He lifted one of the pins to her breast and squeezed that nipple hard with the other hand. He opened the clothespin and let it close again without quite making contact through the cloth. She took a deep breath. It would all happen on his time, not hers. That was what he was trying to tell her.
To think that earlier I was thinking he was too gentle. That things weren’t intense enough. This is intense.
Then he closed the pin on her tender peak, and she moaned. That was a lot more intense. It fucking hurt.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy. Breathe. It gets easier to take after a few moments.”
She nodded. She could feel what he was talking about already. It still hurt, but she could appreciate it more. It focused her on that one part of her body, and she could feel a connection running through her breast and heading straight to her pussy. It might hurt, but it was sexy as hell. She looked down and saw the pin sticking out obscenely. She knew it would look better with two. She wondered if she should ask, or if that would be taking away from his authority. She decided to close her eyes and feel.
He moved his hands to her other breast. She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to have to ask. A moment later she felt the pin close over her other nipple and squeeze it tightly. She moaned again, but this time it was more pleasurable. She knew what to expect better.
She wondered if she was going to be dripping on the sheet before he was done. God, her pussy was wet. Surely that wasn’t the reason why the sheet was there, was it? Then again, he did have an ego. Maybe he thought he could make her that much of a mess all along. Maybe he was right.
She sneaked a peek down and saw both pins jutting out. The fabric of the T-shirt was bunched around her nipples, and the clothespins held them in place. She imagined the clamping would be more intense without the fabric in the way.
“See what I mean? You get used to it, don’t you?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Aren’t they beautiful?”
She didn’t know whether he was referring to her tits or the clothespins. There was something indecent about having plastic clips sticking off her tits, though. But she had to agree. “Yes, Master.”
“I want to make you living art.”
She sometimes imagined the Goddess thought her beautiful. But art? His gaze was full of appreciation. For that look, she would go through hell itself. “Yes, Master,” she said. It got easier each time she said it. She found herself sinking into the words, wanting to say them again and again. I’m yours. I love you.
She knew she’d have to find a time to say it.
“Fortunately, there are things I can do once you’re used to them.” He flicked a clip with his finger.
She moaned again, despite trying not to. The pin wobbled before coming to rest again. He set the other one in motion. Her nipples throbbed.
He pulled a clip downward and then let it spring back up. She whimpered. It was so intense. It hurt. She ought to want it to stop. But she didn’t. She bounced her shoulders, making her tits shake, so she could feel the clothespin jiggle.
“You like that, do you?”
She hated to admit it. “Yes, Master.” She blushed. She’d always wished she wasn’t a blusher, but especially now. His gaze flicked between her tits and her face, and she knew he could see every trace of pink and every change in expression.
He moved his hands away. She wasn’t sure she wanted the respite, but she relaxed. Maybe he’d decided she’d taken as much as she could take. She was relieved. She’d passed a test.
He reached into the bag and pulled out a short riding crop with a broad flap on the end. Her eyes widened. On the one hand, it was small, not nearly as threatening as a full-size one. On the other hand, he clearly hadn’t decided she’d taken as much as she could take.
He tapped her right breast above the peak. Then below. Gentle taps, not even painful, but enough to make a few sparks as the clip wiggled in response.
Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.
He tapped one of the clothespins with the flapper of the crop, and that renewed the ache. Tap tap tap. She couldn’t hold back a noise. She wanted something against her pussy, something to balance out the sensations she was getting up top. She wiggled, even though there was no good way to get friction.
“Stay still,” he ordered.
She froze.
“I told you. This is about your breasts. About the pleasure they can give us. About a little pain too.” Tap tap tap. “I’ll be taking the pins off in a while when I decide you’re ready. Two things you should know, though.” He spoke calmly, as if reminding her that she was the one with the clothespins on her tits, whereas he was perfectly comfortable. She didn’t need the reminder.
“Bastard.”
She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. She wondered if he’d punish her for it. Instead he chuckled.
“I’ll only be telling you the two things to make you anticipate. To make you more nervous. I find your anticipation to be erotic. And I can tell that you’re very turned on. Your skin is flushed. I can smell your arousal too. Your pussy is very wet, isn’t it?”
She blushed harder. She didn’t want him to be able to smell her. It was too embarrassing. But he was right. The anticipation and even the embarrassment turned her on even more. “Yes, Master.”
“Do you want to hear the two things?”
She wondered if it was a real choice. But she did, and she couldn’t give him less than her honesty. “Please.”
He smiled. “The first is that they hurt more coming off than they do going on. Once they’ve been on for a while, anyway.”
She knew that from her own experiments. There was always that tension, the desire to keep them on to avoid that pain at the end, combined with the knowledge that the pain would be worse the more she waited. And they had to come off sometime. She nodded. This time, though, she wasn’t in control of where the tipping point was. That was ten times worse and a hundred times more exciting.
