Page 32 of Cruel Master
“Comfortable?”
She swallows, then shakes her head. “No, Master. I—”
“You get one hour like this today. If you touch yourself again without permission, it’s two. And so on.”
She relaxes a fraction as I set the timer running, and I want to laugh. Does she really think this is her only punishment? This is just the beginning.
I finally, finally let myself touch her soft, pale skin, lingering over her nipples. As soon as I touch her there, they harden. It was always one of my favorite things about Juliet. The gentlest touch has her moaning. Of course, that can work against her, too.
I play until her mouth goes slack and her eyes lose focus. Then, without any warning, I clip the first clamp onto her nipple.
She screams, head snapping forward, eyes full of hurt. These clamps are the savage sort, to be left on no longer than fifteen minutes, and she’s going to feel every second of that time. I hold up the second clamp, and she shakes her head. “No. Please. I’m too sensitive. It’s—”
I snap it into place.
She squeals again, twisting from side to side as if she can dislodge them that way. No such luck. Tears shimmer in her eyes, making the green even more vibrant. I never noticed before how tears change the color of her eyes. “Please. It’s burning. It’ll—”
I tweak one clamp, and she shrieks. Euphoria swamps me. My mind clears, all the usual background noise draining away. I’m right where I need to be. “Try to keep calm, doll. Your punishment will last twenty-four hours, and I havesomuchplanned for you. We’re just getting started.”
Chapter Thirteen
Juliet
Nippleclamps.They’vealwaysbeen right at the top of my no no list for good reason. My nipples are sensitive little flowers, and this asshole just shoved a red-hot poker into them.
Christ, it hurts.
I wriggle on the weird dildo stick, but I don’t know what I’m trying to do. I’m lodged as securely as if he’d chained me in place. It presses up inside me like an iron bar, splitting me in two. The shoes are already cutting my feet, and a wave of panicky lightheadedness washes over me.
If I had a safe word, I’d already have used it, but there’s no such thing here. I’m completely at Saldar’s mercy, and he hasn’t shown very much of that so far. I shouldn’t have broken his stupid rule.
Is this as good as your fantasies? You never had a safe word in those.
That taunting little voice can go all the way to hell.
He tweaks my clamped nipple again, and the hot rush of pain obliterates even the voice. Why did he go straight to clamps? It’s like he knew it would be agony for me. How much research has he done?
He steps away, and all I can do is watch in horror as he fetches a wickedly thin cane. He disappears from my view, behind me, and I twist to watch him, which presses the dildo deeper. At least the pain in my nipples is fading as my body adjusts its expectations.
I swear I feel the moment the endorphins dump into my system and lean into them, willing the floaty euphoria to come as it always does. I try, but the position is too weird, requiring too much effort on my part. My mind stays obstinately present. Goddamn it.
A high-pitched swish is my only warning before the cane lands, and I jolt, squealing. I’ve never been bitten by a snake, but it’s what I picture as thin rattan slashes into my already bruised skin. The sudden movement jerks me on the dildo, too, and my pussy throbs, bruised.
“Keep still.” Saldar echoes my thoughts. “I might want to use that cunt later.”
Such savage, nasty words. They echo in my head as he whips the cane down again, and I force myself to keep mostly still. He called me doll before. Is that how he sees me? As a thing to be played with? It feels that way.
The sick part of me likes the thought, but when the cane slices a particularly sore spot, even that part yells out for help. I swear he’s aiming for the bruises. I manage to ask, “Please, Master. How many?”
“Until I think you’ve had enough.”
Fuck. I can’t fight the sob as he strikes me again.
I start begging by ten.
I lose count after twenty.
My mind finally softens, but it’s not the lovely floaty peace I usually find during a punishment. It’s a red haze, creeping across my vision with each lightning strike. He moves around my body, leaving angry red welts in his wake, and it’s all I can do to keep my feet underneath me.
