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Chapter Twenty-Two
The tension in the rope is causing my shoulders to cramp. He’s tied me to the cross, my legs bound together and my arms both suspended straight out making me match the ‘T’ shape of the wood behind me. Another rope confines my chest, binding each breast. I look down and notice the color of my skin changing as the blood rushes to surface.
The rough post isn’t exactly what I’d chose to be held up against with my ass still burning from whelps.
He attaches the nipple clamps to me before he begins to use the flogger on the front of my body. Each one of the strikes feeling much different than what they felt like on my ass.
“Has anyone every told you how sexy you are?” This time Damon isn’t whispering.
“Only you, Sir.” I close my eyes and accept every bite of the leather as he continues to flip his wrist, landing each one in a new spot.
He releases the clamps, dropping each of them to the floor and never missing the rhythm he had going. A tight tingle flows through each breast, making me want to scream out, but I hold back. I bite down on my jaw and hold every bit of noise back.
“Tell me you want me to stop.”
“Please don’t.”
“Address me properly.” He startles me with that mean voice of his. I haven’t heard it in days, but he seems to turn to it easily in this house.
“Please don’t stop, Sir.”
He doesn’t listen and instead rushes to stand against me, attacking me with his mouth and kissing everything he just hit. Biting and nibbling the skin, making me feel an entirely new sensation that I can barely comprehend.
I scream out, but it doesn’t seem to make him mad. He actually presses against me harder, rubbing himself against my hips while I wish like hell I could just wrap my legs around him and let him do what we’ve been doing the past few days.
“We can’t yet.” This comes out as a whisper against my neck and a chill down my body. Damnit. I hate this patience crap.
He torments me through an hour of teasing, using everything imaginable he can on the surface of my skin, never inserting anything even when I flexed internally as if to make him know I wanted him to invade me further. I’m only guessing that’s part of this challenge.
When we hear a knock at the door, he leaves me to answer it. I force myself to look down when he opens the door, not wanting to distract myself from what him and I have so easily.
I hear multiple footsteps come in, all of them keeping their distance. I can only imagine that they are all here to watch like Damon had me do. I don’t know if Brock entered the room and I refuse to find out. He would just make me angry and get in my head.
“You have visitors Camille… they’re here to watch you lose control. Some of them want you to fail.” Damon walks in front of me as if he’s wanting me to zone in on him and only him.
“A true submissive will do anything their dominant partner asks them to do. Are you ready to finish the second challenge?” I nod yes to him.
“I can’t hear you, Camille.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He has a knife in his hand. I’m not sure when he picked it up, but that really doesn’t matter. The look on his face is what I focus on. Damon won’t hurt me. I know this… and he knows I know it, which is why he’s going to play this up for show.
The blade slices through the rope easily, freeing my legs first, then each of my arms. He leaves the binding on my chest. He guides me to the St. Andrews cross and runs his hand over the beads draped over each of the posts. Positioning me in place so that I’m directly in front of our audience, he uses only the beads to bind me to the cross.
“Stand on the tips of your toes.” A different link of beads on each leg and wrist is all that’s keeping me in place, even though my wrists are higher than would allow me to stand flat-footed, I do my best to relax my legs and still keep the height I need to accomplish this.
I know right now my challenge is to keep the beads in place. Allowing any of them to spread all over the ground will mean failure. Failure isn’t an option.
“Open your eyes, Camille.” Damon’s stern stare reminds me to watch him. To stay in the moment and not let anyone get to me. I hear the vibrator and can already feel my legs cramping from having to stand like this. How the hell am I going to fight off an orgasm and not break the tension on my restraints?
Damon doesn’t give me any time to figure that out. He’s holding the massager to my clit, watching me react to the surge of energy that bolts through me the second he does. I take a deep breath and allow him to take me to the edge, knowing he’s not going to take me over. He won’t allow my body to fall limp or spasm through an orgasm like this.
He pulls away just in time, but only allows me a few seconds of relief before he’s in place again. This goes on for what feels like hours, each time making it harder to get through the next. My arms ache. My legs hurt. My ass and tits burn from the whelps and I’m still here trying to complete whatever this shit is.
“Open your eyes. Don’t fucking close them again.” I force them open once again. This time I can see Brock standing directly behind Damon. I’m sure he’s hoping I’ll lose concentration and fail at this little game, but what he doesn’t realize is he just gave me the fuel I need to get through it.
“Sir, please.”
