Big Tits Lives for This

Big Tits Lives for This

Hey guys. This fantasy began its life as a scene in an upcoming Joey and Carla story, but felt like it didn't quite fit, and deserved to be its own thing. It's my take on the classic "pulled into the alley and used" NC trope, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. If anything in here inspires your play, be kind, be careful, be consensual, and please don't try things like breath play, choking, or gags that restrict the airways without learning from someone who knows how to do it as safely as possible.

It wasn't that she was too afraid to react -- she didn't even have time to be afraid. One moment, she was walking to the library to return a few books. The next, She was violently dragged back into an alley.

It felt more like slipping on ice than being attacked. By the time she realized what was going on, she was losing consciousness, a huge, callused hand wrapped around her throat.

Lilly was only out because her roommate, Cindy, had been acting so strangely. The normally outgoing punk girl had been gone all night the Friday before, and when she'd come back, she was different. Quieter. Evasive, but eager to please.

And forgetful too; she'd left sex toys out in the living room, and a strange, ruined shirt in the basement, much too small for her.

The girls were both avid readers, and normally took turns returning books to the library. But when Lilly reminded her roommate, Cindy locked herself in her room without a word. Then Lilly heard moaning, and the sound of Cindy's rumbly magic wand.

The library wasn't far, and Lilly wasn't busy, so she decided to take them back. They could discuss the rest later.

She came to behind a dumpster, half believing that she'd dreamed the whole thing, that there couldn't be a hand tight around her throat. The denial quickly slipped away, and she clutched at the attacker's arm in panic.

He squeezed again, but she held on. It seemed very important to hold onto the thick arm wrapped in a leather jacket as she lost consciousness, although she could no longer remember why. She was out before her hands slipped.

"...you what to do. Just relax, big tits."

The voice was a deep, rusty murmur rumbling in her ear. In other circumstances, she might have found it sexy.

"Good girl," he said.

She needed to know what he wanted, what he'd just told her. She tried to ask, but all that came out was a muffled squeak. His hand tightened, and she froze in panic.

"Not like that, big tits. Be a good girl, and I'll tell you what to do."

She was still conscious this time, clutching her hands together, shaking as she resisted the effort to fight back. He chuckled.

"Hands back down at your sides, big tits. I'll tell you when to use them."

"Big Tits," she thought. He's using it like a name to humiliate me. He'll cop a feel and leave. Then I can shower and put this behind me. She tried to breathe slower, deeper. To get her bearings and not give him any reason to squeeze that iron hand around her neck again.

"That's good, Big Tits. Good girl. Stay just like that."

He reached his hand through her brown, open-necked blouse into her new sports bra. The blouse was one of her favorites, comfy, casual, and cute. The bra was to keep the girls from sloshing around. It was late in her cycle, and they were swollen and sore.

It was strange how much smaller her breast looked as he scooped it out of her bra and squeezed it in his massive hand, tickling her ear with a little grunt of selfish pleasure. It seemed to grow as he released it outside her bras, flopping down over her blouse and jostling to stillness.

She was a little under-dressed for the fall weather, because she hadn't expected to be out very long -- the library was less than half a mile from her home. Now, sweating with fear and partly uncovered, she felt the chill.

Her attacker's body was hot behind her, the contrast making the air seem even colder against her exposed skin. She could feel the goose flesh popping out, her nipple growing achingly hard in the frosty air, trembling with her breath, as if excited by this -- inviting this.

"Grab your namesake, Big Tits."

My Namesake?

Lilly glanced around as the phrase loopied through her mind without quite clicking. They were in the back of a dead end alley. To her right, was a chain link fence, overgrown and piled with detritus. On the left was a dumpster, angled out from the wall, blocking almost the entire area from the street, just beyond. He'd planned this. She was a decent climber, though. If she could somehow get to the fence-

"Your tit, you dumb bimbo. Grab your tit."

She balled up her fists, started to raise her foot for a jab to his shin.

"Try it. See what happens," he hissed in her ear. His voice was teasing, almost playful. This was a game to him. He really wanted her to try it. She lifted her breast with both hands.

"Good girl. Now, I'm going to ask you a yes or no question. If the answer is yes, shake your tit. If the answer is no, pinch your nipple and twist. Do you understand?"

