Torpedo Taming

Author's Note: In order to enjoy this series, you must like boobs.

***

Torpedoes. Cantaloupes. Pillows.

"Impossible to tell," Don said impatiently, looking away from the wall of photographs taped in a row across his dining room. He ran his fingers through his dark blond hair impatiently as he grabbed the end photo from its taped position and sat down heavily in one of his high-backed chairs.

He squinted at the photo. "What shape are those tittes without that bulky bra, missy?" he muttered, squinting to take a careful look at the frame of Emily Stern, photographed without her knowledge as she leaned over to place a bag of groceries in the trunk of her car, her blond ponytail falling carelessly over one shoulder.

"You don't show cleavage," Don said, strumming his fingers against his chin thoughtfully, "But I know you're hiding plenty in there under those blouses and granny bras."

He first saw her a month ago at a coffee shop and needed to cover his instant erection with his iPad. Emily had walked in carrying her college textbook in one hand and her purse in the other, leaving her chest free to be ogled - even through her turtleneck.

They were double Ds at least, perhaps even Es. It was rare for a girl of 18 or 19 (surely she wasn't older than that) to possess such precious assets. The barista then called her name. Emily. Don's cock strained against his jeans as he thought about her. He needed to help her realize the full extent of what she was blessed with.

Don loved tits. Particularly big tits - and, if he was very lucky, big tits that were also sensitive. There was no feeling quite like cupping two handfuls of breast flesh and feeling a woman shiver with pleasure underneath him, just from that simple motion of possession. There was no feeling like hearing her purr as Don began to suckle a nipple deeply into his mouth... and hearing her whimper once the suckling became so intense that her nipples were left sore. And there was no sight quite like a topless woman with her hands tied behind her back and her large jugs thrust out into the cool air... her cheeks burning with silent humiliation and her nipples hardening in fright as Don complimented the hang of her breasts while twirling a leather riding crop threateningly in his hand.

And oh, the site of big tits dancing, wobbling, shaking and jiggling under his tutelage... there was no end to the ways he found to make a large-breasted woman feel reduced to only those dangling frontal charms.

Don certainly had no trouble with women. Ivy League educated and comfortably employed with a weekend boxing habit, he was an attractive, fit man who made interesting conversation. He was pleased to be a bachelor in his early thirties. But sometimes he tired of being such an upstanding member of society.

"I bet they're torpedo shaped," he concluded quietly of Emily's tits, reluctantly prying his tall, lean frame from his comfortable seat and snatching the photos down from the wall one by one.

He hoped so, anyway. Don had worked over the breasts of many women and could easily adapt to any shape, but torpedos were the most pleasing to his eyes: Perky, large missiles that jutted out boldly on either side of her ribcage, capped with fat pink tips that beckoned for a hungry mouth. Or the leather kiss of a small riding crop. Or a breast pump to work overtime, using its gentle humming suction to coax out milk that wasn't there, much to the discomfort of the recipient.

Emily would undoubtedly fight him the whole way, but the lessons had to be taught. Her mammaries were simply too large to ignore.

"Soon," he muttered pleasantly.

***

Emily blinked once slowly, then several times more rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar light in what seemed to be a spacious, airy loft.

"It might help to sit up once you get your bearings," came a friendly voice from across the room. It was deep. Male. Unfamiliar.

Emily's body felt heavy. She sat up wearily, unsure as to why her limbs felt like they were stuffed with sand. Little did she know, Don's barista friend had slipped the perfect amount of GHB into her latte during her evening coffee run after class. She was the final customer that night, and Don arrived shortly thereafter to pick her up and slip his friend a handsome tip.

It was the first time they had worked out such an arrangement, but judging by the ease with which Don had transferred the slumbering, big breasted beauty to his condo, it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Don let her sleep off the drug's effect on his couch, resisting the urge to touch or undress her. He wanted her full participation for that.

With it now being the next morning, Emily gasped as she fully comprehended her location in a strange place with a strange man.

"Who the hell are you? Where am I?" she asked frantically, whipping her head around and taking in the modern, simplistic surroundings of Don's loft.

He stood across the room, leaning against one granite countertop in his kitchen with a gentle smile on his face. "I'm Don," he said pleasantly, "And I'm afraid this is my fault."

"I don't know what the fuck this is, but I want to leave. Now," Emily said firmly, rising from the couch and using her shaky legs to walk across his living room toward the entryway.

"It's locked, darling," Don said calmly. "And the walls don't let any sound escape. But I'm not going to hurt you."

