Plump ~2

The nerve of people, she fumed, as she wove blindly through people engaged in all sorts of interesting behaviors.  She’d come here to have fun, to have a drink or two, see what the club had to offer, see if she could find someone to scratch the rather persistent itch she’d developed in the months since she’d moved here to Seattle. Instead, she’d been accosted by a pair of doms who had squared off over her like two hounds over a juicy bone.

She was no one’s damn, fucking juicy bone.

Enraged still by the confrontation on what she’d hoped would be the start of a fun experience here in her new hometown, she barely noticed the way people parted before her. Blue eyes sending off electric, angry light, full lips drawn in a tight line, she moved into and through the lounging area, and stalked right into the largest of the playrooms. Sounds began to permeate her mad;   soft moans, the snapping of toys. Her forward momentum slowed as she drew along an open alcove where a very handsome black man was whimpering. His balls were drooping low, a heavy metal device shackled around them, tugging them towards the floor. A woman, a stunning woman with flame colored hair and a beatific smile snapped a small crop against one of his nipples, upon which a wire clothes pin had been placed. He jolted with each shocking snap of the crop on the pin. This made the device tormenting his testicles wiggle, making him squeal with the pleasure-pain.

She recognized the woman as the one who’d come up to stop the asshole from hassling her.

“Feeling better?” the redhead asked, while continuing to flick the nipples of her toy.

“I…yes. Thank you for …” her words trailed off as she watched a stream of sex juice begin to drip from the man’s penis. He grunted, moaned, as the maddened shaft seemed to pulse.

“Tisk, tsk,” the redhead chided her plaything. “Did I tell you it was okay to come, sweet boy?”

“n-no Mistress…please…I can’t hold it…please Mistress…”

“You’d best hold it.”

Her fingers wrapped around the throat of his cock, just below the head, and squeezed once, hard. His yelp and jolt made Addison jump.

“That’s enough now. On your knees.” The woman frowned, gesturing him down in front of her. She turned for a moment back to Addison.  “Please, accept my apologies for the unfortunate incident. My club appreciates the presence of such a beautiful…submissive?” Her brow lifted in query.

Addison nodded.

“Yes, then, we’re pleased to have you. I’ll be happy to introduce you to some true Doms. Somehow I think I may not be quite to your taste?” The last was spoken with a dash of disappointed humor, something that Addy thought must be difficult to master.

“No, Ma’am. I…well, you’re gorgeous. And terrifying. And…”

“No need to explain futher, my dear. It’s not a problem. Go, wander. Get a drink. Explore. I’ll see you…later.”

Her attention returned to the man kneeling at her feet. As Addison began to move away she heard her say to him, “well, boy that’s quite a mess there. You need to clean that up….”


There were all kinds of things happening, some she had seen only on porn sites and thought were only staged. They weren’t. Who knew  a woman could really put something that big in her snatch?! She opted to not go for a second drink, as she got caught up watching a rope master tie an elaborate harness around a woman, and eventually, suspend her. Clever knots pressed against her clitoris, and every wiggle or writhe created pressure or rubbing against the engorged bulb. Her nipples jutted out from tightly wrapped tits; eventually he added clamps with jingly bells on the ends that sang with every twitch and movement. Addison was as turned on as could be, imagining herself in the woman’s position. She’d never been tied like that, just a simple breast harness as her play partner had been in the learning stages of rope play.

“It’s fascinating how a simple little knot can cause such pain…and pleasure.”

The deep voice spoke from just behind her left shoulder. She recognized it immediately, and the scent he wore.

“What’s the matter, no other subs to cajole, or wanna doms to incite?”

“I think you were ‘incited’ enough for all of us, don’t you?”

She turned and stared into tawny eyes that reminded her of a tiger. A shiver threatened, but she tamped the urge down. And that other urge that threatened to make her pussy gush. He was crazy sexy, no doubt knew it too. He got her dander up, to be sure.

