And that was the point, I realized. To get me to the edge. To make it difficult to hold back. To make me struggle in bondage to my own body.
“Keep going. Just like that,” Monsieur purred into my ear. “Are you going to come, Sophie?”
“I will soon, Monsieur.” My every breath brought me closer, as though the very oxygen in my blood conspired against me. “I want...I want...”
“You want nothing,” Monsieur reminded me, his tone sharp. “I want. Sir wants. You’re nothing but our plaything.”
“Yes, Monsieur. I’m sorry, Monsieur.”
“Take your hand away,” he ordered. “You think that because I am not as cruel to you as your Sir that you can speak out of turn?”
“No, Monsieur,” I whispered.
“Speak up!”
“No, Monsieur!” I cried out.
He was silent for a long while. The brush of Sir’s shirt against my arm startled me. How had nothing else alerted me to his return?
My heart pounded. This was their plan. To distract me. To keep me from knowing what would come next, from where, and how.
To frighten me.
My pussy clenched. I loved being scared of them, knowing that the scare was purely voluntary and that I could stop at any time.
Sir’s fingers shoved something rough into my mouth, and I recognized from experience that it was my panties.
“Since you can’t answer me the first time I ask a question, you needn’t speak at all,” Monsieur admonished me. “Perhaps I shouldn’t give you your gift.”
I kept my head bowed.
“But I wouldn’t deny myself,” he went on. “Sir, would you give her my gift?”
Sir roughly grasped my wrists and forced them behind my back. Something closed around them, smooth and cold, covering me to mid-forearm. Cuffs, lined in what felt like leather.
“I hope you like them. I can’t wait for you to see them,” Monsieur said as Sir pulled my arms up painfully. He walked me backward a few steps and bent me slightly forward until I was almost on my toes in my high heels. So, it would be strappado, then. Easily my least favorite bondage position.
“She doesn’t like this one,” Sir said, and I heard him chuckle over the earbuds.
“And that’s why you love it,” Monsieur replied.
Sir hooked the cuffs to the frame, leaving me dangling by my wrists, my arms extended painfully behind me. A moment later, I felt the rigid spreader bar between my legs, the straps closing around my ankles. The position left me fully exposed, my feet apart for balance, my upper body tilted forward, my ass thrust back.
“He has a plug for you,” Monsieur informed me, just as the tip of something brushed my ass and left behind a sticky smear of lube. Sir pushed hard, and I shouted as the instrument stretched me. Though I couldn’t see him, I could hear the smile in Monsieur’s voice as he said, “Oh, it is...substantial.”
That was an understatement. The plug opened me wider and wider as Sir firmly, quickly shoved it inside me. It was larger than any I could remember owning. I wondered if they’d bought it just for this. The pain was intense, and though I gritted my teeth against it, I did cry out through my gag. This wasn’t the fun kind of sexy pain. It hurt.
I loved it.
Finally, the instrument of my torture was fully inside, my hole grasping the thinner neck of it. Then, Sir began to pull it out again, and I screamed. But there was nowhere I could go. I couldn’t pull away, and I wouldn’t have if it had been possible, because I would be punished. My toes curled in my shoes, and I sobbed against the gag of my panties. There was no gentle taper this time as the plug widened me; the cruelest part came first. Sir didn’t take it out all the way, just enough for a cold shiver of relief to run down my spine before he forced it back in. He did this again and again, and no matter how I tried to relax through it, by the time he finally brought it to rest inside me, I was screaming on every thrust.
“You should be grateful,” Monsieur admonished me. “He’s being kind. It was my idea to do what comes next without any preparation at all.”
Sir stepped away from me, raising his voice to be heard over the headphones. “And here I thought you enjoyed pain, Sophie. Perhaps I’ve gone too easy on you, lately.”
He had, he was right. Knowing I would receive that intense level of pain I’d been missing, that I’d only been getting a taste of through some light spanking and paddling in Monsieur’s absence, made me shudder more than any physical sensation had so far.
“We’ll remedy that,” Monsieur promised. “Right now.”
