Woodland Pleasures

You are kneeling naked in a wood. A slight breeze cools your exposed breasts. You are holding your hands behind your back. You are looking at a patch of wild grass and an old fallen tree. Sunlight dapples the scene. In other circumstances this would be a perfect place for a picnic, but these ideas seem a long way away now. An hour ago your boyfriend led you here blindfolded. You have no idea where you are, where he has left you, left you kneeling on damp earth, naked.

After removing the blindfold he instructed you to wait. He instructed you to sit on your heels and arch your back so that your torso is leans forward and your head is back up so that your tits (as he calls them) hang out in front of you, 'available' to any viewer.

You wait as instructed. You wait trying not to feel the mud under your knees, and trying not to feel the insects crawling over your legs. You spend some time learning how to arch your back correctly. When you arch your back correctly it is indeed easier to obey his instructions. When the curve of you back is 'just so', the weight of your breasts balance your held back head. To your surprise you find that can hold this pose for a long time. You don't know when he will return, so you concentrate on holding your breasts out and your head up. As you hold your heavy breasts out, displaying them, as per his instructions, they seem to be less and less your own. They are somehow not the breasts that you have used many a time seduce a man. More and more they seem to be your boyfriend's possessions. He has charge of them. You just hold them so that he can use them as he wishes. You imagine him crushing them between his strong fingers and thumbs, and you imagine him sucking hard your nipples which he calls 'teats'. Warm feelings happen between your legs.

The forest is quiet now, and you can hear the 'small' noises of the wood, the rustle of dry bracken as small creatures pass, the hoarse bark of a distant dog fox, and bird songs dominate the air. Your ankles hurt, your knees hurt, your back hurts, even though you hold your pose correctly. You wait. There is nowhere for you to go. And even if there was, you wouldn't disobey your boyfriend. The fox barks again, and still you wait, in pain, listening to the wildlife, anticipating what He might have in mind. You watch a mouse nibbling something; it scuttles down a hole and in a few moments, returns, oblivious of your presence. The pain has gone now and you are picturing about the mouse's simple life and it's small joys, when -- thump!

A hawk drops out of the sky, closing its talons round the tiny furry body. The hawk pauses for a moment, before flapping strongly and carrying the bundle of wriggling mouse up into the sky. The mouse's last squeak replays in your mind, a tear forms in your eye. Life in the wood continues. But wait, now something else is in the wood. You hear the clumsy 'crunch, crunch, crunch' of a human being approaching. But who is it? Is it your boyfriend, or is it a stranger? You pray 'Please, please God, let it be John,' you hold your breath, the tension is unbearable. The touch of a hand on your hair startles you. .

"Bring your hands up and forward. That's right, now use them to hold up your tits, good. Press them together," John speaks the commands in a low voice.

Silently, you thank God for letting it be John. You feel the weight of your breasts, the weight of the tits that are his possessions. A long thin twig appears in front of your eyes. Inwardly you shudder, but you know what to do. You press your lips to it and kiss its roughness. John removes it from your view.

"Head back slut," - thwickkk, thwickkk, thwickkk, thwickk,,, John brings down the flexible 'switch' on to your breasts again and again. Pain courses through them, but still you hold them up for the punishment. Holding your breasts for punishment is humiliating, wonderfully humiliating. You gasp with each blow. The pain is worst (but somehow so right) when the switch catches one of your nipples. You struggle to keep position, but as you keep your head up, you find yourself looking into your boyfriend's eyes. His eyes are not looking at yours though, John's eyes are concentrating on delivering the thrashing blows on to the throbbing burning breasts. You can see that he is enjoying seeing your breasts wobble and suffer. After some minutes, minutes that stretch out into a world of beautiful humiliation and wild pain... John ceases the switching. Your chest is heaving as you gasp for breath. John indicates by touching the tip of your nose with a switch to indicate that you should remain in position.

John disappears. You are left waiting in a strange silence. Your breasts' soreness starts to turn to heat, and in your mind, you think of John's pleasure at your suffering, you sense that he is very sexually aroused.

Without warning you find yourself blindfolded again. How he can move so quietly in this wood? Were you really so self-absorbed?

"Hands back behind your back slut," you comply, your hands joined as surely as if they were locked. Now you feel John's cool hands on your sore breasts cupping pressing, molding their soreness. Now you feel him press them together and something warm and hard pushes up from below. He pulls your nipples, then mashes breasts hard against your ribs, "ooooooh," he forces a long moan of pleasure from your lips, now he is thrusting up and down with his hard cock, its touch excites you, now John is moaning, "OOooh," and abruptly you feel his hot spunk pumping up the thick stem of his penis that encircled by your tender tortured tit flesh, you can feel each parcel of hot sperm forced up along the tiny tube inside his hard cock, you sense it spurting up and out into the cool woodland air before it falls back on to the welted surface of your breasts, again and again the seed is pumped under high pressure up into the air like a fountain only to fall back onto your sore tits, "Uggghhhhhuuuuuurrrghh aaaaaaaarrrgghh" John mouth emits series of long guttural moans.

John leans down and whispers into your ear, "you love it, you little slut, I am too good to you."

"Yes Sir, thank you Sir," and you really do feel grateful. You are loving stinging sensation as John's salty sperm seeps into welts left by the switch on the upper slopes of your breasts. You feel it slowing dripping down before dripping cold down on to your legs.

John moves away. You concentrate on the stinging sensation of his sperm in the multitude of abrasions on your breasts. You revel in the sensation of being totally and utterly possessed.

Michel