“I didn’t start it…”

“You sure as hell finished it. Though I have to say, I’d have loved watching you feed him his own balls…”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. It wasn’t disarming. It was devastating. And sexy. And ‘oh my gawd’ she thought, he interested her. Her girl bits tingled in response as if to say ‘duh’.

“I’m Michael. Would you like me to walk around with you for a while? Show you what’s what and who’s who?”

He asked. He didn’t cajole, didn’t touch her. There was only a half-smile on that devilish face, a slight tilt of his head as he awaited her response. She might have been able to ignore the tingle. Might have been able to ignore the smile. Might have been able to quell the magnetic response she was having. If he’d been an asshole and demanded she come with him, she might have been able to shake her head, and toss him off. Instead, she rolled her eyes. Damn him to the seven levels of hell for attracting her. For not being an asshole. For being the focus of her as-yet-unreleased anger.

“Fine.” Even to her, the tone sounded ungracious. She softened her voice. He had, after all, tried to keep the asshat from whatever he’d thought he’d try to get away with. It was the thought that counted, even if she wasn’t totally defenseless.

“Just to be clear, I don’t need a knight in shining armor to rescue me. I can take care of myself. And…I’d like for you to take me around the club, thank you.”

“No you wouldn’t. But we’ll work on that.” He paused for just a moment before His smile deepened and a dimple appeared.  My gods, if he’d done that before, it would have slayed her. Damn. A dom with a dimple? She was cooked.

“Just for the record? I’m definitely not a knight in armor–shining or otherwise. Perhaps you’ll find that out for yourself sometime. And I appreciate a submissive who can keep herself safe. Doormats are rather boring.”

He strolled off without even attempting to take her arm and physically “guide” her. Which was another thing she might have expected. Damn, but he was busting up Dom stereotypes left and right. She might already be sunk. A deep breath and sigh followed that thought, and then she hurried to catch up with him.

HNT-Tired of the Nekkid?

Sometimes I wonder if all you all are just tired (bored?) with the titty show here every week. Not that I mind doing it (okay, sometimes I mind, which in turn makes it hot, because, you know, doing what I HAVE to do because HE ordered it, and doing it even when “i doan wanna”…all adds to the sick and dirty heat of it.)

Sometimes I’m totally uninspired about what to post…do I show bruises? Clap some clamp on there? Decorate them for flag day? Like, what? I’ve been posting titty pix here weekly for nigh onto 6 years or so now, that’s 300 tit pix. Normal tits, not those porn star perfectly sculpted by man kind of silicone bag tits. So sometimes they are droopy and sometimes my bra is squishing them, and once in a while HIS hand is holding one or the other…

A reader wrote to me some bit of time ago asking for rope bondage for my tits. I like the idea but M? He’s not into rope at all. It’s simply not his thing–and i’m fine with that. (Elastics were suggested but they don’t stay on my tits, something about my skin and the way  my breasts are shaped. I can get a tiny elastic on the nips but trying to wrap them otherwise tends to not work.)

In point of fact He felt that roping them would be a terrible waste of time when He could be hitting, grabbing, slapping, or biting them. He is very much into the torturing of my poor boobs, than the artful uses of rope. That’s the sadist there.

So in memory of that, I’m posting two older pictures that shows some of the damage that He can do to me with a cane. Happy HNT! (are you sure you’re not bored?!)

Playday bruises (I bruise so easily!)

a weighty reminder


Two days later:


HNT–The Things I Do to Amuse Him

Okay, so this is wicked late–but the weather is so nice and the garden has been calling my name and…garden2…everything is so new and sprouting and needs some spring lovin’…

But the work of a slut is never done, so I took some pix for Him…and before I even sent them to Him I knew He’d be bored as hell with them…so I put on my thinking cap and…


In His reply to the pic, He says the clamps aren’t tight enough…my nipples aren’t white yet. I swear, They are never satisfied! Damn Sadists!!!!  😀

I did hasten to reassure him that they were indeed VERY tight on my poor nipples that are totally not used to being clamped these days (but twice in 8 days now…so maybe I’ll get used to it again?). And yeah, okay, I’ll admit it.

