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“Stand still for it,” he said, but I couldn’t. I danced on my toes, twisting my torso as far as I could while he flicked each of my breasts.
“You’re not being very still.” He was enjoying this, lecturing me, frightening me. I wondered what else was in those drawers. “I think I have a solution for your problem.”
He crossed in my line of sight to another cabinet of scariness. When he opened the door, I got an eyeful of metal dildos and anal plugs in graduating sizes. At first, I thought he intended to plug me, but he brought a dildo instead, thick and hard, about eight inches long, wider at the bottom and tapering toward the top. Not quite as big as his cock, but almost.
“What is that for?”
“Hush.”
He was rubbing it with lubricant, and I saw that the base had a small, flat flange. “Hips forward,” he said, making me arch them away from the cross as much as my bonds would let me. As soon as I did so, he attached the dildo to the cross with a metallic click.
I knew by now what was happening, how he intended to stop me from squirming around. “I’ll try harder to be still, Sir,” I began, as he nudged my hips back. My asshole stretched around the solid metal tip.
“You know what to do,” he said, ignoring my words. “Sink back on it. It’s well lubricated.”
“I can be still on my own. I promise I’ll be more still from now on.”
“Yes, you will, with this in your ass.”
Oww…My legs tensed as I eased back onto the dildo. It wasn’t unbearable pain, but it was uncomfortable and humiliating. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look in his dark brown eyes as I bit my lip and whimpered. How stern he could look, and how sexy it made him. It made the pain a tiny bit easier to bear.
“Good enough,” he said. “That’ll keep you where you’re supposed to be.”
Between the shaft in my ass and the bonds around my arms and legs, I felt dangerously controlled—and aroused. I’d been able to move a little before; now any movement made the shaft slide in my asshole, creating a clit-aching feeling of sexual slavery. Oh God, I wanted sex. I wanted to be fucked, and not just by a metal dildo. I stared at his hard, bobbing cock, wondering how long he’d make me wait.
He turned away and went for something else to torment me with. I closed my eyes, afraid to look. When he pinched my nipples, my worst fears were realized. He held a pair of wicked looking black clamps.
“If you want to be with me, Alice, you have to get used to these.” He dangled them in front of my eyes. “I use them almost every time, because it’s a really fast way to make you hurt. These are going to hurt more than the last ones, okay?”
“Yes, Sir.”
His quiet warning did nothing to prepare me for the burst of torment when he applied the first clamp. They weren’t just strong, they were heavy. I gasped, struggling against the pain, getting fucked by the dildo in my ass because I couldn’t keep still. I tried to twist away from the other clamp, but of course, that was impossible. He gave me a sympathetic look that was nonetheless pleased. “I know, they’re awful,” he said. “They’re called clover clamps, and they come in bigger sizes, for the record. I won’t leave them on longer than ten minutes or so.”
Ten minutes? I needed them off now. I could have safe worded. It would have ended the pain of the nipple clamps, at least, but just as I thought of the wordLala, something kicked on in my brain, something that had me clenching my asshole and pussy, hovering on the edge of an orgasm. I exhaled in short, jerky bursts, caught between terror and a horrid kind of ecstasy.
Then the whip was back, flicking my upper thighs, my hips and stomach, my breasts, making any chance at an orgasm disappear. I cried out at each blow, then sobbed a plea as they grew progressively harder. He ignored me, because I wasn’t supposed to beg for mercy. His only reaction was a concentrated smile. I fucked myself on the dildo as a kind of soothing mechanism, because it hurt less than being whipped. The indignity of it made tears well in my eyes.
When he stopped, I sagged against the cross, as much as the dildo would let me. “I know,” he said, placing the whip beneath my chin to tilt my head up for another kiss. “It hurts, doesn’t it? But you’re feeling pleasure too.” As he said this, he slid his hand down and parted my pussy lips. I was so wet, so soppingdrenched, that I felt humiliated anew. “Maybe this thing between us, Alice…” he said, his lips against my temple. “Maybe we have a chance.”
I nodded, because I couldn’t speak. Every time I moved, the clamps swung, making me tremble at the renewed pain. I felt stinging, hot lines all over my body from the whip. He hadn’t been as gentle as last time, I guess because I wasn’t a beginner anymore. I’d finally calmed myself down when he put down the whip and picked up the Lucite implement again.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, tracing over some of the hot spots he’d already left. “Not that badly.”
He didn’t hit me with the Lucite rod at first. Instead, he slid it along my stomach and down between my pussy lips. It glazed over my clit, slick and hard, and I arched my hips, straining to feel it again, fighting against the shaft in my ass.
“Oh, you like that?” he murmured. “Feels good?”
I made a garbled noise of assent.
“You’re such a maso. But I should have known.”
He drew the rod back and smacked my clit with it, a sharp explosion of pain. “Oh God,” I whispered. “Oh God, Oh God.”
“God’s not listening right now. Only me.” He slid it along my clit again, and the feelings of pleasure warred with dread of the flick that would surely follow. Even so, I couldn’t help grinding against it. The clamps swung from my nipples, with biting, dull pain.
“What a good girl you’re being,” he said. “Let’s take a break for a minute. Let your hair down.”
His fingers ran along my scalp, separating my painstakingly neat braids into loose tendrils that tickled my temples and cheeks. It was a soft, gentle feeling, in contrast to the other pain he was visiting on me. Every few strands, he stopped and kissed me, sometimes softly, sometimes with violent passion or a frightening bite.
