by Lacey Savage
Good girls didn’t go looking for trouble. I’d learned that lesson long ago.
Anything I was supposed to learn, Erik would teach me. Wasn’t that what he was here for?
I reminded myself that I had agreed to this, even as I snuck a glance at Cole. I was looking for reassurance, but found only thinly veiled concern in his dark eyes.
Cole closed the distance between us and pushed a lock of hair away from my face. “You’re sure?” He’d posed the same question at least half a dozen times since Friday night, and even though I was growing tired of answering it, I didn’t want him to stop asking.
I nodded as my fingers crept to the silk tie of my robe.
“Let me.” Cole swept my hand away and tugged on the knot. It came loose easily, and the fabric slipped over my shoulders to pool onto the floor.
Cole gasped at the sight.
That morning, I’d pulled out the leather bustier I’d purchased in San Francisco—and then spent the rest of the day grappling with the decision to wear it. I’d finally resolved to take the plunge and yank it on, figuring it was now or never. I’d given Erik and Cole one final night. After this, when would I get another opportunity to dress like a BDSM plaything again?
Cole’s gaze was glued to my breasts where they sat on a small leather shelf, on full display. My nipples beaded, showing off my piercings perfectly. Apprehension swept through me and I shivered.
“Come.” Erik’s deep voice jolted my feet into moving.
He didn’t say anything about my choice of outfit, but his gaze traveled over my body and lingered on my chest.
My trepidation grew with every step, along with my desire. Liquid heat coated my folds and slicked the matching leather thong that had come with the bustier.
I was prepared to climb into the mesh seat, but Erik stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
“This isn’t right,” he said as he assessed me. “It’s not what you need.”
My heart skipped a beat and my hand fluttered up to the base of my throat. Was he joking? This was exactly what I needed. A bone-deep shudder spread through me, and I braced myself for the words I dreaded to hear.
We’re done. I don’t demean myself with filth.
Tears stung the backs of my eyes. Ben’s voice was so clear in my head that for a moment I feared he was standing right behind me. But when I turned, I found only Cole, his face filled with worry.
I gave him my best shaky smile. I lifted my chin and steeled my spine for Erik’s inevitable dismissal. Might as well get it over with.
Erik, however, seemed to have other plans. He was removing the mesh seat from the tripod contraption and hooking in two wide rubber straps that curved back on themselves to form a large hole in the middle of each. He strapped them to the overhead bar, and they hung suspended from either side, dangling a few feet off the floor.
Erik held out his hand. “Come,” he repeated, and I moved before he could change his mind.
Erik motioned for Cole to join us. “Grab her around the waist and lift her up.”
Cole’s hand on my overheated skin sent a trembling shudder through me. When he hoisted me a few inches off the ground, Erik motioned for me to lift my right foot. I did, and he grabbed it. With Cole’s help, he threaded my foot through the opening in the rubber strap and slid it over my knee, up to my thigh. He did the same to my other foot and before I could even brace myself, Cole moved away.
I gasped, expecting to lose my balance and crash into the floor, but the rubber straps provided more support than I’d expected. My legs were spread, my ass and pussy covered by a flimsy strip of fabric but otherwise splayed open and easy to access.
“Lift your arms.”
I obeyed without question and quickly found I could wrap my hands around the bar above my head for even better balance. Before I could get too comfortable with that idea, Erik closed the handcuffs around my wrists.
I was locked in place, suspended in midair, completely at their mercy.
A moan slipped from my throat before I could hide it. I’d been vulnerable when tied to the St. Andrew’s Cross, but at least I’d been upright. I could move my hips, thrust out my chest, wiggle my ass. I was too afraid to move in this contraption. It looked fragile, and for a moment I wondered if the whole thing could collapse with me in it.
Erik must have read the sudden terror in my gaze. He ran a hand across my belly and smiled. “Relax. This piece can handle two of you.”
I swallowed past the lump of anxiety that had lodged in my throat, and nodded. “So what happens now?”