I’m horny as hell.

And it’s ZNN…

and there have been threats of a imminent half-O…or worse (what’s worse? I don’t even ask. I mean really…that would be the epitome of dumb, amiright?! Do you know how HARD it is not to ask anyway?? Yeah, I was certain you did.)

Happy HNT pervie peeps!



HNT-Caned Boobs

The cane was a fucking bastard. Or HE was. Thwapping and slapping that fucking thing on the tops of my tits. Smacking the clamps He’d snapped onto my nipples, alternating with flicking the chain that joined my two tits together. Oh my gawd!  It hurt like fuck-all.


It was erotic as hell. The burn…oh the throbbing burn of the pain…

It was as fiery as hell.

I was a wet, limpid, wanton slut (with very sore tits) when He was done.



White Rabbit (3)

She swallowed nervously. The idea of putting something foreign into her body was scary. Though it was more the idea of deep inside her belly. Not like a normal play session where there would be ‘insertables”, but something that would have control of her from the inside out.

She thought about that for a moment. Wasn’t that truly what submission was, though? Being controlled through her own choice, by someone else, from the inside out. True, but this wasn’t a “someone”…it was a “some-thing”. And it wasn’t even human.

“What if’s” danced through her head; though she’d heard tales of white slavery, she highly doubted that three middle-aged women were a targeted group. Emily sat, trying to not fidget as the paperwork was displayed, as they listened to the disclosures, swiped credit cards, and crossed their t’s and dotted their i’s. They had finished the final part, writing a few precise activities that would be their ultimate fantasy. The woman who handled the paperwork gathered up all their forms and disappeared through the curtain without a word.

The three looked at one another.

“Well that was terse.”

“I know, right?”

“Well, and now what?”

From behind them came the delicious voice of their guide.

“Ladies, if you will follow me?”

“Oh!” Chris gasped, holding a hand between her breasts. “You startled me!” His only response was a flash of that gap-toothed grin, as if he had meant to unsettle them.

“That was kind of….bastardy.” She grumbled.

“Is that even a word?” laughed Emily. “I’m sure it’s not.”

“Is so…”

Amy interrupted.

“Yup…because you just made it up!”

With a quick smile shared, the three woman briefly bumped shoulders before following their guide down the hallway.

“Boo-yah” muttered Chris under her breath.

“Better than boo-hoo,” quipped Amy, making Chris giggle and Emily smile.

Antoine guided them into the room, placing Chris first, then Emily, then Amy. He drew the partitions so that they couldn’t see one another. Standing near the entry drape, he turned and addressed them all.

“Your ‘bots are being programmed. Please, remove your clothing, and lay upon the bed. An attendant will be with each of you shortly.” He waved his hand towards the beds in a sweeping arc. “Ladies, enjoy your trip down the rabbit hole.”

He turned, departing silently.

There came the soft sounds of disrobing, the swish of fabric slid over heads, the shussshing of a zipper lowering, the little flick of buttons., followed by the faint creak of bedding as a body lay upon it. From the farthest area came a giggle, quickly silenced.


Emily half-laughed, followed by Amy.

“The three of us are a case. A real case.”

Before she could go any further, the curtains parted and three women in blue scrubs came into the room.

“Amy?” Asked the first one.

“Here,” came the reply from the center partition.  The woman moved forward, disappearing out of Emily’s view.


“That’d be me,” came the response, followed by another nervous giggle.

“By default you’re stuck with me,” said Emily to the last woman.

“Not stuck at all. I’m happy to be here, assisting to your fantasy, Emily. Now, are you comfortable?” She made some minute adjustments to the pillow, pulling a small electronic tablet from her pocket. Tapping and scrolling, she read for a moment. Em swallowed down her embarrassment at laying here buck-naked while this “nurse” stood there, fully clothed. She tried to imagine that she was in a dungeon, that there were swarms of people around, that her ‘owner’ had dragged her there for the exposure.

