the fuck up!” He said loudly into the mic.

That did it. Conversation dwindled amongst a few snickers. I moved a little deeper into the room. No one was really looking at me, though a few of the boys in the back noticed. But I was a familiar face at the frat house. Though I suppose it wasn’t just my face that was familiar.

“Tonight we are inducting four new members into the fraternity. But before we do that, there is the longstanding tradition of dealing with the demerits our pledges have earned over the last week. Pledges, please come up front,” Marcus said.

Four young men, obviously freshmen, stood up from various places in the room. They were a mixed bunch from a racial perspective. One was Indian, and I mean like his ancestry was definitely from India. Another was African-American, while the other two were both Caucasian. Not that I care one whit. But it showed that the fraternity was more interested in what was in your head, rather than the color wrapped around it. I liked that idea. 

Marcus looked down at the four young men standing in front of the stage. “You have also applied to become members of the austere organization and over the last week, you were tested. Questions were posed. None of you answered them all correctly. For each one with an incorrect response, you received a demerit.” There was a titter of laughter around the room. Marcus grinned. “And now, gentlemen, it’s time to pay the piper.”

And with that, Zack walked up onto the stage. There was a chorus of hoots and hollers, and the shocked looks on the faces of the four young men were rather impressive. Because the paddle that Zack was holding was… um… unique. First it was aluminum. Second, it was huge, like a two by six plank. And it had holes drilled into it. I knew for a fact that having such a thing slam into your ass would sting like the dickens.

The laughter took awhile to bubble down, but when it did, the stricken looks on the pledges faces hadn’t really disappeared. Marcus smiled as Zack stood there with the paddle. “Gentlemen, I see the concern written on your faces. How could the school allow such a thing? Are you really planning on using that monstrosity on a student?” Marcus nodded. “And you’re right. University rules no longer allow us to humiliate, intimidate, or punish you in such a way. So you’re lucky. And yet… someone has to pay for your demerits.” He glanced toward me. “Fortunately for you, someone has already volunteered. Someone who isn’t a student here any longer, who is willing to offer themselves up to the fraternity to pay for your demerits!” 

And Zack was right. I did know when it was time for me to walk up there.

I threaded my way through the young men and for those seeing me for the first time that evening, I got some serious cheers. I guess I’m popular. I licked my lips nervously as I stepped onto the stage and looked at the four new pledges. They looked so young!

“Gentlemen, this is Bre. She has graciously volunteered to take the required punishments you’ve earned.” He looked at me. “Haven’t you, Bre?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.” I said quietly, but firmly. “I’m ready.” 

“Fantastic,” Marcus said. He looked at the first young man, a blond haired boy of eighteen who was staring at me in surprise. “Jim, out of all the pledges, you answered seventy-six out one hundred and twenty-seven questions correctly. Of course, that still means you received fifty-one demerits. And at five demerits per stroke, that means Breanne is going to get ten swats, right on her beautiful, bare ass.” Marcus ignored the shocked looks on all four pledges’ faces and instead turned to me. “Breanne, you know the drill. You need to get ready for a spanking!” 

The entire freaking room started cheering and I blushed crimson. A couple of years before, my other part-time mistress, a young woman named Julie, had established a very specific set of rules regarding spankings, at least when applied to nympho humiliation pain sluts. First, all spankings had to be delivered to a bare bottom. No pants, shorts, skirts, or panties. Nothing between the paddle (or whip, flogger, crop, strop, switch, or cane) and the nympho humiliation pain slut’s ass. Which meant that standing up on the stage, I reached up, unsnapped the button on the denim skirt, and wriggled out of it. 

My goodness, you’d have thought I’d stripped completely naked from the way the boys were all cheering. Except for the pledges. They were still flabbergasted. Poor Jim, who had been singled out first, was gaping as I stood there in my panties and tee shirt and flip flops. I gave him a sheepish smile and then, turning around, I drew my panties downward with a hipswinging, sexual roll, baring my butt for the entire fraternity.

I kept my thighs pressed tightly together of course, but as I turned back around, I dealt with the second rule Julie had established for getting spanked. It wasn’t just bare bottom. I had to be bare breasted as well. Why? Because she liked seeing my tits swinging with each blow. So in front of two dozen horny college boys, I reached up, grabbed the bottom of my tee shirt, and pulled. 

