Page 14 of S is for…

“Yes, Sir.”

Again she saw his jaw work, saw him swallow hard, before he said, “Good.”

He toyed with her other nipple, spending even longer pulling and twisting.Then he applied the second clamp.That alleviated some of the pressure on her first nipple, and after the pain from the second clamp had faded a bit, she was able to take a deep breath.

She looked down at herself, at the tray attached to her waist and her breasts so lewdly distended.

Peter walked away, and she watched him go, first to a dark corner and to the bar.When he returned, he set a small stool on the floor beside the table.

“Sit.Knees spread, shins on the floor.”

Carefully, she knelt.The stool was barely six inches tall, but allowed her to pseudo-kneel without putting too much strain on her actual joints.She tucked her lower legs along the edges of the stool, her knees spread.

Peter leaned over and placed his glass on her tray.Her nipples screamed in pain and Diann sucked in a breath.Holy shit, this hurt.

“Would you like to hear, specifically, what’s on our list for the letter ‘S’?”

“Yes, Sir.”She spoke carefully.

He pulled papers out of his pocket, unfolding them.“Serving as art, serving as furniture, serving as a maid, serving as waitstaff, serving orally, and finally serving other Doms, both supervised and unsupervised.”

She held her breath as she listened.All those were things she liked, though she hadn’t actually tried all of them.

Peter picked up his glass to take a sip, not even looking at her as he did it.The reduction in the pull on her nipples was a brief moment of relief, though of course the clamps still hurt.

When he set the glass back down, she lurched forward in reaction, almost tipping the glass off the tray.It was instinct, her body moving to eliminate the source of the burning pain.

“You’re a cocktail table.Act like it.”The warning was there, heavy and dangerous though his tone was dispassionate.

“Yes, Sir.”

Diann tried to sink into the scene, though part of her was still going over the list of activities.Serving as art sounded possibly boring or frustrating, but the rest of them were absolutely the types of activities that made her feel used in the way she needed.

Why then, was a ball of anxiety forming in her gut.

The answer came to her an hour later when she was licking a sub named Josslyn’s clit, the taste of the dental dam strong on her tongue, and Peter said, “If you make her come before he’s finished, I won’t make you serve as my footstool.”

The words at first had Diann’s body clenching with need, but it was followed by a slimy feeling as she momentarily pictured herself on hands and knees, Peter ignoring her as he used her as at footstool the way he’d ignored her while she was his cocktail table and waitress.

Diann circled Josslyn’s clit with her tongue, trying to bring the other woman to orgasm.Despite the fact that an hour ago she’d been excited by the list of “serving as” items, she did not want to be Peter’s footstool.

“Do better,” Peter said a moment later.

Something inside her broke.It was the cold flatness in his voice that did it.Shame swam through her.There was a ringing in her ears, a pressure against the inside of her breastbone that made her heart hurt.

Josslyn’s words, spoken not to her or Peter, but to her own Dom pierced through the ringing in Diann’s ears.“I need to be used.I need you to be cruel and strict and then smile.”

Yes, Diann thought, that.

I need to be used, but I need my Dom, my top, to care about me.Not love me, because that fucked everything up, but care, even if they pretend they don’t to enhance the scene.

And Peter didn’t care about her.He might even hate her, and that was turning what should have been a really good scene into something disgusting.

No, it would be okay.There were always emotional low points in a scene.

Diann kept licking Josslyn through one orgasm into another.She should have felt a bone-deep satisfaction at being ordered to orally service another sub.

Except…

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