Tales of Submission:
Erotic Stories of Female Bondage and Punishment
Edited by Matt Nicholson
Tales of Submission:
Erotic Stories of Female Bondage and Punishment
Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Matt Nicholson. All rights reserved.
Smashword Edition, License Notes
This work contains graphic language and sexual depictions of sometimes extreme consensual and semi-consensual female bondage and sadomasochism. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters places and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or redistribute this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Darker Pleasures, webmaster at darkerpleasures.com.
You’ve Got Mail by Elizabeth Faraday
Surprise! by Matt Nicholson
Memories of a Masochist by Jude Mason
A Games of Submission by Ruth Fox
Do It Yourself by Lee Ash
Torture Me by Cherry Lee
A Tropical Submissive by Paula M.
Paying Her Dues by Coco McCloud
Handyman by John Hayworth
Introduction – Matt Nicholson
You’ve Got Mail – Elizabeth Faraday
Surprise! – Matt Nicholson
Memories of a Masochist – Jude Mason
A Game of Submission – Ruth Fox
Do It Yourself – Lee Ash
Torture Me – Cherry Lee
Paying Her Dues – Coco McCloud
Handyman – John Hayworth
A Tropical Submissive – Paula M.
When it comes to really kinky sex, most people think about of things like suede floggers, rubber dildos and a stash of clothespins hidden in the back of closets. Once the torment toys are out, the truly adventurous may add ball gags and blindfolds taken from an underwear drawer to the mix. Most fantasies finish out the ensemble with something like velvet rope or panty hose securely binding their lovely submissive’s wrists and ankles to the corners of a king-sized bed in the master bedroom. Imaginations go from there.
That’s what I had in mind for Tales of Submission: Erotic Stories of Female Bondage and Punishment. I hand chose some of Darker Pleasures’ best erotic stories focusing on the fine art of tying up, tormenting and doing really fun sex things with submissive women in the household setting. After all, since some of the best kink comes after we’ve thoroughly vetted and scored a sexy partner, a lot of us can relate to wanting to tie other knots and start playing a little rough as soon as humanly possible afterward.
In the following pages, you’ll find nine sensual stories by some great erotic writers. They all paint stimulating pictures of relatively conventional BDSM—lots of bondage, tormented breasts, some pussy teasing and spanking and other kinds of erotic punishment that happens between consenting husbands and their blissfully submissive wives.
Granted, a couple of the stories take a decidedly modern twist on the scene. Elizabeth Faraday’s “You’ve Got Mail” and Cherry Lee’s “Torture Me” both play with women who have unconventional Internet lifestyles they’ve kept hidden in the closet. Others, like Jude Mason’s “Memories of a Masochist” well-equipped dungeon and Ruth Fox’s “Games of Submission” immaculate playroom, trade multi-media rooms for less conventional entertainment rooms, but still...
I suppose my home invasion, pool table bondage party in “Surprise!” doesn’t much qualify as conventional either, any more than the remodeling does in Lee Ash’s “Do It Yourself” or John Hayworth’s “Handyman.”
And sure, neither Coco McCloud’s “Paying Her Dues” nor Paula M.’s “A Tropical Submissive” even take place in a house or under circumstances most any of us have probably considered, but they do... um…
Right. And on further examination, I’ll admit that the stories I’ve chosen don’t always stick to the normal types of kinky toys—floggers, dildos and nipple clamps and the like—, either. A couple of the stories branch into hand tool territory. One takes a decidedly culinary turn. There are also pool cues and party balloons, hypodermic needles, champagne bottles and candles, canes, wood trim and a Cuisinart.
Got you! There’s no Cuisinart. There is an angle-grinder, though.
So I may have been mistaken about the situations and toys being conventional. At least the stories all involve submissive wives who consent whole-heartedly to all the nipple-twisting, clit-pinching, spanking and other fun. Well, at least for the most part. Except for maybe a little bit, here and there. Ignoring the fact that not all of them are even married. Well, the men are all dominant and the women submissive.
Kind of.
Okay, maybe I should have used the term ‘semi-consensual’ in a few cases.
