Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em: Erotic Stories of Breasts and BDSM
By Matt Nicholson
Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Matt Nicholson
Smashword Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with other another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This work contains graphic language and sexual depictions with strong BDSM themes. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
A Little Wager
Viva Las Vegas
Keeping Up With the Joneses
The Body Brokers
Solomon’s Twins
The Ransom of Solomon’s Twins
Surprise!
Spy versus Spy
Candied Breasts and Talonberry Wine
The Final Night Feast
Pushing Limits
Justice Served
Therapy Outside the Box
Candied Breasts and Talonberry Wine
When Matt asked me if I'd consider writing the introduction of this anthology, Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em, I more or less leaped at the chance. I mean, how often do you get to talk about your publisher?
When I first began writing for Darker Pleasures, Matt’s fetish e-zine where you could readily find all things connected with breast torment, I never dreamed it would be such a success or that I’d stay with it as long as I did. As an author, I tend to write in a variety of genres and deadlines were something I’d never really dealt with. I soon learned how difficult it can be to write the same genre, over and over, but to keep the stories fresh. I do remember once bemoaning the fact that I’d run out of ideas. What story had I missed? Where could I possibly take the next tortured heroine to and what new, inventive way could I find of tormenting her lovely, gargantuan tattas?
Well, Matt straightened me out there. The fetish might not be for everyone, but for those who really love it, the scenarios are endless—just like any other genre. There was the key. Breast torture stories come from the same place any other story comes from; you just have to give the story a twist. Oh, and you have to enjoy doing it.
And, no one does that twist quite like Matt Nicholson. I’m personally thinking he’s an enormous breast fan *wink, wink*. His tales are aimed towards the male of the species, I’m sure of that. But, I also know there are more than a few women who have fantasies of some dark lord pinching their nipples while whispering sweet nothings into their ears. Fan mail says so, and who am I to argue with the fans?
Fantasizing about breasts can get even more specific. Some of us enjoy large firm mounds of flesh with big puffy areolas and long succulent nipples that crinkle up beautifully when excited. Still others prefer small breasts with tiny tight nipples with almost no areola. The variety is never ending. The opportunity for stories is mind-boggling. Add the various hair colors, body types and ethnicity of our characters, and the story options grow exponentially.
The kind of BDSM performed might depend on the specific time or local. Matt takes all this in stride, jumping from light science fiction to historical; depending on what he wants to share. I’ve been lucky enough to read some of his work and marvel at the scope of his story telling.
The stories Matt offers in Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em, will please a broad spectrum of tit aficionados. Within these twelve stories, you’ll find a well-balanced variety of genre. While every one of these stories includes breast torture, you’ll be amazed at the diversity. In the contemporary corner, you’ll find: A little Wager, Viva Las Vegas, Keeping Up With the Joneses, Therapy Outside the Box and Surprise! If you’re more into field of futurist science, there are The Body Brokers, The Final Night Feast, Pushing Limits and Justice Served. Like a touch of magic with your tits? Well, Matt’s got you covered there too, with Solomon’s Twins and Candied Breasts and Talonberry Wine. Spy Versus Spy, might catch your attention as well; it’s set in the Cold War era.
Matt’s imagination surely does impress. These stories are only the tip of that proverbial…uh, iceberg. An impressive tip, to be sure, but once you’ve tasted these dozen, make sure you find the others. There are many and the diversity is astounding, and there’s always more in the works.
~Jude Mason~
Jude Mason is a long-standing member of the Erotica Readers and Writers Association. She has written for several e-zines, including Darker Pleasures, two spanking sites, a couple of other BDSM sites and has scattered work at all sorts of other places. She has other published work at several houses, including Amatory Ink, Renaissance E-Books, Venus Press, Phaze and Total E-Bound. She also has a blog and a Twitter thing, as well as the obligatory website.
“Really?!” He didn’t even bother hiding the surprise in his voice.
Her response was playful. “Sure, why not?”
As pick-up lines went, his comment had sucked, but he hadn’t intended it as a pick up; he had far better lines for that. It was more a blind shot in the dark at fantasy wish fulfillment, a blind shot he’d been trying without success for years. Now, with success potentially staring him in the face, he wasn’t certain he could believe it. He looked from her face to the bat symbol stretched across the front of her overly-tight sleeveless grey wife-beater. With some effort, he managed to look back up at her face.
“Have you been watching me?”
She tossed her long, auburn curls back off her shoulder and laughed. It was a light, carefree sound that turned heads nearby. “Of course I’ve been watching you. It’s not like I’d actually take you up on it if I hadn’t. Like you said, if I lose, I go home with you and you get to use my titties as dartboards. I’m not worried. I can take you.”
He hadn’t mentioned the going home part, yet, just the dartboard part. He’d never gotten that far. After all, it was the first time anyone had said “yes.” Typically, he was blown off at best, and slapped at worst.
“Okay…and if I lose?” He held his breath, waiting for the kicker.
“Dinner’s on you. My choice. Sky’s the limit.”
He’d expected something like, “I get to cut your balls off.” He’d gotten a couple of those, too. Even though he could think of some pretty expensive ‘skies’, a steep dinner was a very acceptable risk. Still skeptical, though, he had to ask, “Is this some kind of set up? You’re a cop, right?”
