English Girl Goes To Brighton (Part 2) free porn video

Bent over the chair, Hayley waited for him, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. She lifted up on her toes, arched her back and pushed her ass out, hoping to please him as he sat on the couch, directly behind her. She hoped he was enjoying the view. The plug was still there, big and rude inside her—could he see the bright blue tip? Her ass wanted his attention, all of her did, even while it scared her. Being bent over the chair was more comfortable than she’d expected. Would she still think that in a few hours? How long would it take him to come three times? The thought of him coming in her that many times thrilled her. She wanted him to want her that badly, that much, to turn him on to that extent, so that he couldn’t stop fucking her. Now that was slutty, wasn’t it? She wondered when the last time he came three times in one day.

Of course, the biggest question in her mind, the question that was throbbing through her clit--Would he let her come???

He was still sitting on the couch, and she was too scared to peek over her shoulder, to see the look on his face. Was he planning the wickedness that would follow? How long had he been planning it? Weeks? Or had he seen the chair yesterday and that started it?

Perhaps three minutes later—a very long three minutes—he stood up and walked to her. “You are so beautiful, especially like this.” He stood next to her, still fully dressed, her looking down at the leg of his jeans and his white socks. Somehow that made it more dominating, her naked and him clothed, showed who was in control and who was vulnerable. Who was owned.

She was a mess of emotions: nervous, scared, excited, wet, wanting to please him so much, wondering how far he’d push her. That was the danger of being owned by someone both creative and wicked. A bit of a cruel streak, he liked to say. However, she also knew he cared, cared about her a great deal, and he always left her feeling taken care of, of being understood and accepted for who she was. How much she cared about him, now that was the real danger, one she was constantly trying to ignore.

He kneeled down and unfolded his left hand, showing her the black blindfold there. Gently, he moved her hair out of the way, told her to hold it, and wrapped the blindfold around her eyes. It was thick and soft, and blocked out the light completely. Her world went dark. Her heart beat hard, like her chest was too small for all the damn emotions swirling and surging through her.

He said, “They say losing one sense makes the others more sensitive. We shall see…” She nodded. She already felt hyper-sensitive, her nervous system on full alert, every nerve pulsing, a light sheen of sweat covering her skin. The sound of his footsteps moved away from her, getting quieter and quieter, then she couldn’t hear anything above the pounding of her heart. A minute or two passed. The tension kept building, one wicked layer on top of another, her breath far too loud. Finally, she heard him coming back.

He ran a finger in a circle on her right ass cheek. “Are you sure, my sweet slut? Do you still want me to have my way with you? Play with you all day with you tied and helpless?”

“Yes, Sir.” It felt like she’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted that; her whole body ached for it.

“Do you want to be my little fuck toy? To be used and taken in every hole? For me to do as I please, to do whatever I please?”

God that turned her on. How can just his words make me so fucking wet? “Yes, Sir, I do.”

“Say it. Tell me what you want.”

She swallowed, thinking I could just stand up, ask him to take me in the bedroom, fuck like a normal couple might. That wasn’t what she wanted. Why did she crave his wickedness? “Please, Sir, please use me and take me.”

His finger disappeared from her cheek. “Oh, you can do better than that. You’re a slut, remember? Try again.” His hand smacked her bottom, not hard, but it surprised her.

She swallowed, composed herself. “Please, Sir, please make me yours. Please come in all of my holes. Please use me. I am yours, your slut, for your pleasure, for your use. Use me, Sir, I beg you. Make me your fuck toy.” She was proud of that, even smiled a little.

“Mmmmm, good girl. I love when you give yourself to me, how you do it so completely.”

His fingers touched her left wrist, then wrapped something soft and wide around it. Then she felt the little movements of his fingers and knew he was tying her to the chair. He moved to her right wrist. Subtly, she tried to move her left, and there was perhaps an inch of play, but no more. It felt very solid. A moment later her right arm was bound in the same way. She was starting to appreciate what giving herself to him really meant, the helplessness starting to sink in. His hands touched her left ankle, ever so gently, then moved it outside the leg of the chair, so her legs were even wider, making her even more exposed, more vulnerable. Another band wrapped around her ankle, and that leg wasn’t going anywhere. Far too quickly, the right ankle was bound, too. She was helpless. At his mercy.

He’d tied her once before, to the bed, and also put her in handcuffs a time or two, but this was something different. Bent over, ass high, everything open to him. She was helpless, vulnerable, all control gone, and she’d given it away, given herself to him. Why did it turn her on so much?

