A Night at the Nutcracker Suite

This site was recommended by a friend in another forum, and this story in particular. If you like it, please comment.  You can find all my stuff (in its original, less hardcore format) here:

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Matt-Nicholson/e/B007SEWBCG
Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/mattnicholson

Enjoy!

A NIGHT AT THE NUTCRACKER SUITE - PART 1
Copyright 2023 by Matt Nicholson

There is a fine line between being extremely kinky and taboo.  Skirting that line was a game they’d played with each other for years.  When Nick’s wife died in the wreck, those scenes  line died with her.  With her gone, Nick had stopped hoping she might someday decide to indulge his fantasies.  Her almost-trips to the doc-in-the-box were over, and any fantasies he may have had about doing the same things to his junk went with them.

After almost two years, he had learned to accept the status quo.  He didn’t look for a hook-up because he didn’t think he could change enough to make someone new happy.  Dating was more trouble than it was worth, and he would only be comparing those women to the one he lost.  Maybe they would have qualities he liked – they might even be better at some things than Rebecca had been.  But no one could replace her.  So, instead of living through actions, he mostly lived through words.

He and Rebecca started out as a couple of horny newlywed kids and went about life the way most everyone did, with nobody the wiser when it came to their kinky fetishes or the way they supplemented their income.  Nobody had known about ‘Brett Davidson’ and ‘Crystal Bannister’ co-owners of the hugely popular Internet webzine Forbidden Pleasures.  So, nobody had known about the years he spent torturing women’s breasts for profit, first his wife’s and then a host of other gorgeous girls.  By the time ‘Becca died, people saw him as something of as an expert, though he had long since given the job of finding and torturing tits for the site to other people.

The 'zine was great, but competitors with more money to spend on tit-mangling than Nick and ‘Becca could afford eventually got the best of them. When the website went tits-up, Nick gave up professionally punishing boobs.  They retired ‘Becca’s gorgeous breasts from the eyes of the world, and he concentrated more on writing about punishing them.  Since then, he had written and edited hundreds of stories for their Forbidden Pleasures book line.  He could write tit torture stories in his sleep.  It had been another way of letting that aspect of his imagination loose.

He was lucky he managed to parlay writing porn into something that made money.  Most people couldn’t.  But, his style was more intimate than most.  He found it easy to paint pictures of the sights, smells, and sounds of how things felt and even tasted.  All he had to do, after all, was pretend to be his characters.  His unending fascination with breasts had led to tit torture, which led to Forbidden Pleasures, which led to writing about it.  It was a natural progression.

So, when ‘Becca suggested Forbidden Pleasures Books branch out with a new line of cock and ball torture stories, he had jumped at the chance in much the same way.  It wasn’t long before he cranked out CBT stories with as much enthusiasm as he did tales of breast punishment.  It was an outlet for his other favorite fantasy, the one with him on the receiving side.

But, unlike their Pink Line of tit torture tales where he drew inspiration from his experience really punishing breasts, he drew inspiration for their Blue Line more from his fantasies than from real life.  While ‘Becca had loved his breast fetish and encouraged it, at least to her limits, she never really explored his fantasies so much.  She simply wasn’t that interested.  And when she did bite, pinch, or scratch, it was more from devotion that enthusiasm.  So he had always kept his enjoyment of harder CBT in the closet.

After she died, Nick dove into writing even more.  Tit torture still came blindly.  What he had never really done was still easy enough to imagine.  But now, since there was nobody there to question how far he took it, he spent more time ‘researching’ his CBT stories, using himself as his Guinea pig.

