by M. Christian
Damn, but you’re hard.
You glance at the clock on the bedside table and sigh inwardly. There is never enough time. Moore will be unbearable all day if you turn up late for tee time. He’ll be teasing you enough as it is, you don’t want to give him one more excuse to razz you. Not that you don’t have plenty of ammunition to use against him, what with that bitch who took up residence and made off with his balls. What desire can do to a man...
You end the spanking, and give her time for the sobs to subside. You love the way her belly shakes against your lap. You examine the welts that remain from the caning you gave her the night before. Beautiful. Not to mention the initial you scratched into her flesh with the ragged end of the wooden strip you use as a cane. You love the feeling that courses through you when you mark her.
Enough. You rise up off the bed and toss her onto the floor. She starts to scramble to her feet, but you stop her with one word.
“Crawl.”
“Please, my Master.” She sounds so plaintive. “Please, Sir, may I pee?”
“Of course, my pet,” you say, enjoying the little sigh of relief that escapes her lungs. Your testicles pulse at that small, breathy sound. She crawls the short distance to the bathroom, she crawls on her forearms and knees, giving you an unobstructed view of her inviting pussy and well-defended butt hole. You follow behind her and kick open the bathroom door when she foolishly, naively, tries to close it.
You stand there at the door, pointedly watching, as she pulls herself up onto the toilet seat and tries to relieve herself. You see a look of panic cross her face. You know she is too tense. You know she can’t let it go. You know she is horribly embarrassed. You make a show of leaning against the door jamb. You’re not going anywhere.
She blushes. You hear her make a little hissing sound to herself. She starts to look down. You order her to look you in the eyes. She raises her head, looks you in the eyes, gives you her soul, and continues her imitation of a small boiling tea kettle. You see it in her eyes before you hear the spigot open. She smiles. She exults. She has given you what you demanded.
“Good girl.”
She is ridiculously pleased with herself.
You push back the shower curtain and start the water running. You send it up to the shower head and order her into the tub, giving her butt a gratuitous smack on her way in. She turns back to you and grins.
Sharply, abruptly, as if displeased, you order her to face the wall opposite the spray.
“Spread-eagled,” you bark. “Push those tits into the wall! Arch your back! Bring that lovely ass up as high as you can. Let me see my property. All of it!”
You know exactly what she’s expecting.
But she won’t get it.
Not yet.
You watch her struggling to hold the position exactly the way you described it. Her eager willingness to do whatever you want makes you hot. She is so fucking easy to manipulate.
It clearly takes a moment or two for her to identify the hot stream of liquid that suddenly strikes the small of her back and makes its way in a rivulet down her ass and into the crack between her cheeks. You only wish you could have seen her face when she realized it was urine.
And then she surprises you. She doesn’t flinch. She writhes a little, she presses her tits further into the ceramic tile, she arches her back even further, she raises her ass even higher, she tilts her head back, you almost think she’s going to cum, and then—
“Thank you, my Master,” she says in that damn breathy voice. “Thank you for marking me, thank you for claiming me, please, Master, pee all over me, i am your pet, i am your poet, i am your whore, i am your toy, i am nothing except what you want me to be. Degrade me, hurt me, fuck me, share me... i am yours and that is all that matters.”
You come up close behind her and fuck her ass.
Tits for Tat
By
Jude Mason
Shaking his head, Peter Tat Jackson wondered what had possessed him to go along with her request. He thought he knew her, but as it turned out, she knew him a whole lot better. She’d managed to gain control of their relationship somehow and that both mystified and excited him.
Looking down, all he could see were gigantic tits – his.
Tat knew he was young, virile, and handsome in a dark foreboding way. He also knew deeply that he was God’s gift to whoever he fancied at the moment. Hell, he’d been told often enough by an assortment of both men and women, and he wasn’t stupid. He listened and believed.
