by Sophia Vice
I nod, and he kisses me on the cheek before I get out of the car.
I am obedient and begin the process of cleaning up my apartment, but every time I move I can feel the material of my bra rubbing against my clamped nipples. I’m needy and desperate, and more than once I have to catch myself before my hand drifts between my thighs.
This is worse than a spanking, I decide. The man is some kind of female torture expert. With every minute that passes with my clamped nipples throbbing and my whole body yearning for release, I find myself more desperate to see him. I feel like I’ll do anything if he will let me come—anything to please him.
My apartment is small, so once I’ve picked up all the trash, stuffed my clothes back into their drawers, and loaded the dishwasher, it is already looking far better than it did. I top it off by vacuuming and mopping, something I may have only done once since I moved in. Paying my bills only takes a few minutes, which makes me feel ridiculous for procrastinating for so long. After all that I still have time to go to the grocery store, so I do. I pick up my usual fare of bread, frozen pizza, chips, and cookies. Not exactly healthy, but I don’t know how to cook anyway, and it isn’t as if he’s going to raid my cupboard, right?
Back at my gleaming apartment I sit on the sofa and moan softly as the movement jostles my clamped nipples. Being at the store was an embarrassing, arousing nightmare. I felt so filthy having my nipples clamped in public. When I reached to get something off of a shelf I would sometimes have to stop myself from hissing from the sharp tug of the clamps. People would glance at me and I would feel shame wash over me. Could they somehow tell? Was I acting strange?
To distract myself from satisfying my urges I open up my package of cookies and proceed to stuff my face.
Must. Not. Touch. Myself.
I’m learning control, see?
Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. I get up, startled. It’s only 11:45, so Adam must be here early.
I swing open the door to find him leaned against the doorframe, mouthwateringly handsome in his suit. His eyes sparkle with mischief, and I can see him grow increasingly amused as his eyes scan me.
I look down to see what’s so funny, only to see that my chest and my shirt are covered with cookie crumbs. Embarrassed, I wipe them away and they fall to the floor.
“You didn’t see anything,” I mumble.
Laughing, he pulls me in for a kiss. “Couldn’t wait for lunch, baby?”
He kisses me some more, and my knees go week. He leans in, brushing some hair off of my neck so he can kiss me there too. “Do you need me to take those clamps off? Do they hurt?” he whispers, his breath ghosting past the shell of my ear.
I nod, embarrassed by how much wearing them has turned me on.
He steps into the apartment and closes the door behind us. “Take your shirt off. Bra too.” His command is cold and clear. How does he switch like that so quickly? It’s like he is two personalities rolled into one.
I shiver, hesitating for a moment before I lift the shirt off of my head and unsnap my bra. His eyes are hungry on my skin but they are also evaluative. That look he gives me—when he’s ordering me around and checking to see if I obey—makes me instantly wet.
I stand topless, my nipples crushed by the cruel clamps and the delicate chain hanging between my breasts. He steps forward and circles a nipple with a finger, making me hiss.
“Have you learned your lesson?” He jostles the clamp with a snap of a finger, and I cry out in pain.
“Yes! Yes, I’m sorry sir.”
He smiles. “And?”
I have to swallow down my pride. “I’ll be more respectful in the future, sir.”
Approval shines in his eyes, and it sends heat straight to my needy core. “Good girl. Think about that as I take these off.”
He removes the first clamp without warning, and I cry out, my voice breathless with the sudden pain. He surprises me by quickly sucking the abused nipple into his mouth, and the sharp pain dies down to a heavy throb as he soothes me with his tongue.
“Oh god,” I moan as he gently laves my nipple. It’s a delicious erotic pain, and I’m so primed I feel like I could come just from him doing this.
“Now the other,” he murmurs, unlatching from my left nipple.
“No, no, I can’t,” I plead, putting my hand over his to stop him.
