Page 31 of Caged
I nod.
“I asked you a fucking question. Do I need to repeat myself?”
“Yes,” I yearn with agreement, desperate for him to do his worst. “Yes, I need another lesson. Please train me again. I want to be good. I want to be so good for you, Kieren.”
The screech of a stepstool against the concrete floor makes me shiver, and then I hear them.
The chains.
He must have brought them here from his parents’ house in Connecticut, because we didn’t use them during our sophomore year when he shared a suite with Jace. I suppose now that he’s president of Sigma and has this massive room all to himself, all bets are off.
I make the mistake of glancing up at the sound of metal links rattling through a loop in the ceiling. Quickly, I look away before I’m caught. Hanging chains sway in my periphery as Kieren lumbers down the stool and crouches in front of me. Leather cuffs are fitted snugly around my wrists and then hooked together by a carabiner clasp. Kieren tests the efficacy of the clip by forcefully pulling my wrists apart and then grins when it’s clear I’d be unable to separate them on my own.
He reaches for one of the chains and then hooks a second carabiner through the last link before attaching it to my bound wrists.
“Open,” he instructs, and I pop apart my lips.
Kieren positions a silicon ball gag in front of my mouth and shimmies on his knees to pull the straps tight around my face before securing the buckle at the back of my head. He stands and wastes no time removing his heather-grey T-shirt and jeans.
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 theoriginal 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.”
