Pain Slut Page 9

  Bowser held me like that a moment longer, increasing the tension fractionally until I stopped breathing. He pulled the rawhide laces gently over the top of my head, and I exhaled. “Chin up.” He fastened the rawhide to a ring on the back of the table. Now, if I pulled my head forward even a little, I was in danger.

  I took a couple of deep breaths.

  “That’s right,” Bowser said quietly. “Breathe.”

  I nodded slightly, feeling the pull of the hooks. “Cock ring,” I said.

  “Drix.” Bowser reached into a drawer of the stand and took out a skin stapler and a staple remover. Set them on the stand. “Could you go to Miles’s bag and find a cock ring, please? There should be a steel one with a little ball on it.”

  I listened to Drix walk to my bag and rummage in it. I couldn’t move my head to see him, and having him out of my sight left me surprisingly unnerved. I caught Bowser’s eye and flicked my gaze to the skin stapler. “Good choice,” I whispered.

  “Is it gonna freak him out?” Bowser asked.

  “I think he’ll be all right.”

  Bowser grinned. “I like him.”

  I smiled back. Me too. I think.

  Drix returned with the thick steel cock ring. Stood where we could see each other.

  Bowser gestured with the stapler. “Go ahead and put it on him.”

  Panic flickered across Drix’s face. “Uh, I’ve never . . .”

  “It unscrews where the ball is,” I said. “Turn the ball counterclockwise.”

  Drix unscrewed the ring.

  “Now pull it open a little wider and put it around the base of my cock.”

  I tried very hard to hold still as Drix obeyed. His fingers kept brushing my dick, making me tense up.

  “Rotate it so the ball is at the bottom.”

  He did.

  “Now you screw it tight.” I stared at the ceiling, closing my eyes each time his fingers grazed me. “There’s a tension knob right by the ball. Turn it counterclockwise to keep tightening it.”

  Drix hesitated, then turned the knob.

  “More,” I said softly.

  He kept going. I could hear his breathing get shallower. The ball was digging in hard to the underside of my cock.

  “A little more,” I whispered.

  He gave the knob one more turn. My voice stuck in my throat for a moment.

  “Good,” I finally managed.

  “This is gonna make him real sensitive,” Bowser said, flicking my cock just above the ring. I jolted. “But it’ll keep him from coming while we play with him.”

  I lay there, my head held back by the nose hooks, the padded restraint taut around my neck. I was trying to decide what to tell them to do next, when Drix’s fingers skimmed my stomach. I shivered.

  “I like playing with him,” Drix whispered. This time his fingertips dragged along the crease between my thigh and groin. Then my inner thigh. My breath shuddered out of me, and my legs tensed.

  He put the pad of one finger on the slit of my cock. I tried reflexively to press my legs together. But the stirrups held me wide open.

  “With Miles, you can start pretty hard,” Bowser said. “Some pain pigs, you gotta build, layer the pain. But Miles, you don’t have to.”

  “Thanks.” I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you start with ballbusting? That’s something Drix can pick up pretty quickly.”

  Bowser gave Drix a brief explanation of where to hit. Then he hauled off and slapped my balls. Hard.

  My hips jerked, but I didn’t cry out. The pain was enormous, spreading quickly into my gut and pooling there.

  “Or you can punch,” Bowser suggested. “But you can’t punch and kick as hard as you slap. Common sense.”

  His fist connected with my balls, and this time I did shout. It wasn’t a brutal punch—he’d pulled it at the last second, but it still hurt like hell. I slowly forced myself to relax back onto the table. I was panting.

  “Jesus,” Drix said.

  “And you can mix that with what you were doing.” Bowser stroked my shaft lightly with two fingers. “Keep him turned on. Keep him wonderin’.”

  I moaned as Drix took over touching me. He wrapped his fingers tentatively around my throbbing balls. “Pull,” I suggested between gasps. “And twist.”

  He wrenched them. My face contorted, and for several seconds I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to come so bad. It was so hot, having Drix here, feeling his uncertainty and his power.

