A torture session in Lyle's dungeon
You are tied up to a vertical rack, with your hands overhead. Your breasts are thrust forward, hanging helplessly, quivering in anticipation.
I pick up a thin horsewhip, about three feet long.
I rub the whip on your nipples, back and forth, playing them like a violin. I give you a series of light taps, in a fast rhythmic movement, tap-tap-tap--- Your tits jiggle in time with the taps. Then, harder taps. Harder.
Then, suddenly, not a tap but a full stroke of the whip, WHACK, right across the nipples.
WHACK, an upward stroke this time, on the underside of the breasts. WHACK, above the nipples this time. Another WHACK, and another. Stroke follows stroke. After twenty strokes, your breasts feel like they are on fire.
I stop the whipping, and move behind you. I reach around and massage your nipples, gently, and squeeze the breasts, in a milking motion. I put one finger on each nipple, pointing in, pressing in, and wiggle the fingers around, so the whole tit shakes with the motion of the fingers. Then, more gentle squeezing, more rubbing of the nipples. Slowly... there is no hurry about this.
Meanwhile a pan of water has been heating on the stove. When it is almost boiling, I put two spoons in the water and leave them for a few seconds.
Then I put the hot spoons on your breasts, on the side, near the armpits. It's like touching a hot stove, but you can't pull away.
You draw your breath in, sharply. Your whole body is pumped full of adrenaline. You thrust your breasts forward, waiting for more.
I put the spoons back in the hot water, and apply them again, this time to the underside of the breasts. And so on, all around the breasts, all over the aureoles, moving closer and closer to the nipples, but never quite reaching them. Burn after burn after burn... At first I just touch you lightly, but then I start holding the spoons in place for five seconds, ten seconds... It takes a LONG time to cover an entire breast with burns, an inch at a time. To you, it seems like forever.
Now a pause, an interlude for massage. Again, there is no hurry. As I squeeze your breasts, they melt, and you melt. A dam breaks inside you, and something that has been held back for years comes flooding out. You are entering the space you always knew must exist. You are finally here. Your old dream is finally happening.
I pick up the whip again. This time your tits are already aflame from what has happened so far. They are infinitely sensitive. WHACK. Right across the nipples. WHACK, harder. WHACK, again and again. Stroke after stroke after stroke. I'm not holding anything back now, my dream is happening too, and I'm hitting you with my full strength.
The pain is searing, blinding, overwhelming. Time ceases to exist. You feel nothing but the whip, and see nothing but flashing red and yellow lights, like a million flashbulbs.
I pick up two alligator clips, turn on a gas burner, hold them in the flame long enough to get really hot, and clip them onto your nipples. You feel faint. Your strength fails you, and you hang helplessly from the rack, no longer able to stand on your feet. But you are still conscious, even now.
It's finally over. I take the clips off and rub the pain out with a very, very soft touch. Your breasts swell to my touch and come alive in my hands. You luxuriate in the feeling and lose yourself in it. The universe melts away, and nothing is left except the sensation of your breasts cupped in my hands. I untie you and pull you close to me. Your whole body is quivering.
