Her Tits, His Targets

By Matt Nicholson

When a pair of mountain locals stumbles upon Sandi teaching Matt the fine art of how to whip her naked breasts, a playful lesson in sadomasochism and spirited sex quickly turns into something much more dangerous. After Matt is dealt with, Sandi is bound and gagged, naked, helpless, and far from help. That’s when the real fun begins and the light lashing she had planned for herself becomes much more imaginative, wicked and erotic.

But it’s not just Sandi's love of bondage and erotic torment that gets put to the test. It’s also her relationship with Matt—a relationship that may become something neither of them ever imagined.

(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: Jun 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463507513

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

Her Tits, His Targets

By Matt Nicholson

Her Tits, His Targets*

Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 Matt Nicholson. All rights reserved.

*Edited and significantly expanded from the short story Bulls-eyes

Cover image by mykhaylo_palinchak/123RF Stock Photos

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. For information, contact Darker Pleasures, webmaster at darkerpleasures.com.

Matt stopped at the edge of the rushing creek and knelt on a large granite boulder nestled into the riverbank. He watched the clear, cold, water dance over rocks and pebbles rounded by centuries of alpine winds and melting snow. Frightened by the movement above, cutthroat trout darted from pooling eddies below the surface to safety in backwashes beneath the moss-covered banks. Matt turned slowly while gazing at the huge pines only yards away. Behind them grew a grove of lofty aspens, their leaves just beginning to turn in the early September afternoon.

Chipmunks scampered across layers of cinnamon-colored needles and over fallen branches. They stopped for a second to chitter at him for interrupting their fun. Hummingbirds zipped past on the way to wherever it was that hummingbirds zipped. In the distance, Wheeler Peak and Gold Hill scraped the sky amidst lesser mountains, their tops so high the long summer sun couldn’t melt the snow covering their granite slopes.

The sounds of the mountains filled his ears. Birds sang and the gentle mountain breeze whispered through the trees. Having spent a quarter of his life vacationing, guiding, hunting and fishing in these mountains, he had long ago understood why they said brooks babbled. As silly as some people might think it, he paused in one of his occasional attempts to decipher this small stream’s elusive message, as he often did. The smells of the mountains were strong at this height, with pines and wildflowers competing with the rich organic smells of the ground itself for dominance in a sea of aromas.

He had always felt as if he belonged here, especially when it wasn’t here that he lived. Back then, he never wanted to go home, if you could even call the sprawling suburban eyesore filled with metal and glass, asphalt and concrete, smog and cars, crime, dirt, and humanity where he had lived home.

He pulled a white, lavender, and blue, I Red River, NM t-shirt up over his head and tied it around his waist along with the red flannel shirt and the light blue nylon windbreaker he had shed hours earlier. Sweat dripped from his salt-and-pepper temples. It glistened down the center of his chest, over his acceptably-flat stomach, and then coated the curly tangle of black curls running out of sight below the waistband of his faded Wrangler shorts.