I loved every minute of it. Pay back is sweet. And just look at Sheila now. Her wrists are crossed and straped oh so tightly. Beyond tight. The straps cut deeply, almost cutting circulation. So do the straps pinning her elbows together above her head. And what a head. While she was unconscious I stuffed her mouth with her panties into one cheek and then my panties into the other. Then I pushed a nice hard ball in to pack it all in. Then a 2 inch plastic band pushing the ball even farther in. For good measure a 3 inch leather strap pulled with my utmost strength and buckled to seal the job. Now she would finally shut up. Great to have that vain self-adoring voice stopped.

What had been the final straw? That bitch paraded her tits to me. Told me how my boyfriend just loved them, worshipped them, told her how much he preferred her huge DD’s to my very nice but definitely smaller bust. I just lost it then. I swung at her and caught her just right. Sheila went down, hitting her head against a table on the way down. Out cold. For a moment I was petrified. Then anger took over and I decided to let opportunity be my guide.

Now I completed her bondage with a long strap leading from her wrists down to her crossed ankles which pulled her wrists down to the base of her neck and pulled her ankles up to the top of her admittedly very nice ass. I put a wood rod behind her bent knees, then opening the closet door I pulled her knees up until her chest was at door knob level facing into the closet. It was simple to swing the closet door shut locking her into the dark closet.

While she hung there in the darkness, I formed my plan. I need to accomplish two things. First I had to insulate myself from legal repercussions. In many places the law frown upon knocking your roommate cold then binding her into an agonizing position and locking her away. Second I intended to get total revenge against this bitch. I owed it to myself.

After a few minutes I heard banging which I assumed was her head hitting back against the closet door. I opened the door wide and admired my work. She hung there from the top of the door with her bentback knees, arms pinned behind her head, shoulders straining from the tight strap around her elbows. Must hurt terribly.

Hang there, bitch, I said. And I want you very still while I take a few hours to decide what to do with you. I took a wide strip of duct tape, pressed the center of it down over her forehead, and fixed the ends tightly to each side of the closet door. That ended the head banging.

In case she might forget who was now in charge, I took one of her very expensive crocodile belts from the closet and whipped it across the base of her tits which were hanging nipples down. She tried to twist but got nowhere. And her reply, which I assume was something like; fuck you bitch, let me fucking go or else, was completely cut off by the gag. I whipped her tits a few more times, then started in on the rest of her helpless body. I closed the door again.

Now I should tell you that I am no stranger to bondage. In my late teens I had the good fortune to attract a man who was unbelievably skilled in bondage, a rope master who taught classes in bondage to amateur young couples looking for diversion. I became his bondage model for photos and classes. I spent many hours savoring the way the ropes marked my flesh and the way the gag kept me in silent meditation. I spent hours waiting for him to pull my legs apart and fuck my helpless, perspired, needy body. Gradually I learned the discipline, and application of rope, strap and gag. As I matured I became dominant but had let my bondage skills diminish. Until now. This bitch deserved something special.

Then I remembered a remark my former master had made about a sex slave he had seen whose owner, a woman, had taken advantage of her slave’s big breasts. I had actually implored my master to deal with me the same way, but he declined because he knew it would permanently mangle my beautiful tits.

There was no rush. My roommate bitch was going nowhere. Hardware stores sell long flexible strips of small, thin half inch needle points mounted on glue down fabric. They also sell rolls of thin copper wire. A quick trip down the street gave me all the equipment I needed.

Once back I assembled my supplies. No surprise that Sheila was still hanging the way I had left her. Torture time I said. I began with the needle strips. I lifted her left breast up with the palm of my hand. I did have to admit that if you like them extra large, she had the equipment. They were meaty and round with the puffy nipples that look so great on centerfolds. I wound the first foot long strip around the base of her breast, pulling it as tight as possible and making sure the needles penetrated in. I then wound coil after coil of copper wire around the srip until the base of her tit was completely wound in copper. I worked up first with needle strips, then wire until I reached the nipple. I push a sewing needle through her nipple to make a hold, then put a small bolt through and tightened the nut brutally clamping her nipple. I wound the wire off around the ends of the bolt until it too was covered in gleaming copper.

By this time Sheila had passed out from the pain. That would not do. I wanted her to see and feel the experience. I revived her with a drop of vinegar into her nostrils, then proceeded with the right breast until it too was covered in shining copper wire clamp down a undercoat to needle filled fabric.

I stepped back to admire my work. Wonderful what can be done with simple supplies. Her appearance was amazing. Her breast pointed straight out and had been compressed into elongated cones. She looked like a statue from some ancient earth goddess culture. I took one breast in each hand, then squeezed and kneaded them. Each time I squeezed the needles pressed in deeper. She could make no sound but her breathing turned into gasps each time I clamed a breast in my hand.

I hope you are enjoying this, I said. You will be spending the rest of your life modeling bondage like this or even more severe. I placed a call to my old master. Would you like a gorgeous but unwilling slave, I asked. I think you will admire the hell-bra I have crafted for her. I put down the phone and turned to face Sheila. We only have a few more hours together, I said, but I will make sure I enjoy them. With that I took a coat hanger from the closet, unwound and straightened it, then began to whip her tits and everywhere else with the thin wire. I wonder how my boyfriend will feel about my next roommate.