She laughed again and bunched the bottom of her shirt in her hands, hooking the underside of her bra with her thumbs. “Would a cop do this…”
She pulled everything up over her breasts, making them bounce just inches from his face. Pointing out from a bed of jiggling, full, crème-colored flesh dotted with the occasional freckle, her doubly-pierced nipples were hard, dark and thick, her rosy areola puckered. Aside from the intriguing golden balls nestled on either side of the crinkled cones at the base of her nipples and thin, golden hoops that dangled enticingly from about mid-nub, they looked every bit the bull’s eyes he’d imagined. He caught himself absently licking his lips as they disappeared back under her top, well before anyone else saw them.
“So…” She handed him three darts that sported Union Jack fins. “Three darts, best score. Are we going to do this? ”
He took the darts, the sight of her breasts still burned into his mind. Still incredulous, he nodded, now completely willing to risk whatever catch still existed.
Less than five minutes and the better part of two Heinekens later, two of his darts stuck from the outer bull. One was very near center of the inner. She had two just inside the outer bull. Though they were the only two that knew exactly what was riding on the last dart, a couple dozen people looked on, knowing something big was in play. She took a breath, held it, and threw. The dart crossed fourteen feet in a half-second, sticking wide of the outer bull by an inch.
Always routing for the hot chick with nice boobs, the crowd groaned. He, on the other hand, dropped to his knees, raised his fists to the ceiling, and screamed, “Yes!”
~~~
A little more than an hour and a stop at Lowes later, she hung with her back just on front of his dart board from a sturdy rustic cedar rafter in his sun lit game room.
She’d passed on his gentlemanly offers of both a gag and a blindfold, but insisted on keeping her skimpy underwear, at least for a while. T-shirt and Daisy Dukes thrown across the room, her tight, white, satin bra left little imagination necessary when it came to the two circles of dark, craggy contour that showed through its tips. There was enough creamy flesh showing outside of the smooth cloth triangle that it was apparent the lingerie top was little more than decoration. Using her nipples as the center, he’d drawn one concentric circle on each breast with red lipstick as far out as her tits would allow, making the mounds into miniature dart boards.
Her arms were stretched up, wrists together. To keep her shoulders from dislocating, he’d wrapped several loops of the faux satin rope around her thighs, pulling her legs up into something of a spread-eagle sitting position. her knees sticking out at wide angles from her hips. In a practical sense, it kept her legs safe from any dropping darts. Later, once he saw to it that the skimpy shred of white, satin thong that covered them was gone, it would expose every detail of her pussy’s slippery folds, or what he hoped would be slippery folds, anyway.
With her arms pulled up, her breasts stretched up a bit, giving them a slight oval shape. He’d centered her so that her nipples were as close to regulation height as he could get them, splitting the difference between the two, with one tip a smidge higher than the standard five feet eight inches off the floor, and the other a bit lower. Though her tits were barely a third the width of a regulation bristle board, her nipples were almost the perfect size for a double bull’s eye, and her rigid areola were only about an inch wider than an outer bull ring. Given his skill, there was little doubt he’d need no more “board” than her tits gave him.
He snatched the remainder of a stale Bud Light from the cedar coffee table and slugged it down. Then he taped off a throwing line seven feet, nine plus inches from her nipples and picked up his darts.
After wiping the tips down with alcohol, he took a throwing stance behind the line and eyed the smaller of his two “boards,” only just realizing that sometime between his God-sent win and the time they got here, she’d removed the hoops and barbells. She was shifting around, trying to get more comfortable, causing any number of distracting bounces and jiggles. It was the first time he’d ever had moving targets, so he wasn’t nearly as certain of his aim, nor was he sure how hard he’d need to throw to make the darts stick.
Just as he was about to give it his best shot, she cried out. “Wait!”
He stopped in mid-throw, waiting for the shoe to finally drop.
“In my purse, there’s an egg…”
Curious, he went to the table where she’d left her canvas tote and looked inside. On top of the usual assortment of purse things was a white, egg-shaped, battery-operated, knobbed vibrator with two thin wires leading to a smaller, egg-looking contraption with a black, padded clip.
He took it out, staring at it as if it might bite him. “Holy shit…”
Her laugh echoed through the room. “Some girls carry condoms. I carry…something more entertaining.” She looked deliberately down at the tight triangle of her underwear, full labia peeking out from the sides. “Maybe you can help with that?”
He crossed the distance between the table and her wide-spread legs in a heartbeat. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of set-up?”
Moving her legs wider, she gave him a sly smile. “I’m just into kink and gambling, gorgeous.”
She pulled herself up so her crotch moved closer to him. He moved the knobbed egg toward her, but hesitated as if the underwear were some magical barrier.
“Maybe some scissors, or a knife…”
“A knife…right…” He dashed off, returning moments later with a stainless steel butcher knife that was far larger than he needed. Two quick slices and a light tug later, the thong bottoms dropped ruined on the floor.
