If You Want Something Done Right

Not that her punishment was really completely over, since she didn't have any underwear to put on in place of what she'd worn that morning. She carefully wrapped the butt plug in toilet paper and put it in her purse along with the bra and thong. She smoothed the skirt down over her thigh-highs, and quickly pulled the blouse over her bare breasts. While the feeling of the silk on her breasts was nowhere near as agonizing as the burlap had been, it was still surprising irritating to her sensitive flesh. She grimaced once she stepped out of the stall and checked herself in the mirror. This was going to be tougher than she had thought. Between the torture to her tits all morning and the stimulation from her breasts swaying against the silk, her nipples looked absolutely huge, and were poking the silk out dramatically. The blouse fit fairly tight, and with the jiggle and pronounced bumps, no one would have any doubts that she had removed her bra. She instinctively crossed her arms to hide her exposure, but flinched instantly from the bolt of pain wherever her forearms pressed the silk into her breasts. She had planned this too well, and there was going to be no way to cover this up.

She cursed herself as she walked back to the office, her large breasts swaying and jiggling without the support of a bra, her nipples standing out for everyone to see. Fran was back at her desk, but she didn't give Erin a second look as she took her seat. She was grateful that Fran hadn't noticed anything amiss, but it was almost a sure thing that somebody would. She just prayed that no one actually said anything, since she would definitely die of embarrassment. She had always been very nervous about exposing her body, and while she knew that her breasts were her best asset and did occasionally wear things to accentuate them slightly, she absolutely never went braless and she was very conscious about not flaunting them. It probably all stemmed from her early teen years, when she had been singled out by other girls for being so busty. In the end she had grown up to be very modest, and very reluctant to dress in any way that might be showy or sexy.

In spite of her modesty in dress, she knew that some of her favorite things she had read about online were stories involving forced nudity or forced exhibitionism. Something about the idea of being forced to publicly expose herself made her quiver inside. She knew she would absolutely hate that exposure and find it incalculably humiliating. The thought of people seeing her, appraising her body, the embarrassment would be intense beyond measure. So of course that meant that when she was in one of her moods where she felt like she needed to punish herself a bit more severely, a little bit of public exposure was often included to accentuate the punishment. This was one area where the fact that her tormentor was imaginary curtailed her options. While she could endure, and had endured, quite a bit of self-inflicted pain, she could never bring herself to do real public exposure. The most she had ever done was to go out without underwear a couple times, in clothes where no one could actually tell anyway. Doing it today at a work in a blouse that did so little to hide her erect nipples was far more than she had ever tried before, and she had a feeling that she would never be able to make herself do more. Just the thought of how the women coming for their doctors' visits would look at her as they checked into the office made her want to disappear into a hole in the ground.

She ate her lunch at her desk, and spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to attract attention to her breasts. She faced the waiting room as much as possible, and tried to keep her arms across her boobs when she was getting files or walking around the office for other reasons. That meant many of the women checking in for appointments could see that she wasn't wearing a bra, but at least Janice never noticed. Erin liked Janice well enough, but she was in her 50s, quite conservative, and candidly Erin found her awfully intimidating. In some ways that added to the humiliation of the situation, but Erin felt she would go almost any length to keep Janice from noticing anything amiss.

Late in the day, Scott came out and sat on the edge of a counter next to Erin's desk to chat with her. Erin almost freaked out, as not only did she have no way to hide, but Scott would have a commanding view down her blouse. Her blouse wasn't unbuttoned or anything, but she knew that from where he sat that he was probably seeing more than she would ever be comfortable with. They chatted for a while, and she felt herself blushing a deeper and deeper shade of red as Scott's eyes would drop every so often to take in the occasional glimpse of her nipples poking out the silk blouse. His face didn't betray anything about what he thought of Erin's display, and he obviously didn't dare say a word, but there could be no doubt that he noticed.