Erik raised an eyebrow. “What would you like to happen?”
My nipples were so stiff they ached. My pussy wept with anticipation, and my muscles coiled with arousal. My body practically hummed with longing.
I must have taken too long to answer, because Erik dropped his hand and slid two fingers across the surface of my thong. He smacked my clit lightly with his open palm. Not hard enough to cause pain, but firmly enough so I knew I shouldn’t keep him waiting.
“I—” I sucked in a breath, struggling to find the words. “I want Cole.”
I heard my husband’s intake of breath, even though I couldn’t see him. He stood behind me, and I felt the heat of his body as he came close enough for me to feel his chest lightly pressing against my back.
“Then you shall have him.” Erik stepped aside.
I twisted my head to follow his movements, but he vanished to one of the shelves behind me. Cole joined him, and I hung there with nothing to do but wait and imagine what they might have in store for me.
The crack of a whip brought my head up. Sweat beaded on my temples and my belly went taut as I stiffened.
“Let’s see how your lovely wife takes to a bite of pain.”
I wrenched myself in my bonds, no longer caring if the aluminum legs could handle my sudden straining. “You can’t be serious.”
Erik moved to stand in front of me. He cupped my breasts then ran the pads of his thumbs across my piercings. “You’re not afraid. Not of Cole, and not of me. You’re not even afraid of the whip he’s holding.”
I shivered. My spine arched of its own accord, bringing my nipples into closer contact with Erik’s hand.
“She’s trembling. Maybe she’s—”
“She’s aroused.” Erik grinned, daring me to disagree. “She likes this.”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip but didn’t say a word.
“Begin,” Erik said.
The first flick of the whip barely touched my ass. I gasped and jumped anyway, because I hadn’t expected the brief touch against my skin.
“You have some skill with that.” Erik nodded as he looked past my shoulder at my husband. “Good. Continue.”
I moaned as the second smack landed closer, slightly harder. The tip of the whip curled around my buttock, leaving an imprint of sensation on the skin of my ass and part of my upper thigh.
Erik stepped between my spread thighs. His hard cock pressed against my clit. The added friction of his jeans made me want to squirm against him.
He leaned in so close his faint five o’clock shadow scraped my cheek. “This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”
Cole let the whip loose again. This time the bite was stronger, the ache more intense. I gasped and held on to the bar above my head, tightening every muscle in my body. My arousal flared, and at the next stroke an urgency overcame me. I writhed and shuddered, closing my eyes against the accusations I could see clearly in Erik’s gaze.
“You want pain. You’ve wanted it all along.”
A sob fled from my lips.
“Ginny.” My husband’s voice broke, full of concern.
I went completely still. The trembling in my body didn’t ease but panic threatened to fill my veins.
“No, don’t stop.” Erik’s voice was gruff, the authority there unmistakable. “This is what she needs.”
“But—”
“Don’t stop,” Erik repeated. “She k
nows her safe word. She’ll use it if she feels she has to.”
Mercy.
I opened my eyes, met Erik’s self-satisfied gaze. I wouldn’t use the word, and we both knew it.
Cole lashed me again. My body jumped under his ministrations, and my inner walls tightened with desire. Erik was right. Cole knew how to use that whip. His strokes caressed me rather than causing any true pain. I thought briefly of the time Cole had spent working as a stable boy at his uncle’s ranch the summer of his fifteenth birthday. I bet he’d never imagined he’d use his training this way.
Erik cupped the outsides of my thighs and held me close to him. I ground my pussy against his cock, needing the jolts of pleasure that small amount of friction brought.
“You want more, don’t you?” Erik taunted me with his whisper.
I nodded once. It was enough.
“Harder,” Erik commanded.
To my surprise, my husband obeyed.
The next stroke caught me unaware. Not because I didn’t expect another, but because it was so much firmer this time. The pain jolted my awareness, made me clutch the bar as I strained against the sudden flash of agony that spread through my body. It started in my buttocks but quickly flared around me to my clit.
