Page 160 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

I automatically settle myself into position, shoulders back and down, the soft fibres of the carpet pressing against my bare legs. I look up at you, trying to apologize already. For what, I’m not quite sure yet, but I know I’ve done something wrong from the crackle of tension in the air.

“Will, Sir, I—”

I get no further. You slap me across the face. "Lower your eyes. Disobedient little sluts don't deserve to look at their Master. Do they?”

“N-No, Master.”

I look down immediately, my face stinging, and focus on the patterns in the carpet to try to keep from trembling. I am almost glad that you don’t want me to meet your eyes. The humiliation of being slapped burns my face and I feel so completely vulnerable that I’m really not sure that I could look at you.

“Hands behind your back, Abby. Keep them there.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You lightly cup and caress my breasts, gently teasing my nipples. I close my eyes, breathing quickening, growing more and more aroused. The pressure on my nipples increases, until I am squirming against the pain. I clasp my hands tightly behind my back, doing everything I can to keep them there and stay in position.

You release my nipples and move behind me, roping my ankles together and my hands behind my back, then grab my hair and force my head back again.

I keep my eyes lowered, not daring to look up at you again without permission.

You stroke my cheek where you slapped me earlier, gently, tenderly, and then draw back your hand and slap me again, on the back swing, and then again; not hard this time, but quickly enough to take my breath away. “Open your mouth.”

I don’t even think twice. I open my mouth wide, hoping that it pleases you. You don't even look at me to check that I have obeyed you. You assume I have, that I must; that it is your right.

You walk away, leaving me with my mouth still open and far too much time to wonder about my predicament.

I'm not sure how long I stay like that, but my jaw is beginning to ache by the time you return.

You re-enter the room, carrying one of your toy bags and the mysterious box that has been tantalising me for days, ever since it arrived. You put everything down on the sofa and unzip the toy bag. The box is open now, the flaps of cardboard sticking up, but I can't see what is inside.

You grab my jaw roughly and check that I am still as you have ordered, mouth wide open, awaiting whatever you might do. "Keep it open, Abby."

I hear a jingling noise and want to look, but my head is back, exactly where you left it, and I don't want to find out what would happen if I moved.

I feel the warmth of your hand on my breast then a sharp pain bites my left nipple, gripping the soft flesh tightly. You move your hand away quickly, and I feel my nipple being tugged; pulled down sharply by the weight attached to the nipple clamp you have just applied.

I want to yell, but I can't. I can only make an agonised 'oooohhh' sound through my wide-open mouth.

You play with the weight, twirling and twisting it, knowing that makes it much more difficult for me to get used to the clamp.

I gasp and pant and squirm, trying to cope with the pain.

"Oh dear," you say. "Look how neglected your right breast is. I'd better do something about that."

I feel your hand on my right breast and tense, waiting for the bite of the other nipple clamp.

You make me wait, tugging again at the weight on my left nipple. “Are you ready, Abby?”

I can only nod. It makes no difference whether I am or not. You will do what you wish anyway.

“Here we go. Three…”

I tense even more.

“Two…”

The clamp bites hard into my right nipple before I was expecting it to, and I almost scream in shock.

“One. Oh dear. It seems you weren’t ready after all. Shame.”

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