After studying the egg for a bit, he thumbed a small switch on its lower curve. It started shaking in his fingers. With a mischievous gleam in her eye, she wriggled forward against the egg, helping him split her surprisingly wet pussy lips. Once the ovoid was a bit past half-way in, she tightened her tummy muscles and literally pulled it from his fingers. Keeping his rampaging thoughts to himself, he spread her inner lips with his fingertips and ran the two wires up through them. His cock all but tap-danced as he pinched her clit in the rubber-padded jaws of the vibrating clip. When he looked up at her, she’d closed her eyes. She was obviously enjoying the new addition.
After a couple of long, deep breaths, her voice was deep, husky murmur. “I think I’ll take that gag now.”
Duct tape came immediately to mind, but on his way back from finding it, he’d thought of one better. He snatched her ruined underwear from the floor and balled it up. Eyes dancing, she opened her mouth just enough to let him stuff it between her lips and poke it past her teeth. He had to wait for her to stop smiling before he was finally able to smooth a strip of grey tape across her lips.
Once she was gagged, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. There was no way she could back out now. He backed away from her to the throw line, trying to decide what to target first.
~~~
Deciding on the slightly smaller of her breasts, he took his best guess about how hard he’d need to throw. She watched his hand as he tracked the gently swaying target and threw. Traveling at somewhere near 14 miles an hour, the dart closed the distance in a half second. Her breath caught as its sharp, thin tip easily penetrated the thin cloth an inch below her areola then bounced back at him, landing tip first on the floor. The vibrator’s hum slowed as a small red dot appeared in the white cloth and slowly seeped outward. Sporting a full-blown erection that he knew was as obvious to her as her nipples were to him, he fought back the urge to rub himself, recalculated his strength and trajectory, and he took aim a second time.
She tensed just slightly and looked down at his target just as he let go. The dart struck her with more heft, jabbing into her left areola a half inch above the nipple. It stuck for a couple of seconds before being bounced loose from her quaking breast to fall between her thighs to the floor. He let out a soft curse and raised his arm to throw the third dart. She clenched the vibrator and held her breath. With a touch of irritation at his inability to “score,” he put more of his shoulder behind the third throw. The dart slapped into her breast halfway down the under curve, its tip imbedded two-thirds of the way to the hilt. Despite a muffled cry and a more animated response that sent her breasts heaving, the dart held, hanging upside down by its shaft.
Another stain of crimson seeped around the thin metal and into the white cloth.
Giving up on restraint, he stroked himself lightly as he crossed the distance between the line and his suspended target in two strides. He picked up the two fallen darts in one motion then yanked on the third. The tight skin stretched a bit before the dart pulled loose. For a moment, he watched the blood stain grow, then he looked at her face. Despite being wet with tears, her eyes danced with mischief as she wiggled her hips from side to side. Taking it as a hint, he decided to slip a fingertip between her legs. It slid easily up the wet, silken folds, hanging against the vibrator clip. He tickled her trapped clit until she closed her eyes and groaned, then, with a satisfied chuckle, he stepped back to the line.
Knowing he’d have to sacrifice accuracy for strength in order to make the darts penetrate, he weighed his options. Her right breast wasn’t a lot larger than her left, but a little extra board would help him figure out his game. It would also help him compensate for the gentle movement that came from her slowly rotating hips. He decided to let fire with three throws in rapid fire succession, confident he had the skill to stay somewhere on her tit, even if his shots weren’t as precise. Raising his hand, he let loose.
The first dart slapped into the outside edge of her areola, burying all the way to the hilt. Her yelp was muffled by the gag. As much as she was moving, and as hard as he had to throw to puncture her puckered skin, it was closer to being a lucky shot than an accurate one. Without waited until her breast stopped recoiling, he threw again, and again. The second missed the mark by an easy three inches, sinking into the inside curve, close enough to center that the sharp tip was still surrounded by breast, but a lot further off target than he liked. The third was almost dead center, clipping her nipple, but it was knocked wide by a sideways jerk of the bouncing mass and landed heavily on the floor.
Growling in frustration, he picked up the floored dart and yanked the other two out of her breast, deliberately twisting them as he did so the fat mound would bounce. She responded with a loud, throaty moan and clenched down so hard on the vibrator that the gentle hum all but stopped. Gaping, he stepped back to the line, deciding to play himself in a little game of right versus left.
When he lifted a dart, her eyes locked on his. He wasn’t certain how much of her gaze was driven by fear and how much was eager anticipation, but when she held her breath and thrust her chest out toward him, he had no doubt which of the two was winning. The dart closed the distance faster than she could follow, burying deep into her right areola. For a second she stared at her quaking tit, then she closed her eyes and the vibrator hum dulled again.
Between the sight of her dart-riddled breasts and her inconceivable reaction to what he was doing, he couldn’t help but grab his cock. When she opened her eyes, they wrinkled into a pain-filled smile. Embarrassed at being caught, he let go and changed the subject with another dart. He threw it just as she caught her breath again. It glanced off the first dart and speared the same areola a half inch from her nipple. Her tit cratered from the impact then did another rippling bounce.
She moaned and closed her eyes again. Her breaths were coming faster. A clear, wet, slippery film coated the insides of her thighs.