“That’s right, honey,” Erik soothed. “Let go.”
The following flick of the whip brought a sensation so sudden and intense, along with a burst of desire so powerful, I never saw either coming. Like that time on the piercing table, pleasure careened through me with such force that I was helpless to do anything but cry out and ride the wave of my orgasm.
My pussy convulsed and every muscle in my body tensed as the release washed through me. The pressure in my veins became all-encompassing. I could hear the rush of my blood in my ears, the pounding of my heart.
And above all, Erik’s voice, no longer a whisper but a scream inside my head. “What a pretty little pain slut you are.”
The crude words washed through me, bringing with them all the shame and humiliation of Ben’s taunts. I opened my mouth to deny his claim but another stroke on my buttocks shut me up.
Cole had switched instruments. He’d moved on from the whip to something with a flat, hard end. I pictured a wooden paddle but had no way of knowing if I was close. When he hit me with it, the pain that blossomed out from my buttock was pure ecstasy and gut-wrenching revulsion all wrapped into one. It swept through my body with the force of a tornado and ripped another cry from my throat.
I could feel the second orgasm gathering like storm clouds in the pit of my belly.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are when you come.” Erik’s gaze was heavy lidded as he gripped my jaw and forced my head up so I could stare at him. “I wish Cole could see you like this. See your face fill with bliss when his strikes connect to your pretty flesh.”
Tears filled my eyes even as my clit throbbed and my pussy creamed again. The release I had so desperately craved hovered on the brink of another explosion, but now, I no longer wanted it. I gasped and fought to hold the orgasm at bay as Cole landed a strike to my left buttock.
“Yes, honey, that’s it.” It was my husband’s voice now, not Erik’s, urging me on.
The pain rushed through me, and I knew a moment of panic like no other. I couldn’t stop the cascade of sensation any more than I could will myself to stop breathing.
When it came—when I came—I sobbed.
I wasn’t this woman. I wasn’t a pain slut or a whore or any of the other things Ben had called me. I didn’t want pain. I wanted a normal life, filled with missionary sex and pleasantly bland encounters with my husband. I wanted nice, ordinary, predictable, because that’s who I was.
But my body betrayed me. Cole switched instruments one more time, this time slipping something narrow and flexible between my outspread legs. When he brought it up to smack my clit through my panties, the ache was sweet and dull, and I exhaled my relief as my need to orgasm again dimmed a touch.
But then Erik gripped my piercings between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and tugged sharply.
I closed my eyes and arched my back, and at that moment I knew I didn’t want him to let go. I wanted him—needed him to pull and yank and tug. The sweet bliss of sharp pain shot a primitive wave of response through me. I gave up fighting it, knowing I couldn’t.
“You’re so beautiful, honey.” My husband again, but his voice barely registered through my raging need.
The fingers on my nipples were instruments of torture and ecstasy, pain and bliss, agony and delight. I arched into them, both fearing my release and needing it with every fiber of my being.
The climax slammed into me with the inevitability of my next breath, drawing a soul-shattering cry from my throat. The fingers coaxing my nipples showed no mercy. They tugged, pulled and pinched, and the waves of sensation rushing to my clit told me the men weren’t anywhere close to done with me.
A sob caught in my chest. What had I done? What had Cole done by bringing this man into our home, by handing me over to his debauchery?
When I opened my eyes again, I was looking into Cole’s, not Erik’s. I hadn’t felt them switch places, but my husband was there all the same. His hands were on my breasts, his fingers squeezing my nipples, drawing quick little gasps of anticipation from my throat. His eyes looked different, clear and intent, his pupils blown out so they nearly overtook the irises. I saw something different in my husband’s face at that moment. A vitality and passion I hadn’t recognized in him before.