“The other thing is…” He paused, as if distracted while he flicked the crop against first one clip, and then the other. He wasn’t swinging it hard but it was definitely intense. And she knew full well the pause was to make sure she felt it. “I’m not going to just take them off. I’m going to whack them off with my little crop here.”
Holy shit. She stared at him.
He smiled sweetly back.
This, she thought suddenly, would be a bad time to say I love you. She giggled, not able to help it in spite of the fact she knew it was the worst possible response. Possibly because of that. She’d always had a hard time keeping a straight face at the most serious of times.
It didn’t seem to faze him. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I love you,” she said, because good timing or not, she didn’t want to hold back any longer or be anything but fully truthful to him.
That made him blink. “I love you too.” He said it with a sense of wonder that made her glow inside. Did he not realize how lovable he was?
She grinned.
His face turned serious. “But I’m still going to hit those clothespins off. And it’s still going to hurt. And you’re still going to take it. For me.”
“Yes, Master.” She wouldn’t have it any other way.
He lifted her skirt and slipped his hand into her panties. She spread her legs wider when she realized what he was doing. Even with the clips on her nipples, it only took two strokes for all the sensations she was feeling to be concentrated in her clit. He rubbed around it in soft circles. She closed her eyes and took in the sensation.
Then there was a whoosh, and the sound of crop hitting plastic, and a sudden sting in her nipple that made her squeak. Her eyes jolted open in time to see the crop tap the other clothespin, while the one he’d knocked off skittered across the sheet as if it were alive. Then he brought the crop down swiftly, and the other one flew off. She let out a shriek and reached for his shoulder to steady herself.
God, that’s inte
nse.
He continued to stroke her, bringing her closer to the edge. She felt as if her core were wound up, waiting to explosively uncurl. She was pretty sure it would be the best orgasm she ever had. The pain had turned her on so much. That was twisted, but it was the way she was.
The way the Goddess made me.
Then he withdrew his hand.
“Please,” she whimpered. She wanted to come so badly it hurt. Her pussy ached. Not, admittedly, as badly as her breasts did.
“We’re not done yet.”
“I’m so close.”
“Yes, I know. But you’re not in control. I am.”
She nodded and let him hold her. Being denied an orgasm had never been one of her fantasies. But it was now. She’d always assumed when women didn’t come, it was because the man wasn’t willing to put in the work, wasn’t interested, or wasn’t skilled. That wasn’t the case with him. He was taking the power that she’d always wanted to give. She’d been waiting to find someone worthy.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too. And I’ll take good care of you.”
She tried to rein in her curiosity but failed. “What’s next, Master?”
He chuckled. “I’m going to play with your breasts.”
“More?”
“As much as I wish.”
She closed her eyes. Hopefully, he had something in mind that didn’t involve torturing her nipples, because they were close to done. What was that safe word again? “Cheesecake.”
Fuck, did I say that aloud?
“Yes, Marisa. Talk to me.” His voice was calm, controlled.
“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to say it! I was reminding myself what it was. Can we, um, ignore that, please?” She didn’t want to stop. Partly because she still wanted that orgasm. But mostly because she was where she needed to be after so long being dependent only on herself.
“Of course.” He smiled, still unruffled. “I don’t think you’ll need it, Marisa. But I’m glad you remember what it is, and please do use it if you need to.”
She smiled and nodded. A wash of peace came over her. He hadn’t been upset. He hadn’t questioned her use of the word. She didn’t have to worry about him going away no matter when she had to say it. “Yes, Master. May I keep you?”
“Yes.”
He let go of her and helped her to her feet. She moved her hands behind her back as she had them before.
“Lift your hands for a moment, love. I want to take your shirt off.”
She smiled and lifted them. He pulled her shirt over her head and then took hold of her wrists, putting her hands back into position behind her. Then he took off her skirt and her panties.
“The bra might be useful for what I have in mind, but it’s possible it will get damaged too. Is it replaceable?”
She didn’t know what would damage her bra, but he could rip all her clothes off as far she was concerned at this point. “Yes.”
“Good. Kneel, please.”
She knelt.
He grinned. “Now we play with rope.”
NOLAN HAD BEEN tempted to make her come and stop right there. Or to fuck her right there on the floor. His cock was more than hard enough and aching. He’d gotten what he wanted, after all, from her very own lips. “Master.” “I love you.”
God, he loved her too.
But he wasn’t the roll-over-and-go-to-sleep-after type, not when he was healthy, and he wasn’t going to stop his plans because he’d extracted the words from her. In fact, he wasn’t going to stop loving her ever, as long as she let him. He had a plan, and he knew she’d seen the rope. He wasn’t going to let her think her responses controlled when the scene ended, even though of course sometimes they would. He knew now that she needed him exactly as he was. She wanted and needed a dom. Fortunately for him, that’s what he was.
He took out a short length of rope and moved behind her. She had one wrist clasped in the other hand, which was a good way for her to keep them behind her. She’d almost managed to do it through the first part of the scene, which was pretty good. He certainly wasn’t going to scold her for grabbing on to him at the end. He’d told her to do her best rather than to succeed for a reason, because he didn’t want to have to punish her for failure. Failure and punishment weren’t his thing anyway.
