Beat 'Em or Bite 'Em 'Til Dawn: Yet More Erotic Stories of Breasts and BDSM

By Matt Nicholson

Welcome to the fourth anthology in Matt Nicholson’s world of erotic sex and BDSM. In these stories the pace is fast, the women are well-used and wanting, and no breast goes unpunished. If you enjoy stories where the characters play hard and the sky is often the limit as to how hard they get to play – or be played with – this anthology is all for you. “Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em ‘Til Dawn” collects eleven tales that will have you reading one-hand in no time, including:

Ten Perfect Breasts
She Flies Through the Air
Dreams of Milk and Cookies
The Making of a Handmaiden
Better in Black and Blue
Tits on the Table
Tan-lined Tits and a TKO
The Reluctant Master
Daring the Serpent to Strike
Good Enough to Eat

(Editor's Note: This work contains graphic language and sometimes extreme depictions of consensual female bondage and sexual sadomasochism. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darker Pleasures
• Release date: Jul 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370129010

Matt Nicholson

Matt Nicholson is a freelance writer and editor for Darker Pleasures Publications, which makes him lucky enough to have written or edited all, or parts of, every story Darker Pleasures has published.Matt is a fan of both hard breast-oriented BDSM as well as hard femdom CBT. His tales, and those of his co-authors, range from R-rated erotica to hard bondage and more extreme BDSM fantasy. Their stories are available individually or in a number of anthologies including the "Tales of Submission" series, the "Beat 'Em or Bite 'Em" series focusing on breasts and BDSM, and the "Bust 'Em or Bite 'Em" series focusing on ball busting and hard CBT.When asked about his work, he says, "My goal is to make your most daring dreams of tit torture or cock and ball torture come to life. I want you to want to be in my character’s shoes, no matter how far from safe and sane the scene might be. Depending on your kink, you might not dare some of it in real life, but the idea still makes your cock stir or your pussy wet. I want to make sure you can’t help but wonder. That’s why we have fiction, to get around real life sensibilities. You read it to live in a world of BDSM you can’t live outside of the covers of a book."So, if you dream of being on the receiving end of such things and think Matt may be onto something, sit back and spread your legs. If your fantasy is to take a pair of tits or balls to the cleaners, turn on your reading lamp and settle in. Oh, and hear would love to hear what you think at mattnicholsonwriter (at) gmail.com.

Book preview

Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em ‘Til Dawn:

Yet More Erotic Stories of Breasts and BDSM

By Matt Nicholson

Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em ‘Til Dawn

Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords

Copyright 2017, Darker Pleasures

Cover image by nickfreund/123RF Stock Photos

Other Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em Volumes

Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em: Erotic Stories of Breasts and BDSM

Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em Some More: More Erotic Stories of Breasts and BDSM

Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em Again: Still More Erotic Stories of Breasts and BDSM

The Ultimate Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em: Collecting Volumes 1 – 3 of the Series

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This work contains graphic language and depictions of sometimes extreme consensual and semi-consensual female bondage and sexual sadomasochism.  It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age.  This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  All characters depicted in this work are eighteen years of age or older.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or redistribute this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.  The Handmaid’s Tale is copyright 1985, O. W. Toad, Ltd.  For information, contact Darker Pleasures, webmaster at darkerpleasures.com.

Ten Perfect Breasts

She Flies Through the Air

Dreams of Milk and Cookies (with Angelique)

The Making of a Handmaiden

She Flies Through the Air

Better in Black and Blue

Tits on the Table(with Jude Mason)

Tan-lined Tits and a TKO(with Elizabeth Faraday)

The Reluctant Master(with Marilyn Harris)

Daring the Serpent to Strike

Good Enough to Eat

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

Ten Perfect Breasts

She Flies Through the Air

Dreams of Milk and Cookies

The Making of a Handmaiden

Better in Black and Blue

Tits on the Table

Tan-lined Tits and a TKO

The Reluctant Master

Daring the Serpent to Strike

Good Enough to Eat

INTRODUCTION

Welcome to my fourth Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em anthology! Sorry it’s taken so long to get here, but since my publisher branched out into other areas, I’ve been writing stories outside of my usual breast-oriented comfort zone. Truth be told, I have had another anthology published since Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em Again – two in fact. Bust ‘Em or Bite ‘Em, and Bust ‘Em or Bite ‘Em Again are geared more toward the CBT crowd, however. In any case, here we are, back to tormenting breasts – where I’ll always belong.