He became more daring in the kinds of punishment he wrote about as a result.  Eventually, he realized his writing and ‘research’ were becoming an excuse for showing up late to places or skipping out on things entirely.  Since he was too young to become a hermit, he decided he needed to re-focus.  When he realized it wasn’t so easy to "just say no,” he decided it was time to look for help. 

~~~

“Telling me about that must have been difficult for you.  Why you think you need to talk to a therapist about it?  With your experience, you have to know how many people enjoy exotic sexual needs like yours.”

Nick shrugged.  “How would I know that?”  He thought for a second.  “Models don’t exactly count.  Beyond them, I’ve met zero whole people face-to-face in the BDSM community.  I write stories about it and chat with people on the Internet.  Who is really themselves on the ‘net?  I’m certainly not.”

The therapist moved from behind her desk and sat in a heavy leather chair cocked at an angle facing his couch.  “There have been quite a few research papers.”

He looked over at her.  “And these papers say it’s...normal?”

“They say many people enjoy it.  Do you think it’s normal?”

“I think...”  He let her silky black hair distract him for a couple of moments before he shrugged.  “I’m not sure what I think.  That’s why I’m here.”

She crossed her legs.  Though she was dressed professionally enough, the movement still showed an expanse of tanned thigh beneath her white and black floral skirt.  “I understand that, but my question stands.  What do you think?  Do you think liking what you like is wrong?”

He shook his head.  “No.”

“Why do you like it?”

He hadn’t expected the one question to lead to the other.  “I...”

“Why do you want it to be so extreme?”

“Because...”

She interrupted him before he could really consider an answer.  “Because you think you should be punished for something?  What more effective way to punishment a man than to emasculate him?”

He shook his head again.  “No... I never said I wanted to be emasculated.  I just like... I just want...”  Growing frustrated, he sighed.  “No, I don’t think I should be punished for anything.”

She pushed her glasses down her nose and looked over the top of them.  “Not even for enjoying something that was once only shared with your wife?”

His frustration started to boil a little.  “I...”

“Why won’t you see other women, Nick?”

“Because, it’s too much trouble.  I’d never find one who matched ‘Becca.  It wouldn’t be fair.”

Her glasses preceded the tip of her finger back up the bridge of her nose.  “Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“I’m not looking at all.”

“Maybe that’s your problem?”  She grabbed her pad and pen for the first time.  “I don’t think I can help you, Nick. Maybe you just need to see there’s nothing at all wrong, and there are women who would relish the chance to... help you manage your time...find your limits.”

“Manage my time?”

“You started by telling me your ‘research’ took too much of your time.”  She wrote something down on the pad.  “And you seem concerned that you want harder things you hadn’t wanted before.”

“Yeah.  That’s why I’m here.  To scale it all back.”

“She tore the paper off and handed it toward him.  “Here.  Take this.”

He hesitated.  “What’s that?”

“A special referral.”

Nick frowned and took the paper.  It simply said, “Fetlife.  Mistress Shelby.”

“This isn’t what...”

“Trust me.  I’ve partnered with her several times on clients with similar problems.”

“I don’t need...”

“Yes.  You need Nick.  But what you need, I can’t give you.”

He wasn’t sure what to do except nod.  He had no idea what just happened, but she had come very highly recommended.  At a loss, he fell back on problem-solving something else.  “So...will my insurance cover her?”

Her lips’ corners curled up into the closest thing to a smile he had seen the entire session.  “No.  She will be completely out of pocket, but if you don’t think she is worth her price, I will be very, very surprised.”

~~~

Nick was very familiar with Fetlife.  He had shilled books there as Brett for years.  Making ‘friends’ was just a matter of clicking a button, and it seldom involved actually being friends.  ‘Loving’ pictures was easy enough, since there were millions of them in thousands of personal galleries.  He had loved untold numbers of them, tits, tit torture, and some CBT.  The time he had spent there had been great for marketing, and helped pay for a short vacation or two. 

He mostly just hung out in the background, enjoying the free scenery and occasionally answering questions about tit torture when somebody matched his profile to his expertise.  Chats were seldom very deep or time-consuming, and he had never really taken the time to make acquaintances.  Mistress Shelby would be the first.

He went home that night and introduced himself by loving several dozen of her pictures.  There were plenty showing off the Mistress’ surprisingly gorgeous breasts in ways specifically calculated to tease.  Her more testicle-centric CBT shots also caught his eye.  And, though he usually paid little attention to anything besides boobs and tortured balls as a way to avoid caring, this time he also loved quite a few of her portrait shots.

Her body wasn’t the only beautiful thing about her by a long shot.  She had a pretty, oval face with a delightful smile.  Her expressive, wide, brown eyes conveyed everything from amusement, to mischief, to cruelty from one picture to another.  As far as referrals went, he had to give his therapist high marks for this one, as odd as the whole thing seemed.  After spending the better part of an hour thumbing through her gallery, he dropped her a quick message thanking her for sharing such lovely pictures and complimenting some of the things that most drew his eye.  He decided to wait before mentioning his therapist had recommended her.