At least one of the stories does take place in the bedroom, on a bed, with bound limbs and toys previously hidden in a closet. There are a couple of nipple clamp scenes. I’m sure there was at least one ball gag and a blindfold.
Yeah, maybe it’s time for me to re-evaluate my whole take on this introduction.
Tales of Submission: Erotic Stories of Female Bondage and Punishment.
Submission—Yeah, the women all give in, usually of their own free-will. Eventually. So… check.
Erotic stories—Nine stories that will definitely get the juices flowing… check.
Female bondage and punishment—All the women are tied up a lot. Breasts, bottoms and girl bits twisted, clamped, pinched, bit, spanked, poked, hand-tooled… Most assuredly check.
Even though the premise of my introduction was a little off, I trust you’ll find these erotically sadomasochistic stories hot and entertaining. In the meantime, I’ll keep working on my introduction-writing skills.
Matt Nicholson - 2012
By Elizabeth Faraday
“Hi, honey. Miss me?”
Cindy stifled a startled gasp as her boyfriend spoke from the door behind her. She quickly spun in her chair, hoping it would be enough to block the screen.
“Of course,” she lied, her stomach clenching in panic as she swiftly gauged the distance from where he stood to her computer. Could he see the e-mail she had open on the screen? “That was quick.”
“I didn’t need as much as I thought for the project, so I ended up going to the local hardware instead of Home Depot.” Brandon leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest. “What’re you up to?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just cleaning out my e-mail. Got a bunch of glurge from my family, as usual.” Cindy reached for her mouse as nonchalantly as possible and closed her open letter, silently cursing him for not staying gone just a bit longer. She’d been almost finished with her response to her newest contact from the SubmissionSex chatroom, and now she’d have to do it all over again.
“Must be some hot e-mail,” Brandon teased. “If your shirt was any thinner, I think your nipples would be poking holes through it.”
In spite of herself, Cindy flushed. “It’s the air conditioning. You keep it cold enough to house polar bears in here.” She hoped he hadn't seen her absently tweaking them just moments before.
“Sorry.” Brandon shifted guiltily, as Cindy had known he would. “Want some coffee? I just put a pot on.”
“Sure, sounds great.”
She felt a flash of irritation as she watched Brandon leave. It was great that he was thoughtful, but sometimes he was almost too nice, especially when it came to sex. He couldn’t have been farther from the contacts she’d made in the chatroom. On the other hand, while she liked to read about what the internet ‘Masters’ liked to do to their women, there were some types of bondage they seemed almost obsessed with that she wasn’t sure about. Breast bondage, for example.
She didn’t think her tits could take even half of some of the things they claimed they forced their women to take, but it made for erotic reading as long as they didn’t obsess too much on the topic. And it made her horny as hell thinking about the things they did she thought she could take.
Still, she told herself, better Brandon than an unknown quantity. For all she knew, half of the ‘masters’ looked like toads and smelled like pigs. Still, they gave good letter. Glancing once behind her to make sure Brandon hadn’t yet returned, Cindy opened up her latest e-mail and began re-reading it, quickly becoming absorbed.
When Brandon looped the gag around her head, it took her completely by surprise.
Her mouth filled with what tasted like an incredibly dry strip of cotton, Cindy started to rise, only to be shoved back down into her chair. His hands locked around her upper arms and yanked them behind her, forcing her back to arch uncomfortably.
“Glurge, huh? Doesn’t look like the usual Neiman Marcus cookie recipe or over-circulated jokes to me.”
It was definitely Brandon’s voice and Brandon’s hands, from what Cindy could see, but the tone was one she’d never heard from him, and the carelessly brutal way he was handling her was totally unlike him. She started to protest, only to have the words lost in the muffle of the fabric. Fingers crushed into the soft flesh of her arms, wringing out a gasp of pain from her.
“Don’t bother trying to explain, you lying little bitch.” Brandon’s words were soft and even, but Cindy froze at the quiet menace in them. “I’ve read the e-mails. All your complaints to your computer buddies about how I’m not forceful enough. How you’d just love to experiment with bondage but your boyfriend is just so, so vanilla. How you wish he’d spank you and hurt your titties.” He gave a short, harsh laugh. “I try to treat you like a queen and you don’t appreciate it. Let’s see how you like being treated the way you say you want.”