The trouble was, Tat had secrets. One he’d never shared with anybody and thought he never would. Then, four years ago, he met Susan MacKay and his world changed completely. It took some time, but he grew to care for her, and then trust her implicitly with anything and everything. A year after they met, he found it almost easy to reveal his deepest, darkest fantasies to her. Susan had seemed to relish each new detail, every juicy tidbit. It wasn’t until nine months ago he began to worry that perhaps she was a little too interested, a little too under-standing, and possibly a little too perverted.
Lying on his back in their king-sized bed, those soft mounds rising majestically from a chest that used to be fairly flat yet well muscled in a very masculine way. The tip of each tit was crowned by a luscious red nipple surrounded by an areola, the circumference of which would be large enough to fill the palm of any woman he knew.
Woman, what woman would ever want him again? What woman would ever look at him again without laughing her ass off?
Fuck! What have I done?
Rolling over, he pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. It took him a moment to get his balance. Still unused to the weight of them, he tended to tip forward and had nearly toppled over several times. He couldn’t see past them – hadn’t seen his toes, or other appendages, in months. Carefully, he leaned forward, peering down between those giant melons. No luck, but he couldn’t be disappointed. Deep in the depraved depths of his lustful heart, he thought they really were spectacular.
“Tat,” came a stern yet hushed feminine voice from the doorway. Susan had taken to calling him that after she’d spotted the small tattoo he had on his lower belly. It wasn’t anything outrageous, just a small upside-down heart with a delicate, elongated nipple pointing at his belly button. He, of course, couldn’t see that either. Not without a mirror.
He looked up at her. Dark haired, voluptuous yet tiny compared to his six-feet-two, she still turned him on, no matter what she’d talked him into. “Lady Susan,” he replied, using the pet name she’d suggested a couple of years ago while they were in the throes of passion. She seemed to enjoy it very much, and it completely turned him on. “I’m awake, come in.”
“Jeeze, Tat, every time I see you, I want you again.”
His cock twitched and lengthened, sliding along his inner thigh. “You say the nicest things.” The head of his cock jerked against his thigh and he reached down for it. Fingers slipped around the shaft, he gently massaged himself.
“Have I told you, your tits look amazing?” Susan eased out of her robe, her lovely, firm tits suddenly pointing toward him. “Move up, put your back to the headboard.”
He looked down again, and had to agree with her. He adored big tits – the bigger the better. That was part of his secret, the innocent part. He absolutely loved gigantic tits, wanted to bury himself in them or mound them around his face and be smothered.
Before he met Susan, he used to dream about sliding his cock, which in those dreams was always so much bigger and so much harder, between a pair of enormous boobs. He’d come in his sleep, shuddering and groaning, like some adolescent having a wet dream. The few times he’d actually found women with the right sized breasts, he’d scared them off with his over exuberant pawing and not so playful nipping.
But now, thanks to Susan, his lover and his Lady, he had his very own set of succulent mammaries. Adding to his pleasure, she seemed as enamored with them as he was, and had spent hours caressing and nibbling on them sin
ce his surgery.
“Now!” Lady Susan snapped her fingers, regaining his attention.
Scooting up the bed, he leaned against the headboard and placed his hands on the bed at his sides. A moment later, she straddled his thighs, her wet, pink inner flesh grazing the base of his cock. She leaned forward, pressing her soft skin against his, her breasts flattened against his.
“Mm, this is nice,” she murmured in that deep steady voice he’d heard so many times before. She’d accept no denial or slackness, and he’d give her no reason to punish him. She raised her face, her eyes meeting his. “Hold me. I want to feel your strong arms around me. Press our tits together.”
Tat’s heart fluttered. He pulled her close, mashing their breasts together. Her nipples felt like tiny marbles digging into his tender flesh. “May I kiss you, my Lady?”
Looking deep into his eyes, she smiled. “Yes, of course you can, just be careful and don’t come.” Closing her eyes, she pursed her lips and waited.
He took a breath and pushed down the urge to turn her on her back and take his pleasure. He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers, savoring the minty toothpaste taste of her breath in his mouth. Tongues met, entwined and battled with the other, only to dip deeply into the other’s mouth, wanting more. He slid down her back to the curve of her ass, cruelly tempted to cup her butt cheeks and pull her astride. Instead, he eased her even closer, mashing their tits together. The pressure of Lady Susan’s smaller mounds flattened against his much larger ones felt amazing, and he wanted it to go on forever.