She tried to nod her head.

He chuckled. "That was the question, Big Tits," he said, as if she were an idiot. "Do. You. Understand?"

She bounced her sore breast, shaking with anger. It looked almost too big for her small, pale, frightened hands. Like it wasn't meant for her. Like it wasn't even hers.

He bit down on her ear, hard, the sensation driving the breath out of her. A split second later, he squeezed her nostrils shut, starving her empty lungs. It was a precise, practiced maneuver.

His lips brushed her ears, breath hot, stubble stinging.

"Try again. Like you mean it."

He casually flicked her earlobe with his tongue as she desperately sucked at his hand, searching for air. He seemed in no hurry.

She grabbed her breast with both hands and shook it furiously, her vision blurring with tears.

"Better. That's the kind of enthusiasm I like in a girl."

He grabbed her collar and tore towards her arm, ripping almost half the blouse away.

It's about to happen. Next, he'll throw me to the ground and-

"Here," he said, handing the scrap back to her. "Blow your nose. Gotta keep those airways clear."

He'd done it so casually, like unwrapping a present, and offering her a piece of tissue paper to clear her sinuses. He took his hands off her mouth and stroked her face while She blew. When she let go of the scrap, it dangled by a few threads from the rest of what had been her favorite blouse.

"Next we're going to try a 'no.' Are you ready?" he asked, placing his hand back over her mouth.

It was easier to answer this time. The adrenaline was leveling off. She just had to get through this. Just take one step at a time, follow one command. She bounced her breast up and down the way he'd done it.

"Good. To answer no, you will grab your nipple, squeeze and twist."

He grabbed her hip, pulled it backwards until she felt his cock pressing into her back through her pants.

"Would you like me to take you home and keep you, Big Tits?" he asked, a smile in his voice.

She grabbed her nipple quickly, gave it a short, sharp twist. It would have barely hurt normally, but swollen and cold, it was painful enough to make her whimper.

"You don't seem so sure. Sometimes a girl says 'no' to me when she means 'yes.' Do you mean 'yes?'"

She squeezed her eyes shut, pinched down and twisted. It hurt so much that she yelped. He didn't punish her for the sound. By the way his cock twitched, he was pleased with her. She cupped her hand over her aching nipple, now wet and cold.

"That's a good girl. One more thing-- this one is optional. When I say, 'good girl,' you will rub your pussy if you agree. If you don't agree, you don't have to do it. But I'll be much stricter with you next time, so you can be my good girl. Do you understand?"

She uncovered the nipple and shook her breast, involuntarily pressing her legs together, searching for the wet heat that might make the next step easier. It usually took her a while to warm up for sex, and she often needed quite a bit of lube.

But not this time. Her body wasn't taking this one step at a time. It already understood things, even welcomed things that her mind couldn't. She felt him twitch again, his lips against her ear and his nose buried in her hair, luxuriating in her body.

"Now, you're going to do one of two things. If you want us to keep getting along, you're going to silently take off your panties and hand them to me. If you want to spend some time in my basement getting dry fucked up the ass, you're going to do anything else. Understand, Big Tits?"

She shook her breast, and he rearranged his grip: one hand on her hip, and the other on her shoulder. It felt paternal, as if she were a shy child and he were about to gently push her forward to meet someone. She glanced in front of her, almost convinced she could jump the fence before he stopped her.

No, she couldn't. She shut her eyes and bent down, her hands shaking as she removed her panties. She immediately felt a chill on her wet lips, as if to remind her that some part of her wanted this.

"Please," she mouthed silently. "Please...."

"Hold onto it for a second, Big Tits," he said, casually grabbing her by the throat while he rooted around in his pocket. "I've got something to help you."

He placed a thin, elongated pill in her hand, like a little perforated strip.

"Swallow this. Either way, you'll obey me, but this will make things easier for you."

"What," she started to whisper, looking down at it. She clapped her other hand over her mouth in horror.

He chuckled in her ear. "It's okay this once, Big Tits. It's nothing that will hurt you or have any permanent effects. Just something to help you relax. Take it, please."

