That first, shrill “EhhhhhHHHH!” when I roll Leigh’s nipples between my thumb and pointer finger is just divine.
And when those nipples are sitting atop arched, taut and thrust out breasts that are helpless against my whims and perversions, all the better. I adore, just fucking adore, how rigid they become when firmly rolled back and forth between my fingers.
It would seem like such a sophomoric play, but in actuality those two nipples present a multitude of erotic possibilities with potential to not just arouse but also torment, even torture them and their owner. So many variables to play with. How firmly do I squeeze them? Are they exceptionally hard? Do I gently apply pressure and tug on them, or perhaps pinch them? And if so, quickly or slowly, and for now long? Just once, or over and over and…
…it’s a lot of sadistic fun making Leigh a sopping mess this way.
And it does make her juices run. Many times a good nipple play session is all that is needed to ensure a wet, sloppy fuck.
(if you don’t believe me, after you finish this Act check out SDS. You’ll see)
Her stretched areola wrinkled like old newspaper beneath their proud, pointy head lines. Tweaking the intersection where nipples start and areola ends was especially fun, a whole new level of pain. To which Leigh added plenty of frantic squirming, pulling against the chains, pouty huffs of frustration and just general erotic misery in every conceivable fashion.
She may say she hates this, but she fucking loves it. And the aroma permeating the candlelit night air from her ripening cunt testified on my behalf, not hers.
Arousal by Nipple Torture. The verdict? Guilty. Her sentence? Hard time.
But that would be later. Right now court was still in session, with yours truly acting as judge, jury and executioner.
I pressed the fullness of my body against hers to not just lessen her ministrations but also savor them. Its one thing to watch and feel a part of her anatomy twist in the winds of sadomasochistic breast play, but to almost be an extension of her skin is quite another. It was if we were dancing, a most erotic, perverted dance but still two bodies moving in unison with one leading.
The intensity of her bound gyrations, laments and reactions to my hands on her nipples while my mouth devoured the nape of her neck was surreal. Her ass cheeks made short work of making my cock long, the hardness pressing almost painfully through the zipper of the faded jeans that stood between it and her flesh. She felt my arousal growing, both physically and emotionally, and was feeding off it just as I fed off her own soaked reaction.
With my mouth now adding a third way to abuse her, it was almost rhythmic how teeth, lips, breath, fingers, tongue and my mind were making her dance like a puppet on a chain.
“You fucking love this, don’t you cunt?” I whispered to her while grazing her earlobe between my teeth.
Silence except for the tunnnnggg sound of the chains being pulled tighter by her efforts to avoid my tactile and oral attack.
I squeezed both nipples hard. Pulling. Twisting. My fingers felt as if they touched. Add in a rather firm bite of her neck at the same time and..
“”AaaaaHHHHHHH!!!!” she cried out, obviously in pain.
After a quick release, I did it again. Harder.
“ShhhsshhSSSttTHHTHHSSTHHH!!!” was the outright hiss that escaped through her tightly clenched teeth, followed by panting and rapid, short breaths ragged with adrenaline and saliva. Now that I had her fucking attention I asked her again.
“You fucking love this, DON’T you cunt?”
“Yes Sir…” she quickly yet meekly offered.
Much better. I smiled, pleased.
Not long after some final tugs, twists and pinches she noticeably braced herself when my fingers left her nipples and all they could feel were the fingernails of my pointer fingers coiled tight against my thumbs.
She knew that sensation meant one thing.
That her delicate and already sore nipples were going to be flicked.
Go ahead. Right now. You don’t have to do it to any part of your anatomy, but take your pointer finger, bend it backwards and tuck it into your thumb’s fingerprint. Pretend there is something you want to flick. Now, with a concerted effort, make your pointer finger escape the catch your thumb is providing. Go on, do it.
Feel that release? How much energy is being expended and in a controlled, precise manner? I am willing to bet a fair number of you did that to your own nipple, you perverts. I respect that.
Um, you can stop now.
Now imagine that after they have been not just severely tormented but also that they are tight, hard and helplessly displayed. Keep that sensation in mind as you read on.
When you flick nipples its akin to flogging them with a single strand flogger. A single strand of an otherwise innocuous item moving at a significant rate of speed, with its very tip the only part making contact with what ever is in its path. Which in this case were Leigh’s proud nipples.
“Ohhhhhhh, you know what is coming, don’t you?” I whispered while gazing down over her shoulder at the points of interest.
Her lip a quivering, pouty ledge, all she managed to utter was a pathetic whimper from somewhere deep inside.
Then I paused. And waited.
Did nothing but breath on her.
The tension mounted. Grew. Suspense permeated the room. Leigh braced for the inevitable. Often it’s not what you do but when and how you don’t do a single fucking thing. This technique is especially effective with blindfold play. The theatre of the senses takes over. The mind fuck of anticipation is mouth watering.
The silence was deafening. Our hearts felt like one.
flick went my fingers.
Temporarily insane went my Leigh.