STORIES OF BREAST BONDAGE AND TORMENT

Darker Pleasures has tons of original, erotic breast torment and bondage stories -- hundreds of tit and nipple twisting tales by award winning BDSM erotica writers.

Inside our pages you'll find horny housewives' playing out their wicked fantasies, brutally seductive vampires biting on more than necks, cruel kidnappers playing fast and loose with their victims' best parts, delightful after-dinner breast-based desserts, savaged submissive slaves and their tormented tits, and so much more.

Continue for our breast bondage and torment art, videos, and articles!

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Rather than take the easy way out and just let you read one of our previously published breast-oriented torment and bondage stories - like Creme Brulee, for instance - we've decided to create something special. This very short tale lets you be there, either as the mysterious punisher or the anonymous victim. Once you're done, we've got hundreds of stories inside that make this one pale in comparison. All you have to do is join Darker Pleasures. For now, though, sit back and enjoy "Darker Pleasures."

Your gaze travels up her sweat-glistening, naked body. Bound helplessly spread-eagle, wrists and ankles stretched wide, her struggles only serve to tease. You linger for a moment over the tempting round curves of her rear and the moist folds of tender flesh between her parted thighs. Refusing to let them distract, you set your attention on the targets of your desire -- her full, beckoning breasts, bouncing wildly as she thrashes. Her thick nipples are rigid, the surrounding dark aureoles drawn tight. Her struggles slow as she follows your gaze, knowledge dawning as she watches you study her quivering tits and their pert, jutting tips. She sees the wicked. hungry look in your eyes. She knows. Not that it matters.

Opening the golden alligator clamps so she can see their sharp, jagged teeth, you smile as her eyes widen in fear. You center her nipples between the clamps' gaping jaws, letting the gleaming teeth scrape lightly against the turgid flesh. Without warning, you let the serrated teeth spring closed, watching the stiff buds collapse in their cruel metal bite. She screams into the gag, instinctively trying to shake the clamps free from her crushed nipples, heedless of the added pain that wracks her breasts. Her tits make wonderful slapping sounds as they bounce even more. But the alligator clamps hold tight, and her struggles only make them chew harder into the viciously pinched flesh. While she fights, you imagine your teeth in their place -- tasting and tortmenting her wounded nipples, greedily devouring her aureoles.

After a few minutes of helpless struggling, she tires. Her tits settle into a mouth-watering jiggle as she strains, watching in alarm as her nipples turn purple before her eyes. Intent on the cruel clamps, she doesn’t see the whip rise. You bury the first lash deep, relishing the violent, rippling movement of her breasts and the crack of leather across her damp, soft, ivory-colored flesh. The multiple strands clutch her pale tits, tearing at the tender skin and adding to her agony. You aim the next blow for a tip, satsified when a clamped nipple is driven down into her breast and the crinkled flesh of her aureole folds around a braided-leather strand. During the next dozen breast-shaking blows, her whipped tits turn a fevered red, criss-crossed with angry crimson welts. But, despite the brutal tit torture and the pain filling her ravaged, dark nipples, she has yet to break.

When the tips of her scourged tits finally turn the proper shade of violet, you pull one clamp free. She writhes in agony as the hot blood burns back into her tortured flesh, and she bites back a scream when the second is torn free. You lift the candle while she stares at the lines of tiny, deep impressions, welling with glistening crimson, that decorate her wounded nipples. Tipping the candle over her chest, you imagine the bright red wax splattering across her battered tits, coating her freshly pierced nipples in molten torture. When the first drops falls, she arches her back and lifts her trembling breasts, centering a ravaged nipple like a bulls-eye beneath the red molten stream. The burning wax splashes just as you'd imagined, searing the jutting nub and scalding her aureole, filling the hard, dark crevices surrounding her nipple like flowing lava.

Once that nipple is layered deep, you trail the fiery wax across her chest, leaving a line of red down the valley of her breasts. Her whimpering gets louder when you lower the candle and let the flame lap for just a moment at the other stiff nub before burying it, too, in liquid fire. Yet, despite her whimpers, you both know the truth: This breast torture is just the beginning, and her whimper is one of desire, because -- as much as you live to brutalize her luscious tits and nipples -- she lives even more than you for those same cruel, darker pleasures.