His hands caressed her foot, one running across the bottom, the other touching the tops of her toes, then the top of her foot. His touch moved so slow, and was so light, it barely tickled. His hands moved up her leg, his fingertips moving back and forth, touching every inch of her skin. He reached her ass, avoiding the crease of her cheeks, but touching the side and front of her hip, around the chair. One hand trickled across her tummy, as the other ran up and down her back. “Mmm, I so love the feel of your skin, so perfect, so warm, so young.” He kissed her back, right in the middle, then his lips planted little kisses up her spine. His hand ran up her chest, avoiding her nipple, but did circle around it before running down her arm. His other hand in her hair, he gently pulled her head up and he kissed her, their tongues teasing each other. He kissed each cheek, then gave her another good kiss. His mouth disappeared, replaced by his fingers, caressing her face below the blindfold, letting her suck on one or two. His hands moved on, to explore the other side of her body, taking his time, touching every centimeter.

When he’d made it down to her other foot, his kissed the outside of her thigh as he ran his fingers back up the inside of her leg. Ever so slowly, they moved up her thigh, getting closer and closer. A finger circled her snatch, then did it again, just outside the edge of her lips. She knew he was looking right at her pussy, could see how wet she was, could see her asshole, too. It felt like she was on display for him, that it was even more revealing than the first time she’d played with herself as he watched, her legs spread obscenely wide. His fingers pulled her pussy lips apart, and then a fingertip, very lightly, ran up the outer edge of one lip, then down the other. Another pass, this time just inside her lips. Her knees bucked—it was so sensitive. And she couldn’t close her legs, didn’t dare say a word. He continued running his fingertip up and down her slit, teasing it, spreading her lips, exploring. His finger teased the oh-so-delicate skin between her snatch and her asshole, causing her legs to shake.

That same wicked finger circled her asshole, leaving a wet trail of her pussy juice in its wake. It flickered over her delicate hole, then slid back down and continued to explore the folds of her pussy. It was sweet, intimate torture. He never touched her clit, the bastard, not once. It would only take twenty or thirty seconds, she thought, frustrated and desperate, though those words did nothing to convey how badly she needed to be touched, needed to come, needed relief of some sort. New words needed to be invented to define her need and her towering frustration. He wouldn’t come three times in her and not let her come, would he? No one is that mean, she hoped. Please, dear God, don’t let him be that cruel. And yet part of her wanted that, knew it would show how completely she was owned. He decided when she came, no one else, and especially not her.

Then his soft and wicked fingertip was gone. He walked in front of her, put his finger to her lips, and she licked and sucked like the good little slut she was, tasting her own frustration.

His voice calm, like he was telling her the weather outside, he said, “I think we’ll start with a spanking. I want your owned bottom good and red, some bruises too. You know when your ass is good and red, it makes me so hard. I’ll probably have to redden it up a few times later, and I can’t wait to watch you cook for me in your little apron and a red, red butt.” He moved behind her, rubbed her ass with both hands, then spread her cheeks, exposing her asshole. “And I know how much my slut likes her ass good and sore. Likes the reminder of being owned every time she sits down.”

“Yes, Sir, I do.” Now at least things were going somewhat in the direction she’d imagined. Somehow that felt safer.

He pressed his full hand against her perfectly shaven pussy, completely covering it. “So nice and smooth. And wet. All things that would be true of a slut. Are you a slut?”

“Yes, Sir. Your slut. Your wet slut.”

“Really? I think a slut would like a spanking. What do you think?”

She did take a moment to think about it. “No, Sir.”

“Huh?” He wasn’t expecting that, which made her smile.

“A true slut, and owned slut, would want whatever pleased you, Sir.”

“And what do you think would please me?”

“Hmm, probably a very red bottom. Please spank me, Sir, if it pleases you.”

“You always find new ways to please me. Good girl.” His hands rubbed her ass, squeezed it. “Count for me. Let me know each dozen.” She strained up on her toes, trying to get her ass higher, arching her back.

The first one cracked into her ass, the left cheek. Though it was only his hand, it stung. His hands were so hard, so strong. He didn’t start light, no, it was heavy, solid spanks, all over her ass.

“One dozen, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Is my slut enjoying her spanking?”

“I enjoy pleasing you, Sir. Anything that pleases….”

“No, baby. Do you like it when I spank you?”

“Yes, Sir, when it doesn’t hurt too much.”

“Good girl for being honest.” The spanking resumed, slow and steady, heating up her ass.

“Two dozen, Sir.”

“Are you sure? I think that’s only 21 or 22.”

“Sir, I am a certified accountant.” That made him laugh, but the spanks didn’t get lighter.

“I seem to recall you have made a mistake or two.” Spank, spank, spank.

It was odd that without that mistake, without the infamous letter, this wouldn’t be happening, that her life would be the same as it always had been, which had been pretty boring.

“Three dozen, Sir. How many will it be?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’ll depend on the color. Though I think asking deserves another dozen.”

