So I have a hard time remembering some things. Like the kids’ SSN numbers, or my Dad’s birthday, or that nothing “mine” is really mine. Like, I dunno, my tits.
nagging pointing out ever so sweetly to N last night that He often says that I misheard Him, or that my father misheard Him, or that His mother misheard Him (seeing a pattern here? I did…) but that it isn’t Him. When I continued to postulate that when the only consistent variable was His mumbling self, He walked off while I was turned away, leaving me arguing with the walls of the living room. When I came downstairs I made it obvious I was not happy with being dismissed so … sigh I don’t know, I was not happy with how supercilious the end of the discussion was delivered. We undressed, I grabbed my collar from under the pillow and knelt in front of Him. I was still a little hot under the collar and when N reached forward to grab my tit, I leaned back to deny Him. I know, I know, it’s a red flag in front of a bull…) He thrust forward and grabbed a handful of flesh, sinking the pads of His callused fingers into my tender tit. I grinned, stifling maniacal giggles as I resisted giving in to the pain. He smirked and slid His hand forward, latching on to the nipple, and His other hand came out from underneath the blanket to join in. I hissed and giggled and grinned as He attempted to get each thumb and forefinger to meet each other, my poor nipples caught in between. I leaned forward and tried to bite His forearm, but each time I did so He pulled up and out until I straightened my back again. I think tried two or three times before accepting defeat and whimpering “You win, You win!” and slumping in defeat.
Still grinning evilly, He told me to say my devotion while He’s removing my nips from my tits. I did my best while occasionally whimpering or giggling, so He said “Too much giggling. Do it again.” Goddamned if my nipples were still attached to my body…all I could feel was a white hot/cold burning where they once had been. So the devotion came out of my mouth in a rush, words tripping over themselves as my ass slowly rose off of my ankles in response to the slow traction applied to my abused titflesh. Finally it was over and I crawled into bed, warily cradling my sore boobs and gingerly rolling onto my side.
And the first thing
that Asshole my Owner did when I got comfortable was grab my tit and pinch my nipple again.
Who the hell does He think He is?
Oh. Right. 😀