BDSM breast torture
BDSM breast torture started on the couch, as it often does. A little snuggling during a commercial, and soon we both lost interest in the TV, so off it went. We kissed, first quick light kisses, then deeper, more insistent. Then he gently massaged my breasts beneath my t-shirt, through my bra, lightly tweaking my nipples, “waking them up” as we call it.
And so it went, for a little while, friendly, cuddly necking, laughing, teasing, as we each got aroused. Then, almost as a signal, he simultaneously bit my neck, lightly but hard enough to hurt, and pinched my nipple tightly between his fingers.
Suddenly the mood changed.
That’s when I felt a wave of apprehension. Which was quickly overwhelmed by a sudden insistent desire. A sharp contrast to the gentle arousal I felt moments felt. Then my body tensed in anticipation.
He quickly disentangled himself from my now limp arms and stood before me. Then I sat up straight on the center of the couch, with my eyes lowered to the floor.
My mind was already racing ahead to what would happen next, excited and nervous. I should know better. Trying to anticipate only distracts me from now. And I never know what he is going to do. Then he put his finger under my chin, and I looked up into His eyes.
“Are you my submissive?”
He asked, seriously. I am his BDSM Sex Slave. I knew this would be the last time he asked for my consent that night. That knowledge filled me again with that strange mixture of apprehension and desire. Once I gave my consent, I was his, to do whatever he wished with. What would he do?
I paused, for I never answer this question lightly. And then I felt suddenly that I wanted nothing more than his approval. Then I breathed “yes”. He smiled his approval. Once again, I lowered my eyes.
He instructed me to sit still, close my eyes, and not to move until he returned. He went into the bedroom. And then immediately, against my will, I started anticipating.
Will it hurt? Will I please Him? What will he tell me to do?
I heard the door to the “toy cabinet” open. That’s when my thoughts returned to the present, as I feel the area between my legs starts to tingle.
His absence was frustrating, but, thankfully, short. Then I heard him come back into the room, but I keep my eyes closed, as instructed.
“Hands behind your head, shoulders back, breasts out,” he commanded. Even fully dressed as I was, that position always makes me feel vulnerable.
It’s his favorite position because it makes my breasts accessible from all angles. He stepped around behind the couch. Then standing directly behind me, he reached over my shoulders to rub my breasts.
He squeezed them roughly and pulled at my nipples. I know he enjoys this, and he knows I enjoy it. My breathing started to speed up, and I thrust my chest out more, to his rough hands.
Then he stopped suddenly, and I gasped.
He paused, and I wondered what was going on? Did I displease him? Was I too eager? Is he upset; I wonder? And I feel my arousal begin to drop.
Then I feel the tip of the riding crop gently caressing my cheek, and I was soaring again! I smiled, for then I knew he was not upset; I have pleased and I am happy.
The crop moved to my breasts, teasing them occasionally with light taps, and once again I had to force myself not to anticipate. Even as I was performing this mental exercise, he lifted the crop and swung it down hard, across both breasts.
The pain was not immediate but took a few seconds to sink in and swell to agony. I groaned with pain, gritted my teeth, and felt my eyes fill with tears.
Briefly, doubt and fear crossed my mind.
Then I had to quell the urge to yell “Stop!” We don’t use safe words. “Stop” means to stop. Once I say “stop”, that’s it. He will stop, and won’t start again that evening.
Then almost instantly that urge was replaced by a desire so strong I wondered how I could have hesitated. My trust in him is total.
I relaxed with the knowledge that he would never hurt me. Then let the pain soak through my body. Lighting up each nerve as it traveled through my body. Resting eventually as a hot aching feeling in my groin.
He instructed me to open my eyes, stand, then follow him into the bedroom. My breasts still throbbed in pain. This kept my mind firmly on the present, wonderfully, so that I did not anticipate.
As I was walking, I found that I was hyperaware, noticing every detail of my body, and his, of our surroundings. He lay down on the bed, and I stood in my traditional spot next to him. Head bowed; hands clasped behind my back.
He told me to go to the end of the bed and remove my clothes, slowly and in such a way that he would enjoy watching.
Then I removed one piece at a time, wiggling and thrusting as I know he likes. He smiled at me. And I know it meant I was beautiful. I feel beautiful when I make him happy when it’s so clear he desires me.
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