Just as he would have done, she messaged him back to thank him for all the ‘love’ and the kind words.  She had returned the favor by loving a full third of the pictures he had posted, as well as several of his writings.  From there, they struck up one of those rare, real, chats.  It turned out that she was already familiar with his books; in fact, she was actually something of a fan.  It flattered him even more than usual.

Without the usual concern that he was just another horny wannabe trolling for wank fodder, she was immediately friendly, even warm.  And, since she had come with his therapist’s recommendation, his usual worries about nutcases and catfishing were just as quickly relieved.  With their usual mental firewalls down, they both started opening up surprisingly fast.

Even so, at first, he couldn’t help but stick to “Brett’s” persona a little bit.  Her profile said she was more than a decade younger than he was, which matched what he had seen in her gallery.  Whoever she may have really been behind the Fetlife page, all he knew of her to start was that.  She was Mistress Shelby, a professional Dominatrix dedicated to cruelly punishing, controlling, and humiliating anyone who walked into her lair.  Regardless of whether or not her playthings were male or female, her writings and pictures certainly made her look good at it.  She seemed not only willing, but eager, to push her toys’ limits as far as any ‘Mistress’ he had seen on Fetlife could be.  The truth was, he was a little intimidated.

That didn’t last long, though.  In fact, it wasn’t more than a few chats in that she talked with him about how ‘Mistress Shelby’ was almost as much a role for her as ‘Brett Davidson’ was for him.  All the pictures of her knees crushing crotches, high heels smashing cocks and testicles, needles pin-cushioning genitals and the more sadistic fun were real.  But, away from the camera, the reality of her life was almost as different from what she portrayed as his.

So, they talked.  And, since neither of them was into cybersex, they talked some more…

Continued in Part 2...

A NIGHT AT THE NUTCRACKER SUITE - PART 2
Copyright 2023 by Matt Nicholson

“Isn’t that what it’s about for you?”

He looked at her words on his monitor and raised an eyebrow before typing.  “No, not really.  I just want to play hard.  I mean, really. You know how they feel when you squeeze and bite them, or the way they bounce when you smack ‘em with a belt.  How can you not love that?  Domination doesn’t have much to do with it.”

“Bullshit!  You’re telling me you get off just as much if she just lies there and happily lets you torture her tits?  You’re as good with satisfying little moans as you are when they whine, and cry, and struggle?”

He started to respond.  For him, it had always been about seeing, feeling, and hearing.  He just liked it extreme, so pain, bruises and cuts came with that territory.  His fingers hovered over the keys while his mind mulled over what Shelby had said.

Some anonymous, curvy, twenty or thirty-something is naked and tied spread-eagle across a bed.  Her full tits are already red and welted from his belt.  Her battered nipples are rock stiff.  They beg him to bite them hard.

At first, she is just lays there, bound and waiting for the next lash.  She seems happy with life, moaning quietly while he beats her boobs raw.  Maybe she whimpers.  Then the scene shifts.  She’s gasping between sobs around a mouthful of her own panties, struggling, pleading with her eyes for him to stop as she looks frantically at her abused tits, which are bouncing even harder for her struggles.

She thinks she has let her fantasy go way too far.  She wants to quit, renege on the agreement, but she has given her breasts to him to do whatever he wants – no matter what she wants. 

Nick’s cock stirred, but only after his imaginary belt cracked loudly across the flailing girl’s tits and left another wicked welt while her cry echoed through the room.

Shelby was right.  He did like the domination.  Thinking back over everything he had done and written, he couldn’t see how that hadn’t been a no-brainer.  He paused and re-read what she had asked.  He and his characters may have gone about it more politely, but the result was still the same.

He tapped out his reply.   “I’d never really thought much about it.”  He wasn’t quite ready to concede.

“Sure you have.  You just played it out in your head.  I’m right, aren’t I?”

He sighed in surrender.  There was no escaping her logic.  “Okay.  Yes.  It’s better when they cry and struggle.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.  So, I actually torture my subs until it takes a couple of weeks for them to wear a panties and bra or walk without a limp, and they let me – willingly, even eagerly.  You write stories about it.  Same thing, only you miss out on the real fun, and you miss the biggest rush of all.”

