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He pulls two small clamps joined by a thin, silver chain from his pocket.
“Wh-what are those?”
“Nipple clamps.”
“I don’t want them.”I say with a hint of desperation.The chain clangs above me as I futilely try to move out of his reach, but I can’t with my arms imprisoned over my head.I can do nothing but hang there helplessly, my body available for whatever pain or pleasure Roman chooses to give.
“You agreed to these in the questionnaire you filled out,” he says mildly.“In fact, you agreed to the use of any and all toys.”His smile is voracious.“I’m looking forward to seeing a plug in your sweet little ass.Maybe one with a tail attached.”
He chuckles at my look of horror, taking advantage of my alarm to attach one of the clamps to my sensitive nipple.
“Ow!”
“Breathe, Ava,” he says softly, his hand stroking my back again.“Breathe through the pain, and it will turn to pleasure.”
I’m not so sure about that, particularly since he’s doing something to the clamp that’s making it even tighter.Fuck, it hurts!I suck air in through my nose until I grow accustomed to the pressure compressing my poor nipple.Apparently satisfied that I’m in sufficient pain, he cups my other breast in his hand, flicking the nipple hard enough to make me wince before applying the other clamp to it.He gives the chain a little tug that makes me gasp, and then he pulls the blindfold out of his pocket, and I’m once again thrown into darkness.
“Take more,” he orders the photographer.
The onslaught of sensation threatens to overwhelm me as I stand there bound and utterly helpless, unable to see or move.The clamps are biting into the tender flesh of my nipples, sending shooting daggers of agony coupled with an odd craving that goes straight to my core, and my body throbs rhythmically with my nipples as the photographers captures my anguish and ecstasy.Then Roman’s back, freeing my wrists from the cuffs over my head only to cuff them again behind me before lifting me off the pedestal.
He kisses me hard, his own arousal and need evident in the thrust of his tongue and the bruising demands of his lips, and I can feel myself start to unravel.He threads his fingers in my hair and tips my head back until my throat is exposed.With brusque instructions for me to stay still, he steps back abruptly and again orders the photographer to take more pictures.
I can feel Roman’s presence near me even before his fingers begin untying the blindfold.He moves back into my field of vision and all of the need that has been building in me all afternoon erupts like a volcano that has been simmering for centuries, finally overflowing.I want to throw myself in his arms.I feel needy in a way I’ve never felt before, and while I know that later I’ll need to examine my feelings and shore up the cracks in the fortress that’s integral to my well-being, in this moment I just want Roman and what he can give me.I want to be made to feel again, to be taken and used.In this room I have become someone else, someone whose desire is only to please and be pleasured.
“What are you?”he asks, his fingers in my hair forcing me to look into his indecipherable eyes which have darkened to blue.
I’m so desperate with need, so consumed by the onslaught of unexpected and unfamiliar desires that I’d tell him anything right now, and I know what he wants to hear.
“Your slave,” I say, my voice ragged.
His eye gleam with triumph as he traces my cheekbone almost reverently with the pad of his thumb.“You will be mine,” he says simply, leaving me wondering what exactly he means.
I don’t have time to wonder long, because he removes one of the clamps from my breast and my nipple erupts into flames.I’m a hundred percent certain I’m going to die.His mouth fastens around the impossibly sensitive peak, and I feel the pain recede as his tongue softly licks the abused flesh, driving my arousal even higher.
I brace myself for the pain as he moves to my other breast, but he distracts me, slapping my ass sharply with an open palm.By the time I’ve processed the sting that quickly morphs into an aching warmth, the clamp is off and his mouth is once again fastened on my nipple, and I’m whimpering at the river of sensations flowing over me.
He releases my breast and lifts his head, his eyes still fixed on my chest.
“Look at how beautiful your nipples are now, Ava.How responsive.”
It’s a command, and I dare not defy him.I sneak a furtive glimpse down at my chest.He’s right; my nipples, normally a dusky rose color, are dark pink and impossibly huge.He circles a finger around the areola and then pinches the engorged tip lightly and I gasp as a streak of sheer lust shoots straight to my clit.
“Kneel for me, schiava.”
I do as he says, lowering myself so that I am subjugated before him.I watch, my heart beating erratically, as he walks over to a wall where a selection of bondage equipment hangs and selects a thick black leather collar.He brings it over to where I’m kneeling and fastens it snugly around my neck, attaching a chain leash to the silver ring attached to the front of the collar.
I accept it wordlessly, although somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice is screaming this is all wrong.But I’m beyond speech, beyond thought.He places the chain of the leash between my teeth, and then steps behind me, tying the blindfold back into place.I remain motionless, listening intently to the click of the camera and the sound of Roman’s muffled instructions to the photographer.
Then Roman’s hands are on me again, lifting me to my feet.He gently removes the leash from my mouth, letting it hang between my breasts as he slowly pulls my panties down and removes them so that I’m completely naked.I’m suddenly grateful for the blindfold and the fact that I can’t see the photographer’s eyes on me.I am simply Roman’s.His schiava.
With a tug of the leash, Roman wordlessly leads me across the room, halting me with a touch of his hand.He uncuffs my hands from behind my back and helps me onto some sort of table, pushing me down with a firm hand until I’m lying on my stomach, my knees supported by a low padded bench on either side of me and my arms dangling.He grabs my hips and ruthlessly yanks me backwards until it feels like my butt is sticking up and out off the edge.
“Perfect,” he murmurs.
I feel his hands on my legs, positioning them as he wraps some sort of fabric around each of my ankles before attaching them to something so that I can’t move them.He skims a finger down my spine, and I can’t help the tiny shiver that his touch elicits.He wraps my wrists with the same fabric that he used on my ankles and within seconds I’m immobilized, once again helpless and at his mercy, open to him.
“This is a spanking bench,” he says softly.
