Mega Tits 1

by DrkFetyshNyghts

  “I'm gonna have some fun with you, tit-whore.”

  She stroked the nipple as she whispered to Dorothea but then as she came to the end of the sentence, right at that precise time she 'flicked' the nipple again and Dorothea screamed out loud. The first flick seemed to have hurt like she had never experienced hurt before. But the second flicks seemed much worse. It was worse, because Selina had adjusted her 'flick' slightly, imperceptibly. She had altered the angle that the tip of her nail came in, just a little and she had increased the velocity. To the naked eye the changes would have been impossible to see or detect but it was becoming clear that Selina had 'specialities' within her sadistic makeup. It seemed that she was able to inflict intense and tortuous pain with an expertise and an ease that belied her almost tender years. It was clear, or becoming acutely clear that she was a specialist in the micro torture that involved very little of her effort. Dorothea shuddered bodily as much as she could shudder when fixed in that chair and secured further by the flattened compressed mounds of her tits. The smile on her face had started to come back after that first hit of pain – but with the second 'flick' of the long slender finger and the deadly accurate nail that smile had gone and there was the pain inside her again. She could feel the silktex moving and expanding in her – then she felt what was like an electric bolt travelling through her cervix. The same electric bolt changing direction and finding her womb, and then her bowels and her bladder. For what must have just been a split second, but what 'seemed' a lot longer, her inside femininity was filled and suffering with the most intense, shuddering pain and discomfort. She had never experienced the silktex electric shocks before and it seemed that there was evolution happening inside her – another level of control and torture over her that she could do nothing about. Her eyes bulged open wide as the shock bit, and then bulged a little more as the stuff, the thing up inside her expanded causing another kind of agony. The smile came back but it seemed like that it was torture itself for her to smile. The most bizarre and cruel thing for her to have to smile to ease the torture inside her, and yet that movement, of her facial muscles making the hurt worse. Her udders in terrible agonies and Selina, arm draped over the back of her own chair her thin lips stretched into a smile. It was a genuine smile but not a kind one. It was a smile that would tell anyone that somehow, just somehow this girl knew what Dorothea was suffering. She just knew what and how much Jugsalina was suffering – not just that, but also that she was enjoying that suffering. A quite disturbing thing – for Dorothea to see – such a young girl and yet so advanced in the enjoyment she got from someone else's suffering. She flicked the same nipple again and there it was that instant pain. Smile gone – silktex working inside her. As she flicked the nipple teat, she reached for the other nipple. She didn't flick that one, she simply stroked it invoking pleasure pulses through the agonies of the breast it was attached to. It might have been thought that Selina would switch from nipple to nipple – pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. But no, it was an advanced and conscious decision and action that saw her pain the same nipple time after time. Just pain it, then stroke it – then pain it then stroke it. Time after time. The rest of the girls in the class turning to watch. Some smiling – others not.

  “Now now girls, settle down. It’s lesson time. And there is one 'pupil' for want of a better description, here who needs to concentrate to the fullest possible in order that she passes her final exams this time round. As we all know, Hooter School does not take failure too kindly. We do not take failure at all and this 'pupil' Jugsalina is at the last-chance-saloon as it were. Now we all know that we are nothing if not fair here at Hooter School – but well, as fairness goes, it is subjective. We should all be giving Jugs here every chance, every little bit of help so that she passes her final exams this time round. But as anyone who is familiar with the way things work here – fairness, well, it’s just a word – its true what they say, you have to be cruel to be kind. And this very analogy applies to Jugs – without being too precise about what I am saying, we don't want to make it easy for Jugs – indeed we want to go out of our way to make it very very hard for her here. We need to ensure that her second stint at Hooter School is one that she will never ever forget.”

  Hooter Tutor spoke to the quiet room. Selina looked back over her shoulder again and smiled. If there was anyone who could make Dorothea's life misery, it was Selina and she was being given express permission to do just that.

