Chapter 12
She could do nothing but pant and moan as Nathan softened his touches. Licking the teeth marks he’d left in her tit and switching to pricking the sides and top of her breast, giving her abused nipple a break.
She felt hot and shivery, every inch of her skin hypersensitive, not just her bound, pricked breasts. Nathan was merciless, in the best way possible.
His movements were faster, though he was still thorough—making sure every inch of that breast felt the sharp poke of the pins. The speed felt like impatience, and her sex agreed it was time to hurry up and get to fucking.
Tara was too deep in both her submission and her arousal to care about the embarrassing, mewling noises she was making, or the way she was grinding her sore ass against his hard thigh.
“You’re taking this so well.” Nathan’s hands on her hips eased her away until she was no longer leaning on him.
Tara watched him through her lashes as he moved the stool to the side, stepped back, and shook out the tails of the flogger he now held.
“Tara.” His voice was gentle. “I’m going to flog your breasts, and then crop your nipples.”
Tara whined in need and fear, swaying on her feet. Her vision was blurry, so she blinked away the tears, wiping her cheeks on her upraised arms.
“I don’t expect you to count.” Nathan reached out to palm one breast, fondling her possessively even as his words soothed. “All you need to do is accept it, and tell me if anything hurts too much, or if you can’t feel the strikes.”
Tara nodded.
“No. Tell me you understand.”
“Yes, Nathan.”
“I want to hear it.” He switched to gently squeezing the other breast, thumb idly rubbing her flat nipple.
“You’re going to flog my breasts,” she panted. “Then you’re going to crop my nipples. And I’m going to tell you if it’s too much.”
“Good girl.”
Nathan brushed each nipple with one finger in turn before shifting back several feet. He raised his arm and she traced the length of his arm to his hand, gaze skittering down the soft black falls of the flogger. He started working the flogger in the air, using only his wrist, the rest of his arm steady, his knees slightly bent.
He swished it through the air a few times before starting a rhythmic, repetitive motion. The falls traced an infinity symbol in the air.
It was almost hypnotic.
Nathan stopped just as she’d fallen under the spell of the steady movement, his arm dropping to his side. Tara stiffened as she looked at him.
Nathan’s head was down, a faint line between his brows. He looked tall and strong in the candlelight, the muted shine of the leather causing faint highlights along the swells of his pectoral muscles.
Neither of them was fully naked, though the straps and thin piece of latex over her pussy weren’t much coverage. She wanted him naked. Want to feel his big, warm body against her, skin to skin.
But his expression made her stomach clench with anxiety.
He looked upset, or maybe disappointed. He looked like he was going to walk away.
“Nathan.”
Only his head turned, coming up just enough so he met her gaze.
“Nathan, please. Don’t go.”
The frown disappeared, his eyes soft. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
He closed the distance between them, and she got what she wanted, his body flush to hers, leather warm against her bare skin. His arm around her back pressed her bound breasts to his chest. The tight bands of tape squeezed as he held their bodies together.
She was bound and helpless…by choice.
Her body his plaything to mold and torment…because she gave him that power.
With his forearm still pressing against her back, Nathan tangled a hand in her hair, tipping her face up.
His lips sealed against hers. The kiss was leisurely, his parted lips barely moving as his tongue touched the seam of her mouth, then ventured in when she opened submissively under him.
The hand in her hair tightened, and she sucked in air as pain lit up her scalp. Just another sensation to go with the throbbing in her abused, trapped breasts, the fainter heat in her ass.
Those sensations were pale in comparison to her vibrant, desperate arousal. She could feel her heartbeat in her sex. Each beat echoed by a pulse of need in her swollen, wet flesh.
Tara was trapped and achy, unable to even move her head as he continued the soft kiss so at odds with the way he held her and what he’d done to her breasts.
But the best of all this was the kiss. He tasted…right.
Nathan finally lifted his lips from hers. Their gazes met for only a moment before he yanked, forcing her head farther back until she felt the stretch along the front of her neck. She stared up at her bound wrists as he scraped his teeth along her throat.
Finally he placed a gentle kiss on each breast before testing the temperature of her flesh with the back of his hand.
Taking several steps back, he raised the flogger.