The sudden sensation of her hand wrapped around his cock nearly sent him gasping over the edge. “Play with my tits, please, my Lady,” he breathed into her mouth, needing to have her hand off him.
“Oh yeah, babe.” Sitting back, she peered down at his chest. She relinquished her grip on his shaft only to reposition the splayed talon-like grasp on his soft, white boobs. Her hands weren’t nearly big enough to contain them, but when she dug her fingernails in and squeezed, he swooned with pleasure.
Feminine he might be from the waist up, but he still had the strength of a man. He fought that strength with every fiber, refusing to move her, to drag her hands from his tits, to fuck her like the animal he knew he was.
“Like that?” she whispered, her mouth contorted in a wicked smile. She twisted her wrists, dragging each firm mound in a semi-circular motion.
“Yes, oh fuck.” He shuddered with frustrated lust. His nipples tensed into hard knots of sensation. Each time she moved her hands, his taut nipples dragged over her palms and sent tiny shocks straight to his balls. He bit his lower lip to keep from screaming for more. His cock pulsed between them, its swollen head slick with pre-cum.
“Don’t you dare come, Tat.” Her wrists twisted the other way.
He grunted, shocked at the bite of her nails – a welcome diversion. He focused on them, imagined them driving into the head of his cock and dragging around the rim. Wrong! Dumbass, he chastised himself.
“No, my Lady, I won’t. Not until you say.” His voice was like gravel dragged across pavement. He loosened his grip on her and forced his thigh muscles to relax. His cock pulsed, the tender flesh of its head tapped against her soft lower belly.
“Even if I do this?” That wicked voice nearly drove him that millimeter too far. The firm grasp she had on his tits vanished.
He looked down just in time to see one of her hands wrap around the base of his shaft. With a grip tight enough to make him wince, she held his prick head away from her belly.
“Well?” She flicked the tip of his manhood with her free hand. “I’m waiting. Do you think you can hold off, even when I do this?” She stroked his length from balls to rim and used her thumb on the crown. Dragging it across the slit, she smoothed the oozing drops of pre-cum around.
“Oh my Gawd, please, Lady Susan.” He gyrated his hips, unable to stop and not really sure if he was trying to come or escape her tormenting fingers. Shards of bright ecstasy jolted his prick into a wild dance of need. He wanted to come, yet, he wanted to obey his lady.
Susan again held his shaft tightly and flicked the crown.
It focused him, it tore at him, and he bellowed, “Yes, I can hold.” He thought that was the end of his cry, but the words, “Please, stop,” followed an instant later.
He blinked up at her, his lips clamped tightly together, just in case.
“Please stop?” She continued her teasing caress, dragging the skin up, and then down his shaft, pressing the ball of her palm against his balls on each down-stroke. “But, you like this, don’t you, my pet, my Tattooed lovely?” She tilted her head and jiggled her tits in his face.
“Yes, yes, I love this,” he agreed hastily, desperately.
“Yet, you ask me to stop.” She pouted, but her eyes still had that mischievous look he adored, dreaded.
“I’m so close, you’re driving me crazy.”
“I know, isn’t it fun?” She brushed the palm of her free hand over Tat’s nipple, forcing a guttural moan from him.
“Yes, it’s fun. Fuck, I can’t stand it. Please, Lady Susan, can I come?”
She scowled at him, but didn’t slow her torturous masturbation, nor the delicate brushing of her hand over his nipple. “But I haven’t driven you crazy enough yet.”
Blood pounded in his ears so hard he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Do I dare ask her again? Can I hold off for a few minutes longer? His hips jerked forward, driving his prick through her fist. His balls churned. “Please, oh fuck.” His cock swelled and his balls climbed higher. The skin covering them tightened, crinkled. “Please, Lady Susan, I’m begging you.” He looked into her eyes, his own near tears and asked, “Please, let me come now. I can’t hold off. I thought I could, but it’s impossible.”
