I let out a loud groan as this sadistic bitch sucks hard on my nipple, somehow getting more of my breast in you mouth than I would have thought possible then pull it up, sucking it, pulling the blood up into the already hard nub in a way that actually hurts far more than I imagined it would, and yet the pain is firing the pleasure circuits in my head as though I've had some sort of short circuit.<br/><br/>If only it were that simple... I try imagining that I'm just a machine, made of plastic and metal and put together specifically for your pleasure, but the image fails before I can even get into it as you slap my boobs, and the fact that I am enjoying this treatment makes me even more disgusted with myself. The slap pulls me back to reality and I whimper softly, tears running down my face from under whatever is covering my eyes.<br/><br/>She comes back and her backside presses my belly again, and something icy cold on my skin makes me flinch. She asks a question and I know the answer I would give: I want to talk so I can spit in your face and curse you, your parents and grandparents to an eternity of suffering, while at the same time pleading and begging you to let me go. On the whole it would probably be better if you didn't remove the gag. But at the same time, if I've not seen your face, you can let me go and I won't identify you to police.<br/><br/>Although my scream of pain would be louder if you did. Unable to see, I have no idea what the cold line of metal is, nor what it has at the ends, so the sudden harsh bite on my nipple is both agonising and unexpected, I wonder if it's your teeth, if you plan to bite my nipple off, but you are still talking and your voice is higher up. and the pressure doesn't get worse, but stays at unbearable. I feel the line of cold metal move again and remember it moving before the bite on my nipple. Sudden awareness of what it is makes me whimper in anticipation even before the crocodile jaws close on the more sensitive of the two buds, the one you sucked on, which is already tingling and craving attention.<br/><br/>Knowing what to expect from the second one just makes it worse. I scream again, then subside into whimpers. Scream again as both clamps tighten.<br/><br/>I feel her face push through my cleavage as her weight presses down evenly on me now, and the cold weight of what I assume is a chain connecting the clamps disappears, lifted up. Suddenly there is bright, blinding light. I screw my eyes closed and then blink a few times as my eyes adjust and the light fades to something much more manageable. And I see her face, that smile I remember as it offered me the glass that had the drug in it. Memory floods back, how she flirted with me, and I told her I wasn't interested, her apologising and offering to buy me a drink to make it up to me, and me, foolishly, accepting... At least that's how I remember the evening. I'm sure the bitch has a totally different recollection of the events.<br/><br/>These thoughts pull my eyebrows towards each other, furrowing the bridge of my nose, and my eyes narrow. And suddenly she is pulling away, when it seemed she had been on the verge of kissing me. Her expression looks hurt as if I have just paid her a crushing insult. Fot the first time I see the chin around the back of her neck leading down t those two excruciatingly painful clamps. That are tugged upwards, stretching the flesh of my breasts and causing a groan of agony.<br/><br/>Of course I don't like her, she drugged and kidnapped me and is making a twelve course banquet out of raping me, but... I need her to come back down and not tear my nipples off... I force myself to let out a soft, endearing little whimper, fluttering my eyelids and half closing them in the hope that it looks as sexy on me as it does on those internet porn stars. And I force myself to smile at you as best I can around the gag, pulling my cheeks up at least.