Sleeping sucked; every time I rolled over, I woke up due to such sore and sensitive breasts. It reminded me of how much I dreaded another shower (even if it was cooler than the one I’d just had) — and wearing clothes. What bra could possibly be comfortable? So even though sleeping was horrid, I was dreading getting up.
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I managed to make it through a cooler shower. I dried off and dabbed my tender breasts as best I could to minimize the pain.
I went to the medicine chest for what I imagined was my only hope for some comfort, Whoop-Ass Healing Balm. But the tube was gone — in fact, Blackie had cleared the entire house of any & all lotions and creams. No wonder he got up so damn early this morning.
So next it was time to suffer the torment of stuffing angry raw skin into bra cups. Nothing lacy (that would be unbearable!); something with large soft cups to snuggly hold them, so there’s be the least amount of rubbing from the bra and clothing worn over it.
If I solved my immediate breast discomfort, I knew it would only be a few hours until I met Blackie for lunch.
He’d said not to be late, so I knew he had something in mind.
Tags: humiliation, pain not pleasure, power play, rough tit play