  Bowser slapped my abdomen. My hiss changed to a whimper as Drix trailed a finger lightly over the skin behind my balls.

  “Good,” Bowser said. “Now you slap his balls—don’t be afraid. You’re just using the flat of your hand, so you can hit hard.”

  “I don’t—” Drix laughed shakily. “This is gonna sound weird, but I don’t want to hurt him. Like, really hurt him.”

  I almost laughed too. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t like. But I promise, I’m fine.”

  Bowser stepped closer to Drix. “If you want, I’ll slap first. You watch my arm position. Watch how hard I hit. Then you try.”

  I swallowed and waited.

  Bowser’s slap was sharp and sent bile into my throat. I waited for the queasiness to pass, and when it didn’t right away, I forced myself to calm down enough to say, “I need a minute before the next one.”

  Bowser turned to Drix. “You know how when you get hit in the nuts, it’s like you feel sick and you can’t move? Because moving or having anything even touch you seems like it would kill you?”

  “Yeah,” Drix said.

  “Okay, so if Miles says he needs a minute, it’s best to just back off and let him get the pain under control. I know the impulse might be to touch him, reassure him. But just give him some space, and then when his breathing gets a little more normal, you can touch him.”

  I steadied my breathing with effort.

  Bowser nodded. “There now. See?” He stroked my shoulder. “Miles is doin’ a real good job taking this. And he knows his body real good. Knows when he needs a break.”

  Miles knows his body. Knows how to process pain. Knows the entire BDSM dictionary, from A-frame to zip strip.

  And is terrified of anything he doesn’t know.

  I glanced up at Drix. I swallowed, my Adam’s apple pushing against the neck restraint.

  Drix’s warm palm touched my thigh. He rubbed gently. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I tried to tilt my head to see him better, but the nose hooks dug in. “I love it. Are you okay?”

  He laughed that awkward laugh again. “I thought I was a sadist. But I am clearly not the badass I thought I was.”

  I grinned. He hadn’t seen anything yet. “I promise, I love this. But if you don’t, we’ll stop.”

  “No, no, no. I just want to make sure you really love it. But I guess that’s stupid, since you know what you’re doing.”

  “It ain’t stupid,” Bowser said. “This is a lot to take in.”

  Drix shifted. “I think maybe I’d do better with the—the knife play and stuff? Anything with blood and blades. The punching and slapping just seems so—against everything I’ve been taught.”

  I snickered. “And cutting isn’t?”

  He laughed too. “Shut up! Fine. I’m a weirdo.”

  Bowser’s laugh drowned out both of ours. “Well, we can move on to something a little bloodier.” He picked up the skin stapler.

  “Do I want to know?” Drix asked.

  “Skin stapler,” I told him.

  “Is that exactly what it sounds like?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oooh.”

  “See, now you sound excited.”

  Drix came around to stand by my head. “I am. I’ll bet you can make all kinds of pretty patterns with that.”

  Bowser’s voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke again. “Miles likes impact play. But he also likes predicament-type stuff.” He placed the stapler on my stomach. “It actually doesn’t hurt bad to put
the staples in. But you can do all kinds of painful things once the person’s stapled.”

  “Will you try it on me?” Drix asked. “Like on my arm or something. So I can see?”

  “Sure.”

  Drix held out his arm. Bowser put the stapler to his skin and squeezed the lever. Drix winced as the staple lodged in the surface of his skin. “Okay, ow. But not as bad as I thought.”

  Bowser picked up the staple remover and plucked the staple out.

  Drix yelped. “Okay, that hurt worse.”

  Bowser chuckled and set the remover aside. He got out the alcohol pads and disinfected the stapler.

  He started with a couple of staples in my belly. They didn’t hurt, and Bowser cleaned each tiny wound as it formed.

  Then he let Drix try doing one. Drix placed the stapler tentatively against my stomach.

  “It’s okay,” I told him.

  “Just squeeze the lever,” Bowser said.

  Drix’s face screwed up in an almost comical look of concentration. He squeezed the lever. I looked up at him. “See? I’m still alive.”

