tagFetishJuicy Lucy

Juicy Lucy

byThe Needler©

1Frank Fletcher drove down I-80 with an expectation that almost made his chest explode. It had been three months since his last trip to Wyoming from St. Louis, and he had been able to swing several days off after his session with his clients in Cheyenne. He approached Kearney, Nebraska and licked his lips in anticipation. He was a pudgy man in his early 50's, a crop of grey hair that misbehaved at every opportunity, and a freshly grown beard he kept trimmed close, making his face a forest of tiny spikes.

In the back of his car awaited a masterpiece of his woodworking skill. It was a double tit press, extra large, and could be tightened by one huge screw. One of his co-workers was assigned to service some clients in northern Minnesota, and used the opportunity to take his family along. Frank house sat for him, making full use of this friend's full basement workshop, using skills he developed in High School shop class and honed as a carpenter until a back injury forced him to seek less strenuous work.

Waiting for him in Kearney was Lucy Lewis, a chubby woman in her late 40's with long grey hair. Her face was broad with a smashed nose, cloudy blue eyes, round cheeks and a double chin, her butt has enormous, but the feature Frank looked forward to were her huge breasts. In previous visits, he discovered great pleasure in torturing them which she shared. It became a routine, he would stop as he went back and forth to Wyoming and she would burst in on him in the early morning, presenting her jugs to his abuse to keep him from reporting her to boss ready to dismiss her.

Her boss had finally fired her out of pure spite, and she'd found work at a local convenience store. There she progressed rather rapidly to manager status, and was in charge of the establishment. She kept in contact with Frank, pleading with him to come visit her on his next trip to Wyoming and expressing frustration when his work did not take him her direction.

Finally, he was coming West, and in preparation he'd given her a shopping list. Some of the items were easy to acquire, but one item frustrated her efforts until a local Catholic church closed. Looking on the Internet, she discovered the uses of her purchases, which made her shudder in fear and burn in anticipation.

Frank read Lucy's directions again, and turned into the parking lot of her apartment complex. It would be difficult for him to lug his prize possession up two flights of stairs in one trip while juggling a small toolbox, but his libido spurred him onward. A simple bag over his shoulder contained his personal effects, for he would stay with her as well as play with her.

Her apartment was in the upper right hand corner of an unglamourous box build in the late '60s. He rang the doorbell, and it opened quickly. "Hello," she murmured. She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, her heavy breasts hanging down free of restraint, her grey hair pulled back in a long ponytail, her fat feet bare.

"Hello," he murmured in return. "See ya got everything."

"Yes," she whimpered. "I did my best."

"How long has it been since I last seed you?"

"Three months."

"Has it been too long?"

"Yes."

"Did you play with yourself or did you do what I told you?"

"I did what you told me. I sucked my own tits every night, and thought about what you'd to do them. I didn't play with myself any other way, and nobody else touched me neither."

"Good. I'm looking forward to playing with your fat udders."

She kept her head down, but a slight smile creased her face. "What'cha got there?"

He put it down on her linoleum table and pulled off the cover. "This is a tit press. A big clamp."

"Looks nasty."

"Oh yes. And I took the time to line it with coarse sandpaper. This should feel incredible when it traps your floppy udders. I see you forgot something here."

"Did it?"

"Yes. You've got the clothespins, rubber bands, hand restraints, hair brush, votive candles. . ."

"Had to buy them from the church," she blurted out. "The priest didn't know what they was for and blessed them before I left."

"Kinky, I'm impressed. Green sided sponge, feather duster, air duster. The prie-dieu is wonderful, looks like it'll be the right height when I install the press on top of it. But you forgot one very special thing."

"What?"

"The rolling meat tenderizer." Her eyes grew broad. "Oh, don't worry, Lucy, I'm not going to completely mangle your boobs. Just make them wish they'd never been born." An evil chuckle resounded in the mostly empty room: it was a big, multi purpose room with an elderly couch, a kitchen table with old plastic chairs, an end table, an HDTV with satellite, and a single plant by the window. The prie-dieu sat in the middle of the floor. One door lead to a kitchen, another to the one bedroom and bath, and another to a closet.