“Yes, Sir, it does.” She wondered if he’d ever spank her for a true punishment, spank her hard, with his thick belt, or something worse.

Spank, spank, spank. Her ass was starting to smart, starting to feel toasty. “Four dozen, Sir.”

“Okay, one more to go.” These were harder, more on her lower cheeks, over and over in the same two spots.

“Five dozen, Sir.” Part of her was sorry it was already over, was wishing for more.

“Good girl,” he said, rubbing her ass. “Now a few with the hairbrush, some bruises would be good.”

Now she was annoyed with that part of her wishing for more. He walked out of the room, no doubt getting her hairbrush. Her wicked, large, wooden hairbrush.

He came back, slapping the brush against his hand. “I’m thinking two dozen should be good. Which side is more sensitive?”

“The left, Sir.”

“Okay, we’ll start on the right. Arch up. We want good bruises where you sit down. I so like you sitting on a sore ass, reminding you that you’re owned. It makes me hard just thinking about it.” She liked that, arched up for him.

Crack, crack, crack. The hairbrush damn well hurt.

“One dozen, Sir.” Her voice sounded higher, less sure.

“Do you think about me spanking you, every day, when you brush your hair?” She’d had to pick it out, bring him one that pleased him. It had been expensive.

“Yes, Sir.” Crack, crack, crack, each one slightly harder, or maybe it just felt that way.

“Does it turn you on, to think about that? Do you get wet?” He sounded like the accountant, his voice relaxed and reasonable, despite what he was doing to her bottom.

“Yes, Sir, every time. I wonder when you’ll use it again.” Crack, crack. “Two dozen, Sir.”

“Oh, that looks good. Very nice and red. We’ll have to see if we get the bruises I want. You might need more later.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now the other side. Arch up.” She did, though she knew it was going to hurt. She wanted the bruises, too. Liked when he squeezed her ass and it caught her breath.

Crack, crack, crack.

“One dozen, Sir.” This side was more sensitive. Why was that?

The last dozen were harder, pushing her limits. Finally, she could say, “Two dozen, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He walked away, came back a few minutes later. “I have a few surprises for you, too. A few new toys.” The wickedness in his voice made her even wetter. “I’m going to leave you like this for fifteen or twenty minutes. You are not to speak during that time. After that, we’ll start. When I come back, I want that pussy of yours very wet.”

“Yes, Sir.” Fuck. Yet some part of her liked it, liked how helpless it made her feel, liked even how he ignored her. It was humiliating, she realized, to be left like this, tied and red-assed. He walked away, into the bedroom, and shut the door. After that, she couldn’t hear anything. It was a horrible forever.

She was pretty sure he was making her wait longer than twenty minutes. Had he forgotten about her? It felt like thirty. Maybe it was a test, to see if she’d say something. What would he do to punish her for that? More than anything he’d ever done, this made her feel owned, like his little fuck toy. That he could do anything with her, including ignore her.

The door opened. Her body tensed up, suddenly nervous after waiting so long, wanting him to come back. He didn’t say a word. Something, not his fingers, trailed from her shoulder blades slowly up to her ass. It almost tickled, like twenty tiny fingertips caressing her skin.

“Enjoy your time alone, my slut?”

“Not really, Sir. But it did make me feel owned.”

“Good girl. I love your honesty, your pure heart.” The twenty tiny fingertips kept playing across the skin of her back. “This is your second gift. It’s called a flogger. This one is a small one, very soft, don’t you think?”

The word flogger scared her. She wasn’t even sure what it was. “Sir, it is soft.”

He smacked it against her sore bottom. It stung, but not much. A hand spread her cheeks, and the tips of the flogger played with her asshole, then trailed up and down the backs of her thighs. “I seem to remember a certain slut enjoying spanking her clit with a ruler.”

That caused a rush of blood into her snatch. “Maybe a little…”

He laughed about that. “We’ll see if you like this.” He lightly tapped the strands of the flogger against her pussy. Her unprotected pussy, no way for her to close her legs. God she loved that, the helplessness. Slowly he tapped her pussy harder and harder with the strands of the flogger. “Slut, do you like that?”

She wanted to lie. She couldn’t. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mmm…good girl.” The pussy spanking stopped. He moved in front of her, and she heard him unzip his pants. That could become her favorite sound. “We’re going to play a simple game, a game a slut will enjoy. You’re going to suck my cock. I’m going to use the flogger on you, on your back, on your ass. Some might wrap around and get your nipples. I know you’ll like that.” He demonstrated one, the strands of the flogger smacking lightly against the side of her ribs, the tips sneaking around and popping her breast. She gasped. Damn she liked that. “Some might slip between your legs, find you asshole, or your owned pussy.” He demonstrated that. She wanted him to do that harder. “When I come in your mouth, and you swallow it all, then I’ll stop. A slut might slow down, or not use her tongue much, if she was enjoying getting—what would the word be, flogged?—getting flogged. But if she wanted it to stop…” The tip of his cock touched her lips. She opened wide. “Do you want to play the game, my slut.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, eagerly.

