It was a technique I had read about--complete tenderness before the suffering.It was a technique I had read about--complete tenderness before the suffering. It served to raise the distinction in the recipient's mind between the two extremes of pain and pleasure. "You have a very pretty face," I whispered, then added, "And I hope that blonde hair is natural." "It is," she said, her face flushing for the hundredth time this evening. "I'll be finding out soon enough for myself, I said, bringing my finger tips down the sides of Laurie's bare neck and resting my palms on her shoulders. Ever so gently, I kneaded the area beneath my palms, then slowly lowered my hands toward her pouting, blouse-covered breasts. She hissed slightly as my hands moved over the mounds; I felt the fullness of her mammaries beneath the blouse and bra. Her tits did not feel large, but they were not small by any means. I squeezed gently. She shuddered. Her mouth gaped open. The nipples began to enlarge beneath the thin cotton as I moved the palms in a circular direction, teasing the turgid nubbins even more. "I like your breasts. They are firm. Just the right size." For good measure, I gave them both a hard squeeze. She groaned, more out of surprise and pleasure than pain. She seemed to consciously lean into me as I grabbed her there, pressing her upper body against my hands, as if she wanted me to do this to her. She was really into this pain stuff, I could tell. Sensing her needs, I squeezed much harder, causing her to throw her head back slightly and to moan softly. "Do you like it when I squeeze your tits real hard?" "Yes," she blurted. It was obvious she was being truthful. I took the opportunity to give her exactly what she wanted, contracting my hands and fingers over her mounds, savoring her now incessant moans and groans. |