This volume is a little more eclectic than the previous three. Though every story focuses on my typical brand of erotic, breast-centric fun, several stories hit them from different angles, as it were. For example, Ten Perfect Breasts takes more of a group approach, while Tan-lined Tits and a TKO jumps into the world of tit boxing – a first for me – with plenty of bruises to share. And, speaking of bruises, Better in Black and Blue goes there with a tale about a couple looking for just the right person to play rough with her while hubby watches.

Daring the Serpent to Strike combines both tit torture and CBT in a tale that really takes things outside the box. Good Enough to Eat is this anthology’s foray into the more enthusiastic biting stories I’m pretty well known for, but with a bit of a Matrix-world twist. And, while I’m talking about alternate fiction tie-ins, The Making of a Handmaiden is set in a near-future society based on Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. Who says Netflix isn’t inspirational?

I’ve also included collaborations with three of the best female BDSM writers I’ve met. Elizabeth Faraday is my partner on the aforementioned Tan-lined Tits… while Jude Mason wrote the original story from which Tits on the Table comes from. Marilyn Harris penned the foundation of The Reluctant Master to the joy of readers everywhere. Finally, instead of pairing up with another pro, Dreams of Milk and Cookies came from the mind of Angelique, a member of the old Darker Pleasures webzine who actually played out some of her fantasies before putting them down on paper. Which leaves She Flies through the Air, another Master/slave tale that expands the BDSM to include another fun female body part to play with.

I’m pretty tickled with the results, but I’ll just let you take a look and see for yourself. For appetizers, here are the story summaries to give you an idea of what’s in store:

Ten Perfect Breasts – He’s a nobleman with a sadistic taste for breast he satisfies weekly by using five women chosen from his holdings each time. With ten perfect breasts at his disposal, his weekly orgies are filled with sex and erotic torment using his five women as entertainment. But, for some reason, this time, his five guest’s enjoyment is more vocal than usual, their desire to submit to his cruelty more extreme. Little does he know, there is more to their submissiveness than meets the eye, and more to their orgasms than it seems.

She Flies Through the Air – In three years, Kitten has grown into her Master’s eager sexual masochist, wanting nothing more than to fulfill his wildest dreams. To do that, she stays active on the web’s most kinky sites, enthusiastically searching for new ideas to make him happy. So, when she sees a bold idea posted on one of those sites suggesting that he suspend her by all of her most private parts, she gladly passes the idea on. Her delight only grows when it comes time to try the risky BDSM scene, though she has to wonder if those private parts will still work as well when he’s done.

Dreams of Milk and Cookies – Since Hanna’s been pregnant, her dreams have started involving some really wicked things. She’s dreamt of being used by her husband like he’s never used her before – including being his plaything as he abuses her milky breasts and uses her to satisfy other evil passions he’s never really shown. Unwilling to tell him about her dark fantasies, the closest Hanna’s gets is some hurried self-torment in the shower each day – until the day she lets the cat out of the bag. That’s when she learns what cruel and wonderful desires Patrick has been hiding, and how they might just make her dreams pale in comparison.

The Making of a Handmaiden – In the near future, a coup results in a society based on The Handmaid’s Tale which uses a sadomasochistic sexual ritual to entice its citizens into eagerly taking part in their re-population plans. One handmaiden never imagined her breasts and body being whipped, tormented, and used that way. But more disturbing to her is the realization that her training has made her crave the new life and long for even more erotic pain and torment than just the Ritual’s wicked leather lash.

Better in Black and Blue – They’re a young married couple looking for kinky sexual adventure. She wants it very rough, and he wants to watch her get it that way. After finding the right guy for the job online, they sign their three-way contract over a light flogging and hard sex that leaves her well-used and leaves all of them wanting more. But none of them can foresee just how hard she really likes it, or how much better they think her beautiful breasts and bottom look in different shades of black and blue.