"Let's get busy, Juicy Lucy. Bring the press over here and put it on top of this ledge while I get my hammer and nails. No, first kneel down here and let me see whether this is gonna work." She did as ordered, and he noticed the base of her mammaries cleared the top with room to spare. "Yes, now hold it in place with I drive in the nails." He fixed the press on top of the kneeler, whistling as he worked. "We might put something a little more, rubbery under some hardware sometime, right baby?" She blushed and turned her head. "This seems pretty solid. Don't want it coming apart if you get too agitated."

Putting his tools away, he turned to her and slapped her face hard. "Now, go get a bowl of soapy water from the kitchen and a towel. Make the water very hot."

"Okay." She returned in a moment and set the bowl down on the table with the other items. Kneeling on the prie-dieu, she looked at him and batted her eyelashes. "Now what?"

He licked his lips nervously. "One thing you need to realize."

"Yeah?"

"This is a tit trap. Once your tits are trapped, you can no control over what happens to them. You understand that?"

"Yes, Mr. Fletcher." She flipped off her t-shirt with one motion and started to kneel.

"Wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Light the candles first."

Jumping up, she bounced over and lit a match to light the votive candles, smiling as she did so. Frank watched her in interest, and when she finished, gestured her to kneel in the newly constructed device. She hurried to obey, lifting her boobs through the opening and letting them lay hanging on the other side.

The device was tightened. It creaked a little as the screw was turned, and she watched as the compression grew greater and greater. Happy with the tension, he flicked her nipples before getting the restraints to bind her hands to the sides of the kneeler. After he finished that task, he gave the screw another couple of spins and watched as her huge breasts began to swell from confinement.

"Nice," he said, "Very nice. I do believe Juicy Lucy, you've gotten your udders caught in a tit trap. Not very smart, you don't know what's going to happen to them in there?"

"Will it hurt?" He nodded. "Will it hurt a lot?" Another nod. "Will it make my cry and scream in pain?" He pinched her nipples hard, rolling and twisting them as she looked up at him calmly. "Will it make my poor breasties your favorites toys?"

"Yes. You know it."

She turned her head to the side for moment, then straight again. "Okay."

"First we have to be clean. So let's scrub these floppy doppies so they'll be ready." Taking the sponge, he filled it with water and began to soap her massive churns, taking care to use the green side liberally. She rolled her head and moaned as the water touched her, the subs dancing across her skin. "Now to dry them off." Next came the air cleaner, hissing at close range in short spurts to chase the moisture and foam away.

He palmed the meaty jugs and pressed them together. There were becoming more bulbous. Taking a rubber band, he began putting red marks on her skin, snapping the rubber against her skin, pulling it back more and more until he made a snap that made his fingers smart. Shaking his hand, he put his fingers into his mouth. "Here, Juicy, suck on this till they feel better." She complied, doing every gentle thing to assuage his throbbing digits.

"Oh damn, forgot something," he said, taking his fingers out of her mouth. He skipped back to the kitchen and there was rustling. He returned with a tray of ice cubes. "Time for those teats to stand up and take what's coming to them." A crack and a snap, and he held small piece next to her areola. It grew a hard bud, which is immediately captured with a clothespin.

She hooted as her other nipple was chilled into submission and captured. He stepped back and viewed his work. "I just love seeing these big udders like this."

"Me too," she whispered.

"I'm like a kid in a toy store, I don't know what to do next."

"Mmm, anything you want, Frankie."

He slapped her tits with his open hand several times. "Who gave you permission to call me that? Who? Who?" He took off his belt and began smacking his palm with it. "You can't call me anything except Mr. Fletcher. Understand that?" The belt landed on her breasts several times, filling the little apartment with loud thwacks. The skin turned red, and tears began to course down her cheeks.

As he lashed her breasts, Lucy's face changed color and she began to shudder. A short series of moans escaped her lips, and her body heaved. Her lower lip trembled, a pungent aroma flooded the room, and she released a long, low whine as her orgasm took her.

Frank stopped while she finished her climax. Throwing the belt aside, he picked up the hair brush and began hitting her tits with the blunt end of it several times, before turning it to hit her with the bristles, making her cry out in pain and wail. "Now for the summit, the peak." He picked up the rolling meat tenderizer; her eyes grew large as he brandished the savage instrument in front of her.

"Now, slut, what is my name?"

"Frank Fletcher."

He knelt and made contact with her skin. Keeping the pressure light, the points did not penetrate the skin completely, but made her breast feel like a pincushion. Small red dots appeared all over her jugs, and tears flowed from her eyes as she watched him torment her. Holding up her churns by the nipples, he made sure to travel the undersides, letting the weight of them settle a little on the points before moving on.