I wasn’t wearing a bra. 

I gave my shirt to Marcus who accepted it politely and then I turned and stepped over to the stool. I moved so that I was in profile to most of the room, and most especially the pledges, still standing in shock at the front of the stage, and bent over, putting my flat belly on the padded seat. My breasts dangled down deliciously on the far side and I gripped the stool carefully, bracing myself, and went up on tiptoe.

“Are you fucking serious?” One of the pledges suddenly asked, looking at me incredulously. 

To answer that, Zack moved up immediately beside me, positioned the aluminum paddle even with my raised ass. The entire crowd seemed to hush in expectation. 

“Breanne, do you have anything you want to say before we paddle you for Jim’s demerits?” 

I gulped and glanced at Jim, who was still staring at me with a wild look on his face. He clearly couldn’t believe what was happening. I looked nervous, probably because I was. It wasn’t being naked in front of everyone that bothered me. Okay… well… yes. It bothered me. I was embarrassed. But I like the feeling. I was nervous because I was about to get swatted with an aluminum paddle with freaking holes in it.

I nodded. “I’m probably going to scream a little. Could Jim come up here and… um… gag me?” 

Contrived? Hell yes. It’s exactly what I did last year. Suddenly the older frat brothers were chanting. At first it came out garbled, but then the words were discernable. 

Cock! Cock! Cock! Cock! Cock!

Jim stepped up onto the stage and looked at Marcus nervously. Marcus grinned. 

“The girl wants your cock in her mouth. Are you willing to risk a bite as she takes your punishment?”

Jim stood there, staring at me. But then his fingers fumbled at his zipper and suddenly his manhood was springing out in front of my face. Marcus moved him into position right in front of me and I reached up, grabbed Jim’s shaft, shifted just a bit, and then engulfed his rock hard cock with my mouth.

Did it feel good?” Oh hell yeah. For about ten seconds. Then the aluminum paddle slapped into my ass, sending a loud crack through the room. It made me gasp too, but there was no way I’d ever bite down on a guy’s dick. Sure, I might scream, but bite? Or clench my teeth like that? No way. So as the hot sting of the paddle exploded across my rump, Jim began pumping in and out of my open mouth. 

The crowd of boys loved it, cheering and jeering, encouraging Zack to give me another one. There were some other suggestions, which included fucking my pussy, my ass, whipping my tits, and even caning the bottoms of my feet. All of this was ignored by the two men I was now completely focused on. Zach and Jim. Jim was getting the blowjob of his life, while Zack… Zack was swinging the paddle for the second time. 

It hurt. Not bad, but it sure as hell stung! I whimpered, mewling into Jim’s shaft as he pumped and my pussy tightened hard around the rubber dildo in my pussy. My bottom twisted and wriggled from the heat, the sting, and I could feel the phallus inside me moving. Worse, my pussy was getting much, much wetter, responding to the combination of humiliation, sexual punishment, and having real and synthetic cock stuffing two of my holes. 

Zack nailed me again, making me rise up on tiptoe, my booty shaking, my dangling breasts swinging back and forth. My ass clenched and I caught another spank a moment later. I squealed, my mouth still wrapped around Jim’s cock and I let go of the stool with one hand and grabbed hold of the base of his shaft, bobbing my head frantically. 

Spank after spank landed and frankly, I wasn’t counting. I was sure Zack would keep to the required ten strokes and I’m pretty sure he did. My butt felt like it had been dipped in hot wax, tingling prickles rippling across my flanks. I didn’t cry though. Zack hadn’t hit me that hard. 

Zack lowered the paddle. “If you’re going to give her a load, now’s the time to do it, Jim.”

The other boys cheered and I sniffed and began really giving it to him. Jim groaned, thrusting in and out of my mouth and a minute later I felt him stiffen the way I liked. There was a shudder, or a ripple, and then his cock pulsed between my lips. I started swallowing immediately, even before the first hot squirt of jism struck the back of my throat and began sliding down to my stomach.

I sucked Jim dry and honestly, I’m pretty proud of that. I mean, I managed to get him off while being spanked, bent over a stool naked, in front of two dozen young college men. Jim sighed as he softened and pulled himself out of my mouth. I looked up at him, grinning, and he blushed crimson, then quickly tucked himself away. 

