Claimed Darker by Em Brown
Chapter 14
BRIDGET
Past
The “fun stuff” Darren referenced is a latex rubber outfit with fishnet stockings and high-heeled shoes. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever put on outside of Halloween.
“The design is from Midori Badeaux,” he explains as I gaze at the outfit hanging on his bathroom door. “Some say she’s the next Atsuko Kudo.”
“I don’t know who that is,” I say.
“Kudo is a designer who’s done outfits for Madonna and Lady Gaga.”
Seeing the crotchless string bikini and a partial bodysuit that opens up beneath the breasts and doesn’t cover the pelvic area except along the sides where it continues to the legs, I say, “I’m not wearing that down to the club.”
“I’ll let you wear a cover over it for tonight.”
Before I don the outfit, however, Darren has me strip naked and stand in his shower, which is even nicer than the one at the resort in Phuket, with sleek, contemporary touches like recessed lighting in the ceiling, steam shower option, and a dozen acupressure jets.
“Can we take out the vibrator first?” I ask as I secure my hair atop my head with a tie.
“It’s waterproof.”
“I assumed that already.”
Rolling up his sleeves, he applies shaving cream to my public hair. “We’re going beyond a trim tonight.”
I’d already shaved the bikini area for Phuket, but that’s as much as I’ve ever done. I watch as he takes a razor and slowly glides it over my hairs. Little by little, my bush gets smaller and smaller.
“You’re shaving it all?” I ask when he rinses off the razor and attends what’s left.
When he’s done, he runs his hand over my bare mound. “Feel how smooth it is.” He takes my hand and brushes my finger against skin that’s never seen daylight before.
“Shower off and get dressed,” he tells me before exiting the bathroom.
I run my hand several more times about my pubis. It feels strange, maybe erotic.
After toweling myself dry, I proceed to pull on the bodysuit, which manages the cover my nipples and the sides of my breasts. There’s a large opening, though, from the stomach all the way to the thighs, where the fishnet stockings attach.
Darren is in the great room in his own outfit: leather pants and a leather shirt with a mesh panel down the middle so that I can see the ridges of his pecs and abdominal muscles. Unconsciously, I lick my bottom lip.
His eyes light up when I step into the room.
“You picked these shoes to torture me, didn’t you?” I ask.
He grins. “Told you I was a sadist, didn’t I?”
“So what am I wearing over this?”
He hands me a trench coat of his. I put it on and we take the stairs down to the club. The stairs drop us right into the BDSM side.
“You know that vibrating egg thing is still in me,” I remark as we head up to the room we used last time.
“I know,” Darren answers. “I’ve got the controller with me.”
As if to prove it, he turns it on. Maybe I shouldn’t have reminded him, though now that I know what to expect, I’m able to derives pleasure from it more easily. Plus, the vibrations are on low and relatively manageable.
“What are we going to do today?” I ask.
He smiles. “For me to know and you to find out, but we’re going to start with a punishment.”
“A punishment? Why?”
“You forgot to ask to come.”
“When?”
He undoes the coat and pulls it off me. “When you were sitting alone at the table.”
“You weren’t around!”
“You’ve got to learn to hold it.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “I didn’t know the rule applied even when you’re not around.”
“Anywhere. Anytime.”
I make a face. “What if I’m at my own apartment?”
“It’s easier if the rule applies universally. Otherwise, it’s too hard to keep track of all exceptions.”
“What if I can’t get ahold of you?”
He leads me to a diagonal cross in one corner of the room. “Then you’ll have to wait.”
Of course, he wouldn’t know any better what I did in the privacy of my apartment, but he’d ask me at some point, and lying doesn’t come too naturally to me.
“I can’t believe this,” I say as he raises my left wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Shackling you to the St. Andrew’s cross.”
He secures the cuff about me and pulls my right wrist to the other corner. Then he cuffs my ankles to the bottom corners of the cross.
He steps back and takes in the sight. “You know I pictured this the first time we met?”
My cheeks burn. He’d had sexual thoughts that early?
“Really?” I ask, flattered.
“I knew right away you were someone who needed a damn good spanking.”
Maybe not so flattered.
“How long is this going to last?” I ask. My feet already feel sore from the heels.
“Depends how well you take your punishment.”
“What’s the punishment?”
