Tracy`s Weekend

Shivering in anticipation, Becky closed and locked the front door behind her and dropped her car keys on the small table next to the door, taking a moment to turn off the ringer on the phone sitting there. She had worked a bit later than she had planned but was now in the comfort and security of her own house and was happy to be home.

Hobbes met her at the door and meowed loudly. She knelt down and stroked his back, scratching behind his ears and quickly had him purring softly. The two other cats sauntered up, yawning and stretching. She didn't know them very well since she was helping out the local Animal Humane by providing a foster home of sorts. They were relatively young cats, unlike Hobbes who was almost seven and weighed at least twenty pounds, or so she suspected. Becky couldn't really point fingers, since she carried a few extra pounds herself.

She split a can of moist food between the three of them, making sure this meal was more of a snack than dinner, which they would receive later if all went well in her plans. A quick trip to the freezer and she left the cats to their food bowls.

Closing the door lightly behind her, she entered her bedroom where the large canvas hammock was tied between the doorframes, about five feet off the floor. She had purchased this from the surplus store and spent an hour cutting and hemming a few strategically-placed holes in the material, most noticeably a large figure-eight shape near one end.

First, she placed the small plastic cup of ice snugly in a towel on top of her dresser. A small loop of wire was frozen about two inches deep in the ice and hung off of the side of the cup. There was enough weight so when the ice had melted sufficiently the loop would fall out of the cup. Through this loop she ran a string which hung from the ceiling and tied on a small ring with a single handcuff key and a few fisherman's weights attached.

She dimmed the lights and left a single lamp on the floor, almost underneath the hammock. She tied a small length of string to the doorknob and secured the free end in a small hole at one edge of the hammock. This being done she glanced around the room once more and proceeded to her next task.

Slowly she stripped off her clothes and tucked them away in a dresser drawer. Once she was naked she flicked her sensitive nipples until they stood erect. Reaching for her clamps, she carefully applied one to each nipple, and with a small gasp she pushed the sliders a little bit further to ensure they would not come off easily. The pain was subsiding as she next attached a small plastic clothespin to a fold of skin right above her clitoris. Even though she had weakened the spring and practiced this idea a few times before the sudden pain in her soft flesh made her decide not to use this item, at least not this time.

To each of the nipple clamps she attached a small keychain; from each ring hung three leather thongs that were decorated with beads and long colored feathers at the very end. She looked in the mirror as she had several times before and again thought she looked mighty silly.

With a small spray can, she scented both sets of feathers with catnip.

She retrieved a pair of handcuffs that she had ordered through the mail and nudged the step stool nearer to the hammock. Taking a quick breath and checking her devices once more she lifted herself into the hammock and steadied herself. She reached for the rope loop at her feet and cinched her ankles in tightly, assuring that she would be unable to slip out of the hammock easily once her hands were cuffed. Next, she stuffed a pair of her worn panties in her mouth and secured it with a pair of pantyhose, then pulled a black Lyrca sack over her head to serve as a hood. Turning over, she fed the thongs through the large holes and the feathers hung underneath the hammock about three feet off the floor.

With a soft terrycloth belt she had pulled off her bathrobe she wrapped the hammock around her waist and tied off the belt at her side, making it just a bit harder for her to fall out of the hammock, much less lift her boobs out of the holes at the bottom. She tied it off as tightly as she could and took a few deep breaths. Blind, she felt for the cuffs, she fastened one first over her left wrist, then her right.

She was now in it for as long as the ice took to release the loop, and she squirmed in her bondage with the thought. Her boobs hung obscenely from the hammock, the only thing visible, with small feathers hanging from each nipple, white with the clamps.

A few minutes had passed in her mind when she groped for the doorknob string and pulled it. She could hear the creak of the bedroom door opening and the rush of cool air against her butt and legs but did not hear anything else. She quivered at the thought of what was to happen next.

Long minutes passed and she began to think something wasn't working out quite as she had planned when the first tug came without warning on her right nipple. She yelped in surprise and shock but the gag served to suppress the noise. The second tug came a few seconds after the first, on the same nipple and harder this time. She couldn't tell who it might be tormenting her like this, but it seemed like the feathers were working quite well in attracting the cat's attention.

The third abrupt tug came not ten seconds later and this time the cat did not let go; its weight hung from her nipple and jerked erratically. She winced and cried out with each new torrent of pain as the tugs increased, yanking her boob from side to side and then stopped as suddenly as it began.

She felt an exploratory tug on her left breast and then the right nipple was stretched and tugged once more. Her nipples were burning and she realized that this treatment was much worse than just wearing the clamps while she did her housework -- now they were constantly being tugged and pulled as the cats pawed at their newfound plaything.

A few long minutes of boob-pulling and the torment stopped cold once more. She could feel tears at the corners of her eyes and she whimpered softly into her gag. The attacks would come, most unexpectedly and last for seconds or minutes at a time as the cat or cats would enjoy the challenge of catching the sweet-smelling feathers and ponder at the muffled cries that seemed to accompany their success whenever they stood on their hind legs and chewed at the catnip. Hobbes had quickly tired of the game and decided to climb onto her back and take a nap, as he was used to doing. He took no notice of the metal bracelets that encased her wrists and the strange black bag that covered her hair. Ignoring his mistresses strange whimpering, he found a small space near her shoulder and made himself comfortable.

Her nipples were burning with pain and she was certain this idea of hers was a complete success, although she was not too comfortable with the situation at hand; her pussy throbbed in agony and she cursed herself for not applying the clothespin to her clitoral hood as she had intended. The material of the hammock curved in such a way that rubbing herself against the rough surface was impossible.

She resigned to the occasional attacks on her boobs, which seemed to taper off after a bit and was able to rest. She scarcely noticed the keys had already swung free of the ice and were just inches above her fingers as she drifted in and out of sleep, welcoming and dreading the inevitable painful tug when it would come next.

That night after a long bath and feeding the cats the rest of the night's meal, she climbed into bed and turned off the light, caressing her sore nipples and unconsciously planning her next free afternoon. Hobbes climbed into bed and curled up at her shoulder, wrapping his tail around him and closed his eyes, purring softly.