Titslavery

Heavy on Your Mind

Addison loved to tease her good boy. She'd walk around the house in tight revealing clothes. She'd leave her buttons open just a little too deeply. She'd forget to put a bra on under her baggy t-shirt so he could see the points of her nipples as her breasts swayed freely. Never enough to give him what he wanted, but just enough to make him want it more.

She knew she had him wrapped around her finger. She knew that she could make him do almost anything with a promise to give him a peek. And she knew that once he'd had that peek, the "almost" would disappear. He was a well trained boy, after all. He would never demand. He would only beg.

Her presence weighed heavy on him. Her scent made him calm. Her laugh made him smile. But it was her breasts that made him weak. Addison knew how heavy they were, and she knew they would pull on his mind like an anchor.

Stopping his thoughts in their tracks.

Pulling him deeper and deeper under her control.

If only she let him see them.

He was cleaning the house now while she sprawled out on the couch. The bra she wore was blue, and it accentuated her cleavage magnificently. He worked hard. And thanks to the glances he kept making to her deep cleavage, he worked hard.

Still she denied him.

He was on his knees now, face between her legs. He looked up at her, eyes unfocused. From his worshipful vantage, he could see up under her top. He could see the curve of his desires as it rose up and out of sight, still mostly obscured by the scrap of cloth she had chosen today. He knelt there on the absolute edge of trance, his mouth doing everything it could to prove to her that he deserved to see.

And as he brought her to her peak, her back arched. More of her came into view, threatening to exert that wonderful weight on his faltering brain. His eyes widened, hoping her shirt would pull over. Hoping his mind would be pulled over. Pulled down. Down into that deep empty place that her tits anchored him to. But her back straightened and her shirt pulled down instead. He stopped his work, and knelt straighter. His eyes remained fixed on those soft curves, hidden by her top. Nipples poking through like the centers of two spirals that held his focus always.

She ran a finger down his face and thanked him for a job well done. Then in one smooth motion, she pulled her top off and the weight descended upon him all at once. All thoughts stopped, and he surrendered to that divine tug that pulled him over and down and under.

I dashed out from the kitchen and ran to the living room. Hustling knowing my three friends were about to fall victim to...her. Her and her...

Now at the door I saw what the sight I had seen a bunch of times since Ema moved in next door. Ema, with all of her colossal tit meat stuffed into a white blouse so tight it had become sheer her bra was visible, had invited herself to game night.

She didn't look up at me as I arrived. She knew she didn't have to. She had my attention already. She had all of our attentions. All while she simply bounced in her seat. Arching her back so as to show off her jiggling jugs more and more.

I witnessed my three friends, who had been under her spells for more time than me, start to pop. That is they busted a nut one after another. In their pants. All down to Ema's potent jiggle jerk. Mike actually passed out, slumping to the floor like a tree felled in the woods.

10 minutes ago I was arguing with Anne Marie that hypnosis was hogwash.

5 minutes I laughed in her face for suggesting her could capture my mind with just her tits.

A laugh from behind alerted me to the presence of someone else on the patio. The restaurant's opening wasn't for another hour. So who was this bothering me now?

On turning I spied not one but two intruders. Two university girls. One, the laugher, still crackling behind her mate, who stood frozen caught in the act but still with a wide smile on her face. What was she up to? And what was so funny?

She answered both questions by reaching out, latching onto my nipples and playfully twisting. I almost melted at the instant pleasure poured from her hands into my body. "Look at my girls, hun. It will go faster." What will go faster?

My gaze fell upon 'the girls', her fat tits in a blue bikini top. My horniness kicked into overdrive. Bikini girl shook her boobs back and forth in delight at my reaction. Her friend sauntered over to stand behind me, gave me a side hug and whispered in my ears, "We are going to take all of your cash and credit cards, ok?"

I jumped at the threat but both women remained calm. Calm in the knowledge that they, or rather 'the girls' were in control. The laugher continued "now now, just keep staring at my friend's friends and relax." The nipple playing ramped up and I melted again, wiping the threat of being robbed away from my mind.

