Page 79 of The Sadist and the Brat

A trickle of unease worked its way through the haze of lust. He turned away, reaching back, and she tensed, wondering what toy or tool he was retrieving. But he only laid the tube of lube on the sofa beside him and turned back, settling back between her spread legs.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, the words trembling with anticipation.

He smiled. “Whatever I want.”

Chapter Twelve

The first blow came before the words had even faded, hard and sharp and square on her right butt cheek. It was followed closely by one on her left, the crack of it mingling with her startled cry. She jumped, an instinctive twist to try to evade. It made her muscles flex, which in turn tugged on the plug embedded in her ass and set off a round of spasms in her pussy.

“Now, that’s charming,” he observed with obvious delight. “Absolutely charming.”

She wanted to say something like, ‘Glad you think so’, but she couldn’t seem to get enough breath to form the words.

“But I do wonder,” he continued, “if it’s the pain that causes that reaction, or the way you jump when you get hit. What do you think?”

It took her a moment to answer. “I don’t know,” she finally managed. “Does it matter?”

“Not at all,” he said cheerfully, and this time brought his hand down on the inside of her thigh. The sting was sharper there, more focused, and dragged a short, sharp cry from her lips.

“Hmmm.” He frowned, his eyes trained between her legs. “That didn’t seem to have the same effect.”

“Sorry,” she said, and hoped he’d hit her again.

“No worries,” he said, waving a hand as though she was apologizing for stepping on his foot. “I think I know what the problem is.”

She gave a short, gurgling laugh that had him glancing up. “I know I’m going to regret this, but I’m going to ask it anyway.”

His eyes gleamed at her, laughter and lust dancing in them, with that hint of evil lurking beneath. “That’s my girl.”

She ignored the little fission of delight and tried to focus. “What…” She had to pause to catch her breath. God, she wanted to fuck, but she didn’t dare ask. “What do you think the problem is?”

“What a good girl you are,” he enthused, and to her surprise, leaned down and planted a smacking kiss right on her clit. She shrieked, the spasm of pleasure making her hips jerk in search of more, but he was already sitting back. He said something else, but she couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in her ears.

She shook her head to try to clear them. “What?”

“Never mind.” He let out a chuckle that would’ve done any cartoon villain proud. “I’ll show you.”

He reached down to pick something up off the floor, and she wanted to keep her head up to see what it was. But her neck was getting sore, and she’d find out soon enough, so she let her head fall back to rest on the ottoman.

“I need you to look at me, Sadie.”

She lifted her head obligingly, but her neck twinged in protest. “My neck is starting to get sore,” she said, raising her gaze to his. “Could I have a pillow, Boss? Please.”

“Of course.” He shifted smoothly to his feet, lifting a plump velvet pillow from the couch, and circled the ottoman. He slipped a hand behind her head, lifting it for her, and slid the pillow into place. “Better?”

“Much,” she said, sighing with relief at the support. “Thank you, Boss.”

“You’re welcome, brat,” he replied, and laid a brief kiss on her mouth before moving back to his seat on the couch. “Can you see me?”

The pillow put her at the perfect angle, though she couldn’t see anything below the edge of the ottoman. “Yes, Boss.”

“Excellent. You have a choice to make,” he said, and held something up. It dangled from his fingers, glinting in the light as it swayed, and after a moment she realized it was a pair of nipple clamps, connected by a chain. “This is a set of alligator clamps. You’re familiar, I assume?”

“Yes.” Alligator clamps were her favorite kind because the little screws made them easily adjustable. And unlike clover clamps, they didn’t get tighter the harder they were pulled.

“Good. You’ll notice,” he continued, picking up the end of the swinging chain so he held a clamp in each hand, “that one of the clamps has had its teeth coated in plastic. The other has not.”

She could see that. The clamp in his right hand had a thick red coating that would act as padding, allowing the user to tighten them down without the teeth biting in. The clamp in his left hand was bare, tiny steel points gleaming in the light.

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