Tits on the Table – Candace has a hidden desire for a certain kind of erotic breast torment, one that she’s found hard to ignore and one that isn’t easy to find partners willing to do. She’s fed her fantasies with masturbation, self-torment and the Marquis deSade’s stories of brutal sex – but she’s way too shy to come out. It isn’t until she finds secret enjoyment in the unlikeliest of places that she decides to act – though she’s never imagined just where that action would lead.

Tan-lined Tits and a TKO – Ashley is a tit-boxing powerhouse. The only thing she craves more than beating another woman’s breasts into submission is to satisfy her master’s lusts for watcher her own bouncing breasts being beaten. When her victories in one particular tournament offer a chance to fulfill both her cravings, she’s faced with a dilemma. She can win and do just that, or she can lose and help the other girl escape an abusive master. At first she can’t decide, then, as the naked girls trade tit-bruising blows, Ashley hatches a plan that may satisfy each of their most erotic dreams.

The Reluctant Master – It’s Lisa’s job to train masters, using her body and skills to make them perfect for some other woman. It’s a job that’s made her rich. It has also made her frustrated. After showing other men how to satisfy their dominant desires, she wants only to be submissive to a Master of her own. Out of desperation, Lisa lets a new trainee see a side of her she's kept hidden. But his reaction not only leaves her sexually battered and wonderfully well-used, it turns her whole world upside down and makes her re-think her entire plan.

Daring the Serpent to Strike – They're students moonlighting at the zoo a few nights a week. When boredom sets in, they start passing the time with kinky sex and BDSM. It’s not long before kinky becomes more extreme. When their tit torture and CBT start to become routine, their experiments become more daring and start falling well outside the box. With these new thrills comes risk beyond their control, and they realize it’s not a matter of if something will go too far, but when. The only question is: who will be the first to fall prey to the peril, and will an orgasm still be the result.

Good Enough to Eat – For two residents of the Novalis, life is hard. When they’re not on a mission inside the Matrix-like alternate reality, their only distraction is sex – which is always violent and sadistic. After a brutal coupling, he hungrily eyes her breasts, mottled red and bruising from his groping fingers and rabid, suckling bites. They look good enough to eat, he quips. Her unexpected reply surprises them both and sends them back into the alternate reality and down a path of extreme sex and torment that changes their meaning of ‘distraction’ forever.

Though this anthology has a couple fewer stories than the earlier three, these are longer and, honestly, among some of my favorites to have written. Hopefully you’ll enjoy reading them just as much.

Matt Nicholson, 2017

TEN PERFECT BREASTS

Ten perfect, naked breasts quivered less than ten feet away from him. They were all as luscious as any he had enjoyed, and he had enjoyed hundreds of them in his time. The five beautiful women they belonged to hung by their arms from rafters hidden high amidst lavish, golden and maroon hangings. The women swayed gently in a neat semi-circle, their wrists wrapped in dark, Arabian leather. Around those wrists were wound sturdy chains made of gold-dipped bronze. The chains sparkled from the light of a thousand candles set into crystal chandeliers. The leather bindings and golden chains were all any of them wore.

Their impeccably manicured toenails, painted with gold-flecked red, barely brushed the priceless Peruvian rugs covering the marble tile floor beneath them. Their fingernails were filed, polished and painted to match their toes.

Each waist tapered into pleasing hips that rounded over flawless, heart-shaped asses. Those bottoms curved into long, shapely thighs. Their spotless skins varied in tone from nearly translucent alabaster to chocolate brown, all glistening with the most expensive Far Eastern cinnamon oils. Their hair ran from pale blonde to raven, all falling long and straight to the upper curves of those same tantalizing bottoms. Each pair of ruby lips was split by gags made from fine, golden silk woven into cloth by old women from a land across the sea.

For all their beauty, the women could have been daughters of royalty – just like all the ones before them, as well as all wet nurses before them. His taste for suckling and biting seemed to have begun in the womb. It was a taste his parents and handlers always appeased.

It was specifically for her idea breasts that each stunning woman had been chosen. Full, firm and arousing, each pair was tipped with deeply creviced or well-pebbled areola that thickened into hard nipples resembling ripe winterberries. The meaty treats ranged in size from that of an oversized golden coin to over twice that width. Their colors ran from ruby-red to purple and dusky brown.

