Page 170 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

I wriggle and yelp. It hurts, it arouses, and I am torn once again between wanting you to stop and begging you for more.

You take first one nipple in your mouth and then the other, sucking them hard. I begin to think there is a direct line between my nipples and my clit because that’s certainly how it feels. I had thought for a brief moment that I was winning, that I’d found some way to switch off what I was feeling out of the sheer need to please you, but here I am again in that all too familiar place, back on the edge, and I know the only person who ever wins in this is you.

You kiss your way gently down my stomach and I tense, hoping against hope that you will not test me with your tongue. It is too much, too excruciatingly pleasurable, and I have no idea if I can hold back if you do this.

I feel your warm breath on my pussy, the lightest touch of your tongue over my skin.

“No, please, Sir. Please.”

You raise your head and smile. “Oh yes, Abby. Definitely yes. You need to learn. You need to remember that what happens is not your choice. And you will not fucking dare come while I do this. Not this time. Or God help you. Do you understand me?”

I swallow hard at that implacable tone in your voice. “Yes, Master.”

You drop a kiss right on my pussy lips, and then pause for a moment, letting the anticipation build. “Nineteen minutes left,” you say, and then that is the last thing you say for quite a while as you push your tongue inside me, licking all the way around my pussy lips but not yet touching my clit.

I reach up and grab the solid metal bars of the bed, gripping tightly, focusing on how the metal feels under my hands.

I feel your hot breath over my clit and then you lick right over it, all around it, taking it in your mouth and sucking it hard.

At first, I was aware of noises outside on the street, passing cars, people chatting but now it has all gone. I am aware of nothing but you, your tongue, and my own squirming body.

I can't think of anything else. My breathing is quick and my eyes wide; my clit throbs, and my orgasm begins to build. For a minute or so, all I can do is lie there and let the reaction wash over me.

No. Not again.

I can’t let you down again. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, fighting my way back from the brink. I look at the clock. Fifteen minutes. I can hold on for fifteen minutes. I watch the second hand slowly pass around the clock face.

Fourteen minutes.

My nails dig in tighter, and I think about that pain. Thirteen minutes. My arm muscles ache from gripping the bars but I hold on.

The second hand is almost at the top when you drop one last kiss on my pussy and sit up.

Twelve minutes. I relax my arms, letting them hang from the cuffs.

You smile at me and stroke my face. “You did it. Well done, sweetheart. Almost there.”

You reach over to the bedside table and then straighten up. I close my eyes in dread for a split second as you hold a nipple clamp threateningly over my already sore and tender skin. I open my eyes again and you look straight at me. Everything seems to stand still, not a breath, no sound, nothing at all, just the exquisite anticipation of pain and pleasure.

And then the clamp bites down hard on my nipple and I cry out, breathing fast, trying to adjust to the sensation.

You pick up the second clamp and hold it close to my nipple. I cringe and look away. You make me wait just a few seconds, and then the clamp is there, biting down, and I cry out again.

"Five minutes to go." You jiggle the weights on the clamps, hurting me even more and, just as I think I'm getting used to them, you do it again. “Three minutes.” You tug on the chain between the clamps, pulling my breasts up.

I drift away for a long moment just from your voice whispering things you want to do to me next time, things you might do later. There is nothing else in the world; only your voice, the pain of the clamps, and that burning need to come.

“Under a minute, Abby. You’re doing so well.”

You touch my clit, lightly at first, and then rhythmically push against it. "Ten seconds."

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Those few seconds count down so slowly. Almost there. So near. I want release so badly I can taste it.

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