On Wearing An Open-Nipple Bra ...My open-nipple bra experience involved me breastfeeding a much-older man who insisted I call him Daddy. He was very married, but still was one of the most consistent and devoted sucklers I ever had. His high-powered career afforded him the freedom to nurse greedily from me daily during the week and usually at least once on the weekend when he was "golfing." I especially loved that he indulged my need to be dominated and humiliated.
One of our favorite games occurred when I was an extra good girl who provided her daddy lots and lots of my sweet milk. As my reward, he would treat me to dinner at a lovely French restaurant. Daddy picked out my clothing--a high-waisted black skirt, ridiculously tall black patent stilettos, no panties, a an open-nipple bra and an emerald green satin blouse unbuttoned to reveal my 36DD cleavage topped off by a very chaste strand of pearls. Daddy liked my makeup to be a bit on the heavy-handed and slutty slide when he took me out. I was not allowed to pump all day nor did he nurse from me before our dinner dates. By evening, my breasts would be hugely swollen with milk. I would whimper, "Please, Daddy, I need you to suck me hard so bad." He would simply chuckle and watch as I carefully placed nursing pads in my bra over my thick nipples to prevent them from poking out and leaking.
The restaurant was candlelit, popular and terribly expensive. There was always lots of wine which he knew made my milk come in all the more. By the time our meal was over, I would be a little drunk, in a lot of discomfort and terribly, terribly wet and excited. I knew what was coming. Daddy would lean back in his chair and regard me. "Doesn't my little girl need to excuse herself?" I would wobble to the ladies' where I'd unbutton my silk blouse. I would pull out the nursing pads and, one by one, carefully pull my stiffening nipples through the openings in my bra. I'd re-button my blouse and return to our table. As I was instructed, I would then place my nursing pads next to Daddy's hand and sit back down across from him. He'd check my pads for dampness, wink at me and place them in the pocket of his suit coat. He'd pour me another glass of wine and whisper urgently, "Let down NOW, baby girl." At his command, my milk would gush and large, dark wet spots would quickly spread across the front of my beautiful blouse. Daddy would be clearly pleased as I squirmed and blushed and blotted myself with a linen napkin. He would then remind me that I was to act like a big girl and stand up nice and straight with my shoulders back because we had to be leaving now. He'd come around the table and slowly pull my chair out. My daddy would tightly take me by the elbow and parade me through the crowded restaurant. The other diners watched and exchanged glances as my enormous leaking boobs bounced and the soaking emerald green silk clung to my jutting nipples.