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The desire to experience sensations and situations so intense that, if only for a weekend, she forgot about the decisions and demands that waited for her outside the club walls.
The next time they’d scened, Benson started with impact play, spanking her long and hard with a variety of implements. Harder and longer than any impact play she’d experienced before. It hadn’t been a punishment. She hadn’t goaded him into it.
He’d beaten her ass because he knew she needed it. Then he’d fucked her ass, slamming his hips into her abused butt, because he needed it.
After that, Mal found it deliciously easy to kneel at his feet, something she’d previously found awkward.
After that, Benson knew he’d found someone who really listened and understood the philosophical aspects of BDSM, which he believed weren’t mere thought exercises, but critical to effective scenes.
After that, Mal learned to always be honest with Benson about what she was thinking or feeling. She learned to trust him enough that she didn’t edit what she said before speaking.
After that, Benson pushed himself to explore types of play that he’d deemed too dangerous—either physically or emotionally—to attempt with other submissives.
Benson’s finger trailed down Mal’s neck, over her collarbones and over the upper swell of her breast.
“I’ll be giving you an enema first, not just for function. You’ll be taking enough to cramp, and I’ll expect you to hold it until I allow you release.”
“Of course, Master.”
He gently manipulated her nipple piercings. It would be another three weeks before they were fully healed, but they had healed enough that Mal no longer wore bandage-like nipple covers.
“You’re taking care of them?” Benson rotated the small gold ring from side to side through her nipple.
“Yes, Master.”
“Once they’re healed, I will not be gentle with them.”
Mal’s eyes fluttered closed briefly, and she touched her tongue to her lower lip. “Thank you, Master.”
Mal wanted them pierced, and had for quite a while, but hadn’t ever gone through with it. When she told Benson about her desire, but admitted she couldn’t quite bring herself to walk into a tattoo parlor, he’d taken control. With her enthusiastic consent, he’d organized to have her pierced at Las Palmas. Zee, a celebrity piercer and tattoo artist had come to the club to handle ninety-five percent of the process.
Despite their initial conversations, the day of the piercing, Zee insisted on speaking with Mal alone, to ensure this really was something Mal wanted. Mal had informed them that having her Master order her to get her nipples pieced was the most sexually and emotionally fulfilling thing that had ever happened to her. Zee had congratulated Mal on finding someone who fulfilled her needs.
The next time Zee saw Malvia, Benson had strapped her to a bondage chair, her legs spread wide. She naked and with her pussy on display and exposed. Benson clamped her labia with medical clamps—thematically appropriate for the piercing—and then spread her cunt open, taping the handles to Mal’s inner thighs.
Beth, on loan from Domme Cat, knelt between Mal’s legs, ready to suck and lick her clit on Benson’s command.
This was an opportunity that couldn’t be repeated, and he’d planned to take full advantage of the unique opportunity to mingle pain with pleasure.
To that end, he’d also spent the afternoon keeping her on the edge of orgasm. When his own arousal reached a fever pitch in reaction to watching her writhe and moan in desperate arousal, he’d fuck her mouth or ass.
Zee had prepped Mal’s breasts and nipples. They’d drawn the placement dots, using a mirror to ask Mal if she liked it. Mal had looked to Benson, who’d asked Zee to shift the placement slightly to ensure that once they healed, the piercings would be well-situated to take weights and chains. The piercer had cleaned off the first dots, then gently pulled on each nipple, marking a spot only millimeters back from the original placement.
During the preparation for the piercer coming, Master Leo had repeatedly reminded Mal that she and Benson weren’t a bonded Dom-sub pair. The club used that term the way many others in the BDSM community used the term “collared.” Mal had assured him, both in front of Benson and in private, that she wasn’t getting the piercings because of or for Benson. He was just her play partner who agreed to make it part of a scene because she’d find that more fulfilling.
Benson had examined and given his approval for the second set of dots. Master Leo was in the room that day to observe, and probably to watch for liability issues. He’d once more brought up that they had no formal relationship.
That had been enough to have Zee send Benson, Leo, and Beth out of the room so Mal could check that she was happy with the placements sans outside influence or pressure. Then Zee asked about what Leo had said. Asked one more time if Mal really wanted this.
Mal had quietly informed the piercer she couldn’t believe something she fantasized about was finally happening, and that she was so happy she felt a little teary.
Mal hadn’t addressed their lack of formal relationship.
Everyone trooped back in, the air thick with anticipation.
Zee placed the clamps, the triangular opening in the flat tips centered over the placement dots. They had, at Benson’s request, and with a confirming nod from Mal, placed both clamps at once, rather than one at a time. Mal’s breath hissing out between her teeth as her nipples were cruelly pinched.
But in the end, it was Benson who held the needle. Following the piercer’s careful instructions, and with Zee holding the clamp, he’d driven the needle through her flesh.
