Don't Bother Me!

He reached out and grabbed her udder away from her, squeezing the brown bud hard. She looked at him with big eyes, wincing with every tweak. He pulled it up high and threw it down hard, making it bounce several times before it came to rest. She moaned and he hit her other breast with a load, open handed smack.

An evil grin spread across his face. "I just remembered."

"What?"

"Something in my bag. Something that will make me happy."

Digging through his effects, he took out a pair of mousetraps, still in their shrinkwrap. Breaking the cellophane, he put them on the table next to her udders. "Have you ever had a mousetrap snap shut on your finger accidentally?"

Her face went blank and she thought. "No."

"Well this will be different." Guiding the trap across the table, he opened it and pulled it back. He maneuvered the trap just under the end of her udder, and put the nub in range of the wicked metal.

"Ready?"

"For what?"

"For this thing to snap shut on your dainty nipple?"

"Oh. No, I'm not ready for that."

"Too bad." With a sharp report, the metal flew down to bounce off her hard nub, making her scream. The jumping trap failed to catch her bud, so he went to the bathroom to find a washcloth.

"This is so the neighbors won't here us," he sneered, shoving the terrycloth into her mouth. "Here we go again," he said, pulling open the trap again.

The trap snapped shut, making her scream through her gag, and this time it held the hard bud tightly in its metal embrace. He took the other trap and maneuvered it under her other breast; with a loud snap, it flew down on the soft skin and caught its prey the first time.

"You look silly with your udders in mousetraps. Your big, fat udders laying on the table with mousetraps on your nipples. It's going to be fun watching those thick eraser heads turn bright red, and hearing your scream when I take them off. The longer I leave them on, the greater the pain when I release them."

She looked at him with wide eyes as he watched. Taking off his belt, he doubled it and slapped his hand softly, noticing her response. Suddenly, the leather descended with a loud report, and an angry red mark across the top of her breasts appeared. She trembled and another blow descended. He licked his lips and hit her again and again. Reaching down, he pinched her right areola, drawing a whine through the washrag.

"Shall I give you a sneak preview?" he said. Caressing her right breast, he moved his fingers down where the grasped the bar of the mousetrap and pulled it up. Her breath came in short bursts as the color returned; he let her savor her liberty about thirty seconds before he dropped the bar again.

Another squeal came from the gag, and he smiled with delight. He repeated the procedure on her left breast, stroking and teasing it before releasing the nub, but this time he milked it as the blood returned. The trap snapped shut again after about thirty seconds, drawing another whimper.

Coming around behind her, he reached over her head and began to caress her huge churns from behind, squeezing and kneading them. Her eyes closed and she moaned as he touched her. "I don't want to touch any other part of your body. I just want to have your udders. To touch and to hold, to squeeze and to pinch, to whip and to torture. You want this, don't you?"

Her head nodded and she moaned again. Reaching in, he pulled the washrag from her mouth and she moved her lips several times as she got used to her freedom. "That feels so good," she whispered.

"What else do you have to offer me?" he growled.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you like it when I splooged your face?"

She nodded quietly. "I wish you would cum in my mouth."

"How do I know you won't bite my dick off? After all this pain, you'd probably like to sink your teeth in my bite sized cock."

She pushed with her tongue and a plate slipped. "No, never. I got false teeth. When I take 'em out, there's nothing but gums."

A thought crossed his mind. Taking his broad belt, he wound up and began lashing her pale white jugs again with the belt. The morning light was enough he could see angry red stripes on her breasts. "Enough?"

"More," she whispered. He hit her several more times, harder than before. "More." The brown nipples became his target and she cried out as he landed several savage blows across the soft buds.

Her nipples were turning purple in the traps. "Now's the time. No screaming, or the gag goes back." With a flourish, he pulled the trap off her right udder; her head buckled open mouthed as the blood rushed back painfully. He reached over and milked the wrinkled bud, bringing more anguish, until it returned to its normal color. "There's one more. One more round of this. Look at your fat nipple, turning deep purple. I have to let the blood back in; it will hurt. Ready?"

A nod. "Here we go."

The trap came off to a slight high pitched keen that was cut off abruptly. He milked the abused bud as it recovered as she trembled and writhed under him. Suddenly, he smelled a strong musk and saw a large spot on the front of her trousers.

"You came again."

Several heavy breaths gusted in and out. "I'm still doin' it. Don't know why. My tits hurt so much, my nipples feel like they're gonna fall off, but, but, but, it's that hardest I've cum."

Looking behind her, he noticed a coat hanger with two clamps; it was held by a bracket on top that removed easily, giving him a bar to manipulate it. Then he went to his computer bag and took out a small box.

"Do you know what I can do with this?" He said showing her the hanger.

"I don't know, sir."

"Call me Mr. Fletcher if you know my name, bitch."

"I don't know, Mr. Fletcher."

"I'm going to put your poor nipples in these. But first, I want to do something else special. What's this?"

"A box of thumbtacks?"

"A box of thumbtacks. Sharp thumbtacks. Suppose I spread them on the table."

"Okay. Then what?"

