I love the way you humiliate me for my huge tits. On the rare occasion you take me out, you forbid me to wear a bra, and make me wear tiny little tops that threaten to expose my breasts every time I move. When you spot a drunk guy eyeing them up, you make me offer them to him: "go on, let him have a feel", and I have to stand there, in a bar, letting total strangers feel me up while you watch and laugh at my embarrassment. If I've especially angered you, I end up spread over a bar stool, wanking a random cock with my tits while you ram your beer bottle into my cunt.

When we stay in, you like to tie them up. It started with thin, black rope - but now you like to use plastic cable ties that hold them painful and swollen, my tits going red and then purple as I beg you for release.  You don't release me until I've been tortured. Sometimes, it's the cane or the  whip, cutting into my swollen flesh as I'm begging you to stop. You love to make me stand with my nipples in candle flames, allowing my own flesh to cook because you've promised me that when I ask you to stop, there'll be a worse  torture waiting for me. 

When I can bear it no longer, you blow out the flames, and tell me to kneel down. I hope, for one tiny moment, that you're going to tell me to suck you off... the way you used to before you found out how pain enslaves me to you. Then you bend me forward, until my tits are touching the floor. Suddenly there are thin shiny nails in your hands and you nail me by each nipple to the floor. "That's where you're spending the weekend, whore," you tell me. "There's a 'free fuck' notice on the door. Every guy in the neighbourhood will be using your cunt and your ass. I've told them to bring their dogs too."

I love what you do to me, master.