He puts my hand back to my side, looking at me gently. “Baby, it’s got to come off. Finish your punishment like a good girl. I’m proud of you for taking it so well.”
He releases the clamp and I scream again before he repeats the process of soothing my nipple with his mouth.
I’m panting by the time he finishes, and I look at him expectantly as he rises, awaiting his next kinky order.
He grins. “Ready for lunch?”
My mouth falls open. “You can’t leave me like this.”
His smile takes on a dark edge. “Can’t I? As I recall, I’m calling the shots, and you’ve been a bad girl this morning. I don’t think you deserve a reward until you show me you can be good.”
A hot current of shame runs through me, followed quickly by desire. He talks to me like I’m an errant school girl.
Which I guess, in a way, I am, being a college drop-out and all.
The restaurant is fancy, but not in a pretentious or old-school way. Everyone is dressed casually but you can tell that it is an expensive establishment from the interior design. The lights are made of fine strips of wood curled around edison bulbs and one side of the room has a wall of nooks full of artificial candles that cast off a warm yellow glow. The music is some kind of Euro-chic beat that instantly makes me feel not cool enough.
The waitress appears to know Adam, and she gives him a flirtatious once over as she leads us to our table.
Step off, I think, and I’m surprised by my own jealousy.
We’re seated in a private corner, and I smile frostily at the waitress as she hands me my menu and then Adam’s before telling us she’ll be back with water.
I look over at Adam. He opens his menu, a corner of his mouth lifted in a trademark smirk.
“What?”
He glances up at me, biting his lip. “You’re a little territorial, aren’t you, kitten?”
I blush and hide behind my own menu. It’s Asian fusion, and everything on the menu looks to die for. Japanese-sweet potato umami bowl, squash miso, Dungeness-crab and avocado watercress sushi roll…
Even though my financial restrictions prevent me from enjoying it all the time, it’s this kind of thing that I love about living in the city. The amazing variety of foods, things to do, and the metropolitan mix of cultures. It’s the polar opposite of the podunk town my brother and I came from.
I frown at my menu. I’m going to be going back to that town if I can’t get some rent together for this month. Would my parents even take me back? Will I have to go to my brother, my tail between my legs?
“Hey.” Adam’s deep voice breaks me out of my doomsday thoughts. “What’s wrong?” He reaches across the table and grasps my hand in his, and my heart grows tender. I love that he can be Mr. Sexy and Stern one moment and so caring the next. A girl could get used to it.
I shrug, and I open my mouth to speak when I’m interrupted by the waitress pouring our waters and letting us know she’ll be back shortly for our orders. She frowns slightly at Adam’s hand over mine on the table, and I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at her.
“Before you say anything,” Adam purrs, “let me remind you that complete honesty is one of the rules. And you’ve already been a bad girl today.” His eyes flick down to my chest, and I know that he’s thinking about how he punished my nipples.
Heat and wicked desire flow through me, and I can feel the phantom ache of the nipple clamps.
I shake my head to clear away the fog in my brain. How does he turn me into a complete puddle of want with just a few words and a look? I glance at him, but his steel grey eyes are heavy-lidded, staring back at me with predatory intent.
“I can’t even think if you keep looking at me like that,” I admit, trying to hold my smile in check.
His answering grin is a tiger’s smile. “Poor baby,” he rumbles, “you’re going to have to learn how to adjust.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but I’m grinning now too.
“So? Let’s hear it.” His thumb strokes over the back of my hand, sending my nerves skittering.
Right. Honesty. Anxiety and shame swirl through me as I realize that I’m going to have to admit that I’m completely destitute. His rules and punishments definitely have their downsides, I’m beginning to learn.
“I’m completely broke,” I say baldly, deciding to take the direct approach and face the humiliation head on. “If I don’t find a job within the next few days, I probably won’t be able to pay my rent. I’ll have to move back to my hometown or be homeless.”