She felt a smooth, thick cord looping over her arms, tying them firmly behind her head. She tried to stand, but found he’d attached the cord to the chair. He laughed again at her attempt and spun her around in the chair to face him. There was no way to read his intent from his expression. His eyes held nothing but a cold glitter. He pushed her legs together and trussed them up as well as he talked.
“I’d noticed several months ago that you were starting to spend more and more time on the computer. At the same time, I noticed that your attitude towards me was changing. Almost a hint of contempt at times. I couldn’t think of anything I was doing that was different, and the only thing that had changed…was the amount of time you were on the computer. So I decided I’d see why.”
Casually, he took the hem of her thin tank top and pushed it up over her breasts, then stopped to survey his work. Though she still wore her shorts, Cindy felt horribly self-conscious. He’d seen her naked countless times, but there was something altogether different about this, as if she was nothing more than a doll to be posed. Seeing her expression, he laughed and roughly tweaked a big nipple, gouging a fingernail across it as he raked it away. Her eyes widened at the callous abuse. He had caused her more deliberate pain in thirty seconds than he had accidentally in their entire relationship.
“Your letters with your friends were very instructional, I must say. Not to mention all the things you told them you liked. Things that you scoffed at when we talked about them or saw pictures of them.”
He picked up a sheaf of paper and waved it under Cindy’s nose. Her eyes widened as she recognized the e-mail addresses printed on them. “I know you deleted quite a few of them, but you were kind enough to keep a number of the best. And since you were so upset about my lack of forcefulness, as it were, I decided I’d conduct a few forcible experiments.”
Leaning back against the desk, he pulled a piece of paper from the pile and scanned it, then gave her a slightly amused glance as he put it aside. “Ah, yes. One of the first. MasterChris. A fairly tame one to start with, I think.”
Picking up a clothespin, he pinched her nipple between his fingers, drawing it out long and flat until she winced and struggled slightly against her bonds. He had to have noticed, but he gave no sign that he had done so. As considerate as he usually was of her, it made him seem that much more of a stranger. She stared down at her stretched out nipple, at the clip waiting, jaws open, for her flesh. Fussily, he shifted the open clip from place to place, choosing just the right spot. Then, without warning, the clip snapped from his fingers, crushing her nipple.
“Oops, got away from me.” He didn’t sound at all sincere. “Let’s see if I can do better on the second one.”
The second one not only ‘slipped’ from his fingers, it caught a piece of her skin between the wood and the metal hinge. Cindy let out a muffled cry of pain. Carelessly, Brandon yanked it back.
“Silly me. Must be all those vanilla tendencies of mine that make me so inept with these things, don’t you say?” He snapped his fingers. “You know, I just remembered. I poured that coffee and completely forgot to bring it in.”
Cindy watched in horror as he strolled out, obviously in no rush to return. Unable to so much as shift position, she alternated watching the clock on the taskbar of her computer and watching her nipples puff up purple around the edges of the wooden clips. By the time he returned – some ten minutes later – her back felt as if it would break from the unnatural arch it had been forced into and her nipple tips were the reddish purple color of grapes.
She looked up at him imploringly, but he just released the rope that bound her wrists to the chair. “I decided I wanted to get something to eat, too. No sense in having the scenery wait in here when I could be enjoying it over breakfast.” He tapped another printed letter. “Remember Marten?”
Did she! Cindy had deleted many of Marten’s letters – he was a little too much into torture for her taste – but she suspected now that she hadn’t deleted enough.
Taking hold of her left elbow, he started pulling her roughly up from the chair. She stared at him in confusion. He hadn’t untied her legs. How did he expect her to get there?
As if in answer, he furled up the end of the rope around her and slapped her sharply across the bottom of her right tit, paying no attention when she jerked backward from the sting of the lash and whimpered in pain from both the blow and the clothespin as it bounced and tugged on her throbbing nipple.