She pulled down on Her top revealing Cleavage that seemed to go on for miles. She knew you wanted to see them, She knew you were obsessed. She knew the effect they had on you. This had been going on for months. At first, you couldn't believe how massive They were. Their bounce, Their Sway drew you in and practically broke your brain. You went home that night and pleasured yourself, thinking of those Tits. Thinking of Her Words. Her hooks were already deep inside you after just one night.

A week of constant teasing and trancing and you knew there was no going back. When you closed your eyes, you saw Her Tits. When you were at work, Her Tits seemed to bounce all your thoughts away. They were constantly on your mind. Weighing you down. Smothering all thoughts--other than the ones She wanted you to think of course.

Now it seemed like She was going backwards. You hadn't seen Her Tits in days, just hints of Cleavage here and there. A jiggle under Her sweater. A bounce in Her shirt. But you still couldn't stop thinking about Her Tits. It only served to make you more obsessed. More desperate for Her Tits and the pleasure that only She could provide. You knew She had you wrapped around Her finger, but you had know idea how powerful She really was.

Long, frustrating sessions of teasing and denial had made you even more dependent on Her Tits for your pleasure. But you hadn't even seen Her Nipples in weeks. Just Cleavage. Just Bouncing. Just Swaying.

"Please..." You whimper as Her finger tugs Her top down, revealing Her endless Cleavage. "I need Them..."

You blink a few times while walking along the sand. Looking down you see two drinks in your hand, a cool, welcome respite from the smothering humidity.

"What the..." you mutter to yourself. Utterly confused, you look around and survey the surroundings. Squinting as your eyes gaze across the crystal blue water reflecting a blindingly and scorching sun, you turn and see you're standing in front of beachfront resort. An incredibly lavish one at that. A far cry from the snow covered streets of Boston.

"How did i..." your thoughts trail off as you continue to take in your surroundings. Shaking your head in confusion you can see it's a fairly secluded stretch of beach, few people around in the scattered beach chairs. your legs continue walking you towards the cabanas, as if you are on auto-pilot.

"Took you long enough." you hear someone talking to you from the next cabana over. you look up and a wave of pleasure washes over you. In front of you is easily the most beautiful Woman you've ever seen. She has Her impossibly Huge Tits stuffed into a bikini top that is clearly too small. The straps looking as if they might snap from Their impressive weight.

"Who... What is happening?" you ask, still holding the two iced drinks. You have a vague recollection of seeing this Woman before, you just can't place from where. Certainly you'd remember seeing those Tits before, Bigger than any you had ever seen. Another wave of pleasure washes over you as you realize you've been staring far longer than is socially acceptable.

"Oh is someone having independent thoughts again?" She giggles as She takes one of the drinks you hand to Her without even realizing. Clearly She can read the confusion that is all over your face. God, Her voice is just so smooth and seems to penetrate you to your very core. You feel Her words so much more than anything else. Over the faint music from the pool deck, the crashing of the surf, nothing can compete with Her Words.

"Seems like someone needs a different kind of refresher." Another wave of pleasure passes over you as She takes your drink out of your hands. your eyes still locked onto Her Tits, which you've belatedly noticed have begun Jiggling and Swaying in that orange top She's stuffed Herself into. The confusion you've felt, fading away along with all your other thoughts. your eyes start to feel heavy as you continue to stare at Her Tits. your mind emptying, your jaw hanging slightly slack. It feels like every time you try to think, your mind runs into a brick wall. No, not a brick wall. A soft, fleshy one that seems to smother everything that isn't Her Words. You realize that top isn't the only thing She is stuffing her Huge Tits into as your body unthinkingly walks you over to the cabana next to Her.

Jonathan strode proudly towards the classroom door. He was a wealthy, powerful man, and his expensive suit highlighted that he hasn't let his frame slide far into "dadbod" despite entering his 50s. None of the other parents waiting in the halls for parent teacher conferences could compete with his aura; and he noticed more than a few mothers eyeing him hungrily and fathers comparing with envy. Not the smallest difference was that Johnathan was on the move. He didn't wait, didn't waste his time. He made meetings with you, and you better be ready when he arrived. Even the senior French teacher his daughter constantly complained about. Well, that ended today. Normally school affairs were the purview of his wife (part of the arrangement the power couple struck when she sold her most recent tech startup for a healthy 2mil), but Annalise had been surprisingly cagey about this "Ms Demoux". Waffling back and forth, making excuses to avoid confrontation, pleading with him to trust the teacher; all very strange behavior for a driven visionary like his wife. He considered letting it go, everyone had annoying teachers after all, but when their daughter complained that Ms Demoux had given her yet another detention for "back talk", Jonathan demanded action. Annalise's oddly simpering questions about whether their daughter deserved the punishment forced him to do it himself. He treasured his daughter's bold, creative spirit. His career in business had been built on the back of shocking disruptions, on embracing ideas from outcasts, and he wasn't going to have his daughter be a follower just because some teacher wanted an easier job!

