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Back in the 1960s and 70s a French artist by the name of Joseph Farrel created a sizeable
number of BDSM drawings. He felt that the drawings were works in themselves and that
people should make up their own stories to go with them. Later the drawings were published
with short vignettes by Robert Merodack and others. Joseph Farrel is sadly now dead and
much of his work is out of print.
For my own amusement I have written my own short stories to accompany some of the
drawings. Here is one of them. Let me know what you think.
A CONTEST
It was a strange kind of club, originally created by the chance meeting of two married men who
shared the same tastes. Little by little, other people had joined them. Not all the members
were men but most were. Not all the men were married, but all shared an attraction to big
beautiful breasts.
All were rich enough to indulge their fantasies and all had to bring to the club at least one
female whom they had persuaded or coerced to go along with the programme. In some cases
it was a wife who had been forced to join, in other cases a mistress or an employee. The
members did not care what coercion had been used to force compliance as long as obedience
to the programme was evident on club nights. Only a couple of the women took part completely
voluntarily: you would have to have profound masochistic tendencies and an urge to be publicly
humiliated.
The club nights had initially begun by exchanging experiences, drawings and photos, then
advice and tricks. Some of these tricks were effective and soon wives and girlfriends had
begun blooming through massages, developing creams, injections and implants.
The women had mostly been embarrassed and distressed by the process, but the photos of
their new shapes had been distributed to the other members and the sharing gave them some
crumbs of comfort. At least they knew they weren’t suffering alone.
There was occasional swapping of partners, but for most members the real fun was when the
monthly club reunions started a programme of shows. The early shows were merely the
women obliged to display themselves in the manner of a beauty pageant:
•
Everyday clothes
•
Evening gowns
•
Swimsuits. Of course as the women’s bosoms gradually augmented in volume
these became more and more difficult to wear with any decency at all.
Soon the contests became blatantly humiliating and involved the open display of the breasts
they had all worked so hard on developing. The, by now, excessively endowed ladies were
selected randomly, four each month, for contests:
•
To find the biggest breasts using a set of scales invented by one of the
members to weigh individual breasts
•
The longest nipples after a vigorous massage or a thorough suckling
•
The widest or smallest areola
•
The breasts with the most or least sag.
The important thing was the competition itself. In order to make the game last there were
usually eliminations. The finale was always a prize draw, whose two lucky ticket holders would
each be given an udder of the winning contestant. These they would be allowed to twist, grab
and bite; to suck and pull on the nipples and to strangle the breasts in order to make the
swollen areolas protrude.
Occasionally the evening would finish with the winner of the contest being given over to the
membership for a thorough public fucking but that was not really the point. The club was for
breasts in their biggest and most extreme forms.
Initially one of the members would be chosen by lot to act as MC for the evening. But soon the
job devolved on to William Trefoil who had a wicked, biting wit which unfailingly increased the
humiliation of the contestants immeasurably. Tonight he was on fine form:
The evening’s show involved (from the left):
•
Lady Cordelia Portland, 34, blonde and beautiful wife of Lord Portland who was
seated in the front row with his very young mistress. The daughter of an earl,
brought up in the aristocracy and now here with her breasts hanging out of her
evening gown. And she knew that inevitably later on her husband would let that
slutty teenager he was fucking play with and abuse her now terribly distorted
chest.
•
Caroline Brown, 38, the executive secretary to Sir Harvey Smythe, the
industrialist, who was attending with his wife. Caroline kept her eyes shut or
away from her boss. She had initially been drawn into this out of her love for
him only to discover that all along he had been sharing pictures of her with his
wife, who enjoyed the joke. And of course it meant that her husband had a
convenient outlet for his breast fantasies.
•
Sammie Jordeen, 22, the submissive young lover of the only lesbian member of
the club. This young lady was utterly conflicted: in love with her girlfriend, made
horny by the sexual submission but also deeply hurt by the public humiliation.