“I didn’t realize.” He said it softly, almost reverently, which made me want to hide my head in shame. “I should have, but I didn’t. I was so focused on your feelings for Ben, I didn’t stop to think about the reason his words affected you so much.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks unbidden. With my hands cuffed, I couldn’t wipe them away. But neither could I look at him, so I turned my head away. I couldn’t take knowing that he understood what I was, at my very core.
The whore Ben had always known me to be.
Cole released my left breast and trailed his hand down the center of my body. He slipped his fingers beneath my thong and found my clit, then pinched the little nub at the same time as he squeezed my right breast. The flash of pain made me squirm. Arousal shot, white hot, down to my core.
“Here,” Erik said. “Try this.”
I kept my eyes averted but anticipation leapt in my chest. I didn’t know what Erik handed Cole. Another whip or paddle? A dildo?
Understanding came in a rush when Cole pulled my thong to the side and Erik instructed him further. “Attach the clamp to the sides of her clit. Gentle…yes, that’s it.”
The bite of the clamp around my clit caused me to jerk my head up. Sensation spread through my nerve endings, and my body vibrated with a desire so deep I thought I might split apart from the inside.
“Good girl,” Erik soothed. “You can make her come again.” The latter he addressed to Cole. “Try whatever feels natural. The whip, a cane, more nipple play. Her body translates pain into pleasure. It transforms the signals as you provide them, so she grows more aroused as those signals reach her brain.”
I could barely process that. It made sense, yet I didn’t want to consider what that said about me. I always knew I wasn’t like other women but I hadn’t realized just how irrevocably screwed in the head I really was.
My lust mingled with my humiliation and dimmed a fraction, until Cole tugged on my nipple ring again. The writhing need in the pit of my stomach lurched to life. My thighs trembled, and the clamp around my clit felt like the touch of heaven and hell all rolled into one.
They played me like that for what felt like hours. Cole was the one commanding my body but Erik instructed him, sometimes with softly whispered words, other times—when Cole hesitated—with harsh commands. Every scrap of sensation wrung from my body brought me closer to release, until I knew, without a doubt, that I wasn’t broken in that way. I could orgasm just fine.
Only not
like other women. Not from the sweet sensation of a cock entering my pussy or from oral caresses or masturbation. No, I needed a clamp, a whip, a paddle. A jolt of pain, a flash of agony.
Whore.
Pain slut.
Filthy little bitch.
The caress of a whip landed across my backside and every nerve ending began to sing. Something large prodded my back entrance. I welcomed it, loving the burn it induced. Two clamps bit around my pierced nipples, and I thought for a moment I could see stars.
My body was no longer my own. It was Cole’s instrument, just like he’d wanted. His to play with wild abandon. It responded to his ministrations with humiliating predictability. Every lash, every smack, every pinch brought me closer and closer to orgasm.
The tears barely stopped through all this. As my body responded to the intensity of sensation, I sobbed harder. I was a wreck, needy and wanton, embarrassed and ashamed.
Cole was tireless, whispering endearments in my ear as he went. He didn’t fuck me. Neither did he offer me to Erik. He seemed content to watch me writhe and shudder in the throes of orgasm.
Probably making up for lost time.
After what felt like an eternity, I couldn’t take it anymore. My body ached everywhere. The strain on my thighs from my legs being spread open and held suspended added to my arousal. My arms hurt too, as did my ass, my sphincter, my clit, my nipples. Every part of me throbbed with sweet agony and yet my hunger grew, my need intensifying with each moment that passed.
“Mercy.” The word slipped from my lips unbidden. I hung my head and my hair fell around my shoulders, hiding my face.
“You heard her.” Cole stopped, stepped back. “Untie her.”
Erik didn’t hesitate. I felt myself lifted, cradled against a broad, masculine chest. Cole’s, I knew instinctively, though I didn’t open my eyes for a while.
“Put me down,” I said at last, relieved to hear my voice was stronger than I’d expected. “Please.”
Cole lowered me so my feet touched the floor. I wobbled on unsteady limbs but pushed him away when he reached out to help me.