12 EMMA
Confusion and horror twine and twirl inside me as Dax fills the rolling table with various items I can’t bring myself to look at.
He starts by shaving my pussy, and I lie stiff and still, staring up at the ceiling until he’s done and I hear the crackle of latex gloves. Lifting my head, I watch as he disinfects my mound and labia, and my eyes must be blinking and moving wildly as the memory of getting the tattoo intrudes upon my mind.
“What are you doing?” I croak as he grabs a sterile package—that is not simply disinfectant wipes—and rips it open. The sight of a needle so thick I can see the hollow tunnel has me jerking against the restraints, whipping my head from side to side. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“Look at me,” Dax growls, slamming his palm onto my mound.
The shock knocks me out of the spiraling fear, and I breathe hard as I lift my head and stare at him.
“You don’t belong to yourself anymore,” he says with a fierce expression that shoves straight past my defenses, making his words seem like the most important thing in the world. “Your pussy is not yours to use, not yours to control, so I’m piercing it shut.”
My breathing speeds up to a shallow rhythm that sends a wave of dizziness to my brain.
“Say the words.” He tightens his hand, and sensation shudders through my nerves as the pressure draws through my clit. “I am a precious…”
I repeat and finish the sentence he has embedded deep into my brain. “I am a precious little submissive who is going to make my trainer very proud.”
“Good. Now, this will hurt, and it’s going to hurt for a while. But if you’d like, I can help you handle the pain. Would you like that?”
Confusion has me jerking my head as I say through bated breaths, “Yes, of course.”
He slides his hand down my newly shaven skin, dragging his index finger between my folds.
“Ah,” I gasp as he slides over my overly sensitive clit. It hasn’t been touched once since I came here, and it’s like a flare of fire. The sensations keep bursting into my nerve endings as he drags his finger along, and I pant as I stare at him with wide eyes. When his fingertip slides off my clit and he lifts it to start over, I remember I shouldn’t like any of this. “No, don’t touch me,” I say.
“It’s the only way to relieve the pain. I’m not gonna sedate you. I want you awake for this. So, do you want me to touch you or not?”
Once again, he has caught me in an impossible dilemma. If I agree, it will chip away at my self-respect, which is already fading; if I don’t agree, I’m facing hell. I’m not good with pain—never have been—and the mere idea of that needle is almost enough to hurl me straight back to the edge of panic.
“I can’t decide,” I say, once again baring myself with frightening clarity to the man who is my captor and soon to be my sexual perpetrator—or the man I unwillingly asked to touch me.
“Do you want me to decide how this goes for you?” he asks, surprisingly calm.
Biting my lip, I nod. It’s easier to live with myself if he forces it upon me.
“Are you gonna be a good little sub and do as I say then?”
I nod again.
“I want you to ask me nicely to touch your sweet little nub while I pierce your pussy shut, and when I’m done, I want you to thank me for making sure you can’t touch what doesn’t belong to you.”
“No! That’s not—” I stare at him in outrage, feeling deceived.
He lifts an eyebrow. “That’s not fair? You said you wanted me to decide how this goes, and this is how I want it.”
I shake my head, wanting to scream, but his words keep swirling in my mind. A good little sub. Wanting to please. Doing what he says.
I don’t want to do this, yet all my instincts scream for me to obey as I watch him, melting beneath his demanding stare and losing myself to make room for his dominance.
He presses a finger to the spot right above my clit. Fire bursts through my nerves at that little touch, heating the place that has been numb and cold for days. It’s like he has lit a spark, and that spark keeps growing as he shoves his way past my defenses.
A tremor has me twitching against the restraints, making me all too aware of the straps. They’re everywhere. Around my stomach, under my chest, over my arms, and over my legs. Gripping tight against my skin. I can’t move anything besides my outermost extremities and my head. Because he doesn’t want me to.
“You don’t belong to yourself,” he says softly, punctuating the message going through my brain.
I sink into the chair, my muscles going loose and pliant. “I don’t belong to myself,” I say so weakly the words barely leave my mouth.
But he hears it, and a smile softens his hard features. “No, you don’t. And now you’re gonna say what I want to hear.”
“Please touch me,” I whisper, and in that moment, there’s nothing I want more. I want to feel his touch down there. I want him to exert his devastating control over me as he ignites my desire. And maybe I even want him to pierce my pussy shut.
I don’t know; I don’t care. I can’t think as he slides a finger over my clit, drawling, “Good girl.”
A long breath shudders past my lips, and I press my lower body into the restraints, seeking more.
He rubs circles around my clit at a dreadfully slow pace. Sparks of electricity shoot through my sensitive bundle of nerves, into my pussy, and out through my body. An explosive desire awakens within me. It’s like I’ve never been touched before. And maybe I haven’t. Because Dax’s touch is like nothing else.
When he stops, my eyes are closed, head leaning back, and I groan as the straps keep me from seeking more.
“Greedy little sub.” He pinches my outer lips, and I relax my hips at the feeling of his touch. But a sharp flare of pain breaks me into a sudden wail. My eyes dart open. I whip my head up to see Dax pull the gigantic needle through my labia. My breath comes in frantic, shallow gusts as the room spins around me at a staggering speed.
