82. Jude
Jude
“HOW MUCH IS THIS GOING TO HURT?”
Irelease her from the chains. But not for the reason she thinks.
I need her utterly immobile.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she asks, shuddering.
“If you recall, I saved one final day for free rein over your lovely tits.”
I hinted at using it over the holiday. I fully intended to give myself a too-tempting Christmas gift.
Despite how Vincent and I just took her, I get harder when remembering the day I treated us all to her luscious breasts. Briella had to walk around all day with her gorgeous tits out while letting us do whatever we wanted to them, provided it wasn’t harmful.
Of course, Rory had to use the little nipple vices on her. And he’s the tit slapper and flogger of us. Seth simply enjoyed licking her tits until she climaxed without any touch to her pussy. Even Vincent didn’t deny himself a fondling or two.
I used the forceps on her again.
Most magnificent of all was when I bound her to the bed and used the breast pumps on her.
I lounged on my nearby leather chair and read smut to her, helping her to associate the device with sex and pleasure beyond their primary purpose.
A way of reclaiming what was done to her.
Her arousal dripped onto the bed for a good five to ten minutes.
Once they were good and puffy red, I removed them and licked her nipples and her soaking wet pussy until I’d shattered her.
She had several breast orgasms that glorious day.
“I assure you, Briella…” I cup her chin, lifting her face to mine. She melts against me, arching her back and throat in longing. “I am a doctor and know exactly what I am doing and how to apply this, so to speak.”
“W-what do you want to do, Jude?” Her lower lip quivers when I rub my thumb along it. And then, my thumb descends until I cup her breast.
“Tonight?” I level her with my dominance. “I am piercing these.”
It doesn’t take much to restrain her.
She thrashes with fear-induced adrenaline. I love how she claws at me like a wild thing. It reminds me of the first time I’d hauled her over my shoulder when she beat her fists against my back. How annoyingly adorable.
Her body is slick with sweat, lashes clumped with tears, but it doesn’t stop me. It never does. I don’t want her calm. Not yet. I want her raw. Responsive. Beautifully on the brink.
Her chest lurches as I secure the final metal strap across her ankle.
Every limb restrained. Arms stretched above her head, wrists locked in place by the heavy steel rings attached to the overhead bar.
Her legs are parted wide, knees cranked open and held in position by the cold, mechanical stirrups of the chair I specially commissioned for moments like these.
A gynecologist’s chair. Another reclaiming.
She fumes through her nose, but this is another experience I’m taking her through, another trial by fire.
I click the neck collar closed last. It forces her to look straight ahead, unable to avert her gaze. Vulnerable. Helpless. Mine.
Tonight, I’m taking her trauma, bonding it to me. Tonight, she will associate it with the beautiful piercings I’ve chosen for her.
Her pupils dilate. Fear, yes. But not only that. I read the desire in them. I glance down, smiling at the sight of her pussy creaming itself.
I reach for the prepared tray. Sterile tools gleam under the dim dungeon lights.
Her gasp is sharp. She pulls at the restraints—instinct, not thought—but they don’t budge. She’s completely at my mercy, and we both know it.
She growls, the sound feral. “You’re a sick, twisted fuck, Judas.”
I hum in agreement while swabbing her breasts with antiseptic. “Perhaps. But I’m your sick, twisted fuck. As we all are.”
My brothers gather around. Except for Raphael, who remains against the cold wall, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. My partner is soaking everything in from this night. Despite his front, I know it overwhelms him. None of us believed we would be here again.
But every single cock is hard, including his.
Rory hugs his elbows on her right-hand side with that sadistic smirk. “Would ye like some meat to distract yourself, Firecracker?”
“Go to hell,” she snaps back.
When Seth tries to stroke her hair, she screeches and snaps at him. He merely stares at her sweetly, adoringly.
Her nipples are already taut, practically begging for it.
“How much is this going to hurt?” she asks, pouting, and the sight shoots more arousal through me.
I pinch both nipples between my gloved fingers, gauging them, feeling her twitch. “On a scale of one to ten, considering your unique sensitivity…nine.”
She groans, and it pitches into a breathy snarl when I flick one nipple again. Her whole body shivers in the chair. She’s incandescent like this—fighting it and aching for it all at once.
I clamp the first nipple. She yelps, jerking against the cuffs, but they hold. Good. I need her completely still.
“If you move again,” I say calmly, “I’ll tell Rory he can hold you down. You want that?”
He steps forward, bobbing his brows.
“Fuck you.”
Still, she quiets. I place a leather strip in her mouth, protecting her teeth.
Then, I cleanly slide the needle through. Her scream is wild, furious, and exquisite. The leather falls for her curses. “Fucking HELL, you doctor dickhead! SHIT—SHITyoumotheroffuckingFUCK!”
She’s so goddamn alive when she’s like this.
I thread the titanium barbell through with precision, secure it, and admire my work.