It helped, a little, that scene setting, though in truth Emily was not the fanciful sort. She was a practical woman, and proud of it. Her musings were interrupted as her ‘nurse’ finished reading, and addressed her.

“You’ve chosen to use one of the male bots in accordance with your fantasy” she paused, and turning to the human-looking robot,  lifted a small panel on the left hip. Emily tried to see what she was doing, but her view was mostly blocked. Though there wasn’t a sound to indicate that it was “awake”, Emily knew the moment ‘he’ stirred to …what? Life? Full mobility? She was into computers, after all. She refused to call it “life”…but she was pretty interested to see it’s…cock…begin to inflate.  It’s eyes blinked, once, twice, and Emily noted somewhat randomly that his eyes were as green as emeralds. Her attendant continued, her tone brisk and business-like, something Em appreciated, considering that the two of them were hanging out with a naked robot with a large and engorged cock.

“…and although your fantasy is about being tied up and-or being immobilized, he won’t do that, it will be part of your preparations as you fall into your dreamstate.


Em didn’t follow that last bit, as she was rather enjoying watching the big ‘bots cock do that little jerky thing that human cocks did when excited. That was some remarkable programming there!

Her wandering attention was refocused when her ‘nurse’ tapped her shoulder. Give the woman points, Em thought, she didn’t appear at all embarrassed as to where Emily’s attention had wandered to.

I’ll restrain your wrists and ankles and have you all prepped to go, once you swallow your dreaming ‘bot. It will take, as Antoine should have told you, about ten minutes for you to go into dreamstate–and for some it happens faster. Ready?”

Her smile was reassuring.

“I…I guess I am. So many bots,” she murmured. Dream bots and male dildo bots and…

“stop procrastinating and just do it,” she muttered to herself.

Taking the small pill from her attendant, and water from the tray beside the bed, she threw it back and swallowed. In less than a minute she felt a bit woozy.

“Whoa..thaz kina fass,” she spoke blurrily.

“Relax, and enjoy.”

That was the last Emily heard. She didn’t feel the cuffs encircling her wrist, or being secured to the large D-ring in the wall over her head. She didn’t wake up when nipple clamps were applied to her tightening nubs, but the reaction rippled across her body as a shiver of goose-bumps. For a moment it felt like falling, and then she was flying….

There was a tang in the air, as if she was near the ocean. The musky scent of beer and male ejaculate mixed, reaching her here where she swung near the ceiling.



She wriggled. She blinked.

She was definitely suspended, hung in a rough hemp fish net. Her legs were held apart by virtue of some sort of apparatus around her ankles. In the dim light she couldn’t see much of anything. Her hands were out through the net–the holes were very large–cuffed together and hooked by a rope to a hasp on the wall. Her hair had been clubbed back into a rough short ponytail, and when she tried to move it, she felt a distinct tug in her ass.

An anal hook? It was very firmly up her butt, not totally uncomfortable, but definitely there.

The rough rope dug into her tender belly. Her large tits hung through the openings, and she distinctly felt the tug of a chain on her nipples. When she moved, it wriggled, giving her a reminder to not wriggle around too sharply.

“Yew getting bored up there slut?”

A rough hand slid up between her thighs, rubbing at her lower lips. A thumb was pressing into her, while a finger rubbed at her clit. Not sure what to say, she remained uncharacteristically silent.


A sharp tug on the chain on her tits made her gasp.

“My friend asked a question. Be a good girl, stop reading into everything I say, or my friends say and just fucking answer will you?”

The voice was exasperated.

“Yes Sir.”

“At last.” He clapped his hands once, twice, slowly, mockingly. “The slut answers. You’re gonna be fucked. Treated like the little greedy whore I know you to be. You challenged me to push you, to stretch your boundaries, remember? Here we are, and you are definitely being stretched.”

