Eight Hundred Nerve Endings
Fiona opened her eyes and drank in her surroundings.
Hot sunlight radiated through the windows of Cuppa Joe’s, where it mingled with the noisy effusion of the espresso machines, and gave the café a confined, sultry feel. There was a defined bustle of other patrons, and the air seemed crowded with conversation. She and Mark were fortunate to even find a table today. As the chattering continued, Fiona raised the cup before her and took a sip of her steaming soya mocha, enjoying the slight burning sting on her tongue.
Mark looked across the table at her and grinned. He began to speak, and as Fiona heard his words, she could feel her stomach drop like a stone.
“Do you remember when I told you that your nipples have over eight hundred nerve endings in them?” Mark asked.
“Nooo … not here!” She weakly protested.
“Well, if you don’t want me to keep going, you just have to tell me to stop.”
Fiona parted her lips, but words would not form. She remained quiet. An invisible bubble of calm seemed to grow around their table, as though they were now secluded from the commotion of the café. With her silent acquiescence, Mark continued.
“Okay. As I was saying, there are over eight hundred nerve endings in each of your nipples. They’re one of the most erogenous parts of the female body. The sensation from the nipples travels to the same part of the brain as sensations from between your legs. And of course, your breasts are particularly sensitive, aren’t they?”
Fiona stared into the churning darkness of her coffee cup. Since her teenage years, her large bosom had unfortunately been her defining feature, drawing eyes and judgements. They were only more obvious and prominent because of her waspish waist. She was so often the object of unwanted attention, she felt conspicuous and abashed even seemingly unnoticed in this busy café. Men staring at her chest was just something she had to live with on a daily, even hourly basis.
However, her breasts were also her downfall. Mark was intimately familiar with her one major weakness. She would melt into a puddle of desire when Mark expertly caressed them. She could even fade out of consciousness and into a kind of joyful daze when he did so. He could toy with her patiently for hours, drawing out brain breaking orgasms just by toying with her nipples alone. She would just die of lust, and do anything he desired in return.
And when Mark had patiently explained to her that all those tiny nerve endings were really in charge of her, it made such perfect made sense. He had proved time and time again, just how much power they wielded over her. And in moments like this, he could play with her without even a single physical touch. She blushed at hot memories as she listened to his warm, soothing voice, knowing with dread she was about to happen.
“I just want you to relax for a moment now, and find how easily it is to feel extremely aware of your own body. Don’t think about all those sensitive nerve endings for a moment. Just breathe in, fill your lungs with air. Just breathe steadily, and as you do, feel the muscles in your body relax, almost as though you can’t help it.”
Fiona couldn’t help it. Mark had done this to her so many times before, she just couldn’t stop her body automatically calming as soon as he suggested it, his voice an injection of tranquilliser under her skin. Fixed on her coffee, she felt her eyes beginning to swim. Milk and water and coffee swirling, mingling, drifting, merging.
“Every breath you take draws more relaxation into your body now. Feel yourself becoming so limp, so loose. And every time you breath out, feel yourself becoming more aware of your body. And as you do, you can’t stop yourself becoming more and more aware of your sensitive breasts and how they feel. Concentrate on how you feel.”
Fiona felt it. Each time Mark did this, the pleasure seemed to creep into her body a little easier. A soft whimper slipped under her breath. With an abashed shudder, she felt her nipples already straining against the fabric of her pullover. She fervently hoped it wasn’t too obvious to anyone who might glance her way, and was glad her eyes weren’t open so she couldn’t find out. There was nothing to do but allow Mark’s words to continue to drift into her ears.
“Deep breaths in and feel that relaxation. Deep breaths out and think of your breasts. Think of your sensitive nipples now. Breath in and feel yourself going down and down. When you are ready, when you feel so relaxed you can’t do anything else, you can let your eyes close, as though they were working all on their own. You don’t have to worry about them. You don’t have to worry about the world around you. You can simply keep concentrating on your breathing, and that wonderful feeling of sensitivity in your breasts.”
Fiona’s eyes sealed themselves shut even before he had finished. Her chin fell ever so slightly. Mark was right again. Despite the limpness that was brewing in her body, forcing her arms to feel loose and noodly, she could still feel the thumping of her heart. The skin of her chest seemed to swell, her nipples grow tighter still. Was she panting? She could feel herself panting.
“Concentrating on your breathing still, feeling that wonderful sensitivity in your breasts. Notice how they feel with each deep breath in, and as you breath out, let yourself feel more of that blissful pleasure. Every deep breath in, lovely limp relaxation. Every breath out, that feeling of pressure and arousal filling you up. Your mind is drifting and the world is fading and all you can think about is that wonderful feeling.”
“You can try to stop that pleasure from concentrating itself on the very tips of your nipples. But you know all those eight hundred nerve endings I told you about just won’t let you hold that urge at bay. There are just too many of them. Too many to do anything but let them do all your thinking for you.”
Mark was right. He was always right. It just felt too good now. She wanted to squirm and rock in her chair, to try to relieve some of that torrid pressure, but her body was adamant. She was too relaxed, too stilled in trance now, to do anything but let her breasts control her.
“You can feel that pleasure, that pressure, concentrating with every breath you take. But they feel like magnets, drawing all that pleasure to them, concentrating it all in focus. When you feel that you just can’t take any more pressure, you will realise what you have to do. You have to release some of that pressure. Your breasts are too constricted.”