He walks over to the cabinet and opens one of the smaller drawers. “We’re going to start with nipple clamps. This set is good for beginners.”
Sauntering back to me, he shows me the pair of silver clamps joined by a chain link. He pulls one breast, then the other out of the bodysuit. Lowering his head, he takes a nipple into his mouth. I groan. Currents shoot from my nipple to my pussy, which is already buzzing with desire. Even with the vibrations on low, I could come like this, with Darren sucking on my nipple. He switches to the other nipple, and I start to writhe from the attention to the sensitive bud. This feels so good. His tongue feels so good. His mouth feels so good.
But I knew it wouldn’t last.
“Breathe in,” he instructs.
As I release my breath, he applies one of the clamps. Feeling a tight pinch, I whimper.
He clamps my other nipple. This time it’s a little closer to the tip.
“Ow, ow, ow,” I cry.
“Breathe,” he tells me before adjusting the first clamp to match the second.
I shake my head.
“You’ll get used to them,” he says next.
I doubt that, but I forget about my poor nipples for a second when he turns up the vibration. Oh my God, that feels good. Great. Fantastic.
If I focus, I can come fairly soon, but I don’t think he plans for me to come yet because he returns to the cabinet and retrieves the flogger from the night before.
He warms me up by slapping the outside of my thighs, then flicks the flogger at the top of my thighs. Then he lands the flogger on my arms. I yelp when the tails hit my sides next, a little too close for comfort to my breasts. The tips strike my stomach. I cry at the sting. The side of a breast is next, and my whole body jumps. The flogger nearly hit my nipple, which I doubt would feel very good. I’m either lucky or he has good aim.
“You remember what you’re being punished for?” he asks, whipping the flogger at my inner thigh.
“Not asking your permission to come!” I exclaim.
He tugs on the chain of the nipple clamps, pulling my nipples away from me. I scream through gritted teeth.
“Think you’ll do better next time?”
“Yes, yes!”
He releases the chain. Mother friggin…something.
“Spell it out,” he commands as his free hand pushes aside the panties and rubs my clit.
My mouth drops. The combination of his fingers and the vibrations feel crazy good.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
“Tell me what you’re going to be better at.”
“I’m going to be better at asking permission.”
“Sir.”
“Sir. Can I come now?”
“Not yet.”
My toes curl, and I dig my fingers into my palms. “Please.”
He slips the handle of the flogger between my breasts and uses it to pull on the chain.
Tears sting my eyes. “Owwww.”
“You’re taking your punishment well, Bridge.”
I start panting. I wish I never had nipples.
“You can come now.”
The relief and excitement I feel is yanked away along with the nipple clamps. I emit a bloodcurdling scream. Seconds after, the vibrations increase, catapulting me into my climax. I shake and quiver violently on the cross. Ecstasy overflows in my veins. It feels like it could go on and on, and my body won’t last.
Darren curls his finger inside me, and I know he’s going for a second orgasm. Part of me wants it, part of me doesn’t. But I go for it. Even though my whole body is vibrating, even my teeth.
Oh geez, oh God, oh geez, oh God.
Rapture so intense it feels like a punch in the gut erupts through me. My body heaves, banging against the cross. He shoves his fingers into me a few more times, before withdrawing and turning down the vibrations.
I gasp for breath. I throb everywhere. Moisture rains down my legs.
After a minute, Darren uncuffs my ankles and wrists. He sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the sofa. Sitting down, he holds me in silence till I’m done quivering.
“How was it?” he asks.
“…Wow,” I manage. “But I don’t think I want my nipples touched for at least a week.”
“Like this?” he teases, lightly pinching one.
I cry out and whack him on the chest. But he tweaks my other nipple. I yelp, then hit him again.
“Stop!” I cry.
“These are my nipples. I get to do with them whatever I want,” he responds.
He tries to reach for the first nipple again. I decide I’d better just flee. But when I try to wiggle away, he slams me down on the sofa and covers me with his body. Our gazes lock. I want him to kiss me so badly, but he doesn’t. Probably because of the darn stitches.
“You belong to me, Bridge. Every part of you belongs to me.”
He’s got to be joking, but he sounds undeniably serious. And he’s staring at me like I shouldn’t dare contradict him.
I don’t say anything. But if I were to, it would just be to confirm that what he said is absolutely true.