Erin really liked Scott, and he was the best boss she had ever had. The longer they had worked together, they more they had become good friends. They were both part of a group that would sometimes grab drinks after work, or occasionally go for a bike ride, or a hike in the hills above Boulder. She would watch his cat when he had to leave town, and he would water her plants when she needed. He was only a few years older than her, and although they had chosen different career paths, they were compatible in many ways and always had lots to talk about when they were together. Erin thought Scott was mildly attractive, but she felt he was way too gentle and sensitive, almost to the point of wimpiness. Scott had never done anything to hit on her, or show any real attraction to her. Okay, he did occasionally check out her tits, but all men did that. Men were just weak that way. While she knew he had dated various women off and on, nothing ever seemed to last. Erin's opinion was that while a young, successful, OB/GYN who was a partner in a small three doc practice would generally be viewed as a hot catch, it seemed like the kind of women who chased a guy like that probably scared the crap out of a nice guy like Scott.

At that moment though, as much as she liked Scott, she really wished he would go the hell away. She couldn't stop herself from fidgeting in her seat, which only irritated her sore pussy and anus even worse, and probably made her nipples stand out that much more. They were so hard and sensitive she desperately wanted to pinch them. But Erin kept herself mostly under control, and finally, with one last eye bounce down to Erin's prominent nipples, Scott excused himself and went to take care of another patient.

Thankfully, the day wound down pretty quickly after that and finally Erin was walking out to her car. Her nipples throbbed with pain from her tits swaying against the silk fabric as she walked. The pain she had experienced in her sex and her rectum had now receded to a dull ache, but it was still noticeable. Once in the car she pulled up the hem of her skirt to just below the bottom of her stocking tops. That way as she drove she could reach under the skirt and tweak her clit as she drove. She was careful not to do it when any cars were near her, but it kept her on edge all the way home.

Once she was finally in her apartment, she could do the last steps before she knew she would allow herself some release. She ran into her bedroom and all but ripped off her clothing. Nude but for her stockings, she lay on her bed and splayed her knees wide. She grabbed her left nipple, pinching and pulling the injured nub painfully. She imagined her Master using the nipple to hold her in place.

"You've done well today," the he would say to her, "but you are not quite done yet. You know what comes next, right?"

"Yes," Erin moaned out loud.

"I think you need 20 hard smacks," he said in her head. "Be sure to thank me after every one."

"Yes Master," Erin said out loud. She raised her hand.

SMACK!

"Oh FUCK!" Erin hissed

Her legs clamped together after she slapped her open palm down on her abused crotch. All of the nettles and the burlap had made her more sensitive than she expected, and the pain was surprisingly intense. But she knew she wouldn't let herself cum if she didn't accept the last of the punishment.

"One. Thank you Master."

SMACK

"Two... Thank you Master"

After the first spank, it was difficult to hit herself very hard. As much and she meant to, her body would not obey. But she persevered, spanking her pussy, and thanking her faceless Top for every hit. By the time she got to 15 her clit and pussy lips started to go numb. She knew that was bad, that it would make it very hard to cum afterwards, but she kept on going, focusing her mind to try to slap her cunt as hard as she could. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she relentlessly finished her punishment.

"Aaaahhh... twen.... twenty... tha...thank you Mast... Master."

Erin wailed out loud, rolled on her side, and clenched her thighs together, trapping her hand against her abused vagina. She sobbed uncontrollably, tears running down her face onto her bed. She had no idea how long she lay there, crying her heart out, washing everything she had done wrong away, experiencing the cathartic cleansing she so desperately needed. Slowly the numbness faded from her clit, bringing new waves of agony, and causing her to clench her hand tightly on her pubic mound. Slowly, as the pain receded, she began to massage her crotch, squeezing and releasing her hand. This motion drifted into rubbing her tender clit, and then rolling onto her stomach, her crotch pushing down on her hand. Her left hand grabbed a nipple and pulled it harshly, twisting and crushing it as she humped her hand. Her sobs transitioned into moans of pleasure as she masturbated furiously. Her middle finger slipped inside and her thumb bumped her clit as her hip ground down on her hand, giving her that glorious weight and pressure on her crotch. She tried to keep her movements small and slow, to stretch out her build up to orgasm, but within minutes she couldn't stand it, and she masturbated for all she was worth.

