Disobedience (3 page)

When he finally stopped, I hung there on my
chains, shaking and moaning, my thighs and bottom bruised, welted,
and on fire. It was a whipping unlike anything my Master had ever
given me, one that wouldn’t be offset with his wonderfully brutal
sex any time soon. But I was confident it would be later.

With that light at the end of the tunnel in
mind, I actually felt my belly clench in excitement, though I still
let out a sigh of relief when I saw my tormentor turn to walk away,
whip in hand.

The spinning lash cut across the center of my
breasts drawing a wide-eyed, surprised shriek from me. A vivid,
horizontal red welt split my breasts and areolae as he walked away
for good. Too shocked to do more than gape at the livid welts, at
first, the pain almost didn’t register. Then it enveloped my
breasts.

I blinked back the tears until I could barely
see my Master. He was sitting straight, and I could have sworn his
hand was on his crotch. Suddenly, I would have been happy for a
dozen more like the one I’d just received.

Instead, another Master came up. He also
began to fondle my burning breasts, but his touch was cruel and
uncaring. Free from having to care for me as he would have his own
slave, he showed as little restraint as he could, obviously wanting
only to maul a pair of breasts. Still, it was preferable to the
whipping, especially if it gave my Master similar pleasure.

As if sensing my thoughts, he grasped my
nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pinching as hard as he
could. Holding them crushed beneath his fingers, he stretched them
until I thought he was going to pull them off. When they started
slipping from his grasp, he dug his thumbnails in and kept pulling
until my breasts were totally out of shape and came to a point
between his fingers.

Unlike the whip, which had been more like
fire on my flesh, the pain he caused me swallowed my nipples and
aureoles then went deeper. Though my Master usually used
clamps—clover clamps that only bit harder the more he pulled—it was
a pain I was familiar with, one I even enjoyed. Were it my Master,
I would have been moaning and, even though I wasn’t, my body
couldn’t tell the difference.

I spread my legs, hoping my Master could see
the glistening. I realized I’d almost forgotten about the rest of
the crowd, at least until I thought more closely about it. When my
tormentor lowered his head to my left nipple and began to lick it,
while rolling and pinching the right nipple between his fingers, I
forgot about them again. This was something my Master often did,
and I couldn’t help but close my eyes.

His warm lips were soothing to my abused
nipple and soon it was hard and jutting into his mouth. He worked
my right nipple with his fingers, rolling it, pinching lightly,
caressing it, until it too became erect under his touch. He moved
his mouth to my right nipple and began to lick and suck it. My body
responded to his mouth, and I felt a warm glow begin deep in my
loins. This was nothing like the man that had, just moments before,
been trying to crush them.

But that man took me totally by surprise when
he bit down harshly on my right aureole. A cry of pain burst from
my lips as his teeth dug in. He ground his teeth together, but it
wasn’t until he dragged them along my flesh to the very tip that I
cried out.

Just as I thought I couldn’t take any more,
he switched back to my left nipple and began to work it over the
same way. Each bite made pain shoot through my nipple. As he
chewed, he pinched and pulled on the other one, not quite matching
the pain, but coming close. I whimpered in pain, but now my loins
were growing warmer by the minute. My Master’s inaction meant he
trusted everyone that would use me. What started out as a vicarious
thrill for him would now be one for me. I’d make sure of it.

Again, as if sensing my thoughts, the man at
my breasts bit viciously into my thick, meaty aureole, making me
shriek. I looked down and the mark, gasping as the pain worked its
way through my breast and to my loins. It wasn’t quite bleeding,
but it would be there for days. Besides the distinct bite mark
decoration, my sweet and usually pink nipples were red and
raw-looking, though as hard as ever. I felt that my pussy was
turning red as well, but not from abuse, and I knew my clit was
just as hard as my nipples.

As that Master sat down, a woman came
forward, still carrying her iced drink. I felt myself flush as the
crowd shifted in expectation. Her hands slipped down my back,
soothing my burning rear. Pulling me closer by my bottom, she bent
and kissed each aching, throbbing nub, comforting them as well.
Then she fished an ice cube from her drink and began lightly
rubbing my left nipple with it. The cold felt even better on the
raw flesh.

