Intensifying.
Tingling.
Driving her wild while doing nothing to satisfy her.
The actual size of the plug had barely even stung, nestling inside easily, making her feel filled but not full. She wanted to be full so bad, even if it was her ass, not her pussy.
Her empty, needy, clenching pussy.
A low chuckle behind her reminded her Master Mitch was watching the show. Watching her squirm, well aware of how unsatisfactory the nipple clamps and plug were for her. The growing burn from the lube was making her pant—with desire, not with pain.
Fucking sadist.
He was getting off on this, even if she wasn’t. Domi hadn’t even considered he might torment her with less, not more. It was devilish and frustrating as hell. Especially since he was still just standing there doing nothing.
“Is this it, Sir?” she asked, taunting. “I thought you could dish out more than this.”
Master Mitch laughed aloud. Some Doms were all business inside a scene, but not him. He wasn’t afraid to laugh, and it never took away from his confidence or authority. In fact, his wicked sense of humor often made scening with him more fun. Sort of. Fun after the fact.
In the middle of it, sometimes it felt more like torture.
Like right now.
“All right then, Domi-Darling,” he drawled, and she heard him pat the wood of the table beside them. “Up on the table.”
Rat fink bastard. He helped her onto the table since she was petite enough to need the assistance. He also thoroughly enjoyed watching her ‘hop’ up and land on her butt, pushing the plug farther in and making her muscles squeeze around it in reaction. Domi’s breasts heaved, her nipples tingling from the clamps, but nothing more.
The polished wood was smooth under her back as he laid her down. There was a myriad of ways the straps attached to the table could be attached. Domi was quickly spread out in an X shape, straps over her arms, legs, and middle, so the only parts of her body she could move more than a couple of centimeters were her head, fingers, and toes.
She wriggled, testing the boundaries, but the leather straps were secure. Master Mitch’s fingers trailed over her breasts, teasing them with his light touch. Domi couldn’t even arch her back, thanks to the strap over her rib cage, holding her in place. When his fingers brushed over the sensitive tips of her nipples, she groaned in frustration, squirming even more.
“So, is this when the real punishment starts, Sir?”
The sassy question made him grin again. Instead of pinching her nipples, tugging the chain, or doing anything that would make her feel more, he moved his hand away. Her nipples throbbing with the need for more stimulation, she bit her lower lip to keep from begging for it. One blond eyebrow arched, his gaze boring into her, and Domi knew she wasn’t fooling him one bit.
“Ah, poor little masochist... is this not enough for you?”
Domi pressed her lips together to keep from answering. She was pretty sure that was a trick question.
Mitch
Untrusting little subbie. Mitch couldn’t blame her. Even sexually frustrated and tied down, she knew when a question had no good answer. Not that staying silent was going to save her.
The table she was lying on wasn’t actually one solid block of wood, although he wasn’t sure she realized that yet. They’d been in this room more than once, but there were so many things to play with, this was the first time he’d put her on the table. It had been personally designed and built by a Dom who specialized in BDSM furniture and implements for Marquis. With plenty of joints and moving parts, it could be moved into multiple configurations, all designed to torment and fuck any submissive lying atop it.
Reaching underneath the lip, Mitch flipped open a latch so he could spread Domi’s legs even farther open and also give him a space to stand between them. Her eyes widened with surprise when she felt her legs moving, and she wriggled some more, but the straps crossing her body held her tightly, regardless of the table’s changing structure.
“Such a pretty, wet pussy.” Mitch stepped between her legs and stroked his finger along the thin strip of hair she didn’t shave. Everything else was beautifully bare, leaving her sensitive folds completely unguarded. Crouching, he heard her suck in her breath in anticipation, her body tensing for whatever he was about to do.
Gently resting his hands on either side of her pussy, using his thumbs to spread her labia apart, he leaned in and licked right up the center of her folds from the base of her pussy to her swollen clit. She cried out, jerking against the restraints as his tongue swirled around the nub, then away again.
His cock, already hard from the fun of clamping, plugging, and restraining her, jerked at the sound of her pleasured moans. The crouched position wasn’t the most comfortable, so knowing his muscles would start to burn soon, he focused on pushing her quickly toward orgasm. The sweet taste of her coated his tongue, her hips moving as much as they could against the leather straps holding her down, her panting breaths coming faster and faster. Just before he was sure she was going to come, Mitch pulled away.
“No!” She jerked, shuddering. Standing, he watched as her eyes flew open, head lifting slightly, so she could glare at him.
Leaning forward, he was careful not to touch her while he picked up the final item he’d procured from the toy cabinet—a small, rubber flogger, with many tiny strands, not more than half a foot long, sprouting from the handle. It was meant for flogging particularly small, sensitive parts. Their eyes met again, and he let some of his enjoyment subside, remembering why they were actually there.
“Next time you want to say something nasty about someone, I hope you’ll remember this and think again,” he said, completely serious. “I know you regretted