He slid his cock into her willing mouth. The flogger smacked each ass cheek. It didn’t hurt, stung a bit, but she liked it. Then one got her pussy, a bit harder. She liked that too, but her mind realized that at some point it would start to hurt. She would need him close to coming, at that point. Suddenly, she understood the game.

He pulled his cock out of her mouth, put his lips near her ear. His voice very kind, he whispered, “Love, I haven’t done this before, to anyone. If it gets too much, you will snap your fingers twice. It is not my intent to hurt you or punish you. At least not any more than you crave.”

She whispered back, “Yes, Sir.” She told herself that she would not be snapping her fingers. He kissed her, long and deep. Then his cock was back, pushing rudely into her owned mouth. The flogger teased her back, light, playful swishes. Then it smacked into her ass.

She really liked the game. Liked the flogger. Liked the depravity of it all. Wanted the game to go on a long, long time. How did he unlock this crazy, wicked part of her? Where had this come from?

Five minutes later, she was less sure. Some she really liked, the flogger cracking into her ass and her pussy. Her nipples too. She loved when he caressed her with it. But the ones on her back, or on the side of her thighs, those started to hurt. And she did want him to come. She started sucking hard, using her tongue.

“Oh, is my slut reaching her limit?” Her only answer was to suck even harder. “Mmm, good girl. You’re getting so good at that. Yes, you definitely suck cock like an owned slut.” He started thrusting into her mouth, his cock hard and filling her. The flogger punished her, one, two, three in a row reaching around and hitting her snatch. She moaned around his cock, sucked harder. “I can see how red your skin is, how red your ass is. It looks like art.” Smack, smack, smack, still not hard, but starting to sting, everywhere.

He said, “I love looking down, watching my cock disappear between your lips. That’s it, baby. Suck on it. Do you want my come?”

She nodded. “Only a slut would want a big load of come in her mouth. To taste the biggest load of the day. You are such a naughty, naughty little slut.” God, just a touch of her clit, and she was sure she’d come. It felt so owned, even more so than in her office, on her knees, her ass red, sucking on him for the first time. To be tied, blindfolded, helpless, having her mouth fucked—that’s definitely what this was. A blowjob on her knees, that she still had some control over. This was being owned and fucked.

The flogger kept finding wicked spots. She wanted five or six on her clit—she thought she could come from that. She tried to stretch her legs wider, silently begging for it, like she was being edged without being touched, wanting her clit spanked. He probably didn’t even know how turned on she was. Nearly two weeks of edging would do that to a girl. Did he have any idea? Did he care? He seemed focused on other things. He spanked her ass, harder and harder, catching her snatch once or twice, the little flogger making a swishing sound before it hit her skin.

He made the little growl—the sound she associated with his coming. She was ready, wanting it, sucking harder and harder, the bottom of her tongue already sore. The flogging stopped. A hand found her hair, held her head in place, as he came in her mouth. He kept pumping. She kept sucking (like a good little fuck toy). Another spurt. It was more than the previous night, which made her feel good. She swallowed, swallowed again, wanted more and kept sucking even as his hips slowed down.

Loudly, he said, “Fuck!” He mostly pulled out, only the head in her mouth. She licked it, sucked on it. He pulled it out, wiped it on her lips and cheek, leaving the last bit of his come in both places. “Damn, Hayley, damn. God damn. That was hot.” He laid down on the floor in front of her, his breath loud and rough. “I’m not sure how you’re going to top that one.” She was damn sure going to try.

His hand reached up, ran over her head and hair. “Damn. I may need a nap, after that. I’m not sure my balls have anything left for your other two holes.”

Even though she knew the answer, she asked, “Did I please you Sir? Am I a good fuck toy?”

“The best, my slut. The best ever.” That made her smile because he did not say things he didn’t mean. He kissed her, which he usually didn’t do when he’d just come in her mouth. “Okay, I’m going to watch some soccer. Don’t go anywhere.”

###

She nervously listened to the game, knowing that it didn’t bode well for her if Arsenal lost. He was supposed to be an American, with no interest in ‘soccer’, as they wrongly referred to it. This was humiliating. Was he even looking at her? Or was he into the game and ignoring her completely? Was he even occasionally enjoying the view of her spanked ass or wet pussy? It both angered her and reinforced what being his meant. She didn’t care at all about football, but this game seemed critical to her. She could imagine Arsenal losing, and him deciding that she wouldn’t come until they won. That would get her involved in the game. But, thank God, they won, 2-1. He turned off the TV, pattered into the kitchen, then went into the back room. She waited, not daring to say a word, the taste of his come still strong in her mouth and throat.