“That is not happening,” Adam grinds out, the expression in his eyes hard. “You aren’t going back there. You also won’t be sleeping on the streets. Not as long as you’re mine.”
My mouth pops open. This isn’t the first time he’s called me his, but every other time my mind was too sex-addled to protest. Now, however, I have to object. “First of all,” I say, taking a sip of my water to gather myself, “maybe I’m your girlfriend or…” he has never said he is your boyfriend! I realize, and flush. “Or something,” I backtrack, “your plaything, for as long as it suits both of us, but that does not make me yours.”
Adam leans in so that we are almost nose-to-nose over the intimate bistro table. I can smell his minty breath and his cologne and that scent of pure alpha male, and I breathe shallowly, trying to keep my head on straight. “Make no mistake baby,” he whispers, his lips tickling the shell of my ear, “you are all three. My girlfriend, my plaything, and mine.” He smirks, sitting back in his seat. “For as long as it suits both of us, as you say.”
His cocky words make my heart beat a fast tattoo in my chest, and I try to slow my breathing as Adam watches, knowing exactly what effect he has on me. Despite myself I can feel my panties moistening. I know I should be offended, but I’m just turned on.
“Secondly,” he goes on, his hands splaying out on the table, “I know I said I wouldn’t make you talk about this before you were ready, but I can’t let you go back to your parents. Your brother and I have been good friends for a long time, and he’s told me enough about how you both grew up for me to know that you’ve endured abuse. No child should have to raise themselves. You and Jason never got to really be kids and be cared for.”
Tears begin to prick my eyes at how he articulates something I’ve never fully admitted to myself. “It’s not a big deal,” I mumble, “a lot of kids grow up that way.”
“No,” he shakes his head, his eyes somber. “If I ever meet your parents, it will be hard for me to control myself and not tell them off. They should never have had the right to raise you. They didn’t deserve that privilege.”
Tears are falling freely from my face now. He tilts his head, his eyes shining with sincerity. “Oh, Kyle, babygirl, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmurs, his brows pulling together in concern.
How does this man make me burn with arousal one moment, and then cry the next? How did he unlock all of the pain of my past so easily and with so much tenderness?
“I’m going to the restroom,” I blurt, and I jump up before he can respond.
In the bathroom I wipe at my eyes and take deep calming breaths. Somehow, I’m relieved that Adam doesn’t look down on me for the way I was raised. The look in his eyes wasn’t condescension or pity, it was…anger. Anger on my behalf.
A warm glow lights up inside of me, and swells until it burns the tears away.
“I ordered for you,” Adam says when I return, and I nod, embarrassed that I cried in public once again.
“I guess,” I start, swallowing down all of my pride as I sit, “I could stay with Jason for a while, at least until I get back on my feet.”
Adam takes a long drink of his water. “I doubt that Jason has a lot of room in his apartment right now,” he comments dryly.
“Why’s that?”
“His fiancé is living with him.”
My jaw drops to the floor. “If Jason had a fiancé, I think I would know about it,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.
He raises an eyebrow. “Would you? The reason I came into that cafe you were working at was because Jason sent me, Kyle. He’s desperate to be in touch with you, but you ignore all of his calls because you’re running scared.”
Anger ignites in my blood. “Well, thank you for the psychoanalysis, but I am not scared of talking to Jason. I just don’t need his judgment about me losing my scholarship and everything.”
Adam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “He loves you, Kyle, and he just wants what’s best for you. You’re hurting him by pushing him away. You need to meet with him.”
I shrug. “I will when I’m ready, or when I need to.”
He leans in. “Well, you better be ready, because you’re having breakfast with him in the morning.”
“What?” My nails dig into the edge of the counter. “You can’t just make arrangements like that for me! I’m my own woman.”
“No, as I said earlier, you’re my woman. Do you want to try disobeying?”
Small internal muscles clench at the dark promise in his eyes, but I shake my head. “No. This morning was enough punishment.”
