MOIRA'S BREASTS
By V.P. Viddler
The cord bit into my wrists, and I knew it was no use to try to loosen it,
though I knew that my position, hands behind my back, was making my breasts
thrust toward him. I was conscious of them rising and falling against my cotton
blouse, but I couldn't control my frightened breathing. I could only stand
facing him and watch him looking at them.
John could always tell what I was thinking. "Yes, Moira," he said now. "They are
exciting, moving that way. and no, I don't wish to stop looking at them. In
fact, I'm looking forward to putting my hands on them any minute now."
"John," I said, as steadily as I could. "You are a bastard."
"You may as well stop tugging at your wrists, Moira," John said. "You cannot get
away. You are my prisoner now."
"John," I said. "You can't do this. You know you can't."
"Oh, do stop, Moira," John said. "And say something nice, for a change. For
instance, you could say, `John, I would like you to put your hands on my sexy
round breasts.' Do say that, Moira."
"Go to hell," I said. It was foolish of me to say it. I knew what he would say.
"All right," John said. "I'll just make that call, shall I?"
I almost sank to my knees.
"No," I said, choking.
"What?" John said. "I can't hear you, Moira."
"No," I said again. "No, don't."
"Say please," John said.
Shame and loathing rose up in me, but I choked it down. "Please," I said.
And John said, "Right. Now say, John, I would like you to put your hands on my
sexy round breasts."
I swallowed hard. I was shaking. I would have given anything not to submit to
him. But I had no choice.
"John," I whispered.
"I can't hear you, Moira," John said, grinning.
I wanted to spit at him. But I said, louder, "John--I... would like you...to put
your--your hands...on my...sexy round b-breasts."
"Oh, good," John said mockingly. And he put up his hands. Instinctively, I took
a step back.
John said nothing. He waited.
I bit my lip. And I stepped forward.
And John put his hands on my breasts.
I didn't move.
"How soft and firm they are," John said. "Ask me to squeeze them, Moira."
I shut my eyes.
"No," John said. "Open your eyes and ask me."
"I--" I couldn't. But I must. "Squeeze them," I said.
"Please," John said.
"P-please," I got out.
John clamped his hands hard. I felt his fingers digging into my flesh. I felt as
though my breasts were in a vise. I cried out and tried to move away.
"Don't move!" John commanded.
I stopped. I twisted in his grasp. I bit at my lip, moans coming from my mouth.
"Hurt?" John said. "Hurt, Moira? I'm so glad."
"John, please--" I moaned.
"No, Moira. No. I want it to hurt. I want you to suffer pain. This is just a
beginning."
"I can't! Stop!" I howled. John was panting, watching my twisting, squirming
bound body.
"Moira," he panted. "Tell me to squeeze harder. Go on. Say, harder John.
Harder!"
"No! My go!" I cried frantically.
"Say it!" John demanded. "Say it or by god, you know what I'll do!"
"For god's sake--"
"Say it!"
"Oh Jesus god, all right!" I was sobbing now with the awful pain, crying and
writhing, but I had to say it. "Harder!" I sobbed. "Oh god, do it harder, oh you
bastard, harder!"
"Yes!" John said, and clamped with all his might.
"Aaarrrggghhh!" I screamed, spasming with agony. "AUUUGGHHHH! Oh no stop
AARRRGGHH no more fuck me please..."