“Pinch your nipples.” Susan demanded, withdrawing her own hand. She reached down and cupped his balls. The smooth skin gripped his, a stray finger delved back between his thighs until the tip rubbed over his tightly clenched anus.
Tat raised his hands, fingers automatically finding the elongated nipples and latching onto them. He inhaled, and then squeezed.
Just as his heart lurched from his self-stimulation, Susan increased the pace of her masturbation. Mouth as dry as the Mohave gaped, a tongue no wetter dragged across parched lips in a useless attempt to moisten them. He groaned. Sweat poured from his pits and his brow. He shivered.
“Come for me, my sweet slutty Tat.” She winked at him and pumped his cock hard.
“Yes, my Lady,” he croaked and closed his eyes. Clenching his glutes, he thrust his hips forward. Nirvana enveloped him as his orgasm tore its way from deep inside. He grunted. A burning stream of cum exploded from his cock and he pinched his nipples tight again. He twisted them, dragging a moan of pain-filled pleasure from him as he spewed his second shot.
He looked down and groaned. Susan looked as if she were masturbating her own cock. Two bodies, one cock, four tits to cream over. He was in heaven.
Another ribbon of cum shot up and splattered on her right tit. It was the last; all that remained was the shuddering ooze of his climax pouring over her fingers – that and the back and forth pinching of his nipples.
“Messy, very messy,” Susan mumbled when she released his shaft and lifted her fingers to her mouth. She sucked on them, licking at the white cream clinging to each digit. A sultry smile and the lashing of her tongue made his cock pulse. Even though he’d just climaxed, she had a way about her that made him want her again.
“You can let those go now. Let me see how red you’ve made them.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the sore nubbins. Tenderly, she licked his nipple, the wetness cooling the dull ache of his harsh treatment. She lavished one and moved to the other, humming a low tune as she worked.
Exhausted, his thoughts free, he remembered their first date. Arranged by a cousin, they’d met at a dance and hit it off right from the word go. He’d adored the dress she’d chosen, red, tight to the waist, but wi
th the deepest scoop neckline he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. Her amazing tits, her nipples clearly visible, were like magnets drawing him in. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. They’d danced, and he’d drooled. He found out later, she’d loved the attention he paid to her, and her breasts. She’d also adored how he’d jumped to her every whim.
They hadn’t fucked, but they’d both wanted to. Two nights later, after an evening of talking and teasing each other to distraction, they had. A glorious fucking it had been. She’d demanded he please her with his hands, his mouth, and finally his cock. She ridden him, her warm sweaty thighs tight against his sides controlling their pace while she pressed his hands to her tits, encouraging him to twist and squeeze the enormous mounds. She screamed her climax when he’d given each nipple an especially sharp stab with his thumbnails, her own dagger-like talons buried in his elongated nips, and her cunt clenched around his spewing shaft.
When they’d collapsed together, she chastised him for not asking her permission to climax. It was as if a light had come on inside him. He’d become excited all over again.
They’d lain, side-by-side on his king-sized bed, and talked some more. She’d confessed her love of everything to do with breasts – her own and others. She also told him how she’d fantasized about having both, tits and cock, to control and play with. Little did he realize how his life would change in the coming months.
“Hey.” A sharp dig in the ribs brought his attention back to the present. “You okay, Tat?” She slid her hands down his sides, and then back up to his chest, his tits. She cupped the sides of them, pushing them together.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he managed, but still hadn’t completely recovered. “Gimme a second, please. Gotta catch my breath, my Lady.”
Pushing off him, she looked down at the mess they’d made and chuckled. “Okay, you catch your breath. I’ll go get a washcloth.” Bouncing off the bed, she sidled toward the bathroom, giving her hips an extra sway.
Tat ogled the delicious plump ass until it disappeared from view. Yeah, she’s got a great ass too. But, it was the knockers that drove him wild. Just thinking about them made his cock twitch.