Tits

She smiled as the played with the bra that was already straining under the weight of her breasts before she began to pull at it. The fabric stretched and naturally my eyes were drawn to it. I’m ashamed to admit I was hoping for a slip, what now thanks to Janet Jackson is called a wardrobe malfunction.

“Men aren’t the only ones who like to look. A woman’s breasts are beautiful, sexy things. They capture the eye and you’re just waiting there, paused to see if something slips,” she said. Her voice was smooth like silk, warm and inviting a friendly voice like a teacher I once had. She was talking about her breasts much in the same way that someone might talk about a nice pin they had on.

She continued, “We put so much association on tits. We grow up nursing on them, and they make us feel warm and relaxed safe and secure. They arouse us, men want to play with them and women love the feel of hands caressing them. Men and women love to look, deeply and feel drawn to breasts. Easy to look at as they relax, naturally relax. Hoping to see a little more, thinking of the feelings of warmth of relaxation of a mother’s milk or sex and stimulation of a night of passion.”

I nod, it makes sense what she’s saying though I’m not sure why she’s saying it. This seems like a weird conversation to be having here in the apartment that I share with my boyfriend apartment. I had walked in on him and his friends sitting in chairs around the apartment all eyes on her as she talked to them in this half naked state. I was confused and annoyed at finding this big breasted woman telling my boyfriend things like the more he his cock grew the more mindless he became.

When I had asked who she was she had simply smiled and began to play with the bra, which was where we began.

I think.

It’s awful hard to think right now. The bra lowers. I’m starting to feel wet, and horny and yet sort of far away. Foggy. 

She smiled. Or was still smiling. I… 

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice cutting through my confusion. She stands and approaches me, taking my hand in hers and bringing it up. “These boys were at my show, I’m an erotic hypnotist. They were such good volunteers, so open and obedient. So relaxed and compliant. Just looking at my tits, no thoughts in your head. Good Girl. So I thought I’d give them a private show. A very expensive private show, but they were so eager to pay whatever I asked.”

She presses down on my arm which she had raised and it falls limply to my side. My head is inclined downward, staring at her breasts. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, not noticing that my own breathing has matched hers. Slow. Deep.

A hand on my chin moves my gaze upwards to her eyes. Deep. Brown. I’m lost almost immediately. She smiles, purring words that I don’t really follow anymore. I just listen. 

Two hours later she is helping the boys enter their banking passwords into the computer so that they can PayPal her for the private show. I’ve finished packing my bags, putting everything I need for a life as Mistress’ new stage assistant into two small suitcases. My boyfriend can send the rest back to my parents’ place.

Mistress smiles at me as I follow her to her car, “I always find unexpected treasures when I make house calls.”