She opened her eyes just as he heaved the third dart. She tried to watch, catching up to it a split second after it drove to the body an inch and a half away from the other two on the other side of her nipple. The exhilaration on her face was palpable and, when she looked from her chest to his engorged penis, and then again to his eyes, it seemed as if she’d be able to take another hundred darts.
She watched him get a second set of darts and move back to the line. Shifting to his throwing stance, he cocked his elbow. She took another deep breath and held her other breast out, trying her best to give him a steady target. The dart drove directly into her nipple, a little off center. As long and thick as her nipple was, it stopped the tungsten needle about half way up the shaft.
When the second dart left his hand, she flinched. The dart drove into the inside of her breast, nearer to the center of her chest. The next one impaled itself between the other two, both of the last shots cratering the soft mass, pinning her tit back into her chest like a butterfly on a board.
Intrigue turning to annoyance at having been so far off the mark, he closed the distance between them and gathered the three darts piercing her right areola into a handful. He squeezed the darts together, mashing the tip of her breast between them. Adding insult to injury, he twisted the compressed flesh in a half turn before he yanked them out. The elastic skin that did such a good job of sealing around the darts now worked to hold on to the steel that plugged her wounds. Her breast stretched and then snapped back when the darts ripped free.
She slammed her eyes shut, her low groan quickly increasing in pitch to a muffled squeal as three stains of blood darkened the white cloth and a climax seized her almost out of nowhere.
Unsure of what else to do while she shuddered and moaned, he yanked the second set of darts from her other breast. The cloth was now only half white with large, irregular circles of crimson spreading to take over the rest. Deciding he was ready to see them in all their glory, he grabbed the bikini between her breasts, twisted it around his hand, and tore it off. Breasts still bobbling, her breaths coming in slow gasps, she managed to stare through half-lidded eyes, watching the blood slowly pool inside the puckered crevices of her areola then wind down, spilling over the last hard wrinkles to trickle over the undersides of her breasts.
Leaving her to the final throes of her orgasm, he ran to the kitchen to get a spool of white cord from the junk drawer.
By the time he got back, she’d settled into more hip-rolling. Taking four darts with him, he moved quietly between her legs and pressed his thigh hard against her pussy. She gasped in surprise, not even realizing he was there, but wasted no time pressing back against his bare, muscled leg as best as she could.
Taking advantage of the added distraction, he pinched her left nipple tightly and started pricking the creases in her areola with the tip of a dart, lightly at first, then harder as she started responding more. He moved from place to place, keeping her off guard, leaving dozens of tiny scratches and pinpricks in his wake. When she was close to yet another climax, he thought about pressing the dart’s sharp tip into the tiny hollow at the very end of her nipple and skewering it lengthwise, but decided there might be a limit to her masochistic desires.
Instead, with her pleasure at its peak, he snagged the smaller of the two vacant piercing holes with the dart tip and slowly started pushing. Since the dart was at least twice as thick as the thin hoop had been, the sensitive skin resisted. He pinched her nipple harder and pushed, slowly forcing the wide shaft through the hole. Yet again, her husky moan began to rise in pitch the deeper the dart went, not quite breaking into a wail. She was all but crushing his thigh with hers, shoving herself so hard against him he could feel the vibrator through her soft pussy lips. Once the point reappeared, her breathing started to even out, at which time he shoved the dart the rest of the way through with one last, brutal push.
She was well into another noisy climax by the time he’d started on the other nipple. While she was wrapped up in her orgasm, he simply rammed it through the other hole. Surprisingly, her reaction wasn’t nearly as extreme as he’d expected. He assumed her immediate, violent hip thrust was more a result of renewed pleasure than pain.
Working quickly while she coped, he looped a slip knot around the outside of the first dart-turned-skewer and tied the cord around either side of the dart. After tying it off, he tugged; lifting the dart shaft sideways, stretching her breast by the areola into a cone. Enough force would tear her tender flesh just like yanking on a nipple ring. Banking on that, he threw the loose end of the cord over the rafter, caught it, and hauled.
The tip of her breast stretched up toward the ceiling. He kept pulling until the underside was tight and he thought something might give. The pierce hole was stretched wide enough to almost see through. He gauged when to stop by the pitch of her groan.
He gave her other nipple the same treatment, tying the cord around the dart on either side of her nipple and yanking her breast toward the rafter by the makeshift piercing before tying it off. While she did her best to hold herself up by the wrists to keep the tips of her breasts intact, he stuck three fingers inside her and pulled the egg free with a silent pop.
Tossing it to the floor, he spread her legs as wide as they’d go and filled his hands with her butt cheeks. Raking his fingernails across her smooth skin, he crushed her bottom in his fingers and lifted her up. Her high pitched whimper dropped to a relieved groan as the pressure on her tortured nipples lessened.
Her next sound was a confused mix of hot satisfaction as he lowered her slippery pussy down onto his thick cock while cruelly stretching her nipples again. Despite the torment, she was more than wet enough for him to slide freely. Her satisfaction was apparent, even with her skewered tits once again bearing her weight, or maybe because of it.
