Girl on the Net

OK, yeah, this one’s weird: ages ago I wrote a story about Katie, who was given a sex challenge by her partner, Sam, that involved nipple clamps and photographs and the DLR (the Docklands Light Railway – a London train line that winds through Canary Wharf, the Docklands and more). It was originally written as part of an improv erotica challenge for Patreons (where they give me a bunch of prompts and I have to write a sex story that includes them –  this story had the prompts ‘Katie; praise kink; airport; allotment; the DLR; nipple clamps). Seeing as I’ve recently published a couple of other sex stories set on trains (gang banged on the Central Line, and surreptitious fucking on the Victoria Line), I thought I’d throw this one into the ‘tube line erotica‘ series too – you know, the series that absolutely no one asked for but that delights my nerdy, pervy little heart anyway. It’s quite a cute one, I think.

“Just about to go airplane mode for take off,” the message reads. “Open the envelope under the kitchen sink and enjoy the challenge. See you soon, champ xxx”

“Praise is meaningless without a challenge,” Kate had said, pouting a little as brats are wont to do. And broadly that’s true, of course. A ‘good girl’ rings hollow if all you’ve done is picked up a pint of milk on the way home: far more precious to hear through gasps and just-caught breath when you’ve made someone come with your mouth.

Kate gets off on praise. Being told she’s clever, bold, slutty. Powerful or creative or funny. The praise doesn’t have to be sexual for it to turn her on, although that helps of course. She’s a particular fan of the kind of compliments that encourage her to behave in ways that are right on the edge of her sexual comfort zone: getting naked in the woods when there’s a risk other hikers might stumble across her shame; taking six strokes more of the cane than she’d manage without encouragement; slipping her knickers off beneath the table in the pub and dipping fingers into her cunt before offering them to Sam for a taste. That sort of thing.

Praise lands so much better if it comes at the end of a challenge.

Under the sink, she found the note inside a plain brown envelope, along with a pair of tiny silver nipple clamps that looked like miniature clothes pegs.

“By my calculations, you’ll have about two hours till the flight lands. In that time you have three tasks. Your first task is to put these on. Your second task is to take a photograph of yourself wearing them while driving a train – send it to me so I can see it when I land. You will find your third task inside the shed on the allotment. I know you can do this for me. Best of luck xxx”

It was the ‘for me’ that hit her hardest. ‘You can do this’ resonated, sending excitement racing up Kate’s spine and to the back of her neck, flicking all the tiny hairs on end like static electricity. But that ‘for me’ fully thudded. With depth and power and intensity. Right in the pit of her cunt. Being a good girl is hot, being good specifically for Sam is even hotter.

Beneath her bra, the clamps dig painfully into her nipples. They’re more intense than they look – the cool metal pinches tightly like her lover’s fingers yanking her forwards on the quest. She’s flustered and blushing as she runs through the early morning calm of East London. It’s silly to think that anyone else knows what she’s doing, but as she hops on the escalator to reach the DLR platform, Kate instinctively tugs her jacket around her, so no one can see the hard, angular shape of those tiny silver nipple pegs filling out her shirt.

It’s lucky Sam’s flight lands so early in the morning. She wouldn’t fancy her chances at achieving part two if she was completing this challenge slap-bang in the middle of rush hour. As it is she’s had to hop on and off three different trains to get the picture that she needs.

There was no question where she had to go to get it. There’s only one train you can drive, after all: the DLR. Docklands Light Railway. The electric train that is (usually) automated, so you can sit in the front seat and pretend to be the driver. You just need to make sure you travel at quiet times.

But quiet times still don’t guarantee empty trains, and Kate counts no fewer than seven bored passengers on the one she finally boards to get her shot. She sidles in through the first set of doors, trying not to grin or look like she’s rushing as she hurries to grab the driver’s seat up front. The hard thump of her heart puts an extra bite in those clamps as the blood flows fast and hot through her tits and direct to her nipples.

As always, sitting down only exacerbates her arousal – the wetness pools between the lips of her cunt, and she crosses and uncrosses her legs, picking the best angle and pressure to make best use of the whirr of the train. When she’s good and ready, she grabs her phone. Pretends to be framing a nice industrial shot – sunrise over Canning Town and Beckton, taken through the huge clear glass of the DLR driver’s seat – before quickly flipping the camera view on her phone and tugging down her T-shirt for the snap. The resulting photo shows her smiling, flushed face as she displays her left breast, which looks simultaneously both soft and firm as it’s crushed upwards to spill from the fabric of her bra cup. The nipple – darker than usual, you can see it practically throbbing even in a still – tipped with one of those delicious, vicious clamps.

Kate grins. Crosses and uncrosses her legs as the train bumbles through Silvertown. She adds a filter that makes that gorgeous shade of her nipple really pop from the screen, then shifts again in her seat before hitting ‘send’.

She wrestles her way through the dodgy combination lock for the rickety shed on their allotment plot, and wrenches the door open. Only thirty minutes to go till Sam’s flight lands, she’d better be quick. In a heartbeat, Kate can see why this particular task needed to be hidden in the shed: it’s far too big to have been concealed in the flat before Sam went away on their trip.