When he pulled up on her elbow again, she all but leapt from the chair. Brandon pointed to the door. “The kitchen. Now. Move it.”
“Hop,” he ordered. “And really jump. I want to see those tits jiggling, and if I don’t….”
He left the rest unsaid, but Cindy had no trouble recalling some of Marten’s threats and started hopping for the door. Brandon watched as she slowly made her way from the computer room to the kitchen. For the first time in her life, Cindy wished she was a little smaller than a D cup. Her tits were pretty firm, but if she didn’t land hard enough to make them bounce enough for Brandon, he slapped the rope across her bottom. By the time she finally made it to the kitchen, her rear hurt almost as much as her nipples. Almost. Panting around the gag, she leaned against the counter and waited numbly while Brandon studied the letter in his hand.
As he read, he casually reached out and yanked the clips off her nipples. The blood-starved tissue stung and throbbed. Brandon kept reading, ignoring both her whimper of pain and her frantic attempts to try to rub away the hurt.
“Here it is,” he announced. “My idea of the perfect breakfast is to have my toy tied up and waiting for me, like a lovely, tortured present, while I enjoy my meal. Her pain is the best seasoning any food could have.”
Setting the letters down, he picked her up and dumped her unceremoniously on the breakfast bar, hard enough that her shirt fell back down over her breasts. He pushed her about until she was propped against the wall. Cindy stiffened as he pulled her wrists over her head, wrapping them tightly, then sliding the rope over a small hook she had once used for a plant.
He pulled her top back up and tweaked one plum-hued nipple, the surface tight and shiny from abuse, chuckling a little as she gasped.
“Look like grapes….all nice and juicy. Wonder if they’d pop if I twisted more? Just…break open.”
Cindy closed her eyes against the tears starting in them as he suited action to words. Just when she thought her nipple actually would do just that, he stopped. She sagged in relief against her bonds as he went to pop a couple of waffles into the toaster. While they heated, he folded his arms across his chest and studied her critically.
“That’s rather a plain position. Not nearly enough pain for there to be any ‘seasoning’.” He reached again for the letters and shuffled through them. Cindy strained to see which letter he was holding, but couldn’t make it out at that distance.
“Ah! Bruno.” He slanted an ironic look in her direction. “Better than Brutus, I suppose. Anyway, our pal Bruno said he really liked the ‘layered look’. Let’s give it a shot, shall we?”
After slapping the outside of her left breasts hard enough to leave a fading pink mark, laughing coldly as she cried out around her gag, he crossed the room and scooped up a bra she’d discarded the night before. When he walked back to her he closed a hand in a cruel grip beneath her left breast and yanked a cup beneath it. He repeated the process with the opposite breast, crushing grip and all, then snapped the hooks together in front, not bothering with the straps. Yanking the cups partially up her breasts, he studied the effect, then shook his head.
“Nope, I think we still need some more. Let’s see, what if we do this?”
Quickly, he untied the rope that was holding her wrists high. Once they were free from the pillar that had held them, he took his fork and lightly prodded at her right nipple, not hard enough to hurt much, but obvious for effect. "Now, being the limber little slut that you are, this shouldn't be difficult. I want you to loop your legs between your arms and put your hands behind your back."
Cindy stared at him for a moment, until he made a menacing jab at her breast, and then moved to comply. At one point, when she threatened to fall from the thin bar, he grabbed a healthy handful of her flesh, holding her steady and offering a little more painful enticement for her to finish. Once she was done, he wrapped more rope around her arms, locking them in place, and then went back to work on her throbbing breasts.
Hooking his thumbs beneath the underwires, he tugged the cups up over her breasts, finally settling the band just above them. All the lift the bra usually gave from below was now applied on the top. She couldn’t see the entire effect, but it was definitely uncomfortable. Taking the end of the rope, he twined it tightly around her ribcage, tugging it as tightly as if she was a horse and he was trying to saddle her, wrapping layer after layer in a kind of shelf. Once the rope crushed her breasts uncomfortably up against the bra, he looped it about her neck in a kind of halter.