Using her as a full-sized fuck toy, he lifted her up and down, pumping her pussy at the same time as he made her tits into a pair of bellows. After a couple of minutes of lifting her up and down, he realized it was more exercise than he thought. He let her hang; her breasts stretching into cones, her areola looking like taffy in a puller. Flexing his knees, he lowered himself then rammed into her with a wet slap, lifting her several inches before flexing down and back up again. Too distracted by the brutal fucking to support herself, she groaned as her dart-spit breasts rippled and her skewered nipples distended again.
By the third wet smack, his penis was tingling. She’d closed her eyes and settled into a cadence of throaty whimpers and moans, with the moans growing increasingly loud. When he knew they were only seconds away, he grabbed the other two darts from behind his ears and rammed them straight through the bottoms of her areola. She screamed at the same time as her pussy crushed his cock, and they both started to come. Barely able to keep his feet, he pounded into her, wet slaps echoing through the room, and yanked the two darts free with a vicious tug.
Her orgasm outlasted his by at least a full minute. Wrung dry, he let his spent cock slide free as she climaxed herself out and hung limply, too drained or too unconcerned to keep her punctured breasts from bearing more than their share of her weight. He got the knife and dropped to his knees then, grabbing more handfuls of her lush ass, he pulled her vagina to his face and assaulted it with his mouth. Eating her out almost literally, he used lips and teeth and tongue, filling his mouth with her, probing deep with his tongue, sucking and nibbling on every fold with voracious enthusiasm. Drained or not, she responded eagerly, pressing herself back against his mouth as he gouged her labia with closing teeth and snagged the base of her throbbing clit between them.
Staring into her lower belly, he noticed streams of blood from her punctured breasts breaking up around her pubic hair, spreading into a thin flood of red around a forest of brown curls. He kept her clit trapped firmly in his teeth, loudly sucking up as much wet flesh around it as he could, licking and beating the tender button mercilessly with his tongue. It wasn’t more than a couple of minutes before she was coming again.
When she started the tell-tale, high pitched moan, he stood back up and slammed a bare thigh into her crotch, pressing it into her soaked pussy to keep her going. After giving her a few seconds to adjust to the change in stimulation, he sliced through all the ropes that held her wrists and thighs and let her slide down his thigh.
As the orgasm ripped figuratively through her body the darts threatened to tear literally through her flesh and split her nipples like butter. At the last possible second, he sliced through the two cords holding them. They snapped upward and slung through the air, leaving her tits to snap back, bouncing for the umpteenth time. Despite the torture, it had been the loudest orgasm of the evening, and it was all hers.
He slid her the rest of the way down his leg and lowered her to the floor, then brushed the hair from her face, stroking it until she stopped whimpering…and coming. His cock was sore and limp, almost raw.
Tearing his gaze from her tits, he brushed a sweat-soaked lock of hair from her face and hesitantly looked at her eyes. Tired, tear-stained and mascara-smeared, they were looking back at him. She smiled and managed a mischievous wink before settling back onto the carpet and falling asleep.
~~~
After letting him massage her breasts with alcohol, she winced only a bit as she slipped a golden hoop through its abused little hole. The four small barbell balls were already snug in their cushions of rose-colored wrinkles. “So, throw three for dinner?”
He looked up from buttoning his jeans, brow raised. “Are you nuts or just a glutton for punishment?”
She slipped the second loop into place and swept three darts from the table. “Are you scared?”
He shrugged and grabbed the other three. “It’s your pocket book. Do I get dessert?”
Cupping her breasts, she examined the assortment of wounds before letting them drop with a pleasant bounce. “Sure. I’ll even pay for the whipped cream…if you’re up for it.” She looked at his dart board. “Boy’s first.”
Doing his best to ignore her as she bounced lightly on her toes, he threw three times in relatively quick succession. The darts thunked one after another, two in the outer bull and one high in the double bull’s eye. “Outback’s good for me. I don’t want to break you,” he said with a cocky grin.
She stepped up to the line and gauged the distance. Then, while absently working her t-shirt over her head with one hand, she tossed her darts with the other. Each one buried to the hilt all but dead center in the double bull for a perfect round. She pulled her t-shirt the rest of the way down over her braless breasts, stretching the bat symbol tight, then snatched up her purse and headed for the door.
“By the way, WDF World Cup females champion four years running. You ought to think about going pro. You’re not bad.” She gave him her patented mischievous wink. “I was thinking Ruth’s Chris. Filet minion, raw and bawlin’. I’ll meet you back here in thirty minutes.”
She started out the door, but stopped and peeked back in. “Oh, and you can drive.”
In the grand scheme of Las Vegas casinos, The Sin did a booming business. Even paying off 75% to 95% of its winnings as the law required left it with money to burn. Its biggest draw wasn’t that it was the newest and shiniest; it was its gimmick. Unlike other casinos that were shaped like ancient Egyptian wonders of the world or that featured albino tigers that occasionally got out of hand, The Sin gave its customers something they could sink their teeth into. The Sin was the first to pay out girls instead of cash, at least for its most popular jackpot—The Triple Nipple.
