Page 34 of Brave
She closed her eyes, rolling her lips to muffle the moans, and struggling with the nip of each new clip to keep her breathing slow and steady. In the early days of his domhood, he’d once decorated his forearm in clothespins, just so he’d know what it felt like. Some springs were tighter than others, making the initial bite on some stronger than others. But for the most part, they all went on with little more than a nip of sensation. At first. But as the seconds ticked into minutes, those nips turned into bites, and then the bites began to throb. The longer they clung on, the worse that throb became.
He took his time and decorated her in the most beautiful of bites. The lobes of her ears, the slope of her neck. Clothespin after clothespin, he bit at her ribs, her belly, her buttocks, and the quivering softness of her thighs. By the time he was down to his last handful of clips, he knew every one of his nips were fast dissolving into that exquisite ache and throb by how tightly her fists clutched at her sides and how fiercely she squeezed her mouth and eyes shut. She was shaking, but the flush of arousal now stained her breasts and, kneeling as he was before her, he could smell it.
His own arousal wasn’t any less obvious. All she had to do was open her eyes to see it, pushing hard at the confines of his pants where, he was determined, it was going to stay. At least for today.
“I love it when you look at me,” was all he had to say to get her to open her eyes. That look, combined with a caress of her hand along his shaft, and he could easily have come.
Not today, he told himself, reinforcing his determination and locking it down.
“Some touching will be required to make you come. Do I have your consent?”
She startled, her widening eyes and shaky gasp letting him know that reality had just intruded on her pleasure. “I… I c-can’t!” she quavered, panic rising fast in her eyes.
“Can’t let me touch you or can’t come?” he asked, fairly certain he already knew the answer.
“I…” Panic turned to guilt. Caught, she stared at him, which was all he needed to know he was right.
Ethen O’Dowell, rearing his nasty head yet again.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” she whispered, blinking hard against the sudden sheen of tears.
“I’m not mad at you,” he promised. “I just want to ask you a question.”
She swiped her wrist across her cheek, crushing out the first run away tear.
“Do you want your Sir to touch you?”
Swallowing hard, she nodded. “Very much.”
Her admission was as soft as it was guilt-laden. If he ever met Ethen face to face, he was going to knock the man flying. Careful to keep all trace of that quiet anger out of his tone, Carlson asked, “Do you want your Sir to make you come?”
She clutched at her fingers, holding onto them so tightly that her knuckles whitened. She nodded again, her brow buckling in what seemed almost like apology. “Y-yes, please.”
“Then who says you can’t?” He remained on his knees before her, holding the last of the clothespins in his hand while he waited for her to worry through the consequences of her answer.
“Someone who doesn’t matter anymore.” She looked at him hopefully. “Right?”
“Good girl. Do I have your consent to touch you in a way designed to make you come?”
Guilt warred with hope in the depths of her soft brown eyes before she nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
He had five clothespins left and he held her gaze as he made each bite count. Tickles of heated moisture spilling onto his fingers as he caressed his hand up between her thighs, clamping the first two clips onto each side of her outer folds. Two more bit down on the much more tender inner folds, winning a low moan from her, one that was half pleasure, half pain, and nowhere near as heartfelt as the one she gasped out when he peeled back the protective flesh that concealed her clit and used the last pin to clamp just behind the head, baring it to him completely.
“Put your hands on my shoulders,” he told her, picking up the wand.
She obeyed, her whole body stiffening, her breath catching on a whimper when he nestled that wide, white head flush up against the last clothespin. He turned it on.
Sucking air, Puppy shot up onto her toes. Her belly flinched, her thighs shaking as he rolled the head until he found the perfect spot to press and then turned the power up.
And she thought she was broken.
“Spread your legs for me, honey,” he said, reaching his free hand back behind the humming wand. Two fingers slid effortlessly up into the tight wetness of her pussy. He felt the spasm of her, locking down around him, twitching every bit as wildly as the hum buzzing up against her clit. “There’s a good girl,” he praised as she shakily spread her legs, toes digging into the hardwood flooring and fingers digging into his steady shoulders. “Show your Sir what belongs to him.”
“Oh!” she gasped, hips twitching as she fought not to pull back.
“Good girl. Look at me.”
Opening her eyes, she looked straight down into his. Her hands on his shoulders locked into fists as she clamped her lips tight together.
