Safeword: Rainbow (2013 extended edition) (Safeword Series)

by Candace Blevins

  Master Tyler spoke again. “Viv, you aren’t being punished tonight, but the safeword rules you used to have for punishment are in place. You aren’t to safeword for pain alone, but only if your body is actually being damaged. Do you understand, Precious?”

  She didn’t try to talk around the gag, just nodded.

  The other woman began making the sounds of an intense orgasm, and Viv thought with relief that this part of her ordeal would be over soon. But the woman’s climax seemed never-ending; she must’ve come for fifteen minutes before Viv finally heard the sounds of her being taken down and put on the daybed.

  Surely it just felt like fifteen minutes because she was besieged with pain. Surely?

  Viv was still alternating up on her toes and back to her flat feet, though now she also stopped at the halfway point a few times as she tried to find a place between the two torments. Her calves burned, her arms ached above her head, her nipples were on fire, and the entire area around her clit just fucking hurt.

  Finally, she felt a hand on her ass. “Your Master desires to see you cry tonight. He tells me if I let you go off into subspace, you’ll just enjoy whatever pain I give you, so I must keep you from going there.”

  Viv didn’t want to move with his hand on her ass, but her nipples were pulling terribly and she had to drop down again. His hand moved with her, and he continued. “I’ll be stopping to give you math problems. When I’m finished with you, your Master will dispense punishment if you’ve missed more than three. The type and severity will depend on how many you get incorrect. They will not be hard problems.”

  Unable to take the pressure of the board’s edge at her clit for another second, Viv rose to her tiptoes again. Master James moved his hand to the back of her head, and began unbuckling her gag as he said, “Feel free to scream as much as you want, but no words may come out of your mouth. You may only respond to the math questions with the answer, followed by a sign of respect.”

  Viv worked her jaw in relief as Master James walked the hated penis gag to the deep sink Tyler’d installed. When Master James returned he said, “What is seventy-six plus twenty-three?”

  Her brain refused to add, and Viv had to swim up from the fog she hadn’t realized surrounded her. As the haze dissipated, her clit screamed louder, and she pushed up to her toes to gain relief, only to torture her nipples yet again, and make her calves burn. He was right; this would keep her out of subspace, dammit. It was impossible to think straight through the agonizing pain, but she tried and came up with, “Ninety-nine, Sir.”

  She hoped his brief nod meant she’d gotten it right, and wished he’d just get on with whatever came next, and release her from this horrible contraption. The teeth in the clamps pulled and stretched her nipples beyond what she could endure; between the fiery bite of the clamps to her nipples, and the stretch of her elongated breasts, Viv was forced to switch positions yet again. She lowered only partway down this time, so everything hurt at once but nothing had to bear full pressure — except her burning calves, which had to work harder to hold this angle.

  “Your Master has not given you permission to orgasm. Should you do so, he’ll give instructions as to the punishment, which will happen after your ring has been removed and a gag inserted.” He paused and added, “I’ve read through your signed contract, and have no qualms punishing you within your boundaries without benefit of a safeword.”

  Viv had been staring at the floor, but raised her eyes to Tyler’s at the thought of someone else punishing her. She could tell by the look in his eyes he’d change things if she objected, but he hoped she‘d submit. His eyes also told her it would be okay, he’d take care of her…and she trusted him enough to look back to the floor without objecting.

  At last, Master James stepped forward, released the cinch strap, and cranked the horse down a few notches. She hadn’t cried while in the predicament, but the relief of it being over had tears threatening to spill. Her clit and pussy still hurt, the pain didn’t magically disappear, but the ordeal was over, and hopefully the ache would begin to fade soon.

  Master James walked to the wall holding most of their impact implements while Master Tyler removed the spreader bar, pulled the horse away, and re-attached the spreader bar at a much wider point.

  Standing, he said, “Eyes up, Precious. Look into my eyes until I give you permission to look away.”

  The sadist looked out of Tyler’s eyes, clearly in full control, and Viv’s racing heart tripped, stumbled, and then raced faster. She nodded once to acknowledge the order, and squeezed the chain above her hands in anticipation of whatever came next.

  Both clamps were simultaneously yanked from her nipples and she gasped at their removal, and then screamed in agony as the blood returned. Her arms and hands ached above her, but she clasped the chain and kept eye contact, exposing her soul, her suffering, and total submission to her Master.

  When she was breathing almost normally again, and the eye contact was almost painful, he said, “Tonight is about me seeing you hurt. Master James won’t harm you, but he’s very good at inflicting pain. I want to watch you cry as he hurts you tonight.” He stepped back. “Some nights being my property means you get pleasure beyond your wildest imagination. Tonight, it means pain. Drop your eyes.”

  Viv was scared. Turned on and horny, but really, really, scared.

  Master James’ feet came back into her vision as he returned, and Viv had to remind herself to keep looking down.

  Tyler lowered the winch and Master James released her hands, though he left them cuffed together. Tyler stepped away as Master James gently lowered her arms until they rested against her stomach and breasts. Viv groaned what she hoped came across as gratitude when Master James expertly massaged her shoulders and arms.

