Page 80 of The Sadist and the Brat

“What I like about the coated side,” he went on blithely, seemingly unaware of the increase in both her heart rate and her trepidation, “is that I can tighten them down quite a bit without risking damage. And what I like about the uncoated side is that I can do quite a bit of damage without having to tighten them down.”

He smiled, and she knew he hadn’t missed a thing. “Which would you prefer?”

“What?”

“I’m going to put these on you,” he explained, allowing the chain to dangle from one hand again. “And I want you to choose which end.”

“Oh, fuck me.”

“Is that a formal request?” he asked silkily.

“No, no.” She shook her head frantically. “That was an expression of…of…”

“Dismay?” he offered.

“Yes.” She nodded, head bobbing frantically. “Dismay.”

“Hmmm.” He eyed her for a moment, considering, then relented. “All right, you get a pass on that one.”

Her sigh of relief was audible. “Thank you, Boss.”

“But you still have to make a decision.” He set the chain to swaying. “What’s it going to be, Sadie? Teeth or padding?”

She bit her lip. Padding was the obvious choice, because those teeth were vicious, and her nipples were sensitive. But with the padding, he could crank the pressure to the maximum, causing serious pain without drawing a drop of blood.

“Is ‘neither’ an option, Boss?” she asked hopefully.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you that choosing neither will be considered a choice for both,” he said, and smiled his cartoon-villain smile.

“Figures,” she muttered.

His smile widened, getting, if possible, more sinister. He held up his phone, the screen facing her so she could see the clock app, set to a thirty-second timer. “You have thirty seconds to decide.” He tapped the screen to start the countdown. “If the timer goes off before I have your answer, I’ll make a choice for you.”

Shit, shit, shit. She closed her eyes, trying to focus past the instinctive panic. It was a choice between pressure or punctures, and that meant it was no choice at all. While the potential for intense pressure scared her, thinking about those sharp little teeth digging into her nipples was just—wait a minute. He’d said, “I’m going to put these on you”, but he hadn’t specified where.

Her eyes flew open. “Hang on.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Yes?”

She ignored the numbers ticking down on the screen. “Where exactly are you planning to put the clamps?”

“Well, well,” he purred. “You’re just asking all kinds of good questions tonight, aren’t you?”

She fought the urge to squirm. He’d gone past cartoon villain and right to comic book supervillain. “Are you going to answer it?”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Whichever end you don’t choose will be attached to the rope around your thigh.”

She swallowed, very much afraid she knew where this was going. “And the other end?”

“Will be attached to your labia,” he said, and glanced at his phone screen. “Along with three other sets of clamps. Ten seconds.”

Three other sets of clamps?She stared at him, stunned and momentarily frozen in shock.

“Five seconds,” he announced. “Four…three…”

“Padded!” she shouted, drowning out his two-second warning. “I choose padded!”

“One,” he finished, and smiled as his phone chimed. “Just made it under the wire.”

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