Page 51 of Bottoms Up
When she slid off the table, I reached for her without thought, caught her by the hips, pulled her in, and kissed her like a man starved. Not soft. Not sweet. Justmine.
She melted into it, her weight shifting, hands pressed to my chest but not pushing. Letting me have the reins. Letting me lead, and I leaned back farther, controlling her more — for the first time in far too long, my Silver was finally back in my arms the way we bothneededher to be.
When I finally let her go, she was flushed and smiling.Wow, she telepathed, breathless.Talk about missing something. Can’t wait for you to take control of me once we get our boy strung up and desperately trying to manage his layers and layers of agony.
“I’m thinking asymmetrical bondage,” I said aloud, and finally gave in and adjusted my dick in my pants.
I sent her a visual of what I had in mind — so while Silver and I enjoyed each other, Atlas would be supporting himself in a one-armed handstand, the other arm bound so he’d have to choose whether to cause further pain to his crushed balls or his flattened nipples, with one ankle bound to the crusher itself. A full-body stress trap. His muscles would be trembling to hold position, every shift a punishment, and losing his balance would bring about more pain than he could possibly endure.
“Devious,” she said. “Fuck, I love you.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Atlas said again when she returned, more automatic this time. Showing respect, I thought, more than asking for mercy.
She didn’t answer him. Just dropped a coil of heavy rope onto the table with a thud that made my chest tighten.
Before we started getting him into the bondage, Silver swapped his plug out for a thicker one, longer and more brutal, glistening with a fresh coat of pepper oil. She’d put gloves on to do it earlier, but skipped them this time and washed her hands afterward, taking her time and doing it twice. I was pretty sure she wanted him to have a few minutes alone with the new plug before she went to the next step. Time to experience the double-burn of being stretched too wide and plugged so deeplyplusthe freshly applied hot pepper oil.
“Stand, boy. Do you know what tree pose is?” she asked.
He obeyed immediately, lifting one foot and pressing the heel into the opposite thigh, toes pointed down. Unstable posture. Muscles engaged. A subtle test of endurance already baked in.
“Excellent.”
Can you hook one wrist to the winch, so we can be sure he doesn’t fall?She telepathed.
Of course,I replied.
I moved to secure the wrist she’d indicated, but my eyes stayed on her — the curve of her spine as she worked, the precise control in her hands, the way her voice sent shivers across my skin even when it wasn’t directed at me.
She was safe. She was in her element. Andfuck, I was in love with her.
I hooked his left wrist so it was straight over his head, and she wrapped a rope around his left ankle and right thigh several times, connecting both ends to his ankle cuff, to make sure it stayed put. Once his ankle was secured so he couldn’t straightenthe bent leg even a tiny bit, she tilted his foot so the toes pointed forward, so she could get to his balls easier.
Five minutes later, he had a ball crusher attached to his jewels — not tight yet, just enough to keep him aware — but she’d hooked his ankle to the crusher and then released the cuff from his other thigh, so he had to hold his leg up or risk ripping his nuts off.
I wanted to grab my own nuts, just watching it play out, but I stood and let the heat roll through me. My cock pulsed with sympathetic ache and dark anticipation, and my balls tucked themselves into my body.
The device was still on a loose setting, not even close to crushing his balls yet, but gravity was doing the work while he fought hard to keep his foot up, to keep from yanking on the already-bruised tissues, already throbbing from the rolling treatment. She hadn’t rolled them flat, but enough to color them up nicely.
Layers of agony.She was still merely setting the stage.
Next, she screwed clamps onto his nipples until they were paper-flat and bloodless, tighter and tighter. A single tear rolled down his face — not sobbing, just one sharp escape of pain that leaked out when he couldn’t hold it back.
I’d shown her a great stress position to put him into, but she made it art, layering pain on pain until the poor bastard shook. My girl was in a savage mood tonight, and I couldn’t look away.
She’d never been more beautiful.
She strung a chain between the nipple clamps, then ran another from the chain to his right wrist cuff — and proceeded to run yet another chain down to the ankle cuff pulling on his balls.
It created a cruel geometry of pain. Every movement would punish some other part of him. A triangle of agony, stretched taut.
He’d literally have to either hurt his nipples to relieve his balls, or hurt his balls to relieve his nipples.
She looked him over from head to toe. “He needs a bigger plug and a fresh application of pepper oil.”
I held his cheeks apart for her to insert the near-troll-sized plug.
While Atlas’s scent told me how far he was into the hellish torment, he only gave a single grunt when Silver stopped pushing at the widest point, and then another low moan when it finally seated itself deep, deep in his body — while still holding his hole open wide enough I doubted his muscles would be able to get used to the stretch enough he could forget he was plugged, no matter how many other layers of torment we piled on top.
