Page 81 of The Sadist and the Brat

“Shit,” she wheezed and slumped back against the pillow. “I think I hate you.”

“You might want to reserve judgment on that until all the facts are in,” he said and, with the smile she was coming to dread, held up four sets of alligator clamps.

She swallowed so hard he heard the click. “I don’t know if I can take that,” she said, her voice thin with fear.

He laid a hand on her belly and waited until her eyes flicked back to meet his. “Will you try?”

For a moment he thought she’d say no. But she nodded, trust and fear and desire in her eyes. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” he whispered and brushed a kiss on the inside of her knee. He heard her breath catch, felt the muscles of her belly quiver, and had to pause a moment to keep his own emotions in check. When he was sure he could continue, he lifted his head. “All right, darling, here we go. Don’t forget to breathe.”

Several minutes later, Jack sat back, keeping an anchoring hand on Sadie’s abdomen. Her breathing was ragged, the muscles rippling under his palm, neither reaction unexpected. After all, he’d just attached four clamps to her labia.

“Breathe, darling, that’s it,” he crooned, watching her carefully. Her eyes were closed, her face flushed and damp. The hair at her temples had turned dark with sweat and the tears that leaked from her eyes. He didn’t mind them—just the opposite, in fact—but he needed to guide her through the intense pain to the endorphin rush waiting on the other side in order to make them worth it.

“Keep breathing,” he instructed, leaning forward to slide his hand up between her breasts. Her heart hammered under his palm, a steady and rapid thump. “In and out, that’s a good girl.”

Her lashes fluttered, and after a moment she opened her eyes. Pain swam in their depths, nearly edging out the arousal. It was still there, though, and his relief at seeing it would’ve brought him to his knees if he hadn’t already been sitting down.

“Give me a color, Sadie,” he said, putting some snap in his tone to get her attention.

She blinked, and he could almost see her brain kick back into gear. “Yellowish green,” she finally said, her voice hoarse and thick. “You’re a fucking sadist, Boss.”

“So I’ve been told,” he said, masking his relief with a chuckle, and with his hand planted between her breasts as an anchor, looked down at her pussy.

The clamps were attached to her labia, two on the left and two on the right. Her pussy was slick with arousal—the butt plug had had more of an effect than he’d realized—and he’d had to tighten the screws more than he’d first estimated to keep them in place. That had made her writhe, little cries breaking from her throat with each turn of the screws, but she’d been handling it, breathing deep and maintaining eye contact.

Then he’d extended the chains, pulling them slowly to the side to attach the clamp at the other end to the ropes around her thighs. With two clamps on each side, the DIY pussy spreader held her wide open, every inch of tender pink skin visible, and it had the added benefit of being stunningly, shockingly painful. He imagined she’d had clamps on her nipples any number of times, but if she’d ever had her pussy clamped, he’d eat his shoe.

“I’ve never…” she began, licking her lips, “had clamps…on my pussy before.”

“I could tell,” he said, pleased that she was more alert. For a moment there, he’d been a breath away from taking off the clamps, cutting through the rope, and bundling her off to a hot bath. “Well?”

She blinked. “Well, what?”

“What do you think?

“It hurts,” she told him baldly.

He chuckled. “Of course, it does. That’s why I did it.”

She managed a choking laugh through labored breaths. “So? What…now?”

“That depends on you, sweetheart. What’s your color now?”

“Greener,” she admitted. “But still more underripe-banana than Kermit.”

He shook his head, amused. “Trust you. All right, I’m just going to ask. Do you want to keep going, or do you want to stop?”

“I don’t want to stop,” she said in a rush and bit her lip, her eyes clouding over with worry. “But I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Beautiful girl,” he murmured, swamped with emotion. She was trying so hard to take the pain, for nothing but the promise of pleasure—and because he’d asked her to. “Do you want to come?”

She nodded, need shining in her eyes. “Yes, please.”

“Can you stand a little more pain for that?”

“How much is a little?” she demanded hoarsely.

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