I used the forceps on her again.
Most magnificent of all was when I bound her to the bed and used the breast pumps on her. I lounged on my nearby leather chair and read smut to her, helping her to associate the device with sex and pleasure beyond their primary purpose. A way of reclaiming what was done to her. Her arousal dripped onto the bed for a good five to ten minutes.
Once they were good and puffy red, I removed them and licked her nipples and her soaking wet pussy until I’d shattered her.
She had several breast orgasms that glorious day.
“I assure you, Briella…” I cup her chin, lifting her face to mine. She melts against me, arching her back and throat in longing. “I am a doctor and know exactly what I am doing and how to apply this, so to speak.”
“W-what do you want to do, Jude?” Her lower lip quivers when I rub my thumb along it. And then, my thumb descends until I cup her breast.
“Tonight?” I level her with my dominance. “I am piercing these.”
It doesn’t take muchto restrain her.
She thrashes with fear-induced adrenaline. I love how she claws at me like a wild thing. It reminds me of the first time I’d hauled her over my shoulder when she beat her fists against my back. How annoyingly adorable.
Her body is slick with sweat, lashes clumped with tears, but it doesn’t stop me. It never does. I don’twanther calm. Not yet. I want her raw. Responsive. Beautifully on the brink.
Her chest lurches as I secure the final metal strap across her ankle. Every limb restrained. Arms stretched above her head, wrists locked in place by the heavy steel rings attached to the overhead bar. Her legs are parted wide, knees cranked open and held in position by the cold, mechanical stirrups of the chair I specially commissioned for moments like these.
A gynecologist’s chair. Another reclaiming.
She fumes through her nose, but this is another experience I’m taking her through, another trial by fire.
I click the neck collar closed last. It forces her to look straight ahead, unable to avert her gaze. Vulnerable. Helpless. Mine.
Tonight, I’m taking her trauma, bonding it to me. Tonight, she will associate it with the beautiful piercings I’ve chosen for her.
Her pupils dilate. Fear, yes. But not only that. I read the desire in them. I glance down, smiling at the sight of her pussy creaming itself.
I reach for the prepared tray. Sterile tools gleam under the dim dungeon lights.
Her gasp is sharp. She pulls at the restraints—instinct, not thought—but they don’t budge. She’s completely at my mercy, and we both know it.
She growls, the sound feral. “You’re a sick, twisted fuck, Judas.”
I hum in agreement while swabbing her breasts with antiseptic. “Perhaps. But I’myoursick, twisted fuck. As we all are.”
My brothers gather around. Except for Raphael, who remains against the cold wall, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. My partner is soaking everything in from this night. Despite his front, I know it overwhelms him. None of us believed we would be here again.
But every single cock is hard, including his.
Rory hugs his elbows on her right-hand side with that sadistic smirk. “Would ye like some meat to distract yourself, Firecracker?”
“Go to hell,” she snaps back.
When Seth tries to stroke her hair, she screeches and snaps at him. He merely stares at her sweetly, adoringly.
Her nipples are already taut, practically begging for it.
“How much is this going to hurt?” she asks, pouting, and the sight shoots more arousal through me.
I pinch both nipples between my gloved fingers, gauging them, feeling her twitch. “On a scale of one to ten, considering your unique sensitivity…nine.”
She groans, and it pitches into a breathy snarl when I flick one nipple again. Her whole body shivers in the chair. She’s incandescent like this—fighting it and aching for it all at once.
I clamp the first nipple. She yelps, jerking against the cuffs, but they hold. Good. I need her completely still.