He laughed, moving around to tug the rope attached to her ponytail and the butt hook gave a firm wiggle. OH yes. She felt that! Stepping back to the front of her, she felt her hands rise as he unlatched her from the wall.

“Ready to lower?” He called across to some other unseen person. There was a creak and she felt herself drop in little jolts, each one making her head bobble and her ass hook wiggle. It was somewhat painful, and desperately erotic as well.

The net was tugged and she felt a bit dizzy with the down drop/ the left tug/ the right tug/ the sounds of the men/ and the dizziness/ and the dim light/  and..her head spun until she landed atop a person. She felt the unmistakable feeling of male chest hair on her tits, the roughness of a man’s legs against her thighs, and the protuberant push of a cock against her belly.

“Perfect. She lined up okay for you, Tom?”

“Oh, that she is…wait….let me take off this fucking chain…that’s friggin’ cold! ‘Sides, I wanna feel nips, not metal when I squeeze these fat titties.”

The net still contained her, but there were hands all over her.  It was a very large cock that pressed against her belly. She trembled.

“Yup, let’s take this out too…”

A sharp tug pulled the tangled cord out of her hair, and she yelped.  And yelled louder as the bulbous tip of the anal hook was tugged past her clenching anus. There was a wet splash.

“One asshole, stretched and lubed…”

There was fumbling beneath her, fumbling behind her, until she felt the firm press of a cock against her tenderly throbbing asshole. He didn’t stop, just pressed forward.

“Aaahhh fuuuckkk, that’s nice. All hot and slick in here…”

Hands gripped her hips, fingernails digging into tender skin. She moaned at the forceful intrusion.  A second cock pressed against her, slipping along her slicked pussy. He muttered as he tried to find her entry, but she couldn’t concentrate on the words, with the painful stretching of her bum. And then he was inside, the flared head of his shaft parting her as his hips rose, working himself deeper into her pussy.

“Reaaaaallly fuckin’ tight with Amos in her asshole.  Holy fuck what a feelin’…”

“Now you just gotta lay there an’ let me fuck ya both.”

Hips bucking, Amos began to grind in and out of her ass. The feeling was both painful, and shockingly arousing. She felt her cunt stiffen around the cock as the first orgasm rolled through her.

“Little cunt just came,” reported Amos. “Felt her cunt even in her butthole, going all clenchy. You feel that Larry?”

Larry uttered a soft moan.

“Move your head Larry. Time to finish the trifecta of fuck.”

Her Master’s voice, so cultured. Always it shocked her to hear such dirty words come from such a fine mouth. It was fine to look at, gorgeously educated, so erudite. Hearing “fuck” and “cunt” from it was a dark treat. And then all rational thought fled as his swollen cock pushed through her unresisting lips, and began to fill her mouth, her throat with his thickness.

The three men working her body filled her; she didn’t think, just experienced. She let go of everything except for the cocks inside her pussy and ass and mouth, the hands clenching around her tits, pulling her nipples. There was the grunting sounds of men, rutting. And her own mewling breaths, squeaking and gasping when he pulled away enough to let her breathe.

Never had she experienced such pleasure coupled with a distinct pain. Her anus throbbed, but the beat was taken up by her clit, rubbed roughly by male crotch hair and the hemp rope that still contained her. Her thighs quivered, held open so widely, her throat ached from the rough face fucking.

She was in a hellish mix of pain.

She was in an awesome mix of pleasures.

Thinking stopped as she swirled apart, her body jolting in an incredible orgasm, until she fell into the blackness of slut sleep.


Pink Brush

The wall was cool against my aching tits. My forehead was pressed tight, the way He likes, my feet aching a bit now, in my high, high heels.

I felt incredibly sexy.

My tits loose from my clothing, my nipples caught in the grip of the clamps, the heavy chain swinging, pendulous, from them. If I moved, they scraped the wall, or clattered against it. A sexy sound.

Don’t let anyone tell YOU that you aren’t sexy because you’re a certain size. Even carrying more weight than I’m really happy with, He made me feel wanted, wanton.