Emily's chest was rising and falling rapidly now as she futilely tried to turn the knob of Don's door before facing him again with apprehension. "What do you want from me?"

Don stayed leaning against his countertop and gave her a sheepish, boyish grin. "I'm afraid it's painfully simple. I want to see your boobs."

Emily blinked and felt her cheeks burn as the handsome man's words registered in her brain. "You're disgusting," she spat, her face contorted into a grimace.

"I don't blame you for having that reaction," Don said in a friendly tone, standing up straight and walking further into his kitchen. He kept the entire atmosphere very casual, which in an odd way made Emily feel less panicked.

"There is one thing you're going to have to accept," he said pleasantly, no longer looking at her as he opened his dishwasher and began to unload a few cups. "I'm going to keep you here for a few days, during which I'm going to have my way with your breasts. That means a few different things which I'll introduce to you gradually, but I'll need your full cooperation. So long as you don't fight or hurt me, I'm going to be very kind. And," he said, closing the dishwasher and turning to lock eyes with hers, "I'm not going to fuck you Promise. I'll bet you don't even have any experience with that."

Emily's uncomfortable silence provided the answer he needed.

"So," Don said with a small sigh, almost as though he was tired of explaining the situation, "What do you say?"

Emily swallowed heavily. Her legs felt wobbly and she once more sought the comfort of the arm of the couch, leaning against it and staring at the floor. It seemed futile to do anything right now, while she felt so weak. "I'll... I'll do what you want," she said quietly.

"Great!" Don exclaimed happily, flashing a smile across his handsome face. He nodded his head forward, directing her gaze toward a high-backed wooden chair placed uncharacteristically in the center of the living room.

"Sit down and take off your blouse," he said casually as he busied himself in the kitchen, preparing to make a pot of coffee. It was as though he'd just asked her to take off her shoes.

Emily grimaced and stared at the strange man who spoke to her so casually in such a terrible situation. "Right now? I will not," she said firmly, though she could hear her own voice shaking with each word.

"You will," said Don, briefly looking up to meet her eyes before turning back to measure his coffee grounds. "Or I'll take it off for you." He shrugged. "I figured you'd want the option."

Emily sighed with frustration and sat down, lifting her trembling fingers to the top button of her blouse as her back straightened against the stiff chair. Perhaps if she complied with him and got this over with quickly, he'd let her go as soon as possible. But oh, this was so humiliating. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut as her fingers smoothly removed button after button from its loop.

Footsteps across the hardwood floor caused her eyes to snap open. She stared wearily as Don slowly made his way toward her chair, stopping a few feet in front of her to simply observe. When Emily had finished the last button, Don continued quietly, "Slide the blouse off your arms and put it on the floor."

Emily obeyed, feeling goosebumps spread across her skin in patches as it was exposed to Don's careful, observant gaze. It wasn't cold in there - he seemed to keep the temperature in the apartment comfortable and warm - but she shivered nonetheless. "The goosebumps are only temporary," he reassured her quietly, not missing a thing.

Emily tossed the white silk garment to the side and fixed her gaze on the floor. She wore a white lacy bra which covered her breasts fully. The only bras she was able to purchase were via a specialty store for larger sizes that didn't offer many sexy styles, but she was grateful for it at this moment. The last thing she wanted to do was aid in setting the mood.

Don could barely make out her cleavage from beneath the full coverage bra - something that would be rectified shortly. "And now," he said cheerfully, taking several more steps toward Emily until he was within arm's length, "I'm an expert at this part."

Without giving Emily a chance to think, Don reached behind her and deftly unclasped the bra. With a fluid tug, he removed the straps from her arms and the cups from her breasts, and threw the bra clear across the room.

Emily gasped and her hands instinctively flew to cover her chest. "Hands down," Don said sharply. His voice wasn't loud, but the tone carried a threat that she hadn't previously heard. Emily swallowed hard and let her hands fall to her sides, exposing her chest to another's gaze for the first time.

Don raised his eyebrows and gave a long, low whistle. Emily's tits were a thing of dreams - and much to his delight, they were the coveted torpedos that Don had so hoped for. The full, round globes jutted out on either side of her body and remained shockingly perky and upturned despite their very heavy weight. Tits like Emily's did full justice to the phrase "gravity defying," he thought. Her breast flesh was alabaster white compared to the rest of her torso, which led the observer to believe that they'd rarely, if ever, seen the light of day.