She still wanted to be mad, which, considering her position, wasn’t all that smart, but when he lifted her head and kissed her, the anger evaporated. Casually, he said, “You know, we haven’t edged you yet today. That’s not very considerate of me. Do you want me to touch your clit? Even though you know I’m not going to let you come? Unless I change my mind…”

Hayley had learned, learned it deeply, that even wicked attention was much better than no attention (and listening to some damn football game). “Yes, Sir. Please touch my clit.”

Business like, without touching another hair on her body, he walked behind her, pushed his fingers across her pussy (which was busy re-wetting itself) and found her clit. “Five edges, I think. We’ll start with a 9.5. And no, you absolutely do not have permission to come.”

It had gotten so bad that she looked forward to the edges, the feeling of his fingers, even with the mountain of frustration filling her. “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir, please edge me. Teach me that I’m yours.” Sometimes things came out of her mouth that truly surprised her.

His fingers felt good. Damn good. But at this point a breeze across her clit would have been welcome.

“Did you like the flogger, my slut? Should we add it to our regular toys?”

“Perhaps, Sir, we could save it for special occasions?” She was a little worried about it would lead to. A bigger flogger?

“Did my come taste good? Did you like me fucking your mouth like that?”

“Yes, Sir. I loved it. Sir, I’m up to a 9.”

“Already? I guess it has been a while since you’ve come. But I know you’re enjoying the frustration. The lack of control. The feeling owned.”

“9.5. Sir, please, please, please, may I come?” She knew it was hopeless, knew the fingers were about to disappear. But still, she had to beg, she had to hope.

The fingers disappeared. She moaned, the frustration heavy and thick and threatening to crush her. He chuckled, then smacked her ass. “Now, what should we do while you calm down a little?” His very wet fingers found her mouth, and she sucked on them, wanting to bite them. His other hand found her hard nipple. He played with it, pinching it and rubbing it. His fingers left her mouth, and he pushed her torso sideways, so he could kiss and lick her nipple. It felt heavenly. She had small breasts and small nipples, which she was self-conscious about, but they were very sensitive.

He sucked on her nipple, pulling it into her mouth, then bit it lightly. She moaned. She would have been perfectly happy with a harder bite. He finished with a kiss. “Let’s see if you like this.” She jumped as something very cold touched her breast. She tried to move away from it, but of course, there was nowhere to go. One hand held her shoulder so she couldn’t move at all as the other pressed the ice cube against her nipple. She moaned again, a very different moan. “I probably don’t pay enough attention to your breasts. Especially since I think you like them punished as much as your ass and pussy. Maybe more?” She was very careful not to answer that question. “You’ve probably calmed down enough. What number are you at?”

“A 7, Sir, maybe a 6.5.”

“Should we edge you again?”

“If it pleases you, Sir.”

“Good girl. It does.”

Again, with no preamble, without touching anything else, he walked behind her, found her clit, and rubbed it. “You brought the nipple clamps, right?”

That question alone jumped her from a 7 to an 8.5 in half a second. “Yes, Sir.” Why did she like her nipples punished?

“The combination of the clamps and the ice should be fun.”

“9 Sir. Please, please, please Sir, may I come? I’m begging. Just one, just one little one, please, please. I’ll do anything. Please.”

“It’s tempting. I like seeing your begging improve. But you will already do anything I ask, won’t you?”

She could only moan a yes.

“Remember, let me know when you’re at 9.6.”

She did not want to let him know. She did not want him to stop. She wanted to come. She was about to come, knew it was wrong, knew it was going to displease him, she couldn’t even imagine to what level. She opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say, on the edge of an unbelievable orgasm—

His fingers disappeared.

Guilty, a moment too late, she said, “9.6, Sir.” Her body was shaking, but she was relieved she hadn’t come, hadn’t been bad.

“Oh, I think someone was higher than that. I think someone was about to come, was going to sneak one in. Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re going to come? What number were you really at, my slut?”

“9.9, maybe 9.95. I’m sorry Sir.” She felt horrible, and she hadn’t even come.

“I know I’m pushing your limits, my love. Just think of how you’ll feel when I do finally tell you to come for me. In a month or two…” He always though his jokes about that were a lot funnier than they were to her. “But still, you should have told me when you were at 9.6.”

An ice cube touched her clit. She gasped, and again tried to get away from it, straining against her restraints. “Please, Sir.”

“Please what, my slut? Please teach me to be a good girl with an ice cube?” The cube rubbed against her clit, an edge moving it back and forth. “I’m surprised your pussy isn’t turning it into steam.” Her body kept twitching and moving, trying to get away from the wicked cold, but he kept rubbing it against her, until the cube was tiny.