  He reached out and touched the staple. Pressed on it gently. My breath caught, and I held his gaze. He smiled and bit his lip, raising his eyebrows.

  Bowser took the stapler again and moved to my inner thighs. Four staples in each. I was sensitive there, and the staples stung, but I remained still.

  Bowser gripped my cock. I could barely tolerate the pressure of his hand—my cock was so swollen, and I had no hope of release. He put the stapler to the ridge under the head.

  “Oh God,” Drix said. “You’re not—”

  Click. A sharp, startling bite as the first staple went in, half under the ridge and half buried in the head.

  Click. Click.

  Bowser made a circle around the ridge. I jerked and sucked in air. He wiped up the blood droplets with an alcohol pad, and the alcohol stung my slit so badly my legs spasmed. Then he put the stapler right over my slit. I flinched.

  Click. The pain seared from my dick into my gut. I let out a long groan and squeezed my eyes shut. The pressure in my cock was worse than the pain of the staple. I needed to come. But my dick was stapled shut.

  I opened my eyes. “Drix,” I whispered. “Please. Please?”

  What was I begging for?

  “What?” he whispered. He was looking down at me, his face flushed, his breathing slightly rough. “What do you need?”

  I closed my eyes. “What you did before.” I opened my eyes again. Watched it dawn on him.

  He ran his finger up my shaft, stopping just before the ring of staples. Then he kept going, touching the staples, pressing them deeper into my skin.

  I moaned, my throat tightening, my shoulders shaking. “Harder.”

  He pressed harder, until my eyes watered with the pain. He stopped abruptly.

  “Very nice.” Bowser sounded appreciative.

  Drix helped Bowser tie thread around each set of staples on my inner thighs.

  “Pull his dick down,” Bowser said.

  Drix obeyed. I yelped as he tugged my cock downward. Bowser looped both threads through the staple in the slit and tied it. This time, the pain didn’t stop. The thread kept constant tension on the staples, and the ache filled my body. My dick curved like a vaulting pole. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes.

  “Take the ring off,” Bowser said softly to Drix.

  Drix turned the tension knob. It was a bizarre sensation: the pressure from the ring lessened as a new pressure built in my balls. Drix unscrewed the metal bead and pulled the ring off my shaft.

  I lost control immediately, cum leaking out from around the staple and dripping down my shaft. Drix kept his hand on my hip. It had been a long time since I’d had anyone watch so intently while I came. I felt completely helpless as the last spurts drained out of me. Drix took my softening cock and squeezed the base, milking a little more from me. He pushed his thumb down on the slit staple.

  I stared at him, gulping unsteadily, as he continued to press the staple deeper into me. Bowser, meanwhile, had grabbed the rawhide laces of the nose hooks. He gave them a couple of tugs, forcing my head all the way back, and I came again. A long, dry orgasm so powerful I had to yank my feet from the stirrups and press my legs together.

  When it was over, Bowser and Drix let me go, and none of us moved. I was still shocked, panting. Slowly, Bowser untied the nose hooks and slid them out. Drix unlocked the wrist cuffs and the neck restraint.

  I just lay there, dazed, soaring.

  Thank you. I wanted to say it. To both of them, but mostly to Drix.

  “Oookay,” I said when I could speak again. “Well. That’s one way to get me off.”

  Drix smiled, but he looked pale, even for him. He moved his hand slightly, like he wanted to touch me.

  Bowser nudged Drix. “And here’s where you’d normally start the aftercare. Which is whatever Miles needs to bring him down from the scene.”

  Drix gazed at me, and the corners of his mouth lifted again. “And what does Miles need to bring him down from a scene?”

  I opened my mouth to reply, nothing, but was stopped by something in his expression. A hint of awe and uncertainty, like he’d stumbled upon some secret, wild place and wasn’t sure if he should stay.

  Bowser took a handful of equipment over to the sink. “Miles ain’t big on aftercare.”

  I turned my head toward him. “I’m perfectly capable of bringing myself down from a scene.”

