Sting

The sharp tug on her nipple was unexpected. She knew he was up to something; she had been listening to him prowl around the room while she stood, lashed to the tall poster of their bed.

“OW!” she gasped and cried, writhing a bit in her bonds.

“What? This?” and she felt a matching pinch on her other nipple. Oh it hurt! That bastard!  Easy for him to say “what?” in that breezy, carefree way.

“Hurts!”

“Of course it hurts, slut. Why do you think I like it so much? I love the way you move as your body fights the pain, then relaxes into it.”

She held her tongue. He liked looking at her. Those words hung there between them. She was middle aged. Out of shape. Had wrinkles in places they didn’t show on tv.  And he loved the way she looked?

Gods.

His palms stroked over her breast, soothing and tickling. She arched her back, lifting her breasts to his hand, seeking more. So nice, so teasing and gentle. The swat caught her by surprise. He hit the clamp hanging on the tip of  her nipple.

“FUCK!” she jolted. Fucking blindfold! She had no idea what he was going to do next. He was mixing pleasure and pain for her, and she was having trouble keeping up! Yet she felt the throb begin between her thighs. Gods,  gods, that he could do this to her so fast. She hadn’t wanted to. Was tired. Long day. Stress. Laundry. Burnt toast. Almost out of gas. Commute. Rude coworkers. Fucking upper management.

It all fell away.

There was only her nipples, and his hand. Just now she couldn’t remember her boss’s name, the make of car she drove, or her favorite color. All she knew was the searing build-up of heat and pain in her nipples….and the wetness between her thighs.

There was a hum and the sudden shocking presence of the bulbheaded vibe, pressed against the apex of her thighs. Her legs trembled, her knees shook.

Pain, waves of it from her nipples.

Pleasure, waves of it, from her pussy.

She felt the sting of both, before she felt his warm breath against her ear.

“cum.”