In order to avoid falling under the tax codes for brothels, the number of girls The Sin was able to ‘pay out’ was limited, so lines for Trip Nips were long. Long lines or not, The Sin’s odds were fairly generous. At only 64 virtual stops per reel, the chances of hitting three nipples in a row was only 1 in 262,144. You didn’t get better odds anywhere else.
As often as the wheels spun, there were typically a couple winners a month. Between the machines’ odds, the odds of actually getting on a machine, and the girls’ short fifteen minute ‘dance’ schedules, the actual chances of landing a particular girl, however, were slim to none. For that reason, most of the people that played the slots didn't care which girls were manacled to the pillars when they pulled the arm, just as long as three nipples spun into place and the lights started flashing.
Brandon Edwards began as one of those. He’d come to The Sin on a lark, simply wanting to check out Vegas' newest headliner casino, drop a few bucks, and head back to the Mirage where he was staying. He'd done quite well on the quarter slots at the Mirage, but he could hardly afford the one dollar and up machines that were The Sin's staples. Despite his relative lack of spending capital, no red-blooded man could make it out of Vegas without trying for a Triple Nipple if he didn’t want to hear about it from his friends when he got home, even at five bucks a spin.
Brandon was no exception. He figured fifty or a hundred bucks couldn't hurt if it would save him some humiliation. Besides, win or not, it was good entertainment. They displayed their girls, wrists tied to poles or hung from ceiling hooks, where everyone playing the slots could watch. Mostly naked, the women writhed, breasts bouncing and bottoms shaking, to a background of loud music, swaying palm trees and waterfalls. Even if it was a marketing ploy to keep patrons spending, Brandon enjoyed the ambiance.
It took less than thirty minutes to get to the last of the twenty bills he'd reserved for his manly excursion. He was sliding his final five in just as one of the handlers brought the next girl in the rotation out. As she was paraded directly past him, Brandon eyes fell on the two hard, purple nipples that bulged from the crushing jaws of flat, silver presses connected by a sterling silver chain. The clamps, the stiff victims of the clamping, and their ruddy surroundings stuck out from openings cut from some kind of self-sticking silver and black floral bikini top.
The breast appliques and a nearly non-existent pair of matching panties were part of a scant outfit complemented by a silver and onyx choker and earrings. An open-front, translucent, black, long-sleeved cover-up did little to cover anything up, but added to the overall effect nicely. All this registered subconsciously as his conscious was busy checking to make certain that his rock hard erection wasn't obvious to the entire world.
While Brandon's eyes worked their way up and down the new scenery, the casino slave’s handler manacled her wrists to an overhead hook in the low ceiling above the balcony just a few feet away. Brandon had hoped they’d replace the skanky little redhead that had hung there the fifteen minutes prior with someone hotter, but he had no clue they’d do so well.
The handler tightened her ball-gag, tugged a bit on the chain so that her breasts would bounce for the customers, spanked her bottom so it would jiggle, and left her to writhe. Brandon was so transfixed by the bouncing and jiggling, as well as the way her clamped nipples played peek-a-boo through her long, wavy, chestnut hair, he hadn't even noticed he’d won a twenty-dollar pay-off. By the time he made it up to up to her bright red lips and sultry emerald eyes, he knew he was in trouble.
~~~
That was eighteen hours, $455.00, and several rotations of "Chantile" earlier.
During the hour and forty-five minutes that Brandon had between rotations, he sometimes dozed, slowly nursed drinks and occasionally chatted with other patrons of Las Vegas' most controversial new addition. After years of trying to "clean up its act," Vegas' fathers were less than pleased at the latest casino. That was until they found that it kept its dirt nice and tidy, paid well into the gambling capital's coffers, and single-handedly increased Vegas’ tourism by five percent in its first year.
Now that he'd spent almost a fourth of his vacation inside the same room, and burned far more than his allotment of spending money, Brandon understood exactly why The Sin did so well. He wasn't the only patron that had set his sights on a particular target. That was the casino’s plan. Whether it was in the "Bee and Dee" room, the "Watersports", "Schoolgirls", "Dog and Ponygirl", "Vanilla," or any of the seven less controversial theme rooms, they each had their special girls.
Many of them had regulars who followed her from post to pillar to overhead hook, praying for the right slot machine to pay off big. If the Triple Nipple hit in the Bee and Dee, the winner won a barely chaperoned evening of personalized bondage and torment with his or her choice of the four girls that happened to be on display when the bells and whistles sounded. It was up to the patron whether he or she was on the giving or receiving end.
Brandon knew he had little to no chance of winning. In fact, he figured he'd leave Vegas with his bank account drained thanks to his plastic Wells Fargo ATM card. He also knew that a chance at Chantile was worth an empty checking account and his missing the Vegas version of The Lion King, The Blue Man Group and Cirque du Soleil.
At fifteen past three in the morning, Brandon was close to nodding off when Chantile's handler escorted her back out. She was wearing the same outfit and accessories, tight screw clamps flattening each of her pert nipples, making them several shades darker than nature had intended. Brandon was anxiously pulling the black-knobbed arm of the slot nearest her pillar before the first manacle was secure.
