Tamara Never Cums

_This is not my best story.  But, of my erotica, it has the best story about being written. _

A little over eleven years ago, I joined a mailing list. Soon after, a thread on the list began which discussed people’s names, how they were often punned on, particularly if used in a song.  One of those people was the eponymous Tamara of this story, and after hearing the song they were discussing, got an idea for a story.  I asked her permission to write and publish that story, which she granted.

I published it to alt.sex.stories.moderated with no title, having a ‘competition’ of sorts to see if anyone could guess the title, which is a Vile Pun. I forget now who won, but it was a fun thing for myself, and for Tamara herself.  In months we had met, in a little over a year (just over 10 years ago now) she moved in with me, and we have been together since.

Thank you Tam, for all those years of inspiring me and being a perfect partner in my life.

Tamara Never Cums

MF Mdom bdsm Vile Puns

The music started again, and she knew it was going to start all
over soon.

Tamara sighed as small jets of cool air blew over her, drying the
sweat off her exposed skin, breasts and thighs. The mechanical
jets paid special attention to the wrist and ankle cuffs as well
as the leather corset that she wore. He didn’t want them to
become too wet. He’d told her why, but now, after hours in the
machine, she couldn’t remember.

The jets moved and focused in on her breasts and crotch. First
blowing a general, easy air; then focusing much more strongly.
Her nipples hardened under their ministrations. Then the one at
her crotch began to blow on her clit, sending pulses of pleasure
through her whole body.

The chains tightened as she writhed against them.

It had all begun when she had wandered into that online chatroom.

He had been all suave and domineering, there. And she’d been
more than interested in the fantasy. The little power games they
played out had been quite enjoyable. And when he’d started
telling her to do things when she was offline, she had done them,
too.

And it had been fun. Very fun.

Then they had met. Somehow this man who was interesting,
literate, and intelligent had been physically blessed as well.

He was tall, with deep mocha eyes that drew her in and kept her
captive. Thirty minutes later and they were in his hotel room,
fucking. She was tied to the bed and his prodigious member was
sliding in and out of her wet, wet hole, while she begged for
more.

The music began again.

The chains pulled her arms and legs tightly into the shape of an
‘X’. The platform tilted back a bit, leaning in a 60 degree angle
this time.

Something like feathers began slowly teasing her sensitive nubs
back into hardness. She sighed aloud at the feeling and felt her
heat begin to rise again.

She felt a small dildo, almost the size of a finger, begin to move
slowly across her slit, massaging it. Gently, oh so gently.

Too gently.

She tried to buck against it, but no, she couldn’t move at all.
It just began to vibrate, ever so little.

She heard another whir, and each of her nipples was being
massaged and tweaked by three metal fingers, sending little jolts
of electricity through her whole body.

This went on for a while, building the tension and heat in her
pussy. Lubrication gushed out of her; a sheen of sweat was all
over her flushed and heated body.

Her head thrashed side to side, the clamps tightened a little
more. The small dildo was replaced with a larger vibrating one,
sliding, thrusting, slamming into her. She was so close, her
arms and legs tensed, the taut chains humming. It all stopped.

Cold water in a fine mist sprayed over her, lowering her
temperature, and dousing the fire in her loins. “Nooo!!!!” she
cried out, “not again!”

The music started over.

“This,” he had said, “is my machine.”

It was glorious and complex: an entire room dedicated to a device
of pleasurable torture. She had seen dungeons before, but this
was no dungeon: it was designed to cocoon one person; to please
and excite one person; to drive one person to lustful insanity.

“It’s all automated, too.”

Of course, she had thought, what else would you expect from a
rich programmer?

He’d shown it to her then, the electrodes in the corset, the
robotic arms and their attachments, the carefully programmed AI.
How it was all designed to control and excite.

It was several weeks before she acquiesced to his request.

The music skipped, and started over.

Metal clamps seized her breasts, and tightened on her nipples.
Chains attached to them began to shorten, pulling her breasts up
and away from her body.

She cried out in pain at her tortured nipples.

A purple glowing ball, attached to one of the robotic arms, began
to descend towards her face, then up her arms. It came close to
-- but did not touch — her arms. Small electric shocks caused
the hair on her arms to raise. It hurt, but it also felt good.

She relaxed into it, as it slowly moved over her body. One arm,
then another. Playfully with the outside of her hips, down one
leg, and up the outside of the other. Then back to the inside of
one leg. It moved up slowly, in a zigzag motion: first one leg,
then the other.

Finally it reached that place, that place between her legs, and
began shocking her there, sending jolts through her body.

The chains on her breasts tugged, stretching them further. Her
back arched, the pain became pleasure. It was going to happen
this time. It was! It was! She panted, anticipating.

The chains dropped her with a loud “thunk” back to the pallet. All
stimulation stopped.

The music began again.

He had carefully, even lovingly, strapped her in. He tied the
corset around her, making sure the electrodes were just right,
and not in danger of shocking her.

Then she laid down on the wooden pallet, and he tightened the
cuffs around her wrists and ankles. He kissed her, ran his
fingers lightly over her breasts, and slid his middle finger into
her pussy. Then he left.

Five minutes later the music began.

The chains pulled her legs up and apart, bending her double, and
exposing her ass. She felt a small dildo enter her sopping pussy,
then quickly exit. Then she felt it touch against her asshole,
and the chains pulled her legs wider apart.

It slid in slowly, until it was all the way in. Then the larger
one entered her pussy. They began pumping then, in a rhythm
designed to drive her mad with desire. She tried to rock with
them, to get more stimulation, but still, she couldn’t move.

When they started vibrating, they pushed her into a frenzy again.

It was an uncomfortable position, but the stimulation was still
getting her hot, making the sweat roll off her brow. Rivulets of
sweat rolled down her chest, gathering between her breasts where
small clamps twisted and turned, tweaking her nipples.

The past evaporated, and the future. She was gone, reduced to
one big sensation. Just a part of the machine.

When the third dildo entered her mouth, she didn’t even know if
the music was playing.

He smiled to himself, as he manipulated the dials and switches in
front of him. He looked through the two-way mirror at the lovely
new sub, writhing in ecstasy in the Machine.

He sighed and leaned back, letting one of his house slaves move
her mouth up and down his rigid cock. He gazed through the glass
thinking that she was definitely one of his better acquisitions.

A small panel light went off, and the action in the room came to
an abrupt halt.

It was time to restart the Garth Brooks CD.