Chapter 12 Monroe #2
I look up at him from my subjugated position.
Saliva fills my mouth at the sight of his strained erection.
The memory of his taste when I sucked him dry a few weeks ago causes more saliva to build and drool shamelessly spills over my lower lip.
He pushes down his boxer briefs and kicks them aside as he fists the base of his cock, positioning himself mere inches from my face.
I inhale his heady scent as I visualize his thick cock breaching my entrance.
My pussy throbs in response, desperate for his girth.
Before I can register the movement, he taps my cheek with the side of his cock, then reels it back and slaps me with its length. It doesn’t hurt, but still I wince.
“As much as I want to fuck your mouth and spray your face with my cum,” he rasps from above, “it seems I need to teach these deviant hands of yours a lesson.”
He steps back, and I hear the pull of the chain through the metal loop. My hands rise, then arms, then, when the pull at my shoulder sockets begins to feel painful, I push to my feet.
I glance up at my arms overhead. A flicker of thought crosses my mind, and I wonder how long I can have my arms like this before they go completely numb.
“Oh, you know what?” Kieren asks rhetorically, although it’s not like I could answer with a ball gag in my mouth. “I almost forgot your blindfold.”
Soft silk fabric covers my eyes a second later, and the sensory deprivation makes my pussy ache.
Kieren’s thumb brushes against my left nipple before rolling it between his thumb and forefinger with a level of restraint that can only mean the worst is yet to come.
A clipped moan bubbles up my throat a moment later when I feel the intense squeeze of the nipple clamp.
It takes several labored breaths to ease into the pain.
Somehow, once the second nipple clamp is in place and the pain is evenly distributed between my two breasts, the intensity is more tolerable.
The nipple clamps start vibrating, and the sensation spiderwebs across my chest and down my abdomen.
“Oh God,” I moan against the gag, although I’m sure the words sounded more like garbled cries.
Without warning, the vibration ratchets to the point of being unbearable, and I scream like a pig headed for slaughter. Kieren chuckles like a man possessed as the intensity returns to the original level. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I heave through my nose.
“If you’re going to beg for mercy, Monroe, you better make sure it’s my name that leaves your lips.”
I growl my displeasure against the gag.
“Oh, I’m just getting started, puppy,” Kieren says with an unnerving huff of a laugh.
“Since you seem to think you can come without my permission, we’re going to play a game.” My body goes rigid when I hear the word ‘game,’ because Kieren’s definition of game usually revolves around his favorite theme of ‘how much pain can Monroe’s body take?’
Fingers wrap around my left ankle. “Lift up your leg.”
I do my best to follow his instructions without losing balance.
With my wrists bound and pulled taught over my head, I can’t topple to the floor, but I’d like to avoid awkwardly flapping around like a fish strung on a line.
The sole of my foot connects with skin, and I visualize it propped on the top of Kieren’s shoulder.
The stretched position spreads my labia, and I feel the cool waft of air against my exposed pussy.
“Good girl,” he praises, running the smooth palm of his hand up and down my calf in a slow, soothing motion. “Do you know what I see from this vantage point, Monroe?”
I could wager what I expect would be an accurate guess, but instead, I shake my head like a good submissive.
“I see your greedy, pink little pussy and it’s soaked. It’s begging to be fucked.”
A stream of warm air flutters between my legs, and the scant stimulation is enough to elicit a quiver.
“Goddamn, your pussy is already swollen, Monroe. You were such a good girl to deny yourself while I was gone. Is my puppy ready to begin the game, or shall we give her more time?”
I’m unsure if he’s expecting me to acknowledge this question or if he’s having a one-sided conversation with himself again, but I nod my head regardless.
“The rules are simple.”
A faint humming noise permeates the bedroom.
“You don’t come until I say you can come.”
His smooth thumb at my apex pulls my labia further apart.
“Because I’ll know if you do,” he says in an unhinged sing-song voice that’s an octave higher than his usual pitch.
“Because I’ll see it,” he says, switching his voice to a guttural growl. A rough tug at my clit makes me whimper.
“And I’ll smell it.” Another tug.
“If one drop of cum leaves your tight cunt without my permission, you’ll spend the entire night in a cage. Am I clear?”