  Bowser spoke over his shoulder to Drix. “For some bottoms, it’s hugging, cuddling. Food, drink, watching a movie. I had one woman, she needed these Wal-Mart-brand chocolate cupcakes—one after every scene.”

  I addressed Drix again. “In play like this, the combined sensations of pain and pleasure cause the adrenal glands to release epinephrine, as well as endorphins and enkephalins. These are chemicals that produce a—”

  “Euphoria,” Drix interrupted softly. “A sense of ecstasy and detachment from reality.”

  I hesitated. “Yes.” I rarely played with anyone who had an extensive knowledge of the human body, or the physical effects of BDSM. “Anyway, there are some bottoms who experience a period of incoherence or lack of coordination after a scene. And they require monitoring and careful reintegration into the real world.”

  Drix’s gaze traveled my body. “The person’s temperature usually drops too.”

  All right, I suppose I was shivering a bit. Nothing that putting my clothes back on wouldn’t solve.

  “I’m guessing there’s also an emotional comedown?” Drix went on. “I’ve known people in the coven for whom touch therapy—or physical pain—dredged up all kinds of somatic memories.”

  Well, I certainly wasn’t experiencing somatic memories. Perhaps, when I was younger, I’d been surprised by the mess of inarticulate-able feelings I often experienced in the wake of a scene. But anymore, I was used to the physical and psychological effects of play, and could handle them with ease.

  Drix turned to Bowser, who was watching us. “Can I try?”

  Bowser leaned against the counter. “Try what?”

  “Aftercare. Just me and him.”

  What? Had I not just made it clear I didn’t need . . . And for him to ask Bowser, not me . . .

  Bowser lifted his eyebrows. There was a slight hesitation—a moment where I couldn’t read his face. Then he said, “Be my guest. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

  He left before I could protest.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to protest anyway.

  Once I was alone with Drix, I felt a thousand times more naked. I stopped shivering, the heat of embarrassment enough to warm me up. “I was being serious when I said I didn’t need anything.”

  He whacked my shoulder lightly. “It isn’t all about you. I need something.”

  This was . . . unanticipated. “What do you need?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. That scene was— It did a lot to me. For me. Psychologically.” He held up his
hand. “I’m still shaking a little.”

  He really was.

  I met his gaze again, anxious. “You didn’t like it?”

  His face held a quiet amusement that managed not to look at all like mockery. “I didn’t say that. I just need to process it.”

  Okay. Well. That was understandable. Topspace existed as well as subspace. Dom-drop as well as sub-drop. I’d just never had to deal with it.

  “All right.” I patted the table. “Come here. Talk to me.”

  He sat beside me. The steel creaked. Before I could think too much about it, I took his hand. And then I didn’t know what to do with it.

  He glanced down at our laced fingers and gave them a tiny smile.

  “How did it feel for you?” I asked awkwardly.

  “Overwhelming,” he replied at once.

  “Even for a sadist?”

  He snorted. “This is gonna sound crazy, but I’ve never really gotten sadistic with someone I was—was attracted to, I guess? Like, most of the blood play I’ve done has been with members of the coven. And I care about them. A lot. But, I mean . . .”

  Attracted to. I was fucking blushing. “I’d think it would be more rewarding to hurt someone you found attractive.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not just about being attracted to you.”

  There was a pinched, warping sensation in my stomach. “So what’s the issue?”

  He looked at me, patiently exasperated. “It’s not an issue. I’m just dealing with liking you as a person but also not having a long history with you and not totally understanding the things you want. And wishing— I don’t know, that I knew more of the nonhurting things you want.”

  This conversation was making me deeply uncomfortable. Liking me as a person? The nonhurting things I want? I studied the staples glinting in my skin.

  He shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t mean to make this weird.”

  “Come here.” I pulled him into a hug—fierce, unplanned, but it was what I hoped he needed. And as soon as he was in my arms, I felt better. Not exposed and nervous, but calm and like . . . like I had something to give him, something to teach him that went beyond how to use a skin stapler.