He was asking this time, not ordering her. He knew she was too scared to refuse, so he could simply ask. She choked down the pill and he handed her a flask from his inside jacket pocket.

It was bourbon. She'd expected it to taste like rubbing alcohol, but it was surprisingly good -- biting and just a little sweet. It made her feel a little better, the heat rushing down into her stomach. She handed it back. His hand tensed around her throat as he took a gulp, warning her that he wasn't vulnerable -- that he was never vulnerable.

"Now the panties," he said.

She'd balled them up in her hands, but the dampness had seeped through. She could feel the slickness clinging to her fingers as she let go.

"I'm glad you're nice and wet, Big Tits. I like it when my girls enjoy themselves for me. Now open your mouth."

Impulsively, she grabbed her own nipple, twisting it painfully..

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," he murmured in her ear. She could hear a cruel smile in his voice. It made her pinch harder, twist further, her breath coming in pained gasps.

"I wasn't asking, bimbo," he said, grabbing her fingers and pinching them viciously around her nipple.

She didn't know if she managed to scream before he knocked her out again, but she didn't hear herself make a sound, and no one came running. When she came to, her nipple was throbbing so painfully that for a moment, she thought he was still pinching and twisting.

"I hope you enjoyed that little act of rebellion, Big Tits. Next time, you'll wake up in my basement. Understand?"

She shook her breast vigorously, opening her mouth and breathing out a syllable to let him know she was ready to take the next step.

"Aaaahh."

As she tasted her tangy nectar, she realized that this was all she was to him-- big tits, a wet cunt, and some wrapping he could tear off or move from one hole to another as he pleased. For as long as he had her, this was all she would be. And she had no choice but to do everything she could to please him in hopes that he'd release her.

She worked the panties in her mouth, tasting herself to remind herself that a step at a time wouldn't be enough. Her adrenaline had crashed and she was feeling foggier by the moment, but if she wanted to get out of this, she needed to serve him.

"Good girl," he said.

She felt changed as her hand worked under her skirt. As if her mind were one of those toy steering wheels for children, in case she felt like pretending she could control a body that was already his.

Good hand, she thought, almost laughing. Good girl. Good hand.

He reached under her waistband, his rough hand pinning hers in place. Her fingers were spread across her lips, her middle finger just barely dipping inside. His hand felt huge over hers, and she spread her legs for his middle finger, brushing past her taint, her breath shaking at the rough pad pressed against her asshole.

"Bad girls get it dry up the ass. But that's not for you. Show me what a good girl you are."

She slid her hand forward under his, plunging her middle finger deep inside herself, bucking against her own hand. She pulled it out and added another finger, then a third, fucking herself savagely like she imagined he would.

"That's enough," he said grasping her wrist. "I want to taste my big tits bimbo."

He pulled her hand back and sucked her fingers into his mouth. She felt him nibble on her middle finger gently, flirtatiously as she ground her ass against him.

"You're a good girl -- even better than-" he stopped, as her hand dove back in.

"No, that's enough. I have a question now. Do you make a lot of noise when you come?"

She pulled her hand out of her pants, and shook her breast, relieved to have her fingers away from her cunt.

"Would you be able to come silently for me?"

She whimpered, her fingers trembling with indecision. Then grabbed her own nipple and twisted sharply, pressing back against him.

He rummaged in his pocket. "Take out your panties and give them to me. Then put this in your mouth. All the way in."

She looked in amazement, squeezing the large sponge ball. There was no way! Still, she pressed it against her mouth, making a show of cramming it, trying to show him she was a good girl.

He grasped her nipple, lightly at first, slowly increasing pressure without saying a word. And she knew it would fit -- it had to. She pushed and squeezed, her jaw protesting as her nipple began to scream in pain. And finally, it was all in. He casually released her nipple and tucked his trophy away in a pocket.

"Almost ready, Big Tits," he said. "This will take some pressure off your jaw. First, wrap this around your head, from chin to top."

She ripped the dangling rag the remains of her blouse and followed his instructions, doubling it up to protect her face from whatever he had in mind.

"Now hold still."

