I’m dreaming. It’s dark, or I’m blindfolded. I’ve just had an intense session with Juan, where he whipped my breasts for an hour or more with that awful thin plastic whip. Never too hard, but all over. My tits are on fire, and my whole slag hole area is sore from cumming.

I’m not dreaming. Someone has taped over my eyes, and there’s a lot of something wrenching my jaw too far open, tape holding it in. I’m still tied to the bottomless “chair” where Juan put me. Arms stretched tight and roped behind, legs folded up over the sides of the chair and strapped in place so my bare feet wiggle behind the chair. I hear nothing. Where is he, god dammit? I start to panic. “JUAAAAAAAN” I try to scream, but it just comes out as mush.

Maybe he left me a way out, and he’s watching to see how I do? My hands grasp and twist furiously, but find no loose ends, no loops, no knots. My legs heave against the straps, but the leather just digs into my skin viciously. I’m stuck on this chair. And the side rails are digging really painfully into my thighs. This isn’t sexy. I scream some more. Silence.

After what seems like a long time, I hear the door open. The murmur of voices. More than one. Uh oh. What is he up to? It’s always just been him and me. That’s the deal. No sharing my helpless body with his twenty buddies. (It’s a nice fantasy, but doesn’t work for me in real life.)

I can hear breathing, feel they’re near. Hands start touching me - and not just in the usual places. How many of them are there, anyway? They take their time exploring me everywhere but where I want - on my breasts and cunt. What’s going on? Suddenly something is tickling my ear, and a voice whispers, “Hold still, fuckhole.”

Hands start massaging my breasts. Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Mouths, too. Licking. Sucking. Getting them nice and wet. I like this. They know what they’re doing. My big, dark nubbins begin to throb pleasantly. A hand squeezes my boob tight, too tight, and I complain through the gag. Something hard is touching my nipple, settling around it, pushing hard into my softness. Biting down viciously on my swollen skin.

no no. NO. NOOOO!! Take it off. TAKE IT OFF! When a second clamp goes on my other nipple, my body goes into survival mode, heaving against the ropes, my legs straining. I shake my chest what little I can, but it just hurts more. Something is brushing my belly. Something thin and flexible.

Wires.

(to be continued)

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