The groaning girl tugged hard at her nipples, but to no avail.
“You can’t get them out with your fingers,” the boy told her, “you can’t get a strong-enough grip. You’ll have to use your teeth. Hurry! Your nipples really hurt! Use your teeth to pull the stingers out!”
The girl opened her eyes and looked down at her breasts. The boy panicked for a moment, but calmed down almost at once as he saw that she was focused on her nipples. She sat up and bowed her head and used her hands to guide her breasts up towards her mouth. She bit down first on one nipple and tugged hard at it, then bit down on the other nipple and pulled and twisted it, desperately trying to ease the pain.
“The stingers have barbs, like fish hooks, so you’ll have to yank hard to get them out,” advised the boy.
The girl grunted with the effort as she tugged hard on her nipples, shaking her head back and forth as she did so, jerking her breasts this way and that in her frantic attempts to pull the stings out. The harder she pulled the more the barbs seemed to dig in, holding the stings stubbornly in place; but there was no other way to get them out. She would just have to keep biting harder to get a firmer grip on the stings and to keep yanking harder to break the barbs’ own grip on her nipples. Back and forth she went, alternately concentrating her efforts on one nipple until the pain became too great, then turning her attention to the other nipple until it, too, just hurt too much. The girl labored doggedly, grunting and groaning with each attempt as she strained to remove the cruel stings that she believed were causing the intense pain in her nipples. Her work ethic impressed the boy, who watched in grateful appreciation of the girl’s efforts, which were certainly making him feel better at least, if nothing else.
“Bravo!” said the boy at last, although he was still enjoying the show. “You got the stingers out! You can relax now.”
Tiffany collapsed back onto the bed, breathing hard and perspiring visibly from her exertions. Her nipples still ached terribly, but they did feel better now that she had finally managed to pull the stings out.
When the girl’s breathing had returned nearly to normal, the boy whispered in her ear again: “Your nipples will still hurt bad for a while, but at least you got the stingers out. There’s only one problem. The wasps you killed are an endangered species. If anyone finds out what you did, you could go to prison for years. You’ll have to hide the evidence.”
The girl groaned in despair.
“There’s no need to worry,” the boy reassured her, “not if you have a large wooden spoon.” To his surprise, the girl got up and walked out of the room. The boy followed her to the door and watched as she headed towards the kitchen. She returned a minute later with a 15-inch wooden spoon.
“Good girl!” said the boy. “Now put the dead wasps in your asshole,” he advised her as he placed several red-hot cinnamon candies in her hand, “no one will ever think to look there.” He paused as the girl took the “wasps” and inserted them into her anus. Her eyes opened wide. Putting the wasps up her bottom seemed to have revived them, as they were angrily stinging her again, her bottom hole burning.