(I promise there will be more chapters of that story, I promise. But just now…my head is full of Him. ~nilla~)


I’m in the corner.

It’s a comfortable corner, a niche really, I told you that before. I fit in it well. The tv is loud to my right, and he is moving around somewhere behind me. I hear noises and am torn between listening harder (not easy with the tv so loud) and not listening harder (because do I really want to know what he’s doing there?).

My friend sofia calls this “liminal time” –the time between. It’s a time of pause. I’m not worried, or scared, though I will admit that on my drive to meet him I kept thinking

“Why. why does a sane, kinda sane, woman go to meet with someone who is going to whack the tar outta her? Why?”

And then he walks in…. I see his face, kiss him, smell him, (oh, the smell of him…mmmmmmmmm….) and I remember the first part of the why. Because…he is who he is. My master, my Dom, the guy that I love. The one who makes me laugh with pure joy, then smacks me a good one that drives me to tears. He fills the empty places in me.

I feel him approach. His heat, then his scent, then his body leaning against me for a moment. There’s a wonderful dichotomy there in that one moment, where change is about to occur. I’m at once at peace, his body resting on mine, and just as suddenly cranked up to nervous level 10.

His hand grips my arm, whipping me around. My  nipple is squeezed between his fingers, and he makes this low ‘hmmming” sound low in his throat. My pussy clenches, and I sweat a little. A quick hard pinch and I feel the bite of the clamp. OUCH, I yelp.

“oh, shut up,” he growls.

I can’t help it. I giggle. Iths the tone of him, that “gruff old man” voice.  He’s not impatient with me (though it reads that way here); he just can’t be bothered listening to my little whines at this stage of the game. He does the other nipple, and that one hurts even more. I can’t explain that, either. Is it because I know what’s coming? Is it because suddenly the chain is now hanging down, a thick chain with some heft to it?  I don’t have time to think about all the whys, because he’s grabbed my tits, giving them a hard squeeze, then flips me back into the corner, clamped nipples smushed up against the wall.

The pain begins to flow through them, licks of hot fire. The hot fire begins to build in other places, too. It doesn’t take long before he notices.




2 thoughts on “Clamped

    1. He didn’t leave me there. But he had no problem throwing me on the bed WITH THE CLAMPS STILL ON…and laughed when I moaned about it.

      Man, you sadists.



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