If he hadn’t been talking with her long enough to know better, he would have sworn she was gloating.  “What’s that,” he typed, curious to hear what she thought the biggest rush was despite his having to concede her point.

“The biggest rush is when they beg me to let them come back again, even after I’ve turned their tits and pussy, or cock and balls, into mincemeat.  Tell me that isn’t great.”

He thought back to his imaginary thrashing victim.

She’s, spread into a human “X” across his bed, having thrashed and struggled so hard her hands and feet are a light shade of lavender from the ropes around her wrists and ankles.  Her brilliant red breasts bounce gently with her sobs.  They’re covered with welts and bleeding in a dozen places.  A few deep bite marks, most of them around her nipples and areolas, are turning mottled colors of red and blue.  Her pussy is sopping wet, swollen, and wanting.  Her clit sticks out far from its hood.  Mascara streaks her face, but her eyes beg for more.  So does she, at least as soon as he pulls her dirty panties from her mouth.

It would be great.  But, for Nick, it was a dream.  Still, Shelby wanted an answer.  “Yes, it would be great.”

“Was that so hard?”  He imagined her chuckling to herself on the other side of the screen.

“Yes.”

“I’m not talking about your cock.”

“Neither was I, though...”

She LOLed, and then another line popped up.  “So, I know what you’d do to some slut’s tits if you could, the only question is whether you’d heat the honey first.”

“Probably not.  Too much wasted time.  So?”

“You almost never talk about the other side.  What’s the craziest thing you’d want a woman to do to you, if you could?”

A part of him was happy for the change in topic from his inner motivation for torturing women back to straight fantasies that made him horny.  He had never really seen himself as domineering or sadistic, just kinky.  The whole concept left him a little confused.

“You’re kidding, right?” he typed.  “You’ve seen what I’ve ‘loved’ in your gallery.  What was that, fifty eight-gauge needles through that one guy’s sack?”

“That’s not crazy, that’s just intense.  I mean insane, impossible, beyond the bucket list.”

A niggling feeling started to tickle his brain, as if she was setting him up.  Still, with his little head back in control, he played along.  “Wow… That’s tough.”

Her reply appeared almost immediately.  “No it isn’t.  What’s the story you play in your head know you could never really do that drives what you do to yourself at night?”

At 40 WPM, his answer took a little longer.  “Okay... I’d want her to do the same thing to my balls I’d want to do to tits.

“You want to do all sorts of shit to tits, silly.  You’re a writer; describe it like you’re going to put it in a book.”

“Okay…well…”  He thought about it for a second, picturing it in his mind.  Then he started typing the same way he typed his stories.

 “I’ve been kidnapped and taken someplace out in the middle of nowhere – a cabin in the woods kind of thing.  Or maybe she just breaks into my house and waits for me to come home.  Either way, she’s already stripped to her panties and bra when she catches me by surprise.  By the look in her eyes, I’m pretty sure she’ll use the gun, or knife, or whatever she threatens me with if I don’t cooperate.  Hoping I might get a chance to get away when the time is better, I let her gag me.  She says very little as she ties me up, only enough to let me know she thinks what she’s doing to me is justified.  It’s vengeance or something.  Even as she cuts off my clothes, I’m still not sure I have anything to do with the real reason she’s doing it.  Maybe I do, or maybe I’m just a convenient stand-in for someone else.

It’s not long before she’s tied my wrists up to ceiling hooks and spread my ankles with a bar so I can’t get away.  Once I’m helpless, she gets undressed the rest of the way.  Unless she doesn’t want blood on her clothes, it makes no sense at the time.  But I soon realize from the way her nipples stay hard, how her clit and pussy lips swell and – after a very short time – the blatant way she fingers both, she really gets off on what she does to me.

After she pumps my cock until it’s granite hard, she sets up a portable burner between my legs.  I can’t help but watch any more than I can help but enjoy her fingers grabbing my balls right before she plops them in a pan of warming water.”

Shelby dropped a quick line.  “Oh, this is getting me hot already.   Keep going!”

Nick smiled at her comment and kept typing.

