It turns out you don't have Dan by the balls, he has you by the tits!

You're so sure of your victory that when you hear a humming sound you don't even realize what it is until you feel the cold press of glass scraping along your ribs, up into the undersides of your breasts. You stare down in stunned disbelief. The little cockroach, he closed his windows on your breasts!

Furious, you jump back, but that's the exact wrong thing to do. With the window sealed so tightly the vast majority of your breasts are stuck inside the car like bloated balloons, and trying to pull them out is like trying to pull them off. There's just no room for them to escape back out the window until Dan rolls it down again.

"Dan!" you yell, after the pain your attempted retreat brings.

You can hear him laugh inside the car, a mean little sound that chills you. You're about to yell again, but the car tires scrunch and roll forward.

"Hey! Hey! Open the window, this isn't funny!" you yell, thumping the door with your knee.

"Neither's nearly getting me arrested by the cops!" he calls back, giving it more gas.

"That wasn't my fault!" you protest. You stumble on a pebble, and for a moment only your tits are supporting you. They feel like someone filled them with gasoline and lit them until you get your feet under you, and even then the relief is only like someone sprayed water from a windex bottle onto the flames, soothing it barely at all.

In a last ditch effort as the speed increases you leap onto the sideboards of the car, crouching awkwardly to lean against the car. Only your legs are letting you press forward to take the strain from your breasts, your cuffed hands behind you clenching and unclenching uselessly.

"Nnnnoooooooo!!!!" you cry out as he speeds up. Abruptly he jerks the car into a left hand turn, the momentum thrusting your weight backwards.

The fire returns with a vengeance, their flames hotter and higher than ever,and your breasts feel like they're ripping from your body.

"Please!" you yell over and over, "I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" Dan called from within the car, slowing so abruptly you lose your footing. You're only airborne for a second, but it does nothing to soot the burning pain it creates in your precious mammaries.

"Anything!" You cry, climbing back onto the sideboard.

"Hold on, Joy."

You moan, certain he's going to start speeding again, and brace your trembling legs again, praying that someone will see and call the cops. Being arrested would be better than this.

But by some miracle there's no one around, the factories and warehouses you pass have their parking lots full and all employees are working industriously inside.

It's a short trip at a slow speed, with few turns, ending when Dan pulls up behind a warehouse.

You want to believe it's over, to take your trembling feet off the sideboard and onto the ground again, but you can't help but think that if you do it'll move forward again. It isn't until the engine shuts off and Dan's door opens that you let out a shaky breath, put your forehead on the roof of the car and your feet onto hot asphalt.

"I know exactly what I want," Dan says, grinning like a shark.