"Supposed I take your big boobs and throw them on the table?"

"Yes?"

"Hard"

"Yes?"

"On the tacks."

A look of panic crossed her face. "The tacks would stick in my boobs."

"Yes."

"Then, I would put my dick in your mouth and let you give me that gummer you want so badly. After I've filled your throat with my yogurt, I'll let you pull the tacks out and then give you a bath in rubbing alcohol, no, hydrogen peroxide, just to make sure you don't get an infection."

"Wou'din it sting?"

"I believe it would. It would hurt like hell, especially as the peroxide foams all over your bloody udders, killing all the germs. Now, you have a choice: we go forward with this entertainment, or I throw your fat ass out of here and I never see you again."

Lucy thought for a couple of moments. "If I stay, will you came back here?"

He looked down at her, topless with the skin of her udders bright red from a beating splayed out on the table. The nipples had returned to their normal hue and laid there, hardening in the cool air. Her face was questing, anxious, inviting. Frank shook his head and dug the bottle of hydrogen peroxide out of his bag.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"I want you to come back. I want to spend a night."

"You think I wanna spend my time with a pig like you?"

She grinned hideously. "Bet'cha ain't seen nobody like me before."

"No."

She reached into her mouth and took her dentures out, leaving a huge hole in her face. Her lips hung limply, with her tongue inside, her cheeks hollow. Reaching out, she pulled his boxers down and began kissing his penis. It swelled immediately and she took the head in her mouth.

Slapping her face away, he growled: "First things first. Are you ready for what comes next?"

Her lower lip quivered, her nipples hardening. "Yes." Her eyes looked up to him imploringly.

Opening the box of tacks, he roughly showed her huge boobs off the table and poured them out, taking a few moments to make sure they were all point up and in range. Viciously, he clamped her brown nipples in the coat hanger clamps. She yelped twice in pain as the harsh jaws closed on tender flesh.

"Does that feel good, bitch? Does it? Does it?"

"It hurts," she whimpered.

"What?"

"It hurrrts, it hurrts, it hurrrrts," she moaned.

"Good, I want it to hurt. I want it to hurt as much as this stupid ass trip is hurting me, as much as my idiot boss ought to hurt for making me do this shit." He whipped her udders again with his belt, several times, making them bounce in their confinement. Then, he pulled the hanger up, hauling her heavy jugs high and exposing the expanse of egg white flesh.

He held the hanger high over the table, letting her eyes drink in all the impending peril. Tears flowed from her eyes. With a grunt, he slammed the churns on the table; she yelped as a dozen tacks pierced her flesh. Pulling them up, he regarded the number sticking and slammed the hanger down again. An inspection and a third time down, then he pushed down on her breasts to impale her in as many places as possible.

Picking up the remaining tacks from the table, he stuck them in the tops of her breasts one at a time, laughing gleefully at each prick. She yelped feebly at each little stab as he punctured her again and again until her massive churns were covered with tack heads.

Whipping out his cell phone, Frank took several pictures of Lucy's pain from different angles before he snapped it shut. Then as rivers of tears flowed down her face, he approached with his rock hard four inch dick and stuck it deep into her mouth with one thrust.

Her inept blow job was too dry at first, the saliva building slowly, and she almost chewed too hard with her gums on his shaft, but with the excitement of fresh torture his balls began to tingle almost immediately as they filled with sperm. His breath started coming in large gulps, he started to tremble, and his cock erupted with a ferocious series of pulses, shooting globs of semen into Lucy's waiting mouth, creeping out of the corners of her mouth as it almost overflowed, but she sucked down as much as she could, frantically working on the spongy head of his cock and making him shudder uncontrollably as she milked him dry.

"Stop, stop, that's all I've got." He pulled away and fell back on the bed, his limp dick gleaming in the faint light. Her tongue worked all around her mouth, licking the sperm off her own face, her hands still behind her. Her breasts still lay on the table, still marked by red stripes and roughness around the nipples. Her head lolled back in ecstacy.

After a few moments disorientation, he sat up and looked at her. "I've gotta get goin'. First, I've got to check my e-mail. Put your clothes on, slut."

"Slut," she said dreamily. "Slut. Yes, I'm a slut. I'm a tit slut." Drops of blood were visible on the table as she sat there, her hair a mess and her nipples turning bright red in the coathanger's confinement. "But what 'bout the tacks in my tits?"

"Damn, forgot about that. We've got a little time and a little more work. Get a towel from the bathroom and pick them out."

It took a couple of minutes for the laptop to boot up; Frank used the time to run through the shower and he mowed his face while he saw his inbox. Lucy went over to the mirror to hold up her painful breasts and slowly pick every tack from her abused flesh, her face wincing with every piece of sharp metal removed. He scowled as his inbox revealed a message from the work address. A note from his boss: he opened it and howled at the top of his lungs.

"What's wrong, Mr. Fletcher?"

"That bastard, that bastard. I've got to make the same damn trip next week. The client was interested, but wants to talk some more. Shit, I'm not going to have a life when this is over."