On either side of each woman stood a Moorish servant – ten in all – dressed in maroon and gold robes matching the hangings. Each held a black, braided leather whip made from the skins of champion stallions. Behind them all waited the only naked male. At barely eighteen years, he was as notoriously handsome as the women were lovely. Well-tanned, his clean-shaven, well-muscled body also glistened with oil as he stood nervously off to one side. His only adornment was a solid gold cock ring meant to ensure his usefulness even should he spend his seed.

Like the women, he had been chosen from those that lived among the throng outside the castle walls. Rumor had it that he was skilled in passion, so the Baron’s attendants chose to put that skill to the test. His job was to be the distraction, his duties to become obvious soon enough. Success would guarantee him a place in the court. Failure would result in castration at the hands of the women he failed. Given what the Baron had in store, his chance of success was not good. Still, the gleam in the man’s eyes suggested he was eager for the challenge.

Standing in the shadows of a corner, his mage watched. It was his aphrodisiac potion that turned what had been exercises in pure sexual sadism into erotic gatherings highlighted by the use and torment of women who had no choice but delight in what was done to them.

The more pain they endured, the more the potion drove them into desire, the more they wanted to be abused. Such was the potion’s strength that, at last count, five women had actually died from having had so many orgasms their hearts had failed. In each case, their luscious bodies had been used nearly beyond repair. Despite the fact that his peasants tended to rebel a bit at such deaths, the Baron looked forward to watching the sixth – whenever it might happen.

At the Baron’s nod, the ten Moors raised their whips in unison.

He stood so each of the women swayed equidistant from him. A servant handed him a crystal goblet filled with fine, red wine. He took a sip and glanced around the court. Only the newest of the dozens of courtiers took full notice. Most of them were familiar with his routine and had begun indulging vices of their own. Many had shed some or all of their clothing. Some were already in the throes of sadomasochistic passion. Their lack of attention should have irritated him, but the blatant sex and excitement added an ambiance that made the experience all the more entertaining. Besides, he knew he would have their attention soon enough.

Again at his nod, the Moors brought their whips around their turbaned heads in wide, perfectly choreographed, graceful arcs. Five struck high; five struck low. Stallion-leather lashed across each bobbling chest and quivering rear. The women cried out in unison into their gags. Their sounds drowned the cracking sound of the whips and gave his guests music to play by.

He watched their arousing movements jump from subtle trembling to pain-driven bounces and quakes. Their tempting flesh moved both from the violence of the leather strands burying into it and from its owner's thrashing. He thought he could never tire of such views.

The Moors paused, waiting, as the women writhed through the pain. Tiny droplets of blood the color of the Baron’s wine began to well across the thin tears. He watched the droplets come together into larger beads. It took some time for the women to calm enough for another blow, recovering not only from the lash itself, but from the cinnamon spiced oil that seeped into their broken skin. It was not until the first full drops of blood trickled down the undercurves of each breast and bottom that the Baron nodded again. Again in perfect unison, the whips circled and cracked.

And again, the women jerked; again, they cried out; again, their mouthwatering flesh recoiled from the blows. Rivulets of red began dripping from just below each nipple, welling from cuts lashed within a hair’s breadth of the same place on each meaty areola. His whipmasters were also perfect, and with their perfection came flawless aim.

With pain layered upon pain, the women became less composed. Even as the sting of each blow faded, the sting of spice burning their cuts remained. Still, he waited until they had stilled somewhat before nodding again. He was not surprised to hear most of them moaning or to see them thrust their chests out to meet the blows. His mage’s potion worked well.

After eleven lashes per woman, the bloody trickles had turned to artistic lines of red that flowed down each rounded curved, across each tight stomach. Similar crimson decorations flowed from vivid welts laced across fiery red ass cheeks and dripped down the soft backside of each shapely thigh.

Finally, when tears ran from their cheeks and mingled with their blood, he nodded a last time. The whips sailed. Leather cracked on flesh. This time, however, one of the women’s cries coupled with something else. He looked at her, a lovely young thing, barely twenty, with hair as red as a morning sunrise. Beneath the anguish-driven sobs and shaking, she was in the throes of a violent orgasm.