“Look at me,” Dax demands, leaning in to catch my gaze. “Breathe.”
I pant through rounded lips as I watch him. The steady look in his eyes that demands my attention becomes the only thing keeping me from spiraling.
“That’s it. Now slowly.” He draws in air through rounded lips, lifting his brows to spur me on. The air staggers past my lips but quickly shoots out. “One more time.” He repeats his demonstrative inhale, and this time, I manage to hold on to the air until he exhales. “Good girl. Keep breathing for me.”
He leans back and inserts a ring through the hole he just made. I groan at the sharp sensation, but the sound morphs into a moan as he presses his thumb to my clit. He rubs slow circles with just the right pressure, and pleasure bursts through my body, exploding and crackling like fireworks—a full display of vivid colors after only having seen barren gray for days. My moans come from deep within my belly, more free than ever before as I press my hips into the restraints, seeking more of his touch. I need… just a little more to throw me over the edge. A finger inside me or maybe just a few strokes through my lips. Any added sensation will throw me over.
When he releases my clit, I’m so deep in the throes of ecstasy that I don’t realize what he’s doing until it’s too late. Another sharp bolt of pain shoots through my sensitive folds. With a plaintive cry, I crash straight onto the edge of panic—from one edge to another. My labia throbs, and the knowledge that there’s now one more hole through it has my mind spinning out of control.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I press my head into the seat and scream again. I vaguely hear Dax’s voice somewhere in the distance, but I’m stuck in a state of alarm that only keeps building as I writhe and push against the restraints without getting anywhere.
Footsteps sound against stone, and then a bare hand is on my forehead, a demanding voice right in front of me. “Look at me!”
Whipping my head toward the sound, I look up, snap my eyes shut, and look again as I pant with a speed that burns my lungs.
“Breathe,” Dax commands.
I suck in a large gulp of air, pant some more, and inhale sharply again.
“Breathe,” he repeats more softly, and his long hair tickles my cheek as he leans in to stroke my damp forehead. “Just breathe through it. The pain has already faded.”
I take stock of my body. He’s right. There’s only a dull throbbing down there. But I can still feel the hole—and the other hole with the ring. It’s wrong. So very wrong. I rip at my arms and jerk my chest up, needing to get free like I need air.
“Look at me.” Dax shoves my shoulders into the padded seat and leans so close I can feel his hot breath on my lips. “Do you want to make me proud?”
I don’t even think. I just nod like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Then just breathe. It’s all you have to do. Breathe and listen to my voice.”
His words are like déjà vu. I remember when he came into my cell and lay with me when I had a nightmare. He wrapped me up in warmth and told me to breathe and listen. He got me through the panic. Safe and steady.
I glance back and forth between his stark blue eyes, which feel like they can penetrate the very barriers of my soul and take everything in there and make it his. It scares me to the bone, yet soothes my shaken core. I want to swim in his steady power and disappear in those eyes.
“Good girl,” he says, releasing one of my shoulders to stroke my cheek, and I realize I have stopped panting. “Can you be a good little sub and stay calm as I attach the ring?”
“Yes,” I say as I let his praise seep in and loosen my tight muscles.
Dax returns to his stool, puts on new gloves, and guides my breathing as he inserts the next ring.
Once the ring is in, he returns his ministrations to my clit, circling and rubbing with a maddening pressure that sends jolts of electricity through my core. I don’t think I’ve ever been this aroused. My entire body is awake, my skin humming as waves of heat shoot through me. I moan and pant, clenching and unclenching my hands as the sensations coil deep within my belly. This time, I don’t even think I need that extra touch; I just need him to keep going and I’ll reach the peak.
But just as I hover on the edge, about to fall over, he removes his hand. A sharp prick sends a shockwave through my body and cuts off the orgasm.
“No, no, no!” I cry. But it’s not because of the needle. It’s the painful need. The feeling of being robbed penniless after having won a million bucks. Little jolts of pleasure keep shooting through me as I hover so close to a climax. Sweat beads on my brow, and my voice is breathy as I plead with Dax. “Please, make me come. I need to come. Please. Just…”
“Shh,” is his only response, and I press my head back with a groan as he inserts the piercing.
Then the whole ordeal starts over: Dax driving me to the edge of the peak, cutting off my orgasm with the needle, and inserting a new piercing.
It goes on and on forever. Eight rings. By the time he’s done, my skin is slick with sweat, exhaustion threatens to steal my consciousness, and my joints ache from all the straining and bucking.
“All done,” Dax says once the eighth ring is in. Discarding the gloves, he rolls back to take in the vision. “Beautiful,” he says with a strange kind of reverence as he grazes the side of my pussy with a soft touch that sends another wave of sparks and electricity through my heated body. “Unfortunately, I can’t close them yet. They’ll need some healing time. So I’ll have to keep you chained in your cell until I can close this pussy up tight.”
“I-I need more,” I stutter, barely hearing what he’s saying. My pussy is throbbing with an urge that overrides everything else. I just need that little bit to push me over the edge and grant me sweet relief.
“Not today.” Dax pats the inside of my thigh, then starts unbuckling the straps.
“But you can’t just…” I stare at him dumbfoundedly. “I need… more.” My voice trails off as exhaustion clouds the world and my words.