“The only reason my cock isn’t in the water with my nuts is that it’s pointing straight up at the ceiling.  She’s making sure it stays that way while the water heats up, just like she makes sure she heats up, too.  It’s not long before the water’s scalding, slow-cooking my balls and I’m squirming in pain.  Soon, she can’t keep me hard no matter how hard she jacks me off.  I try to stand up on my toes to get them out, but she kicks my foot to the side so I can’t.  As my cock goes limp, the only way I can keep it out of the water is by lowering my balls deeper into the pan and letting my failing dick drape outside it.”

“I’m starting to think you missed your calling!  I’m already fingering myself!” Shelby chimed in quickly.

Her comment stirs his imagination more.  It’s not hard to imagine Mistress Shelby in his fictional antagonist’s place as he thinks about where his quick story goes.

“When deep breaths stops working and I’m close to bumping the burner over with my crotch, she takes my balls out.  They’re still stinging and dripping with warm water as she starts icing them down.  My scrotum slowly draws tighter until – when it is freezing, hard, wrinkly, and numbing – she starts sucking on them, nipping my tender sack as she makes my cock hard again with a hand.  She works on one side, biting harder and harder, moving from spot to spot.  Just when the pain becomes too much, she stops and waits just long enough to let me cope.  When my dick gets hard again, she starts on the other side.

“The pain is incredible, nothing like I’ve ever known.  Those few inches of skin and the two balls inside it become my world.  For the first time in my life, I’m truly helpless to protect them, and I have no idea if this woman plans to leave me anything to protect.

“She brings me up and down like that, playing me like a book, taking her time, moving from cruelly biting to mauling my sack.  Even when it’s in ruins some long hours later, she proves her dominance over my body by working my cock hard.  That’s when she stops and watches my nuts roll while she gives me a hand job.  As badly as it hurts, it takes a while, but I finally start to cum.  That’s when she smiles evilly and say, ‘Now it’s my turn,’ and dives in for my balls.”

“What do you mean by, ‘dives in for my balls’?”

“Ah... well...” He knew what he meant, but he wasn’t certain he wanted to risk going there.  They had such a good thing going, maybe it would shut her down.

“Does she bite them off?  Eat them?”

He looked at the screen a few seconds before finally answering.  “Yeah.”

“Yeah?  Which?”

“She eats them.”

“How?”

What did she mean, “how?”  How would anyone eat them?  Knowing she wasn’t going to take the short answer, he takes a breath and types.

“I don’t know.  Maybe she hacks them off and cooks them the rest of the way.  Maybe she treats just chews on him until they’re gone.”

“Which would you prefer?”

By then, his penis throbbed hard and pre-cum soaked his underwear.  He couldn’t keep his hand off it.  As he slowly rubbed it, he typed one-handed.  He knew which he wanted, what he’d always wanted.  “She bites them, treats his sack like jerky, tearing it off a wicked bite at a time until his nuts just hang.  Then, with nothing to stop her, she savors his pain by slowly popping his balls while she wastes time jacking off his flaccid cock.”
 
Shelby prefaced her reply with another ‘LOL’.  “Written like a true master.  See, was that so hard?  That’s why I love to read your stuff.  You should hang on to that one.  You could call it “A Night at the Nutcracker Suite.”  After another LOL, she typed, “Too bad I’m not there with a burner.  You’d love my teeth.”

She had never really made it personal before.  Neither of them had.  Even though he felt comfortable with Shelby, and he had quickly switched to imagining her doing the deed, his guard automatically started to go up.  Instinctively, he steered the conversation back toward safer ground.  “I thought you didn’t do that stuff with subs.”

“I don’t.  I never use my mouth for business, ever.”

Nick was a little surprised at how adamant she was about it.  He started to comment when she sent another line.  “But my fantasies aren’t about subs, any more than yours are about willing women.”

“Hey, just because I admitted to like them squirming, doesn’t mean they’re not willing.”

“Now you’re playing word games again.  If you go the distance, somewhere along the way they all want you to stop.  If you don’t stop, it’s not ‘willing.’”  There was a few seconds pause before she typed again.  “And you did it again.”

“Did what again?”

“You changed the subject.”

“Sorry.  Habit.  Fetlife, you know.  Anyway, it’s a fantasy.  I’d never be able to take that kind of pain.”