Marcus stepped up and clapped the young man on the shoulder. “Congratulations Jim, your demerits have been wiped away by Breanne and you’ve made a good showing of yourself. Welcome to the fraternity!” 

And a round of very enthusiastic applause caused the room to thunder. 

I straightened up, stretching, yet still keeping my thighs together, mostly because if I spread my legs the rubber cock in my pussy would undoubtedly fall out. I’m not sure if anyone had seen it yet. Not by the way I was standing. But maybe a few familiar with my antics had been curious as to why I was taking those short tiny steps while up on stage.

As Zack set the paddle down, Marcus went back up to the microphone. “Next up, Da’veon.” 

I looked and saw the young African-American man step up. He was grinning, clearly pleased with the situation and from the way he was looking at me, I suspected that getting his cock in my mouth was going to be a challenge. 

“Da’veon, you were asked one-hundered and thirty-two questions and got sixty-four of them correct. This leaves you with sixty-eight demerits. Do you wish Breanne to take the thirteen strokes you’ve earned.”

Da’veon glanced at me. “I do indeed.” 

Zack glanced at Marcus, who nodded. “Breanne, you’ve been asked to endure this pledge’s demerits. Do you agree?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes sir.”

“Breanne, do you have anything you want to say before we paddle your sweet little ass for Da’veon’s demerits?” 

I looked straight at Da’veon. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to…”

And he jumped onto the stage. 

Marcus, still talking into the microphone, looked at me. “Breanne, thirteen is a lot of spanks, especially as your cute little ass is already looking a bit red. Would you like to reduce the number of spanks to just ten?”

My head came up. I had been expecting this and I nodded. Marcus glanced at Zack, who held up a chain, both ends sporting clover nipple clamps. Oh, and there were weights on the chain. Three of them.

“Then Breanne, to remove three of the coming swats, you’ll need to wear these clamps, with three one pound weights.”

I turned toward Zack as the crowd of frat boys hooted and cooed and hollered. Zack pinched both pincers open and I sucked in a breath as they bit down, wincing slightly as he tugged, setting the clover clamps in place and even forcing the maws to tighten a bit. Acute discomfort, but not quite actual pain, shot up through my breasts and I moved gingerly over to the stool. Da’veon was standing in front of me and I bent over, letting the weights, chain, clamps, and my tits dangle down beneath my top. 

His cock was in my mouth before Zack even had a chance to pick up the huge paddle again. I grabbed hold of Da’veon, and began bobbing my head when the first stroke slammed into my ass.

It hurt. I won’t lie. Zack nailed me. It was like sitting on a cactus, then moving to a hot stove. Even as the pain rippled up through my ass, the Newtonian physics of the impact moved from my butt, up my spine, and then to my chest. Of course, I’m guessing fluid dynamics, or something played a major role, because both of my boobs began swinging back and forth violently, the sway only exacerbated by the two pounds of solid steel dangling from my nipples. 

And yes, that hurt too. 

I probably would have done more than mewl if my mouth hadn’t been full of sausage. My butt was burning and the twisting pull on my nipples was breathtaking, and not in the “oh wow! Look at that view!” sort of breathtaking. Agony shot through me and frankly the only blessing was the cock in my mouth. 

Zack’s second swat finally did what none of the other blows had done. Got me dancing. And as my feet began prancing in place, my thighs finally came unglued and the last little bit of pressure holding in my rubber dildo disappeared. In front of twenty something college frat boys, the naked coed on stage, her nipples clamped, her mouth full of cock, while getting spanked, dropped a nine-inch-long, flesh colored dildo onto the floor. 

There was a sudden silence, then laughter. 

“My, my, my,” Marcus said into the microphone. “What’s this? Is our sweet little Breanne a naughty little cum slut?” 

Zack picked up the dildo and held it up, somewhat triumphantly. 

Panting somewhat heavily, I focused on sucking cock. 

“Breanne, Breanne, Breanne,” Marcus chided. “Zack, do we have something that can keep Bre properly entertained while she gets her little tushy spanked?” 

Zack nodded and there were jeers and cheers. A few guys offered their cock, evidently not realizing that its sort of hard to fuck a girl who is also supposed to be getting her butt reddened with a paddle. 