She jumped in surprise at the sound of a zip tie by her ear, and a moment later it bit into her chin and head through the fabric. It was thick enough that normal scissors wouldn't cut through it -- one of those extra large ones used in workshops. The fabric helped, but the pressure was still uncomfortable. Still, it did ease her jaw, pulling it closed against the sponge.

Next, he ripped another ragged strip from her blouse and tied it as a gag, bisecting her lips. He added a zip tie between her lips, pulling the sponge deeper into her mouth, click by click.

She stood in a daze, distantly wondering if she was about to choke to death on the ball. She waved her hands to get his notice, but he ignored her. Just when it was too much, he pulled the end of the first tie and tightened it a few more clicks, driving the sponge a precious few millimeter away from her throat.

Finally, he pulled the remains of her blouse off her shoulder and unfastened her bra, leaving her topless, and pressed a marker into her hand. It was later, and she'd already been cold. Now, she began to shiver violently in the red-orange sunset.

It barely mattered now -- everything was so distant. There was a woman stripped, gagged, shivering, and helpless in the alley. That woman happened to be her, but could be anyone, really. And all the woman really needed to do was obey.

"Let's get you a little warmer. There's a shirt in the corner by the fence. You'll know what to do when you see it."

And he let her go. Escape didn't even enter her mind -- she was much too cold, and the alley was weaving gently around her. She barely had time to brush her finger against the gag, to marvel at what had been done to her, as she stumbled over to the shirt.

At first she thought she'd missed it, or maybe she was losing her mind. The little sweatshirt she found was much too small for her. But no, there was nothing else he could have meant. On the ground was a little, white sweatshirt with blue letters across it, in the style of a name tag: "Hi, my name is _____"

She'd seen the same shirt, stretched out with the name "Squirt" written in her roommates bubbly style.

"Big Tits," she scrawled, struggling to keep her hand steady despite the shivering.

It was stretchy, but she could still hear the seams strain as she pulled it over her head, the collar so tight that at first, she couldn't get it all the way on. She must have started to fall, because suddenly she was in her captor's arms, and he was righting her, her arms bound and head covered by the little sweatshirt.

He took a moment to admire her, slowly spinning her dizzy body as she shivered. Then he stretched the shirt down over her body. She thought she cried out as he finally pulled the painfully tight collar over her head, ripping the stitching, but she wasn't sure -- she could barely hear herself through the gag.

He handled her breasts roughly, painfully pushing them together to please his eye. The tight fabric held them in place almost up against her throat. The air chilled her cleavage around the stretched out collar and the underside of her breasts as the bottom of the shirt. She knew it must look absurd -- beyond slutty, with the lettering stretched almost transparent around her bust.

At least the sweatshirt helped a little with the cold. So did the warmth of her captor's body as he held her in his arms. His long leather coat was open, and she pressed against him to get a little more heat.

Her eyes were closed, and she barely even noticed as he tied a scrap of fabric over them. Only the zip tie, pressing gently but frighteningly against her eyelids, let her know that she wouldn't be able to see again until he cut her free.

"Just one more thing, so we can talk," he said, groping her front.

His fingers found her nipple through the shirt, then yanked sharply on the material. She heard a snip, and shivered, the air coming through a hole big enough to expose her whole aureole and then some.

He grabbed her nipple, tweaking it gently, his other hand slowly rubbing the outside of her sex as she pressed against him.

"Do you want to come, Big Tits?"

Her breasts seemed to bounce together in her hands, like some sort of prop.

"Good girl," he said, patting her head. "Get on your knees and show me what a good girl you are."

Her legs gave out half way down, scuffing her knees, and sending her face first into his shins, the pain grainy and distant. She wrapped her arms around his leg tightly, afraid she'd fall further, even though she was already on the ground..

"Wow. Guess that Xan loosened you up. I'd expect a busty slut like you to party more," he said, pulling her ragged arms off him. He picked her up under her armpits, and spun her around like a rag doll. Then he settled on the ground against the wall, pulling her into his lap.

"I guess it's time you learn what you're for," he murmured. "Good girl, Big Tits. Good girl."

She worked her hand under her waistband, pressing her fingers inside. She was floating, fading, her body unreal, her moans almost silent in the isolated alley while her captor whispered gently in her ear, telling Big Tits that she was a good girl, made to be grabbed and used and fucked.