The relief the support gave was short-lived when she realized that the tight rope around her chest allowed only for short, shallow breaths. If she struggled at all, she would very quickly be fighting to breathe. And suddenly Cindy would have given anything to be able to take a good belly-deep draught of air.
“That’ll do for now,” he said carelessly. “Don’t want breakfast to get cold, after all.”
Surely he wasn’t going to leave her like this! But to her dismay, he did just that, going into the kitchen and clattering around as if she wasn’t even there. Trying not to panic, she concentrated on taking short, shallow breaths. By the time he reappeared, plate in one hand and coffee in the other she had the panic attack under control.
“You know, that’s not doing nearly as much as I thought it would.” He reached out and poked experimentally at one breast. “Maybe a leaf from Shadolover’s book would work.”
Shadolover! The gag muffled Cindy’s groan of dismay. She’d stopped corresponding with Shadolover because the man constantly described scenes in which she was trussed up so tight she couldn’t think of anything to write as a response.
Brandon pulled a length of leather cord from his pocket and began wrapping it tightly around her right breast. “If I recall correctly, this was his favorite, right? Thin enough to really bite into the skin and burn..."
He yanked hard, forcing what breath Cindy had out in a squeal of pain. He tied the leather to the rope before moving over to her left side. "...but tough enough to hold no matter how tight I pull it."
After he looped the second breast even tighter than the first, Cindy stole a glance downward. From what she could see, the base of her breasts looked like the waist of a woman wearing an old-fashioned corset, and felt even worse.
“That’s better,” he said, and grinned. Cindy shook her head a little in disbelief. It wasn’t a grin she recognized. None of it was even a Brandon she recognized. Was this the guy she had actually claimed was ‘too vanilla to be believed’? She tried the most pathetic whimper she could manage around the gag, hoping that the gentle Brandon she knew would return and let her go.
But all he did was take a seat at the other end of the bar and begin eating, slowly, his attention equally divided between his waffles and her breasts. Cindy finally stopped trying to get his sympathy and just concentrated on breathing. With each breath, the leather seemed to tighten just a little more above and below her tits, squeezing them with painful slowness, making them red and round and tight like some bizarre forced ripening process.
When he finally stood up halfway through his meal, she nearly wept with relief. Surely he had finally seen that this was more than she could take! He swiped a finger through the syrup on his plate, rubbed it across one burgeoning nipple and leaned over, she thought, to lick it off. Instead, she felt his teeth biting deeply into the rim of the areola, digging in and scraping toward her nipple as if he were taking a bite of an apple.
Cindy shrieked, struggling as best she could to get away. Except there was no getting away. When he bit into her other breast he clamped his teeth together rather than dragging them, and she could feel he was deliberately grinding his teeth together, bringing the skin just short of tearing. She shrieked again, spitting a garble of curses out around her gag as tears filled her eyes. Brandon straightened and smirked.
“Curses, dear? But you told Bruno you would just love to have him enjoy your tits like that. ‘Blood oranges with breakfast’, I think you called it. Of course, I didn’t draw blood, like you told him you would really like. Don’t think the taste would go all that well with waffles.”
She glared at him, his face blurred through her tears. He pressed his fingers into the shining flesh and twisted her nipple viciously, causing a fresh surge of pain.
“There was also something else Shadolover suggested that I think will fit perfectly.” He pulled another leather thong from his pocket and waved it around. “I think he called this a cross weave, although I’m sure that’s not the right term.”
Deftly, he tied the jute to the cord already around her breasts and began weaving it in a criss-cross pattern across first one breast then the other. Cindy ground her teeth into the gag as he pulled it tight. She hadn’t thought her tits could be compressed down to that point! She could just see her nipples poking out from the weave of rough brown cord and in a few places, where puffs of her purpling breasts overflowed the webbing.
“That’ll do for now.” Brandon tugged, gently for a change, at her imprisoned nipples, pulling them out a bit farther. “You know, you really do have an attitude problem, dear. I’m going to have to insist that you finally realize that you’re not going to put out for every cyberstud going and not be prepared to do the same for me.” He pulled one more time. “Why don’t you just think about the error of your ways while I finish breakfast?”