At first, I thought she planned to give me
some relief from the men that had no understanding of my other
needs. But soon, the cold began make my nipple ache. The ache
quickly became a burn that went deeply into the breast. By then I
was moaning, hoping she’d get the message. Instead, she iced me
down until I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer and the dull
ache suffused my breast’s entire tip. Then she went to work on the
right one.

As before, at first the cold felt good, only
to turn to a burning ache that was almost unbearable. She slowly,
deliberately put the remaining ice between her teeth and crushed
it, all the while smiling at me. But the smile never reached her
eyes, and the look made me shudder. Unlike my Master, who lived to
balance my needs with his own, or even the last Master, who seemed
to want nothing more than to enjoy himself, I realized this one was
vicious and cruel. All she enjoyed was causing pain.

Thinking about the calculated way she’d
bitten the ice, I started to worry about what she had in mind for
my chilled nipples when she turned and walked away. I didn’t have
time to be relieved, however, because she only walked over to a
table and set her drink down on it. Then she went to the cabinet
labeled, “The Toy Box.”

She came back with a blue ball gag and shoved
it hard into my mouth. The ball was large, and my jaws began to
ache almost immediately. She went back to the Toy Box and came back
with two clamps and some yellow rope. I’d seen clamps like them
before, in my Master’s garage. He had never used them on me.

She put the first one on the base of my right
nipple just far enough down that my aureole took half of the pain.
It crushed my sore flesh and I cried out, only to have the cry
muffled by the gag. When she put the other clamp on my more tender
left nipple, I cried out even louder, but again the gag muffled my
cry. Still, I would have enjoyed far more jagged jolts of pain
traveling from the clamps to my pussy for my Master’s sake.

Still not satisfied with my pain, she began
to tie my breasts. She was surprisingly strong, crushing them in an
intricate modified figure-eight pattern that looped my breasts and
went up and around my neck. The rope was tight. It made them stick
out. In no time, they were throbbing and turning dark. The clamps
still bit deeply into my raw and aching nipples, keeping them from
being stretched like the rest of my breasts. The gag only partially
muffled my constant moans. They were starting to hurt so bad I
almost longed for one of the Masters to break from my Master’s
preference of breast torment and punish something else for a
while.

But the merciless look in her eyes told me
she wouldn’t be that one, as she took hold of the clamp on my right
nipple. With a frigid grin, she twisted it savagely to the outside
and held it there. I was screaming behind the gag, trying to catch
my Master’s eye—seeking some kind of reassurance that he knew what
he was doing—when she pulled the clamp from my nipple.

Even the gag didn’t block my cry as the blood
rushed back in and it snapped back into place. Watching me watch
her, she slowly put her hand on the clamp on my left nipple. Her
smile was cold, relishing my reaction as she slowly turned her
wrist. Then, with a laugh straight out of the horror movies, she
twisted it more savagely that she had the first one. I tried not to
give her the pleasure of hearing me scream, but I
failed—miserably.

Still staring into my eyes, she yanked that
clothespin clamp free, too, letting the fresh blood burn. My
reaction was exactly the same as it had been before. Not once had
she looked at my breasts; her pleasure came solely from my
pain.

“You are lucky girl,” she whispered,. “yYour
Master made me promise. There is much more I would like to do to
you. Maybe the next time you disappoint him he’ll let me.”

If she tried to scare me, she failed.
Instead, all I thought about was the revelation that my Master had
been there the entire time, in control—just like he always was.
These people were just his hands. All the pain she had caused me
suddenly changed from cruel agony to magnificent torment. I felt my
belly clench, my pussy start to tingle, my burning nipples get hard
again.

After she sat back down, two male slaves came
and released me from the manacles. They half-dragged, half-carried
me to one of the St. Andrews crosses against the wall, where they
spread first my arms then my legs wide, tying them wide to the
rough wood. Though it scraped against my tender bottom, reminding
me of the whipping I’d all but forgotten in the heat of other
torment, my pussy was wet and throbbing. The ache in my loins was
deep. I became aware of just how wet I was, and that everyone could
see my need. Earlier, my embarrassment would have been
overwhelming, but I was mostly beyond that now.