•
Jane Dunston, 21, the stepdaughter of George Freeling, one of the club
founders. This poor girl had first joined the proceedings to spite her mother, but
was now held in thrall by a web of blackmail, which incidentally had also now
ensnared her mother, who for this evening’s show was grateful to be in the
audience rather than up on the stage even though her breasts were every bit as
large as her daughters’.
It was an excellent show, one of the best, as all these lost and dismayed women were obliged
one after the other to exhibit their excessive breasts! On William’s orders each contestant had
been required to lift her breasts out of her dress and put them on display for the crowd. The
first two ladies were older and more refined, at least originally, and so found the ordeal even
more upsetting and debasing than the younger girls. Young Sammie’s tits had been in a
grotesque pink spandex tube top that had vanished under the voluminous flesh as its contents
were liberated.
“Just Mrs Brown to get her breasts out for us now!” said the compère. William always referred
to the women formally; he knew it made the humiliation of their eventual submission all the
more intense.
“Come along madam; let’s show the audience your big udders, nothing to be too shy about! It
is not as if we haven’t all seen them before. Stop procrastinating and get them out!”
Sobbing the poor secretary tugged her dress down with one hand while with the other she
struggled to scoop out first one gigantic breast and then the other. The elasticised fabric of the
dress pushed the flesh close together and made the vast tits look even more horrendously
obscene than usual.
“Sir Harvey tells us that for the last month he has kindly allowed you to display your naked
mounds on your desk at work all day long. And I believe there is also a large pot of lotion. All
his office employees and visitors from other companies can enjoy the view and even give them
a thorough rub down if they so desire. So that must mean that by now you enjoy showing them
off.”
Poor Caroline even wished for a moment that she was in the office, appalling ordeal though that
that was. She hated the way the sign on her desk now invited everyone to fondle or oil her
exposed breasts. The way complete strangers could enter Sir Harvey’s outer office and within
a minute or two be handling her and rubbing her down with lotion as they waited to see him.
Why was it that they all ended up tugging her tits back and forth by the nipples? The pain was
intense but at least it distracted her from the feelings in her crotch…
“I’m told that Sir Harvey has also allowed you the privilege of having the Sybian machine you
demonstrated for us last month fixed permanently to your office chair. As I recall that time it
gave you more pleasure than you could reasonably handle. You are such a lucky girl: tits out
all day, free massages to keep all that flesh supple and an orgasm any time of day. I hope you
regularly show your boss how grateful you are for his thoughtfulness.”
Having completely humiliated poor Caroline and reduced her to sobbing tears it was time for
the next part of the show. All the women had to rub down their generous expanses of flesh with
baby oil to make the breasts shimmer in the lights. They were encouraged to help each other
to reach every spot of the glistening flesh. And it was great when they all had to get right down
amongst the judges to help them appreciate how elastic their flesh was, and the taste of their
erect nipples!
Lady Portland burst out sobbing from the shame and humiliation when she heard the
compère say, “I am sure you will all agree how lovely it is to see Lady Cordelia’s nipples out
again. They are quite the longest and stiffest in the club. Lord Portland informs me that her
ladyship is still sucking each nipple for half an hour every day. However as you can see, Lady
Portland clearly still has the smallest tits of the lot tonight. But his lordship assured me before
the show that this won’t be the case for long. He has just booked her next set of implants!
Lucky Lady!” Poor Lady Cordelia visibly swayed on hearing this shocking news.
“His lordship tells me that he is determined that her ladyship will have the biggest tits
and the longest nipples in Britain; even if she has to push them in here in a wheelbarrow. I am
told that next month her ladyship will take delivery of a modified milking machine that can be
hooked up to her nipples for a couple of hours every day. Lord Portland has promised that Lady
Cordelia’s first session with it will be here at the club. I am sure we are all going to enjoy seeing
how long her teats are in a couple of months! Hands up all those in favour of having a
sweepstake on the length in centimetres. I reckon on 8cm after a month.” At this the poor
noblewoman fainted clean away.
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