Page 47 of T is for…

The tiny pinpricks were precise and relentless, yet frustrating.

“Again, Nathan, again,” she pleaded, eyes closed so she could focus on the feeling.

Once more, a path of pinpricks ran up her breast, but this time he was pressing harder, the pins indenting her skin. Tara hissed, going up on her toes.

“Heels down,” Nathan commanded.

Tara dropped, heels hitting hard.

“Open your eyes.”

Tara did, looking first at his familiar face. The heat and need in his gaze might be new, but she was rapidly coming to appreciate it.

Nathan held up another wheel, but unlike the first one, this one had multiple disks of wicked pins. It looked like a tiny version of something used to aerate a lawn.

“Watch. I want you to watch as I use this on you.”

Nathan positioned the wheel on the underside of her breast, pushing up, so for a moment, the weight of her bound breast rested on the pins.

Then he rolled it up the curve of her tit, passing right over her nipple. Pain exploded through her as the plethora of small spikes dug directly into her nipple. It stole her breath, overwhelming her as her mind struggled to put a label on what she was feeling.

If her mind would settle, her brain categorized this moment either as pleasure, pain, or normal pleasure-pain.

He did it again.

And again.

There was no label, no clear category for what he was doing to her. Pleasure and pain existed on a linear continuum, where one morphed into another.

The sting of a spanking became the physical pleasure of the deep, warm ache combined with an emotional pleasure at being spanked.

Direct clitoral stimulation right after an orgasm was pleasure so acute it slid over to pain.

No clean, linear continuum existed here. Instead of sliding side to side, closer either to the pleasure or pain ends of the scale, this was a three-dimensional fractal, complex and chaotic, sharp spikes of pain sliding down a facet of pleasure to fetch up against an intersection that was pain-pleasure, then making a sharp left to a different shade of pain.

Again, the pins passed over her nipple, this time moving horizontally.

This vacillation between degrees of pleasure and pain made Tara’s teeth clench, her pussy throb, and her back arch.

“You’re offering up your tits when you do that,” Nathan said in a low voice.

“Because I need more,” she said through her teeth.

She needed surety. Needed to label this either pleasure or pain. If not that, she needed to identify a predictable pattern in either his movements or the sensation.

Nathan once against positioned the spiked wheel below her nipple, digging the spikes in hard as he rolled it up over her nipple. When the wheel reached the tapeline, he reversed course, passing over her nipple once more, pressing hard enough that for a shocked moment, she was sure he’d pierced her skin. But when she looked down, all she saw was rapidly fading dots.

Tara tugged once at the bonds, desperate to rub away the lingering pain. She was helpless, unable to do anything but take it as her Dom teased and tormented her.

The constant changes in both sensation and pattern had her feeling on edge, out of control...

Helpless.

Deliciously, dangerous helpless.

Again and again, Nathan ran the pins over her skin, sometimes pressing hard enough to leave more of those small, quick-fading dots. Up and down, back and forth, the wheel stung and pricked her, until her throbbing tit felt raw and sensitized.

Then he switched to the other breast. Tara shrieked the first time he applied the spikes to that nipple, dancing back a step only for his strong arm to band around her waist, pulling her forward into the space between his knees.

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