Wanting to watch, he held up his hand. Eight of the Moors coiled their whips in unison. The two attending her settled into a light lashing meant to draw out her climax by teasing her nipples and sex. After almost two minutes, she gasped desperately for air and seemed to become increasingly anxious. The Baron considered pushing her further, but he had plenty of time. At his nod, her Moors coiled their whips. Eventually her frantic breathing became moans that finally settled into the same kind of sounds the other made.

Ready to become more active in the festivities, the Baron held his hands out to his sides. As two of his attendants pulled his special gloves onto his fingers, he looked from one crying woman to the next. Seeing that his attention was solely on them, each worked hard to quiet her sobs and gain his attention. After several more moments of contemplation, he moved up to the red-head. She had sealed her fate with the orgasm. He smiled at her. She was the first to stop sniveling, but the razor sharp harrier talons on his fingertips seemed to keep her on edge.

The gloves were a pleasing touch. So comfortable as to be almost unnoticeable on his hands, they made the raptor claws into nearly-natural extensions of his fingers. They had been specially made by an artist in a country most never knew existed. While flexing them for his audience, he waited just long enough for the younger man to run up behind her. The naked man bent gracefully backward and inched his face toward her until his mouth found her cunt. One set of lips met another, and then his tongue began its dance. Upon hearing her first moan, the Baron reached up with a suede-covered hand and seized her larger breast’s full undercurve.

The raptor claws first scratched and then dented her tender skin. Sharper than most needles, the talons quickly pierced her in five places. The pain may have been subtle at first, but it grew quickly when his grip tightened.

As her eyes grew wider, he closed his hand, driving the talons deeper into her flesh. The face between her legs pressed harder, lips sucking, tongue probing. While some part of her moans and restrained thrashing came from the hand at her chest, the Baron was certain much of the noise was driven by the boy’s skill.

Determined that the younger man would have to work for her climax, the Baron squeezed harder, burying the curved claws deeper. He pulled her toward him by the crushed mound alone until her feet dangled inches from the floor and blood trickled from around the claws. The boy followed her cunt with his mouth, redoubling his efforts while pulling her into his face with nimble fingers squeezing her heart-shaped rear – unknowingly causing a tug of war with her breast as the rope.

Smiling at the increasing tenor of her moan, the Baron bent slightly and drew his tongue up the violated breast's underside, lapping from glove to nipple, savoring the cinnamon-laced salty-metallic taste. After a couple more languorous laps, he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. At first, he enjoyed the feeling of the hard tip beneath his tongue, the surrounding areola puckered between his lips. He sucked softly, deliberately, then – as his passion rose – he became more energetic. Despite the talons’ defilement, her moans of pain became groans of pleasure. Her struggling settled into as soft, sensual roll.

The combination of the squirming woman’s nakedness, the feel of her breast crushed between his fingers, the sight of the talons at work, and her obvious arousal, made the Baron’s manhood stir with a will of its own. He controlled his growing desire by taking a long breath and drawing the claws down her breasts. When the hooks snagged her areolas’ outer edges, he pinched the tips into abused balls of wrinkled flesh. Massaging with wicked intent, he let the younger man work.

Sweat glistened on or skin and started dripping down her breasts, trickling spiced oil over her tormented nipples and her areolas’ broken crevices. As her breathing became heavy and her sounds exposed the depth of her growing need, he pressed the talon’s tips harder. By then he realized she relished the pain almost as much as the pleasure.

When it became apparent she was on an orgasm’s edge, he raked his clawed fingertips across the creviced skin until they found purchase in her nipples’ wrinkled bases. Driven to the precipice between pain and pleasure by the tonic, she moaned loudly. In response, he curled his fingers and drove the hooks into her. As she gasped, he twisted his hand a half-turn and pulled. Her cry was less driven by pain and more the frustration of a climax momentarily denied. She reacted by urgently pressing her cunt into the mouth gaping upon it and deliberately pulling her breast backward, not to escape, but to add to her torment.