“One down.”
She pants, chest heaving, eyes wet and blazing. Vincent shifts beside me, engaged with everything I’m doing. But when he steps closer to her, she bares her teeth at him like an animal, and he wisely moves back.
“Distract her,” I direct Seth without glancing up. “Make her forget what’s coming.”
He doesn’t hesitate. Our eager timber wolf.
She gasps as he lowers to his knees between her thighs. Her curses dissolve into a desperate sound when his tongue meets her clit. My girl is dripping already—her body knows what she needs even when her mind’s rebelling.
“Oh, fuck—Seth—!”
I prep the second nipple. Alcohol swab, clamp, angle.
“I hate you,” she gasps, voice raw from over-stimulation. “Hate all of you.”
“I know,” I reply softly.
“You’re pure evil.”
“Can’t argue.”
I nod to Vincent, who secures the leather strap again.
And then I drive the second needle through.
Her scream is even louder this time. Guttural. Animal. Now, the leather drops. “Jude! You smug prick! I hope a goddamn clown gives you a prostate exam!”
I chuff a laugh, then carefully thread the barbell in and adjust it.
She’s panting, sweat-drenched, and shaking, but her hips are rolling into Seth’s mouth now, seeking more. Her body is alight with pain and lust and something else. Acceptance. Ownership.
Seth doesn’t stop. He licks like he’s starving. And pumps his fingers in and out of her. She moans, a raw, beautiful sound that stabs straight through my chest. Tears slip down her temples, and I brush them away as her orgasm mounts.
Her whole body tenses, then convulses around Seth’s fingers as she shrieks, her back arching in the chair like a crucifixion of ecstasy.
And in her post-orgasmic haze, with her clit perfectly swollen and plump for my intentions, I reach for a fresh set of gloves. “One last addition,” I murmur, watching the horror dawn across her face. “A vertical hood piercing. Both for aesthetics…and to make you even more responsive.”
Her breath stutters. “Jude,” she whispers, a tremble threading through her. “No. You’re not putting anything through there—”
I silence her with a gentle touch to her thigh. “Babydoll, your anatomy is ideal. Clean lines, minimal tissue, excellent vascularity. You’ll thank me every time someone so much as breathes on your clit.”
“No—fuck you, you egotistical prick—”
But the moment the antiseptic hits her folds, she gasps, back arching against the chair. I spread her gently, my fingers steady, clinical, reverent. Her clit is already swollen from Seth’s teasing, slick and flushed with blood.
“Hold still.” I clip the sterilized receiving tube around the hood. “You’ll only feel a pinch.”
She screams. A brutal, raw sound that cracks through the dungeon as I drive the needle through and slide the jewelry into place in one smooth, practiced motion.
“You absolute motherfucking bastard—!” she sobs, writhing in her bonds, eyes squeezed shut, a tear streaking down her cheek.
And yet, I see it—the way her legs tremble, the flush of heat spreading from her chest to her thighs, not just from pain…but from something desperate.
I fasten the ball, admire my work, and press a cool kiss to her trembling thigh. “Beautiful. You’ll feel everything sharper now. Every flick. Every stroke. Every denial.”
Hell, she could stumble up the stairs, and it would trigger an orgasm. She deserves every damn one. And it fills me with pride to know my hand, nor any other, will need to touch her for her to get off. But anytime she does, I’ll smirk with pride. Because my hand has set it in motion.
The second I work one finger inside her and kiss her, she clamps down on my finger—unable to battle the pain and pleasure endorphins surging through her. God, what a sight she is, her pussy squelching, squeezing around my finger while her moans echo in my mouth.
Once she comes down, I hold her jaw gently and kiss her brow. “That’s my good girl. All done.”
But my job isn’t over.
“The titanium barbells will stay in for at least six months—no exceptions,” I draw the line while I inspect the piercings.
“Twice daily cleanings with saline. No twisting. No touching with unwashed hands. No tight bras. No swimming. No friction unless you want to tear the healing tissue and start from scratch.”
“Oooh,” Rory calls from across the room. “So that means we get more days with her pretty tits hanging out?”
She growls again. “Fuck you, Red.”
“No touching,” I say sharply. My voice slices through the post-orgasm haze. “That includes no licking, sucking, biting, clamping, or toys. These are mine until healed. No exceptions.”
“Ye ruin all my fun, Doc.”
I ignore him, cupping Briella’s flushed face and smoothing a sweat-soaked curl behind her ear. “That includes you, Babydoll. No enthusiastic fondling. Mild showers. I’ll supervise your recovery personally.”
She glares at me. “Hate you.”
I kiss her again.
And just like that, her head tips, spine arches, and she melts into the straps. Good.
One kiss is all it takes to annihilate her, and she’s back to arching and swooning for me.
“Fine.” She blows steam through her nostrils. “I love you.”
Damn.