  The feeling quickly returned to her arms, and Master James leaned forward, spread her pussy lips, and thoroughly examined every crease and fold. Viv assumed he was checking to be sure she was okay after riding the horse, but he didn’t give an explanation.

  He stood and finally spoke again, his voice firm but kind as he said, “On all fours, make your way to the spanking bench.” Thankfully, he held her arms for support as she dropped to her knees, though she didn’t dare thank him out loud.

  Viv hated trying to crawl with a spreader bar between her ankles, and her hands bound together in front. There was no way to crawl gracefully, and her face burned at the humiliating hobble of left knee, right knee, hands. Her hips moved from side to side as each knee crawled forward, and she knew her pussy and ass were on full display with her feet spread so far apart.

  “I can see your cunt and asshole in the mirror,” said Master James. “Raise your head, look at me, and open your mouth. I’d like to see all your holes at once as you crawl to me.”

  Her awkward forward locomotion paused as she looked up and opened her mouth. Looking him in the eyes was harder than she’d imagined, but she clung to the knowledge her Master sat off to her left and would want her to follow this man’s orders. She wasn’t submitting to Master James, she was submitting to Tyler.

  In a flash of memory, Viv suddenly recognized the man standing above her. This was James Arrington; he was a legend. She’d even read most of his books!

  Her heart skipped a few erratic beats and she blanched inside as she recalled why he was a legend — because of the kinds of pain he inflicted, and the extremes he was known to take. She thought he’d retired from the lifestyle, and guessed he’d probably retired from writing books and teaching workshops, but he obviously still enjoyed it on a personal level, if no longer professional.

  His gaze held her in thrall as she made her way across the room. She hesitated when she reached the spanking bench, trying to figure out the best way to mount it in her current predicament, but Master James gently helped situate her knees on the padded surface, and positioned her across the angled top.

  When you looked at the spanking bench, the front seemed just a little lower than the back, but when you were on it w
ith your ass higher than your head, it felt more like a cliff than a slope.

  Working quickly, Master James secured her ankle cuffs, strapped her calves down, laced hemp rope back and forth across her back from ass to shoulder blades, and finished by anchoring her wrist cuffs so her arms stretched down and out to hold her body taut. She wouldn’t have been able to rise even if he’d left off the prickly rope over her back.

  He stood before her and she craned her neck up to meet his gaze again. He held a tawse and cane, neither of which looked familiar. Both terrified her.

  “Your Master tells me he avoids marking your thighs during the summer so you can wear shorts and bathing suits, but he’s assured me you’ll be fine with your thighs marked this late in the year.”

  He must have been making sure she would be okay with his marking her, because he waited a few seconds before stepping to her side and out of her sight.

  Viv didn’t know which implement he’d use first, but knew both would be an ordeal, and she dropped her head and wiggled her toes in an attempt to stay relaxed. Tyler considered a clenched ass disrespectful — a sign she wasn’t fully submitting.

  The first strike came to the back of her right thigh, immediately followed by a strike to her left ass cheek. The tawse.

  Viv screamed and her eyes filled with tears, and she noted her master was sitting with a view of her face, not her ass. He really did want to see her cry tonight.

  The blows started in earnest, with no discernible rhythm, and no pattern. Viv had no idea where or when the next strike would land; each caught her off guard, and the pain was unendurable.

  After perhaps two or three dozen strikes, the blows stopped and Master James’ voice intruded. “What is seventy-six minus forty-three?”

  She couldn’t think, couldn’t make her mind do math. It was like drinking four large mixed drinks and being expected to subtract. She forced herself back into the analytical part of her brain and came up with, “Thirty-three, Sir.”

  Master Tyler nodded and the cane sliced across her thighs. At least a dozen cuts rained down, again with no rhythm she could fall into. She screamed with each impact, and when the blows finally stopped, tears streamed down her face and snot ran from her nose, but she couldn’t do anything about either.

  “Thirteen times four?”

  She couldn’t do it. Her brain wasn’t capable of multiplication. Finally, she added thirteen and thirteen and came up with twenty-six and when she came up against a wall at twenty-six times two, she doubled twenty-five and added two. “Fifty-two, Sir.”

  Master James’ voice startled her, as she’d expected the blows to start again. “Tyler, please come take a look and tell me how much more she can take.”

  “I’ll trust your judgment, James. You know how much an ass can withstand before pushing the risk factors.” Viv understood Tyler was saying they stopped before the bruising became medically dangerous, not when they thought she’d had enough pain. She’d already understood tonight was about immersing her in torment and exploring how far she could be taken, but his words lit a fire in her gut, and her empty pussy. Her clit still throbbed and ached from straddling the horse, and the swelling of her arousal only made her clit scream louder.

  Master James found every ultra-tender spot as his fingers explored the bruises and welts on her ass and thighs. “If we want to keep the option of caning her for punishment, we should stop. I’ll need access to her breasts for the next phase.”

  “The bondage chair will work best. I’ll let you decide which hole the cock will go into.”

  “Which is least likely to cause physical pleasure?”

  “Her ass.”

