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“Manageable,” I told him honestly. A gold chain was wrapped around my neck with two long strands that fell down my torso. It had clamps attached to it that pinched both of my nipples, along with my clit. It had been custom-made much like the gold collar that was locked around my throat.
Cyrus reached around to the back of my neck, pulling until a sharp gasp left me. The slice of delicious pain erupted through me, sending a wave of heat licking over my skin.
“Better?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Good.” He leaned back once again but kept his hand at my nape. His fingers ran back and forth, reminding me with each and every small movement that this was where I belonged. With him. On the floor. At his feet.
I had learned over time that Cyrus meant what he said when he lived the BDSM lifestyle. He just never enforced it until he met me. We spent each and every day learning things about each other. What we liked and didn’t like.
We had gone to a BDSM club a few times over the past several months, but I liked the privacy of our home better.
“In time, I want to be your Master,” Cyrus told me, placing a soft peck on my mouth. “We don’t have to live it twenty-four seven, but I do want you to be my slave. Even if it’s just for one weekend a month.”
I looked up at him then, my heart thumping rapidly. “Yes, I want that too.”
We did what he suggested and spent one weekend a month, living the Master and slave dynamic. Cyrus would make every decision for me from Friday evening once I got home from work. As soon as my first sip of coffee touched my lips on Monday morning, things would go back to how they were the rest of the month.
No one knew about the lifestyle we lived, except for Sammy. I had learned by accident that he lived it as well when we had gone to a club and one of the submissives asked about him. I also learned that he wasn’t quite as gentle as Cyrus was and had his own set of kinks that I was sure would make some submissive happy one day.
“Eyes on me, pet,” Cyrus demanded gently, pulling me from my thoughts.
I met his gaze.
“You good?” he asked, pulling a piece of ice from the glass tumbler in his hand.
I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He ran the ice along my bottom lip.
The cold feeling sent a shiver through every inch of me. My knees spread of their own accord, my body swaying toward him.
His lips pulled up into a grin. “So responsive.”
“For you, Sir.”
“Always for me, pet.” He pushed the piece of ice between my lips, lowering his mouth to mine, the ice melting between us.
Later that night, we were lying in bed, playing one of my video games. Even though I hadn’t needed to play them in a while, it was nice having this little moment with Cyrus. Especially since it was one of the things that started our relationship back in the beginning.
Cyrus had taken the clamps off of me only to put them back on hours later. He had been gentle in the way he first removed them, kissing and touching me while I breathed through the delicious pain. But now that they were once again pinching parts of my body, I was thankful for the earlier reprieve. The slight burn was distracting me from kicking his ass like I usually did whenever we played one of my racing games.
He placed the controller on the nightstand, pulled me back against him, and wrapped his arms around my middle while I continued playing. When his lips found the side of my neck, my breath caught and my car on the screen, crashed into a wall.
Cyrus chuckled, the sound vibrating against me. “Keep playing, pet.” He cupped my inner thighs, pulling my legs over his.
“Sir, I can’t play like this.” My breathing picked up at feeling his hands on my naked body.
“You can and you’re going to.” His hands slid up my inner thighs. When his fingers came into contact with the clamp pinching my clit, a spark of pleasure slammed into me.
“Oh...my...”
“I’ll remove the clamp soon and then give you a break until the next weekend we do this but first, I want you to embrace the pain,” he murmured in my ear. While some of the nerve endings in my clit were damaged, we had found different ways for me to feel pleasure in that part of my body.
I chewed my bottom lip to keep from crying out as Cyrus flicked the clamp lightly. He had been teaching me that pleasure and pain could go hand in hand when it was with the right person.
“Keep playing, pet,” he demanded, wrapping his other hand around my throat. With his fingers that were still between my legs, he tugged at the clamp until my hips were writhing back and forth.