Preparation however, is the key and Zack was apparently ready for this. I was bobbing my head, trying hard not to make the weights hanging from my tits swing too much, when something slid fully into my pussy, filling me up. I gasped and then the whole damn thing started to vibrate. 

Way, way better than my vibroballs from the previous day.

Instantly my sex tightened around the thing and I began wagging my ass back and forth, the waves of pleasure just seeming to pour off the toy inside me. I quivered in ecstasy, then came the hard spank, except this time, instead of just the same stinging, prickling burn followed by a slow spreading heat, the combination of vibrations and pain, both along my rump and at the tips of my poor breasts, did some very fucked up things to my brain.

It turned the arousal dial up to ten.

As the sexual pressure suddenly doubled, Zack began spanking me again. Blow after blow. I could tell he had lightened the pressure a bit, probably to spare my ass, which I appreciated, but didn’t really need. At least, not yet. What really got to me though, beside the vibrator, was the clamps swinging from my tits. The twisting of my nipples was both excruciating and incredible. My hips rolled as my body responded predictably to such stimulation. 

Da’veon exploded around the eighth spank and I wasn’t expecting it. Maybe I was distracted. I don’t know. I spluttered a bit, gagging as his spunk filled my mouth and while some dripped out, I managed to keep it between my cheeks. Zack didn’t notice Da’veon’s look of relief and followed up with another blow to my butt. My eyes bulged and I almost coughed out all the spunk I was trying to swallow. 

Talk about generating some laughter. Oh my God. 

Da’veon stepped back, his cock soft and he began to tuck it away as I finished my second fluid snack of the evening, which was then followed up with the last spank. It stung viciously and I lifted one foot, wincing with the pain of it. Then Zack set the aluminum paddle down and Marcus once more returned to the microphone.

“Congratulations Da’veon, your demerits have been wiped away by Breanne. Your record is now clear. Welcome to the fraternity!” 

The cheering from the other members was pretty impressive and I could tell that Da’veon was pretty popular. I straightened up, my nipples throbbing and I cupped my bottom. Both cheeks were still tingling, hot, and quite sensitive. But the real issue was the vibrator in my pussy. I stood there, hips twitching, this lewd little spasm of thrusting movement, as if I were trying to fuck myself. Tension rippled through me and I realized that if Marcus and Zack didn’t get a move on, I was going to have a very embarrassing moment on stage. 

I mean, more embarrassing. 

Two young men still stood in front of the stage and Marcus eyed one of them. “Pakesh, you were challenged with one hundred and forty-seven questions. You failed to answer eighty-six of them. Do you ask that Breanne accept the punishment for these demerits?”

Pakesh, the dark skinned Indian, looked at me with a grin and flashing white teeth. “I do,” he said eagerly. 

Marcus looked at me. “Breanne, at a rate of five demerits per stroke, Pakesh is asking you to take seventeen spanks.”

I nodded, gulping. Marcus grinned. “As before, we offer you the opportunity to spare your cute little ass, by taking some of the punishment elsewhere. Would you like to do this?”

“Yes sir,” I said loudly.

The reaction from the assembled boys was predictable. Shouted suggestions. Some involved my breasts. More weights. Removal of the clamps and whipping me across the chest. Breast bondage. Fucking. Spanking my pussy. A full body whipping. Allowing everyone to fuck me. That sort of thing. The problem was that Zack and Marcus already had a plan. 

“Breanne, to reduce the spank total to ten, you will need to take seven strokes of the cane across the bottoms of both of your feet,” Marcus explained.

Zack was already removing the stool and in its place he put a simple padded chair. The thing looked sturdy and it was facing the room. I stepped over to it, then knelt, my feet sticking out, heels pressed together, my reddened ass raised high and in perfect view. I’m pretty sure that everyone could see the glistening petals of my dripping slit too. I draped my clamped and weighted breasts over the back of the chair, held on, and stared at the back wall. 

I will be the first to admit that had the vibrator not been going full power in my pussy, the caning of my feet would have been torture, rather than torment. But as aroused as I was, the sharp, burning lines that Zack carved across my arches, then the balls of my feet, followed by my heels, made me quiver, twist, shake, and make some very attractive and interesting noises. The crowd counted out and my feet kicked after each strike. Zack paid way more attention to my arches and I was hissing, even as my hips continued to thrust back and forth as my body tried to work itself toward the coming climax. My nipples throbbed and burned from the fresh twisting sensation as my own movements sent the weights swinging. The last stroke of the cane was especially nasty and I let out a squeal and almost got up from the chair.