While they were tying me up, another Master
went to The Toy Box. He came back to me with some things in his
hand, though I couldn’t see what they were. He knelt between my
legs and rubbed my clit with his finger. I was surprised, and my
body responded instantly. The pain in my breasts suddenly became
much more acute and pleasurable. He stroked my pussy lips then slid
three fingers into my throbbing box. He began to fuck me steadily
with his hand. My whole body became alive, and in a very short
time, I was ready to come.

I wondered if that was his game, to invite
even more punishment by making me have an orgasm without
permission. I fought with myself to hold it back and started crying
just as hard as I had before when I thought I couldn’t stop it.
Just as I was about to plead as best as I could for him to stop, he
did.

My whole body was trembling in its need, and
I could feel my juices trickling down my inner thighs. My breasts
throbbed, and my nipples hurt as much from being stiff with
excitement as much as from the punishment they had been dealt.
Smiling, he removed the gag from my mouth. It felt wonderful to be
able to close my mouth and aching jaws.

As if he had read my mind earlier, he left my
breasts alone. Instead, he bent between my legs again and attached
a clamp across each side of my clitoral hood. The clamps bit in
deeply, and it felt like the sharp teeth were slowly pushing
through the tender flesh. But even through the biting pain, the
clamps crushed my throbbing, engorged clit. I couldn’t stifle the
moan that escaped my lips as the pleasure countered the pain.

He attached a weight to each clamp, and I
couldn’t help but whimper as their full weight came to bear. The
clamps felt like they were biting through my hood, threatening the
tender nub beneath it. Not that it mattered. My pussy’s juices ran
down my legs in streams.

I was about to close my eyes when, to my
horror, the same sadistic Mistress stood and came forward with a
new drink in her hand. As if she hadn’t left, she took another
piece of ice from it. As expertly as before, she vigorously rubbed
first one nipple, then the other. The cold on my raw, mangled
nipples burned causing an ache deep into my breast. At first, the
weight dragging on my clit helped me cope, even with the sharp
biting that came with it.

My cries were constant, and I could tell she
loved them. I was bouncing on my toes, all but ready to break down
and beg her to stop as they started becoming numb. It was a deep,
scary cold, still painful, but now something more. Even then, she
kept rubbing ice on them until I could hardly feel anything but a
deep, cold throb.

Once she was satisfied, she sucked what
little ice remained into her mouth, chewing it loudly as she went
to the wall and took down a long, flat, black leather paddle. She
raised her arm and I closed my eyes, rolling my hips so the clamps
shook my throbbing clit.

She slapped the paddle first across one
nipple and then across the other. Pain like nothing I had never
felt before shot through my nipples and deep into my breasts. Even
though I knew the blows wouldn’t even leave marks like the whips
did, I had only thought what came before hurt.

She paddled my nipples several times each,
jarring my aching breasts as my cries echoed in the room. Yet,
through the agony, there seemed to be a direct line from the paddle
to my clit. I could feel the pressure building, pressure I wouldn’t
stop this time—no matter what the consequences.

Just as I was about to give in to the growing
pleasure, I saw my Master stand. Seeing him as well, the sadistic
Mistress stopped. Before he got to me, she again looking looked
into my eyes and gave each nipple one more hard whack. She walked
away, smiling genuinely at him as they passed.

“You’re right. She’s a special one, Daniel.
Let me know if you ever change your mind.”

Smiling at the comment, he bent and took each
clamp from my clit. I shrieked as each came off, but the pain
changed the moment I felt the pad of his thumb massaging me. I was
seconds from coming when he stood and gently swept my sweat soaked
hair from my face.

Were it not for the rope holding me to the
cross, I would have collapsed as he untied my now purple breasts
and blood flowed back into them. When he removed the ties from my
legs, I staggered and would have fallen had my tied arms not held
me up. The last thing he did was untie my arms, holding me as I
slid to the floor. Someone handed him a glass of water. He held it
to my lips and I tried to drink greedily. I had never been so
thirsty.