Jonathan slammed the door to the classroom open, a demand for explanations already on his lips, but he was shocked into silence.

Perched on the edge of her desk, in an outrageous outfit, the surprisingly young Ms Demoux eyed him with amusement. Before he could react to the surprise, she made a small gesture for him to close the door. Still flustered, he was glad of the excuse to turn away and close the classroom from potential watchers. When he turned back, one set of perfectly manicured nails played along her tawdry stilletos, and a predatory grin made her face even more beautiful. As she ran a single fingertip seductively up the egde of her sheer-clad leg, a matching blush crept up Jonathan's face for the first time in years. He cleared his throat, and Ms Demoux giggled, and rose to her feet. She strode across the classroom, and he got a whiff of vanilla, lavender, and a hint of warm leather from the intoxicating perfume she wore, even halfway across the room.

"I thought," Ms Demoux purred, "what I did to wifey would be enough to solve the last problem student in my classes this semester. But when I saw you make a personal conference appointment, I knew I'd have to break out the big guns..." She trailed off as she stepped a stride closer to him than he'd expected. Barely inches away, her face only coming up to mid chest height despite her towering heels. A beautiful face, he couldn't help but observe. Redolent with the sensual scent of vanilla and leather, wide expanse of tawny cleavage visible from above, heart shaped pout to her lips-- Jonathan abruptly released he was utterly hard. Up close, what had been trashy and provocative across the room transmuted into pure, gorgeous perfection. He opened his mouth to ask what she meant when she cupped his crotch, hand wrapping around his already rigid cock. She laughed.

"Oh wow, working already! This is going to be easy," Ms. Demoux stuck her chest out even farther, and he grunted as his eyes dropped down, "You like breasts, mister businessman? I suppose that makes sense, wifey didn't have any other assets, did she?" He began to pushback, to demand an explanation, some kind of sense to this wild encounter. It didn't bother her at all though. In a single deft motion, Ms Demoux slipped a small perfume bottle from the top of her skirt, brought it up to his mouth, and squirted a blast into his eyes, nose, and throat. The whole world exploded into cascades of lavender, vanilla, whiskey, rose, and warm leather. Something primal and hungry awoke in him, shuttering all thought. Something awoken by the sights on display, but lulled and soothed by the complex scent. He was paralyzed, unable to marshall a thought, a will, anything but open hungry craving for the woman. She wafted away the fumes that weren't sticking to his face and lowered the hand with the small, hidden, respirator from her face. She looked very satisfied, and he suddenly wanted to satisfy her, to be with her, to drive raw joy for both of them. Taking a step back, she placed perfume bottle and respirator on a nearby desk, and began to heft her own breasts with both hands.

"That's right boobie boy, look right here. Take them in, the perfect breasts--" she said it and it was true. His scattered mind locked onto that word: perfect. They were perfect. Better than any he'd ever seen or wanted before. "Good. You want them, want me, want to please me, more than anything in the world. You'll do anything for them, for me. Won't you? Kneel," she purred and he obeyed. Instantly, without thought. She was right, so right.

"Now, I tried to make wifey embarrassed of failing me, ashamed of not bringing your kid in line, but clearly your wife is better at living with shame than I thought. For you, I'm going to be more direct," Ms. Demoux gave her breasts a squeeze, and he whimpered. "If you ever want to see these, ever want to enjoy these, ever want to enjoy any breasts on any woman ever again, you're going to solve my brat problem." She leaned in close, perfect cleavage filling his entire vision and her whispers in his ear. "Until you see these, you're never going to be able to get them out of your head. Pornography, models, your wife, any other time you feel attracted, the absences of these perfect boobs is going to bother you to the point of distraction," as soon as the whisper went in, he knew it was true. What was anything without these perfect tits?! He began to beg, pleading, almost crying with despair, needing to see them. She just smiled.

