Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I do as I’m told with a yes, Sir, as I get in position. He fixes both cuffs to one of the bars, and I test them, tugging.
He’s good. There will be no slipping out of these.
“You have gorgeous tits,” he tells me, taking some bondage rope from the table. “Have you ever had them bound before?”
“Thank you, and yes, Sir.”
But it turns out that my idea of tit bondage and his idea of tit bondage are two very different things. I thought Connor was rough with rope when he bound my tits together, but Sir uses the thin rope like ribbon, one breast at a time, wrapping the cord around and around until they are darkening in seconds. Fuck, this isn’t like I’ve known it before. He uses a fresh piece of cord to bind them together, and I’m already moaning at that. I close my eyes as he wraps the rope around the back of my neck and uses it to hoist my bound tits higher.
My God, the blood is pumping through the rope. My tits are already pulsing.
It’s the kind of stuff from my favourite porn movies, and through the fear my endorphins are already beginning to flow, breaths shallowing.
I love tit bondage.
I love the way the sensations become so intense that you can come from your nipples alone – a solid thread of electric that runs straight from your tits to your clit.
This guy – Sir – could get me off in seconds, I’m sure.
He brushes my swollen nipples with his thumbs, teasing me as I squirm. I’m already spreading my legs like a whore, and he looks down, but doesn’t touch me.
“A true submissive,” he says. “Excellent.”
“I’m a good pain slut, Sir,” I tell him, breaths rasping.
“I’ve no doubt of that, but still. I’m sure we’ll find your limits tonight.”
Fuck, it sounds scary, coming from his mouth, but I’m already losing my head to everything but the sensations. He gives my tits time to swell, staring, and I start to pant, squirming in my bonds as they prickle. God, I wish he’d touch me. I want him to hurt them. To tease them. To use them. But he’s so calm, so stoic, so poised as he reaches slowly with both hands, his fingers gently gripping my nipples.
The sensation is incredible. I feel it all the way to my toes.
Sir is smirking as I moan, blinded by pain as he pinches my nipples sharp and hard. It makes me hiss. Makes me squirm and grunt as he stretches them before finally letting go.
“Good girl,” he says, moving to the table and coming back with two clamps.
He tightens them on my nipples, slowly for maximum effect. I writhe against my bonds, letting out a whimper.
“Spread your legs,” he says, and I do as I’m told, fighting the urge to beg him to touch me.
He’s careful not to brush my clit as he applies clamps to my pussy lips, just tugs at them to make sure they are clipped solid. Ah, the blood pumps there, too. This is good. So good.
Sir takes a crop from the rack and taps it against his palm as he watches me squirming.
“Keep your legs spread wide,” he tells me, and I nod for him.
“Yes, Sir.”
He starts with gentle crop slaps on my thighs to warm them up, the speed of his slaps increasing into a barrage that spreads up and down, giving a blissful burn. He begins the sharper lashes amongst the taps, HARD, soft, soft, HARD, unpredictable. He uses the full length of my thighs, but stays just shy of my pussy, which has me reeling, because I want the tap of a crop on my clit so bad, I could scream.
I’m not at all prepared when he strikes my stomach and works his way up my rib cage. There are less taps now as he uses my flesh – just pure solid swipes with the crop. My hands are in tight fists as I try to enjoy the pain, but I’m struggling, crying out with every strike.
It’s like he can read me as he looks into my eyes.
He nudges my nipple clamps with the end of the crop and I moan fresh, squirming. He presses the tip against one of my swollen tits for aim and then raises it high to strike me. Fuck, how I flinch, knowing it will hurt like hell – but he’s only playing with me.
“Good,” he says. “Always be ready to expect the unexpected.”
He does slap my tits with the crop, but not with a belter. Each strike is carefully positioned, just hard enough to leave a stripe of white amidst the deep pink swelling. His taps are so much more intense on sensitive flesh, and I suck in deeper breaths, clenching my bruising thighs together.