She caught his eye from her place above the corner of the bank of slot machines he played on and gave him a sultry wink and a personal shimmy. His cock almost sprung from his pants. She'd done the same thing her last three rotations, probably part of the game plan once a loyal mark was on the hook, but he chose to think that, were it not for the white ball gag, she'd have given him some sincere verbal encouragement as well.
For ten minutes, Brandon alternated between pulling the arm and contemplating the things he’d like to do to Chantile if he actually won. After one small win, he looked at her again and noticed that she seemed to be bouncing her tits just a little more anxiously, possibly because her nipples were the darkest color Brandon had seen since his infatuation began. Maybe she thought the centrifugal force of bouncing them might force some blood past the overly tightened clamps.
Sleep deprived, it was easy for him to be hypnotized by Chantile’s swaying breasts and the gleam of silver on her nipples. It wasn’t until the sound of bells and the flash of yellow and blue rotating lights pulled Brandon's attention back to his machine that he was able to look away from her. Four other people were already at his side by the time he focused on the three pictures that had locked in front of him—three gorgeous, identical pictures of the pert Sin nipple.
Unable to believe it, Brandon felt his head begin to spin. He started to slump to one side until one of the bystanders grabbed his arms and held him until he caught his breath. Once the swoon passed, he gaped up at Chantile while a couple of suit-and-tied security men moved in ahead of the gathering crowd. She was staring at the machine as if it had sprouted heads, her overly constricted nipples apparently forgotten.
Once one of the early morning casino managers made it to the scene, smiling almost as much as Brandon, the lucky winner had no choice but turn his attention back to business. After a few moments of formal photographs and social niceties, one of the handlers brought Chantile through the crowd. A jackpot at The Sin was always a spectacle.
They quickly ushered Brandon and his winnings down a nearby hallway away from the throng. Once they were free of the crowd, the casino manager gestured toward the mostly-naked woman. "Care to lead her back to the office so we can take care of some routine paperwork?"
Brandon looked from the manager to Chantile, who was looking from the manager to Brandon. He nodded numbly and reached for her manacled hands, but stopped as everyone but Chantile and he chuckled knowingly at each other. Her handler grabbed the nipple chain and held it out to Brandon, smiling magnanimously.
"She's your slave now, Brandon. Why don't you start having some fun?"
To a round of applause and catcalls from a couple of inebriated passersby, Brandon took the chain. The first of many of those earlier fantasies became reality as, flanked by security, he moved in behind the manager and tugged, canting Chantile's clamped nipples and stretching them out before she stumbled forward to follow.
Two minutes later, he found himself inside a plush office filling out forms and waivers, agreeing on lump sum cash payouts in addition to Chantile and deciding between a leather bound photo album or a CD to go with the high-definition DVD they’d be filming. Chantile stood over his shoulder the entire time, more often than not brushing or pressing her breasts somewhere pleasant. Maybe it was all for show, but it was one of the best he’d ever experienced.
Once Brandon finally made his choices, they all left him with a glass of wine and hors d'oeuvres and went to put together a party plan. After another fifteen minutes, Chantile's handler walked back in, his charge in tow. He handed Brandon the party itinerary. It was written on fine stationery, but Brandon wouldn't have cared if it had been on toilet paper. It read like every man's wet dream.
After giving Brandon time to drool, the man holding Chantile's wrists behind her extended his right hand. "My name's Thomas. I'm Chantile's master for The Sin." Brandon shook his hand firmly enough and turned his attention to the woman.
While the winner admired his prize, Thomas went on with what sounded like a well-rehearsed, canned speech. "From now until your contract expires, you’re Chantile’s new Master. I'm just here as a guide. She’s your property. She exists solely for your pleasure.” He paused and ad libbed, “She’s fairly new here, never been won, so she finally gets to earn those big bucks she’s been paid."
Brandon noticed that Chantile was watching her “Master.” She wasn’t quite hiding a look of apprehension.
Back on script, Thomas continued. "Like any valuable property, you’ll want to take care of her, so there are some things you won't want to do." Thomas balled his fist and pressed it firmly, but slowly into the center of her breast. "No hitting with the closed fist or anything that might cause internal damage." He slapped her tit with his open hand. “Slapping’s just fine, except for her face.”
Thomas smiled slightly when she cried out, and then spanked her bottom, apparently just for the hell of it. Brandon had no doubt that Thomas was enjoying himself with the new ‘slave’ almost as much as Brandon was going to enjoy himself. He figured it was one of the perks of the job.
"You can be as rough as you want as long as she doesn’t need any medical attention afterward. No bruises, at least no lasting ones, no cuts that’ll scar or require stitches, that kind of stuff. You’ll have all sorts of play toys, but feel free to use what God gave you if you want." He punctuated his last words with an encouraging snap of his teeth.
Brandon nodded dumbly and watched as Chantile's Master grabbed the tip of her right breast, dragging a fingernail across her areola until his fingertips latched onto her nipple.
"Since you said you’re a tit man by preference, we encourage you to enjoy these…” He twisted the tip of her breast like a corkscrew. “…as freely as you want, they’re tougher than she’ll let on. If you use clamps and stuff just make sure not to leave ‘em on too long," Thomas stood back away from the "slave" and threw his hands up in a shrug. "But otherwise, the sky's the limit. Same goes for her other parts if you want. Oh, and sex goes without saying any time you like. Questions?"