But perhaps the most promising parts - and the parts that made Don's cock twitch impatiently in his jeans - were her nipples. Pale pink with puffy aureolas and thick like champagne corks, Emily's nips stuck out a proud half inch from her breasts.

Don could only imagine how perfectly his lips would latch around one of those distended, pink aureolas, and how beautifully the nipple would stretch in his mouth with the right amount of punishing suction. How warm and full the breast would feel as he held it in both hands while suckling with a steady rhythm as though he could draw milk.

Not yet, he told himself with a deep breath. She'll need to earn that treatment first.

"You are quite the sight to behold, young lady," he said gently. Emily's face was still angled toward the floor, and Don reached out to cup her chin and tilt it up until her eyes met his. "I know you don't think so right now, but your tits are exemplary. They were built to be enjoyed, and by the time you leave here, you'll have a full appreciation for what that means."

He walked a full, slow circle around her chair, observing from several angles the heavy yet delightfully upturned hang of her jugs. "How large are they, Emily?" he asked quietly as he came to a stop squarely in front of her. "They must be an E cup, at least."

Emily swallowed heavily before nodding, her cheeks burning. "A 32E," she confirmed quietly.

As casually as one might decide on a grapefruit purchase at the supermarket, Don reached out and placed a palm on the underside of each breast, lifting up and down gently to get a full sense of their weight. Emily's breath caught in her throat and her back stiffened.

"Heavy," he observed, continuing to move them up and down slowly, but not so fast that they jiggled - that would come later. "I'd say around three pounds each. Very impressive, young lady."

"When did they grown in fully?" he continued conversationally.

"Erm... I guess... in the last six months, after my eighteenth birthday?" Emily muttered, her eyes glued to the floor behind Don. This could not be happening - how many more questions did he plan to ask?

"Yet no stretch marks," Don observed cheerfully, squinting as he lifted her tits up higher for a moment. "Did you use lotion on them while they grew?"

"Cocoa butter," she whispered, her cheeks continuing to burn in embarrassment.

"They're large for your slender frame," Don continued, walking around the chair once more until he stood directly behind Emily and peered down, enjoying the sight of her pale white peaks jutting out on either side of her body, hanging vulnerably without the protection of her bra.

He rubbed his palms together vigorously for a few seconds to warm them and then, unapologetically, reached around Emily to place both palms squarely over the tips of her tits and sank all five fingers into the pillowy flesh, taking as much of the breasts into his hands as he could but still not coming close to capturing them in full. She jumped at the new contact, but he kept his hands firmly in place. He didn't press his fingers too hard, only enough so that she was aware of her breasts being held.

"Is this the first time you've bared your breasts to a man?" Don said quietly, feeling her large nipples stiffen against his palms. He released his fingers so that only his palms made contact against her nipples, and began a tiny circular motion to gentle massage the sensitive tips. Emily's breathing became more shallow - it was subtle, but Don noticed.

"It... it is," Emily muttered.

"And is it the first time they're being touched by someone other than you?"

"Yes."

Don placed his thumbs on her thick nipples and began flicking back and forth ever so gently and slowly. Emily gasped.

"You have sensitive nipples, don't you Emily?"

"I... guess," she whispered, her voice full of scorn for what he was doing to her.

"It's remarkable, really," Don said pleasantly, increasing the pace of his thumbs flicking across the tit tips. "A girl with breasts this large should have very little sensation in her nipples, but yours..."

Don abruptly switched from thumbing them to taking both nipples between thumb and forefinger and giving them a gentle tug. Emily squeaked. "Yours are tremendously responsive." He continued to tug them gently as Emily panted, her cheeks burning in shame as she struggled to come to terms with her reactions. Most of all, she was struck by how deliberate, patient and practiced Don's touch was - it made her wonder how many other girls he'd stripped from the waist up and fondled in this apartment. The continued plucking of her hard nipples brought her back to reality.

"It's rare enough that a man is treated to the sight of a girl with heavy yet perky E cup breasts," Don mused, continuing to tug her titties in a gentle rhythm, "but to also have the girl squeal like a piglet while her nipples are played with," Don sighed contentedly. "This is a treat that I intend to enjoy thoroughly. And just think," he abandoned her over-sensitized tit tips to tug her ponytail backward until her eyes were staring at the ceiling and met his. His eyes met hers and his tone was full of promise and intent, "I haven't even started to suckle them yet."

He released her ponytail and Emily's head snapped forward in mortification. Don walked toward the other side of the room. "Can I offer you some cold water, or coffee?" he asked casually. "I'll want you alert for the rest of the morning."