The Boss (The Boss 1)

“Oh.” I took a deep breath at the sight. I’d heard about stuff like this before, and seen it on the internet in some very enlightening videos, but I never really thought I would get a chance to try it out. I’d never been entirely sure that my previous partners wouldn’t make fun of me for expressing an interest.

Now, here was a partner who not only wouldn’t laugh, but who’d taken the initiative to make one of my fantasies a reality. Even though he couldn’t have possibly known.

He set the box and paddle on the shelf below his suit jackets. “You’re not running away, that’s encouraging.”

“I wouldn’t leave right now if this place were on fire.” I pressed my thighs together. “Please, Neil.”

“Turn around.” His voice was suddenly gruff, and that only made me hotter. “What are you to call me?”

“Sir,” I purred, unable to stop the giddy smile that broke across my face.

I gave a sideways glance to the mirror and saw him smiling to himself, too, as he pulled the clamps from their black velvet bed. “Can I trust you to keep your eyes open?”

I shivered. “Yes, Sir.”

“If you keep your eyes open, I will let you come before we leave this room. If you close them, I’ll make you wait a very, very long time. Do you understand?”

“What about blinking, Sir?”

He swatted my behind lightly. “Obviously blinking is allowed. But I want you to see yourself coming, Sophie.”

“Oh.” My chest jerked with my sudden breath.

He lifted one of the nipple clamps and slid the ring down to adjust the tension. Though the clamps were open as wide as they could go, they still dug firmly into my nipple when he pushed them into place. The tightness was immediate and intense, but he slowly slid the ring toward my nipple, one tiny push at a time. “Tell me when it’s too much.”

I was sorely tempted to say “when!” and call the whole thing off, but once the initial shock of the new sensation wore off, I found myself wondering with a sort of perverted curiosity how much I could take. I groaned as the tension grew, felt my eyes fluttering closed, but then I remembered his warning, and what he’d promised.

The deep, burning pinch grew too uncomfortable, and I gasped, “too much,” before he released some of the tension, just a bit. Then, with the same careful attention, he repeated the process on the other side. When I looked in the mirror, I saw my nipples, dark red between the black pinchers of the clamps, and felt the motion of the dangling jewels in my swollen, aching breasts.

He lifted the jewels of one clip with his index finger. “Do you like them?”

I nodded. The sensations they caused were so keen and bizarre. While they did hurt, it wasn’t an unbearable pain, and the tips of my nipples, caught between the long, slender teeth of the clamps, were already more eager, pleading to be touched. When he let go of the jewel, the swinging motion of even that slight weight seemed to shudder through my whole body. He spread his hand and touched me lightly with just the fleshy pads below his fingers, slowly brushing back and forth over my aching nipple. Even that gentle caress seemed like lightning through me.

He lifted my breasts in his hands, bent his head to flick his tongue over the throbbing points constrained by the clamps. I gasped at the amplified feeling, the familiar pull that made my cunt grasp helplessly. But all too soon, he let me go, to stand there full and heavy and aching as he looked me over.

“Would you like to come now, Sophie?” he asked, cupping my cheek and tilting my head up to look into my eyes.

“Yes, please, Sir.” Was that my voice, all needy and tremulous? Could that really be me?

He pulled me against him, his soft sweater like briars against my oversensitive breasts. I imagined them swelling, filling, growing ripe like peaches straining at their own skin. He stepped back and pulled his sweater over his head, and I wanted him to embrace me again, to bring our naked skin together. Instead, he dropped to his knees before me, reminding me, “Keep your eyes open, or I’ll stop.”

Parting me with his thumbs, he leaned forward and swiped his tongue over my straining clit. A long moan of relief tore from my throat, and my eyes began to slide closed, but I stopped myself, fixing my gaze on our reflection. On his big hand grasping my thigh through the stretched black silk of my stocking. On his tongue curling out to taste me, his lower lip dragging over my engorged flesh as he sucked my clit into his mouth.

He drove me crazy tapping with his tongue one moment, licking in long, steady strokes the next. He growled against me, his fingers sinking into my thigh as he jerked my leg over his shoulder. I couldn’t move away from him, not without falling on my ass; I had to trust him to hold me up, because I couldn’t do it myself at the moment.