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“It’s done. But perhaps you can’t see it from your position,” he noted, “there’s a little blood, but we’ll watch it carefully.” He dabbed at her sore cunt for some moments with a cool ointment that eased the immediate sting.
With the piercing over, the three in choreographed unison backed away, leaving Tessa on her alter without a hand to comfort her. They moved to the other side of the room where Tessa could not hear them speak. That was okay with her, she was getting used to the feelings in her pussy. The rod had been cold when she first felt it, though now, the metal was beginning to heat from the warmth of her own body. Still, that was little consolation. The foreign presence splaying her open was defilement far more sobering than any of the other studs and rings had been. They were sassy decorations, statements of submission perhaps, but this was equal to being bound, permanently.
With the rod in place, her splayed pubic lips exposed her clitoris and vagina to any sunshine or breath of air that crossed them; it made her whole cunt twitch and the opening between her lips spasm involuntarily.
“So, my love,” Miles voice brought her out of her reverie. He was looking down on her, moving closer, reaching low enough to pick up the chains. He tugged them as Martine had done. “How does it feel?”
“Strange.”
He nodded, the answer acceptable.
“You’re ready then for Damien’s Ball. At least your body is ready. Match your mind to the state of your cunt and you’ll have a successful soiree. Otherwise, you’ll hate it.” The way he spoke to her sounded as if he doubted her fitness for the role. Though even more disturbing was the hint of mockery in his voice. It challenged her to remember the moments when his warmth embraced her, the times he’d said “I love you” clear out of the blue, the instants of pure bliss when it seemed that they were inextricably one in their crazed sexual desires. Now, the icy chill was so profound, she wondered if she’d misread him all these months.
“So, she’s mine,” Martine said, slithering up to Miles’ side. Her hand met his crotch in front, her fingers fondling what looked to be a stiff dick.
Miles pushed the woman down to her knees, while his eyes remained on Tessa. Opening the fly of his jeans, Martine pulled out the long shaft, and opened her mouth to take the purple head.
Tessa turned her eyes away.
“Look at me, Tessa,” he ordered her.
She didn’t want to see Martine satisfy him, and she was bold enough to defy him, at least for an instant.
Seeing her eyes retreat, Miles pushed Martine aside and bent over his recalcitrant submissive, pulling at the chains so hard she thought her nipples would be ripped off.
“Yeeeeseeeesh,” she squealed as she watched her breasts and nipples stretched out tight. He wouldn’t stop.
“Are you going to defy me bitch?” he asked. He knelt beside her, his face in her face.
“Pleeeeese,” she was beginning to cry.
“What is it?” he demanded, unmoved by her tears.
“Please, no.” She was desperate, she could hardly think through the pain. “Please, I’m sorry.”
“You damn well better be,” he said, releasing the chains for an instant, then tugging them again.
“Oh gawd,” she cried. He grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on him.
“You watch us, slut. You watch her take my cock. Don’t you dare take your eyes off of us for a second; you hear me?”
“Yes.” Her frightened eyes were fixed on him.
He eased his grasp on the chains, though he didn’t drop them. Standing again, Martine resumed the blowjob, taking the thick prick inside her mouth with a pleasure she would not often show any man. Throwing the facts in her roommate’s face was motivation enough. She bobbed up and down on Miles shaft, and then feeling him about to explode, she backed away, and let his cum spew out on her face for Tessa to see.
Miles groaned lustily as he looked down at his bound slave and tugged the chain again.
“Maybe you’re not ready for Damien’s Ball,” he remarked when he put his cock back inside his pants. “Untie her,” he ordered Martine. “Let this sub sulk for awhile, if that’s what she needs; let her think about being submissive. She’s a far cry from the good little whore she needs to be.”
He left with a look of disgust on his face. Vincent had left earlier, so Tessa was left alone with her roommate.
“I would have liked to have sucked this pussy of yours so prettily laid out, but you don’t deserve it,” Martine said, swaggering about as arrogantly as Miles.
She undid Tessa’s bonds: her
wrists, ankles, knees, and the strap around her waist. But she didn’t bother to help Tessa from the table. Over an hour under the strain of the ropes had left her weak. She felt her wrists, which were sore and marked where the cuffs had cut into her flesh. She must have strained more than she realized and she needed to rub them to restore any feeling. Her legs ached; they’d stiffened into their strained, awkward positions. Worst of all was the bar at her cunt, which stretched her flesh as she sat against the hard surface of the coffee table. Its presence would be an obsessive nagging complaint until she got used to it, until her flesh conformed to the way it was unnaturally pulled; that is, if she ever got used to it.
Tessa expected this piece of submissive garb to excite her; but at the moment it was only a flaming annoyance. She was glad that Miles and Vincent had left, glad that Martine was ignoring her, off in the kitchen somewhere. Pulling to her feet, she quietly retreated to her bedroom.