He asked, his voice as cold as, well, an ice cube, “Who controls when you come? Who decides that?”

“You do, Sir.”

“Who controls everything that touches your pussy?”

“You do, Sir.” Another ice cube touched her pussy, spreading your lips. “Oh, God…”

“Your very first rule is that you only come when I tell you to.” The ice cube pushed into her pussy. “It would disappoint me, hurt my heart, if you broke that rule.” His fingers pushed the cube deeper into her pussy. It wasn’t as bad as her clit, but it still wasn’t good.

“I’m so sorry, Sir.”

“The rest of your punishment will be for you to write your rule 100 times. You will do it every day for the next ten days. They will be very neat, and in different colors, so they are pretty. You will send me pictures of each, and if I’m not happy with them, you’ll do them again. You will of course write them naked, and laying on the floor of your apartment. Not on the carpeted area, on the hard wood. Do you understand?”

Her pussy felt frozen. “Yes, Sir.”

“Then you will put them up in various places in your apartment. As a reminder…”

“Yes, Sir. I will please you, Sir.”

“I know you will. Now let’s edge you again.” After the ice, this one took a while, but she was very careful to tell him exactly when she got to 9.7.

After that, he kissed her, to let her know she’d been forgiven, and kept kissing her for five minutes or more. It was a very weird way to make out, but she still loved it, and felt very relieved.

He pushed her partly sideways again, to lick and kiss and bite her other nipple. Then she felt the cool metal of the clamp. “Only a very dirty, naughty, completely-owned slut would like having clamps on her nipples.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you enjoy it?” The metal pressed into the sensitive nub. She gasped. It hurt a little, then started to tighten.

She moaned, “Yes, Sir.”

“More than when I spank you?” Another twist tighter.

“Yes, Sir.” It felt very revealing to say that.

“And do you like it when they’re sore, and you feel every movement inside your shirt?”

“Very much, Sir.”

“Do you like it more than when I spank that naughty clit with the ruler?”

She had to think about that. Both were so wicked, so bad. “Maybe a tiny bit.”

He let go of the clamp, and the weight of it pulled down on her nipple. It was exquisite. The clamp had a five or six-inch chain attached to it. He lifted it up, then let it go, so it swung back and forth, underneath her. More wicked torture.

“I bet edging you this time doesn’t take long.” It didn’t, she was at a 9 when he started. Again, she was very careful to tell him when she hit 9.8. It fucking sucked.

He kissed and licked and played with her other nipple, causing the chain to swing back and forth on the already-clamped one. She loved it. Her nipple nice and wet, he put the second clamp against it, the metal cool (but much warmer than the damn ice). He tightened it down to the same point, and again she gasped and moaned her way through it.

“Sir, both could be a tiny bit tighter.” Another statement she couldn’t believe she’d said a half-second after the words left her mouth.

“Oh, really? I’ll have to pay more attention to your nipples from now on. I might have to figure out a way to lead you around by your nipples. You like this too much. Or have you cook with them on, though I’m not sure you could concentrate very well.” Every one of those ideas made her pussy crazy wet. “Perhaps we should get one pierced.” Oh fuck.

He started with the first nipple, and she felt the metal teeth of the clamp digging in even more. Then he played with the chain, gently pulling it in each direction. That made her gasp and moan in a way he liked. He licked the end of her nipple, poking out from the clamp, tender as could be. The tightening of the second was even worse, or better, she wasn’t sure which. He took the end of both chains, pulled her nipples closer, then further apart. Fuck she liked that, wanted more.

“Okay, baby, time for your last edge.” The nipple clamps still swinging, he walked behind her, spread her lips and found her clit. She may have loved her nipples being teased and tortured and licked and kissed, but her clit was still the center of her sexuality. “Be careful this time, a 9.9 isn’t easy.”

Because of her nipples, she started at a 9 or 9.1. He said, “If you hadn’t been naughty earlier, I might be tempted to let you come this time. Maybe take off a clamp as you were coming.”

“9.5, Sir.”

“Already? You are a nipple slut. Maybe a nipple-pain slut. I might have to have you wear those to work one day. Would you like riding the subway with those on? Feeling every little bump? Maybe I’d have you put them on at start of the hour, every hour, all day. Sometimes for 2 minutes, sometimes for 5. That would be fun.”

“9.7, Sir, 9.8. Please, Sir.”

“Good girl. Almost.”

“9.9!”

Yes, his lovely, soft, wicked, cruel-as-fuck fingertip disappeared again. She whispered, “Fuck,” which made him chuckle.