"Are you mad?" The tacks made little clicks as they hit the dresser.

"Shit, yes, I'm mad."

"When do you have to be home?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Do you have to go back now?"

Frank shut off the shaver and sat on his unused bed. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his bald head and pondered. "I guess I don't have to be there until tomorrow morning."

"Still mad?"

"Yes, hell, yes."

"You can hit my tits some more," she said calmly, her eyes pleading. "I'm just about to come. But first take the hanger off. Then I'll suck you again, or do anything you want."

Frank looked at her in the morning light, an ugly woman with her huge, naked udders resting on the table, nipples erect, begging for attention. He ripped the hanger from her bloody breasts and she gasped as the blood returned to them a second time. "I think we need to use the hydrogen peroxide. Don't want your ridiculous floppy udders getting infected, do we?"

"No," came the small, childlike voice.

"No. Sit at the table with the towel under your udders." She complied immediately, the towel turning red as her breasts leaked. He fetched a bottle from his suitcase and opened it. "Now, this will really hurt, so I'm going to put a washrag in your mouth."

The air was rent with her muffled screams as the liquid poured over her breasts and foamed on the undersides. Frank lifted them up to make sure every puncture was bathed; Lucy hooted and howled as the foam cleansed them. His fat fingers milked the raw nipples, twisting them and pulling them as his anger built.

Her eyes were overflowing with tears, running down her face in rivers. Her shoulders shook and her entire body quivered at the punishment her breasts endured. The peroxide foamed and foamed, scouring her skin. His hands held up her breasts and made sure the burning liquid gained maximum access to her damaged flesh.

Satisfied with her agony, he went around, forced her face to the table which lifted her hips up, and peeled down the spandex to reveal her butt. It was gigantic, pocked cellulite and angry red zits, with tufts of black hair peeking from the valley. A loud smack resounded and the red mark of his belt appeared on the globes.

Smiling, he started whipping her ass, laying down a nest of marks as he moved up and down to cover the white target. Much to his chagrin, his small pecker roused again, enjoying his vengeance. Her muffled howls were music to his ears, and she squirmed and wiggled as fresh pain scorched her pale white skin. A hand came free and slipped between her thighs, frantically rubbing her slit and bringing her to another huge orgasm.

"I didn't tell you to do that," he snarled. "When did I say you would finger fuck yourself?"

"You didn't," came the faint reply.

"Keep your fat fingers in your cunt until I tell you to move them. You like it when I whipped your ass?"

"Yes."

"You like it when I punctured your tits?"

"Yes."

"And you felt you could stick your fingers in your cunt anytime you felt like it around me."

There was no answer. "How many fingers are in your slit right now?"

"Three."

"Is there room for more?"

"I don't know. I think so."

"We're going to have to do something about that." He looked through his briefcase and found his small repair kit. A pair of needle nose pliers emerged. Coming around he held them in front of her face, an evil grin on his. "Do you know what I'm going to do with these?"

"No. I dunno. Pinch my tits agin?"

"No. I'm going to reach in between your huge butt cheeks and pluck every hair out of your asshole."

She looked up at him stolidly. 'Oh."

"You want to quit now?"

A long pause. "Yes."

"Then I'm going to fuck your freshly plucked butt. Anybody ever cornhole your ass?"

"No."

"And if you can deal with that, then I'll put as much of my hand and arm up your flue I can. Do you want that, or do you wanna leave?"

No response, but her huge body began to quiver. He went around behind and spread her cheeks, revealing her hairy brown pucker. "Say uncle and this ends. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Number one." Reaching in, he grasped a wiry hair with the pliers and pulled it with a sharp movement. A sharp yelp broadened his grin, and he came around to stuff a washrag back in her mouth. Twang and twang deforested her brown skin, and muffled yips made his manhood bounce in anticipation. The silver arms embraced each new dancing partner and brought it out, putting it in the trash. Flecks of red began to appear around the wrinkled skin.

The task ended. She turned to look back at him, her eyes full of tears and expectation, the towel beneath her red. He went around behind her and thrust his fingers in beside hers, looking for dampness. Smearing it on his cock, he plowed into her back channel, drawing a new series of hoots as he ravaged his asshole without much lubrication or mercy, grunting with pleasure as he filled her back passage and she moaned again with a fresh orgasm.

"Take your hand out," he ordered. "Here comes the grand finale." He prodded her slit, and found a slimy swamp. Two fingers made the first reconnaissance, joined by a third and fourth; her hips rotated and ground against his hand. Pulling out, he made a fist and started pushing in. She pushed back accepting the intruder, and he was in past his wrist. Through the washrag, she moaned and moaned in delight as he went deeper, getting halfway up his forearm and thrusting vigorously. Her body began to quiver madly, and soon she spit the washrag out.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Mr. Fletcher. Ahhhhh!"

He kept his hand in while her orgasm shuddered for a seeming lifetime. Pulling it out, he stood her up, the crimson towels dropping from her abused tits, and the sweat plastering her hair back from her pudgy face. Taking a deep breath, he sighed. "I don't think I have to leave until noon."