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I’m handcuffed to the bed with clamps on my nipples. They hurt…but they sort of don’t. I relax back on the bed. The sensitive flesh where the clamps are attached is tingling.
How can this man treat me like this?
This is his revenge. This is my punishment.
So why am I desperate for him to come back and punish me some more.
18
EATON
Idon’t have a phone call to take. My Apple Watch was buzzing to remind me to drink some water, but I wasn’t about to tell Shelby that. Not when she’d looks so pretty wearing nipple clamps. She needs to adjust to them, and by leaving the room for a few minutes, I’m giving her the space and time to do that.
“You all right?” Max appears around the corner, his hand wrapped around his mobile.
“Just waiting.” I smirk.
He rolls his eyes, knowing full well what I’m doing; he was with me when I bought my new toys.
“While you’re waiting, it’s the Duke of Oakfield on the phone.” Max nods toward his mobile. “He’s in Los Angeles and wants to meet up about the artwork you requested. He says he’s got an opportunity coming up in the next few weeks to acquire it if you’re still interested.”
I nod my head. “Arrange a meeting in a few days. I’m still interested.”
“I’ll sort it immediately.”
Max wanders off, and I make my way back into the room to check on Shelby. Cuffed to the bed, wearing a short, white skirt with her black top and bra both cut in half, exposing her breasts, she’s a beautiful sight. But it’s the clamps on her nipples that excite me the most.
“An important call?” Shelby addresses me. There’s a slight tension in her voice.
“Yes, very important. I’ll need to go to LA in a few days. I hope you’ll behave while I’m away.”
“I hope you’ll take these things off me before you go.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I might. How do they feel?”
“They hurt,” she replies quickly with a tremor to her voice.
“You sure about that?”
Moving over to the bed, I run my fingers lightly over the swell of her delicate breasts. I cringe at the memory of her being little more than skin and bones when she first arrived here. She looks as if she’s increased from a B cup to a C cup since she started eating properly. It suits her. Plus, it gives me more to play with.
“Don’t,” she protests and tries to wriggle away from my touch.
I can see she’s still fighting in her head with what’s right and wrong, but she knows I won’t hurt her and her body must be humming with excitement by now. Grabbing one of the nipple clamps, I gently tug on it. A small groan of pleasure leaves her lips.
“Please don’t,” she pleads again, but I don’t listen. Instead, I flick at the other clamp.
“Did you ever have any aspirations as a child? Ever wanted something more? Was there a subject at school that grabbed your attention?” I question.
Shelby is my captive audience. I’ve read about her and and observed her on camera, but now I want her to tell me about herself.
“I was told by my teachers I was smart, but I barely went to school and only just about managed to graduate. I was too busy having to work and scrounge to make sure we had a roof over our heads and enough food to eat. I think you know that only too well,” she replies before shutting her eyes.
I’m not sure if she’s trying to block out my questioning or she’s concentrating on the sensations from the clamps I’m still playing with; maybe it’s a bit of both.
“But when you were there, did any subject interest you?” I’m persistent if nothing else. I could do this all night.
Why do I even want to know the answer to this question?