She persisted.  “But you’d love to try, wouldn’t you?  Helpless while some woman plays out your ultimate dream while all you have to do is hang there and enjoy it.”

His fingers hovered over the keyboard.  Still cautious, he waffled some more.  “You know I’m not submissive.”

As quick as her reply popped up, it was obvious she had expected something like that.  “You wouldn’t have to be.  It doesn’t matter whether you’re submissive or not if you’re tied up and helpless.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop from putting himself in the place of some of the men in her pictures.  He was about to grab his throbbing cock again when her next message popped onto the screen.

“So, want to trade?”

Maybe he should have seen it coming, but Nick stopped in mid-grab.  He hesitated again.  This is when he usually bolted.  But he thought of her full breasts and her incredible, dark nipples surrounded by mouthwatering hard bumps and wrinkles in every picture she posted.  He thought of her mischievous brown eyes dancing, her satisfied smile.  He could almost feel her red lips on him and her white teeth playing at his balls.  She would ply her trade as a Mistress and find that perfect balance between his fantasy and reality.

His fingers moved.  He couldn’t help but ask… “Trade?”

“Sure.  You’re into musicals, and I’ve never been.  Rent a nice hotel room in Dallas.  I’ll meet you there.  You’ll be my sugar daddy for an evening.  If you front for a five-star dinner and a show, I’ll be your Mistress afterward and teach you a lesson.  I bet we can come close enough to realizing our crazy fantasy without actually ruining things.”

His brain screamed a line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.  Run away, run away!   But she had said, ‘our crazy fantasy.’  She wanted what he wanted.  How could it not be a win?  She was pretty, fun, smart, and very, very skilled.  His fingers moved over the keys.  “Which show do you want to see?”

“They’re showing Wicked next week.  Can you get tickets?”

Run away, run away! “I’m pretty sure.”

“Tell me when and where.  You’re in charge everywhere but in the hotel room.  Then I’ll take the reins.”

He stared at the monitor, wondering what the hell he was thinking as he typed.  “It’s a date!”

Continued in Part 3...

A NIGHT AT THE NUTCRACKER SUITE - PART 3
Copyright 2023 by Matt Nicholson

Nick stood with his umbrella ready for about fifteen minutes in the crowd under the awning outside the Fair Park Music Hall.  He watched cabs, Ubers, and Lyfts come and go.  They still had twenty minutes until their dinner reservation when a Yellow Cab pulled up in the center lane, just past the valet stand.  The back passenger door opened and a pair of tightly woven, black fishnets hugging two long legs swung around and out the open door.  As a pair of shiny, black platform heels hit the wet pavement, he had a hunch it was her.  He watched the black leather-clad curves unfold gracefully from the cab while he moved her way.  By the time she stood, he was beside her, holding the umbrella over her.

She smiled and took his arm as if they had met before.  “Brett, I presume?”  There were just enough wrinkles at the corners of her eyes to give him credibility as having good taste in younger women without being a cradle-robber.  The reality was even more lovely than the pictures.  The extra twenty-something pounds she carried had settled perfectly into her breasts and hips.  It made her look slightly Reubenesque rather than overweight, and it definitely added to the illusion he was a man with very good taste.

It felt perfectly natural to smile back.  “Mistress Shelby.”

As they stepped up onto the curb, she laughed and looked around at the other women in the crowd.  “This isn’t business, silly.  ‘Shelby’ is fine.”  She looked around at the crowd.  “My dress is scandalous enough without our advertising anything else.”

Nick wouldn’t have called it ‘scandalous’.  It showed just enough cleavage and thigh to draw eyes – his included – without being tacky.  If it was a decade earlier, she may have raised more brows, but in the much more relaxed atmosphere at the music hall these days, the white lace-trimmed black bodice and thigh-length black skirt still showed far better taste than the jeans and shorts several people wore.  In fact, Shelby pulled the look off so well, it rivaled a fair number of the more classic evening dresses hovering about.

“There’s nothing wrong with ‘scandalous’,” he quipped as he opened the door to the hall and stepped aside to let her in.  “Makes an old guy like me look good.”

She reached up and ran her fingers through his prematurely salty, salt and pepper hair.  “Stop that. You aren’t old, and you look quite good without an arm hang – which I’m not, in any case.”  It was a comfortable gesture of familiarity that made the last vestiges of the unease tugging at his gut vanish.

