Page 55 of The Sadist and the Brat

She smirked back at him, not even bothering to smother the laugh. He looked almost comically ridiculous, standing there in his Armani suit with his dick hanging out, black streaks decorating the wet spot on pants that probably cost more than her rent. “Fuckin’ sue me.”

“Oh, I’ll do more than that,” he vowed. He reached down and unclipped her wrist cuffs from her ankle cuffs, then hauled her to her feet. Her legs buckled, and with something akin to amused horror, she felt the plug start to slip from her ass.

“Um…” she began, but it was too late. Too thick and wet for her anus to hold and too heavy to defy gravity, it hit the carpet with a thump and rolled under the bed.

“Did you just drop my butt plug?” Jack asked, a silken note of menace in his voice that almost covered the laugh.

“I told you it was too big,” she managed, still shuddering. Her anus was pulsing, the sensitive ring of muscle struggling to close back down after having been held open so long, and every twitch made her clit buzz.

“Your ass didn’t think it was too big,” Jack replied, backing her up until she was braced against the bed. “That slutty little hole wanted more.”

Sadie tried to come up with something sassy to say to that, but she was too horny to think of anything.

He tugged at her arm, and she looked up. He was attaching her wrist cuff—now with an added length of chain—to an eyebolt in the bedpost about a foot from the top, stretching her arm out. He did the same on the other side, then stepped back.

The mattress pushed into the backs of her knees, and she leaned into it, grateful for the support. Her legs weren’t quite steady, and her toes were starting to pinch in the boots, but she barely felt it. When Jack turned to rummage in a black bag on the floor, she thought about trying to escape, or maybe planting her boot in his ass, but she couldn’t focus enough to decide. She could barely remember she was playing a role, and that almost never happened to her. She was a bratty schoolgirl or a defiant cat burglar to the end, no matter how horny she got.

Except she wasn’t sure she’d ever been this horny before, and that meant she was currently much more interested in another orgasm than she was in performative defiance.

“Still with me, sugar tits?” he asked, and she blinked at him. He was standing in front of her again, something shiny in his hand, his fathomless gaze locked on her face.

“Right here, salty dick,” she replied, and snickered.

His beard twitched and his eyes crinkled—God, he was cute when his eyes crinkled—but he didn’t laugh. “Feeling sassy, I see.”

“So are you,” she commented, and looked down at his dick. He’d lost a degree or two of stiffness, pointing toward the floor instead of the ceiling now, but it still looked delicious, and her pussy twitched in response. “You gonna do something with that besides wave it around like you’re conducting a choir?”

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? That pretty little pussy feeling needy?”

“Please,” she scoffed, completely unconvincingly.

“I do like it when a woman begs,” he drawled. “But I think you can do better. We’ll work on it. But first…”

“First what?” she asked when he trailed off and squirmed when his eyes crinkled again. Dammit, he had to stop doing that. She liked it way too much.

“First this,” he said, and opened his hand.

She blinked at the set of clover clamps that lay in his palm, the chain connecting them falling to dangle between his fingers.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she scoffed, even as her nipples puckered in response.

“Oh, don’t you worry, sugar,” he assured her and reached for the tab of the zipper. “I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve.”

He began to draw the zipper down, and she dropped her head to watch. With her arms out wide, the suit was already stretched to its limit, and as he lowered the zipper inch by slow inch, the PVC peeled back from her torso to bare her breasts. He paused when they bounced free, and she swallowed when she saw how hard her nipples were, standing out like pencil erasers against her pale skin.

She thought he was going to put the clamps on and held her breath in anticipation. But after a moment he continued on, pulling the zipper tab down until it met the end he’d unzipped earlier, just below her belly button.

Her tits were out and so was her cunt, but her arms and legs and sides were still firmly encased in PVC. It was an odd sensation, making her feel more exposed than if she’d actually been completely naked, but she didn’t have much time to contemplate it, because he bent and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

She jerked, a squeal on her lips, and braced for pain. But his mouth was soft, his tongue circling gently before he began to suck, and it felt so lovely that she sighed and sagged against the mattress.

But after a moment she began to squirm. He was being so delicate she could hardly feel him, mouthing her breast with barely any suction and not even a hint of teeth. What had started out as soothing was quickly turning annoying—she needed friction, dammit!

She squirmed and wiggled and bucked, trying to get him to nibble or suck harder, but he paid her no heed. Just when she thought she’d scream from frustration, he shifted his attention to the other breast and treated it with the same soft, gentle nuzzling.

“Jack,” she said, the word coming out with a distressingly pleading note instead of the firm rebuke she’d intended, but he didn’t even twitch. He just kept working her nipple like a dying goldfish and finally, in desperation, she let her head fall back and let out a loud, rumbling snore.

He froze, head still bent to her breast, and she did it again, making sure to drag air hard through her nose for maximum noise.

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