“Breanne?” Marcus said into the mic. “Is there anything you wish to ask Pakesh before we begin spanking your ass?”

I was in a state. Panting. I gulped and turned my head to glance over my shoulder. “Please? Can I suck your cock?”

The crowd cheered the young Indian man on and he climbed up on the stage, already unbuckling. He moved around to the back of the chair, which afforded him some privacy and then he offered me his prick, semi-rigid. 

I took him in my mouth immediately, bobbing my head, which of course caused the weights and nipple clamps to twist the tips of my breasts. The buzzing in my pussy just kept going and going and…

BAM. The aluminum paddle slapped against my buttocks and a fresh hot sting exploded across my rear. I blinked back a tear, my mouth gagged with cock, but even that didn’t stop me from letting out a muffled cry. Pakesh reached up and grabbed my freaking head and began pumping and I gurgled, struggling to cope with all the different sensations. Pleasure surged up from my pussy. Heat bloomed in my ass. The bottoms of my feet were aching horribly, and my nipples… dear God. Each thrust of Pakesh’s cock made the tips of my breasts twist and turn and it was sending lightning down through my body each time! 

Another spank landed and I held onto the chair for dear life. I wasn’t so much responding to each individual stroke of the paddle, as struggling to remain afloat in a river of sensation. Everything hurt. Everything felt amazing. I shuddered as more spanks fell, spanking the sweet daylights out of my ass, cheers and counting behind me as Zack worked his way backward from ten to the final spank.

I was shocked I hadn’t cum yet. 

The final stroke landed and Pakesh hadn’t cum in my mouth either. He pulled back as I knelt there, struggling with everything, my body a riot of sensation, right on the cusp of orgasm, but not quite there yet. He zipped up his fly with a grin and stepped back around me.

“Congratulations, Pakesh! Your record is wiped clear. No more demerits thanks to the willingness of this nympho humiliation pain slut to take your punishments! Welcome to the fraternity!” 

More cheering. I knelt there, knowing I was in trouble. If the vibrator in my pussy didn’t get turned down, like in the next two minutes, I was going to squirt a spray of cum all over the place.

“Ronald,” Marcus said firmly. “Our last pledge. You were asked one-hundred and sixty-seven questions. You answered fifty-two correctly.”

There was a titter of laughter and Ronald blushed with embarrassment. Marcus held up his hand. “Hey, some of you were no better!” He told the crowd. “And he is here to learn. That’s the point.” He smiled. “But that does mean that you earned one hundred and fifteen demerits.”

I blinked. One hundred and fifteen? 

“At a rate of five demerits per stroke, that comes up to twenty-three spanks. Do you wish to ask Breanne to take these for you?”

For a second, I half hoped he’d do it himself. But I heard his response clearly. “Oh hell yeah,” he said eagerly. 

“Very well,” Marcus replied. “Breanne, you’ve been asked to endure twenty-three spanks to the tush. As before, we offer you a way to reduce the number applied to your butt. Do you wish to proceed?”

I nodded. “Yes please.” It came out as a whimper. Suddenly Zack was there, a long leather paddle in his hands. He looked down at me. 

“Turn around, face the crowd and then sit down on the chair,” he said softly.

I gulped and turned around. Faces. Young men. Staring at me. I sat down, spreading my legs wide apart. I was shaking. So aroused. So desperate. Them. Me. My chest rose and fell dramatically, lifting the clamps and weights, lowering them. I pointed my toes, not wanting to put my feet flat on the stage floor. Marcus eyed me, then looked at Ronald.

“Ronald, will you and Pakesh please come up and each take one of Breanne’s legs? Lift them up.”

The two boys hurried up to the stage. I lifted my feet and my ankles were grabbed. Then they pulled, opening me up, leaving me vulnerable and exposed and my leaking pussy just right there. I felt like I was going to slide out of the seat! Then Zack put a hand on my shoulder and leaned over me.

With the paddle.

I closed my eyes. Thirteen strokes. In front of a crowd of young men. Straight to my quivering, vibrating, toy-stuffed cunt.

Yes. Oh hell yes.

