My Custom Made Leather Accessories
Over the next few days my bruises spread up to my neck and all the way around my rib cage. I was stiff and sore for two solid weeks and my poor breasts were excruciatingly tender.
Still, I was happy with my bruises. They reminded me of the early days with JR when I went home wearing marks from his whip.
I told everyone that I’d fallen down stairs, took sick leave from work and just lazed around the house for a week. I watched TV, took long naps and drank lots of fluids. JR came to my place every night and hovered over me. He brought me ice cream, made pots of tea and cooked dinner. He was genuinely contrite over the damage he’d caused, and nothing I could say convinced him that I was happy, so on Thursday evening I strapped myself into my punishment bra and met him at the door wearing it and nothing else.
I considered wearing the torture bra but the idea of teeth piercing my breasts was too much to bear. Just wearing that punishment bra with its hard rubber nubs was pure hell, but I wanted JR to stop worrying about me, so I knelt at his feet, smiled up at him and asked him to tie me to the bed and whip my breasts. Half way through whipping me (and while I was squealing in my second orgasm) he finally got the message that I was ok.
He did tie me to my bed, but wouldn’t whip my breasts for very long, but did make wonderful love to me, and after he’d made me come he settled himself between my legs and ate my pussy until midnight.
It can be very nice to be a slave.
My daughter dropped in and caught me lying topless on the couch. I was dozing in pajama bottoms and woke up when she walked in the room. I tried to cover my bruised bosom but it was too late, she’d seen everything. I was terribly embarrassed but she didn’t blink an eyelid.
“I see that JR has been torturing you again,” she said, kissing my cheek.
“What are you talking about?” I tried to play innocent as I slipped into a tee shirt. “I fell down the stairs.”
“Sure you did.”
“I tripped and fell over my own feet,” I insisted.
“Come on Mom, I’ve known about you two for years,” she said. “Is there any more coffee?”
“Uh, no. I’ll make a fresh pot.”
I forced myself to walk normally to the kitchen, despite the painful stiffness in my ribs.
She sat on the kitchen stool while I brewed coffee. “What did he do to your chest?” she asked. “Did he whip you extra hard?”
I was so embarrassed that I almost dropped the coffee pot. It took me a few minutes before I could speak.
“No, it wasn’t a whip,” I told her. “It was something else, which he invented.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Ok.” She grinned at me.
“So how long have you known?” I asked.
“Since about two months after you began your affair,” she said. “I followed you to the motel and listened at the bathroom window.”
“And what did you hear?”
“Enough to know that you were having seriously kinky sex.”
I looked at her sadly. I felt that I’d betrayed her.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve known that you and Dad weren’t right for each other since I was nine years old. I was surprised that you hadn’t had an affair earlier.”
“I hadn’t met JR yet,” I said. “And I wasn’t looking to have an affair until he came into my life.”
“Well, I’m glad you met him,” she said. “He’s right for you.”
“Even if he beats me black and blue?”
“Sure, since that makes you happy.”
“How do you know that?”
“I came home early from school and heard you on the phone with him,” she said. “You were reminding him to bring more whips to your next rendezvous.”
“Oh God,” I said.
“I know that you wouldn’t let him do anything that you didn’t like,” she said. “No matter how much you love him.”
“Are you sure that I love him?” I asked. “I could be with him just for the sex, you know.”
“Not a chance,” she laughed. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have his initials on your purses or your underwear.”
“And how would you know that his initials are on my panties?”
“Come on Mom, I used to help with the laundry, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right, you did.”
“I suspect that you might have his initials on more than that too,” she said grinning at me.
“What do you mean?” My tummy went cold with fear. I wondered if she knew about my brand.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t have a tattoo hidden somewhere on your body.”
“No, I don’t have any tattoos,” I said. “But do I have any secrets that you don’t know about?”
“Probably not,” she giggled. “I love the outfits you wear to the motel.”
“Oh you do? How many times have you followed me?” I demanded.
“Only once,” she said. “But a few years ago I happened to be driving past when I saw you arrive in your car.”
“Um hmm,” she laughed. “I saw you flirting with the man who works at the motel.”
“Is that all?” I demanded.
“Nope,” she said impishly. “I watched him take pictures up your skirt too.”
I blushed furiously. “Did you listen at the window again?”
