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“High heels are an instrument of torture that some misogynistic man created,” she says, slipping on the heels.
“Don’t blame men. Women are the ones choosing to buy them.”
“True, but I didn’t buy this pair. You did. So that means…”
Standing before her, I reach underneath the coat and grab a buttock. “We already established that I’m sadistic. That’s different from misogynistic.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “There’s probably plenty of overlap.”
“It’s just a coincidence of orientation.”
She raises a brow. “So if you had a guy for a sub, you’d make him wear high-heeled shoes?”
I crush her to me. “Why not? I’m an equal opportunity sadist.”
“Have you ever had a guy for a sub?”
“No, but I’ve seen several scenes between two men. If you’re interested in watching, I can arrange it.”
“I’m interested in getting it on with you. Right now. And if we’re going to go down to the club, let’s go before I start dripping all over myself.”
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
We walk down to the club. I like the rigging in the dungeon room better, but it’s an austere room, so I had one of my staff members make it look more romantic with rose petals strewn on the floor and candlelight.
From behind her, I circle an arm around her waist, pull her into me and feel her up beneath the coat with my other hand.
“You up for a little bastinado tonight?” I ask.
“What’s that?”
“Torture of the feet.”
“Will I have to wear high heels?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll try a little if I have my safe word.”
I bend down and remove her shoes. After taking the coat off her, I walk her to where several cords of rope dangle from the rigger. Taking one the cords, I start with a chest harness and bind her arms bent behind her back. Then I have her kneel on the floor and individually wrap and knot rope about her upper thighs. I then do her thighs just above the knees. Next comes more cords of rope to connect her to the rigging above. Once everything is secured, I hoist her off the floor. The entire process takes just under fifteen minutes.
Once she’s spreadeagled and suspended in midair, I go over to the cabinet and retrieve an electric pump set with tubes for the nipples and clit.
“Your first birthday surprise,” I say as I coat the edge of a tube with lubricant and fit it snuggly over an areola. The other end of the tube is attached to the pump. I do the same with the second tube. The third tube goes about her clit. I turn on the pump, which sucks the air from the tubes, pulling her nipples and clit into them. I disconnect the pump.
“How do they feel?” I ask.
“Oh…um…tight…” Bridget murmurs.
“Remember your safe word?”
She nods as she stares at the tubes protruding from her breasts.
I shed my clothes except for my boxer-briefs and select a medium-weight cane. I tap it over the tops of her breasts, then her belly and legs, warming up her body. She jumps when I land the cane sharply against an inner thigh. I run my fingers around the bottom of the tube, admiring how long and swollen her clit looks inside. I decide to grab a Magic Wand and touch it to the tube. Bridget groans.
“I bet you want this on your clit?” I muse aloud.
“God, yes,” she replies, letting her head fall back.