The leather paddle landed with a crack and I jerked, pulling at the two young men holding my legs. I almost ripped my right foot out of Ronald’s grasp, but Pakesh held on good enough. I let out a rippling cry as the heat and pain exploded through my sex, but I’m not ashamed to admit that the sensation seemed to change into something completely different within half a second. I tightened, gasping, and felt my body spasm.

Zack didn’t give me much time to bathe in that sensation. He struck again, once more igniting a fire that scorched my petals, eliciting a sharp scream, which again was doused by pure arousal. And it wasn’t even a pleasure. I’m pretty sure I was no longer categorizing things into agony and ecstasy columns. I was just drawing a big fucking X on the paper. My feet kicked and Pakesh and Ronald struggled to hold me. Another blow landed between my legs. I cried out, putting a hand in my mouth, gnawing on a knuckle, my vision blurring.

I think I made it through eleven strokes of the paddle before I overloaded. My pussy was on fire, any semblance of control incinerated by the blistering heat of Zack’s paddle smacking hard into my clit and labia. That scalding sting morphed into a wash of combusting heat, which surged into me, only to hammer against the powerful and incessant palpitations of the vibrating egg in my pussy. But instead of cancelling each other out, they combined, the pain super-charging the pleasure, creating a cascading effect that shot up my spine. It took a short detour before going to my already mis-firing brain, slipping out to the crushed and throbbing breasts, struggling to push through to my nipples. I think I might have grabbed the chain and was pulling on it too. Accidentally of course, as I screamed. Then the powerful sensation finally got to my brainstem and the short-circuiting of my synapses was complete. I began to orgasm.

First came a tightening. And I mean tighten. My pussy clenched down on the vibrating toy as if I were trying to crush it. My legs kicked out wide, thighs straining, not to pull away from Pakesh and Ronald, but with involuntary tension. My toes curled, the beaten arches of my feet crinkling as I threw my head back, spine arching, almost throwing myself out of the chair. Thank God the boys were holding me in! Then the sexual pressure, which had been building since I had gotten there, seemed to swell again. Raw and hungry, it devoured the pain, the pleasure, sucking it up and then morphing it into a biomechanical response. My fight or flight response was triggered, dumping adrenaline into my bloodstream. Except I wasn’t in a situation for either of those options. Instead, the pressure released in my loins, a burst of fluids that exploded out of me in a fountain of girl goo, striking Zack’s floppy leather paddle, splattering the stage, and making a mess. But even before the adrenaline rush started to subside, my hormones surged and a flood of dopamine and endorphins, the body’s natural pleasure chemicals, seemed to fill every nook and cranny of my petite frame. In seconds, the euphoria that comes from the natural oxytocin produced by the body during orgasm left me senseless, numbing everything. Then the adrenaline rush, which only lasted six or seven seconds, began to fade and I slumped, gasping with a groan, head listing to the side, my eyes rolling up.

I was more than a little out of it for the cheering and hooting of the boys, but according to Zack, my orgasm was the highlight of the evening. The fact that I exploded while getting pussy whipped, sort of made the whole thing understandable. I was given a minute or two to recover my wits, though at no point did anyone turn down the vibrator, take off the clamps pinching my nipples, or even allow Pakesh and Ronald to let my feet go. I sat there, catching my breath, my pussy leaking onto the padded seat of the chair, quivering as the crowd of boys in front of me continued to talk, cheer, and make some rather explicit comments. 

Finally Zack leaned down by my ear. “Are you ready to continue?” He asked.

Still a little dazed, I looked up at him. “Uh… how many do I still have to take?” I asked dumbly.

“Four to the pussy. Ten to your ass.”

I closed my eyes and gulped. “That’s… that’s a lot.”

He nodded, grinning. “Sure is. But you can handle it. You’re a nympho humiliation pain slut.”

I nodded. “Ummm… Can someone hold my arms too?”

Zack blinked, but then smiled. “Marcus,” he said. It took Zack only a second to explain.

Marcus went back to the mic. “Da’veon, Jim, please come back up to the stage and take Breanne’s arms as she finishes up the last few strokes to her pussy.”

The two boys practically leapt onto the stage and grabbed hold of my wrists, pulling me outward. I was spread-eagled now, pussy still quivering from the vibrator, my nipples throbbing, ass hot and sore and Zack lifted the leather paddle, aiming for my sex. It came down, maybe not as hard as before, but strong enough to make an impressive sound as it impacted. Sort of like slapping wet mud. 