Finally, he put the instrument away, looking at her red pricked discolored jugs. "I think the wax should come next, don't you?" She nodded silently, her eyes still brimming, her face and cheeks red. "But first we should take the clothespins off. Don't want your nipples to miss all the fun, do we?" She nodded again. "Okay, count to three and I'll take off the left one."

"One, two, three, yeeeowww!" She bucked back and forth and her hands strained against their bonds as the pain set in.

"That's better. I'll wait a minute and let you calm down. Gosh, the right one is a nice shade of purple, isn't it? This'll be so wonderful.. Same story: count to three."

"One, two, three, yeeeowww!" Her voice was higher and her wail more sustained, traveling farther across the audio spectrum as the blood returned to her tender flesh, and he milked her tingling tits to help restore the blood flow, making her warble and scream. The pungent smell grew stronger, and she shook in another strong orgasm.

Stepping back, he looked down on his victim, the bulge in his pants tenting. Pausing, he looked at the candles and wondered if he could hold out until he visited her with another round of pain, or whether he should pull out his cock at that moment and blow his nuts all over the woman's face and hair. He went out of her sight and pulled up a chair to sit down; his back was a little sore from standing on her hard floor and his feet hurt. The pain made his ardor fade. After five minutes, he went into the bathroom and took several aspirin before returning to his recreation.

Lucy was still on her knees, her reddened breasts protruding from the homemade apparatus, looking at him with big eyes. Her fingers were moving, grasping, reaching, expressing her hope for more attention. The glass sheathed candles were pooling their wax, on the verge of extinguishment by drowning.

Frank picked up a candle and hovered over Lucy. His face was drawn in a grotesque leer, his hand trembling as it held the candle, his eyes fixed on the huge targets before him.

A first, teasing dribble fell on delicate skin. A sharp intake of breath: a second stream of molten liquid descended, and a third. She bit her lip and her hands quivered. The target was changed from one side to the other, several drops and a stream landed on fresh territory. "How's that, my lovely cow?"

"Ahhhh. So hot. So hot," she whimpered. "Are you going to do it again?"

"Oh yes, my slut, oh yes. How about this?" A glob landed directly on her nipple. She shrieked and quivered, trying to move from side to side. "Not so nice? I didn't think so." Several plumes traveled to land on tender flesh; tired of her protests, he lowered his pants, took off his boxers and shoved the semen stained shorts into her mouth. "Now you'll stop your griping."

Methodically, he returned to covered her breasts with wax. Each dollop was greeted with mews and moans, she shook in another orgasm, and soon her churns were encased in a multi-colored

colored shell. She sucked on the sweaty, goo soaked cloth in her mouth, trying to suck the moisture from it. His now naked prick was rigid, the head peeking from the foreskin, and coated with white goo. Finally, he could take it no more: he walked up just in front of her face and began to jack off furiously. Her eyes followed his movements, her hands moving as if stroking him. After so much stimulation, it took less that fifteen seconds to coat her face with his seed.

After he subsided, he pulled his sodden underwear, now heavy with her saliva, and she took several deep breaths. "How do your udders feel now?"

"Oh, they're on fire, just like the rest of me."

"Any ideas how to get rid of this floppy mess?"

She thought, her eyes rolling around. "Whip it off?"

"Whip it off. What a wonderful idea." He picked his belt back up, and flicked it in preparation. "Will you suck my cock when I'm done?"

"Yeah. But I'm tired of kneelin'."

He unscrewed his device, loosened her hands, and allowed her to rise shakily to her feet. She stretched and unkinked muscles confined to one position for too long. Her breasts wobbled, encased in their shells, and she lifted them up, offering them to him. He smiled, and brought his belt down on his favorite targets, liberating them from the waxy prison and turning them a very bright shade of red, as she wiggled and struggled to stand while another orgasm rippled through her body.

Frank laid down on the couch and Lucy came to him, kneeling over his lower legs. Without a word she took out her dentures and slid his rigid member into her mouth, slurping and slobbering over his little wiener. Her tongue was all over his groin, and he held her head as she brought him closer and closer to the edge. Finally, with an animal cry that would have made a baboon jealous, he emptied himself into her hungry mouth, and she slurped and sucked like an infant to devour his sperm until his testicles were completely empty.

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