  PART TWO

  A Second Chance – Part One

  © Copyright DrkFetyshNyghts, 2012

  The right of DrkFetyshNyghts to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This electronic book published by Fiction4All

  Imprint: FetishWorld

  http://www.a1adultebooks.com

  Chapter One - Dreamland

  That shard of light – it would make anyone blink it was so bright – almost blinding. Almost as blinding as Dorothea had been teasing throughout her life. It couldn't be any more true to say that Dorothea had 'teased' her way through life. It was how she got on – how she made her way in life. From the very earliest recollection of her schoolgirl teases. It wasn't just that she teased in those days – she did it in the most deliberate and conspiratorial fashions. Smoking behind the bike sheds, or in the lower, basement corridors of the school, was high on the list of the all-girls school 'offences' which was being punishable by exclusion from the school. And yet, the way Dorothea carried out her teasing sessions in that dim and distant past was under the disguise of 'smoking behind the bike sheds'. It was as though, smoking behind the bike sheds was the lesser offence than taking your hooters out and shoving them in some younger boys, or girls face. To be fair – it was a lesser offence and in most cases, being caught smoking behind the bike sheds was treated with a warning, two warnings or even three. But back then smoking was cool amongst adults. Being caught flaunting one's tits behind the bike sheds though – well now that would take on a whole new air – a whole new viewpoint would be taken if a girl was caught doing that. Just taking them out, giving them a bit of a fling and a swing in front of a younger boy pupil would be bad enough. But if that said boy was then pinned against a wall and then smothered in all of that teenage breast flesh until he was a blubbering wreck – well that would take on a whole new stance – and a whole new look would have to be taken to it. It would come under the mantel of lewd behaviour for a start and quite unacceptable in the overall scheme of the school. There would also be the fact that it would be looked on as bullying – pinning a fellow pupil against a wall, or on the stinking floor of the school changing rooms or toilets could not be looked on as anything other than bullying. Especially if the said pupil had ended up flustered and in streams and streams of tears begging to be left alone as a hard nipple was dipped in and out of his, or her quivering mouth. So it was better, if any questions were asked, that it was disguised as 'smoking behind the bike sheds'. It was how Dorothea got through her school life – she teased her way through it – like she got her grounding in it through school – kind of perfected her art and prepared her for later life – when she was out in the big wide world.

  Those were the days – schooldays. Everything was so black and white and with no complicated greys in between. It had all been so simple for Doro
thea – so simple to explain to herself, and to others. If she used her tits against another boy, younger, older, even older men, then it was a sexual thing. But it wasn't a sexual thing because SHE got any particular sexual pleasure from it. It was sexual because she knew that that’s what the opposite sex looked on her as. That was what she did to the opposite sex – she turned them on. So the whole flaunting, flashing, teasing, bullying thing with the male of the species was a sexual thing. But, on the other hand, when she used her breasts and any part of her emerging femininity against another girl, or another woman, then she was using her hooters, her jugs, her bazookas as 'weapons'. She was using her femininity as a weapon. Somehow and for some reason, some inexplicable reason it ceased to be sexual – it ceased to be categorised like that and she was simply using her 'weapons' against her same sex peers. That thought sort of made her laugh. Her tits were weapons – more superior weapons that almost any other girl at school had. She had weapons of mass destruction and she wasn't afraid to use them. Even some of the female teachers, and helpers and other staff looked on Dorothea with some envy – jealousy, bitchiness. Unfortunately for Dorothea that was a pattern that would follow her into later life.

  “Ahhhhhhh pleeeeease Dorothea that hurtssssss please stop.”

  Dorothea had stepped out of the shadows in that lower corridor and Tommy had practically wet himself on the spot. He wasn't experienced with the opposite sex – not to any stretch of the imagination. Indeed his only experience was limited to the visions that filled his mind during his lonely days, and when he went to bed at night, during the times when he could play with himself, and ejaculate the contents of his testicles into a tissue. That had been it with him – he had discovered by complete accident the orgasmic process when he had reached, then jumped up to climb the slightly angled steel pole of a set of child swings in the park. He had wrapped his legs around the pole and then proceeded to use his leg muscles, arms muscles, all muscles to pull and slide himself up the pole. It was then that he got 'that' sensation down there. At first it had made him whimper, but it had been such an intense feeling of pleasure that he had pulled himself up more and more – and eventually, as he neared the top cross bar of the swing frame he had felt the warm wet stuff fill his tight pants – and he had felt the throb and throb of his hard cock. It had been during the few seconds of that first orgasm that his mind had been filled with images of Dorothea – like hundreds and hundreds of images of her on a continuous loop – images like ones he saw every day, of her in uniform, of her almost spilling out of her uniform, but then also ones that he made up in his own mind. More lewd ones – ones where she didn't 'almost' spill out of her uniform, she actually did – and those were the images that he could revel in – the ones that fed the crush he had on this girl.