I cried out, jerking, but not bad. I must have made a face too, because there was some laughter. Then Zack hit me again, same spot. It hurt, but I dealt with it and the next two blows with sufficient control that no one lost their grip on me. 

Zack looked at the pledges. “You can let her go now, guys.” He eyed Ronald. “But you should stay here on stage.” Ronald nodded.

I slowly stood up, my pussy brimming with sensation, a little sore, and already feeling the twinges of fresh arousal. I’m like that. Whack me, get me going, let me cum, and then give me another few swats and I’m totally ready for another turn. Zack nodded as the crowd cheered and I twisted around, kneeling once more on the chair, my bare feet, now sporting several impressive red lines across the arches, sticking out below my reddened rump.

I looked at Ronald. “Gag me please?” I asked with a sheepish smile. Ronald nodded, pulled out his cock even as Zack retrieved the paddle. Next thing I knew I had cock in my mouth, vibrating sex toy in my pussy, clamps biting at my nipples, and a huge aluminium paddle smacking into my ass. 

They counted down now, knowing that the show, at least this part of it, was almost over. I winched with each spank but maintained my demeanor. I just wasn’t close to cumming. Even the buzzing of my pussy only muted the pain. It didn’t really diminish it. At least Ronald exploded in my mouth, right before the last spank was delivered. I swallowed dutifully, then braced myself. The last whack came and I cried out dramatically, kicking my feet, wanting to put on a show.

“Ronald! Congratulations! You are now an official member of the fraternity, thanks to Breanne taking your punishments! Welcome!”

It took a moment for the cheers to die down. 

“Gentlemen, we have four new brothers tonight and I urge you to take some time to make them feel welcomed. There is, however, one more housekeeping issue that must be addressed.” Marcus turned and glanced at where I was still kneeling, nursing my blotchy red butt. “Breanne, can you come up here?”

I looked up, then slowly dismounted the chair. Zack stood right by me, waiting to help if I needed it, but the ache in my feet wasn’t enough to disable me. I hobbled over and stood there by Marcus, my arms crossed over my belly, making sure not to hide my still throbbing, clamped and weighted breasts. 

Okay. I cheated. A little. My arms were lightly carrying the weights. Sue me. 

“Breanne, I want to thank you for volunteering your tits, pussy, and ass to help these young men achieve their goal. It was very generous of you.”

I gulped and nodded. The vibrator in my pussy was still going and I was starting to twitch again.

“But I have to ask, there was one directive you were given before this whole thing started. Wasn’t there?”

I licked my lips and nodded. “Yes sir,” I said, loudly enough for the microphone to pick up.

“And what was that directive?”

I closed my eyes. “Don’t cum.”

“Don’t cum. That’s what you said, right? That’s what you were told?” 

I nodded.

Marcus grinned. “Zack? Is Breanne’s punishment ready to go?” 

Zack nodded from behind me.

Marcus plucked a bowl full of plastic tiles off the nearby table and held it up. “Gentlemen, I’m about to pass around the number tiles. Pick one if you are interested in helping with Breanne’s punishment.”

“Let’s go, Breanne.” Zack pushed me a little. I stepped down off the stage and headed toward the door. I didn’t need my shorts, or my shirt, or my panties. I knew that. The boys parted, letting me through, and I did the walk of shame back to the hall. Instead of going right to the front door, I turned left, heading for the stairs. I climbed them with Zack right behind me. In the meeting room, I heard the rush, the shouts, someone cheering a number pick. I glanced back and already there was a line of young faces, looking up at me in excitement. The only reason they weren’t already climbing the stairs is because I knew it was officer country. 

Zack glanced back and turned. “Give me a few minutes to get her ready. I’ll call down when number one can start up.” 

We got to the upper landing. “Same room?” I asked.

Zack laughed. “Of course. It’s the guest room.”

I walked down the hall. It was opposite the bathrooms. Someone had hung a sign on the front that said “Breanne’s Bower.” I rolled my eyes and opened the door.

The room was painted white. There was a full sized bed, already turned down, and a nightstand. A bureau stood against the far wall. A few motivational posters hung on the walls. But most importantly, two sets of leather bondage cuffs lay on the bed, waiting. Zack marched me over and I sat down gingerly.