A loud moan, almost a wail, poured out from her as she sailed over the edge. Her whole body buzzed and pulsed, bouncing violently on the bed. As the orgasm began to fade, she continued to rub and finger-fuck herself, and she was quickly back close to orgasm's door again. She held herself on the edge longer this time, savoring the tension between pleasure and pain before cascading again over into another orgasm, this one slower and more rolling, but deeply satisfying. She wanted to keep going to have a third, but all the abuse to her clit and pussy from the day was catching up with her, and the pain of rubbing it was overwhelming any pleasure now that she had a couple orgasms under her belt. She flopped over on her back, laid spread eagle, gasping as she tried to recover from her day.

Once she felt confident that she could walk without falling over, she went to her bathroom and started the water to draw a bath. She looked at her naked body in the mirror, and a slight smile formed on her lips. She'd really done a number on herself. Her breasts were no longer bright red, but had spots of mottled purple from the nettles or the burlap. Her nipples were swollen and looked much darker than normal. The front of her crotch was also mottled with deep purple marks, and her pussy lips were engorged and tender. Her asshole still burned from being stuffed all morning and the chili oil that was still there. She would be feeling the effects of this punishment for days to come. The thought made her smile as she lit some candles, turned off the lights, and started some soft music playing. That's the point of a punishment, she thought to herself as she poured the bath salts into her tub, and then tenderly slipped her aching body into the hot water.

You're supposed to remember them.

*

Erin sat in her home office working through the plans one more time in her head. She checked and rechecked all the elements of her plan, making sure she had accounted for every possibility and that all of her back-up plans had back-up plans. Her safety, possibly even her life, and at the very least her reputation, depended on her thinking of everything. So she ran through it all one more time.

It had been five weeks since her day of nettles and chilli oil, and things had been going well. She had been efficient, hard-working, made sure she was kind to others, and had done all the things that good girls do after they have gotten in trouble and want to get on the right path again. But in the last week things had begun to slip a bit. Mostly she just found herself getting frustrated more easily, and then getting irrationally angry. It had all boiled over last night, when she was picking up her dry cleaning, and she discovered that her favorite blouse had been ruined. She knew it wasn't the girl behind the counter's fault, but Erin had completely lost it. She yelled at the young woman, telling her about how it was her favorite, how expensive it was, how she was going to make the girl pay for ruining it. Then, suddenly, in mid-tirade, Erin looked at the girl's face, and realized that she was starting to cry. All of Erin's anger evaporated in an instant. What was she doing? She worked as a receptionist, for Christ's sake, she knew exactly how it felt to be yelled at by patients, to be blamed for things that were out of her control. Nothing made her madder than to have to sit and take some patient's bitching because one of the doctors took longer with some other patient when there was nothing Erin could do about it. Now here she was doing the same thing, yelling at the girl who worked the register for something that clearly had happened in the cleaning process. Erin felt deeply ashamed by her behavior. She had quickly paid the bill, mumbling an apology to the girl, and ran out the door without saying another word. She still wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to show her face in there again.

What she did know for sure, was that her behavior was not acceptable, and she needed to be punished. So she began to assemble the instruments of her punishment. The assortment of clamps, ropes, weights, other tools she would need were laid out on the desk. She looked at the clock. It was just before 1 PM, and Scott wasn't supposed to come over until 5:00PM. Based on all her planning, this should be just about right. She took a deep breath.

Time to get started.

She quickly stripped out of all her clothes except for her thigh-high stockings. She had always thought the nothing-but-stockings look was sexier than being totally nude. Besides it gave her something to clamp her pussy lips to. She grabbed one of her homemade straps, really two document clamps with a rubber band running from one to the other, and clamped one to her pussy lip. The bite of the clamp made her suck in her breath suddenly, but she persevered, using the rubberband to stretch her inner labia down to her stocking top, clipping it in place. She repeated this on her other side, so her pussy lips were splayed and stretched lewdly.

