by T. Evans
“Correct. Do you want to know how many I will be applying to you?”
Anita considered his offer. “I want to test my limits against the unknown again, Sir.”
“Very well. I will expect you to keep count of how many of them are on your skin. Any time that I ask, you need to tell me. Do yourself a favor and don’t give me the wrong number, Miss Rhodes.”
“Yes, Sir. You have two so far, Sir.”
“Very good.” He somehow twisted both of the clothespins in a way that made her feel like he was trying to rip a piece of skin off. She wanted to pull away from him, but knew that would only send the pain through the roof, but it was so hard to keep her legs still. “Just so you know what will happen if you give me a wrong number, Miss Rhodes.”
“I understand, Sir.”
At six clothespins, he crawled over her to straddle her face and she sucked on him for a bit. The pins hurt even when he wasn’t twisting at them. Any movement of her legs caused them to quiver a bit, and she’d wince at the increase in pain. The break to distract her with his cock in her mouth did her some good, though, and she was feeling ready when he moved back down her body and put another six clothespins on her, three in each leg, closer to the insides of her thighs, higher up.
Anita couldn’t help but wonder if he had plans to go all the way up and pin her shut.
He kept working, putting more on her thighs, and then moving to her breasts, laying a line from left to right at nipple level, but mercifully leaving them alone. “How many, Miss Rhodes?” he asked a little later, dipping his cock in range of her mouth again. “Twenty, Sir.”
“Good.” The next thing she felt took her a while to figure out. He was doing something to the pins, not intentionally twisting or rattling them, but still manipulating them somehow. Then she felt a piece of twine brush against her arm as he worked. It seemed he was tying the clothespins together in clusters. At one point, he straightened up, and she felt all of the clothespins in her skin pull against her at once. He started manipulating them, not as cruelly as his first demonstration of what it was like to have them twisted, but it didn’t take long before she started giving herself a ten-count before calling ‘Alter’ or ‘Warning’. Sir seemed to notice that, because she’d only counted down to nine when he released her.
He picked up the bundle of chain she had forgotten was on her belly. “These will be similar to rope restraints,” he said. “Do not hold out to your limit, because as soon as I release them, the blood is going to come rushing back into the affected body parts with a vengeance. Understood?”
“I understand, Sir.”
Anita heard the light rattle of the chains and some other metallic creak, as he pinched her right nipple a few times, bringing it up and erect. He kissed and sucked it, then she felt something clamp down on it. He repeated the treatment on her other nipple, then she felt his hand slide down from between her breasts to her belly button, leaving chain in its wake. He keep going until he parted her lower lips.
“Oh, Sir?” she asked, and he answered the unspoken question when she felt him go for her clit with his fingertips.
At least that third clamp seemed to have a gentler hold than the first two, but even after just a few seconds, she could feel the intensity of the sensation building. She did suspected it would not take long for it to start causing her pain.
“Clothespins, Miss Rhodes?”
“Twenty, Sir.”
“Good.”
Six more went onto her body, so high up her thigh that their ends touched her lips. She felt Sir tie these six new pins together. He put himself into her mouth again, while he manipulated some of the clothespins. Not in the harshly painful way, but with more careful twists and tugs. “Here you go,” he said, putting something in her hand. “How many clothespins?”
Anita was about to answer twenty-six, but there were clearly some in her hand. A quick run of her thumb across them, and she said, “Twenty-two, Sir.”
“Very good, Miss Rhodes.”
The next round went into her pubic mound, six more, three on either side. Sir took the clothespins out of her hand and attached them to her breasts, above and below each nipple.
“How many, Miss Rhodes?”
Anita struggled to do math. The last number she’d given him, more added, some taken from her hand… “Thirty-two, Sir?” she asked.
“I want an answer, not a question,” he said, wrenching the clothespins on her breasts hard enough to get her to grit her teeth. It was so intense that she doubled over, sitting nearly upright. Sir put a hand on her chest and forced her flat to the floor again. “Answer me.”
“Thirty-two, Sir.”
“Correct, Miss Rhodes.”
He straddled her again, but this time in a sixty-nine position, which required her to lean her head way back to take him in. He gently fucked her mouth while he tugged at the chain attached to the clamps on her nipples and clit. The motion briefly reduced the discomfort, but then increased the intensity. While he used her mouth, he leaned forward and blew across her clit and lips, bringing his mouth so close that she could feel his breath on her, his chin barely touched her.
Anita knew it was way too much to hope that he’d kiss or tongue her between her legs. He’d barely kissed her at all, just a few times on top of her head. The mood of the entire weekend, of him using, abusing, controlling, and dominating her did not fit at all with the thought of him doing something so giving as using his mouth to pleasure her.
Its proximity to her still made her want it, desire it. If it weren’t for his cock filling her mouth, she was certain she’d be unable to resist the urge to say, “Please, Sir…” And she knew nothing at all good would come of that. Nothing at all…
He tapped at her clit a few times, and she jerked hard. With the clamp on, the light impacts were almost unbearable. He lifted his upper body and scraped his hands across her nipples to similar effect. “You’re close to your limit with these, Miss Rhodes?”
