Her breasts are before you like a canvas. You are the artist. You know they are extremely sensitive, and she obviously is extremely proud of them. Some, you know, would tie them or hang her from them, or attach weights to drag them down, make them immobile, but you prefer to leave them free to move--to leap or roll on her chest. You know she uses them to control others, and you want to take her to the hopelessness of realizing that it does not work with you.
First you tease them, trailing the tails of a flogger across them, bouncing the leather against her nipples. Not just for a few seconds, but for full minutes. Toward the end you slide fingers into her pussy and lightly pinch her clitoris, so she feels the electric connection her body has between the two areas. In the beginning, she refuses to respond, but slowly you hear the change in her breathing, the small gasps. She tries to move away, to pull her hips back as far as she is able, but she is stretched and spread tightly enough that her efforts only excite her more. Perhaps you continue long enough to elicit a partially-resisted moan. Almost certainly you feel her pussy begin to drool its hot lubricity, and you know she feels it and is both ashamed and hungered. You jerk them out of her and hear her gasp.
Of course you've been smoking a cigarillo this whole time, your face close to hers, so she can see the tip grow brutally red each time you draw on it and carefully blow the smoke away from her. Her eyes have begun to focus on it as her imagination tells her what comes next. Now you draw deeply and flick the ashes onto her breasts. She flinches away and shakes her breasts to remove them, though they are not really hot. You move the tip closer slowly, approaching her swollen nipple, and she desperately tries to pull away with a small whine in her throat. She can't beg through the gag, but she tries. You follow her attempts, moving closer and closer, then you pull away, puff up the tip again and flick away the ashes. Your other hand takes her breast rudely and roughly--a thing she might have liked in other times--and secure it against her struggles.
Slowly you guide the the tip to the brown aureola and touch it quickly. She jumps and cries out, but you don't release her. Again you press the cooling tip against her flesh and hold it as she helplessly writhes and fights to free herself and she screams. When you release her breast, she sags against her bonds and tries to catch her breath. But she can't look away as you puff up the tip again and clasp her other breast. Now she is fighting desperately and again she screams when she feels the contact.
Finally, as her tears begin to appear, and she is looking down at herself to assess the damage, you heat the tip once more and lower it between her legs. Now she begins fighting as if against death. You do not immobilize her hips, letting her dance, pulling them back, rocking them to the sides. When you plunge the cigarillo home into the center of her pussy, her body arches and freezes from the pain. The hissing sound of fire contacting her wet juices mixes with her heartfelt scream. You leave the small intruder partially inside her, cooling now, until she shakes it out onto the floor.
The dark circles of burned flesh are your first marks. Perhaps some whip strokes next will improve you masterpiece.