He folded the umbrella and handed it to a valet.  After giving up their tickets, they strolled through the crowd, working their way toward the indoor open-air restaurant in relative silence while she looked around at the framed playbills, posters, and souvenir booths.

They chatted lightly about the crowd and the show, Dallas, and her drive, as they walked into the restaurant and through the high-priced buffet line.  They both took an extra helping of rare roast beef and a lobster tail, and then they followed the maître de to their table.  Shelby sat primly while the man put the napkin on her lap.  Nick didn’t miss her slight smile when she caught him glancing down her cleavage.

Her smile brightened even more when she saw Nick looking at the same place.  “Thinking about dessert?”

He was in the middle of biting into a slice of roast beef at the time and wasn’t at all sure whether she’d meant the timing deliberately or not.

They hadn’t actually talked about what was on the menu after the show, and he told her so with another glance at her breasts.  “I didn’t know they were on the list of options.”

She speared a cherry tomato and brought it up to her lips.  “Oh, the night’s young.  We’ll see how the menu reads after I’m done with my dessert.”  Her lips caressed the fruit, and then her teeth popped it, just as he’d imagined them doing to a testicle.

He had no doubt she meant the timing then.  “How do you know you’d like being dessert?”

She smiled as her teeth started pressing into another small tomato.  “If we get there, I’ll know.  Trust me.”

“Okay, but how do you know?”  None of her pictures had shown her breasts as anything more than pristine mounds of temptation luring submissives to their doom.  “It’s not like you go there, after all.”

“Oh, I go there.  I just don’t advertise it.”

His curiosity piqued.  “Oh, really?  You’ve never mentioned…”

She laughed at his response.  “Yes, really.  It’s not something I tell many people.  I have a reputation to keep, after all.  Why do you think I loved so many of your pictures?”

“I just thought you were being polite.”

“Polite is loving two or three, not four dozen.  There’s also the fact I’ve read all your books.”

“Really?  Not just the Blue Labels?”

“Every one.  Are you ever going to do a sequel to Carameled Teats and Dragonberry Ale?  It was like Dungeons and Dragons meets The Story of O.  I loved it.  And The Gold Medal Rack… I’m not sure what was more fun, reading about the girl being hunted or imagining myself in her place at the campfire afterward.”  She paused in the middle of bringing a bite of rice pilaf to her mouth.  “Oh, and Deal with the Devil, what she did to him after he finished with her boobs… Oh.  My.  God!”

He tried to hide his surprise.  She had read all his stuff, really read it.

All the stories she had mentioned were among his favorites, too.  They all involved some intense breast torture, and all with a culinary flair.  Switch or not, he couldn’t believe she leaned that far to the masochistic side, so he kept the conversation going on the assumption it was the outdoors settings of all three stories.  “You like the outdoors stuff?”

“Yeah, and the rest.  Definitely the rest.”  She dipped her fork toward her left breast, watching him watch as the tines dimpled her creamy flesh.  “You make the banquet scenes…”  She glanced quickly at the surrounding tables and then slipped the fork beneath her bodice.  When she twisted it, there was no doubt nipple and areola wrapped around the prongs.  “…so hot.”

“You think so?” He almost stammered while trying to carve another bite of meat.  He was very happy the tablecloth kept his crotch hidden.

She tugged the fork from her twisted flesh and speared another cherry tomato.  “Most definitely.  Almost as hot as A Night at the Nutcracker Suite.”

Having forgotten the reference, he frowned.

“Your bucket list story,” she reminded him.  Her lips slid around the ripe fruit and then she popped it between her molars with a wink.  “I can’t wait until after the show.”

Nick had already seen Wicked three times, so – as much fun as the trials of Elphaba and Galinda were the fourth time around – his mind spent more time conjuring images of roast beef and cherry tomatoes than it did on Oz.  By the time the show was over and they had worked their way through the crowd and out the door, the rain came down in buckets – sideways.  In the few seconds it took them to get from the covered awning to the Uber he had called, Shelby was halfway soaked despite the umbrella.  He was drenched.  It was good that the Adolphus was only five minutes away.  It was even better that he had checked in in advance.

