My strict master had ordered me to prepare myself for picking him up at the airport by binding my nipples with rubber bands and to present them braless beneath a tight white tee.
Naturally I did as I was told. ... But do you have any idea how long waiting for him to get off the plane was? Not only does waiting always seem long, but with men ogling my 36F's it's twice as long... Then double it again when you factor in the pain of a pair of tightly bound nipples.
When Master got off the plane, he was quite pleased with himself for the attention I was getting. He gave me a big bear hug — one part welcome, one part claiming his property. When I stiffened with the pain of having my bound nipples pressed so tightly up against his chest, he mocked in my ear, "Not happy to see me? Or just too sensitive, my slut?" My deepening blush was his answer.
"To the baggage carousel — and other amusement rides," he said grabbing my hand and half-dragging me along to match his big strides.
Once we got to the car, Master slid into the driver's seat and started teasing both my tormented nipples through the t-shirt with his fingertips — his pleasure doubled when such touches made me whimper.
"Time for a nice drive in the country," he declared with a gleam in his eyes. I had no idea what he was up to until miles later he turned onto a stretch of unpaved gravel farm roads and began hitting every rut and hole with glee. I was forbidden to hold or otherwise prevent my breasts from bouncing and swaying. He needn't take his eyes off the road to know of my pain, but he enjoyed the braless tit bouncing that caused my groans. If his driving was reckless (fast, eyes not on the road), things were only going to get more-so.
After a few miles, he pulled over to the side of a long stretch of gravel road and told me to remove my shirt. As I prepared to lift it off over my head, I looked around nervously for a farmer or signs of humanity; there was none.
Not outside the car — not in it, either.
There, in broad daylight, he once again took great delight in using his fingers to apply not only touches but real pressure. He pinched and twisted 'til tears rolled down my cheeks. And he still wasn't done.
He parted his lips — first in a big grin, and then in a terrifying gape as he carnivorously bent over my left breast and rolled the round red nub of nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth — and then between his teeth... Slowly increasing the pressure until he had a full bite. I went from moans and whines to yelping. His response was to bite it again and again, enjoying my yelps, and then slowly chewing along the hot bud, like he was savoring a fine meal.
Once satisfied with that one, he turned his attention — and his teeth — to the right nipple, abusing it as he had the first. Back and forth between the two he went until I was sobbing with tears streaming down my face.
He paused, sat still just looking at my face and for a minute and I thought he might kiss me, but instead he just stared intently into my weeping eyes and slowly reached for my agonized left breast, preparing to free the nipple...
He slowly removed the rubber band from my left nipple — I screamed.
Master unzipped his pants and pulled out his huge erect cock in reply.
Then he looked menacingly at the right nipple. My hands instinctively flew up to protect the nipple from the pain of release from the tight rubber band, but he just twisted the left one hard and growled, "Hands down, my cunt."
My hands flew down, out of the way.
"Speaking of my cunt... How wet is it?" he said as his fingers dove beneath the hem of my short khaki skirt. "Now, just look at that," he knowingly mocked, holding up two wet fingers full of evidence, "See what a slut you are? No sense in denying it now."
He reached for and released the right nipple — to the same loud shrill scream and tears as the the other one had.
Rolling my left nipple between his right thumb and fingertips, Master lowered his head to my left breast and slowly sucked the nipple into his mouth. Accompanied by my gasps and wails, he continued to suck that nipple with great force while his hand exploited the other nipple... Rolls turned to pinches, pinches to twists, until the pain was so intense that my fight or flight response kicked in and my body bucked to get him off of me, to get some relief. Master's response was to place both hands on my arms to keep me still while he turned his oral attentions to the left nipple.
My legs began to tremble and my breathing was rough, my mouth and throat dry, from crying and screaming when he finally stopped.
As I sat panting, he opened the car door. "Get the lube from the glove box and sit on the hood."
Shaking and sniffling, I opened the glove box and fished out the bottle of lube, then scrambled to join him outside the car. While Master stood with his arms folded, his erect dick sticking out of his unzippered pants, I sat myself down before him on the car's hood.
There, sitting topless on the hood of the car with sunlight streaming down all around me, he removed his belt, folded it in half, and began to color my breasts pink.
First he concentrated on applying the belt to the tops of my tits, above the areolas. My hands gripped the tops of my shaking thighs as I fought to remain still, avoiding the impulse to get up and flee before he took that belt to my nipples.
I tried to concentrate on the rhythmic belting and tune out the hot stinging, but then Master stopped, stepped to his right to work over the outside of my left breast and my concentration was broken — just those few seconds and everything I'd nearly blocked out came rushing in. The heat, the pain... The fear of what would come next. I looked at his face, his brow furrowed just a bit in concentration, but mostly he just looked pleased. I tried to focus on that — on how all of this was worth it for his happiness.
When Master stepped to his left to color the outside of my right breast, his eyes met mine and he wiggled his brows playfully before getting lost in his delight at coloring and marking my breast. In that moment he reminded me of a child who smiles and waves at his mother on the front porch as he zooms by on his bike. Such thoughts of his pure happiness might even have made me smile softly.
But it was a brief haven.
His harsh command broke my reverie. "Hold your tits up, nipples, out — present them as gifts to me and my belt."
The moment I'd been dreading.
I took a deep ragged breath in, placed my hands beneath my breasts, and lifted them up and out — and arching my back as I'd been trained to do.
Master was slowly rubbing his hard cock, looking at his handiwork on my rack. "I'm not gonna kid you, slut; this is gonna hurt like hell. But it's got to be done — I've been thinking of doing this for hours, including a long annoying flight. It — I — can't be stopped. So sit still and take it, like a good girl. And remember, if you move, you might just end up losing one of those pretty nipples of yours..."
I nodded, biting my lower lip. And then braced myself for what was to come.