Brandon opened his mouth and closed it, still all but dumbfounded. He finally just shook his head.
Having finished his spiel, Thomas handed Brandon a rectangular key-card. "This is to room 215. Go on and crash, we'll see you there at six."
Five minutes later, Brandon walked through the eight-foot tall gold inlaid double-doors into the lavish suite. Ignoring the vaulted ceilings, marble fireplace, original paintings and blue velvet accessories, he collapsed in an exhausted heap face first onto the huge king-sized four-poster bed, passing from one dream world into the next.
~~~
Even with the lush accommodations, Brandon only managed about four hours of fitful sleep before tossing the blue, silken sheets aside. He indulged in a cup of Kona and a long waterfall shower then slipped into one of the hotel’s thick waffled robes and poured a second cup. Between the caffeine and his nerves, he thought anyone on the floor below him might hear him tapping his feet. He had all but paced a swath in the carpet before finally settling into a long stare out the bay window when a firm rap sounded through the door.
He nearly tripped over himself getting to it. Once he flung the door open, he was met by four people. The manager, a videographer who was in the process of filming every pore on Brandon's face, Thomas, and the star of the show all stood ready and mostly willing. Chantile was dressed in a black jacquard ribbed-corset that barely covered her nipples and the bottom half of her aureoles. Wonderfully tight, wrinkled rosy-brown half-circles peeked out the top.
Her legs, stretched nicely thanks to six-inch platform heels, were sheathed in thigh-high black hose hooked to garter straps that strained up to the bottom of the corset. A black ball gag sporting the Nipple logo was nestled tightly between her teeth, held in place with black satin ties. A thin trickle of drool was working its way down her chin. The outfit was capped in true Las Vegas style with a black feather boa draped over her shoulders. Besides some well-trimmed, dark brown curls, there was nothing else to block the view between the corset and the hose, and the pubic hair covered very little.
When she saw Brandon's grin, Chantile gave him a tentative smile. Though he wanted desperately to believe she was looking forward to a couple of hours with a handsome stud, he figured it was likely due to some combination of the bonus she was getting paid for the party and a demure attempt to get him to go easy on her. Since the bonus was being covered by the casino, and he had already decide that he was going to stretch the rules as far as Thomas would allow, Brandon smiled brightly at the video camera, eagerly anticipating the next couple of hours.
He quickly stepped aside and let everyone in, looking over the silver tray that Thomas carried in as he walked by. He imagined each of the clamps and loops, bands, chains and tape, whips and oils in their rightful place on Chantile's body. His cock bounced to attention in time with the latching of the door.
"If you'd like to choose a nipple chain, Brandon, we'll take a bit of video and then leave you to Chantile and her handler."
Brandon nodded at the casino manager. His "kid in a candy shop" mentality kicking in as he surveyed the goodies on the tray.
The master pointed to a thin golden wire chain with small bells that ended in wicked looking wire loops and smiled at Brandon. "In my opinion, that’s the best one. The wires cut into the nipples and make them a nice bulging purple, if you’d like to start there.”
When Thomas actually suggested something that sounded as if it was going to choke her nipples blue, Brandon grinned again. He certainly didn't need his arm twisted. While he toyed with the chain, Chantile meekly allowed her handler to tie blue satin ropes around each of her wrists. Thomas led her to the west wall where he slipped a large tapestry from its hangers. After gently pushing her backward against the wall, he tossed the ropes over the well-camouflaged hooks and hauled. As her arms stretched higher, her breasts rose and flattened a bit into fat ovals, their hard, wrinkled tips sliding completely out from under the corset. When she started to rise up onto her toes, Thomas deftly tied off the ropes, effectively holding her in place on the balls of her feet.
With Chantile helpless, Thomas undid the top few hooks of the corset and folded it down until her full breasts and upper chest were completely exposed. The handler started to reach for the golden-belled chain, but stopped and gestured to Chantile’s chest with a flourish.
“Please, be my guest.”
Chantile thrust her breasts forward as best as she could, giving Brandon easy access to her stiff, purple-red nipples. Licking his lips at the sight her puckered oval aureoles just inches from his mouth, he looped the right nipple and tugged the hardened nub through the wire with his fingertips. Tentatively, he slid the golden bead that closed the loop up until it squeezed into the crinkled areola just at its base.
Thomas was looking on, his brows drawn into a somewhat surprised frown. “Is that as tight as you want it?”
“I thought…the blood flow…”
“Oh, that.” Thomas smiled knowingly. “Yank it tight, dude. They’ll recover.”
Brandon didn’t need to be told twice. He repositioned his fingers and shoved the bead, forcing the wire to bite deeply into the trapped nipple, drawing a yelp from Chantile. After the videographer moved in for a close-up, Brandon strangled her other nipple the same way. In just a few seconds, they were a far angrier red.
While his slave eyed her choked flesh, Thomas pulled the chain up to her mouth. "Now, show your new master what he can to with his new toy."