Her Quest

Stepping from the bathroom back into the bedroom, she finished drying herself following the shower. The winter wind howled through Pittsburgh, rattling the bedroom window. Being on the fourth floor of the apartment building, the wind seemed even stronger to her ears than when she walked down the street. But, she could not dwell on that, for she needed to prepare.

Her clothing was already laid out on the bed. In short order, she had donned her trademark skimpy black thong and her favorite lacy black bra, although she did allow herself a few brief moments to fondle herself, continuing the illicit act begun during her shower.

Next, she went to the dresser and opened the second drawer from the bottom, where she liked to keep many of her favorite "supplies." After a few moments of deep contemplation, she picked out a thin black leather collar with a small D-ring at its front. Securing the thin item around her dainty neck, she felt herself moisten even more, her body reacting to the memories of the first time she was collared by her college roommate.

She quickly located a pair of nipple clamps, each pain-inducing item with a specially-measured length of chain attached. Smiling, she hefted each clover-style clamp in a hand, and felt both glee and nervousness flash throughout her being. These very same clamps were a graduation gift from her college roommate on their final night together before they graduated and parted ways to different sides of the country. How she missed the very goth Mistress Mystica and Her many devious, delicious torments suffered late into many a night.

After deftly lifting each breast from her bra, she attached the clamps, groaning loudly at the instant pain and blinking back tears as she administered her own torment. Only then did she clip the opposite end of each chain to the small D-ring of her collar; with the chain purposely a little too short, this act forced her nipples to be pulled upward, increasing the pain. Yet she did not relent, instead pulling up the cups of her bra and settling each breast gingerly back into as comfortable a position as possible.

Looking back into the drawer of "supplies," she found a package of hand warmers and two specially-cut pieces of sandpaper. Working quickly before she had the opportunity to change her mind, she slid a piece of sandpaper into each cup of her bra, the abrasive material grating at her shower-softened feminine flesh and seemingly igniting her overly-sensitive nipples. This time, she could not simply blink away her tears, yet she felt her nervousness melt away once the sandpaper was in place and her body began to internalize the sensations. The hand warmers were next; once the package was unsealed, the room-temperature air was enough of an activating agent for her to feel the heat within begin to generate slowly, and she slipped a hand warmer between the sandpaper and the material of her feminine garment.

At last, she returned to the bed to put on the rest of her clothing for the evening: black-and-red tights, a knee-length black skirt with red trim and a zipper at her right side, and a thick black turtleneck shirt to cover her collar. By the time she had finished, she definitely felt the heat of the hand warmers through the sandpaper, and that seemed to ignite her hypersensitive nipples yet again.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she cupped her breasts, imagining that Mistress Mystica's hands were upon her. Through the intensifying pain of that act, she also felt pleasure, and a ragged breath passed between her smiling lips. Sitting on the bed, she lost herself in the pleasure-and-pain sensations she created for herself, at times trying to fight back more tears, once again trying to (re-)prove her worthiness to the now-distant Mistress.

At last, she stood again, and slowly made her way to the bathroom to apply a little make-up and to brush her long raven-black hair. Once that was finished, she returned to the bedroom to locate and put in her dragon earrings and her adjustable snake ring. Then she located two more specially-cut pieces of sandpaper and another package of hand warmers and made her way to the living room, each step causing her breasts to jiggle slightly against the abrasive and warming items in her bra.

She sat on the sofa and unzipped the outside of each awaiting black heeled boot. She opened the second package and placed a hand warmer into each boot, then added the sandpaper. Since she had come this far already, she had no qualms about slipping her foot into each boot and zipping the footwear shut. With sandpaper and a hand warmer "attacking" each foot and breast, she knew her torment would be quite considerable, but she knew that it had to be done.

A quick glance at the VCR's clock told her that it was time to go. Cautiously, she stood, and that act itself was not too bad. The first few careful steps, however, were terrible for her, as the subtle shifting of both breast and foot which occurred with each step added just enough torment to be troubling. By the time she reached the coat rack, her lower lip quivered from the pain, although the pain caused by the nipple clamps was by far the worst at the moment.

Soon, she had donned her thick black winter coat and her favorite Steelers winter hat. A long orange scarf was wrapped several times about her neck before the ends draped down her front to nearly her waist. The heat against her breasts was now quite hot, and with the thick layers she wore, the heat could not dissipate properly. With her wallet tucked into a zipper pocket of her winter coat, she donned her thin, insulating gloves, picked up the keys from the lamp table by the door, and left her apartment.

The walk to the main staircase of the apartment building was not too bad. But each step down the height of the building was excruciating, her breasts moving so much that the clamps seemed to take a special glee in pulling painfully at her nipples. The jiggling caused the scraping of her sizeable feminine swells and her small feet to intensify appropriately. The heat did not help matters at all, producing a torture of its own for both her breasts and her feet.

By the time she reached the sidewalk in front of her Dithridge apartment building, she was very nearly in tears. Yet she fought valiantly to keep her expression steady, to not make any sounds of discomfort, even though she wanted so desperately to cry and to scream.

Now, her quest could continue.

She decided to walk to her favorite coffee shop, located on the opposite side of campus. Perhaps tonight, her quest would end. Perhaps there, she would find the One to take the place of Mistress Mystica, to take her to new levels of pain and pleasure, to introduce her to new levels of servitude.

But first, she had to survive the long, long walk on this cold winter night, with the icy wind blowing through the urban canyons and across the relative "plain" of campus. If she could survive the torment of the long, long walk and then resolve her quest, then, she felt, she would definitely be worthy to serve a new Dominant.