“Take this,” the note reads, “and come meet me at the airport. I want you standing at arrivals holding it nice and high and proud. Keep the clamps on. You’re doing so well, I know it. I believe in you xxx”

Kate’s starting to regret telling Sam that ‘the challenge’ was key to making her praise worthwhile. The thing she’s been ordered to hold ‘nice and high and proud’ at the airport isn’t a romantic welcome sign – ‘Missed you!’ or something innocent. No: it’s a picture of one of the silver nipple pegs that she’s wearing at this very moment.

An A1-sized, full-colour photograph. Pasted onto board so it’s stiff and slightly heavy to hold up high.

Kind of genius, actually. The photo is not explicitly kinky, so technically you’re not going to upset or offend anyone in the airport – it just looks like a giant silver clothes peg. But if you happen to be the person wearing the pair of silver clothes pegs on your aching nipples, and you’re also already a bit nervous of the prospect of airport security taking an interest… well. Yeah. Let’s just say Kate has to take a deep breath before the next part.

She pauses for a second to rest – with her hand down her knickers, of course. Pressing her fingers either side of the outer lips, squeezing and kneading to put gentle pressure on her clit. She won’t come, that might spoil the fun, but in this brief respite before the final stretch of the challenge, there in that dark shed, Kate presses and rubs the way she does when she’s contemplating a late-night wank. The languid, easy play that just keeps her simmering rather than boiling over. While she does this, she tries to conjure the exact sound of Sam’s lilting voice telling her she’s done well. She’s completed the challenge. She took the pain of those clamps like a champion, and will now have her nipples kissed all over as reward. Telling her that she’s precious and slutty and so so brave to send that picture from the train. That her tits look great in the clamps, and she looks so fucking good when she’s flushing with self-pride and … ohhhh.

Allowing herself a long sigh of satisfaction while her clit throbs beneath her palm, Kate imagines Sam whispering that she’s a very good girl.

“See you soon, champ… I know you can do this for me… Best of luck… You’re doing so well… I believe in you…”

No one at the airport has given her a second glance, and there’s no way anyone could know what that picture is unless they’re horny fuckers too, but still. Kate’s red in the face. Something about the intimacy of it makes her blood flow hot and shameful through her veins. Thudding harder than ever before at the raw, biting peaks of her tits where the pegs dig into her flesh.

The flight has landed, and she’s holding up the sign. Each time there’s a new flurry of people through arrivals she lifts it higher, doing as she’s told. It’s been a while now, though, and her arms are growing tired. Exhaustion flutters through her muscles, as if along with the picture she’s also carrying the weight of all her feelings. Humiliation, excitement, nerves. Pride in herself that she managed to complete the challenge, and a delayed adrenaline-high from that on/off DLR journey, hopping onto train after train trying to find a ‘driver’s’ seat quiet enough to snap a cheeky nipple pic.

On top of that, of course, is how much she’s been missing Sam. They’ve been apart two weeks. That’s fourteen frustrated daily phone calls in which they poured out their ache for each other, countless dozens of WhatsApp messages – checking in, reassuring, loving, teasing and playing… there’s been build up.

Kate’s a wreck. Simultaneously weak with exhaustion and powerful with the rush of accomplishment that comes with a job well done. Excited to see her lover, yet suffused with that weird sense of nervousness when you’ve been apart longer than you’re used to: worried that perhaps they’ll have changed, or you will, and the way you’re wearing your hair or the flush in your cheeks or the sweat that’s running down your neck as you try not to think about nipple clamps will somehow ruin the spark that used to flicker between the pair of you before…

It’s right at this moment, as Kate trembles with the effort of holding the sign and the thrum of nipple pain from the clamps, breathes to try and silence the jagged cacophony of emotions, that Sam steps through the door and into arrivals.

There’s a heartbeat, just as they spot each other, when everything seems to stand still. The airport lounge melts away and it’s just Sam’s radiant face ablaze with pride as they spot their anxious lover. Kate, eager to earn her praise, holds the picture nice and high and proud, with trembling arms above her head, stretching her whole body out so that her t-shirt presses against her, showing Sam those telltale bumps that prove she’s still wearing the clamps.

Sam raises an eyebrow in wicked acknowledgement, cracks a smile of devastating confidence, then opens their jacket to reveal the white t-shirt they’ve been wearing since before they got on the plane. It is printed with a nipple clamp picture, the perfect match to Kate’s huge sign.

Kate laughs and puts hers down as Sam struts towards her down the concourse. Opens her arms and falls into a shaky, emotional hug. Gripping Sam with the combined power of all her adrenaline and worry and excitement and happiness and hope that she did well, Kate clings to her lover and trembles with the force of all those feelings.

Pulling away gently and cupping Kate’s face lovingly in one hand, Sam looks into her eyes and drawls the first words of praise – nice and slowly so their lover can make the most of them:

“Well done.”

Nudging their thigh forward so it presses gently against the throbbing ache in Kate’s crotch, Sam indicates the T-shirt they’re wearing. “I knew you’d complete the challenge, champ.”

Kate moans a little at the sound of Sam’s voice. Praising her. Loving her. Telling her that she did well.

Leaning down to bite kisses into their girlfriend’s flushed neck, Sam whispers about the t-shirt, and the challenge, and how hard it must have been. How they want to hear all about it when they’re home. Above all they remind Kate that they always had faith. Gripping her tight and pressing their chest against her clamp-sore nipples, Sam whispers:

“I never doubted you, Katie. You’re my good good girl.”

This post is also available as audio – click ‘play’ above or head to the free audio porn page for more hot stories read aloud.