Sir’s fingers closed over my nipple, and this time, he wasn’t gentle. He pinched and squeezed, digging his fingernails into the sensitive flesh. Then, a sharper, colder pinch settled over the hard nub and stayed, worsening by increments. The chain from the clamp he’d just placed brushed my sternum as he repeated the treatment on the other side, and weight dangled from another length of chain between them.
Oh god. Oh no.
Neil parted my labia with one finger, exposing my throbbing clit.
“Please no, please no, please no,” I repeated behind the gag, my heart hammering my ribs. But my libido screamed, yes, please, please yes.
Luckily, my pleas were made incomprehensible by the panties stuffed in my mouth, or else there would have been consequences. The clamp closed over me; I bucked my hips and screamed.
“Hush, my love,” Monsieur tried to soothe me over the sound of my frantic cries. “The pressure will pass.”
I knew he was right. I’d worn clamps dozens of times before, and the initial pinch did ease, as it was doing now. But my clit still pulsed painfully. Tears leaked down my face from beneath the blindfold.
“Because we can’t keep you in this position for long,” Monsieur went on, “we don’t have time to tease you the way I would like.”
Something metal scraped across the floor.
“One day, I will tie you down. Arms and legs spread wide. I would keep you there for hours, amusing myself with every part of your body for as long as I like.” Monsieur’s words lit a renewed fire in me, covering my pain with desire. “Using every bit of you. Fucking you until you beg me to stop. I would fill every hole, Sophie. Come in every single one. Would you like that?”
I nodded frantically, my mind filling with the mental image of lying, my body used completely, covered in hours and hours of sweat and cum.
I recognized the shape of the round, ball-like head of a wand vibrator against my defenseless clit. Sir walked around me, so I knew he’d positioned the vibrator on a stand. Which meant it would stay in place until he saw fit to move it. He pulled on the plug again, giving it a few twists and in and out. My body barely protested now, stretched as it was and so focused on the intense throbbing in my clit and nipples.
“Are you ready to be fucked, Sophie?” Monsieur asked, and I realized he didn’t mean my cunt.
I hesitated.
Sir leaned close to my ear. “You’re ready when we say you’re ready.”
A lube applicator glided smoothly into my ass, filling me with the cold, slippery substance. Though I appreciated the consideration, that part always made me feel dirty and humiliated. It was so clinical and so private. When Sir withdrew it, he replaced it with another. And then another. Until it dripped from my hole and forced an embarrassed sob from my lips.
“Oh, I hope you’re ready,” Monsieur laughed, and what touched me wasn’t Sir’s cock, as I had expected. It was a toy of some kind. And it was big. Bigger than Sir.
I was definitely not ready when it forced inside me. Whatever it was, it felt like it would tear me in two, despite the lube and the preparation from the plug. It went deep, stealing my breath away with the agony of the intrusion. I screamed and thrashed, and Sir’s hand fell to my back.
Monsieur’s voice filled my ears over the thrum of my rapid pulse. “I would advise you not to move.”
The muted, yet unmistakable sound of one of our fucking machines caused my chest to tighten with d
read and my cunt to flutter in anticipation. I didn’t want to be fucked by whatever this huge thing was. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to feel this unrelenting agony. I didn’t want it ever to end.
Then, Sir turned the machine on. And it couldn’t end soon enough.
“I’m taking the panties out of your mouth so we can hear you scream, Sophie,” Sir said. I didn’t disappoint. The machine pounded into me, far more violently than any human could have. I knew the risk of trying to twist away; I would not only fall, but I could injure myself on the machine. Though I trusted Sir to do everything in his power to keep me from getting hurt, accidents did sometimes happen. I fought my urge to get away, fought the pain, a war waging inside me.
Then the vibrator turned on.
“Please, please, please,” I shouted until my throat was nearly raw. But there was nothing I could do. I came almost immediately.
A cold squirt of lube between my cheeks preceded the machine speeding up. It was too fast, too much, too deep, stimulating the internal structure of my clit from deep inside my pelvis while the vibrator tormented the external part. If it weren’t for the sparks of cold and the sweat standing out on my skin, I would burn up.
