Three Strikes (Desire Island 3)

She looked incredibly sexy. The third strike he’d given her still showed on her breast, though the welt was already fading and would probably be gone by morning. No matter, he would mark her again, and again, as it pleased him.

Reaching for one of her nipples, he rolled it between his thumb and index finger until it was fat and round. Pulling it taut, he opened one of the clamps and let it close over the base of the tender bud.

Abbie drew in a sharp breath, her eyes briefly closing as she struggled to process the pain.

Ryan did the same to the second nipple, and she again hissed in pain. He lifted the clamp chain and pressed it to her lips. “Keep it in your mouth,” he instructed. “If you let it go, I’ll punish you.”

Eyes wide with sexy fear, she accepted the chain between her lips. As she bit down on it, the chain tugged upward at her tortured nipples, causing the clamps to tighten. Ryan had to restrain himself from falling over her then and there. He couldn’t wait to fuck her again. But first, she would have to earn his cock.

Taking the second pair of clamps, he attached them on either side of her outer labia. As he worked, her breathy cries of erotic pain were like fingers caressing his rock-hard shaft. Satisfied with his labors, he rose from the bed and stood over his bound and clamped slave girl, power zinging through his blood like a powerful drug.

~*~

The clamps bit into Abbie’s nipples and squeezed painfully against her labia. The pain was easier to bear as her compressed nerve endings numbed, but it would multiply exponentially when he removed the clamps. Naked and bound, her arms and legs were pulled into a taut X by chain and leather. She was utterly helpless and at this man’s mercy.

And there was no place else she’d rather be.

She’d desperately wanted to please Master Ryan when he’d ordered her to make herself come for him. She’d tried—she really had—but for some stupid reason, her body continued to resist her. She understood that by holding back, no matter her intentions, she was still withholding a part of herself from her Master. It wasn’t just a matter of doing what he asked. Giving him full control of her orgasms—recognizing that they belonged to him as much as the rest of her—was at the core of her desired surrender. Until she found a way to overcome the last of her inhibitions, she would never truly be his.

Yet, she refused to stress about it. She was confident Master Ryan would guide her where she both needed and longed to go.

When he’d added his hand to hers, that had made all the difference. It had felt so fucking good. He knew precisely how to touch a woman, and he’d brought her very quickly to the edge of a powerful climax.

She’d been wildly frustrated when he’d pulled his hand away. But, at the same time, his refusal—or not exactly his refusal, but the very fact that he had the power to control and dictate her pleasure—thrilled her to her core.

All her life, she’d longed for this kind of intensity of experience with a true Master. And here, at last, was the man who had the knowledge, the courage and the passion to take from her everything she could give, and in so doing, give it back to her tenfold.

He held his large, hard cock in his hand, his eyes smoldering with dominant lust. Her cunt throbbed as she watched him sensually stroke himself.

One hand still on his cock, he reached out with the other and picked up the chain between the clamps that gripped her labia. As he lightly tugged at it, she grunted in pain against the metal links in her mouth. At the same time, her perverse cunt flooded with moisture.

Fuck me, she silently begged, her eyes riveted to his beautiful cock as she struggled to handle the erotic pain at her nipples and cunt. His hand was moving faster now, color rising up his neck as his breath quickened.

Consumed with lust, she writhed in her chains, desperate to feel him inside her.

Fuck me. Fuck me. Please, please fuck me.

He was panting now, a sheen of sweat breaking on his skin, his hand flying over his gorgeous cock. Just as she was reconciling herself to accept whatever he gave her without demanding more—even silently—he dropped his hand and draped his body over hers.

His hand still on his cock, he guided it between her legs. The friction caused the clamps at her cunt to pull painfully against her flesh. But she forgot about the pain as he plunged into her sopping-wet cunt.

She moaned with passion as he pummeled her in hard, rapid thrusts. But the clamps caught between their bodies distracted her, the pain making it impossible for her to focus on the delicious friction of his pubic bone grinding against her clit.