She didn’t have any choice except to wait while he finished eating, but she didn’t reflect on her ‘errors’; she was trying desperately to recall what letters she’d deleted. Then she had a horrible suspicion. Brandon was much more computer-savvy than she was. What if he had been able to get at the deleted letters? The mere thought tightened her breath far more than the rope was doing.
Some of the people she’d exchanged letters with had started going into areas that she hadn’t really found appealing, but out of curiosity more than anything, she’d continued to exchange letters with them, just to see how far they would actually go. In some cases, it turned out that what they wanted wasn’t only beyond what she could see as erotic, but in a couple of cases, they had described things that downright scared her.
The clink of china against Formica interrupted her thoughts as Brandon set his plate aside. He studied her for a few moments, sipping at his coffee.
“So have you been thinking?”
She nodded, too apprehensive to even think of doing anything else.
“Good.” He sipped again, deliberately, swallowed. “I tell you what. Let’s see if this object lesson has really sunk in, shall we?”
To her intense relief, he began untying the cords and ropes around her breasts, unwinding them with an expertise she had not suspected he had. Her breath hissed around the gag as he began slowly massaging blood back into them. The areas where the cords had cut looked like a webwork of red against the livid purplish skin. He moved then to the ropes around her arms and legs, untying them. Finally, leaving her wrists firmly tied, he took hold of her arm and pulled her off the counter.
“We’re going to the living room,” he ordered.
Numbly, Cindy nodded and followed him, wobbling a little as she walked. She could have made a run for it, she supposed, but her muscles were trembling so with the reaction to the strain of the position she’d been in that it wasn’t worth trying, not to mention the fact that she desperately needed some time to recover from the oxygen debt. Besides, what would she tell people? That her boyfriend had done to her what she’d claimed to other people she wanted? She would get scant sympathy with that tale from anyone.
Brandon had read her letters and was clearly pissed, and to some degree, she couldn’t blame him; she’d been more than a little derogatory when she’d referred to his preferences. No, her best bet was to go along with what he wanted. He’d get over his revenge kick that much faster, and then they could talk and settle it all. Even if he had gotten some of the deleted e-mails, chances were that he wouldn’t use the suggestions. No matter how angry was, this was Brandon, and Brandon just didn’t go in for that sort of thing.
“Stop.”
Cindy looked down. The coffee table was moved from its usual place near the couch to the center of their living room. A dark blue nylon duffel bag sat nearby, a loop of white rope poking up from its zippered top. She glanced up curiously at Brandon, who pointed at the table.
“Get your hands back in front of you then lie down on your back... and keep your legs together.”
Cindy stepped through her arms easily this time then sat gingerly, not at all certain the table would take her weight. After getting a curt nod of encouragement, she slowly lay back until she was prone and rested her hands on her stomach. The smooth polished wood felt like ice to her bare back, and to her shock, she could feel her nipples hardening in response. That they were even capable of that after that binding surprised her. Maybe her correspondents weren’t as far off the mark as she’d thought about how resilient a woman’s breasts could be.
Brandon moved into her field of vision, a loop of rope twined around his long fingers. “Arms back.”
Cindy obeyed, her unease growing as he lashed her wrists securely over her head. Passing the rope under the table, he brought it up and around her chest beneath her breasts, wrapping it several times. After making certain she was held firm, he began twining it in a precise ‘x’ between and over her breasts. While the binding wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as the previous one, she was uncomfortably aware that she was effectively immobilized, her breasts framed and emphasized by the cord. Dropping the rope, Brandon straddled her waist and stared down at her.
“Doing well so far,” he murmured. She watched, tense and wary, as he lightly settled his hands over her breasts. She expected pain; instead, he gave her pleasure, butterfly-light caresses of his fingertips over the smoothly curved sides. Catching her nipples almost playfully between his fingers, he pulled at them, but gently, teasingly, a lover’s touch. She could feel her nipples tighten more in response and arched her back to rub them against the slight roughness of his palms. Maybe if she teased him enough, he would simply take advantage of the position.