She did her best to nod her head.
“Good,” Sir said, and she heard the wooden clack of him picking up another clothespin from the pile beside her. Three more went on her body, above her clit, pinching both her skin and the chain that connected the three metal clamps. He climbed off of her, and she felt him start to pull at the lengths of twine tied to the clothespins.
“How many, Miss Rhodes?”
“Thirty-five, Sir.”
“Very good. How are you doing?” He flicked one of her nipples with his fingertip.
Anita yelped. “Alter, Sir. Please.”
“I have no alternative sensations to give you at the moment.”
“Then Warning, Sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I need two things from you over the next fifteen seconds or so. Mind your vocabulary, and listen carefully.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said.
“Red,” he said.
Anita had no idea what he was trying to do. He wasn’t doing anything that would be remotely pleasurable to her at the moment. There were clothespins attached all over her body. The clamps were hurting her badly, with the promise of only greater pain to come. And he was telling her, “Red.”
“Orange…Yellow…Green.”
He put pressure on the twine, and the clothespins on her legs started to really pull at her skin, she at least understood his instruction to mind her vocabulary. Some very inappropriate words were sitting right on the tip of her tongue.
“Blue,” he said, putting his hand on the chain that connected the clamps. It clicked in with Anita what was about to happen.
“Indigo,” he said, and all of the clothespins that had been attached to her thighs and breasts were suddenly yanked off. A collection of random syllables burst out from her mouth, and she sat straight up. Bad choice, as that put pressure on the pins still attached to her pubic mound.
“Violet!” Sir said, and he pulled the chain hard, ripping the clamps off of her nipples and clit.
For half a heartbeat, she waited for something to happen, then a surging fire ripped into the parts of her body that had been clamped. The sensation was so overwhelming that an orgasm hit her out of nowhere like a runaway freight train. If Sir hadn’t thrown his arms around her, she was sure she would have slammed her head on the ground when her whole body went rigid at once.
It struck Anita as not unlike the orgasm she’d had on Friday, when she’d first failed to hold off for Sir’s command word, and he’d pulled out of her and literally thrown her body away from him. But that one had felt ultimately empty, unconnected, even a bit cold for her sudden lack of Sir’s contact with her body. This new orgasm had happened without him inside of her to begin with, or having any sort of other intimate contact with her body. All he’d done is pull a clamp off of her clit simultaneous with his countdown to the command word. But it didn’t make her feel hollow to climax without something hard filling her. Despite the fact that his cock was not up inside of her, in a way, he was completely inside every part of her. While the sudden rush of intense pain into some very erogenous parts of her body had contributed, what had really pushed her over the threshold was the careful countdown he’d given her, the same one that had accompanied almost every other orgasm she’d had in the previous 48 hours.
While it had not left her feeling empty, it had lit a desperate fire inside of her. It was only Sir’s strict order to watch her vocabulary that kept her from screaming, “Fuck Me Now!” That and the fact that making such a demand would be neither obedient nor complaint. She did not want to get another lesson in knowing her place.
All she could do was try not to whimper pathetically in her need for more.
Chapter Eight
Anita was keeping herself very silent, but her legs were speaking volumes. Her thigh muscles flexed as she squeezed her legs together and her hips rolled. She and her body needed his body. Marshall unclipped the last few clothespins that hadn’t been tied to one of the lengths of twine or over the chain attached to the clamps.
“Roll over,” he said.
Anita flipped over onto her stomach. He unsheathed one of the knives, the one he kept very sharp. “Touch this,” he said, guiding her hand to the blade. “Feel that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I want to mark you, Miss Rhodes. Endure, and…” Marshall used his knee to open her thighs. He brushed his cock against the back of one of her legs. “I reward you.”
“Please, Sir,” she breathed.
“Excellent choice, Miss Rhodes.”
Marshall pulled her thighs back together and moved down to straddle her legs. He used the sound of that to hide the noise of him sheathing the razor sharp knife and drawing the other knife he’d selected. This knife had dulled edges, nowhere near sharp enough to cut skin. But it still came to a proper point, and was no toy.
The thing was, if he scraped the point of the dull knife across skin, it would feel like he was cutting deep, but left nothing but a deep scratch. He held this knife by the blade, like an awkwardly shaped pencil, in his right hand. With his left, he pulled the skin on the small of her back taut.
When Marshall had first come up with the idea for Marshall Capital, he’d sketched up a logo based on his initials. Before he incorporated, he’d gotten a proper designer to develop a professional logo for the company, but had never lost his fondness for the simple cipher he’d made from his initials. That was what he scored into the skin of Anita’s back, listening to her groan as he drew the blade across her. His initials took only six straight lines. Once he’d completed those, he started drawing decorative curves out from them until Anita said, “Warning, Sir.”
“Very good, Miss Rhodes. Your endurance was quite admirable.”
“I am happy I was able to please you, Sir.”
“And you would like your reward now, Miss Rhodes?”
“If that is your desire, Sir.”
“Stand up,” he said, assisting her with a handful of her hair. He walked her over to the cross and pulled a couple of items from a chest of drawers. They looked like padded stirrups with metal clips on them, and he attached one to each of the upper rings on the cross. “Hold these,” he said, guiding her hands up to them.
