Breast Spaning?

Breast spanking? Is that a thing? It sounds rude and painful. Who would slap these pretty breasts? It seems hateful. Spanking an ass is fine. Asses can take it. You have to give a pretty hard spank for it to even feel anything. But soft, tender breasts? Hitting delicate nipples? Noooooooo.

Why am I even doing this, I think, as I snuggle under the covers on this frigid night. Just because a random stranger tells me to? I close my eyes. I was tired and sleepy, and it feels good to rest on the pillows. And then an image comes to mind. Hands bound behind me, my back must arch. My chest is pushed out, breasts exposed. I am in a pool of light. Beyond the light, He waits, watching.

Spank your own breasts.

That's humiliating. I can't do that. He is the one in the power position, he should be the one to do it. Although, that's also scary. But he must know where to slap. And when.

I imagine him stepping into the circle of light, assessing my body, and where he should strike. I shiver with anticipation...and a little cold. My breasts seem to not know what's going on -- they seem to bloom toward him like sunflowers to the sun. He sees that and reaches out to stroke one -- and then -- Slap! -- Slap! -- Slap! -- Slap! My left breast tingles and the tingles spread over my flesh and sparkle within my nipple. A fire licks down from my hot breast to my pussy. Mmmmmmmmmmm! I like it? -- No! I mustn't! Before I can object, he reaches for the other breast. -- Slap! -- Slap! -- Slap! -- Slap! My breasts are now both buzzing. And I want more.

It's just a fantasy. No one has smacked my breasts. I'm still in my bed, alone. But my pussy is throbbing. I spread my pussy lips to find a wet honey pot. I do like it. I like the idea. But isn't it silly to do it to myself? Running around the apartment tying myself up and hitting myself? Its not dignified. But he asked me to. He is expecting me to. There is a magnetic pull in my womb when I think of obeying him.

I am not sleepy any more. It's late. But my pussy is on alert, my nipples are hard. What do you want? I think. I push the covers down and lift my cosy hoodie, exposing my breasts to the cool night air. I stroke my breasts fondly. And then I try a little slap. It doesn't hurt. I try again. And again. Light, fast spanks. Oh! A burst of sparkles spread around my breast. Spank the other one. Light, fast spanks on the other one. Flames are licking around my chest. But it doesn't hurt. Again. More. My heart is thumping. My hoodie is in the way. The covers are in the way. Against my better judgment and all at once, I throw off the covers and pull off my hoodie. The cold air eagerly spreads its fingers around my breasts, and I slap those fingers away. I watch myself in the mirror as I try slapping from different angles. The flat palm hitting my nipple in the center seems the most effective. My breasts sway and jiggle with the force, and they blush pink from the contact. Again a rush to my pussy, but I mustn't satisfy myself until he gives me permission.

In the bathroom light, I see pink roses blooming on my breasts. They are tender now, but buzzing. I take a picture as proof. They look pretty that way.

I'll give them a break. And smack my own ass.

The smack is loud. If anyone were outside they could hear it. Again, and again. Too loud. And its too hard to reach. My eyes land on my bamboo back scratcher. It's the perfect length and weight. I reach around and SMACK. The slim line cuts across my cheeks and lights up. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. My thighs quiver. (If he doesn't do it too hard, I could take more of this). SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. I take a picture.

My clit is hot and hard. I am getting out of control. Where is that rope? I have to tie my pussy down or I can't cope. I quickly place the strap between my legs, opening my pussy lips and press the dry, bumpy belt onto my throbbing wet pussy. I tug hard, and with shaking hands secure it to my waist.

Slap, smack, slap, smack! I imagine him taking the bamboo away from me and stroking my now-burning breasts. He strokes them gently, and kisses them. He asks me if I like that. I nod wordlessly. He says, Say it. I say, I like it. He says, How much? I say, I love it. And he smacks each breast, I don't know how many times. Light but firm, and now I'm rocking with sensation, the cramp in my womb demanding to be opened and stretched, penetrated. Throbbing and throbbing.

In my mind's eye, I see him notice my quivering pussy. He places his calm, cool palm on my clit, holding my whole pussy in his hand. Like a driver with his hand on the stick shift, holding, waiting for the right moment to shift gears, he holds me in suspension, gazing steadily in my confused eyes.

All at once he pierces my cunt with his middle finger, digging deep into the fleshy wet cave. Swirling and twisting. My pussy pulsates with delight, but suddenly, he pulls my pussy hard, forward, and like a dog on a leash, I must follow him. There is a bench at the edge of the light. I don't know how he does it, but in one move, I am face down, bottom up on his lap. His bare hand strikes down, first on the big fat globes of flesh, but then closer to the base of my legs. I squirm and protest, but he holds me down, delivering a few blows that really sting. I cry out.

Shhhhhhh! Do you want everyone to hear? Are you that much of a slut, you want the neighbours to know? I don't...and I do. Why this crazy feeling of exhibition? Not the neighbours, no. But does he have friends who are watching outside the circle of light? Stop this! I am heading into subspace where society's norms disappear.

Breathing harder, I check the rope with my fingers, and it is buried in my flesh. My lips wrap around it like lovers who kiss. I feel the rope stretching and pulling across my vagina and digging into my ass. I pull it tight again, and reach for the vibrator. I don't expose my clit, I just jam it against the rope and the buzz can be felt deep inside. I need -- need --

Stop! He said, No. He said, You may not cum without my permission. The pleasure of submitting to that command washes over my whole being.

Shaking, I turn of the machine, unwrap my pussy (oww, the rope as dug in hard) and I slide between the sheets, hot and cold, satisfied and craving. I lie still, my hand holding my pussy safe, as I think about those dark eyes and soft voice. "That's my job" he says. The relief that he is in control relaxes me. The tension recedes, and I drop off to sleep.