He was moving around the room in that way He has, making noise only when He wanted me to know where He was. I forget what I was doing there, waving my hand out in space, thinking He was in the bathroom, swinging my hips, waving my fat butt around…being silly nilla.

He blew in my ear and scared the *fuck* right outta me!

I shrieked, and jumped a mile.

“Head on the fucking wall, nilla,” He growls, His voice so sexy when He talks that way to me. Not just the swearing, but the intimidation factor. Hot. Hawt. Hawt! His hand presses my head onto the wall in a quick swat, but I’m already there, thank heaven. (I did get a little forehead bruise from that.) Quickly I slap my palms to the wall, before He does something dastardly to them.


I listen for Him.

Soooo hard.

I hear nothing but the pre-football-game commentary on the t.v. The hum of a motor from the bathroom fan in the wall. Nothing of Him, the sneaky bastard. He’s slick, and mean, and can come up behind me and wale one on my butt without warning. That was around the time that He pulled out one of Wolf’s toys and belted me across the back with it.

Holy fuck on a stick, that hurt!

Tears in my eyes, breath caught in my gut somewhere, tangled with the scream that was trying to get out as the breath was trying to get in.

He loves those moments.

He calls them “You don’t know whether to shit or go blind” moments.

Then He is beside me again. I feel Him there, and then He has moved away. He is very like a cat, I just can’t hear a sound. And from a distance…

“Oh nilla?”

My heart jumps into my throat.

Something in His tone has set my “I’m Prey” alarm onto hyperdrive and I’m fighting the urge to look. To see what is coming next.

“Where’s my little pink friend?”

And I know what He wants.

The night before, as I was packing my things carefully for our adventure, I debated. He had told me what to bring…but He didn’t mention that. Yet,  it is a long, no-longer-spoken-but-understood rule that I must ALWAYS have the Fucking Pink Brush with me for playtime.


Yet, I stood there in front of my mirror, holding it in my hand, squishing the squishable handle in my fingers…and actually debated about putting the fucking thing into my handbag.

It’s terrific at taking out the tangles in my hair post-Master…but it is also such a weapon of ass destruction.

After a long pause I answer Him. He doesn’t interrupt my musing, or tell me to hurry it up, slut, He waits. He does that, that




waiting, until I answer Him.

“It’s in my bag on the bathroom counter,” I say at last my voice a mere whisper.

I hear nothing, not even the sound of a man going through a woman’s handbag. You know how they can be, rooting around like a dog in a garbage can, right? *giggling*

I hear nothing, sense nothing.

Which is why I tried to pass through the wall when He smacked my left ass cheek with the fucking thing.

Because I knew it would take mere seconds for Him to reposition and attack the right side.

I was right.

Two weeks later and I’m still wearing the marks from those two single *BAM*’s on my ass, about the only thing left of our play time, other than wicked memories.

You know I’ll be tracing them with my fingers tonight as I head to bed.

Oh, the way He does me.

Does me so bad…which of course, is soo000 good.


I really *do* hate that fucking pink brush.

I just like the *afterwards* part.

Wonder if there’s a way to skip the OUCH and go straight to the bruise?

Nah, didn’t think so.





The Sadist Came to Lunch

He is waiting at the simple restaurant we favor on these playdates. I was so hungry, having been unable to choke breakfast through the lump of anticipation in my throat.  I was hot, horny, wanton.

That first glimpse of Him as I enter the warmth of the room catches me–not breathless, exactly–I’m not a teenager chomping at the bit to see my boyfriend. It’s darker, and so much deeper than that. Not just my cunt is involved here. It’s my mind, my body, my spirit…and all react to seeing Him sitting there. He’s chosen a chair next to the fireplace, a soothing balm –it is incredibly frigid outside. I look at Him, smiling to myself. He’s reading the paper, immersed in it, as deeply as I am immersed in taking in this relaxed view of my Man. The nerves I’ve carried all week begin to fall away, every step making me feel lighter, freer, happier. Just seeing Him sitting there, knowing He was there for me. 