“Need me to rub anything into your ass?” He asked, picking up the first set and kneeling down.

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s not that bad,” I said.

“Yet,” he replied.

I shrugged. “Fair enough.” 

He buckled on the first cuff, then the other one, and now both legs sported the black leather manacles. I held out my wrists.

“All of them?”

Zack shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.”

“What about you?” I asked as he finished buckling the cuffs around my wrists. Zack looked up. 

“Is that what you want?” 

I grinned. “Is that what you want?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Let’s see what condition you are in tomorrow,” he said with a chuckle. “Then we can talk about my needs.” He looked down at my wrists and then clipped the steel hardware together. I might have been able to get loose with some twisting, but he pushed me back into the soft mattress and lifted my hands above my head. 

The steel ring had been mounted on the headboard a year or two before so I was familiar with it. He clipped the cuffs to it and suddenly I was helpless. No amount of twisting or wriggling would allow me to free myself. Zack gave me a kiss, then reached down and removed both of the clover clamps on my breasts.

I cried out, wincing. Blood rushed back into my nipples and Zack at least was nice enough to rub my breasts for me. I whimpered and he opened the nightstand drawer, setting the weights inside. The clamps and chain though, he left on the stand’s top. Then he drew out a leather paddle, small enough to just barely cover my pussy. Then a small leather flogger. My eyes widened as he set a bottle of grapeseed oil next to it. He stood up, went to the bureau and opened it. A large glass jar, filled with wooden clothespins came out. This he also set on the nightstand. Lastly, he produced a plastic sign, a piece of paper embedded inside the stand. 

“Fuck Breanne,” I read aloud. “Cost to fuck: Pussy - 10 spanks to clit. Ass - 10 spanks to bottom. Mouth - 10 spanks to each tit.”

I looked at him. “Each tit! That’s twenty spanks!” 

He set a box of condoms on the bureau top and then hung two short bungee cords on the footboard. I knew those could be used to stretch me out, legs drawn to the far corners. Or, possibly, to fold me in half and secure my ankles around my ears. Zack smiled at me.

“That’s right. But don’t worry. I think most of the guys are going to want to fuck one of your other holes.”

I bit my lip. There were about two dozen guys downstairs. At ten strokes a fuck, I was going to get… two hundred and forty spanks! 

“Each guy gets twenty minutes to buy their fuck, then screw your brains out. Which means you are in for a very busy night,” Zack said, looking down at me. “I’ll come and give you a break about four hours in, or just ask, though I have to warn you that extra breaks come at a cost.”

“More spanks?” I whispered, my hips bucking from the vibrator still in me. I didn’t want to admit how turned on I was. Eight hours of non-stop torment and sex? With a bunch of horny college-aged guys? I closed my eyes and gulped. 

Zack smiled. “See you in a little bit, Bre.”

“Hey,” I blurted out from where I was bound on the bed. He looked back. 

“Yeah?”

“What happens if I cum?” I asked, almost laughing.

Zack shook his head. He walked back over to the sign and pulled a pen out of his pocket. He slipped the paper out, wrote on it, then stuck it back in and set it on the nightstand. 

“There,” he said, heading for the door. 

I stretched but couldn’t see the sign anymore. “Zack? Zack? What did you write? What does it say?” But then he walked out and the door shut. I twisted on the bed, the vibrator tormenting me. The seconds ticked by. Almost half a minute and then the door opened and one of the young men walked in. I didn’t know his name. He grinned and walked over to me. 

“Hi Bre,” he said softly, reaching up, caressing my right breast, touching the nipple. I sucked in a breath.

“Hi,” I whispered back. “Are you here to punish me?”

He nodded. “And to fuck you.” His eyes went to the sign. “I guess you’re going to have to spread your legs,” he said, picking up the flogger. 

I nodded and spread my legs. He moved down toward the edge of the bed, his eyes focused. 

“Wait!” I blurted out. He looked up, just a little confused.

“The sign,” I said. “What does the bottom say? About me cumming?”

The young man’s eyebrow went up. “It says that if we can make you cum at least a dozen times, you’ll stay the entire weekend.”

My mouth dropped. “What?” 

He grinned. “So let’s get started.” 

And the flogger came down…

… in exactly the perfect spot.