Those sparks from deep inside me came faster and faster now, as quickly as the inhuman strokes from the machine.
Sir popped the earbuds from my ears. “Do you like this, Sophie?”
“No!” escaped my lips before I could stop it.
He slapped me hard. “Don’t lie to us, slut!”
“I’m sorry, Sir! Monsieur!” I shouted, my words punctuated by gasps of pain. “I lied to you! I’m sorry, I’m...I’m...” The bolts of pain from the machine fucking my ass finally merged with the pleasure I felt deep in my pelvis. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”
And coming. And coming. My thighs shook. I was in danger of losing my balance. Sir knew it, but rather than unbinding me, he steadied me with his body. “We’re not finished, Sophie.”
“Turn it up,” Monsieur said, breathless.
“Please no, please no, please no,” I whimpered to myself and got another, harder slap.
“We’ll use you as we please, and you’ll be grateful for it!” Sir cranked the speed up higher and flipped the switch on the vibrator to its highest setting.
“Say thank you, Sophie,” Monsieur commanded.
Somehow, I found my way through the haze of endless orgasms and cruel pain to gasp, “Thank you, Monsieur! Thank you, Sir!”
How could my body withstand anymore? I couldn’t imagine ever recovering, and I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop coming. But I had to. I had to, or it would never end. I would be trapped in this beautiful, sublime moment of pure torturous pleasure forever.
I gave myself up to it wholly.
“Do you want it to stop, Sophie?” Sir asked.
For some reason, I answered, “Yes.”
“Beg us.”
“Please, Sir, Monsieur. Please!”
“Please what?” Monsieur asked.
“Please stop fucking my ass,” I sobbed. “Please stop making me come. Make it all stop!”
“Do you need to use your word?” Sir asked.
I shook my head. I knew my word. I knew “red” would end it all.
But I didn’t want it to end yet.
“I don’t find her begging all that convincing,” Sir said, tugging on the chain connecting the clamps on my nipples and painfully sensitive clit. I moaned, my feet curling in my pumps. “Are you coming again, Sophie?”
“Yes, Sir!”
He jerked the chain, snapping the clamps completely off.
God, I hoped soundproofing had been part of the remodel. Nothing had ever been so brutal, so cruel. Blood rushed back to those sensitive points with a vengeance, awakening pain and heightened sensation. The upward rush toward climax lengthened like a hallway in a scary movie. The closer I got, the further it seemed.
I reached the breaking point and seemingly became stranded there. I was coming. I couldn’t stop coming. I would never stop.
I hung there in my predicament, crying, sobbing, drooling, for what felt like an eternity. It couldn’t have been; Sir would never leave me in strappado long enough to do damage, and he would stop short of causing me any physical harm with the machine. Still, seconds felt like days of sublime pain, wetness coursing down my thighs from my empty cunt, until he finally turned off the vibrator and the machine. He eased the dildo from my body, then held me steady as he released me from the frame and spreader bar and separated the cuffs so I could move my arms again. But he didn’t remove the blindfold.
“Sophie, can you stand on your own?” Monsieur asked gently.
I nodded. “Oui, Monsieur.”
“Stay there,” Sir ordered, and I did, on legs that felt as though they would disintegrate from trembling so hard. My sweat-slick body chilled as my breathing and pulse slowed. There was another scrape of metal, and I realized that if they’d planned any more mechanical fun, I would have to safeword because I was done.
Sir pulled the blindfold from my eyes. He’d positioned a large, oval mirror with a gilded scrollwork frame directly in front of me. The mirror and I had a history; Sir sometimes made me look myself in the eyes while I came. It knew me intimately, in a way I almost couldn’t bear.
“What do you see, Sophie?” Sir asked me, his hand firm on the back of my neck.
“A...I see your whore, Sir,” I said, my voice faltering.
“Not what you think we want to hear, Sophie.” Monsieur’s voice was soft and comforting. This was not a trick. This was not a game.
