Mrs. Reynolds must have seen it in my face. She knew she could do anything to me that she wanted and I could never tell anyone. The expression of power and vengeance on her face when she looked at me told me that she knew I was completely powerless to stop her. She was bent over, reaching out to grab my breasts again, when I saw a light go on behind her eyes. She stood up and put her hands on her hips. She glared down at me and with a smirk said, "Get up."
I slowly got my legs under me and rolled to my knees. Bracing my back against the table, I pushed to my feet. My breasts bounced slightly and my reddened and aching nipples waved at Mrs. Reynolds like a red flag in front of a bull.
"Over here." She pointed to the exercise equipment. I walked over to the weight bench. "Sit," she said. I sat, straddling the bench with my back against the barbell. She looked around the room slowly, debating with herself how to proceed, then she looked down at me. She reached out and took hold of my nipples again. I stiffened with fear, expecting more pain. Instead, she gently rolled them in her fingers massaging them. She stroked my breasts and pulled at my nipples lightly, as if milking them. She did it very well. I knew she could make them feel really good as well as really bad. She leaned over and whispered to me, "Stay right there. Don't move. If you do not obey me, I will tell your mother that her daughter is a slut. If you do anything except what I tell you, I will call her. Do you understand me?"
I nodded. The situation was clear as crystal. I had put myself in the merciless hands of a fiercely jealous and vengeful woman with a breast fixation. I could only hope that she would not do something permanent to me, but at the moment that seemed to be the most likely outcome.
With a final tug, she let go of my nipples and left the room. As I waited for her to return, I thought about running. I had nowhere to run. I couldn't go home and I had no idea where Dad was. I wanted to pull on my bra and my blouse. I wanted to check my nipples, to try to sooth them. I did not dare move. I sat and looked at my breasts and hoped that things weren't going to be as bad as they looked. I tried to imagine what Mrs. Reynolds planned to do to me. Several horrible things ran through my head. As each one occurred to me, I became more terrified until my fear overcame my caution and I tried to pull my arms up and slide my bra and my blouse on enough to be able to reach my breasts. To my dismay, I couldn't. My clothes were twisted around my wrists too tightly for me to slide them back over my shoulders. Frantic, I whipped my arms around until they came free. My blouse and bra fell to the floor behind me.
With my hands free at last, I gingerly touched my sore breasts. I raised each one to look at my nipples. They were distended and sore, but seemed to be otherwise intact. I rubbed them gently to try to work some of the hurt out. As I did, they responded to my touch and stiffened again. My areolas wrinkled up. This was good news. They hurt, they were swollen, but they weren't bleeding and I still had feeling in them. I was still massaging them when Mrs. Reynolds came back down the stairs carrying a large cardboard box. I looked at her with terror in my heart, but she just smiled at me. She hadn't told me not to touch myself, just not to move and I was still in the same spot, so maybe I hadn't made her madder than she was already.
As she approached, I tried to mollify her by putting my hands behind my back and interlacing my fingers. I thought if she saw that I was prepared to submit to her that she might go easier on me. It was a faint hope, but I was grasping at straws.
"Oh good," she said, "You've been saying goodbye to them. That's sweet." My heart almost jumped out of my chest at that, but I did not move. I gripped my hands tighter behind my back and took several deep breaths to try to keep from totally freaking out. It worked, sort of; but I was still petrified with fear. Drops trickled from my pits, overpowering my antiperspirant. I could smell my fear and I suspected that Mrs. Reynolds could, too.
Mrs. Reynolds sat the box down on a nearby table. I tried to peek without being obvious about it, but I couldn't see what was inside. She came over to me and took my breasts in her hands again, feeling my hard nipples and my crinkled areolas. Then she went back to the box and came back with a pair of handcuffs.
"Mr. Reynolds bought a lot of toys when he was alive." She told me. "We used to play with them sometimes. Now I am going to use them to play with you." She walked behind my back and snapped the cuffs on my wrists. "This is just so you don't get the urge to interfere." She went back to the box and came back with a plastic cup in one hand and three pills in the other. She held out the pills in front of my mouth. "Open wide," she said.