The first strike kissed the top of her left breast on a downstroke. A second later, a matching blow slapped against the top of her right breast.
The flogger was too soft for a sting, and instead hit with a soft thud that was almost a tap.
For one wild moment, she thought about begging him for more. Asking him to strike her breasts harder.
She was at the point in the scene where she would agree to anything. It was a dangerous place to be, but she was safe with him. Her dominant emotion was a keening need and desperate arousal. A need to be touched and used. A desperation to feel her body stretched around his cock—any hole.
But the part of her that was still rational and knew that she was in a compromised headspace trusted Nathan the way she’d never trusted a partner before.
She could beg him to mark her, hurt her, and he wouldn’t take it too far.
She could beg him to degrade and abuse her, but he wouldn’t, because he’d know it would leave too-deep emotional scars.
Nathan’s wrist twirled the flogger in a steady, relentless rhythm, whipping her aching, sore tits.
Tap, tap, tap.
It struck the top of her breasts with each downstroke. The touch that had felt too soft began to ache from the repetition, the falls constantly striking the same spot.
“You’re taking it beautifully.” Nathan transferred the flogger to his other hand, shaking out his wrist.
“Thank you, Nathan,” she breathed, not sure how loud or softly she might be talking, thanks to the thrumming sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.
“I’m going to work the undersides, and then I’ll crop your nipples and we’ll be done.”
Tara made another humiliating, mewling sound of fear and need.
Once more, the flogger swung through the air in a sideways figure eight, but this time, he caught her breasts on the upswing. Her tight, swollen breasts bobbed with each strike. The falls licked up the underside of her tits, the sensation more spread out than it had been on the top. Again and again, he flogged her, warming her skin and ensuring she felt helpless, abused, and treasured.
Tara swayed, rocking her weight from foot to foot, but Nathan moved with her, his own knees bent, gaze focused on her breasts.
He paused, reaching out to touch her breasts with the back of his hand. Cupping one firm, round tit, he gently stroked her nipple with his thumb. “Last six.”
She arched into his hand, chasing the pleasure of his soft touch, but also offering herself to him—six more or sixty more, she was his to use. “Yes, Nathan.”
Her breasts bounced as he increased the intensity and struck her hard, the previously dull slapping sound louder and sharper than it had been. Tara pressed her face into her upper arm, panting out hot, wet air. She counted silently as he landed the final strikes, each hard enough that she jumped and jerked, whimpering softly.
The flogger clattered to the floor.
“Beautiful.” Nathan once more pressed the back of his hand to each breast in turn, before striding to the other side of the room.
Tara looked down at her breasts. They were patches of reddened flesh on the top of her already darker than normal, taut tits.
A sharp, concentrated snap of pain on her ass made her dance forward until her shoulders protested having her arms stretch up and back.
Nathan rounded to her front, a short crop dangling from one hand. The spot on her ass that he’d just cropped stung, and she tugged helplessly at her arms, wanting to rub it.
“Felt that, did you?” He grinned.
Tara tried to shoot him a doleful look, but she was too deep for banter. Her gaze snapped to the crop.
About the length of his forearm, there was nothing particularly special about it—black, with a folded leather keeper at the tip. The keeper was shorter than what would be normal on an actual crop or jumping bat, but very standard for a human-use impact-play toy.
The tip of the crop notched under her chin, tipping her face up. “I can see you thinking. Talk.”
“Did you know the folded bit at the end of the crop is called a keeper?” Her own voice echoed oddly in her ears, though she held his gaze.
Nathan’s lips twitched. “I didn’t. Why do you know that?”
“Research.”
“Hmm.” He traced her collarbones with the crop, the leather cool, almost cold. Goose bumps broke out along her upper chest and arms. “Are you maybe focusing on that because you’re nervous about having your nipples cropped?”
Tara breathed deep, the air feeling almost sensual as it brushed over her lips, and that caress made her pussy clench.
She was aroused to the point of madness.
“No,” she said finally. “I’m thinking about what the tip of a crop is called to keep myself from begging you to do unspeakable things to me.”
Nathan stepped in, not close enough to press their bodies together but close enough to run his hand up and down her side from armpit to thigh. “At that point where everything, even things on your hard limit list, are starting to sound good?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s time to finish this.” He looked at her with something like regret. “I won’t be gentle, just because you’re you.”
