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.