He walked in front of her, and suddenly the soft head of his hard cock was against her lips. Though she was nothing but frustration, she still wanted it and opened her lips. “That all made me very hard. I think it’s time we take your ass. Make sure you get it good and wet.” She moaned around his cock. “What a slut you are, my love. I should take the blindfold off for a minute, and get you a mirror, so you could watch me take your owned ass. It’s a beautiful picture, you tied and helpless, the clamps swinging from your nipples, your bottom red, you getting my cock ready for your bottom. That’s it, good girl, get it good and wet. Prepare my cock for your ass.”

She felt his fingers playing with her bound wrists even as his cock was still in her mouth. “I’m going to untie your hands and retie them behind your back. That way you can spread your lovely, red cheeks for me.” When both her hands were free, he took his cock out of her mouth and walked behind her. Obediently, her shoulders sore, she put her hands behind her back. She heard a click, and her very brief freedom was over.

“Hmm, your cheeks aren’t as red as I’d like. Arch up, ask for a spanking.”

“Yes, Sir.” She really didn’t want a spanking, she wanted his cock inside her, filling up her ass. “Please spank me. Make my cheeks good and red.”

“A dozen with my hand and with the hairbrush should do it. On each cheek, of course.”

“Of course, Sir.” She arched for him, and his hand spanked her left cheek. The smack pushed her forward, the chains attached to her nipples swinging with it. Now that she liked, the combination was wicked and intense. Smack, smack, smack, his hand warmed up her butt. There was no relief for her nipples, the chains swinging the entire time. “A dozen, Sir,” she managed, her voice a mess. She was very, very wet, though a lot of good that was going to do her.

“Good girl.” The hairbrush tapped against her red bottom, then started. Crack, crack, crack. She couldn’t imagine how sore her nipples were going to be. She might actually have to wear a bra, to protect them. If he allowed it, which was unlikely. “A dozen, Sir!” After the earlier spanking, and the flogger, the skin of her ass was quite tender.

His hand ran over her cheek. “That feels good and hot. Now arch up for the other side, nice and high.” Without thinking about it, she did as ordered. His hand smacked into her, the sensitive side, hurting a bit more. Her nipples were one long, painful ache, but she still liked how alive they felt, how on fire.

The hairbrush flat out hurt on this side, but she kept her ass high, craving the good girl that followed the dozen.

“Okay, my slut, spread those cheeks. Show me that tiny asshole that I own.” She reached back, gently cupped her very warm cheeks, and spread them. His finger tapped against her asshole. “Who owns this?”

“You do, Sir.”

“Do you want my cock there? Do you want me to take our ass.”

“Yes, Sir. Please Sir. Please own me, please own my ass.”

“Okay, here’s a little lube. Grease it up for me.” She felt the cold, slick lubricant he dribbled in into her crack. She kept one bound hand in place as she used the middle finger of her other hand to rub it against her asshole. She could feel him watching the whole time.

“Sir, may I put my finger in my owned ass?”

“Yes, baby. Let me add some more lube.” She moved her finger out of the way, felt the additional lube against her asshole. “Okay, slide it all the way in.” Tentatively, and as gently as she could, she pushed her finger in. The lube was very slick, but it still felt wicked and wrong and slutty. Finally, she felt her hand against her bottom, her entire finger inside her warm, tight ass.

“Good girl. Slide it in and out, really lube it up.”

Her finger fucked her ass as he watched. She liked it. “Mmmm, good girl, I like watching that. My cock likes watching that. It’s ready to take your ass.”

She pulled her finger out, spread her cheeks wider for him. “Sir, please use me. Please fuck my ass. Own me.”

The tip of his cock pressed against her asshole. His hands gripped her hips, pulled her back an inch, to get the height right. “It looks so big compared to your tiny asshole. You’re such a slut for wanting it there.”

“Yes, Sir, I want it.”

She felt his weight press forward. “Tight, baby hold it tight. Squeeze it. Keep it tight. Good girl.” She did, clutching her asshole as tight as she could, holding her breath. “That’s it, good girl. Now relax.” That part was much harder, but she did. The head of his cock, feeling much too big, pressed slowly into her. It’s not going to fit, it’s not going to fit, but then it did, the head of his cock pushing her wide, sliding past her muscle and violating her asshole, owning it. She cried out, always forgetting exactly how it felt, how possessive it was.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. It hurt some, but she wanted more. “More, Sir, please.” His grip on her hips tightened, and his cock continued its invasion. Many of the plugs they used were wider than his cock, but none near as long. Inch after inch pushed into her, filling her, stealing her breath away.

He said, “I love watching my cock disappear into your ass. Fuck it’s cool to watch.”

Finally, she felt his body press against her hands and ass. “Mmm, nice and tight and warm. Do you feel owned?”

“Oh, God, yes. Sir. Very.” Literally nothing felt like this. She might have liked his cock in her ass more than in her pussy, even though it hurt some, because of what it meant, what it symbolized, how wicked and wrong it was. And how much he liked it.