“No, I went on my way, but when I came back hours later your car was still in the parking lot, so was JR’s. So I waited and saw him leave, then you came out and flirted with the motel guy again.”
“How do you know I was only flirting? I might have been sleeping with him too.”
“I just have a feeling,” she said. “From his body language I could see that he was asking, and you were turning him down. I could tell that you were enjoying teasing him, you even let him pat you on the bottom, but he was obviously disappointed when you drove away.”
“You said outfits, does that mean you’ve seen me there more than once?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t spying. I was taking a Saturday class at college and a few times it happened that I drove past the motel at the same time you got there.”
“And you saw me dressed like a prostitute.”
“Yep, and you looked very sexy. I wanted to borrow some of those outfits.”
“My clothes won’t fit you,” I said.
“I know,” she laughed. “I had to go out and buy my own.”
“Wonderful,” I sighed. “Well, just for your information, I haven’t had sex with the clerk.” I paused. “But I’ve thought about it.”
“I don’t blame you, he’s cute.”
“And now I suppose you think that I’m a tramp,” I said.
“No, I think you are wonderful,” she told me. “And I wish I had the courage to do the things you do.”
“Why do you want to do those things? Is anything wrong between you and your husband?”
“No, not all,” she said. “I’m very happy, but every woman dreams about getting away and doing something outrageous once in a while.”
“Have you done anything outrageous since you’ve been married?”
“My goodness, are those new curtains?” she asked.
JR made a few modifications to the milker. He added some heavy bells, which were nice and added to the weight, especially when the frame rocked me, but the best, most fantastic change involved his initials.
He wouldn’t let me wear the milking bra for three whole months. He wanted to make certain that I was completely healed, but when I did get to wear it again I was delighted.
He strapped me into the bra and secured me to the frame. I was giggling in anticipation wondering what new sensation he might have created. I waited and waited but nothing seemed to happen for a long time. Finally I felt heat on my breasts.
The heat didn’t envelope my breasts entirely, it was only on the outside of each one. The warmth grew until it was uncomfortable, then faded. It returned for a few seconds, then slowly went away. I waited for something else to happen, but time passed and nothing did. I was gagged and blindfolded and tried to wait patiently. Perhaps the machine had broken down. I knew JR was in the room and mumbled in my gag to let him know. He ignored me.
Finally I felt him releasing me from my restraints.
“What’s the matter?” I asked when the gag was out of my mouth.
“Nothing,” he replied. “We’re done with this thing for the day.”
“Well, not very much happened,” I said indignantly.
“Are you sure?” he asked with a smile.
“All I felt was a little heat,” I said.
He hadn’t removed my blindfold, and when I climbed off the frame he grasped my wrists and tied them behind my back. When I was steady on my feet he pinched one of my nipples and pulled me forward.
“Some with me,” he ordered.
“Oooh, yes master.”
He led me up stairs to his bedroom. When we stopped he removed my blindfold, held my shoulders and turned me to face the mirror.
I screamed in pure delight.
JR’s initials were burned into my breasts!
A bright pink capital J, three inches high was beside my right nipple, an R was beside the left.
I jumped up and down and tugged frantically at my bonds. I wanted to touch myself, to caress the letters, to flatten them against my ribs. I wanted to throw my arms around JR’s neck and hold him tight against my body.
“Happy now?” he smiled.
I burst into tears.
JR scooped me up and carried me to the bed. He lowered me gently and tenderly and I was scrambling to get my legs open before he had time to let go. He positioned himself between my knees, bent forward and kissed each breast, then slid into me.
Later that day, after too many orgasms to count, I lay happily in his arms. I was still bound, my breasts still hurt slightly, but the rest of my body glowed and trembled with deep contentment.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You are welcome,” he replied.
It was the first time we’d spoken since I looked into the mirror.
“I didn’t think you would ever brand me again,” I said, looking proudly at my breasts.
“I didn’t,” he answered
“I didn’t brand you permanently. The bra burned you but not enough to leave a permanent brand, the marks will fade in time.”
“Oh, but I want to wear your brand again.”
“You can. We can repeat the process,” he told me. “But I don’t want your breasts permanently marked. I’ve told you that.”
“Oh, all right,” I said. “You’re the master.”
“And don’t forget it.”
“Yes my lord.”
“And don’t get sarcastic or I won’t tell you what else I can do to your breasts.”
“I won’t, my master,” I said very sincerely.