All but sprinting, they entered the hotel’s lobby hand-in-hand with her in the lead.  Laughing and breathless as they neared the elevator, she snatched the key card from his hand, glanced at it, and punched the call button.  When the doors parted to an empty box, she dragged him in and punched the number four.

While rubbing her arms, she looked him up and down.  “This place better have plenty of hot water and a sauna.  A fireplace would be great.”  The way her eyes had settled on his crotch made him think back to some of her pictures, and a few of their chats.  Their room had both the Jacuzzi and the fireplace.  For the price of admission, he thought it damned well better have the hot water.  In any case, he prayed she wasn’t looking for a cozy fireside chat.  When the elevator dinged, he stepped aside as the doors split apart.

Once they were open, she took a quick look up the hall.  Seeing no one, she deftly unzipped her bodice.  After giving him a quick look at her naked breasts, she took off at a brisk trot toward their room.  By the time they made the fifty-feet or so, she had shrugged completely out of her top and let her bare, granite-tipped tits bounce in open invitation.  Laughing at his wide-eyed reaction to her daring show, she swiped the card and burst through the door the moment he opened it.  After pausing just long enough to get her bearings, she tossed her purse onto the foot of the bed and moved toward the Cherrywood bathroom door.

“Get out of those wet clothes and meet me in the shower.”  The door closed behind her.

Nick couldn’t get out of his clothes fast enough.  He tossed them into a heap across the back of the nearest leather-bound chair and slung his underwear off his toe toward a corner.  When he opened the bathroom door, he saw that the Jacuzzi was empty.  The glass shower door, however, had fogged with steam. 

Silhouetted behind it, Shelby’s hands moving languorously up her breasts’ lower curves.  When she heard the door close behind him, she smashed the sudsy mounds against the glass.  Her nipples caved back into her areola as they flattened against the clear door.  As he watched them slide for a few seconds, his cock got stiff.  Then he went in after them.

Once inside, he couldn’t help but stare.  The last time he had been in the same room with a naked woman besides ‘Becca was well before the Forbidden Pleasures e-zine went defunct, and it had been far longer since he had been in the shower with one.  He felt like a teenager again, amazed at the gorgeous view in front of him and full of excitement and nerves, feelings he had thought numbed by a decade of peddling BDSM on the side.

Shelby’s laugh mingled with the sound of the shower as she grabbed his hands.  “How cute.”

Her breasts were still soapy, her nipples hard rocks that she pressed into his palms.  He wasn’t certain whether to squeeze or pinch or soap them some more.  He opted for the third.  “What’s cute?”
 
“The look in your eyes.”  She put her hands over his on her breasts and squeezed.  “Is the famous Brett Davidson acting like a teenager over a pair of soapy tits?”

Watching the water run in rivulets around them, he squeezed harder.  “Well, not just your soapy tits.”

Her hands left his and moved to his upper arms.  “I’m flattered, but I’m already clean.  Time to get you soaped up.”

She turned him around until the warm water splashed down his back, and then she tapped his feet apart with her toes. After she snapped the handheld showerhead from its silver holder, she grabbed the soap and lowered herself to her knees in front of him.  A second later, the slippery bar in her hand lifted his balls.  A thrill of excitement rushed through him and his cock bounced without help.

“First we clean ‘em…”

The lighter sound of the water against the ceramic tiles told him she had adjusted the flow to a tighter spray, but it wasn’t until the needle-fine jet hit his scrotum that he realized what she had done with the heat.  He gasped in pain as the burning liquid jetted hard against him, scalding his skin and beating the testicles cupped in her hand.  He could have stopped her, but it was the last thing he wanted to do.  He knew the hotel wouldn’t let the water get dangerously hot, or at least he tried to tell himself that.

“It’s not quite the boiling pan you’d envisioned, but it kills two birds with one stone.” Shelby commented while she sanitized his balls with a wicked mixture of soap, blistering water, and sharp fingernails.  She kept the spray off his cock.  Instead, she stroked his throbbing hard shaft with soap rather than subjecting it to the same cruel scalding.

She didn’t take long, but by the time she finished Nick breathed hard.  Her hand on his cock had him just moments from cumming, while at the same time it was all he could do not to pull his burning balls from her grasp.  When the spray fell from his crotch, he relaxed.  Then she showed him the razor.

Continued in Part4...