He pulled it nearly out, then pushed back into her. His balls brushed up against her pussy lips. She’d like more of that. Out and back in, a bit faster, until his body bumped into hers. That moved the chains again, awakening her poor nipples. The sensations were overwhelming. Again and again, each time a little faster, a little rougher as his body smacked into her hands.

“Where is my cock, my slut?”

“In my ass, Sir. Where it belongs.”

“Yes, it does. Damn your ass is tight.”

“Give me your come, Sir. Fill my ass with it. Please, please, come in me.”

“Oh, baby, I want to enjoy it for a while, enjoy the tight feel of your ass.”

“Yes, Sir, yes, fuck it all day, Sir. Use my ass. Show me you own me.”

He was going faster now, deeper, harder, truly fucking her ass. She wished there was a mirror, so she could see what a slut she was. Her pussy was loving it, her juices running down her thighs, her nipples crying out from the rough treatment of the clamps and their wicked chains. If she could just touch herself right now, rub for ten seconds, she knew she’d have the most unbelievable orgasm ever. She tried to arch up more, spread her cheeks wider, get him deeper inside her body.

He made the little groan/growl that meant he was close. Nearly yelling, she said, “Fuck me harder, fuck my ass, come in me. Own me.”

His cock grew even bigger inside her. He said, “Oh, baby, I’m going to come in your ass. Oh fuck.”

“Come in my ass. Fill it up.” God, she was talking like a slut too, her own words turning herself on even more.

“I’m coming.” He slammed into her, over and over, as he moaned. She tried to move her hips, tried to encourage him to keep going.

Then he was done. He collapsed on top of her, his head on her back, his breath hot on her shoulder. “Damn,” was all he could say.

After a long moment, their bodies breathing hard together, he seemed to recover. His cock still hard and still deep in her ass, he said, “Okay, my slut, I’m going to stand you up now. Very slowly, ease up.”

His strong hands pulled her shoulders up, and ever so gently, he lifted her up. Everything hurt. The arches of her feet were sore, her calves, her hips from being rammed into the chair. Then she was standing, her arms still tied behind her back, his arms wrapped tight around her, his cock a flagpole inside her ass. She twisted her body and neck so her head was pointed up at his, because she needed a kiss, and he gave her a good, long one. One hand teased the left chain, and she gasped.

“I’m going to take these off now.” She knew, from the first time, that it was going to hurt like hell. She felt his fingers on the clamps. “Are you ready? Deep breath.” She did as she was told, sucked in a big breath. Then the clamp was gone. The blood, long denied, rushed back in with a vengeance. She cried out. His arms held her tight as the pain in her nipple eventually tapered off to a dull ache. “Okay, baby, the sensitive one. Another big breath.” This time she was scared to. Instead, she held her breath, but he didn’t notice. She cried out again, louder this time. A fingertip flicked across her nipple. “Fuck,” she said, very loudly.

“Do you still like the clamps, my slut?”

She couldn’t answer, couldn’t think. Then his fingers found her pussy. “Damn, you're wet.” His cock was still rudely planted in her ass, maybe a bit smaller than it had been, but still feeling plenty big. His wet fingertips found her clit, started to rub it. “You didn’t enjoy all that, did you? Having your spanked ass fucked good and hard while you were bent over and tied? I know you enjoyed the clamps. I’m wondering if they’re your favorite thing.”

She still couldn’t talk, her mind consumed with if he was finally going to let her come. His other hand played with her impossibly sore nipples, gently rubbing them. Her hands reached down behind her, to feel his cock in her ass. She was just about to tell him she was up to a 9.5, maybe a 9.6, and beg to come when his fingers disappeared yet again. She opened her mouth, knowing she was about to clean them again. She wasn’t sure if he was ever going to let her come again, and mostly she didn’t care. She loved the way she felt, so sore and used and owned. He knew her, really knew her, had known her for almost her entire life. He’d seen all of her dark corners, seen every inch of her, seen what a slut she secretly was, all the wickedness she craved. And yet he still cared about her, still wanted to be with her, despite seeing everything, knowing everything.

“You’re such a good girl. If you want me to, I’ll untie you now. I’ve had enough fun, and it’s going to be a while before I can come again.”

She hated that thought. Despised it. She was a wet, big hot mess that hadn’t come in 12 days. An orgasm seemed like an impossible dream now, something that would never happen. He’d already come twice today, and once last night, too. Determined, she twisted out of his arms, bent back over the chair, resting her head in the seat. Her whole body was sore, every muscle protesting what she was doing. She could feel the air move across her nipples. Her voice strong, she said, “Sir, you still have one more hole to go. My pussy needs your come.”

To be continued (again)...