There’s incredible power in that, for both of us, I think.

I come closer and He sees me, smiles that little wisp of a smile that makes my stomach just clench in delight. It is the smile of the Master, the control of the Sadist. He is happy to see me, and for this one flash of a moment, allows me to see that pleasure.

He teases me about something, I forget now. I kiss Him lightly on His mouth, and as I lean down, I feel His fingers pinching my tit. I’m hot, and it’s not from the cheery fire burning a few feet away, but from the flames He instantly kindles in me.

We chit-chat for a bit, then pick a table. Will I have the bagel I always do? I decide, after some debate between us, to have a light lunch. Too much food and I’ll pay for it during play time. Too little and I might faint. I chose soup and asandwich, and ate while we talked. Well, He talked, I mostly listened.

I have no ide


a, no memory of what we spoke of. Mostly the mundane, I think. I was watching those leonine eyes of His, glinting hues of amber and banked fire. His face is compelling, and I watch it avidly, drinking Him with my gaze.

I am rising as we prepare to go to our room. His voice stops me as effectively as a hand on my arm.

“When you go to change? Clamps on immediately.”

I feel heat, in my face, between my thighs, and a tingle in my breast as my nipples rise in anticipation.

And so it began.

Pain Is The Gateway

“Get on the wall. Now.”

I scamper across the room, if a slut can ‘scamper’ on 6″ heels. (Cherry red brand new heels but more on that later.) I slam myself on the wall with an audible ‘thunk’…because it is so much easier to do it to myself than have Him smash my face into the hard flat surface.

He laughs.

He says “good girl” and I melt hearing those magical two words. “Good girl” surpasses all the other sentiments, doesn’t it?

I swallow the surge of lust. I’ve been turned on, turned on hard for 40 hours or so. Waking up wet and throbby, tossing and turning in my sleep trying to deal with the unanswered needs. Now, the cold of the wall presses against my clamped nipples,  the freezing chain pressed into my belly, but it does nothing to assuage the curling of lust deep in my cunt. Nipples banged with heat, from pain, from fantasy come to life, from lust. There was such intense sex-need growing between my thighs, that I wondered if I would leave a ‘snail trail’ of sex juice down the flat surface. His voice, all business, interrupts my musing.

“Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

I turn, a bit shaky, a bit wobbly and plaster my ass and palms against the wall.

“Close your eyes…”

*snap* I shut them tight.

There is a whoosh and a thwap against my left tit. A second blow falls on the clamp biting my nipple. The chain swings, tugs. I moan just a bit as He tugs the chain with whatever He is hitting me with.

My pussy is blazing with heat, oozing with liquid. I am soooo close to cumming.

And then He begins to beat my tits in earnest. He is silent as he does it, just the sound of my little gasps as the blows rain down–left tit right tit left tit left tit nipple nipple chain nipple right tit right tit right nipple right nipple right nipple…

I am whining a bit and then it happens…I cum, a wet slippery tremble as He whacks my tits. I’m dazed and confused and shaking and so fucking turned on. I didn’t know it was going to happen…the regular “I’m gonna cum” warnings didn’t flash, blare, or warn me. Just *boom* and it was drooling down my legs.

My hands clench, nails biting into palms as the tempo and force increase, until I’m pressed back as if trying to pass through the wall.

And then He is done, moving away. I breath, big rasping breaths.

“I have a surprise for you nilla.”

His voice is smooth and dark as fine chocolate. Prickles raise up along my shoulders, race down my spine. He bids me to open my eyes and I do. He waves a radio antenna in front of my face. His eyes glow.

“You wanted your tits beaten, right? Well there you go. This broke off my radio. Broke right off. And I knew then that it was for you. For you, nilla.”

Did He laugh then? As the first whooshing pass came toward me, as I shuddered, whimpered at that first unforgiving contact, and moaned with pain and pleasure, I think that He did.