It is Wednesday evening in November, about 6.15pm. Helen is walking back from the bus stop to her small flat on the outskirts of Bristol. She is a slim, (but not skinny) attractive 34 year old, well dressed as she is just returning from work in the centre of the city, where she is head of IT for a firm of accountants (the rest of the IT department consists of one spotty youth, Steve, who is just about capable of cleaning a mouse). She is tense with anticipation, as this is the first evening she has had at home alone since her period finished on Friday. At the weekend she visited her parents, Monday evening was taken up with meeting a software supplier, and yesterday was her technology evening class – so useful for making some of the little items she uses in her other pursuit. Consequently she has only had time for the occasional short masturbation session.
She opens the flat door, remembering that the family upstairs are away for the week, and Mrs Oakley on the ground floor is very deaf, so it does not matter how much noise she makes. Entering her neat flat she draws the curtains – its so handy at this time of year, as no one comments on the closing of curtains at 6pm – turns on the lights, and turns the heating up. Going to the bathroom she removes her clothes, hanging her grey jacket and skirt up neatly on the hanger previously placed there, putting her bra and tights in the laundry basket, removing her knickers and sucking the crotch.
"I've been dribbling all afternoon", she thinks "I hope that Mr. Dunstall didn't notice how much difficulty I was having concentrating on his discussion about the new software this afternoon!"
After consuming all the tasty juices, and running a finger between her legs for seconds, she inspected her body in the full length mirror. Without clothes she is still attractive, although the very critical might suggest that her nose was a little large, and her breasts were possibly a little small. She inspects her breasts closely. There are some faint parallel lines on them, where the skin is whiter than the rest.
"Just as well no one else is going to see these for awhile", she muses " Though a session in the tanning booth would quickly get rid of these marks."
Walking back naked to the kitchenette she makes a cup of instant coffee – black, no sugar. Picking up the mug she dips her right nipple into the hot water. A frisson of pain makes her moan quietly, and her nipples swell. She repeats the action with the left nipple. The pain reminds her of the last boyfriend James. Sex with men had always been rather unfulfilling. If she was lucky, one orgasm, then finish. Then James had started to bite her nipples hard, giving her huge orgasms. This set her off onto a journey of self exploration, resulting in the dismissal of James some 6 weeks later and the last 3 years of wonderful self satisfaction.
She sits and drinks her coffee. She finds it so liberating being naked, and wonders if the people she works with realise that she doesn't wear knickers all through the summer. If Steve knew he would probably disappear to the toilet for the rest of the day!
Her body aches to get on with her evenings entertainment, but first she must eat. She considers a stir fry, as she loves the sensation when the hot fat spits on her naked flesh, or maybe a chilli, as the chilli sauce can be rubbed in all sorts of entertaining places, but eventually decides on a simple cheese salad on the grounds of expediency.
Having eaten she adjourns to the bedroom. This again is very neat, containing a dressing table, single bad, and an exercise bicycle. She spreads a large towel on the pretty quilt cover. Opening one of the dressing table drawers she selects 3 small serrated clamps and two leather straps. One clamp is placed on her right nipple – sharp intake of breath, and the second on her left. It feels as though the ends of her tits are on fire. The leather straps are placed around her legs, just above each knee, and tightened securely, but not so as to restrict the circulation. She mounts the bicycle. A short length of elastic hangs from each nipple clamp. She hooks these to rings on the respective straps on her legs. Her nipples and breasts are now distended towards her knees. Setting a timer on the bicycle to 5 minutes she pedals as hard as she can. Her nipples are stretched at every rotation of the cranks. The clamps are specially designed so the harder the elastic pulls, the more firmly the serrations grip the nipples. When the timer sounds, she stops pedalling, and releases the clamps, moaning as the blood flow returns. The saddle is saturated in her juices, which she licks off, before sucking each nipple in turn.
After a brief respite she selects the third clamp, which has a small egg shaped weight attached to it, again with elastic. She stands in front of the mirror, and with her left hand works her clit down until the hard lump of her pleasure parts is between her fingers. With her right hand she attaches the clamp, struggling to muffle a scream when it bites. She thrusts and gyrates her hips while watching the weight pull on her clit, then bends down and pulls a length of wood from under the bed. It is long enough for her to stand on with both feet, and between them is a curved fork of springy metal. She crouches down, feet on the plank, and puts the egg shaped weight into the fork. By slowly standing up she stretches the elastic, and her sensitive parts. When she is almost standing the metal fork springs sufficiently to release the weight, which flies up and hits her crotch, causing a shriek of pain. She repeats this exercise twenty times by which time her whole body is trembling. Releasing the clamp produces another surge of pain. Lying on the bed she appreciates the throbbing in her clit and tits for 5 minutes.
Now she has regained her composure she can prepare the bicycle for the next phase. She raises the saddle so that her legs will be fully extended at the bottom of the pedal stroke, and inclines the saddle down at the front, so every revolution of the crank will cause her body to slide up and down the saddle. She then fixes a saddle cover made from plastic pot scouring squares, and sets the load applied by the machine close to the maximum she can manage. Setting her timer to 10 minutes she climbs into the saddle and pedals as hard as she can. The pot scourer abrades her clit and vagina at every pedal stroke. After two or three minutes she is sweating and moaning. The pain draws her closer to orgasm, but conversely seems to prevent it. When the timer finally sounds she is almost unable to climb from the saddle. Lying on the bed she reaches for a scent spray and sprays between her legs. A momentary cooling then searing burning pain. The spray contains alcohol. She finally achieves the first orgasmic release of the evening, shuddering and writhing on the bed.
It takes about 15 minutes for the burning and throbbing to subside. She returns to the bicycle and sucks the saddle cover, enjoying the fruits of her labours, and then takes a tube of toothpaste from the dressing table drawer, and squeezes about half its contents onto the saddle cover. Setting the timer for another 10 minutes she remounts and pedals hard. This time the pain is an icy burning feeling, as the toothpaste acts on her already abraded crotch area. After a few minutes she is trembling and sweating again. This time the stimulation drives her to climax before the time is up, but she forces herself to keep pedalling while her body is wracked with orgasm after orgasm. When the timer sounds she collapses onto the handlebars, shivering. When she is able to move she hobbles to the kitchen and makes another coffee, repeating the nipple dunking. As she drinks the coffee (standing up), she thinks,
"I won't be able to wear knickers or trousers tomorrow – guess it'll have to be the grey skirt again!"
After a brief respite she returns to the bedroom, selects another serrated clamp from the dressing table, this time with a length of electrical cable attached, and an egg shaped metal object, with a similar cable and leather strap attached. The cover is removed from the bicycle saddle, and the saddle itself wiped – because as she says to herself;
"I don't enjoy the taste of salty toothpaste that much!"
The saddle is reset to its original position, and the pedal load wound off.
