“Wait!” I cry.
Too late.
One closes on my left nipple. Then the right.
Sharp, pinching agony. I cry out, arching, ropes biting into wrists.
“These stay until sunrise,” Ivan says, voice gravel. “The belt stays in my hand until sunrise. You will remain exactly like this until the sun comes up. Understood?”
Tears burn my eyes. Rage—hot, helpless—explodes in my chest.
I stomp my feet against the floor.
“I hate you!” I scream. “You’re not my Daddy! I hate you!”
Another lash.
I howl.
The belt falls again. And again.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Never rushed.
Ivan drags it out—minutes between strokes sometimes—letting the burn build, letting anticipation twist my stomach.
My voice cracks. My legs shake. Sweat beads on my back, runs down my spine.
The pain is everywhere now. My ass, my thighs, my nipples screaming from the clamps.
And still—still—my core clenches every time leather meets skin.
By the time gray light begins to leak around the edges of the blackout curtains, I’m trembling on the edge of collapse. Legs jelly. Wrists raw. Voice gone to hoarse whimpers.
Ivan stops.
Silence except for my ragged breathing.
Footsteps.
He steps in close behind me.
One arm bands around my waist. The other slides between my thighs.
My tormentor’s fingers find me—hard, aching,desperate.
His fingers caress my shaft and then wrap around, tight.
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me like a shockwave—violent, blinding, endless. I don’t think my dick is ever going to stop shooting out my seed as my entire body convulses. My knees buckle and only his arm keeps me upright. I sob against the mattress, body convulsing, pleasure so intense it hurts.
When it finally stops, I’m spent.
Ivan reaches up. Unties the ropes and holds me to stop me from falling.