“Yes, Sir.”
Marshall stooped to get a hand behind each of her knees and hike them up, spreading her legs wide. He was plenty hard, and she eager, so their bodies coupled effortlessly, both of them letting out a long moan as he pushed upwards and she let herself sink to him. The cross leaned back at a slight angle, and he found that by leaning his upper body back, her weight was comfortably supported by a combination of his hips, the intersection of the cross’s two arms, and her hold on the handles. He started at her easy, listening to her quietly voice her enjoyment. Their time in The Retreat was almost at an end, so he wanted to savor his last time in her.
The sweetness of her fine body, her moans, and the beauty of her muscles tensed as she held onto the handles above her head, still she managed to lead him inevitably toward the fulfillment of his pleasure. As he felt it building, he pushed into her harder, let his fingers dig into her legs, and let his own voice develop a growl.
She responded in kind, and he led her through the color spectrum twice. He had kept his voice relatively even as he did so, and it seemed she held a little back, waiting for some signal from him that he was ready to finish.
Marshall let himself pick up the pace and go at her both harder and faster. Once he knew his orgasm was imminent, he got his mouth close to her ear. “Come when I do,” he told her, and sunk his teeth into her shoulder. He bit down hard and sucked while he thrust up into her hard enough that he felt the cross’s base lifting off the floor. He was barely aware of the change in the sounds coming from her. He knew they were getting louder, but he had no idea whether she was just making noise, reciting poetry at the top of her lungs, begging him for something… All he knew was that when he finally released, her legs got very tight around his waist and her back arched enough that she almost pulled herself free from his bite.
As he felt the last contraction of orgasm in his cock and he started to slide back down from the peak, he took his mouth off of her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. Anita let her feet down to the floor and let go of the handles, and they stood there for a long time, still joined together, arms around each other, leaned up against the cross.
When he was ready to separate, he took the mask off of Anita, and looked into her eyes. She still looked fuzzy and unfocused, but there was no denying the look of pure bliss in them. “Miss Rhodes.”
“Sir?”
He knew that quality of voice. She had not gone into the deep subspace where her body would go inert and her mind would go into a trance, but she was still in a very open and vulnerable submissive state of mind. He knew that he could have ordered her to walk naked out onto the rooftop garden and offer her body to any man who would take her, and she’d likely do it.
“Come with me,” he said, and led her to the bedroom. He pulled back the covers and crawled in with her, letting her nestle up against his side.
When Marshall heard her breathing settle into a natural pattern, he rolled over onto his side to face her. “Friday morning, before we came in here. I asked if you’d like me to kiss you tenderly before we started. Do you remember?”
“Yes, Sir. I said I wanted to earn it.”
He pushed her shoulder gently, to roll her onto her back, then climbed up on top of her. “Have I truly earned it, Sir?” Anita asked him.
“Hush, Miss Rhodes,” he said, and pressed his lips to hers. She parted her lips slightly, and he followed suit, letting his tongue dart out, teasingly. She opened up to him a little more, and they kept their lips locked together for several long breaths.
“You far exceeded my expectations,” Marshall told her. “I think we could both use another shower before lunch.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said, getting up as soon as he rolled off of her. Marshall allowed her to have the bathroom to
herself and waited until he heard the water running before he got up. He found Anita with her back to the mirrors, looking at the red lines he’d left on her.
“It wasn’t until I’d gotten in here that I remembered you’d taken a knife to me,” she said. “The cross. Completely threw it out of my mind. When I remembered about it, I was sure there’d be blood all over the place. You must have an extraordinarily careful touch, Sir.”
As Marshall removed the collar from her neck, he explained to her about switching the blades. “Would you ever use the other one on me?” she asked, as she opened the shower door for him.
“That could leave scars, mark somebody for the rest of their life. There would need to be a pretty significant degree of trust and commitment established before I’d ever go there.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Katrine had put another outfit in the bedroom closet for you while we were out last night. When we are done in here, make my bed, re-order The Playground, get dressed, and prepare us lunch.”
“Yes, Sir,” Anita said, and started to wash his hair.
After the shower, Marshall selected a pair of black, heavy linen trousers and a dark red raw silk shirt. He’d chosen it after he’d seen the outfit Katrine had selected for Anita, a nearly floor-length linen skirt in deep burgundy, with a slate gray bamboo fiber blouse, matched with a pair of comfortable-looking flats.
“Should I bring you the collar, Sir?” Anita asked when he came into the kitchen. She was at the stove, with a recipe card in front of her while she stirred sauce in a small pan.
“Please, Miss Rhodes.”
Anita moved quickly to the bathroom to retrieve it from the counter, and immediately dropped to her knees, kissed the tops of Marshall’s feet, and presented the collar to him. He buckled it on, and touched the underside of her chin to signal her to rise.
“You recall that this collar belongs to this space, not to you,” Marshall said.
“I do, Sir,” Anita said, in a carefully neutral tone. She kept her eyes downcast for a moment.
“The sauce, Miss Rhodes.”