“Imagine how much better you will feel when you remove your sweater. When you pull it off and relieve some of that terrible pressure on your poor sensitive nipples and all those teased, fraught little nerve endings, it will feel so wonderful. You just have to free yourself from that awful, tight, binding garment. You know you will feel so, so much better when you do.”
Fiona couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Not here, not in this busy place, surrounded by so many people. But Mark was correct. The pressure was awful. She must do something. For long minutes they both sat in silence, Fiona’s eyes screwed tightly shut now, as she fought against her arousal, trapped between her desires and her diminishing sense of propriety. With a tremendous effort, she eventually lifted her arms, and pulled off her top. Holding it in her lap, she sat now in only her bra, trembling, her whole chest and face blushing with embarrassment.
“That feels so much better, doesn’t it? Now you can let yourself really feel all that pleasure in your chest. You’re in such a lovely, deep, relaxed place, that you can allow what’s left of your mind to drain down into your chest. You have nothing else to think about. You can let all your thoughts flow down along with your inhibitions. All those thoughts and worries and you don’t have to think at all about where you are. The world is floating away as you let that pleasure build up in your sensitive little nipples.”
If I pretend I have no control over them, Fiona struggled to say to herself, then it’s okay. If I have no control over my nipples what happens next will be okay. Her heart pounded even faster. She already knew what Mark was about to tell her next.
“Now I want you to think about that special nerve that runs straight from your nipples to your clitoris. Can you feel it?” Mark asked.
“Uh-huh … uh-huh …” Fiona murmured, her words dripping senselessly. She could picture it behind her eyes, that magical thread that spread between her most sensitive parts. She could feel a hum of electricity pulse down her belly to below her navel.
“Can you remember how you feel when you touch your nipples? Can you feel how that pleasure flows straight down to your clitoris?” Mark asked again, insistently, and received a nod in reply.
“Remember how you feel when you touch your nipples. Remember your fingers and the circling and the teasing. And let those thoughts fill your mind.”
Fiona no longer cared where she was. The noise of the traffic outside, the people she once remembered sitting at tables all around her, the chatter of their conversations, had faded into a swirling brown fog. All she could think of was her nipples, and what they were forcing her to do. Her hands rose up to her chest. But she didn’t immediately pinch or pull. She knew the wonderful, feather-like way that Mark always touched her. She wanted to feel that delicate touch now. With her forefingers she drew large circles around her areolae.
“That’s good. Just swirl your fingers around your nipples. Tiny little spirals that make you feel so good and let your mind go deeper and deeper. That’s right. Focus now on the pleasure. Go slowly. Savour that sensation. Feel those waves of pleasure flow from the tips of your fingers, through your breasts, all the way down into your clitoris.”
She was entirely inside herself now. The world no longer existed, only his voice and the hot pleasure she was feeling through her whole body. It felt as though there was electricity sparking from her fingers to her nipples. Waves of joy were building up steadily, inexorably. She was almost boiling with need.
“But this pleasure just isn’t enough, is it? You feel so good, but you can feel in your mind just how much pleasurable it would be if only there wasn’t any tight, rough fabric between your nipples and your fingers. You know you will feel so, so much better when you take off your bra. You know just how much closer you will be to orgasm when you do. That urge is just too strong now. You’re going to burst unless you do something soon.”
Fiona didn’t need any more of a push. Her fingers unsnapped the front clasp of her bra and it burst open. Immediately her fingers returned to her nipples, but now she pulled upon them desperately, knowing her orgasm was only moments away. She gripped them between thumb and forefinger and pulled them as hard as she knew she needed. She shuddered and shook, biting her lip, one tiny part of her mind—a part he had left for her?—still aware of she was, knowing just how hotly humiliated she felt to be pleasuring herself like this, sitting in public, surrounded by strangers.
Now, as if he was now leaning over her, his mouth right by her ear, Fiona could hear Mark’s voice penetrate deep into her mind, ripping her open, forcing her to confront that awful reality.
“Doesn’t it feel so good to be topless and vulnerable like this? Don’t you love the knowledge that if you open your eyes you’ll see all these people staring at you, staring at you pulling on your nipples? Listening to you moaning out loud like a desperate slut? See you coming just from tugging on your big juicy titties?”
His words tipped her over the precipice. The pleasure, fear, the shame, the embarrassment, it was all too much for her. She felt hot and horny and such a slut and she was coming right now and she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to. She let go entirely, her body convulsing, her hips bucking, as she could feel it, deep between her legs, her clitoris bursting with thrilling joy, her panties soaking with her arousal, and she no longer cared, she wanted everyone to see, she wanted everyone to know what a horny little slut she really was. A loud wail of gratification escaped her lips.
The waves of pleasure lasted for minutes before she stopped shivering, yet her hands refused to leave her breasts. At last her breathing slowed. Her faculties returning, Fiona immediately burned with shame and horror. In a moment she would have to lift her eyelids and confront the shocked stares of the strangers who had just watched her debase herself.
Fiona opened her eyes and drank in her surroundings.
She was sitting at her dining table, her top between her legs and her bra hanging open. Mark sat across from her, his smiling face illuminated by the hot summer sun.
The world of the café, all those people. He had placed it all in her mind. A trance within a trance. Joyful relief flushed through her body as she leapt up and embraced her lover. She fell gratefully into his arms, kissing him, tasting coffee on his tongue.