"That's the easy part. All you have to do is go home and teach your daughter the value of authority. Teach her respect and obedience to teachers and other authority figures. You do whatever it takes to break her of this habit of constantly asking questions, correcting people, and arguing for more points, and their yours. I give students the grades I think they deserve, scores be damned, and if you get her to calmly accept the C I feel she deserves, get her to do all her homework for the next month without a single backtalk, and I'll pay a visit to my most obedient couple and give them thekr rewards. Understand?" He nodded eagerly. He would do it. He would do anything. Mistress Demoux wiped the last of the hypnotic perfume from his face, and escorted him to the door. He stumbled out into the hallway, before heading home with a purpose.

Six weeks later, Jonathan and Annalise waited patiently by the poolside as Mistress Demoux enjoyed their pool. The French teacher (whose name they both moaned during sex) was satisfied with how they'd finally managed to turn their daughter into an easy, unquestioning, student, and had come to finally show them what they couldn't stop dreaming about. All the weeks of tears, angry teenage recriminations, and threats of running away would be worth it to finally see the teacher nude. Mistress Demoux hasn't yet told them about the way extra perfume in her bag...

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I have a book out! Exposē is the story of an investigative reporter who finds new desires stoked in her heart as she investigates a secretive sex club!

Thanks to everyone who checks it out, the support means a ton, and jra even free on Kindle unlimited!

It's so lonely, down here in the ocean. It would be so nice if you stared at these for a bit. Look at them. Really look. Notice the glow. The gentle way they draw your eyes in. How they draw you closer.

Don't you want to come a little closer? I promise that you can trust me. Listen to my sweet voice. How melodic and hypnotic it is. You're safe around me. You know that what I say is true. Just come a little closer. Into my loving embrace.

Watch them sway back and forth. So beautiful. So... Full.

It's okay to stare. But you shouldn't touch. Not yet. Not me. But if, as you watch my tits sway back and forth, you find your fingers wrapping around your cock, that's okay.

Just stare and stroke. Back and forth. Up and down. Keep your time with mine. Follow along. Follow my lead. Submit to my direction.

Obey.

And sleep.

-----

She said my friends had asked her to help.

She said she was all to glad to help.

She said don't be nervous and began to shake and shimmy her incredible chest in front of me.

She said just accept, just observe and just enjoy.

"But baby...I want to get off. And you know how I love to use your dozing face." She laughed as she saw my eye lids begin to droop. Lulled into tiredness by her jiggling jugs.

I desperately grabbed at the edge of the bed in hopes of launching myself onto the floor, aiming for the shock of the fall to snap out of it. But found my arms useless. I was putty in her hands while staring longingly down her top.

Another summer's day and stuck doing another chore in the backyard. I toss my paint brush on the ground, wipe my brow and turn to find a beer. But at the end of my turn, I find myself facing Amelia, my wife's older sister.

Sigh. Ok. Need to be on form. I dusted myself off , took off my shoes and plodded my way to the kitchen. Which random neighbour invited themselves over for tea with my wife who just can't say no.

"Honey, meet Mel." My wife brightly noted as I came into her view, and my view zeroed in on the hot woman at our breakfast bar.

Wallowing in self pity I let out a loud breathe out, looking down at the table. That was until a name card slid into my view. Carmen?

Carmen made herself known with a soft touch of my shoulder as she poured her curvy body into the seat next to me. "Hi hun, ready to simply melt for me..."

She raised her arms up to fix her hair. My eyes fixed themselves on her deep cleavage as she continued..." That's it hun. Just stared and enjoy. Let yourself go."

I barely heard that, so intense was my focus on her breast. Further aided by Carmen reaching back around to my right shoulder and gently drawing me closer to the her tits.

She shyly eyes me up and peers away quickly, saying "Hi". "Hi Rose" I reply. This frightens her enough to drop her paper work at my feet. We both squat down to grab her papers. I can't help by sneak a peek down her lovely top and at her more than lovely breasts.