Ready to oblige her by even more gratifying means, the Baron moved his hands from her breasts and filled them with her ass. It wasn’t until the talons came free from her mistreated nipples that blood really began to well from them. In moments, it painted her breast with red tracks. It looked far more painful than he thought it really was. In fact, the pleasure had already returned to her in such force that she acted as if she barely hurt at all.

While grasping her rear, he pulled her higher. When her right breast was but a breath away from his lips, he chose a spot on its inside curve. After giving her just enough time to renew her wanting rolling on the young man’s face, the Baron filled his mouth with her flesh and bit. When he tasted blood, he squeezed her ass until it flowed between his fingers, chose a nearby spot, and bit her again.

While the young man ate at her cunt and worked feverishly to bring her back to a climax, the Baron covered her succulent breast with purpling marks. He took his time, enjoying the feeling of her flesh and fat against his face and between his lips while also relishing the sensation of her shapely bottom crushed in his hands. Once he had decorated both perfect mounds with dozens of bite marks, he stopped. Holding her by the ass, he watched the marks on her quaking breasts darken and bleed.

Once her desperate whimpers again became moans and she settled back into her sensual, pleasure-driven sway, he pulled his right hand from her ass and raked the talons cruelly across her left breast. Even while paper thin lines of red welled from the scratches, her nipple again drew hard, the abused flesh around it tight. Its arousal came despite her pain – or perhaps because of it. He trailed the tip of his tongue over the rigid ruby nub, feeling the creviced flesh surrounding it get still harder. Once he thought it could become no tighter, he drew the whole of the rubbery tip between his lips and sucked again.

When he felt her body relax and her sounds swell back into a pre-orgasmic melody, he trapped her areola in his teeth midway between her nipple and the areola's blood-streaked outer edge. Her moans became more frantic as he pressed his teeth harder and began dragging the claws around her breasts. Thinking that the pain was taking its toll, he decided to guarantee the boy’s castration with a wicked rake and an even more brutal bite.

But her cry came not from the agony of torture, but from the sudden bursting of pleasure between her legs. Instead of battling a war between the pain and the delight, she seemed to want it all. She writhed in mid-air, taken by her most violent climax so far – a large part of which actually came from her perfect curves’ defilement.

Instead of being angry, the Baron laughed. Undeterred, he shook her breast from side to side by his teeth as if he were an animal, enjoying the feel of the fat mound’s weight pulling against him and the rubbery, creviced flesh brushing his lips. He shook her until his teeth cut deeper into the stubborn wrinkles and he tasted blood again. Even then, her moans spoke of something beyond pain. Unable to hold back his desire any longer, he shifted her nipple deeper into his mouth and centered the rigid nub between his crushing teeth. It wasn’t until he graced the raspberry nub and the cone of wrinkles at its base with a flesh-rending bite that she screamed.

By then, even the guests that had been lost in their own ardent pleasure watched. Most were awestruck; many were envious. With his eyes closed, he savored the moment – not for the tangy taste of blood and cinnamon – but for the sensation of her impeccable flesh being abused in his hands and mouth, and the knowledge that she was his to abuse. When his mouthful was thoroughly broken, he gave it one last chew before letting the battered flesh slip from his lips. By then, the red-head had fallen silent, granted unconsciousness by her gods through still another rampant climax.

Once he finished savoring that ripe tip, he decorated her other breast with the talons while a whipmaster woke her. It didn’t take long after her eyes fluttered open for the boy to jump eagerly back to his duty – now more from mercy than desperation. He had retained his testicles, after all, at least for the moment. Allowing her the diversion, the Baron squeezed the less defiled of her breasts in a kneading, punishing, one-handed grip. He spent another few moments enjoying the feel of the skin and fat mashing in his hand before he took turned his attention to that hardened red-brown tip. While the young man kept her less mindful of the pain, the Baron made her breast less-perfect.

Eventually, after the mage’s potion had allowed her even more climactic respite, the Baron finished. Licking his lips, he left the young woman hanging ravished and limp. Thanks to his appetite and the gloves’ tender ministries, her breasts and belly, bottom and thighs, were awash in red. It looked worse than it actually was. Though somewhat marred, nothing was ruined. Once the cuts and bruises healed, her breasts would bear a few obvious scars. They would still be better than most. He glanced