  Master James removed the spreader bar while they talked, and now quickly released the straps and rope. His strong hands gently helped her stand, and supported her as he walked her to the bondage chair. He didn’t try to feel her up, but was the perfect gentleman as he assisted her.

  When they reached the chair, Viv accepted the condom he pulled from his pocket, rolled it onto the steel cock rising lewdly from the chair, and looked back to him.

  “Your ass won’t be lubed,” he said, offering a bottle of lubricant. “I suggest you do a good job on the cock.”

  She took special pains to make sure it was as slippery as possible.

  When she tried to return the lube bottle, he motioned for her to turn and get into position as he said, “Stretch both hands over your head and hold it as high as you can.”

  She complied, and allowed him to manipulate her body as she sat on the phallus, crying out in pain at the initial invasion, and whimpering as gravity took her the rest of the way down.

  The steel cock would warm soon enough, but in the meantime her bowels and rectum cramped from the invasion, the horrible burning stretch, and the icy chill of cold metal.

  Master James pulled her legs to either side of the chair, spread her dreadfully wide, and restrained thighs and ankles so it was impossible to bring her knees together. He finally took the lube from her raised hands, and bent her elbows until he could secure her wrist cuffs to a ring on the backside of the bondage chair. He took a few minutes adjusting the rope’s tension, pulling her wrists down until her breasts seemed to reach for the ceiling.

  Viv whimpered as Master James stepped in front of her with a bag and she recognized the hateful black clothespins inside — the cruelest clothespins they owned. He settled a stool in front of her, straddled it, and opened the bag.

  She’d only experienced the awful black clothespins twice, and had safeworded both times. Their choice made sense, as tonight was about pain. Tyler wanted to see how far she could go and still submit to more, and though she wanted to fulfill his desires, her heart sped out of control as adrenaline and fear pumped into every cell of her body.

  Viv fought her restraints in panic several long seconds before calming herself. Basic biology – the fight or flight impulse had kicked in, and her body could do neither. She could end this by touching her ring or saying her safeword, but was choosing to endure. Her training had taught her to rise above such physiological reactions, but she’d been temporarily overwhelmed.

  No one responded to her moment of panic. There were no caresses, no reassuring words, but Viv didn’t need them. It’d been a biological response, not an emotional one, and she was embarrassed to have lost control.

  Some Doms take their time finding the perfect spot for each clothespin, and relish the pain from each bite before selecting the next location. Others are only interested in placing them as quickly as possible, presumably so they can move on to whatever comes next.

  Master James fell into the latter category. To make matters worse, he scattered them at random over both breasts, the edges of her armpits, and the backs of her arms; and kept at it until the bag was empty — Tyler had never used even half of the forty-eight clothespins at once!

  She was crying again long before he finished, and screamed as he ruthlessly snapped the final two clothespins onto her already tender nipples.

  Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, she saw him lift the squid whip. Surely he wouldn’t whip them off, with that?

  “Fifty-four plus sixty-three.”

  Her mind was too cloudy, and she couldn’t climb up from the fog this time. Uncertain of her answer, but incapable of coming up with another, she said, “One hundred seven, Sir.”

  “Oh, too bad,” said Master Tyler. “That’s one wrong. Try again Viv.”

  “Can you please repeat the question, Sir?” Her voice broke as she spoke through her tears.

  “Fifty-four plus sixty-three.”

  She tried to clear her mind again, broke the equation apart — fifty plus sixty plus seven — and realized her mistake. “One hundred seventeen, Sir.”

  “Much better.” Still no warmth in her Master’s voice, but he sounded pleased.

  And then the squid whip struck, and kept striking. He kept to her breasts, but once again kept it random, with no rhythm and no discernible pattern as t
o which breast he’d strike next. Some blows jerked and twisted the clothespins without knocking them off, while others literally tore one or more of the teethed monsters off her tender skin and inflamed nerve endings. After nearly two dozen rapid strikes he stopped. “Fourteen plus twelve.”

  Shit. She didn’t want to add right now, and had to force herself back into the part of her brain capable of math. It was like trying to swim through mud, but she finally found enough clarity to come up with the answer. “Twenty-six, Sir.”

  The squid whip struck again as the last word exited her mouth. She needed to get away, escape. She started screaming at each strike, and fought her bindings despite the metal phallus stretching and holding her ass in place, and the way the clothespins on the backs of her arms bounced painfully as her torso writhed and twisted.

  The flogging stopped. “We need to restrain her upper body.”

  “Yes, it would appear so,” her Master agreed.

  Rope was looped around her chest and the chair, above and below her breasts. Tyler realized her arms were torqued too much with her torso bound to the chair, and he stepped behind her to adjust the rope so her wrists were a few blessed inches higher.

  Viv welcomed the respite from the horrible flogger, and was grateful for the security of the ropes. When the squid started again she felt the tears welling once more, and didn’t try to hold them back. She couldn’t escape the lashes; the remaining clothespins hurt, the relentless biting strands of the rubber flogger hurt, and the squid tearing the clips off hurt worse than anything. There was no comfortable rhythm, and she hated that most of all.