I gazed at myself a moment. What I saw was a woman whose face wasn’t as full and innocent as it had been a decade before. Who had cellulite on her thighs and the hint of a varicose vein. I wasn’t girlish anymore. I was...a grown woman.
How had I not realized how much that had been bothering me?
“Sophie?” Sir prompted.
“I see a woman. Who is getting older. And who isn’t sure how it’s going to work if she’s not...” My throat tightened, cutting off my words. I knew what I wanted to say, what I meant to say.
So, say that.
I cleared my throat. “She isn’t sure how this is going to work if she’s not the desirable twenty-something her Sir and Monsieur liked before.”
Sir stepped in front of me, his strong hands cupping my jaw. His deep green eyes met mine and held me there as surely as he could hold me with his body. “It’s going to work because we love you. Don’t ever doubt that again.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.
“Sophie, will you look at your cuffs?” Monsieur asked. “I had them made for you.”
I glanced down at the bands of gleaming platinum circling my wrists. Black leather padding protected my skin from the rolled metal edges. The gleaming surface was broken by an inscription repeated on each.
Property Of El-Mudad ibn Farid ibn Abdel Ati.
“Happy birthday, my love,” he said, his smile sad when I glanced up at the screen.
“We will always want you,” Sir promised. Then, almost teasing in his threat, “Don’t make us prove it to you. Just believe us.”
“I wish you were here, Monsieur.” Tears came, hard.
“Oh, my love, I wish I were there, as well,” he said with a broken-hearted laugh.
Sir put his arm around my shoulders. “I think it’s time for some aftercare, so she doesn’t drop. We’ll call in a little while.”
“I think that would be best,” Monsieur agreed.
Before he led me from the room, Sir turned off the television and the camera. I leaned heavily against his side, and he supported me until we got to the bathroom. He sat me on the stone bench in the shower and turned on the taps.
“Oh, your cuffs!” he exclaimed, going full Neil in a split second. He quickly popped the latches and carried the cuffs out of the range of the rainfall spray in the center of the room.
As if they were the last link I had to my Monsieur, the final touch I
would ever have, my chest felt as though it would collapse when they were gone. My arms felt wrong without them. I wept miserably.
“My...my collar,” I remembered suddenly, and with a pang of guilt. How could I have forgotten what my Sir had given me, and before Monsieur’s gift? I cried harder at that, fumbling frantically to release the clasp.
“Sophie, you’re all right,” Sir stated confidently, and I had to believe him. I stopped fighting with the collar and let him unfasten it. When he stepped away to put it with the cuffs, I took my hair down, still sobbing. I wanted Monsieur. I wanted El-Mudad. I wanted—
Sir sat beside me on the bench. “Tell me what you need, Sophie.”
“I...” I hiccupped back a sob. “I need Neil.”
“Oh, darling.” He took me into his arms and cradled my head against his shoulder. “We never wanted you to feel like this.”
“I don’t know how I feel,” I admitted. “I think I’m...I think I’m overwhelmed? With how loved you guys just made me feel, and how much I want El-Mudad here with us. Those two things are hard when they’re hitting me altogether.”
“Well, I’m glad we overwhelmed you with love, at least.” Neil kissed the top of my head. “Though perhaps not this much.”
That made me laugh a little through my tears.
“Come on.” He helped me to my feet and walked me under the rainfall shower, still fully dressed.
“Your shoes!” I gasped, watching the water make transparent streaks down his shirt.
And then he shrugged. The man who had installed a special temperature control system in his dedicated shoe closet shrugged about the destruction of a pair probably worth the down payment on a house.
The hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth, and he took one of my hands in his, swaying us on our feet in a stationary dance. “We do love you.”
“More than I love myself.” I hung my head. “I’m so sorry. I ruined your birthday present.”
“Did you enjoy the bits before the crying?” he asked.
“Before the subdrop crying?” I wished I could rewind a little and redo that part. “Fuck yes, I did. That was...incredible. But you didn’t get to come.”
The Boyfriend Page 4