I don’t want limits. I never do.
I breathe. I calm myself. I trust in the power of submission.
And then I spread my legs as wide as my shackled ankles allow, swaying in my bonds.
“No, Master. My clit is yours.”
“Really? We’ll see, shall we?”
Sensory deprivation is a beast for heightening disorientation. I flinch as fresh hands take hold of me from either side to keep me firmly in position. My tits are throbbing like hell, beginning to ache as well as spark, and I figure the needles will start there. I brace myself for it.
The hood makes it such a shock when my master targets my ribcage instead. His pinch is savage as he grabs enough flesh for a decent piercing on my left side. The jab of the needle makes me hiss in pain, but he gives me no time to recover, just pinchesmy flesh in a meticulous routine, going downwards, spearing me with fine needles and leaving them threaded through. They must be barely a centimetre apart. So many of them, I lose count. The train of pain they leave behind is nasty. Prickles of throbbing hot pain that blur as one.
My master may have been right, even though I don’t want to admit it. I may not make it through this to the very end… the idea of him stabbing my swollen clit with a needle is insane…
I’m so relieved when my pain slut instincts begin to truly take over, and the endorphins start to flow. By the time my master has pierced far enough down to reach my hip bone, I’m ready for every evil little spear. I murmur, but don’t cry out as he starts up on the other side of my ribcage. He creates another ladder of silver thorns from the underside of my heaving bound tit, all the way down, in parallel. Two columns of glinting sin.
I must be bleeding. Trickling blood from tiny wounds.
There are shuffles and groans around me once my master is done with the second round. I feel eyes on the work in progress, and arch my back to stretch for them, even though it makes the tiny spears sting even worse.
“How does it feel?” my master asks me, and I smile a hedonistic grin under my hood as he runs his finger down one of the ladders.
“It hurts, Master. But it feels amazing.”
“Good.” He runs a finger down the other ladder. “Because it’s going to get a lot worse, do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes, Master.”
He drags the point of a needle across one of my swollen tits, then pricks one of my nipples with just the tip and I yelp like a bitch. My God, he’s going to fuck me up so bad.
“Stunning,” he says, and then his mouth lands, sucking on one of my tits.
Jesus Christ, how I wish I could hold his head to me, because it feels so good. My feet dangle as I squirm, because my clit is begging for touch, pulsing with need. I’m whimpering, practically delirious with pain slut pleasure when he moves across to my other tit, because I could come from this. Even with two fucking columns of vicious piercings and my tits trussed up in twine, I could come like this. My clit is screaming.
He pulls away with a smack of his lips.
“Get her ready, everyone.”
Two hot mouths latch onto my straining nipples in sync, and they suck. They suck long and hard and I’ve never experienced anything like it, as pulses of heightened pleasure seem to get drawn through my tits all the way down to my desperate clit. I moan and push at their mouths for more, knowing that I’ll come if they keep this up.
These two really know what they’re doing now, both of them biting down and stretching my nipples in their teeth. Fuck, this is so damn good.
“Change it up,” my master says and I could cry when the two hot mouths leave me aching for more.
Different mouths gorge on me, sucking and biting, and hands slap my throbbing tits between rounds. Fingers pinch and flick at my nipples, and tongues tease me, and all I can do is beg.
My pussy! Please, please, touch my pussy!
I’m so wet, I can feel it trickling down my thighs.
I’m a fish on a line, offering up my pussy as a bustle of strangers punish my bursting tits, and this is where I belong.
Someone’s nails scratch their way down one of the pierced columns on my ribs and pain spikes white through my head, but I don’t care, all it does is makes me smile a crazy smile.
“Stop,” my master says when the slaps have built me to a frenzy, and I groan in protest, my clit on the very tip of coming from nipple play. One touch, and I would be done for.
So fucking unfair.
