Page 164 of To Catch a Sub

Damien could, and would, choke her to death.

Spots danced at the edges of her vision, and her mouth opened and closed. Damien leaned in, his body painfully heavy as it ground her into the window.

“Wife,” he chided, lips near her ear. “You’re being rude.”

She tried to speak, but couldn’t. Tried to move, but was trapped.

Damien eased back, dropping his hand from her neck to her breast, squeezing hard. Colette sucked in air and coughed several times.

“You told me,” she wheezed. “Not to let anyone else touch me.”

It was a stupid, transparent ploy, but she was desperate.

It worked.

Damien grinned, his grip going from hard to soft as he stroked her breast, then ran his fingers along the healing wound he’d cut into her skin, stopping to play with the belly chains along the way. “You’re right. I did. But when I give them permission to touch you, you don’t fight.”

Colette nodded. What else could she do?

Tonsure was back on his feet, needle in hand.

“Maybe you should hold her,” Tonsure said.

“Yes,” Damien agreed, jamming one hand against the base of her throat, the other on her stomach, once more pushing her against the window. He leaned into her, hard enough her bones groaned. The glass was no longer cold against her back.

Tonsure stared at her breast with none of the calm detachment of a body modification artist. He looked excited, a smile curling the corners of his mouth.

Colette had never pierced her nipples, but she’d seen it done a time or two. Tonsure held what looked like a too-thick hollow piercing needle, and nothing else. No piercing clamp. He didn’t have the jewelry ready.

“Now?” Tonsure asked.

Damien leaned in, nodding.

Tonsure gripped her nipple with his fingers, pinching hard. Colette sucked in a pained breath, though she knew worse was to come.

Tonsure pulled her nipple, stretching it.

“Not too far back,” Damien said. “I want it through the tip.”

Tonsure nodded, pulling harder. Her skin felt like it would rip. Colette couldn’t stop the whimpers that vibrated her throat.

Tonsure positioned the angled tip of the needle against her flesh, and then shoved it through.

Colette screamed, the pain white-hot. Tonsure released her nipple, and that brought a fresh wave of bright agony.

Colette looked down, at the long silver needle piercing her nipple, a dot of blood trailing down her battered and bruised flesh.

Tonsure fitted one end of a thick-gauge, too-large, gold ring into the hollow needle end of the needle, then pulled it back, guiding the gold through her wounded flesh.

She assessed the piercing with a detached air that helped her divorce from the pain. It shouldn’t be a ring, it should be a barbell. And the ring was far too big—the weight of it tugged at her nipple.

“Now the other one. Do it fast. I want to see what she looks like with both.” Damien sounded giddy.

This time Colette didn’t watch. She turned her face into her arm, screaming when he thrust the needle through.

After the second gold ring was laced through her flesh, Damien released her. Colette swayed away from the window, the pain from her wrists and shoulders merging with the pain in her face and becoming a nice background throb for the pain in her nipples. She didn’t think nipple piercings were supposed to hurt this much. She’d seen women barely yelp when it happened, and smile through the whole thing.

Her fear and horror might have amplified the pain, but she was fairly sure the large-gauge needle and heavy jewelry weren’t something any respectable piercer would ever use.