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He pumped his fingers into her, curving them to hit her G-spot every single time. Her hips tilted, both a reaction to his rhythm and a need to grind her clit against his palm. The chains didn’t allow for much movement, but they gave a little.
“Beautiful. Fuck, Cella. I want to see your eyes.”
She felt him yank the blindfold away, pulling her hair a bit in the process. Sean’s face, a determined set to his jaw, greeted the return of her vision. A strand of sun-streaked brown hair fell over his forehead. His nostrils flared, and his lips parted. All at once, she came. The orgasm blinded her. She shouted, and he only thrust into her faster. Waves washed over her body, tingling up her arms and down her legs. She felt battered, completely at their mercy.
When she came down, she found her head resting on Sean’s shoulder. He held her close with one hand on her waist, and he stroked her hair with his other hand. She wanted to hold him, but when she tried, her hand wouldn’t move. The clink of chains reminded her that she was still bound in the center of the room.
“Thank you, Master.”
He kissed her forehead. “Don’t thank me yet, slave. You disobeyed a direct order. I told you to ask first.”
She didn’t think telling him the sight of his handsome face had sent her over the edge would lessen her punishment, so she kept her lips sealed. “I’m sorry, Master.”
He released her from his embrace. She set her feet and readied her psyche for whatever whip or cane he chose to use. He knelt down and unbuckled her ankles. Then he stood and released her arms, massaging them from palm to shoulder.
“How are your arms, Cella?”
“A little sore, Master. They’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
He nodded, and a sense of satisfaction flashed behind his eyes. Green, she noted. Her thighs trembled, barely supporting her weight.
“Kneel.” He pointed to a thick pillow on the floor a few feet away.
The foam inside cushioned her knees and saved her from those annoying little bruises that came from kneeling on hard surfaces. The chain connecting her nipples patted an uneven rhythm just below her sternum as she moved. She spread her knees shoulder-width apart and sat back on her heels. The beads in her ass shifted and rubbed, pressing against her still-throbbing pussy walls. She wanted to rub her clit, to prolong the pleasurable sensations.
Her hands automatically folded behind her back, preventing her from following through on her impulse. She waited in silence, staring at a snag in the rug under the spanking bench. Her mind wandered, caught on the imperfection. Would he want her to take care of that? She had never before entered his dungeon without his knowledge and approval. But now it seemed a little less “his” and a little more “theirs.”
Denim-clad legs stopped in front of her. Marcella resisted her urge to follow them up, to see if a bulge in his jeans betrayed a desire for her. He squatted, flexing those magnificently powerful thighs. She wished desperately for permission to touch him, to run her hands over his body and worship him the way she had fantasized so many times.
Ice clinked. He held a glass of water out to her. “Drink, Marcella.”
She unclasped her hands from behind her back and downed the water. The coldness slipped down her throat, bringing relief. She hadn’t realized how dry she had become.
When she handed the glass back, only the few ice cubes remained. He accepted it with a smile. Her heartbeat sped up. “Good girl. Now spread your legs wider. Leave your hands on your thighs.”
She did as he ordered. He reached forward too quickly for her to see, but she didn’t worry too much since his aim would take him directly to her pussy. Something hard nudged the opening of her vagina. She looked down, but his arm and hand obscured her view.
“Relax, my little slave. This is just a mild punishment to help you cool down. I have lots of plans for this pretty little cunt. I can’t have it overheating.”
As he held the hard object to her opening and spoke, his play on words became clear. The glass dildo had been kept in the ice bucket. The temperature of the lubricant he’d slathered on took a moment to cool down. He angled the head and pushed the glass dildo into her pussy.
The unforgiving hardness took her first. Most dildos had some give to make them feel comfortable inside. Glass had no mercy. It stretched her wide, working with the beads in her ass, moving together ever so slightly with each breath she took.
Just when she began to grow used to this exquisite torture, the iciness of the glass penetrated her hot, swollen tissues. The temperature difference both shocked and soothed.
