Second Thank Yous
“The advantage,” he said, “of running a kinky porn site is that no one cares whether or not you have sex at work.”
I raised my eyebrow at him, “and I suppose it’s your duty to make sure that all of the equipment stays in working order?”
“Exactly. I’m glad you understand.” He started walking towards me with a look on his face that was either going to get him jumped or send me running towards the hills.
I stood my ground.
“You,” he continued, reaching towards me and beginning to undo the buttons on my dress, “are wearing far too much clothing to help me in my maintenance tasks.”
“I’m so sorry,” I replied, “I didn’t realize I had been recruited for janitorial duty.”
“Not so much janitorial,” he said, ripping the dress the rest of the way off and making me gasp, ” as high maintenance.”
I started to protest and had the air knocked out of me as he flung me over his shoulder and carried me naked down the stairs.
“I think you can manage it.” he said and I cursed to myself as ribald catcalls from the few employees who still remained at work followed us from his office down to the basement.
“I am not high maintenance,” I said as he dumped me onto the cold concrete floor and went to rummage around in a supply closet.
“Of course you’re not, darling,” he responded without bothering to look at me where I sat pouting on the ground. “Be a dear and make yourself comfortable on that spanking bench while I find the equipment I’m looking for.”
I stood up, walked over to where he was rummaging in the closet, and bit him on the ass.
“OW!” he cried, turning around to look at me in surprise and consternation.
“I am not high maintenance.” I repeated, smiling at him in a way that I knew would simply egg him on.
“You are also not obedient,” he responded mimicking my tone. “Would you like it better if I grabbed you by the hair, dragged you over to that bench, forced you down on it, and tied you so tightly you won’t be able to move?”
“Why do you think I bit you on the ass?” I answered in my best innocent tone, and squeaked and protested in amused and feigned outrage as he proceeded to do just that.
Tied to the bench, legs spread, ass in the air, with a lovely view of nothing even remotely interesting, I listened as he went back to rummaging through the closet.
“You’re the boss,” I commented, “You’d think you’d know where things were.”
“I do,” was the mumbled reply, “when other people put them back where they belong.” I heard a crash and a curse and then the sound of someone digging himself out from under a pile of what I could only imagine were either chains or a nest of pissed off metal snakes. “Oh! There they are.”
My view changed to one of his leather clad feet and denim covered legs. In his left hand was a group of what looked like rubber covered C clamps of various sizes.
“What,” I said, “You’re worried the furniture is coming apart and have to hold it together with those before you play with me?”
“Oh no, my sarcastic little moppet,” he replied, “I have something much better in mind for these.”
Dumping all but one of the clamps on the floor he continued to talk while unscrewing the device he still held to open it wider. “I remembered that you really like pressure point play, and I thought to myself ‘How can I hurt her horribly without having to tire out my hands the way I did last time.’ Then it occurred to me that we had these. I don’t think anyone’s had the chance to test them out yet. You’ll have to let me know how they work.”
At that point he stepped up to me and began prodding the muscles of my arm looking for the place that, when he pushed on it, would make me gasp. Finding it, he took the clamp he had just opened and screwed it down tight enough to produce amazing waves of pain.
“How’s that?” he asked.
I moaned.
“I rather thought you’d enjoy it,” he continued, “weird little masochist that you are,” and then he continued to place various other clamps on my other arm, my legs, and my ears until I was overwhelmed with the constant, unrelenting pain.
It was incredibly intense, but blissfully so. With no impact to shy away from, I could just let the waves of agony wash over me and take me out of my head.
I zoned out for a while, simply enjoying the sensations, and then started back to myself when he knelt down before me, grabbed me by the hair, and raised my head to look in my eyes.
“Are you enjoying yourself, little girl?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Would you like more?”
I nodded again.
“Would you like me to fuck you?”
I nodded vigorously.
“Good,” he said, unzipping his pants and pulling on a condom, “then suck my cock.”
I moaned around his cock as he held my head and pushed it deep in my throat. It was an awkward angle, but the combined motivation of the pain and the thought of him fucking me the way I so desperately wanted drove me on. I choked and gagged, but kept working on his gorgeous cock, hoping that my efforts would be rewarded, and they were.
“Gods,” he said, “I think I’m going to have to fuck you now,” and he walked around behind me to stand between my spread legs.
Reaching his hand out, he found me already wet and ready, and when he asked, “Do you want me to remove the clamps before I fuck you?” I shook my head.
“Do you want me to make them tighter?”
I hesitated, and then nodded.
“Good girl,” he said, and, after tightening the clamps on my arms to the point of agony, pushed himself inside.
I moaned, as I always do, at the feeling of his cock inside me, rubbing against me, bringing me wave after wave of pleasure. The combination with the pain was incredible.
“You like it, don’t you,” he said, “when I fuck you like this? When I bend you over, hurt you, make you beg for it, and then use you like the series of holes you are?”
“Yes,” I moaned and pushed back against him as far at the rope would allow.
He continued talking while he fucked me, his words and the sensations pushing me closer and closer to orgasm, “You’re just a little slut, aren’t you? You’d probably love it if I turned the cameras on, and invited my employees down to give me a little show.”
I whimpered a little at the thought.
“Just think about it. All of them looking at you, seeing you like this. Using you, two or three at a time. You couldn’t do anything about it, tied down the way you are, and you’re such a little whore, I bet you’d like it. One guy in your mouth,” he reached around to start playing with my clit, “another using this soaking wet cunt, and maybe a big fat dildo up your ass”
I orgasmed at the thought of it, jerking the ropes tight around me, and then collapsing back onto the bench as he continued to fuck me, saying, “I could sell the tapes all over the Internet, and invite strangers to come use you anyway they liked.” He increased his pace, “Or I could just hurt you more,” he finished, and, grasping the front of my pubis so hard I knew I would have bruises for a week, fucked me to completion.
After we both got our breath back, he released the clamps, untied me, and carried me over to the black leather couch that sat in the corner of the dungeon, sitting down on it and then pulling me into a little ball in his lap.
With his hand stroking my hair, we sat in contented silence for what could have been minutes, or could have been hours, until I finally got my voice back.
“Just so you know,” I muttered sleepily, nuzzling my head into his chest, “I think they work.”
“I noticed,” he responded, cuddling me closer. “I was just wondering what we should test next.”
–
Note: I have no idea if this would work in real life, but it was inspired by a torture scene in a science fiction book I just read where the bad guy screwed clamps onto a series of pressure points to give intense pain without causing any damage. I really like pressure point play and the scene made me want to experiment… or get violently beaten and fucked… or something.
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