Titty Tuesday

He is obsessed with my breasts, the tweaking of nipples till hard nubs appear between His fingers. The groans of sensual suffering as He bites down hard leaving a lacy pattern of pain in the visions of red welts. He marks what are His. He cups the left one as we drift off to sleep, He plays with them as we awaken each day. His hot lips wrap around the engorged nipple as the tip of His tongue flicks over the forming nub in His wet mouth. He likes to slap them and watch them bounce, He likes to use His favourite leather belt on them too. He is happiest when they are marred by that of His doing, no matter the implement used. He loves to stroke them while we watch TV in the evenings-He is happiest with a breast in hand. He squeezes them with rough hands each morning in the kitchen as I make His lunch for work, He squeezes them again once He arrives home from work in the late afternoon. There are times when He revels in dripping hot wax on the soft alabaster mounds, watching the darkened heated wax dribble down the sides, He relishes the screams and squeals I emit as He does this. I revel and squirm in the pain tainted extasy that is He. At times He will bind them with a length of black lace ribbon, tightly bound are they till a hue of purple enrages my white alabaster flesh. I writhe in commitment and lust as He uses me as He so sees fit. I am the most happiest when He is doing something to them, my breasts, my tits.