  Dorothea had practically ambushed little Tommy Boyle in the lower corridor of the school – twisting her fist into his hair. And he had a lot of hair. A thick curly mop of ginger hair which she just had to reach out and grab. She had targeted Tommy because she had 'caught' him looking at her in a 'funny' way. Not once, but many times. She had just happened to look across and there he was, just looking at her all doe eyes and in her mind 'weirdly'. In her mind it didn't even dawn on her that he had some sort of schoolboy crush on her. Who wouldn't – the girl they were all talking about. The one with the big tits and the luscious lips. But Dorothea had always been a product of her own upbringing. Maybe something hidden in her upbringing somewhere – something that she didn't talk about or relate to anyone. Something dark even. Very rarely would she see the good in anyone – it was always the worse she saw. Consequently if someone looked at her for longer and more lingeringly in her mind than would be considered normal, then their motives must be weird. In the case of Tommy, he simply MUST have been a little pervert and one who would have to pay the price.

  He had practically wet himself when Dorothea had cornered him in the lower corridor of the school. There was nothing down there but changing rooms and toilets, and a less traffic filled route to any other part of the school. But once she had spotted him staring at her, and had made that mental note – she had made it her business to watch and note his movements. He always used the bottom corridor. She was convinced that he did that so that he could undertake his weird, perverse hobbies. She had reasoned that he probably even had some spy holes and little hideaways that he used so that he could spy into the female changing room. Once again it didn't even occur to her that he used the corridor because overall he preferred his own company and that route was indeed the less populated one and the fastest one to his next lessons – or to the next extended session in the school library. On this day, he didn't get to the library. Probably it would be safe to say that Tommy would never be the same again after his close encounter with Dorothea – the sixth form sex on legs that most of the school population had expressed a desire to splash around inside of for an hour or so. Dorothea had stepped out of the shadows quite casually as Tommy had made his way quite unawares through the dimly lit corridor. That had been one of his 'visions' – her stepping out and slowly unbuttoning her school blouse until the overspill and the bulge of her tits spilled out. To his mind, it was pointless her wearing the bras that she wore. They kept nothing hidden and if truth be known, those bras just made Dorothea all the more fuckable. But that was just the visions and the thoughts that filled his mind. Those visions and thoughts were secret for fucks sakes. As she had stepped out in front of him in that corridor, it wasn't a vision, or a fantasy, it was real life and he had practically wet himself on the spot. She was unbuttoning her blouse and her tits were rippling and spilling out. But as much as he wanted to feed the need in him and keep his eyes fixed on those bags of fun his eyes kept darting up to her eyes. Her face. She was not smiling all seductively, and pouting her full red lips like she did in his fantasies. Instead her eyes were wide, and her otherwise full sensuous lips were stretched into something that at the very least resembled annoyance and at the other end of the spectrum, anger. At first, in that instance that she stepped out, she simply stood with her long legs splayed against the tightness of her school skirt – that had been until she had popped the third and fourth button down so that the shirt was open and loose almost down to the waistband of the skirt. But then, kind of like all of a sudden she had changed that pose, perfect stance into a march towards him. Her heeled shoes making definite, sharp clicks on the floor. His heart missed several beats and he seemed rooted to the spot. That had been the point at which he had nearly wet himself. He couldn't look at her face then – instead as she marched, and strode towards him with those purposeful strides, his eyes had at last been fixed on her partly exposed breasts. The length of her strides, and the speed dictating the bounce, the ripple and the jiggle of that tit flesh. Poor Tommy had never experienced such conflicting emotions. He knew that he should turn and run but couldn't. He felt compelled to stay and watch the tits as they did their thing on the march towards him. It was like he didn't, or couldn't think of the consequences of not turning and running in the opposite direction. It was like, in his own deeper mind that those fantasies had spilled into his real life – that they were no longer confined to his secret inner mind – and because of this he needed to lap it all up. He needed to see and experience those marching, bouncing, swaying, jiggling tits. The power of femininity at work.

  “I've got a bone to pick with you you little cunt.”

  Mesmerised by those jugs of flesh he was barely aware of Dorothea reaching him and then twisting his hair in her fist. It was the yank of his head sideways that brought him back to reality. Dorothea towering in front of him, her breasts, her jugs, her hooters so close to him. And he could smell her. Perfume, that heady, sweet flowery smell. He didn't get any of that in his visions or his fantasies. The smell of her though, so close so real bringing another dimension.

  “Ahhhhhhh pleeeeease Dorothea that hurtssssss please stop.”

  By the time he had managed to get that stuttering pleading out he was
pressed up against the wall and Dorothea, the woman of his dreams and fantasies was pressed right up to him, even closer. Her weight was on him – and the combination of his fear, her weight, and the crush of her breasts almost enveloping his throat, was enough to render him helpless.

  “Little perverts like you need to be taught a lesson – a valuable lesson in life and that's just what I'm going to do. No library for you today, pervert.”