She picked up a wooden cooking spoon in her right hand, and put her left hand on her head. She took a few deep breaths, and...

SPLAT!

"Fuck!" She cursed.

A soon as she struck her left nipple square on with the spoon it was enveloped in pain as if it were on fire.

"Only nineteen more smacks to go, " she thought to herself with dismay. "On this nipple."

She wondered if she were crazy for setting herself up for this. She laughed to think that of course she was crazy, but that didn't matter now. Slowly and methodically she continued the abuse of her nipple. Some blows hit her nipple square on, some more of glancing blows, but by 20 it was in excruciating agony, and it had transformed from its normal pretty pink color to a deep and angry red. She had to wait several minutes, controlling her breathing before she could move on to her other breast. A few minutes of spanking and her right nipple was just as red and in just as much anguish as her left.

Taking a few minute to let her breasts recover, she climbed a stepstool and used carabineer to attach pulleys to the two eye-hooks she had long ago mounted on the ceiling of her office. Normally she kept plants hanging from them to avoid anyone asking questions. But they were carefully screwed into joists, and either of them was more than capable of supporting her total weight, which made them perfect for her purposes. She threaded a rope through the first pulley, leading it down through a hole she had drilled in one end of a 4 foot long, 2 inch diameter wooden dowel she had bought at the hardware store. Working as quickly as she could she pulled the line through a hole at the other end of the dowel and then tied the rope with a bowline knot about 6 feet away from the dowel. This made the wooden rod look like a swing, with the rope coming up from each end of the dowel and meeting far enough above the dowel that if she sat in the middle the rope would not bump her head.

Erin took another length of rope and carefully tied it to the ponytail she had meticulously braided earlier. She had never tried hair bondage before, and she was a bit nervous, but she was fairly confident that she had thought of everything. She tested untying the first few knots, just to be sure she could get out when she wanted to. It would be pretty embarrassing if she had to hack her hair off to escape. Once she had the rope knotted all along her ponytail, she walked to her freezer, reveling in the sensations of the clamps and rubber bands on her pussy lips. She grabbed a small yogurt container that she had filled with water and then frozen. The container had a string coming out of the ice. Going back to her office, Erin used a piece of double-sided tape to secure the container to the top side of the dowel and tied the string to the dowel as well. Using some electrical tape she taped her cordless phone next to the ice container, checking to make sure its battery was fully charged. Next to the phone she used a cable tie to secure the chain on a pair of handcuffs.

Now she was ready for the final parts of her set up. She grabbed a pair of nipple clamps she had found online, and carefully attached them to her sore nipples. She had read a bunch of reviews and had picked this type because people talked about the intensity of the pinch and how they held on tight. Ratcheting them down hurt her enough to elicit a high pitched moan of despair from the back of her throat. She knew from experience that even though these clamps hurt like hell (especially after punishing her nipples as she had with the spoon) that she could wear them for several hours with nothing worse some bruises on her nipples. That wouldn't make the next few hours any less excruciating though.

She picked up a thin cord, ran it through the loops on the two clamps on her nipples and tied it in a lasso. A sharp tug on the cord made her eyes blur with the pain, but the clamps held tight. No risk of them coming off before the punishment ended. Next, she carefully got back up on the stepstool. She shivered a little bit at how exposed she felt standing up high on the stool with nothing on but her stockings and the clamps on her tits. She worked the line from her pony-tail through the second pulley. Once she was back on the ground she used a cable-tie to secure one of her ankles to a three foot long dowel, stepped over the dowel she had turned into a swing, and then secured her other ankle to what was now a spreader bar holding her ankles three feet apart. She pulled the rope attached to the swing, pulling the rod up between her legs until it was pressed firmly against her pussy. She had wrapped part of the dowel with cling wrap, so the bar felt slick and smooth against her sex.