Copyright 2017 Matt Nicholson. All rights reserved.
Disclaimer - This story stretches the definitions of both "safe" and "sane." It's a fantasy story, not headline news. If you're not into hard breast punishment fantasies, please go find something lighter. I really don't want anyone feeling like they've lost part of their lives. On the other hand, you enjoy such tales, I think you'll be very happy with this little game of darts. It's not something I'd recommend for real, but there's no harm in dreaming. In any case, please let me know what you think. Best! ~Matt~
*
"Really?!" He didn't bother trying to hide 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 better lines for that. It was more a blind shot in the dark at fantasy wish-fulfillment. He'd been staring at her tits all night. Hardly covered by a lacy, low-cut bra and barely hidden behind an open white denim jacket, she'd flashed nipple his way so many times his dick was petrified. When she'd turned smart-assy about his dart skills, it just came out. He didn't even know her name.
Now, with success potentially staring him in the face, he wasn't certain he could believe it. He looked from her face to her white, denim-framed, cleavage. With some effort, he managed to look back up at her face.
"Have you been
watching
me?"
She tossed her long, blonde hair 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. You're not that good."
He hadn't mentioned his plans to take her home, yet -- just the dartboard part. He'd never gotten far enough to discuss what might happen after the contest, so he was still shocked she'd said "yes."
"Okay...and if I lose?" He held his breath, waiting for the kicker. There had to be a catch.
"Dinner's on you. My choice. Sky's the limit."
He'd expected her to say something like, "I get to use your balls as dartboards." Though he could think of some pretty expensive 'skies', a steep dinner was a lot better than he'd expected. Still skeptical, though, he had to ask, "Is this some kind of set up? You're a cop, right?"
She laughed again and unbuttoned another button. "Would a cop do this..."
When his eyes settled back on her chest, she yanked the jacket open and pulled the bra cups down, exposing every inch of her breasts and 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 into mouth-watering wrinkles and bumps.
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 tits-as-dartboards might look. He caught himself absently licking his lips as her breasts disappeared back behind her top, well before anyone else saw them. He hadn't missed the fact that she'd left the cups pulled down, though.
"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 in his mind. Still incredulous, he nodded, completely willing to risk just about anything to see those tits again.
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 darts just inside the outer bull. Though they were the only two people that knew what was riding on the last dart, a couple dozen people watched, knowing something big was in play. She took a breath, held it, and threw. The dart crossed fourteen feet in a half-second. It stuck wide of the outer bull by almost an inch.
Having backed the hot chick with nice boobs, the crowd groaned. She just smiled, shrugged, and surreptitiously pulled the flimsy bra cups back up. 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 from a sturdy rustic cedar rafter in his sun lit game room with her back against his dart board.
She'd passed on his offers of both a gag and a blindfold, but insisted on keeping her skimpy underwear, at least for a while. She'd thrown both her jacket and her Daisy Dukes across the room. The lace 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 exposed that the lingerie top was little more than decoration. He changed the jiggling mounds into miniature dart boards in his mind, imagining concentric circles drawn around her nipples, areolas and further out across the full, creamy mounds.
Her arms were stretched up toward the ceiling, wrists together. He'd wrapped several loops of the faux satin rope around her thighs and pulled her legs up into something of a spread-eagle sitting position so her knees stuck out at wide angles from her hips. In a practical sense, the rope supported her weight and having them spread kept her legs safe from any dropping darts. Later, once the skimpy triangle of white, lace thong covering it was gone, every detail of her pussy's slippery folds—or what he hoped would be slippery folds—would be showing.
With her arms pulled up, her breasts stretched up a bit, giving them a slight oval shape. He'd centered her so her nipples were as close to regulation bull's-eye height as he could get them. Since one breast was a bit larger than the other, he split the difference, 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 only a third the width of a regulation bristle board, her nipples were the perfect size for a double bull's eye. As long as they stayed rigid, her areolas were only about an inch wider than an outer bull ring. Given his skill, he'd need no more "dartboard" 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 gauged a throwing line seven feet, nine-plus inches from her nipples. After wiping the tips of his darts with alcohol, he took a throwing stance behind the line and eyed the smaller of the two breasts.
He was taking aim when he realized that, sometime between his God-sent win at the pub 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 quite 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. She was going to back out; he knew it.
"In my purse, there's an egg..."
Curious, he went to the table where she'd left her canvas tote and looked inside it. On top of the usual assortment of purse contents 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 playful 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. Her full labia peeked 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