He looked at me suspiciously. I batted mine at him.
“All right,” he chuckled. “The bra is set up to burn my initials onto your breasts in four different locations.”
“Oh my God! Tell me.”
“I can set it to burn you on the tops, the bottoms, or the insides of your breasts, just like on the outsides.”
“But it won’t brand me?” I asked hopefully.
“No, I’ve built in safeguards so that the heating elements won’t get hot enough, or stay on long enough to create permanent burns.”
“It will only scorch you,” he went on. “And I’ll make sure that you are healed before we do another application.”
“What would be your favorite place?” I asked. “Top, bottom, or sides?”
“None,” he answered. “I don’t want marks on your breasts. I only did this for you.”
“What will be your favorite location?” he asked, kissing me.
I though about it, “I believe on the sides, just as you’ve chosen.”
“Well, I’d like to have your initials on the tops of my boobs so that the whole world could see them when I wear something low cut, but I know that isn’t practical. The same goes for in my cleavage. The bottoms of my breasts wouldn’t do because no one could see them unless I stand on my head, so the sides will have to do.”
“But I want you to burn me in all four places,” I told him. “Just to be sure.”
“Oh, I just had an idea,” I said. “Can the bra burn me all at once?”
“Nope. I made sure of that.”
He traced the J on my right breast. I winced.
“Did that hurt?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you very much. Do it again, please.”
This time he traced it with his tongue.
My burns lasted for almost two weeks and JR made me wait two more weeks before he would burn my breasts in another location. I loved having his initials on the tops of my breasts, but I had to admit that they looked rather trashy when I wore a low cut blouse. So I had to behave myself and wear sedate clothing until they disappeared.
The only time I went out in public with them on display was when I met JR at the motel.
I arrived early enough to show my new marks of ownership to the motel clerk. I walked to the office, yanked the neckline of my shirt down as I approached the door and hooked it under my breasts.
There were no customers in the office, but I wouldn’t have cared if there had been. The clerk’s mouth dropped open when he saw me, then he grabbed his camera and shot a roll of film. I posed this way and that, and lifted my skirt so that he could take pictures of my pussy. I even allowed him to touch the burns.
JR permitted me to experience the next application a month later, this time in the cleavage between my breasts.
Scorching the insides of my breasts felt nice, and just the tops of the letters showed when I wore a bra, but they looked like smudges of dirt. Even so, I allowed the motel clerk to take pictures of them.
Those pictures turned out to be terrifically erotic.
I posed standing up and holding my breasts up and apart, and the clerk got several shots, but then he had me lie flat and allow my boobs to fall open naturally. He straddled my body and took pictures from directly above.
After a few shots, I tugged my skirt up and opened my legs and he got some excellent shots of my branded pussy and my scorched breasts together. Then I did something that surprised even myself.
I masturbated for the clerk.
Right on the floor of the office! I looked into his eyes, put my fingers in my pussy and rubbed my clitoris until I came. He took roll after roll of film and got some fantastic pictures of my face when I had an orgasm.
When I came I was covered with sweat and my hair was a mess. The clerk was sweating too, and his trousers showed an enormous bulge. I felt his sexual need so powerfully that it was all I could do to keep from begging him to fuck me.
It took all my will power to climb to my feet and walk out of that room.
Burning JR’s initial on the bottoms of my breasts turned out to be very erotic. They were completely hidden whether I wore a bra or not (due to their sag) but for some reason, knowing that the burns were there seemed more erotic than the other places. I began to plot a way to get JR to permanently brand the lower parts of my breasts.
Surprisingly, he seemed mildly receptive to the idea, but told me that if we did brand my breasts it would be with the older, smaller branding iron, not the large letters.
That would be just fine with me.
My friend allowed me to wear her milking bra. She took me to JR’s house while he was away on a business trip. She led me to the basement dungeon and watched while I undressed. She buckled the mechanical bra onto me but I must confess that it wasn’t a good fit. My breasts are much smaller than hers. Never the less, it still felt very sexy.
She strapped me to the frame and turned on the bra. I felt the heat and cold and electricity but the bra fit too loosely for me to get the effect of the milking action or the kitten teeth, but it was still a very erotic experience.
She offered to ask JR to make a bra to fit me but I declined because JR would know that she had revealed their secret, and I would not want to jeopardize their relationship.