BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Chapter 63

Beth was shaking with need and anticipation. Hearing him talk about what he would do, how he would use and play with her, was enough to have her muscles tight with anticipation.

When he pulled his hands back, her left nipple was a hard pink bud, standing up bravely, if foolishly, from her breast.

Master James held the clothespin near her breast in a vertical position, the open mouth poised on either side of her nipple. Beth’s breath shuttered with delicious dread at the pain that was to come.

He released the clothespin, letting it snap closed on the very tip of her breast. Beth yelped, nails digging into his legs through the fabric of his slacks.

Pain radiated from the tip of her breast, causing her to wince even as the feeling shot down to her pussy.

“Don’t fight it. Give in. You can’t stop it, you can’t change it. All you can do is accept it. Know that I want it—I want to see your nipple pink and tight and pinched in the clothespin.”

His words triggered something in her and Beth started to shake, her breath catching in her throat as her pussy spasmed. It was almost as if…

As if she were going to come.

Her eyes, which she’d squeezed shut, snapped open. Beth met Master James’s gaze. Even if he hadn’t silenced her with the clothespin on her tongue, she wouldn’t have known what to say, how to explain that she might have been about to orgasm from a combination of the physical pleasure-pain of the clothespin and the emotional pleasure of his domination.

His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed.

With her eyes open she saw him pick up the other clothespin, watch him bring it to her unadorned breast. He plucked her nipple for a few seconds before quickly applying the clothespin.

down, teeth making the clothespin dig into her tongue, the ache from

her, one hand around her neck, the other pressing against her trembling stomach. His touch grounded her, stopped her from shaking apart, at the same time it added another layer to

closed lips. Her whole body was moving from the force of her labored breaths. Each trembling breath made the clothespins on her breasts dance, and the faint breeze

cut off her air, but enough that she could not ignore that she was his—owned, possessed, controlled. She suffered because he wanted it. She ached

the clothespins to knead each breast, increasing the circulation and preventing her tightly held

to come for me. You’re going to come from having those

head, skull thumping his thighs. She wasn’t able to come simply because a Dom demanded she do so. Even

me disappoint

it’s ready. The only

bumped over her nipples, catching the barely exposed tips in an exquisitely precise touch reminiscent

fail. I will not let you disobey my

not let me

come, believed that her body would obey him even when her head couldn’t make sense of

worrying, stopped thinking

lifting, offering her naked, wet

longer distinctly pleasure or pain, but something greater than both—zipped through her.

both pins in

“Come for me.”

clothespins free. She had only enough time to inhale before shock waves of acute pain danced through

let out a small sob, her arms tensing with the

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