I have no idea what he means by ‘cage’, but I nod vigorously as my entire body shakes.
The words “let’s begin” are all the warning I get before my back arches on instinct at the firm sensation of a wand vibrating against my clit.
A muffled cry bubbles up my throat because it feels like the vibration from the clamps and the vibration from the wand have joined forces, meeting deep within my core and are rumbling down my channel with the force of a thousand tidal waves.
It mercilessly pounds for a few seconds, then stops, and I’m left with an indescribable feeling of anguish, like my orgasm is stuck inside me, blocked by an invisible obstacle. My stomach cramps, and I wonder if this is the female equivalent of blue balls.
Again, three seconds of pounding followed by what feels like an eternity of agony. I plead against the gag.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, puppy, if you want to come. Tell me, who owns you?”
I don’t know why I withhold the answer I know he wants to hear.
“Who fucking owns you, Monroe?” he shouts, holding the wand millimeters below my clit. The flutter of pulsing air against my sensitive flesh is agonizing.
“You,” I attempt to scream. Drool runs down my chin, but I don’t care.
“Not fast enough, puppy,” he scolds, pressing the wand true.
I crest, then stop. Crest, then stop. Each round of stimulation edges me closer and closer.
Each time, Kieren repeats the question, “Who owns you?” Each time, I scream the answer he wants against the gag, tugging down on the wrist restraints even though I know it’s fruitless.
The denial is agonizing, and I feel like I might pass out.
If it weren’t for the blindfold, I’m convinced I would see bursts of black around the corners of my vision, like I do when I stand up too quickly because, of course, I’ve turned out to be a pain junkie who also has an iron deficiency.
Both my core and stomach scream for release, and just as I decide I’m going to give in to my orgasm during the next round, regardless of the consequences, the tension holding my wrists above my head disappears, and my elevated foot drops.
I collapse against Kieren like I don’t have a solid bone in my body.
His cool hands atop my molten skin roughly position me chest-down, causing the nipple clamps to scrape against the hard floor.
Blood rushes into my numb arms, now stretched in front of me.
A forceful yank has my ass in the air, the clamp around my clit is removed, and before I can gather myself, the crown of Kieren’s thick cock is at my entrance, slamming inside me a heartbeat later.
Immediately on impact, I start to quiver.
His fast thrusts pummel me at a dizzying tempo. Algedonic pressure dances up my spine with each ram of his groin. “Don’t you dare come, Monroe. Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarls like a fraying madman standing on the precipice of no return.
Fuck, he’s going faster. Each thrust shakes my already swollen clit. Each slap of his balls threatens to send me over the edge. High-pitched screams that sound like a hyperventilating hyena chafe my throat raw. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
An arm hooks around my waist, frenzied and rough, as I register the weight of his torso leaning into me.
Slick fingers press firm against my clit, jostling with each drive of his hips to create the perfect rub of friction.
My core winds into a torturous tremble, and I don’t think I can control it anymore.
“Now, puppy!” Kieren yells, pinching my engorged clit with the force of a thousand clamps, knowing this last bit of pain will be my salvation. And my ruin.
Inexplicable pleasure crashes down my core like a launched rocket.
I unleash a scream so visceral that spittle flies everywhere, and my voice gives out.
My pussy clenches and pulses with a strength I can feel in my teeth.
My contracting walls must feel like a vice because Kieren sounds like he can barely breathe.
He stutters the word “fuck” and follows it with clipped, breathy pants as he collapses against me.
Only when he’s completely drained do I feel Kieren pull out.
I have the faint awareness that our combined releases run down my inner thighs, and the vibrating clamps are still attached to my nipples.
My brain makes a mental note that my wrists remain bound, I’m covered in my own saliva, and I’m lying face down on a concrete floor with my ass in the air.
But then my mind pushes all that aside, compartmentalizing the pain, and I… just… float.
My body is weightless with ecstasy, untethered and set free by satiety. I am nowhere and everywhere all at once, and I never want this sensation of unadulterated, unholy bliss to end. The heaviness of life dissipates, and I remember why I first fell in love with Kieren, my uncut gem.
I remember us.
He set me free, even if he took part of my soul in the process. And now, I want to feel free once more. For him. For this. For us.