“Good,” he purrs. “I’m glad you’re being a good girl and learning your lesson.”
“Um,” interrupts the waitress, who has snuck up on us with plates in hand, “here is your Japanese sweet potato, and the salmon salad.”
I turn as pink as the salmon on my salad as she walks away. “Oh my god,” I moan, “she heard us.”
Adam grins. “She’s just jealous.”
I scowl at him, but I can’t hold on to my irritation once I take my first bit of the salad. The flavors are delicate and fresh with a little kick. I moan. “This is so good.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Adam’s cool grey eyes warm as he watches me eat before taking his first bite. “This is one of my favorite restaurants.”
“You have good taste.”
“I know.” He looks at me pointedly, and I blush again as his eyes rove over me slowly. He’s undressing me with his eyes.
He thinks I’m evidence of his good taste? “I wouldn’t be most men’s first choice,” I say, skeptical.
Adam looks at me with disapproval. “Don’t talk about yourself that way. You’re beautiful. I will tell you that every day until you believe it.”
I look down, embarrassed as I nod, but I secretly smile into my food.
He may be a control freak, but I think I’m learning that he’s a romantic too.
10
Adam
After my lunch with Kyle, the rest of my day passes quickly, but I’m troubled by what my pet admitted to me. She’s in financial trouble, and I know she’s stubborn about asking for help.
I wish I could make her problems go away and give her the money to pay her rent, and I probably would do that if we had a normal, vanilla relationship. But I don’t want to muddy the waters of what we have going. I am not her sugar daddy, and I don’t want to worry that she’s only going along with my kinks for the money.
That would fucking devastate me, to be honest, because I am finding myself more and more attracted and bewitched by Kyle as time goes on. Her smile, her laugh, her personality, her sweet pussy: it’s all like an addictive nectar that pulls me in.
I need her to be with me because she wants to be with me, and nothing more. I’ve had women stick around for just my credit cards before, and then they leave me after they’ve bought a fortune of designer handbags, jewelry, and clothes.
Never again. I want things with Kyle to be real. I want her to want my domination because it makes her wet, not because it makes her wallet fat.
I mull over wha
t I’m going to do about her situation as I drive to her apartment after work. I know I should probably give her a day away from me and take things slow, but I can’t get her out of my head.
I want her every second. It took monumental restraint not to fuck her when I took off her nipple clamps this afternoon, and it will be a struggle not to bend her over the sofa the second I walk in the door. I have to remind myself that I’m just picking her up, and that once I have her back at my place I can take my time with her and do all the things I so badly want to do to her body.
I park and take the steps two at a time. I knock and Kyle opens the door wide, smiling shyly as she leans against the frame.
“Wow,” I compliment her as I kiss her cheek, surveying the now clean apartment. I was so caught up in how sexy she looked when I took off her nipple clamps earlier that I didn’t even notice what a good girl she had been. “I didn’t know you had hardwood floors in here.”
She punches me in the arm. “Very funny.” She tries to look scolding, but she breaks down and beams at me, clearly proud of herself.
I ruffle her hair before I draw her in for a kiss. “You were a good girl today. Do you know what good girls get?”
She shakes her head.
“A reward. Back at my place.” I wink at her, and she blushes.
In the past I mostly went out with girls that were in the kink scene, and even if they were vanilla, they’d been around. Kyle, on the other hand, is beautifully innocent.
It turns me on so fucking much. I want to show her every last trick in my book and make her scream.
I take her hand in mine. “Are you ready to go?”
She laughs. “One track mind.”
I shrug, chuckling. “Guilty as charged.”
She locks up her apartment and I tug her along at a quick clip, eager to begin our night together. I had to suppress a boner the last tedious hour of work as I thought of what I wanted to do to her tonight.
I’m going to tie her up, spank her naughty little pussy, and make her come as many times as she can stand. I want to overload her with pleasure and make her scream.