Before she could digest that sentence, he stepped to the side, then gripped the base of her right breast with his left hand, holding her just in front of the tape.
Her skin felt swollen and tight, the added pressure from his fingers almost painful. Her nipples were completely flat, and her areolas looked massive. Nathan rubbed her nipple with the tip of the crop, and pleasure slid through her.
Then he lifted the crop, and with a flick of his wrist brought the tip down right on her nipple. Sharp precise pain and a dark, taboo pleasure burned through her already abused nipple.
Tara shrieked, trying to back up, but he was holding her by the tit. With terrifying precision, Nathan did it again. Swinging the crop out to the side, then snapping it forward, the shaft parallel to the floor. The motion of his wrist might have been small, but thanks to physics—fucking physics—the end of the crop was moving fast. The flat pad of folded leather snapped against her nipple.
Pain pulsed and spiked through her, the sensation now unequivocally pain. She couldn’t hold still but also couldn’t move. Couldn’t get away from him.
Three more times he cropped her helpless nipple. Tara’s nipple felt like it was on fire, the pain so intense that she was crying softly and almost ready to ask him, tell him, to stop.
After the fifth strike, he leaned in and kissed her nipple softly, then soothed it with a single swipe of his tongue.
Then the merciless man switched to her left breast.
Once more, he petted and stroked her taut, flat nipple with the crop. Knowing what was coming, how much this would hurt, make the waiting worse.
He snapped the leather against her helpless flesh, the short, sharp sound preceding the stinging pain by a fraction of a thought.
Tara cried out, then clenched her teeth, her sex pulsing both in time with her heartbeat and in sync with the strikes of the crop.
Three more times he cropped her nipple, relentless and deliciously cruel.
“Last one. Then you’re going to come for me and show me exactly how much you like being played with like this.”
The final word, spoken in a low voice that was both familiar and foreign, had barely faded before he snapped the crop against her nipple one final time.
Tara screamed, a sound of pain and wild frustration.
There was a soft clatter as the crop hit the floor, and then his hands were on her. His fingers stroked and soothed her burning nipple before pinching gently as his other hand tangled in her hair, holding her head still for his kiss.
He claimed her mouth the way he’d claimed her tits. Her mouth belonged to him. This was savage and demanding compared to the last kiss. He still tasted faintly sweet from the hard cider, and she could tell herself the alcohol was why her head was spinning.
His hand abandoned her breast before tracing patterns down her belly, his hand finally sliding between her legs.
Desperate, Tara stepped wide. She knew she was a hot, sloppy mess. Knew he could probably feel the heat radiating off her pussy even before his hands made contact with the slick latex gusset.
Nathan’s fingers traced the seam of her sex, pressing the latex between her pussy lips. Deep enough that his blunt fingertips bumped over her clit.
Her hips jerked, pleasure spiking through the lingering pain. She was so aroused that even with the muting effect of the latex, his touch was almost painful.
“You’re hot for me,” he growled in her ear. “Are you wet?”
“Yes, Nathan, yes,” she whimpered.
He dropped his head into the cradle of space made by her neck, shoulder, and raised arm. Between her thighs, one blunt finger slid away from her clit toward her entrance. He pressed up, fingertip forcing the latex tighter between her pussy lips. Almost as if he would force the material into her.
The latex tore with a pop, and his thick finger jammed up inside her, the penetration shocking and sudden.
She gasped, back arching.
And she came.
Hours of being disciplined and played with had brought her to the edge, and having him tear through her latex panties and drive that finger up into her was enough to push her over the edge.
Tara bore down, teeth clenched as the orgasm caused every muscle in her body to tighten. Her pussy clamped frantically on his finger, which felt shockingly thick and yet not thick enough.
The pleasure was almost its own pain—the release of tension like having a skilled masseuse dig their fingers into a muscle knot and force it to relax.
With the pleasure ebbed, she went limp. She relaxed into the post-orgasm relief, but it was short-lived. Her body still throbbed with need, and she had the horrible thought that she might never get enough of Nathan’s touch.
That she might spend the rest of her life wanting him.