In between feeding me, he played with the nipple clamps. Sometimes, he would lightly bump one as if by accident, but I knew he never did anything accidental. Other times, he would brazenly tug the chain or flick the skin around a clamp. No matter what he did, though, the end effect remained the same. By the end of lunch, I was a trembling mass of need.
At his command, I waited until he stood before rising to my feet before him. I dropped my head and waited for further instruction.
After removing the clamps, he tied my upper arms behind my back with a soft rope. “Move to the table,” he said.
I spent the short walk to the table doing my best not to think ahead. Instead, I tried to focus on doing what he told me to do, not trying to anticipate or guess his next plan. It took a few minutes to work my way onto the table, what with my arms behind my back and all.
When I’d managed to get onto the table, in what had to be one of the most graceless moments of my life ever, he positioned me on my stomach so my lower body rested on a padded wedge and propped my upper body up with pillows.
I heard him walk away only to return seconds later. His hands worked their way around and fastened a blindfold around my head. I felt a fleeting moment of panic, but calmed when he stroked my hair.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, Master.”
“Yellow or red if you need me to slow down or stop,” he said, still caressing my hair. “I have a few more things to do in preparation. Relax.”
His voice was low but held his normal no-nonsense tone. Between that and his hands making their way down my neck, across my shoulders, and tapping lightly along my spine, I felt myself yield.
“Lovely,” he said, hands never leaving my body.
I realized after a bit that the preparations he mentioned had to do with me. I was what he was preparing.
Gah.
My suspicion was confirmed when he took one of my arms and tied a rope to my wrist. I shifted slightly on the table.
His hand came down across my bottom in a hard slap. “I didn’t tell you to move.”
I held perfectly still as he tied another rope to my opposite wrist. His hands moved lower and massaged my waist, his strong fingers kneading my lower back. I relaxed further.
My lower body was already exposed to him, but he took my left ankle and tied it to my left wrist; then he repeated the action with my right ankle and right wrist, exposing me even further. I felt helpless.
“Beautiful,” he said.
I didn’t feel particularly beautiful. I felt helpless and awkward.
The sound of a camera clicking behind me made me jump.
“Just because you might not believe me,” he said. I heard his footsteps as he walked around me. Again the camera clicked.
Holy fuck. He was taking pictures of me.
“Just look at this,” he said, slipping a finger into me briefly. “I think you rather like the idea of me taking pictorial proof of your beauty.”
He moved closer to my head and tsked. “But look at this. My fingers are all messy again.”
Said fingers brushed my lips, so I opened my mouth and cleaned them off. He was right; the thought of him taking pictures did turn me on, especially bound the way I was.
“Look at you. All spread out, waiting for me.” His fingers skimmed my entrance. “Just think about all the things I could do to you.”
He swirled his fingers around my clit. “The things I could do here.” He thrust two fingers deep inside me, and my body shifted. I moaned as my aching nipples rubbed against the pillow in the most agonizingly delicious way.
He chuckled.
“Or here.” He moved his fingers and they teased my other entrance. I sucked in a breath.
Oh, yes. Again. I want him to consume me again.
I let out a whimper when he spread the warm lube on me.
“So needy,” he said. Some sort of plug slowly circled where he’d prepared me. “Remember?” he asked. “Paul and Christine?”
I searched my mind, trying to decide what he meant.
“How you wondered what it felt like?” He pushed, gradually inserting the plug into me.
I was stretched.
Stretched and open and exposed and waiting.
He delivered a hard smack to my backside.
“Remember now?” he asked.
Oh, yes.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, Master.”
His hands were gentle again, teasing me, running along my slit. They slowly grew rougher and pinched my outer lips. Then he spanked me again. He alternated, spanking and teasing, until it became hard for me to tell what was pain and what was pleasure. Under his hands, they combined.
Something hard and leather pressed against me. A leather strap? He ran it up and down, playfully slapped it against my clit and brought it down hard against the flesh of my backside.
I groaned.
“Like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” I half said, half moaned.
The strap came down harder and hit right where the plug was.
Dear, sweet heavens.
“Yes, what?” he asked.
“Oh, God,” I panted. “Yes, Master.”
He struck me again. “Better.”
The leather gently tapped my growing, aching need, and his fingers once more circled my clit. I felt as if I was balanced precariously on something and almost fell completely when he brought the strap down hard. Harder.
I didn’t want it to ever end. For a while, it felt as if it wouldn’t.
The plug inside me. His fingers teasing me. And the strap, how it somehow brought both of them together in a mixture of pain-touched pleasure.
“I’m going to take you like this,” he finally said, his breathing heavy. “Filled as you are. Nice and spread out.”
I heard the sound of a zipper and felt a rush of air. He steadied his hands on my hips, and with one hard, deep thrust, he buried himself inside me. I yelped. The sensation was incredible: filled by both him and the plug. Stretched and pulled and bound, I wondered how much my sensitive skin and teased body could stand.
“Come when you want,” he panted.
He pulled out again and again and filled me over and over. Slowly and deeply, he took me. His thrusts were controlled, measured. I was balancing again and wanted to hold on to how I felt.
My body shook with impending release, my muscles tight and tense. He moved faster behind me. Moved faster inside me. I clenched my fists as he entered me, as he thrust and hit the plug. Again.
I was . . .
I was . . .
Screaming my release.
I felt weightless.
Or heavy.
Yes, that was it. I was too heavy to move and my body couldn’t hold me. A faint tremor shot through me.
Residual effects of my massive orgasm, I decided.
His hands caressed me as he untied me, his voice soft and low. I couldn’t make out what he said, but it didn’t matter. He was there. My limbs were loose and untangled, but he was gentle.
He removed the blindfold. The playroom was dark.
“Relax,” he said. “Rest now.”
His lips touched mine once in tender affection before my eyes closed.
Chapter Nineteen
—NATHANIEL—
I held her while she slept.
I’d carried her from the playroom to our bedroom, where I wrapped her in blankets and stroked her hair. Our day had been longer and more intense than ever, and I wasn’t sure how she would react. I did, however, expect her to sleep afterward and knew she’d be sore the next day. When she woke, we would spend some time in the hot tub, relaxing and soothing her muscles.