Involved in trying to seduce him, she barely noticed that only his right hand was playing with her now. He seemed to be pulling a little harder on her nipple, but it felt great. Wonderful, in fact. She hadn’t realized how sensitive a little bit of torture could make her…
Without warning, a silver flash of stinging pain shot through her nipple. She stared at him, uncomprehending as he wrenched his right hand and the pain increased. The corners of his eyes crinkled a little as he smiled.
“Do you remember Stormrage?” he inquired. “I believe his appetites ran more towards piercing, but I thought this would do. I must say you wear it well.”
The stinging subsided some as Cindy craned her neck to see, and froze. A thin but long needle was thrust completely through the nub of her nipple, the sharp point brushing against the rubbled tightness of her areola. It looked much worse than it felt, really, no worse than a than the needlesticks she'd received prepping her for fixing a couple of nasty cuts during her tomboy years. She stared down at the throbbing nub of flesh and wondered at it and its almost rock-hard surroundings.
“I have to admit, Stormrage was one of the more creative ones. I particularly liked his idea of training your nipples to take some weight…piercing them with gold loops, then adding just a bit more weight each week. I went ahead and got some I thought would be suitable. See?” Reaching down, he brought out a gold loop the size of a quarter. Even from that distance, Cindy had no trouble seeing just how much thicker the wire was compared to the thin needle poking through her nipple. She also remembered that Stormrage absolutely forbid any form of anesthetic to be used on the people he pierced. Even though she knew it would do her no good with Brandon at this point, she couldn’t help but whimper at the thought.
“What, that idea doesn’t please you? Poor Stormrage. At least he’ll never know you lied to him. Tell you what, show me how much you like this, and I won’t pierce your nipple. But you’d best be good.”
His fingers tightened on the end of the needle and began rolling it. Pain shot through her nipple as the smooth needle turned inside it. After one stomach-turning glance, Cindy kept her gaze fixed firmly on Brandon’s face, too afraid of what she might do if she had to watch. Fortunately, he didn’t make her. After admiring the view for a moment, he nodded as if in approval and pulled the needle out. To her surprise, only a tiny pinprick of blood showed.
“Not bad,” he allowed. His fingers teased at her again. Despite the pain – or perhaps because of it? – Cindy squirmed a bit, suddenly aware that she was incredibly wet. “Would you like to stop now?”
Cindy actually thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
She gasped as he pulled at her pierced nipple just a bit harder than was comfortable. “Well, I don’t,” he informed her with unmistakable satisfaction. “And I’ve an idea of my own I’m going to try.”
Tense and quivering, Cindy watched as he took the leather cord and began wrapping her breasts again, circling one, then the other. Unlike his last binding, this pattern seemed designed to make her nipples more engorged. It worked, too; by the time he was finished, she could see that her nipples had flattened, becoming shiny and taut even as her breasts began to swell and redden. After a few minutes, they felt incredibly full and she could see that her nipples were spread out flat and smooth, with not a bit of flesh to spare.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered. “I want your honest reaction on this.”
Reluctantly, Cindy did so, all but holding her breath as she waited for what he would do. She felt a firm tug at the tip of her tight breast and a kiss of cold metal against her hot nipple, then sudden, tight pressure. Her spirits rose. It wasn’t great, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as his scoring teeth or the rolling needle had been. Moments later, her second nipple was subjected to the same treatment, and a tom-tom beat had begun throbbing through them.
“Now, look.”
Slowly, Cindy opened her eyes, then widening them in apprehension as she saw the clover clamps sticking straight up from her nipples. A thin chain connected the two, curving in a smooth arc between the clamps.
“I’d read about these a few years ago,” he said, hooking his fingers around the chain. “Interesting. Did you know they started as sewing clamps? And then, of course, people decided to get creative.” He gave a light tug at the chain. Cindy uttered a muffled cry and tried instinctively to pull back. As she did, she could feel the pressure of the clamps grinding down on her nipples until she could have sworn they were ready to rub right through the skin.
“I’m rather surprised you did that. Surely one of your playmates would have told you that pulling makes them tighter. No? Well, now you know.” He sat on the edge of the table, making no move to remove the clamps. “Tell me, Cindy, am I going to have to put up with your attitude again?”