Chapter 27 #2
She jerked at a sharp prick to her clit. No, not the clit, the hood. It took her a second to realize he was using a needle on it. In and out. Then again, a little higher. Each pass sent a bright, stinging jolt through her most sensitive flesh.
Finally, the needle slid into the thicker meat well above the hood, pinning the skin upward and back. Exposing the unprotected glans beneath, so she could feel it throbbing in the open air.
He slid something onto the end of the needle to hold it in place, and slowly withdrew his fingers.
And then came the electric toothbrush again, and damned if it didn’t feel as if he’d gone up to a faster speed.
Everything was used again, but harder and more intense than before. The rubber bands, the vibrator, the plastic flogger. Whatever he was caning it with.
The pain was excruciating and endless. She screamed and thrashed, the binder clip on her tongue turning every sound into a garbled mess.
And she only had seconds between tools. He never let up. Never let her catch a full breath.
Never let her stop screaming.
She was actually relieved when he moved to her inner thighs, flogging them with a super-stingy flogger, figure eights on her inner thighs, occasionally taking a half-dozen swipes at her clit and pussy before returning to her thighs.
The vibrating plug in her ass kept changing patterns — low rumbles, sharp bursts, unpredictable waves — keeping her constantly on edge while he worked.
When she thought there was no skin left on the insides of her legs, the electric toothbrush came out again, directly on her clit.
Sharp bristles buzzed against naked, overstimulated nerves with excruciating intensity.
She couldn’t bear it. She screamed and jerked and cried, but she had no choice but to take it.
“Come for me,” he ordered, voice rough and commanding.
She didn’t think it was possible, but her body obeyed instantly.
The orgasm slammed through her in painful acceleration, her muscles spasming inside her, shattering her psyche and overwhelming everything.
She screamed around the binder clip on her tongue as wave after wave ripped through her, her clit on fire, her ass muscles clenching around the still-vibrating plug.
While she was still coming, he slammed his cock into her pussy and hit bottom. Without time to get used to him, he fucked her like a madman while her pussy gripped and convulsed around his hard length.
His pelvic bone struck her freshly tortured clit with every brutal thrust, and she’d just come.
It was too much, she couldn’t take it, but she couldn’t stop it.
Her head dangled from her body, hair swinging, while he fucked her hard, the knee ropes gripping and holding her somewhat steady, but still, her head swung below her body, bouncing and jerking with every slam, completely at his mercy.
He ordered her to come again and again. Each time, her body shattered for him, the pain and pleasure twisting together until she couldn’t tell them apart.
When he finally came, he buried himself deep and emptied himself inside her with a low, guttural groan, and finally staggered back.
She thought he was done, but he walked around to her front, removed the binder clip from her tongue, and the rush of blood back into the crushed flesh made her scream again — but he immediately slid his softening cock into her mouth.
“Put your naughty, punished tongue to good use and get me hard again, little painslut. Not even close to being done with you.”
She did her best, licking and sucking despite the fact her tongue was on fire and didn’t want to cooperate. Her entire body was exhausted, but she did her best, and before long, he was hard again.
He put the damned binder clip back on her tongue when his cock came out, and gently patted her cheek.
“Oh, it hurts so much worse going back on, doesn’t it? But it’ll keep more words from coming out of that dicksucking mouth. So it’s necessary.”
He walked out of sight again and she heard noises she couldn’t identify. Liquid noises.
And then her clit exploded in fucking pain. It hurt like her tongue did — had he put a fucking binder clip on it, too?
She jerked and yanked when the needle came out, then again when he yanked the plug from her hole. Seconds later, his cock was at her ass, pressing in.
She jerked and writhed from the fresh pain, the stretch, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of being used so completely.
He was rougher yet this time, pounding her hard and fast, and she desperately needed a way to stabilize her head, but there wasn’t a way.
She was a hanging slab of meat with convenient holes to fuck.
And yet, when he eventually ordered her to come, her body obeyed him.
Just before he finally came deep inside her, he took whatever was on her clit off, so she was jerking and moving, writhing in the ropes, fighting them, when he held her in place and emptied himself inside her with a series of growls.
He stayed inside her a long moment before pulling out, and immediately smacked her clit with his open hand — over and over — while the blood finished returning, the sharp slaps sending fresh fire through her raw nerves.
“Come,” he ordered. “Keep coming. Don’t stop.”
She came again and again, each orgasm more painful and intense than the last, until she was a sobbing, shaking, completely shattered mess hanging in his ropes.
Only then did he finally ease off, his hand gentling, his touch turning almost tender as he removed the clip from her tongue, cut her down while holding her safely in his arms, and carried her toward the bed.
“Need to pee. Please.”
He made a sharp turn, walked her to the bathroom, and settled her on the toilet.
“You may want to change instead of peeing,” he told her, but it was too late.
Her pee was like acid on her raw tissues, and she did exactly as he said and let her wolf burst forth.
There was no pee once she was the wolf. No mess. No pain.
It was all over, and the human felt as if she’d lost all that work. All that time.
To her extreme disappointment, nothing hurt, and she was no longer exhausted.
A night in his ropes and a morning of extreme clit torture — and having her psyche torn apart — and now it was all fucking gone.
But the wolf was in charge now, and she was busy bumping and rubbing against the man, scent-marking him. Claiming him.
The man squatted low and looked her in the eyes. Asked if she wanted wolf food or human food, and she felt her inner human insisting they change back.
But the wolf wanted to run a little, even if it was only through the house, so she ran across the bedroom, down the steps, and back across the house before she gave up control to let the human take control again.
Tuesday shook off the effects of two changes back-to-back, her mind still reeling with everything that’d happened since she arrived.
She was existing in an off-balance, wobbly dissonance — being physically pristine while her psyche felt like it’d been flayed open and dragged through every torture imaginable.
The change had fixed the physical, but it couldn't un-remember the way she'd screamed, and it couldn't erase the cold weight of all the tools Knife had used to break her down to something far past surrender.
She desperately wanted him to put her back together, to feel his hands anchoring her back to reality, but the change had made it unnecessary.
And showing him how deeply he’d cracked her open wasn’t happening now that she was physically fine, so she locked it all away and smiled at him when he came downstairs.