He moved her hands so that her wrists were together, doubled the rope up, and wrapped it around her until they were secure. Not so tight it would dig in, but she wouldn’t be moving them apart anytime soon.
“You know, I feel totally safe this way,” she told him.
“You sound surprised.” He moved over in front of her again and got more rope from the bag.
“I am, a little. But I know if anything happened, you’d take care of me. I don’t just believe it. I know it.”
That word ”belief” again. It had been the thing that worried him most, that had made him fear that they weren’t right for each other. But now he knew they were. Too much worked about them as a couple, and if they couldn’t believe the same things, so be it. He respected her and her beliefs too. Hopefully she could do the same for him, but he suspected she was more accepting to begin with.
He kissed her. She kissed back. They tongue wrestled for a moment before he drew away.
“I can be me with you,” she said.
She put it so well. “I can be me with you too.”
She grinned. “Your lovely, wicked self.”
He chuckled. He wrapped the rope under her breasts and around her arms. The next pass went over the top, above her black bra. Then another under, to give her more support. He glanced up and saw she was smiling. Good.
He nudged the fabric that covered her breasts down, scrunching it under her breasts and exposing her nipples. They were still hard from before and red too. He kissed each one tenderly, resisting the urge to suck them into his mouth. They needed more recovery time. The bunched fabric would assist his bondage, providing padding from the ropes below, and the bra would still provide a little support.
More ropes went around the back of her neck, then down, to lift the ropes below her breasts until she was getting more support from the rope than she was from the bra. Then he used it to cinch the rope that went over top to the lines that went below until her breasts were squeezed up and outward.
She looked down, wide-eyed.
“How do they feel?” he asked, stroking the smooth flesh but leaving her still-tender peaks alone.
“Um, swollen. Big. Tingling.” She paused, and for a moment he thought maybe he’d tied the ropes too tight, that she was losing sensation. “Wonderful,” she said at last. “My whole boobs are as sensitive as my nipples.”
He grinned. That wasn’t loss of feeling, then. It was just what he wanted. “Then they’ll really feel the rest of what I want to do.”
She nodded, gulping. “I’m thinking they will.”
He recovered the clothespins from where they’d landed and placed them back into the bag. He was done with them. The crop, however, remained on the black sheet where she could see it. Available for use. The broad tip made it gentler than a long one, and it didn’t have the spring of its full-size cousin either, but it could still pack a sting. The key was that he could control how much sting. He didn’t need to give her the most intense experience possible. But he wanted maximum control to give her the best one.
He brushed the side of one breast with a knuckle, then the other, and was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath. Lovely. He didn’t know why he enjoyed those little reactions so much, that mixture of pleasure and pain, desire mixed with uneasiness. But it was the way he was.
She needed more time, and he had things to set up. He reached into the bag again and pulled out four short pillar candles, each in taller glass candle holders. They were mostly paraffin, mixed with a red dye and some massage oil, all carefully selected to have a melting point slightly below that of the wax. The result was that the melted wax would be cooler than a normal pure candle. Some dyes and scents
could make a candle hotter, and that was decidedly not good for what he had in mind. These candles were safe and smelled of sandalwood.
He put one at each corner of the sheet and lit it. It struck him that what he was doing was not unlike the ritual he’d seen Marisa perform in the forest, although four was a practical number for what he had in mind, and the arrangement was motivated by a desire for symmetry rather than mysticism.
She raised her eyebrows and then said, softly but with feeling, “You can always be you with me.”
He smiled. “I’m me. This isn’t magic. It’s BDSM. And a bit of romance.”
She looked relieved.
He smiled. “You seem to like me as I am too much for me to want to change.”
“And you, me, Master.” She hesitated.
“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked, realizing she had more to say.
“If I wanted you to do magic with me—to participate in a ritual, say—would you? Even though you don’t believe?”
He wanted to just give her a yes, but he stopped to think about it. It wasn’t even that he didn’t believe. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore. What he did believe in was her, and he knew that if she wanted him to do it, he could trust that it would do him no harm. She’d rewarded him with that trust as his submissive. He was happy and able to return it. “Yes, Marisa, I would.”
“Thank you. I’m all yours.”
“Perfect.” He kissed her. It was almost a chaste kiss, but the way her eyes glowed afterward was incredibly pleasing to him.
He picked up the crop again and tapped on her breasts with it. On top. On the side. From the bottom. Everywhere but her nipples. He was rewarded by more sharp breaths.
“I’m wet, Master.”
“Did you ever stop being wet, slave girl?”
“Never. But I wanted to let you know anyway.”
He grinned. “Noted.” His cock twitched in his jeans. He’d been rock hard for the last several minutes, and the ache hadn’t gone away. The skin on her breasts looked stretched, as if her tits would pop if he poked them. He could only imagine how sensitive they were, but he liked what he imagined.
Submissive by Moonlight Page 11